#(and I break your ankles hehe)

[glitterbombedshadow]

Imma be real, I love all of the Snufkins over the years, but there's something rly special about the mysterious guitar playing 70s version. His theme slaps so hard I learned it the same day I was made aware of it. He might just be the most goddamn dramatic forest gay version and I love that. I also think that he is the second most capable of murder snufkin (looking at you baldkin)

[hoseoksluna]

BOOKWORMS | knj

pairing: boyfriend!namjoon x reader

genre: smut; fluff

word count: 4.4k

summary: namjoon thinks of you when he reads a smut scene in his book.

warnings: boyfriend namjoon!!!, kimi namijoon reading, mentions of sex (riding), oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, the importance of consent, teasing, raw sex, breeding kink <3, big dick namu!!, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, joonie's chain dangling in ur face, tummy bulge, creampie, bruising, hickeys, aftercare:(

note: it took blood, sweat and tears (hehe) to write this and i'm so happy it's finally here!! i loved writing about namjoon. he's my whole soul and the entirety of my heart and i have to write abt him again soon. please take your time reading this and enjoy urself! let me know what you think in the comments mwah (or tell me anonymously in my inbox) and as i always say please like and if u want to - reblog, but i won't pressure u baby. love love you!!

side note: if you want to jump straight to the smut, it's right under the asterisks &lt;;3

You revel, you truly do, in seeing your boyfriend in such a serene state of mind. 

Nose buried in a book, Namjoon pays no mind to the surroundings fleeting by him with each flutter of his eyelashes. It goes unnoticed by him, strangely so, how you tidy up the apartment you share. How you feed the two cats that chose you and him to be their human parents. How you fondle their soft ears. How you bend over the furniture to whisper ‘pspsps’ at them when they need a moment away from you just to see their round eyes look up at you stupidly. Namjoon usually observes these moments; this utmost natural behavior of yours. He draws strength from the homeliness of it all with each and every swell of his lungs. Needs it to survive. That is until he gets a hold of that one papery portal and sits comfortably on the couch, one ankle propped over the knee. Then, he ceases to exist in this world. 

You’re happy for him. Over time, you’ve come to find that you have a certain fondness for the way he remains stoic. Because you always know what kind of book he’s reading, a smile blossoms on its own over the line of your lips whenever your eye catches the sculpture-like look on his face. It’s like even if he let himself hold his breath, his consciousness would waver back to the earth and the wretched awareness that he’s here, among mortals and the unfair capitalist system aftermath, would stream in his bloodstream, poisoning his experience. It takes the leisure out of it and makes the bed for misery instead. He doesn’t like it. Hates it, in fact. It’s a necessity that he focuses, as he embarks on the journey, because he does it for you.

Namjoon confides in his feelings and his literature with you almost on a daily basis. On the same couch, with the same cats snoring faintly, their small bodies spilling over the perimeter of your tangled legs. Doesn’t matter if it’s his thigh or the curve of your hip. The animals always find a warm crook to doze in, eavesdropping in, with their curious little ears, on the conversations you’re having. Though you reckon they like the meat of his thigh the best. You do, too. Can’t really blame them. The same serenity that intimately knows the person of Namjoon perceives the person of you when he prompts you to rest your head on his lap while he brushes his book-kissed fingers through the silky waterfall of your hair. Thoroughly explains the intricacies of the plot he’s invested in to you. Describes the characters as if they’re real people he’s become acquainted with. They are real to you as you listen. As you ask additional questions and gaze up at his eyes just to catch that one body of a shooting star fiery hot in the glossiness of his eyes. As you wonder, openly, what will happen to them.

“I’ll tell you when they tell me.” He sunk the promise onto the smooth skin of your forehead with the pucker of his lips.

It’s how you discovered, in all seriousness, that the plaster of his stoicism breaks during these literary moments.

Various colors of emotion tug and twist his features, the bare kind. The unrestrained kind. You know it’s a relief for him when the dam bursts open, soaking you in the beauty of humanness one only finds in literature these days. You can’t help but fall in love with him all over again when his eyebrows furrow. When his orbs nearly burn a hole in the ceiling when he’s trying to think of the right word that will ultimately help him convey the unfolding of the storyline. When he gives up and weaves English into his sentences, relying on his hands to say what his overstimulated brain fails to do. 

He reads to pass knowledge to you. The serenity whispered it into the chambers of your heart, a puff of hot breath in winter’s cold. It soothingly rubbed his shoulders when Namjoon told you there used to be a time when he couldn’t stand the sight of his books lining up the walls of his apartment. Wanted to burn it down and watch as the evidence of his melancholy dies in front of him. Because that’s what most of his book collection consisted of back then. The innermost shadowy faces of his pain. Loneliness. Sadness. Despair from life, from it not being enough for him, from it not saving a spot there for him–not once throughout the course of his life. That’s why he reads different kinds of books now. Ones that do not reflect his survival before you.

The reader has to get wiser, ruffled by life in order to gain more, gain what they need from those once deeply loved pages. It’s what the serenity believes. It’s what you believe and hope for Namjoon. That one day, somehow by the healing of the love you give him, he will look back and pick a souvenir from that moonless country of pain. Put it up somewhere between the spines of his new cluttered collection. Look at it from time to time and sense that it’s telling him something. Something that will fill the stitched-up cracks in his heart with sunlight. Something that he will pass over to you. It’s your love language after all. Namjoon reads because you read. It’s his own personal healing thing. 

You two are just a pair of two bookworms. Unfit for the world outside. Fit for the land you two created. Whose soil you take care of together.

***

Dinner is almost ready by the time you feel his fingertips gripping your hips. You hum, acknowledging his presence. Glad for the homely heat that radiates off of his body and seeps into your bones as you stir the risotto you decided to make on the stove. Coldness had been embracing you all day while he read so you’re overjoyed that he ripped it away from you.

Namjoon places a kiss on your temple and you sigh in relief. You might be too dependent on him, but so is he. He wouldn’t be nuzzling his face in your hair, squeezing your waist, peppering kisses on your tender skin if he wasn’t. It’s the perfect balance. And it’s not that you’re not able to be away from each other. The principle of looking forward to one another is what makes it so sweet, so endurable for the pair of you. Of the coming back and coming into contact at the end of the day. It’s natural. Simple. Human.

“Missed me?” Namjoon husks into your ear. 

You smirk and turn off the stove, turning around to face him. “Terribly.”

His body is clad in a black T-shirt that fits his broad figure well and a pair of baggy sweats of the same color, having discarded the warm crewneck he was wearing earlier somewhere in the universe of his book. A long silver chain twinkles in the middle of his chest in the yellow light. You caress it with your fingers and leave your palm there, on the hardness of his pecs. 

“I finished the book,” he says and you blink up at him. You’re not surprised at all. “Couldn’t put it down.”

Sleepy wrinkles have left their mark on his face from the cozy position he laid in for too long on the couch. His short sunlit hair, grown healthily from his military service, is tousled in all directions and you smooth it down for him. How did God bless you with such a beautiful man is something you’ll wonder about for the rest of your life. 

“What happened to Theo in the end?” you ask, genuinely curious about whether one of the characters you’ve grown attached to is okay after all the shit the author put him through. 

Namjoon was reading a coming-of-age book about a boy named Theo. A panorama of his childhood and adolescent life, you’ve heard all about it. Namjoon cared a lot about this story, cared a lot about the protagonist’s emotions and reactions to the reappearing storms. What made him stick with it, despite the nearly triggering themes, is the fact that Theo never let go of his optimism no matter what. It was incredibly inspiring for Namjoon. Something new. Something that he never thought could be possible. You’re proud of him for daring to read a book so reminiscent of his past.

“You’re not gonna believe it,” Namjoon says, a blush creeping along his cheeks.

You raise one of your eyebrows in question. 

“Theo got laid,” Namjoon reveals, laughing softly. “I’m so happy for him.”

You gasp and burst into giggles. “What?”

“He got some!” 

Your laughter rises in volume. “He lost his virginity and that’s the end?”

“It was a big moment for him. A triumph of some kind. Like he shed his old skin and left that broken life behind. It was amazing.” Namjoon’s eyes glint with tiny shooting stars and you melt. He always finds poetic meanings in the varieties of the character arcs. You think you just fell in love with him all over again. 

“That’s really beautiful,” you admit. It reminds you of something. Of something quite personal. “My first time with you changed my life as well.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows curl in tenderness. Dragon eyes widen and round in fervent emotion. He squeezes his arms around you, enfolding you in a hug. Kisses you warmly. Strokes your hair down your back. Your own eyes pool with little tears with the intimate knowledge that you chose the right person to unfold your raw femininity with. No one, no man other than him could have created such a safe for that to happen.

“Tell you what,” Namjoon says a bit hoarsely. “I saw us in it.”

You hum, encouraging him to continue. Crave for more of his thoughts and confidential findings. Its fire spreading through your body, as each word of his registers in your brain, always makes you feel phenomenally alive. You’re not timid to avow that it’s your addiction. Shame doesn’t know you.

“Elena was on top and he was watching her. In awe of her,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek with the tip of his thumb. “Made me think of our last time. A life changing experience of mine as well.”

You welcome the fire and suspire with sudden desire, eyes lidding. Your heart begins to thump. Namjoon studies your reaction. 

“You remember well, don’t you?” He nudges his nose against yours. “I was in awe of you just the same.” 

It’s impossible not to remember. The memory consumes your mind every waking hour. Gets you needy in ways you haven’t felt before. Namjoon had you sat on his lap among the fluffiness of your innumerable pillows and plushies. Had you do all the work as he focused on the sleekness of your freshly moisturized calves, its coconut aroma interfused with the scent of sex and the euphony of your bounces, ragged breaths and broken moans making his head all fucked up. He was loud himself, more loud than you ever recalled him being. Reading your body at the mercy of the pleasure his hard length was giving you with his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. Not once did he take his eyes off of you, not once did he help you. Just gripped your calves. Your thighs. Your tits all in his face. Only when you came hard, out of your own delightful merit, did his eyes roll back. You left his hips glazed with the evidence of your well-deserved orgasm, a porcelain statue made glossy.

A little later, during your pillow talk, he told you he’d found the idea of you using him while getting yourself off extremely hot. Made him more hard than he’d been in a while. Begged you to be even more selfish next time, adding an indistinct, ‘well, of course, if you want’ to the end of his sentence because he’s Namjoon.

“I do,” you breathe. “Touched myself to it this morning while you were still asleep.”

Namjoon groans. “God.” He kisses the side of your neck. Gets close to your ear. “You wanna do it again, hm? Wanna fuck me?” 

You might burst. His closeness, his heat, his need to ask for your consent turns you unstable. You’re choked up on your words, mind too fuzzy to say something. Turned on. Fucked up.

“You wanna show me how you touched yourself?” Namjoon continues, but you shake your head against the side of his face. 

You had touched yourself in the shower. Couldn’t say no to the impulse. Sharing that part of you for his eyes to see isn’t something you’re quite ready for. To you, it’s still something that’s yours. Something private. A courage you have yet to pluck up. You’re afraid to give him this last part of your femininity.

“Not today,” you whisper, planting a kiss on his neck. Feel him shiver. “I’m sorry. Do you mind?”

Withdrawing from your neck, Namjoon looks you dead in the eye, brows twisted in stern seriousness. “Don’t ever apologize for something like that again. Hear me when I say that.”

You squeeze his shoulder, the corners of your mouth lowering in a pout. Thankfulness grips your heart and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. 

“You know this is why we do this right?” he asks you. “Why I ask you these questions? I need to always know what you’re comfortable with so I don’t make a mistake.”

You nod. “Yes, Namjoon, I know and I’m so thankful.”

“Good. I’ll never push you to do anything you don’t want. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t.” 

“That’s my girl. 

You grab him by the back of his neck and engulf him in a hug. Luckiest girl in the world? That you are. The fact that you’re his is still something you can’t wrap your head around.

“We can stop. We don’t even have to do anything tonight—”

“No, Namjoon.” You withdraw. “Look.” Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you slip his hand beneath the confines of your panties. 

His breath shakes when he reaches your soaked folds. He traces your hole with his middle finger and your hips follow his movement, the pleasure so faint but so good that you flutter your eyes closed.

“Fuck, baby.” 

“Yeah, I need you. Need more,” you breathe out. “Can’t leave me like this, can you?”

Namjoon hums. “No, I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of this pussy.” 

He kisses you. Massages his tongue against yours. You buck your hips into his hand and Namjoon hears your body language. Takes his fingers up and rubs your swollen clit from side to side, quickening his pace as he swallows your moans down his throat. Gets angry at your tight leggings hindering him in giving you more, so he gets on his knees and swiftly pulls them down along with your underwear. 

“Sit on the counter.”

You comply right away. Namjoon takes your feet in his hands and gently removes your slippers, removing your garments fully so they don’t pool around your ankles. He needs your legs spread and he needs them spread wide for what he’s about to do to you. 

Torso long enough to reach you, he remains on his knees. Runs his hands up the back of your thighs to guide you into the position he wants you in. “Lock your arms around the back of your knees. Don’t let go.”

You do as he says, biting your lips in nervousness. Intertwine your hands together. Prepare yourself to die. 

Namjoon studies your dewy pussy, index and middle finger mimicking the letter V as he slides them up and down your folds, squeezing just right to hear you mewling. Your knees being so close together makes her look a lot more pillowy and you hear Namjoon breathe hard, absolutely hypnotized by the beauty of your flesh. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping down my hand.” He withdraws his fingers to show you how your slick trickles down the lines on his palm, changing the course of his life once and for all. 

Your clit throbs, breath matching his. “Please, Namjoon.”

He curses inaudibly. Brings his fingers back down to your folds, squeezes your lips and your clit together. Hisses at the sweet whimpery sounds spilling out of your mouth. Presses tighter so you whine needily for him. Takes you into his mouth when he accomplished what he wanted, tonguing your clit in slow agonizing circles that has you buckling your hips again. Puts his hands on your thighs to keep you down, flicking fast to absolutely abuse the fuck of you. Dragon eyes zeroing on yours, he gives you the hypnosis that your pussy did to him as he sucks on your bundle of nerves. You can’t even scream. Can’t breathe. The pleasure overwhelms you wholly and straps you down. There’s nothing you can do but take it. 

You come hard on his tongue. Namjoon laps it all up gladly. And when he’s finished, he stands up and slips those two digits that ruined you into your hole. Doesn’t move them. Lets you adjust instead.

“One more,” he mutters. “Please.”

You nod.

“Use your words or we’re stopping.”

You groan and close your eyes, your thighs visibly shaking in your iron grip from your orgasm. “Yes, Namjoon, one more. I’ll come for you.”

Namjoon places a wet kiss on your thigh to praise you, and to thank you as well. Begins to move his fingers promptly, but can’t seem to get enough of your skin. Proceeds to make it shiny with his liquid love, sucking it to bruise you. To remember this moment a little more fondly in the morning. 

Creating a trail up to the back of your knee, his digits pick up the speed. The pool of slick you left in his palm sloshes with each rapid thrust of his hand. He looks back at you and sees you lost in the pleasure, eyes lidded and unfocused. “Look at me.” 

You do, weakly.

“Just a little bit more and I’ll fuck you, all right?”

You’re about to nod, but decide against it. “Mhm, yes, Namjoon, fuck.” 

He smiles down at you. Your relief inches closer. “I’m so proud of you for speaking up today. For letting me know.” 

You could cry right now. Because of his fingers making you feel so good. Because of his kindness making you feel so safe. It all closes in on you and you whimper. 

Abruptly, Namjoon unravels your grip on your knees and kisses you, tongue slipping in. You come all over his hand, without meaning to, and he doesn’t stop. On the contrary, Namjoon fucks you harder. Takes all four of his fingers and strums your clit, prolonging your orgasm, swallowing down all of your moans. 

“Come on.”

Namjoon helps you down. If it weren’t for his arms holding you steady, you would’ve collapsed on the floor. Your legs shake, muscles taut and tense. 

“I got you.”

Sat on the floor with his joggers and boxers pulled beneath his crotch, he pulls you down on his lap. A wisp of precum adorns his tip and you wrap your hand around it, collecting it with your thumb. Watch him as you swirl your tongue around the digit before sucking on it, letting go with an obscene pop. Namjoon licks his lips, hands clasping your hips hard enough to bruise you. Twitches in your other hand.

“Don’t fucking do that to me, baby.” 

You laugh almost inaudibly, drunk on him. “Are you gonna come in me?” 

He replaces your hand, holding his length at the base for you to sink down. And you do, gasping softly at his thickness. Your dewiness helps it to be a smooth ride.

“Gonna pump you full. Leave you dripping,” he promises, voice restrained. “Gonna fuck you so good you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.” 

One thing about Namjoon, he’s a man of his word. 

Seated perfectly on him, he waits for you to adjust. Alleviates the tremble of your thighs with his palms, massaging the muscles. Takes off your shirt and flings it across the kitchen. Gropes your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You start to grind on him, throwing your head back. He latches onto your nipple and flicks the nub with his tongue. You lose your mind, leaking down his balls. 

“Ready?” he asks against the fullness of your breast. 

“Yeah, fuck me, Joon.” 

He thrusts into you once to watch you fall apart. Locks your arms behind your back. Grabs your forearms for his use.

“You forgot something.”

He thrusts again, harder this time.

“What?” you breathe out, meekly. 

“What word do you use when you want to ask for something?”

He watches you as you work it out in your brain. Fucks into you three more times, equally hard, to disrupt you. 

“Fuck, sorry. Please, Joon, please.”

He grinds, hips rotating in circles. 

“Uh-huh, that’s right. Now use it.” 

Namjoon envelops your tit in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your areola. Sucking. Keeping up the agonizing pace. Groaning when you clench down on him. 

“Please, hmph, fuck me.”

Your breast bounces back when he lets go, biting his lip. “Knew you could do it,” he coos. “Smart fucking girl.” 

He begins to fuck you properly. Thrusting up and down as he holds you steady, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As he takes control of your squirming, leaving his fingerprints on your forearms and waist. You’re breathless, whimpering, on the verge of sobbing. So turned on and needy for him that the emotions brim in you, threatening to spill over. 

“Aren’t you?” Namjoon continues. “Aren’t you a smart girl?” 

You nod, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. “I’m a smart girl.” 

He spanks your ass to reward you and you arch your back. Tits all in his face. He’s mesmerized watching them bounce and nearly slap against each other, nubs hard and pointed. He licks them up, flicking them with his tongue. You round your shoulders a little in pleasure, his strong grip not letting you fold like your body wants. 

“That’s right. So smart and good for me. So fucking wet. Making me lose my mind.”

Namjoon kisses you. Inhales you. Withdraws only for a mere second before he’s back, tongue in, toying with you the way you like it. You feel your relief calling your name.

“Namjoon, I’m so fucking close. I’m so close. I’m gonna come,” you whine, forehead pressed against his, face twisted in ecstasy.

Namjoon stops out of the blue and slips out of you. You whine loudly, but before you know it, he carries you to the couch and lays you down on it. Takes off all of his clothes until only his silver chain remains, shining bright in the dim light. He spreads your legs, one limb over the backrest, the other around his thigh. Grips his length and tugs at it a few times, the feeling of your wetness making him slippery pulling moan after moan out of him. 

He enters you again and resumes his fast pace, holding your calf in his hand. “Smart girls come on the couch, not on the floor like whores. You got that?” 

You nod almost too eagerly, fucked out beyond measure. “Yes, Joon, please make me come. Please, come here.” 

Namjoon leans towards you, propping his elbows by your head, cradling you. “I’m here. I’m gonna make you come.” 

From this angle, he fucks you more deeply than before, his tip reaching your cervix. You roll your eyes back, but bring them right back to his face when his chain taps you on the chin. You find it so hot that you grind your hips against his, meeting his thrusts, encouraging him to fuck you harder. The chain meets you in erratic staccatos and you scratch your nails down his bare back, the sword-like pendant hurting you in a way that you like. 

Namjoon notices. Slows down his movements. Pinches the chain from the back of his neck. Prompts you to lift your head and slides it over, letting it rest in the middle of your breasts. Then fucks you back into the couch.  

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “Gonna breed you. Hm. You want that, don’t you?”

The cord tightens in your lower belly. The bulge of where his tip is hitting you nudges him in his stomach and he looks down. Curses. 

“Look.” 

You follow his eyes and moan. “Namjoon, Namjoon, please come in me. I’m so close. Wanna feel you. Please.” 

He grunts, nodding his head. Licks his fingertips and presses them against your clit. Pleasures you in fast and swift jerks until you’re knocking your head back. Only when he grabs your jaw and kisses you does the cord snap, his lips being your ultimate undoing. 

Namjoon presses you down with his body, keeps you calm and collected. Kisses you all through it, your jaw, your neck, your cheeks. Then his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock twitches in you. He gives you one final hard thrusts and fills you up, groaning against your mouth.

You’re smoothing down the sting of your scratches on his back when he pulls out of you and his cum drips out of you. You wish you could see what he sees, hand on his mouth, careful to catch his drool. You push out more for him and he curses, fondling your pussy with his thumb before he pumps it back in. 

He comes back to you and kisses you. Fixes your hair. Caresses your cheek. Helps you stand on your feet as he leads you into the shower. Washes every inch of your body, heedful of the bruises he left on the back of your thigh. Lathers your hair in your favorite shampoo. Wraps you in a towel. Wanted to moisturize your body, but you told him off, knowing both of you would get horny again. You let him brush your hair, though, placing a comb in his hand. He’s gentle as he undoes the knots, then he blowdries your hair. 

And you do the same for him.

Once the pillow touches your cheeks, you’re both out like a light. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[soulofapatrick]

Wingspan - Azriel x female reader

Summary: You decide Azriel's lap is where you'll sit which leads to something new

Warnings: Semi-smut; male orgasm

Words: 5K

Notes: I feel like im teasing you all with no real smut these last few ACOTAR stories hehe - you will get your smutty pt 2s I promise

Y/N's POV

As I step into the lounging area of the House of Wind, the warmth from the fire crackles softly in the background, but the room is full of quiet laughter and relaxed conversation. Every seat is taken.

Cassian is sprawled out on the couch nearest the hearth, his muscular frame looking far too large for the space, his arm slung lazily around Nesta. She’s sitting beside him, legs tucked beneath her, engrossed in a book but absently resting her hand on his thigh. Across from them, Feyre sits next to Rhysand, her head resting against his shoulder as they talk quietly, her soft laugh occasionally filling the room. Rhys lounges with that familiar ease, and the moment I step inside, his eyes meet mine. A brow quirks, and I know instantly that he’s about to summon another chair for me.

I shake my head, just the smallest movement, and his smirk widens knowingly.

Elain is seated next to Mor, both chatting lightly, and Amren is perched in an armchair with a drink in hand, glancing up from a book now and then, clearly uninterested in the chatter around her.

But my eyes find him. Azriel is sitting alone in a solitary armchair, slightly apart from the others, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other. His shadows swirl faintly around his shoulders, and he holds a barely touched drink in his hand, eyes distant as if lost in thought.

Without a word, I make a beeline for him, my heart picking up speed as I approach. His hazel eyes lift when he senses me coming, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. His expression softens almost immediately, though, his gaze innocent, confused, as if he can’t quite believe I’m heading straight for him.

I don’t stop. I reach out, nudging his arm gently, and he instinctively shifts the glass from his lap, his breath catching in his throat as I slide smoothly onto it, settling into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

For a moment, he’s utterly still, his body tense beneath mine. The faintest hint of a blush creeps across his cheeks, and I can feel the way his breath hitches slightly, like he’s trying to keep his composure. His free hand hovers awkwardly for a second, unsure where to rest, before it finally settles on my waist with a cautious, almost reverent touch.

Azriel says nothing, but his lips part as if to speak. I glance up at him, catching the quiet storm of emotions swirling in those beautiful hazel eyes—surprise, uncertainty, but beneath it all, a soft warmth that he tries to hide behind his usual stoicism.

His shadows dance lightly around us, curling closer as if they, too, are reacting to the shift in our proximity. The room around us seems to fade, the others’ conversations becoming distant as we sit there, close, his breath steadying but his chest still rising a little too fast. He’s not used to this kind of attention—not from me.

I reach for the glass in his hand, gently prying it from his grasp. His fingers linger on the cool surface for a moment before he releases it, watching me closely. Without breaking eye contact, I raise the drink to my lips, taking a slow sip. The liquid is smooth, warming as it slides down my throat, but what really heats me is the way Azriel’s eyes darken, honing in on the way my tongue darts across my bottom lip to catch the last drop.

His gaze is searing, intense, as if he's committing the moment to memory, and for a heartbeat, it’s just the two of us in the room. Then, as if by some unseen force—probably Rhys or Amren—the glass vanishes from my hand. I barely have time to process its disappearance before Azriel moves.

It’s instinctual, primal—the way his scarred hands slide up my waist, firm and possessive, pulling me closer. Before I can react, his face buries in the crook of my neck, and I feel the warmth of his breath as he inhales deeply. He’s holding me like he needs to, like being close to me is the only thing keeping him grounded. I can feel the faint tremor in his arms, the way he tries to keep his composure even though he’s giving in to some deeper urge.

I relax against him, sinking into his embrace, my body shifting slightly in his lap as I try to get more comfortable. The movement causes his grip to tighten, and a low, guttural sound escapes him—a growl, quiet but unmistakable, rumbling from deep within his chest. The sound sends a shiver racing down my spine.

That’s when I feel it—him. Stirring beneath me, hardening as I shift, and it’s my turn for my breath to catch in my throat. The weight of him beneath me is undeniable now, and suddenly, every inch of space between us feels electric. I can’t breathe, can’t move, trapped in the tension that pulses between us, my heart hammering against my chest.

Azriel's breath hitches as I shift slightly in his lap again, the movement sending a jolt of awareness through both of us. His grip on my waist tightens, almost as if he’s afraid I might slip away. His face remains buried in the crook of my neck, and I can feel the warm brush of his lips against my skin, his breath coming in uneven, shallow pulls. His scent—night-chilled wind and cedar—wraps around me, intoxicating and overwhelming, and I can't help but lean into him, the tension between us crackling in the air.

For a moment, all I can hear is the sound of his breathing and the steady thrum of my own heartbeat, loud in my ears. His hands, calloused and scarred from years of battle, hold me like I’m something fragile, but there’s a rawness to the way his fingers press into my skin, as though he’s fighting the urge to pull me even closer.

I shift again, just slightly, and this time, a soft moan escapes his lips, barely audible but filled with a need that sends heat pooling low in my belly. My own breath catches in my throat, a shiver coursing through me as I feel the hard length of him press more insistently against me. My heart races, and I know that he feels it too—the pounding rhythm of it against his chest, the rising heat between us.

Azriel finally lifts his head, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re darker than I’ve ever seen them, his usual calm shattered by the hunger simmering just beneath the surface. His gaze flickers to my lips for a brief second, and I see the way his jaw clenches, like he’s holding back from doing something he desperately wants to do.

I feel his grip loosen slightly, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of my shirt in small, absent circles, but his eyes never leave mine. The tension between us hums in the air, almost unbearable now, as if the world around us has disappeared, leaving only this moment. My body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve on high alert from his touch, his closeness.

I open my mouth, trying to find something to say, but before I can, his scarred hand moves, sliding from my waist to the back of my neck. His fingers tangle in my hair, gentle but possessive, as he tilts my head just slightly, his face so close to mine that I can feel the heat of his breath ghosting over my lips.

"Are you... okay?" His voice is low, hoarse, like he’s barely able to get the words out, his control hanging by a thread. There’s a vulnerability in his question, as if he’s afraid of what my answer might be.

I nod, swallowing hard, my body trembling against him. "Yes," I whisper, my voice breathy and uneven, and his grip on my neck tightens, just slightly.

The corners of his lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. More like he’s relieved, as if that simple word unlocked something within him. His gaze drops to my lips again, and this time, there’s no mistaking the hunger in his eyes.

Before I can even process it, his mouth is on mine—slow at first, tentative, like he’s still unsure if he’s allowed to have this. But then I kiss him back, and something inside him snaps. His hand tightens in my hair, pulling me closer, and his other arm wraps fully around my waist, holding me against him as his lips move hungrily against mine.

His kiss is fierce, consuming, like he’s been starving for this moment and can’t get enough. I melt into him, my hands finding the front of his shirt, clutching at the fabric as if it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. Every brush of his lips, every stroke of his tongue sends sparks of heat racing through me, and I can’t think—can’t focus on anything except the feel of him, the way he tastes, the way his body responds to every movement I make.

When we finally break apart, both of us are breathless, our foreheads resting together. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his eyes still dark with need, but there’s a softness there now, too, something tender that makes my heart ache.

His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks. "I've wanted this... for so long." His confession hangs in the air between us, raw and unguarded, and I can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the fear that maybe I don’t feel the same.

But I do. Gods, I do.

I press my lips to his again, softer this time, letting him know without words that I want this too—that I want him. His body relaxes beneath me, the tension melting from his shoulders as he kisses me back, slower now, more controlled, savouring the moment as if we have all the time in the world.

And in this moment, in Azriel’s arms, it feels like we do.

Our breaths mingle, warm and shallow, as we slowly pull away from the kiss. The world seems to stand still around us, every sound muffled by the rush of blood in my ears, by the feel of his hands still gripping me, like I’m the only thing keeping him anchored. I finally glance around the room, blinking as if waking from a dream, and that’s when I realise we’re alone.

The others—Cassian, Nesta, Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Amren, and Elain—they’re gone. At some point, they must have quietly slipped away, leaving us here in the lounging area, tangled together on the chair like some kind of forgotten secret. My face flushes with sudden awareness, the intimacy of the moment crashing over me now that we’re truly, utterly alone.

Azriel must sense it—the sudden flush creeping up my neck, the way my body stiffens just slightly. His eyes narrow, a flicker of concern passing through them, but before I can even speak, the world around me shifts.

It happens so fast—one moment I’m sitting on his lap, surrounded by the warmth of the fire, and the next I’m engulfed in darkness. Not just darkness, though—his shadows. They wrap around me, soft, velvety, and thick, their weight comforting and familiar as they pull me under. I barely have time to register the sensation of falling before I land, gently, on something soft beneath me.

I blink up, my breath catching as I realise I’m on my back, lying on the plush surface of a bed. The shadows swirl around me before retreating, leaving nothing but the low glow of candlelight to illuminate the room. My heart pounds in my chest as I take in my surroundings—the large bed beneath me, the soft sheets crumpled around my legs, the faint scent of night-blooming flowers hanging in the air. And then, I see him.

Azriel is hovering above me, his body blocking out most of the dim light, his wings half unfurled like a dark halo around him. His hands are braced on either side of my head, caging me in, and his face is only inches from mine. The shadows still dance around his shoulders, swirling lazily, but his gaze… his gaze is locked on me, and it’s intense, burning with something that makes my breath catch all over again.

He’s staring at me like I’m something precious, something he can’t quite believe he’s allowed to have. His lips part as if to speak, but he hesitates, his eyes flicking over my face as if he’s memorising every detail. His presence is overwhelming—warm and solid and intoxicating, and I can’t help the way my body reacts to him, my skin buzzing with the nearness of him.

Azriel’s wings flutter slightly as he hovers above me, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, eyes locked onto mine with a fire that seems barely contained. The room around us is dim, the only light spilling in from the moon outside the windows, casting long, gentle shadows that seem to dance across his features. His wings frame him, dark and powerful, the membranous folds trembling with barely concealed tension.

I feel it too, the overwhelming tension that hangs between us—thick, electric, like a storm about to break. My pulse races, the heat between us coiling tight in my chest, and I can’t help but take in the sight of him. His muscles are taut beneath his shirt, his shoulders broad and wings extended just enough that I can see them twitching, the sensitivity of that velvety skin so evident even from where I lay beneath him.

His eyes are locked on me, dark and molten, and the connection between us, the bond we share, hums with the weight of his desire, of his need. I feel his emotions as if they’re my own—raw, unfiltered hunger. It’s like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing there’s no way back, and part of me is already tumbling over it.

The bond pulses with an intoxicating mixture of want and restraint. I sense his struggle to hold back, to keep himself in check, even though the thread of control is so thin it feels like it could snap at any moment. His shadows swirl restlessly around us, as if they, too, are caught up in this moment, drawn to the fire igniting between us.

“Azriel…” I whisper, my voice barely audible in the quiet of the room, but the sound seems to break whatever thread of control he was holding onto.

His gaze softens, and without a word, his head dips, his lips brushing against my throat, feather-light but sending sparks racing through my veins. His breath is warm against my skin as he inhales deeply, as if he’s savouring the moment, the feel of me beneath him.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His voice is a low, gravelly whisper against my neck, filled with equal parts wonder and restraint. His hands, those scarred, powerful hands, slip down to my waist again, pulling me closer to him as he presses his body flush against mine, his weight grounding me.

I shiver beneath him, the flush on my face deepening as I feel him everywhere—his solid chest pressed against mine, his hips brushing against my legs, his scent surrounding me, wrapping me in warmth and desire. My pulse races, and I know he can feel it, can hear it with those sharp senses of his.

I open my mouth to respond, but the words die in my throat as he lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine again, dark and full of that smouldering intensity that makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world. His thumb brushes against my hip, a simple touch, but it sends a wave of heat coursing through me.

Azriel's lips curl into the faintest of smiles, and then, as if unable to hold back any longer, he leans down, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s slower this time, more deliberate. It’s not rushed or desperate like before, but deep, exploring, savouring. His mouth moves against mine, teasing, tasting, and I can’t help but arch into him, the heat between us growing more intense with every passing second.

The soft sheets crumple beneath me as I reach up, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as I kiss him back with everything I have. He responds with a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips, and it sends another shiver down my spine.

His body shifts above me, his weight pressing me deeper into the mattress, and I feel the hardness of him, unmistakable now, as he presses against me. My breath hitches, and I can’t stop the way my hips move, instinctively arching up toward him, seeking more of that delicious contact.

Azriel breaks the kiss with a sharp intake of breath, his eyes hooded and dark as he pulls back just enough to look at me. His expression is raw, full of want and need, but there’s something else there, too—something vulnerable, as if he’s asking for permission.

"Tell me to stop if you want me to," he murmurs, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper, but I can hear the restraint, the effort it takes for him to hold back.

I meet his gaze, my heart pounding, and slowly, deliberately, I shake my head. “Don’t stop.”

That’s all it takes.

The moment the words leave my lips, Azriel’s entire demeanour shifts. The restraint he’s been holding onto starts to unravel, his gaze darkening to a molten amber that sends a shiver through me. His hands tighten on my waist as though he’s been waiting for this—waiting for permission to lose control.

And then, his mouth crashes back onto mine, but this time the kiss is deeper, hungrier, as if he’s been starved for this. His tongue teases mine, coaxing and tasting, and my body responds with an intensity that surprises even me. I can’t help but arch into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I pull him closer, needing more of him, more of his touch.

Azriel groans softly, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against me. His hand slides down to my thigh, his strong fingers digging into the soft skin as he hitches my leg over his hip. The movement presses our bodies together in a way that has me gasping, feeling every inch of him against me.

And gods, he feels good. So good it’s almost overwhelming.

He drags his lips from mine, trailing hot kisses down my jaw and to my neck. Each one is deliberate, like he’s savouring the taste of me, and I tilt my head, giving him more access. He doesn’t hesitate. His teeth graze the sensitive skin of my throat, and I gasp, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through my veins. His wings shift slightly behind him, a subtle twitch as if even they are responding to the growing tension.

I slide my hands down his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath the fabric, and then lower, fingers brushing the edge of his wings. His reaction is immediate. A low, guttural sound rumbles from his chest, and his wings flare, just slightly, the movement causing him to press more firmly against me.

I do it again, trailing my fingers along the sensitive membrane, and Azriel gasps this time, his breath hitching. His wings are trembling under my touch, the connection between us growing more electric.

"Careful," he murmurs, his voice hoarse, strained. "They’re... sensitive."

I smirk, teasing him again with the softest brush of my fingertips along the arch of his wing, watching as his reaction mirrors the way he would if I touched him elsewhere—his body tensing, his grip tightening on my waist, his breath catching in his throat.

“Sensitive?” I murmur back, voice low, playful. “Good to know.”

Before I can do it again, Azriel’s patience seems to snap. In one swift motion, he pulls back, grabbing the hem of my shirt and yanking it over my head, discarding it without a second thought. His eyes rake over me, dark and full of hunger, and he lets out another growl, the sound making my pulse race.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, barely loud enough to hear. But I do, and it sends a flush of heat through me. 

Without hesitation, his hands return to my body, but this time, he doesn’t stop. His mouth follows the path of his fingers, trailing hot kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, and lower still. His lips and hands explore every inch of me as if memorising me, worshiping me.

And all the while, his wings—those magnificent, powerful wings—shudder in time with his touch, as if they are just as desperate for contact, just as in need of attention.

My breath hitches as I lift a hand, letting my fingers gently trail over the scars that line his forearms, feeling the tension thrumming beneath his skin. His breath falters, and I can sense him tip just a little closer to losing himself, feel the wild, unconfined need rippling through the bond.

Without breaking eye contact, I let my hand drift higher, toward his wings.

His reaction is immediate. The moment my fingertips graze the soft, sensitive skin of his wing, a shudder runs through him. His wings flare slightly, trembling as though he’s fighting not to let them fully expand. I can feel his breath catch, the bond between us flaring with the intensity of his pleasure, the sensation so strong it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs.

I don’t stop, letting my fingers trail along the edge of his wing, marvelling at how the slightest touch sends shockwaves through his body. His wings twitch, and his control slips just a little further. His whole body is trembling now, the tension in him barely held together, and the bond surges with the primal, visceral pleasure he’s feeling.

"You’re playing with fire," he growls, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a glint of amusement, a challenge hidden behind the heat.

Before I can respond, he’s kissing me again, harder this time, more possessive. His hands slide lower, fingers digging into my hips as he presses his body more firmly against mine, and I can feel every inch of him, hard and ready, against me.

The intensity between us builds, a slow, burning heat that’s all-consuming, and I can’t help the soft moan that escapes me, my body arching into his touch. A soft groan escapes him, low and guttural, as his hands grip my waist, holding me as if I’m the only thing anchoring him to reality. But when I press a little harder, tracing the ridges of his wing, something in him snaps.

He buries his face in the crook of my neck with a desperate, almost feral groan, his breath hot and ragged against my skin. I feel the sharp bite of his teeth grazing my neck, almost too hard, but the pain mingles with pleasure so intense it sends a shiver down my spine. His hands tighten around me, pulling me impossibly closer as his wings tremble violently beneath my touch.

Before I realise it, Azriel’s entire body convulses with the force of it, a full-body shudder that ripples through him as he comes undone, his breath heavy and laboured, his wings quivering beneath my hands as the overwhelming pleasure tips him over the edge. His face remains buried in my neck, his lips pressed hard against my skin, and I can feel the pulse of his heartbeat racing, hear the low, guttural groan that escapes him as his body tenses and then releases in wave after wave of pleasure. His hips jerk into mine and I can feel the way embarrassment tinges the thread of our bond to I just kiss the side of his forehead as he rides out his orgasm. 

The bond between us flares white-hot, filled with the intensity of his release, and I can’t help but gasp, feeling every shudder, every tremor as if it’s my own. His wings continue to tremble beneath my touch, and I keep my fingers there, gently stroking the sensitive skin, letting him ride out the final waves of pleasure until his body slowly begins to relax.

Azriel’s breath is still hot against my neck, his body pressed so intimately against mine that I can feel every lingering tremor that still rocks through him. For a moment, neither of us moves, suspended in the quiet aftermath, with only the sound of his heavy breathing and the rapid beat of our hearts filling the room. But then, I feel it—the unmistakable tension of his body growing rigid again, the slow but deliberate shift of his hips against mine as the evidence of his renewed desire presses hard against my thigh.

Slowly, Azriel raises his head from where he’d buried it in my neck, his breathless groans now replaced with quiet, almost desperate pants. His hazel eyes lock onto mine, and they’re no longer merely molten—they’re molten chocolate, deep and swirling with so much raw need that it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs. His gaze is intense, but beneath the fire burning there, I see something else—something that makes my heart stutter in my chest.

He’s pleading.

“I need you,” he whispers, voice rough and low, his hands shaking as they grip my waist just a little tighter. His forehead rests against mine, eyes heavy-lidded but full of a barely contained hunger. His lips part as if he’s about to speak again, but it’s as though the words are too difficult to form. Instead, they tumble out, strained and needy, “Please…”

There’s no mistaking the fervent desire coursing through him. His body, his wings, even the bond between us pulses with it. He’s already hard, ready, and I can feel it—the urgency in every inch of him as his hips press forward, seeking any relief. But despite the wild hunger coursing through him, despite how his entire body shakes with need, he still waits. He still pauses. His fingers twitch slightly at my sides as if every fibre of his being is fighting for control, waiting for permission.

The gentleman in him, even in this frenzy, is waiting for me to say yes.

One word, a singular thought, chants in my head over and over again, echoing through the bond, through every breath I take as I look up at him. It’s a need that matches his, an all-consuming fire that burns hotter with every second that ticks by.

Mate.

I reach for his shirt without thinking, my hands trembling with the same need that’s consuming him. My fingers curl into the fabric, and I don’t even hesitate. I rip it in two with a force I didn’t know I had, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room as the shirt falls away from his body in tatters.

Azriel lets out a low, rough groan as the shirt is discarded, his wings flaring slightly, and his eyes darken even further—if that’s possible. His skin is flushed, the muscles of his chest and arms rippling under the soft moonlight, and I can’t help but run my hands across the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the way his breath stutters beneath my touch.

But we’re not done.

Azriel’s hands move down to his trousers, and with one smooth motion, he’s shucking them off, kicking them aside with an urgency that leaves my heart racing even faster. The sight of him, naked and unashamed, standing over me with every inch of him ready and willing, sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through me.

My own body burns, flushed with heat as I feel the bond between us pulsing with an overwhelming surge of need. He moves with precision, fingers deft but trembling as he does the same to me, discarding every layer between us until there’s nothing left, until I’m as bare to him as he is to me.

His eyes never leave mine, and there’s something almost reverent in the way he looks at me now, like he’s seeing me for the first time, or maybe like I’m the only thing that exists in this moment. His hands are gentle as they skim over my skin, but there’s a trembling edge to his touch, a tension that speaks of the frenzied desire threatening to overtake him.

And through the bond, I feel it too—the storm brewing inside both of us, the need to come together, to consummate what’s been simmering between us for so long.

Azriel’s wings twitch, his breathing erratic as he hovers above me, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. He lowers himself, his body pressing against mine, skin to skin, and I feel the weight of him, the heat of him. His breath ghosts over my lips, and his voice, husky and raw, whispers again, “Tell me… tell me what you want.”

I feel his body trembling, barely held together by the thread of control that’s slipping fast. His hands are on either side of me, but it’s his wings that twitch, sensitive and exposed, sending a shudder through him every time they brush against the sheets. His eyes plead with me, and I know that this moment is the tipping point. All I have to do is speak the word, give him the permission he’s so desperately seeking.

And the bond between us pulses, thundering in my chest, as that singular word echoes louder and louder in my mind.

Now.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

[incendiobrock]

Caring For You {Matt Sturniolo}

Summary: fem!reader takes care of bf!Matt when his ankle is still hurting after going to the doctor 🥺

Warnings: FLUFFFFF

A/N: this was supposed to be a quick blurb before work but it turned out longer than i expected hehe

The garage door in the triplets house finally opened, signaling that the boys had made it back home from their trip to urgent care. Matt had been having some ankle pain that you had been begging him to get checked out. Even Nick and Chris were getting worried when the pains still persisted after a couple of months.

The boys laughter filled the once silent house and you were quick to get off the couch and make your way to the staircase. Nick was the first one up, greeting you and heading to the kitchen. Chris followed him closely behind and Matt stayed at the bottom of the stairs for a few extra moments.

"Well? What did they say was wrong with it?" You asked nervously, hoping it wasn't too serious since you didn't see any sort of cast. Matt slowly ascended the stairs towards you, limping lightly because of the pain. When he reached the top he pulled you into a comforting hug, rubbing his hand up and down your back. He knew that you had been really worried about him and just wanted to make sure he was okay.

"She said it was probably tendinitis and that I should just take some advil." Matt said softly, placing a kiss on your forehead and pulling back from the hug. You looked up at him with big doe eyes, concern still written on your face, "What? That's all? They didn't do an x-ray or anything?" Matt shrugged his shoulders, shifting his weight off his hurt ankle and repositioning his hands inside his jean pockets.

"They didn't think it was necessary."

"How about you go sit on the couch so you're not putting weight on it, give it a break while you're home." You suggested, placing a caring hand on Matt's tattooed bicep. He quickly obliged, making his way over to the plush, white sofa, sinking into the pillows. You grabbed a pillow from the opposite end of the couch and brought it over to Matt.

"Baby, what are you doing sweetheart?" He asks as you carefully lift his leg to rest on the L of the couch, placing the pillow beneath his hurt ankle.

"You should probably elevate it at least." You responded before quickly heading towards the kitchen, giving Matt no time to stop you. Matt watched you from over the back of the couch, his tongue wetting his bottom lip unsure of your actions. You rummaged through all the kitchen drawers, desperately trying to find what you needed. Eventually, you scavenged a ziploc bag, a hand towel, and a bottle of advil.

You filled the ziploc bag with ice from the freezer, wrapping it in the hand towel to keep the direct cold from touching your bare skin. Holding all the ingredients, you made your way back over to the couch.

"Here babe, let me take care of you." You pled, carefully placing the ice onto his elevated ankle and handing him the bottle of advil, urging him to take a couple.

He smiled sweetly at you, grateful that he could count on you to take care of him even when he didn't think his health issues were that big of a deal.

"Do you need anything else?" You asked, standing at the edge of the couch, ready to do anything else for the man you loved.

Matt patted the spot next to him, urging you to take a seat. As you got closer to Matt, he held out his hand taking hold of your own and pulling you onto the sofa. When you fully sat down next to him his arm came over your shoulders, allowing you to nuzzle into his chest. He looked down at you as you snuggled into his side, using his free hand to gently push your chin up to look at him.

Matt leaned down, connecting his lips with yours in a meaningful kiss, "I love you, thanks for taking care of me."

[winchester-with-wings]

Training Room Tension (Wolverine x f!Reader, smut)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!reader

Summary: Training is just another form of foreplay between you and Logan. That's why no one trains with you guys anymore. It's just awkward.

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut with a hint of sappy love and security at the end, dirty talk, taunting, unprotected sex, biting, spanking, rough sex, Rest In Piece(s) to your undergarments hehe, takes place in the X-Mansion, reader is some type of invulnerable mutant like Logan.

Word count: 2400

Author's Note: First time writing in forever! Praise be to "Deadpool & Wolverine" for bringing back my love and lust for Hugh Jackman. Wolverine in particular is one of my first loves. Shout out to by Bitchachos for reassuring me this obsession was okay. Love you guys! Thanks for reading and thanks to @pagesofivy for the title suggestion! I'm picturing older, thicker Logan from the 70s cuz of that mirror scene iykyk. But also love these XMen gifs. Ah hell I can't pick a favorite. He has aged sooooo well.

Hope people enjoy this and please don't be afraid to let me know! Words of Affirmation is my love language. LOL

I made a wolverine sideblog too because I want to reblog everything Logan and D&W related hehe ----> @feral4wolverine

Mobile Masterlist

The team rarely trains with you and Logan in the same room anymore. For a good reason too. Sure, in short exercises, they can manage you guys. You're both part of the team after all, but the longer training scenarios, they'll make do without. They just know their feral, indestructible teammates will do their part in the real world fights.

Because as much as Logan admires your strength and determination...he also cannot stand it. You're stubborn. You're defiant. You're a tease and he can't take it anymore.

“You’re slowing down, babe, and pulling your punches,” you tease, dodging his swing and sweeping his legs out from under him. He hits the ground with a loud thud. He rolls over, grabbing your ankle before you can get back up. He drags you along the mats as he stands. “Ah, nonono!” you laugh, your arms waving and trying to get a grip on the floor. You get your other foot under you and turn yourself over trying to kick or hook your leg around his neck to take him down.

It doesn’t work this time but at least he lets go of your foot. Back on even ground, you’re swapping blows, punches, and blocks. You curse almost as much as he grunts.

"Run that pretty little mouth one more time," he growls, his arms interlocked with yours as he blocks your attack again.

"Or what, old man?" You push back, breaking his hold, your skin is slick with sweat and it gives you an advantage over Logan…in more ways than one. You’re slippery and fast and his reaction time is slower as his gaze lingers on every inch of exposed, glistening skin.

He pounces and were he not already so close, you would have been able to dodge him. Your feet don't have a chance to gain traction though as you scramble to get away. He swiftly grabs you by the waist, tossing you over his shoulder.

The action is fast enough that it steals your breath away. You're kicking and protesting as he carries you out of the gym. All the tech and weaponry in the Danger Room have borne the brunt of Logan's claws too many times, so the two of you have been banished to the school's gymnasium. Logan takes two stairs at a time as he carries you off in the direction of your shared room. It’s far from the student’s quarters and the walls are soundproof from back when Logan’s nightmares were more frequent. They’re all but gone since you maneuvered yourself into his life.

(It’s technically still his room only, but he was never going to ask you to move in, so you’ve just started sneaking things in and leaving items behind until it was obvious. You know he’s noticed and cleared space for your abandoned items in his dresser, closet, and bathroom. He’s just too stubborn to admit defeat. And you’re happy to spare his ego and let him be the one to finally mention it.)

If anyone in the mansion hears your grumbling and cursing, they tune you out–already accustomed to you and Logan bickering. Your protests die in your throat as you take a sharp intake of air when he smacks your ass, his large hand definitely leaving a stinging mark. If it's not already red, he may spank you one or two more times...especially if you mouth off.

Once in his room, he tosses you onto his bed but you bounce back up and try to shove past him, a half-assed attempt to keep playing cat and mouse, to make him chase you some more. He hooks you around the waist and throws you back on the bed, this time bearing down on top of you. His body is strong, solid, and heavy with adamantium as he pins you down, his chest vibrating with a growl.

"No more talking."

"Oh baby, that's not how I fuck," you moan and hook one of your legs around his waist. One hand grabs his ass, giving you leverage to grind against him.

"Such a filthy mouth," he snarls, his teeth grazing your jaw before he nips at your ear. His facial hair scratches at your skin, raising goosebumps along your flesh. Your nipples tighten and ache, desperate for his mouth.

"You love it."

His chest vibrates with another deep growl just before he claims your mouth, your lips smashing together hard enough that your teeth make contact, and your lips get caught in the crossfire. There's a brief taste of iron but whomever it belongs to heals quickly, the sting relieved as his tongue delves into your mouth.

"Can't...stand it...anymore. Can't take it," he groans as he kisses you. He pulls away just to kiss and bite along your jaw, down the column of your throat.

"Poor thing, powerless to resist me?" you keen, your breath hitching as he bites your neck a little harder, his tongue soothing it a second later. You grind your hips, answering with your own moans, proud of yourself for getting a rise out of him. Your nails dig into his back, definitely tearing at his shirt. He pulls his head back and hisses as the sensation rides the border between pain and pleasure. He reaches for you, his hands shackling your wrists and pinning your arms by your head.

"Be a good girl for once and don't move," he commands you, releasing your hands so that he can take off his shirt and rip off his belt. He yanks your pants down, getting increasingly agitated as he struggles with the fabric. With your shirt, he pulls it up until it bunches around your wrists, effectively shackling you. As for your sports bra and underwear…

"Nonono!"

SNIKT!

"Sonuvabitch!" you curse as he cuts the fabric with one of his claws. He just chuckles. He's slowed down just for a moment to drag a single claw down the middle of your sports bra, along the line of your cleavage. Your breasts spill out as he cuts the straps next. Your breasts are bared to him and he lavishes them with the attention you crave. You no longer keep your hands above your head as you card your fingers through his thick hair, pulling on it as you arch your back and press your breasts further into his hands and mouth. He bites at your supple flesh as his fingers knead your nipples into aching peaks. A mewling whimper escapes your lips as you roll your hips against him some more but his jeans are still on.

"Are you gonna fuck me, or do I need to get myself off?" you challenge him while biting your bottom lip. His answer comes after he slides a hand down your body and rubs your pussy through your soaked underwear.

"Nobody makes you come but me, sweetheart," he says gruffly, his own arousal evident in his voice before he kisses you again, deeply, passionately, possessive. He steals your breath away and when he lets you up for air you gasp, your chest heaving as he's pinned your breasts between you. You love the feeling of his chest hair against your skin.

"Then prove it…Bub," you gasp, surprising yourself and giggling at the use of the nickname. He shakes his head with amusement, only slightly cringing at your joke.

The next thing you know, he's sitting up, unzipping his jeans and ripping your underwear off without the use of his claws. (You don't wear your nicer panties when sparring with Logan is on the schedule.) The sports bra, you'd thought you could save. His dick is straining against his boxer briefs but you hardly get a glimpse of his perfectly thick cock before he's pushing inside you.

Normally, you like it when he fingers you first. When he stretches you out with two or three fingers while he tongues and sucks on your clit. You lament the opportunity for beard burn on your inner thighs but you’ll make up for that some other time. For now you’re just as desperate for him, as he is for you.

"Mmm fuck," he growls as he bottoms out. "So fucking tight. So wet. Love the scent of you on my sheets." He hunches forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck. He bites and sucks a mark into your skin. It'll heal, but at least the two of you will know it was there. You rake your fingers through his hair, pulling on it, your nails scraping his scalp. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles in the small of his back.

"Yes, Logan, yes baby fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me come," you urge him on, trying to roll your hips to match his rapid rhythm, but you can't keep up. The sensations are intense and overwhelming, until you've lost the strength in your arms and you just let yourself go. You submit to him in every way, allowing yourself to be used for his pleasure just as you know your pleasure is his. "Fuck, Logan, I'm so close…" you moan.

Your body is languid, liquid heat beneath him, your skin scorching hot no matter where he touches you. He drags his big hands down your body, starting at the base of your throat, over your heartbeat, kneading your breasts before sliding them down your stomach and grasping your hips. Changing pace to long, hard strokes, he rubs your clit with his thumb as he raises your hips off the bed. Your hips start bucking like you're trying to get away from the intensity of his thumb on your clit, but he keeps pulling you back to him, thrusting deeper as you two battle for release. You cry out, coming so hard your legs are shaking. You reach out to him and he extends one of his arms. Your fingers dig into his forearm as you hold on, feeling like you could fly off the bed, but Logan has you. He'll never let you go.

"Ohh, fuck," he groans, his mouth hanging open and his lips almost pulling back to bare his teeth like an animal. His eyes roll back as he nearly loses himself to the feeling of your orgasm, the pulsing sensation of your pussy squeezing him tight. You keep rolling your body, pushing and pulling with your grip on his arm,  drawing out your climax. His fingers dig into your hips. He finally bares his teeth, growling, his face twisting into a feral snarl. "Fuck, baby."

He pulls out suddenly and you cry, mourning the loss of being full. But then he flips you over, fast enough to elicit a startled giggle. His smug chuckle is lost as you end up face down on the bed. You're about to get up to your hands and knees when Logan slams back into you, going deeper from this position. You moan into his pillow, noting his own unique smell of leather, cigars, and pine. His hand holds onto your shoulder for leverage as he starts piston his hips at a rapid pace, fucking into you from behind, pressing you into the mattress.

“Don’t stop. Keep going,” you urge him on, knowing that the moment it’s too much for you, if you say stop, he will. “Oh my god, fu--I'm gonna come again," you whimper. He lets out a rugged laugh and spanks your ass...once, twice, and then rubbing your skin to soothe the red marks before he grabs your ass to help you push back and ride his dick.

"Yesss," he hisses, "Yeah sweetheart, let it go, come again. I've got you," he grunts, the words oddly sweet in contrast to the pounding you're getting.

Your next orgasm is matched by his. You can't see him behind you but you know what it looks like when Logan comes. You love the way his nose scrunches up, his head falls back and then rolls to the side like he's about to crack his neck. Then he shakes head like he's clearing his head from the fog of mind-blowing sex. His body shudders, all of his muscles are tense, flexed, rock hard. If you were on your back, you'd be kissing and nipping at his broad chest as you rake your nails down his abs. For now, you can take in the sight of him by straining to look over your shoulder. His thrusts stutter to a complete stop as he fills you up.

"Yes, baby…yes, feels so good," you pant, praising him. The corner of his mouth turns up in a proud smirk. He takes a few deep breaths and slides his hand up and down your spine. You fully sink into the mattress, boneless and spent, and he leans over you, propping most of his weight on his arms beside you.

Your breathing synchronizes as you lay there together. He peppers your shoulders with open mouth kisses and gently nips at the curve of your neck as you expose it.

"You like that, sweetheart?" he murmurs softly in your ear.

"Mmm, yes," you answer, "always." Your eyes are closed as you focus on the remnants of pleasure coursing through your body. You press your ass against him, earning yourself a few more lazy, taunting thrusts from him. He pulls out, his dick still hard and throbbing with a stamina unmatched by your own. You clench your legs shut, determined to keep his seed inside you, as you both love a messy round two. He rolls onto his side, taking you with him until you're on your back and looking up at him.

"You drive me crazy, baby girl," he grumbles…with obvious affection as he nuzzles you and then softly kisses you.

"You love it," you defend yourself playfully.

"Mmmhmm," he growls his agreement before kissing you again, one hand slowly exploring the planes of your body once more. He loves it when you play hard to get. He loves it when you talk back and antagonize him. He loves having a partner who keeps up with him and then still kicks his ass in training. He loves it when you challenge his lone wolf act. He loves it all, because it makes these moments happen--moments where two seemingly invincible people can come together and feel safe enough to love and be loved.

-----

It's been 2 years since I posted any fics... I hope ya'll liked this! Let me know!

p.s. made a wolverine specific sideblog: @feral4wolverine

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS

+ MOODBOARD IMAGINES

SET. : in between chapter 3 and chapter 4

LENGTH : 3.4k

A/N : do you darlings remember this (↓) moodboard? well, i thought it would be a good idea to write the scenarios i featured in it just cause... hehe~ (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) i hope you darlings enjoy the read!

On his break, Sirius has a routine, one that involves lighting a cigarette. Usually he would have the decency to step outside but his schedule was stressful for the day and all he really wanted to do was just sit by an open window, slumped into a chair smoking his cigarette until there was nothing left to smoke. Thankfully the rest of the work day wasn’t going to be as packed so he could finally start taking it easy. 

Grey eyes drifting over to the clock on the wall, Sirius hums thoughtfully. Almost lunch time. He’ll need to cut his smoke break short if he wants to have enough time for a decent lunch. It’s another ritualistic practice for him to not pack anything for lunch; he was a horrible cook and usually prioritises sleeping in over eating breakfast and preparing a lunch, it’s the same for James and Remus too. Thankfully there’s a pretty good fish and chip shop down the street. Or maybe he could get a medium pizza for himself at the pizza local place? Maybe get a large pizza for the whole group? 

Propping his ankle up onto his opposite knee, Sirius drags a slow breath in and waits a moment before releasing the smoke. He tries to aim the fumes out the window as much as possible but the air is a fickle thing and stubbornly lingered around him. Nevertheless, he takes the time to admire the swirling fumes, artistic and free to take any form they so pleased. It was one of the small pleasures in smoking that he could bask in. 

“Siri–!” Sirius promptly snaps out of his daze with your call and the opening of the break room door. One step into the room and you were already having a coughing fit. Hurrying to stand, Sirius smothers his cigarette in an ashtray and reaches for a nearby folder of generic designs to fan the smoke out of the open window. 

“You okay there, sweets?” he calls, brows furrowed into a concerned crease as he watches your struggle for air slowly calm. 

“I-I’m okay,” another slight cough slips past your lips despite the assurance, “sorry for disturbing you,” as most of the smoke escapes the room, pliant to Sirius’ frenetic fanning, you manage a small smile that he shyly returns, ashamed of his inconsiderate actions. Though he truly didn’t anticipate you returning to the shop. His shame doesn’t linger for long, however as he keeps the window open and makes his way over with open arms, pulling you into an embrace. 

“What a pleasant surprise, what are you doing here, Doll?” he looks down at you, admiring your sweet face as it scrunches up in slight distaste and his heart drops. What’s upset his sweetheart? 

“Y-you smell like cigarettes…” you utter without a single thought and immediately clasp your hands over your mouth, muffling a gasp of realisation. That was so rude!

“Shit–”

“I-I’m so sorry, Sirius. I didn’t mean to be ru–” but your apology was cut short when the tattoo artist steps away and begins pulling his shirt over his head and hurries about the room, looking for something.

“Sorry about that, Princess,” he gives up on his search and turns to you with a bashful smile, his toned torso and idiosyncratic tattoos on full display. Your mind goes completely blank as you admire the chiselled contours of his muscles and the beautiful tattoos that decorate his skin.

“U-uhh…” 

“I guess I’ll have to ask James if he has a spare shirt or something…” muttering to himself, Sirius looks up and finally catches your eye, immediately noticing your admiring gaze. Naturally, a devilish smirk tugs at his lips, “or not~”

He has the face of an angel and the body of a jock with the eyes and lips of a demon. 

Over time, you’ve come to visit the boys at their parlour more often and the guilt of distracting them from their work has chewed away at you. They were always quick to say that they adore having you around the parlour so your discouragement quickly dissipates. Nevertheless, you wanted to do good by them and started going on snack duties, not only to provide refreshments for them but also for their clients. 

As a group and as a business, they agreed it would be a good investment to provide complimentary food and drink for their clients and themselves; getting tattoos was just as exhausting as giving them, especially for the big order clients. Therefore each room was fitted with a mini fridge and basket to host an array of snacks and beverages for anyone to have as they pleased. 

The accumulated bill cost a pretty penny but one that the boys were willing to pay, they even managed to strike a deal with the vegan specialty store across the street to provide their best snacks for customers as a form of free advertising. It warmed your heart but it didn’t come close to the butterflies you felt when you found that the boys were first attracted to the shop for their regular donations to a local dog shelter. 

You just came back from your trip over to help restock the fridges and snack baskets in each room. Remus was manning the front desk and handling clients and prospective customers. There was a stack of paperwork piled up next to him so he could multitask and stay preoccupied when there was a lull in business. 

Meanwhile, Sirius was tending to a client and their massive back tattoo. You remember him telling you that this was just their second session and that he still had one or two more sessions left to go. You managed to slip in and out of the room without distracting him or his client too much; both were very busy, except for the emotional-support friend the client had brought along, who appreciated the restock of snacks and raided the stash even as you were restocking. The two of you giggled at that together as Sirius chuckled under his breath, shouting an appreciative ‘thank you’ while his client grumbled playfully, apologetic about their glutton of a friend. Their interaction made you giggle while slipping out the door and making your way to James' room - you don’t believe he’s with a client right now so you weren’t as anxious over potentially disturbing his flow. Though he was expecting one to arrive soon, according to his calendar. 

“Snacks restock,” you call through the door with a knock before stepping inside. 

“Thanks, angel,” James was in an all-black attire today. Black jeans, heavy leather Doc Martens and a black, compression shirt that accentuated his slim waist, broad shoulders and sculpted muscles. That along with his black latex gloves and the beautiful collage of tattoos weaving up his forearms stops you in place. It’s undeniable how attractive these men are but, as James sits in his artist chair, posture relaxed but oozing with confidence, dressed like sin with his boyish grin and adorable round glasses on, an antithesis to his dangerous attire, you stop in your tracks and stutter embarrassingly. It has to be illegal how divine he looks right now…

Using the wheels and mobility of his artist chair, James moves to sit before you as he examines the contents of your bag through the opening at the top and mutters about which ones he’s eyeing for himself. However, your stock-still, frozen figure doesn’t go unnoticed and he’s soon staring up at you. His hazel eyes shine with curiosity and thinly veiled mischief. 

“Something wrong, Angel?” the pleasant drawl of his voice draws you from your obvious daydreaming and you’re stuttering out a pathetic, incoherent answer as he chuckles quietly, “Have you fallen for me?~”

The fucking tease! 

It’s a hot summer day and Remus was sweating buckets up in the office. The heat was torturous and he silently begged for the winter cold to rush back with an icy fever, his desperation for a cool breeze evident in his dishevelled state. 

It was common for James and Sirius to go around topless in their shameless, over-confident ways but Remus was stubborn about keeping a shirt on. They had been warned about the rising heat thanks to earlier weather warnings but preparing with a breezy linen button up wasn’t enough for Remus to keep to his strict dress code. For once, you were seeing him half-naked (almost) and like you were with Sirius and James the first time they surrendered to the heat, you stood in shock as an additional heat tormented your cheeks. 

You didn’t know what to expect. 

Clearly James was the muscular one of the three, Sirius was skinny but it didn’t mean he didn’t have any muscle – his arms and abs were especially defined, his thighs too, probably from his motorcycle. Remus was tall so, as the stereotype went, you didn’t expect him to have much muscle definition. However, as he laid back in his seat, his linen shirt unbuttoned but still tucked into his trousers and draped over his broad shoulders, you’re able to observe significant definition in his chest and the ridges of washboard-abs along his torso. Your eyes almost bulge out when you see the cuts of a V leading into his crotch area.  

Remus despaired over feeling like a sweat-drenched dog, foul-smelling and unsightly with clumpy, sweaty hair when, in actuality, he couldn’t look better. Ths sweat made his skin glisten and helped keep his hair pushed back in the most attractive way. With his head slumped backward, his adam’s apple prominent, his tattoos on full display along the toned expanse of his torso, Remus looked heavenly. Especially with the sun shine pouring in from the open window and showering him in specs of gold. 

So caught up in your silent admiration, you don’t notice when Remus peeks one eye open and spots you with a soft smile. 

“You alright there, Dove?” he asks, chuckling as he sees the exact moment you were brought back to the present, “I see you’ve gotten my water for me,”

“Oh! Y-yeah,” you shyly walk up to him and hand over the chilled bottle of water from the mini fridge downstairs. 

“You really are an angel,” he accepts the bottle and kisses the knuckles of your hand in thanks before taking a thirsty gulp. His sweet action of gratitude makes you want to squeal out loud but you bite your lip, not wanting to expose yourself. It was already embarrassing enough having to be caught staring. 

It was then, however, that you took notice of a small, faded tattoo that didn’t match the gallery of inky art collaging Remus’ torso, “That tattoo looks different,” you say without thinking as you point towards the slightly faded crescent moon on Remus’ chest. 

“Oh!” Remus chuckles and caresses his inked skin gently, fondness swimming in his chocolate-pool eyes, “This one is quite special actually,”

“Really?”

He nods and launches into the story when observing the curious look in your eyes, “When the guys and I finally graduated secondary school, we all got drunk off our asses and went to a hole-in-the-wall tattoo parlour to commemorate the occasion,” you both share a laugh at their reckless but typical behaviour as teenagers, “each of us got a silly little tattoo and the next day, when we were hungover, half-naked in James’ room – James on the floor, Sirius in the bathtub of his ensuite and me leaning against his bookcase, nobody on the bed –” you both laugh again, “we all found out we got different tattoos and from that, came our nicknames,”

You brows raise in interest, “You mean–”  

“I have a moon so I’m ‘Moony’,” Remus confirms as your eyes sparkle with delight, a sight that Remus adores more than he’d ever admit aloud, “Sirius got a dog paw–”

“So that’s why you call him ‘Padfoot’, makes sense. What about James?”

“A stag head so he’s–”

“Prongs!” you cheer and giggle at finally discovering the reason behind their peculiar nicknames. It all made so much more sense now! 

“My Angel calls for me?~” James’ voice sings through the door before he’s sauntering in and opening his arms, expecting you to fall willingly into them. It was tempting, considering he was shirtless and you’d love nothing more than to be held against his muscles but today was already swelteringly hot so you politely decline, to which smug expression James’ drops into that of a pitiful puppy’s. 

It’s not a secret that the boys adore you, not only were you kind and sweet and the prettiest little thing they’ve ever laid their eyes on but you also cook like an absolute angel and they can never get enough, especially when compared to their own mediocre cooking skills. After being spoiled by you so often, they can no longer fathom eating their own inferior cuisine. They’ve expressed this to you multiple times so, whenever you could, you would cook dinner for them and you’d all eat together at their flat. It usually happened over the weekend and they always offered to pay for the ingredients needed. 

Tonight, you had something special in mind to cook for them but weren’t well stocked on ingredients so it was agreed that Sirius would pick you up on his bike when you were finished shopping at the store. You made sure to text the tattooist a predicted time for when you would be finished with your shopping, remaining faithful to your shopping list so that you didn’t keep him waiting too long out in the overcast, chilly weather. Typical England.  

Hurrying to get past self check out, you smile at the singular bag of ingredients you held in your hand, excited to spoil the boys with another night of good food. You aren’t shy in admitting how attractive Sirius was but it was unfair how sultry he looked when on his bike, wearing his all-black, leather outfit, his huge helmet and fingerless gloves. The many eyes eating him up were evidence enough of his ethereal beauty. And with his helmet on too. Perhaps it was the mystery of who he was behind the mask that these strangers fawned over him so much. You couldn’t fault them though, you would be the same in their shoes.

Having made this trip multiple times already, you recognised him and his bike in an instant.. Behind the visor of his helmet, Sirius suppresses an affectionate coo over how you visibly perk up when your eyes land on him. There was no need for sun when Sirius had your smile to light up his day. 

“You good, Doll?” Sirius’ voice comes out muffled by his helmet as he dismounts his bike and opens up the storage compartment under the seat. He exchanges the spare helmet stored in the hidden compartment for the bag of groceries in your hand, “You got everything?”  

“Yeah, thanks for waiting, Siri!”

You don’t see it but he smiles happily at the sound of your twinkling voice, “No worries, Doll,” he mounts the bike once more and takes it off it’s stand, “hop on,” 

At this point, he expected you to be able to put your helmet on by yourself but he doesn’t account for the slight delay as you make sure it’s fitted over your head properly. Unable to help himself, Sirius waits leaning forward with his hand propping his head up as his elbow rests on the body of his bike. The stance makes him look as though he was admiring you like some lovestruck, teenage boy. When you catch sight of him after finally getting your helmet on, you laugh and throw your head back with the movement but end with placing your hands on your hips - scolding his actions, almost, although it was all in good fun. His response was to blow you a kiss by, first, touching his fingers to the front of his helmet and then laying his hand flat towards you. 

You clutch at your stomach to contain the giggles as your shoulders shake before finally deciding to play along and return the gesture, imitating a flying kiss that he catches and holds to his chest. Whenever the helmet was put on, the two of you always got into the habit of exaggerating your movements seeing as your facial expressions were obscured. But that mask gives you two such confidence that you’re more comfortable with being flirtatious with each other. 

You don’t complain but it makes your heart thump with want and a desire you were too afraid to fulfil. 

“Sirius loves his bike,” Remus explains, “and James loves his car,” both men were too distracted taking maintenance of their respective vehicles to listen to Remus’ explanation of their attentiveness. It was the weekend and you had arranged to have Remus keep you accountable for completing your upcoming essay. At some point, you two join James and Sirius in the garage as they do the regular checks of their beloved ‘rides’. Their vigilant focus as they mill about the engines and operations of their car and bike were a great motivator for completing your essay and now that you’ve finished, you observe them in their element. 

Both men had their muscular, tattooed arms on full display, clad in only their tight tank tops, ones that already had stains to begin with so they didn’t mind staining more as their fingers blackened with motor residue.  

“What do you love, Remus?” you ponder, needing a distraction from the beguiling display before you but also curious. Did Remus have a secret love for a particular motor vehicle like the other two as well? You were beyond curious, although you couldn’t think of any other motor vehicle he would likely obsess over. 

“Can’t say,” the tall brunette shrugs, subtly peering down at you from his higher vantage point, “I’m pretty sure those two love it just as much as I do so it won’t count,” his answer leaves you curious but he doesn’t elaborate further. Was he talking about a motor vehicle or something else entirely?

Giggling beside Remus, you watch the exchange unfold before you with amused eyes and a warm smile hidden behind your fingers. Seeing James and/or Sirius become whiny and pouty wasn’t an everyday occurrence but it happened often enough that you were used to their shenanigans and didn’t give in as easily as you used to, especially with Remus at your side to keep the boys in check. Such as right now. If it weren’t for Remus, you’re sure James and Sirius would have continued to whine and throw a strop until their clients got impatient, left and then proceeded to write a very passionate review about the lack of service. Thankfully, the piercer shooed them away as efficiently as always, reminding the two of their responsibilities and scheduled patrons. 

“Stupid Moony,” James mutters under his breath as he walks away with Sirius, “...always getting Angel all to himself…” 

As soon as the two are out of sight, Remus takes his usual seat behind the front desk and pulls out a small paperback book to keep him occupied. With warm eyes directed at you, he smiles and asks, “would you like to join me for a good read, Dove?” as he speaks, he brings his hand down to rest on his thigh and, with your reeling mind, you mistake the gesture for an invitation that you couldn’t refuse.

Remus never expected you to look so adorable when approaching to sit with him for a read at the register but, other than that, he never expected you to sit on his thigh. You didn’t meet his eyes at first so you didn’t see his shocked state or the creeping grin tugging up the corners of his lips.  

It was embarrassing but this isn’t the first time the boys had you sit in their laps. This was just the first time you were made to sit on your own accord. You don’t think your embarrassment could get any more drastic, however, until you finally look up to see the surprised look on Remus’ face and finally realise your mistake. 

“Oh god! I’m so sorry!” 

He laughs at how adorable you are and winds his strong arm around your waist before you could even attempt to hop off his thigh. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” unable to resist, Remus presses a soft kiss against your temple and pulls you even closer to him, “you’re welcome to use me as a seat anytime,” he smiles adoringly at your bashful demeanour, “in fact, I encourage it,”

NAVI. | SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N : for those of you that don't know, the moodboard was requested by my darling moot @diputy on my 1k milestone event (now closed) but if you're curious, here are the links to the event and the request masterlist : 1k EVENT | 1k MLIST

TAGLIST : @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @mangodamochiii @queerqueenlynn @l3xiluve @brain-has-left @bunbunbl0gs @kneelforloki @citrusiove @virtualbuni @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @that1nerd-20 @wolfstar4everbitches @skepvids @dearmy-diary @littledollfacebaby @mylifeisnothing @em16cor @krazyk99 @imdoingbetternow @realalpacorn @remussbitch @swiftieeras1989 @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @canthavetoomuchchaos @rckstrbee @b-i-h-i @ennycutie @kneelforloki @theteaobsessedbug @padfoot1313 @d1gital-data @venezsuwayla @melllinaa

[agendabymooner]

icy in saudi ! oliver b. x ofc (raikkonen!driver!ofc)

summary: romania ‘(a)roma’ raikkonen, now one of aston martin’s reserve and development drivers, became an f1 wag overnight after ollie turned out to be carlos sainz’s substitute for the saudi arabian grand prix.

AND she also had her personal ‘reverse harem’ aka the boys that kimi feared to have around the icegirl.

content warning: use of explicit language, establish relationship, brief mentions of kimi raikkonen, dad!kimi, f2 drivers appearance + banters, brief sexual innuendo, tweets, crack fic, 2024 saudi arabian grand prix, oc!raikkonen brother jo raikkonen (face claim: conrad laursen), kimi antonelli and ofc’s sister bantering

note: this guy goated as hell. here’s some content that ppl asked for 😭😭 it’s not much but enjoy regardless xx

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

2024 — ROUND 2, SAUDI ARABIAN GP

BREAKING NEWS: Ferrari driver Carlos Sainz hospitalized and underwent appendectomy. He is now replaced by reserve driver, Oliver Bearman, for this race.

SAUDI ARABIAN GP, POST-RACE

tagged olliebearman

liked by theopourchaire21, arthur_leclerc, frederikvestiofficial

user1 the way you called in sick as a reserve driver just to support ollie 😭😭 i want that

rooraikkonen goated ferrari driver after kimi raikkonen 🙌 liked by romaraikkonen

veracoparaikko splendid job today, ollie! liked by romaraikkonen

kimimatiasraikkonen well done, ollie 👍 liked and pinned by romaraikkonen

romaraikkonen pinning this so he can brag about it

user2 the ‘well done’ was one thing… BUT CALLING HIM OLLIE?!

user3 someone check on kimi, he’s having a stroke and calling the one guy that he despises the most by his nickname

olliebearman hehe

olliebearman love u 🙂 liked by romaraikkonen

romaraikkonen stfu lemme just appreciate ur talent pls

olliebearman ok 🙂😊

jackdoohan god what a simp 😔

theopourchaire21 let’s all pray for our fallen brother. he passed away after he suffered from ‘down baddery’

arthur_leclerc 🙏

user4 WHY ARE YALL CLOWNING OLLIE 😭😭😭 WE GET IT HES DOWN BAD BUT HE MEANS WELL

frederikvestiofficial he’s so down bad it’s actually sickening 💀

romaraikkonen i’m gonna break your ankle the next time i see you, vesti bestie

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck

[peachsayshi]

@nyxronomicon babe, your tags. I am squealing! you want more? well, then this is for you (also to share what I had in mind hehe):

ex boyfriend villain!nanami doesn't approach you at all while you are in the bar. the entire time your on the precipice of anticipation, just waiting for him to tap your shoulder or bump into you out of nowhere. but nothing happens.

nothing happens until you go outside, and find him standing outside the building all by himself. yes, you are right. he is bulkier than usual. much fitter, and clearly far stronger. you can sense it in his energy. he was already a grade one sorcerer before this, what has he been doing as of late? you wonder if it has anything to do with suguru - nanami made his choice aligning with him.

he stands there, an unlit cigarette twirling between his fingers. he looks at you with contemplation and you are frozen in place. a stand off but you're not sure what move to make.

he scans your body, all the way to your feet where he sees the lace of your heels starting to loosen. he doesn't say anything when he tucks the cigarette behind his ear, but two steps towards you prompts you to move two steps back.

"what are you doing?" you ask, panicked, not realizing that there is actual fear in your tone.

"your shoes," he points out calmly.

you shift your weight, noticing that the right heel does in fact feel slightly looser than the left. and even though you don't want him to come closer (or at least you think you don't), nanami eases his way towards you and gets down on his knees.

there's a lump in your throat when he casually picks up your foot and places it on his thigh. there's a chill that runs up your legs, feeling the hands of this killer delicately readjust the strap of your heel.

"when did you start smoking?" is all you can think of asking, out of the millions of questions and statements and comments that compile in your mind.

only then does he smile. the tiniest tick no the corner of his lip. but he doesn't answer your question. he simply ties the knot around your ankle and stands up, his body far too close to your liking.

your kento was more reserved, a little shy even. but not this kento.

you swallow the lump again, flinching when he brings his hand up thinking he might do something. his eyes widen at the reaction, but he continues to smoothly reach for the cigarette and pretends like he doesn't see it.

his gaze doesn't leave yours once.

"and when did you get this?" he asks cautiously, the depth of his voice unmistakably warm, his tone a forbidden note that no one should hear so closely.

you flinch when his fingers press against your back exposed by your dress. the digits trailing over the middle of your spine vertically and following the pattern tattooed on your skin.

it's a symbol of protection against evil. one you got five months after your break up.

you don't know how long you both stand there, taking the other in. only breaking away when a few people leave the bar. you spin on your heel, your pulse beating heavily against your neck to see who it is, thinking it might be the rest of his group.

but all you catch is a drunk couple laughing loudly as they leave the bar.

when you turn back around, kento is nowhere to be found.

and you don't like that your heart aches because of it.

[sugaryplum]

our sweater

pairing: theodore nott x reader (didn't use any pronouns or looks description) summary: it's the third of december and sweaters look better on the floor. warnings: sexy times briefly mentioned, language mistakes. the obviously referenced song is out in the universe in this, so you could stretch it to be a modern!au? this is mostly just dialogue, i should just start writing movie scripts or something. writing dialogues is my favourite thing in the world. + you guys seemed to like it last time hehe <3 notes: it is not the third of december. but how dare you bring it up. oh and i’m back, sorry i disappeared for a month? i was busy doing literally nothing.

“so when are you gonna give me that sweater?” you’re laying upside down on theo’s bed, legs up against the wall. he doesn’t even look up from the desk, just muttering a quiet “what?” your way.

“it’s the third of december.” to your satisfaction, he turns his chair to face you. or at least your body, bent in the weird pose out of boredom. you’re not sure if his confused expression is because of that, or because of the the sweater question out of nowhere. either way, you smile and start singing, slightly off key, with a closed fist close to your mouth to imitate a microphone. “i still remember the third of december! me and your sweater, you said it looked better…”

“it does look better on you.” you’re interrupted.

you tilt your head slightly. “obviously.”

after a second or two, he smirks, you can almost see his teeth. “i wonder how it’d look on my floor.” the words are quiet, muffled with a chuckle. you raise your eyebrows in disbelief and turn your head to him, silent, amused.

“i do have a lot of floor space…” he starts again.

your eye roll is an enough of an answer.

“i think your sweater would look great on it.”

“oh, so it’s my sweater now?” you grin, looking almost proud of yourself for catching the word. it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

“when it ends up on my floor it will be mine again.”

“so end up on your floor shall not.”

“it will, eventually.” his legs move from the floor and cross, stretched out on the edge of the bed. you look at the ceiling for a second, and then at him again. “so the question is how?”

“in many ways it could happen…”

“do enlighten me.”

he sighs and pauses. “me removing the sweater for example.”

“removing it from me?”

“yes.”

“it’s getting interesting.” you shift in your place, completely changing the position. your legs are stretched out in front of you, your ankles laying on theo’s calves. “what then?”

“i would put it on my floor.” he says matter–of–factly. when you chuckle, he adds. “and you would get cold.” you nod. his eyes are locked in yours and after a pause, his squint slightly. “i like it when you’re cold. makes you rely on me.”

you chuckle, raising your eyebrows again. “it’s good this year’s winter is quite warm.”

“then it's lucky i turned down the heating. hope you can manage.”

you laugh out loud this time. he laughs too. when laughs turn to smiles, still looking at each other, you take a moment to appreciate his face. noticing every pretty detail, every part of his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his lips. his expression, you rarely see him looking at anyone or anything else like this.

you sigh with a smile. “i like our sweater.”

“our?”

“you called it mine. and i don’t see it on your floor. but i’m willing to call it ours, as a compromise. look how good of a soul i am.”

“the sweater is mine. i meant i allowed you to wear it.”

“so why do i not have it now? it’s the third of december, need i remind you.”

he sighs and bents down, far to the side, refusing to leave the chair. he reaches his wardrobe, barely, and takes out a brown sweater. before you process, it’s thrown at you. you just know he aimed at your head, messing up your hair on purpose.

it’s slightly crumpled, but it smells like him, so you don’t mind. you would never mind.

you put it on, smiling proudly, goal accomplished. he rolls his eyes and breaks a smile.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Daddy's Girl

Pairing: Dark Tangerine x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Tangerine can’t stand his little girl’s tears, especially when you’re the reason behind them.

WARNING: Forced/Abusive Marriage; Implied Kidnapping context; NONCON. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Make sure to imagine that lovely British accent of his, hehe. Also I wanted to wait a bit before posting this, but I wanna share this so bad :) enjoy!

--

The loud noise from the television travels to the kitchen, muffling down the sounds of the knife violently cutting down a carrot. Tangerine has a tight grip on the knife, a pissed off scowl on his face as he spits an unhealthy amount of curses. 

He’s so caught up that he misses the small quiet steps that run towards the kitchen and it’s only when there is a hesitant tug on his sleeve that he looks down, finding a small female miniature of himself, standing in her tippy toes in front of him as she raises her arms, her brown curls bouncing. 

He smiles at her, immediately picking her up, pushing the knife far away. Delighted giggles fill the kitchen as he tickles her. 

“What you doin’ here, princess? Are you hungry, sweetheart, cause lunch ain’t ready yet.” he kisses her cheek, his eyes glinting with pure amazement as he looks at Claire. 

His little angel. 

Claire’s laughter slowly dies down and she plays with the rings on his fingers. Her lip wobbles and when she finally looks at him, her eyes shinny with tears. 

It breaks Tangerine’s heart to see her like that and he wants nothing but to slap the shit out of you for making your babygirl cry. 

“I… I miss mommy.” her voice breaks as she starts crying. Tangerine sighs, hole burning in his chest as he gently pushes her head to his shoulder, rocking her in an attempt to calm her down. His hand rubs her back, her small body shaking as she sobs.

“Daddy, I want m-mommy.” she begs. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But mommy still needs some time.” he tries to console her but to no avail. 

Claire cries for what seems like forever and when she finally calms down, Tangerine's shirt is soaking wet, the lunch long forgotten. 

It takes several deep breaths for him to calm down and although he wants to go see you so badly, he puts Claire to sleep first.

He tucks her into her pink bed, placing her favorite teddy bear next to her. A peaceful expression rests on her face, exhausted from all the crying and Tangerine kisses her forehead before leaving the room.

“She fuckin’ cried herself to sleep.” Tangerine shouts to your face, your scalp stinging as his grip on your hair tightens.

“Do y’fuckin understand that? She fuckin’ cried because of you. Cause you’re a fuckin’ shitty mother, that’s what you are.”

Thick tears fall down from your red eyes and you stumble back when he releases your hair, falling back as you trip on the heavy chain attached to your ankle. 

You fall butt-down, pain alastrating on your back but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even compare to the deep ache in your heart.

You also miss her. So much. It hurts that you haven’t seen your daughter in a week, kept in the basement as Tangerine lies about you being sick.  

“All she kept saying was how much she missed you. That she wanted you to feel better so she could finally see you. Fuck!”

“I…I’m so sorry.” you cry out. Tangerine only glares at you, nostrils flaring up. 

“This is all your fuckin’ fault. You just had to act smart, didn’t ya? Fucking’ hell.” his hand meets the wall with a loud bang and you wince, burying your face in your hands, frightened.

You’ve never seen him this angry before. Not even at the few times you tried to run away years ago. For once you’re actually glad that the basement is sound-proofed so that Claire doesn’t have to witness any of this. 

You messed up. Baldly. You should have known better than to plan an escape from Tangerine. 

But you were exhausted. Deeply tired of playing house with Tangerine. As much as you love your daughter but you want a better life. For yourself. For your sweet daughter. As much as you smile and laugh, pretending to be happy and in love with Tangerine for the sake of your daughter, you had reached your breaking point. 

“You're a selfish little’ bitch, only thinking ‘bout saving your own ass.” he snarls. 

You shake your head, desperate. 

“No! That’s not- She’s my daughter too.” 

Tangerine stares at you for what it seems forever and you hold your breath, watching him with a runny nose that you struggle to wipe with the back of your hand.

His hands on his hips as he considers you, neck veins bulging. He runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated as he exhales heavily.

“If you really love her, you gonna fuckin’ behave from now on. And I fuckin’ mean it. No more fuck up’s.” he warns you. 

Blinking away the tears, you nervously nod as he slowly walks towards you before stopping in front of you.

“Ya mean it, right? Then fuckin’ prove it cause you’re not leavin’ this basement without provin’ me that you can do better.” 

Confusion fills you until you see the look on Tangerine’s eyes. With shaky hands, you reach for his belt but he moves your hand towards his shirt and your heart drops. 

Not this. 

It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. You’re barely wet enough yet uncomfortably stretched by your husband’s cock as he slowly thrusts into you.

Given how angry he was, you were expecting him to fully rail you so you were surprised as he went at a slow, calm pace. Good for you.

His head is buried in your neck, low groans coming from him. It’s feel like an eternity as he fucks you gentle and deep till you lose track of time.

You suddenly hiss when his cock rams deep inside you, the thin old mattress softly squeaking under your combined weights. 

He pulls himself on his forearms, facing you as he starts to speed up, quickly slamming his hips forwards with a renewed force and you cry out, hands bawling the sheets. 

“S’ fucking’ tight, darling.” he husked, his sweaty curls falling to your face as he presses your foreheads together. “Gonn’ cum soon, fuck.”

His breathing halts as he fucks you vigorously, urgency in his thrusts. He doesn’t last longer, your velvety walls tightly squeezing his cock just the right way for him to approach his orgasm.

“Fuck, oh, fuck.” with a final harsh thrust, his body tenses up before finally relaxing. Tangerine releases a loud grunt, reaching his high while being balls deep inside you, his hands coming to grab your face as he connects your lips into a needy kiss, the bitter taste of cigarettes on him. 

When he lets you go, you release a shaky breath, feeling gross and violated with his cum beginning to leak. 

His nose touches yours, skin shiny with sweat and his blue eyes half-closed as he exhales, the warm breath hitting your face. He doesn’t seem that angry anymore, men really think with their dicks. 

“That was fuckin’ nice.” he smiles, his knuckles sweetly fawning over your cheek. “Maybe we should consider giving Claire a sibling. I think she’d love a baby brother.”

[atrwriting]

trust me (part 2) — billy the kid (2022) x barowner!reader

okay part two hehe

as always, warnings: smut!, fem!sub!reader, dom!billy, p in v sex, oral m receiving, overstimulation (I should be stopped), choking, dirty talk, breeding kink (hehe)

anyway… trust me, part two:

billy had kept his promise.

he always kept his station right at your bar, in the middle.

you figured it would stop a few days after the two of you were married — but billy held his post.

with billy there and making his silent presence known as your defensive line, most trouble-making men would eye billy, order their drink, grunt, and then pay. to hell with a fake wedding ring, even your real one — when billy the kid sat at your bar, glaring at walking problems from the brim of his hat, no one dared cause a scene.

the townspeople may have stopped their shenanigans… but that didn’t mean that all of your problems disappeared.

in fact, new ones seemed to pop up.

as his new wife, you wouldn’t say they followed billy — but they sure as hell didn’t follow you.

groups of men wearing worn clothes with their guns on display would venture in and immediately start glaring at billy. you found that odd — because what man walks into a bar, and doesn’t immediately order at the bar?

“don’t pay them any mind, sweetheart,” billy would say to you, trying to quell your worries.

you narrowed your eyes at him, wiping down a glass. “if you didn’t want to marry a guard dog, maybe the queen’s daughter is still single.”

his lips would purse in a way that suggested he was fighting a laugh. “i’ll protect you, darlin’. you doubt that?”

“and i’ll protect you,” you bit. “you think i wouldn’t? like i said, you could probably charm —“

“as if any of them could scare me like you do,” he spoke lowly, the want to smile now winning. admiration could be seen in his piercing blue eyes, which also tugged on the corners of his lips.

“as if any of them would know that that’s you trying to be sweet,” you scoffed, half-jokingly. “and — as if anyone would be flattered like i am.”

billy sat back in his chair as he turned his head towards the side. he averted his eyes as he tried to hide his large grin that threatened to take over his face. when a rosy hue had founds it way onto his cheeks — you knew you had done it. you actually made billy the kid blush.

one day you would tease him for it — but not today. with the paranoia that always lingered in the back of your bar — you chose to award yourself and billy with this small moment of intimacy: knowing you were the only person that could break through his tough exterior.

but that tough exterior immediately rose once those men approached the bar.

there were about four or five of them, outnumbering both you and billy. billy always had a gun on his belt, and you had one underneath the counter and strapped to your leg, and a knife on your ankle — but even with those, you were out numbered and out gunned.

when they approached, you put on your brightest smile. “hello, gentlemen — anything i can interest you in?”

“gentlemen?” one, in the back, chortled.

the one in front smirked, swishing the joke in his mouth a little bit. he seemed to contemplate his response for a moment, and you fought the urge to narrow your eyes at them. you could feel the heat of billy’s gaze on the side of the man’s face. finally, the man spoke, “what my… associate means to say, miss... is that we’ve never been called ‘gentlemen’ by such a fine lady.”

you smiled politely. dismissing his words, you asked, “and what can i get for you?”

the man shoved his thumbs into the extra space in his belt, puffing out his chest. his cheeks were rosy — probably from the sun. you weren't sure what he did for work, and you figured it was best not to find out. a man who spent most of their days outside either worked the land or stole from someone else’s. you didn’t want to judge, and didn’t — but they didn’t look as harmless as billy or his gang.

“i was actually wonderin’, beautiful, how you managed to tie ‘ol billy the kid down,” he grunted. “in my day, the kid’s not loyal to nothin’.”

“insulting my husband will not get you drinks on the house, sir,” you stated.

“oh — you think we can’t pay?” he scoffed, his eyes widening. “do my ears deceive me, boys?”

“what’s a lady supposed to believe when you throw a cheap shot in front of her?” you asked before his associates could respond. “you’d be smart to mind the character you give off to the woman who controls the whisky pour, sir.”

his eyes narrowed, but his smirk didn’t waver. “i guess i should mind because my boys and i decided we would make this a regular spot of ours. whisky. five glasses.”

you pulled five glasses and grabbed the bottle from under the counter. lining them up, you began to pour. your gaze never left the man’s as you poured a single shot in each.

like billy said once — they had to respect you, before they respected him.

you pushed the glasses towards the man, and he laid a few bills down on the counter. each man took their glass and began to walk away. before the man you were staring down walked away, he turned to billy, and spoke, “we’ll be seein’ you around, old friend.”

billy didn’t respond. he just glared at him until he sat down.

their departure didn’t not quell any anxiety. having billy there was a blessing when there was one man making a fuss — but five? five who had a problem with billy?

you immediately dipped down under the counter so they couldn’t see you speak to billy.

loud enough, so only he could hear, you asked, “you know him?”

“know 'em enough.”

your teeth sank into your lip. “you want me to fetch jesse? should i get one of the boys in the back?”

“no, darlin’,” he spoke. “i told you — don’t worry about a thing.”

“i don’t appreciate being kept in the dark, billy,” you spoke. “i’m not asking to know everything — but at least let jesse know if you think it’s the right thing to do. you sitting there and not doing anything doesn’t make me believe it’s not a problem — it makes me think you’re only here to make me safe, when it sounds like this is going to get bigger than me.”

“i told you it would be fine,” his answer was quick and flat, dismissive.

“alright,” you sighed. “i trust you.”

you stood up then, averting your attention to a rag and glass in your hands that hopefully gave off the impression that you weren’t trying to secretly talk to billy. you stepped away from billy to stock bottles, attempting to clear your head. you didn’t necessarily blame billy — but you didn’t know how to feel. you didn’t have a problem with who he was or what he did — but you did have a problem with him not being able to handle similar situations as a team. a unit. sure — men would never be as scared of you initially as they are with billy, but you weren’t useless or defenseless.

you knew billy didn’t think of you like that, no. you were more so worried that he didn’t want to share the burden with you.

he should never feel shame. never. not ever.

you walked back over to him then, wiping down the counter. you didn’t raise your eyes, but lowly, you spoke, “i hope you know this, but in case you don’t — i’m proud to be your wife, billy.”

he was mid sip when you said that, which stalled a response from him, so you took another chance. maybe you should have, maybe you shouldn’t have…

but you did anyway.

“and i feel lucky to be with a man who would protect me,” you stated. “that i feel protected by.”

billy didn’t answer — but you weren’t as strong as you were by prying. billy could read you like a book and you hoped that the message was loud and clear: support. he had your support. you didn’t look up at him, didn’t mention it again, and didn’t try to get his attention…

he’d let you know if you needed to know something.

you had to trust him with that.

it would be a little while before the men at the table left. it was approaching close — and you were scared that they would never leave. you tried to keep your gaze off of them, and thankfully you never met their eyes if they had been looking over when you were. unfortunately, it appeared that they had been looking over — because billy was growing tenser by the moment.

“i could kick them out,” you whispered, keeping your head down.

“you’d do that to polite, paying customers, darlin’?” he asked sarcastically, shaking his drink around.

you fought back a smile. “i’m going to let them know about last call. hopefully they take the hint.”

you grabbed a bottle of liquor and ventured over to the men at the table. you kept your gaze trained absentmindedly ahead of you, but not on any of them in particular. when you approached, you had found most of their eyes already on you.

“just coming over to let you gentlemen know that we will be closing soon,” you stated. “can i top anyone off before that?”

“you can top me, sweetheart,” one of them chortled.

“mason, enough,” the man from before barked. “why, yes… that would be very kind of you. we’ll be on our way afterwards.”

you brushed off mason’s comment and began filling their glasses. they each immediately slammed it back, pulled out a few bills, and handed them to you. for whatever reason — they complied. politeness in their demeanors, they stood up and even pushed their chairs in before they left.

the main one, from before — you hadn’t caught his name, threw over his shoulder as he left, “be seein’ you soon, kid.”

from the way billy glared at the door… you knew he took that personal.

a little while later, you were both changing for bed. billy was moving with a sort of frustration in each of his movements. he was quiet, and quietly fuming. there was a deep set in his brow — alerting you that so many thoughts were behind those pretty eyes of his.

“do you want me to trim your hair?” you softly asked. “looks handsome — but looks long enough to get into your eyes soon.”

he didn’t look at you as his teeth sank into his lip. “yes, um… that’d be nice.”

you grabbed shears before gesturing him to sit down.

“i think those men were so rude because they were jealous of your hair,” you mused. “don’t think they’ve seen their own in the mirror for years.”

a corner of his lips raised slightly, but lowered almost immediately. you began to trim around his head, keeping most the length full but not long enough to touch his neck. even if it was impractical for what he needed — you loved the little curls by his hairline.

“they were jealous that i have such a beautiful wife,” he spoke.

“you are something else, mr. bonney…” you trailed off, brushing the stray hairs off of billy and turning to put the shears away.

that was when you felt the slightest touch on your palm, and then you felt fingers weave through yours. you turned to find billy’s blue eyes holding yours. you admired that about billy — even in stressful situations, he was not shy.

you smiled at him, and brought his hand up to your lips. you kissed the back of it, hoping he knew how much love you had for him. after, you climbed into his lap — sitting face to face with him.

“they’re a rival gang,” he spoke, then swallowed thickly. “while we found mostly honest work — they didn’t. we’ve caught them stealing from our employer a few times. nothing we can’t handle, but they’re starting to take it personal.”

you were stunned he even told you. he didn’t keep secrets — but since you two had only been wed for a short time, this was the first real threat that had come at you both. you watched as his jaw tightened a few times, and you were unsure of what it meant.

“is this…” you began. “is this the first time they’ve approached any of you in public?”

he nodded. “i’ll make sure they stay away.”

you raised an eyebrow. “...because of me.”

he didn’t answer. “if this is business, you take care of it like regular ‘ol’ business. you let me get in the way — might not end as well as you think it might.”

his eyes were accusatory. “you think i can’t do both? that i can’t protect you?”

“didn’t say that,” you said softly. “i’m just saying… your gang is made up of a few men, and i’m just one person. i’m worried that if you worry too much about me —“

he caught you by both sides of the chin with that. his touch wasn’t hard or forceful, but sudden enough it caught your attention.

“don’t you dare ever even think that you are less important than them,” he grunted. “you’re what i’ve got in this world. you, darlin’. don’t you forget that.”

“i know,” you sighed. “you’re everything i’ve got in this world. i didn’t need a man, you saw… but i wanted you.”

his lips parted at that, and his eyes began to search yours. you had never seen anything like it; billy appearing so pure and vulnerable, almost innocent. like he was laying himself bare before you and he didn’t even realize he was.

“i’m not saying you can’t protect me,” you whispered. “i’m just asking… please, let me do what i can do to protect you, too.”

he didn’t respond. his hand found the back of your neck, and you both leaned your foreheads together. the bridge of your noses touched — which felt odd, but you found your heart swelling at the feeling. billy’s thumb was rubbing against the back of your neck, finding its way to tangle within the hairs.

“i never wanted you brought into something like this,” he admitted. “it’s my —“

“william bonney, don’t ever say something so untrue to me,” you whisper-hissed. “it’s not your fault — and you didn’t bring me into anything. there’s no fault there. however, i will fault you if you keep me at arm’s length on this. please… trust me.”

the hand on the back of your neck founds it way to your cheek where he began to stroke the skin with his thumb once more. you leaned into his touch, grateful for its warmth and comfort. you open your eyes slightly to find billy already gazing at the beauty in his lap. his baby blue eyes were a stunner to anyone and everyone, and somehow they always got the best of you.

“i’m just too selfish of a man to not give my pretty girl everything she wants,” he spoke in a raspy voice. “nothin’ could compare to how sweet those lips look when she smiles for me.”

the grin spread wide before you could help it, and you cast your eyes down to avoid the blush behind so obvious. billy bent his head down, trying to catch your gaze once more before you became too shy.

“oh, no, sweetheart — can’t take from me what i earned,” he coaxed. his thumb found the plumpest part of your bottom lip, and slightly pulled it down into a pout. “prettiest lips i’ve ever seen in the west.”

your lips encircled around the tip of his thumb and lightly sucked in the tip. your hair fell down around your shoulders and curled around your forward as the temperature in the room began to increase. you watched as billy’s eyes flicked back and forth between your beautiful eyes, and how your lips sucked him in.

“goin’ show me what those pretty lips can do f’me?” he asked, lips parted.

you nodded then, sliding off his lap and on the floor. the pair of you tugged on his bottoms and let them pool around his ankles. upright on your knees, billy gathered all of your hair on the crown of your and looked down at you proudly.

“such a good girl f’me,” he rasped, barely above a whisper. “let me see those pretty lips work.”

with a blush on your cheeks, you leaned forward towards his hips. your hand wrapped around the base of his thick cock as your soft lips tucked the tip of his cock into your mouth. billy could’ve screamed at how good it felt in there — warm, wet, and wild. filled his veins with whisky and sunshine and tobacco all at the same time and he didn’t know what to do with himself. bobbing your head slowly, taking more and more of him in, you watched the stress leave his body. billy’s eyes drifted closed as his lips remained parted. the tension in his shoulders had disappeared, leaving only a man with his head thrown back against the back of the chair.

“that’s it,” he spoke. “that’s my girl.”

words like that… oh, words like that… they could turn even a saint like you into a slut. mixed with the sultriness in his voice — the whining, the wanting, the needing — you didn’t know if you wanted him to cum or not. if he came, he’d feel better, sure — but to deny yourself this picture? the scene of your man, your lethal man, succumbing to even the smallest of touches? praising you? guiding you? there was nothing better, nor purer in the world to you than to be before him, on your knees, as his wife. the sight alone was enough to make you take him deeper.

“that’s right, baby — little bit more. show me what you can do,” he grunted. “makin’ me so proud. ah, fuck…”

his reactions were like treats — and who were you to deny yourself of something your husband was so willingly giving? he was melting in your hands before you, and there was nothing more you wanted than to make him feel good. spit ran down your puffy lips, your cheeks, and along your jaw. the feeling of the trail sent all of your senses on fire until the only thing you saw, touched, smelled, felt was billy. one of his heavy hands came to rest on the back of your head, guiding your bobbing motions.

“got me weak, darlin’.” his breathing was heavy, almost spent. “want you on the bed. need to fuck my good girl sweet and proper.”

you reluctantly retreated from him and stood up, huffing. he immediately caught wind of your disheartened expression as his brow furrowed.

“what’s the matter?”

you let your nightgown fall to the floor as you stood in front of billy, bare for only him to see. billy was shameless as his eyes raked up and down all of your delicious, beautiful curves that were only illuminated by candlelight. you weren't backing down, however, no — you stepped forward, leaving very little space between you. you could feel the tips of your perky nipples grazing against his cool skin and shock went up and down your body. with big, unrelenting eyes — you glared up at him.

“finally get my husband to relax and i get stopped when i’m being nice.” you were smiling, being coy — but there was an edge of truth to your voice.

he smiled knowingly, not missing a beat at your discontent. “i’ll show you nice, darlin’.”

he pushed you back against the bed and immediately crawled between your thighs. it was so hard to stay mad at billy when the warmth from his own body would spread up and down yours, bonding the both of you. he pushed your thighs back against your torso, hooking the backs of your knees in his elbows.

“think i’d waste a drop when those men were starin’ at my wife, today? my girl?” his long, thick fingers began playing with your folds. your breath hitched at the feeling, an immediate gush of slick collecting on the tips of his fingers. he swirled around your clit, pulling you into him and his attention. “almost fuckin' killed them, every last one. i’ll get you so round and full — no man will dare flirt with my girl ever again.”

your breaths were light and needy as his words drifted through the air, your eyes fluttering closed. talk of kids surprised you, but not the sentiment. being so free and wild to talk of such things drew a certain excitement out of you that you didn't know existed. your senses were on fire, and now they were focused on having his cock pump you full of him. his lips were by your ear, nibbling on the lobe — and it sent you fucking mad. “yes, billy, please — want your baby so bad.”

“that's right, sweetheart,” he groaned. “need my cock inside you now —“

billy immediately retreated his hands to grab his cock and stuff it inside of you. the preparation was only slight — making there be more friction than ease. you gasped at the slight pain, but immediately fell into billy’s kisses as his lips drew shapes on your cheek and jaw.

“take me just like that, darlin’,” he grunted. “always so good to me. so proud —“

every inch was something billy held over your held. its teasing and taunting were persistent at your entrance, prying at your mind and your bottom lip. he pulled in and out, shoving another inch in with every thrust. you were at his mercy, tucked below him. he had every ounce of your trust and you had every ounce of his — and you couldn't think of anything better than the most dangerous man in the west turning you into a fucking mess.

“you’re so deep, billy,” you whined. “never — felt so good —“

“mind already going soft on me, huh, sweetheart?” he spoke, rocking his hips back and forth. you could feel your pussy stretching around him, wave after wave of arousal coating his cock and sucking him in deeper. it craved him. it throbbed for him. it pulled him in until there was nothing left of him to give. with his balls sitting heavy at the bottom of your entrance, you let out a cry. billy could only laugh darkly in your ear before saying, “pussy wants me so bad — just beggin’ me to breed it. can't be mean now, can i?"

you threw your head back against the bed, neck stretching with it. your teeth dug into your bottom lip as your eyes screwed shut. your entire lower body was on fire with each of billy’s thrusts. the depth and strength of his hips caused his cock to bury itself inside you, threatening to never leave. it was pure, it was passionate — but it wasn’t enough. there was an itch and it needed to be scratched. you should've maybe asked, maybe you should've been embarrassed to want something so dirty, so naughty, so unladylike — but you didn't care. you couldn't care — so you tried something.

you grabbed the wrist he wasn’t using for balance, and brought it up to the upper half of your body. his thrusts didn’t stop, but he watched you warily — waiting for a sign to stop.

but one never came. you let his fingers ghost around the circumference of your throat, letting them rest there. when they didn’t immediately squeeze, you tightened them around your own throat. billy could feel the build of a moan in your vocal chords, and it sent of a shock of arousal right to his cock. his eyes went wide with shock, then dark with lust.

“dirty — fuckin’ —“

he immediately got the hint.

he squeezed the sides of your throat just enough, and held you down. your whines were pathetic — incoherent, pitiful, and downright crazy. the head of his cock was hitting some of the most sensitive parts buried deep inside you that only he could find — and the room was spinning. pictures on the wall, furniture, lamps — things before you all going hazy and doubling in quantity as the pleasure drove you up a fucking wall. he claimed every bit of your body, having you bent in the most vulnerable position you had ever been in and you gave in. you gave in to every push, pull, thrust — anything he offered. he was yours, and you were his, and there was nothing stopping the bond between you two. you let out a dirty, needful whine at the feeling of his claim around your throat and melted underneath his control.

“that’s how it’s goin’ be, huh, girl?” he spat against your cheek. “thought my wife was the sweetest — but she didn’t tell me she likes it dirty. can you cum like this, sweetheart? fucked like a whore, hand around your throat, from a wanted man?”

you could only nod pathetically. you were clinging to him for dear life, pushing off your orgasm for as long as possible. “just like that, billy. please — don’t stop. i’m so, so close…”

“can see those stars behind your eyes already,” he quipped, nipping at your neck. “my poor girl wants to cum so bad…”

you were nodding though your tears, trying your best to choke out words, sentences, pleas, anything — but nothing could encapsulate how billy had control over every inch of your body. every nerve ending stood at attention for the man before you, ready to give him anything he wanted.

“please, billy,” you sobbed through gritted teeth. “i want a baby. i want your baby!”

“gonna breed this pussy, fuck — !” his free hand immediately came down in between where your hips connected and began drawing the roughest circles on your clit. the friction should’ve hurt, but with your mind being so consumed in passion and lust — it filled every want and need. your body rose for him, keened for him, fucking sang for him — and it set him off. the animalistic side of man showed itself through the dark pupils of billy's eyes as lust began to cloud his mind. “that’s it, doll — everything i give you. jus’ like a good girl — take it all.”

your hands immediately left his body and slammed down onto the bed, grasping at the sheets. your hips then spasmed as your chest then fought against billy as it tried to raise off the bed — but billy held you down. as you sobbed, cried, whined — billy held you and supported you through it all as he swallowed every emotion you gave him. you were almost screaming — from the pleasure, from the intensity, from the overstimulation, but billy didn’t stop. he kept working your pathetic, puffy clit with his rough hand around your throat, speaking dirty and sweet nothings into your ear before he filled your pussy to the fucking brim.

his moans in your ear were strained as the veins in his balls tightened. his hips shot forward once, twice — before he slammed into you once more and held his hips there. rope after rope after rope of hot, sticky, white cum painted and melted into your gummy walls. all of billy’s muscles were pulled tight and taut as he fucked his cum inside of your sopping wet pussy.

“i’m so mean to this pussy, but she just can’t stop cummin’, can she?” he spat, grip still on your throat. “love when your walls throb around me… holding me in…”

billy only then pulled his hand away from your raw clit. you were shivering from the stimulation, already falling victim to the haze of an orgasm and exhaustion. with his hand still around your throat, he pressed a fat, wet kiss to the side of your face.

“can’t wait to make you a mama," he whispered. "but i like the process."

---

lmk what u think :) love u guys xo

-L

[sunshinesteviee]

fast asleep - s.h.

you and steve pull a prank on your little girl when she pretends to be asleep; based on a tiktok trend i've seen a few times hehe. dad!steve & mom!reader; 1.3k

Masterlist

Phoebe is sprawled across the couch, half in your lap, half in Steve’s. Your fingers stroke through her hair slowly, careful to not pull too hard on the delicate strands. Between that, and Steve’s hand on her calf, thumb stroking short lines over her skin, she’d fallen asleep halfway through The Little Mermaid. But now that the credits are rolling, you can tell she’s at least somewhat awake, pretending to be asleep so Steve will carry her to bed. Her eyes and lips twitch slightly, in the way they always do when kids pretend they’re sleeping. 

Steve will carry her to bed either way, but exchanging a look with him, you know he’s going to have a bit of fun with it. 

“Oh man. Looks like Bee is fast asleep! Missed half the movie, what a bummer. Guess I’ll have to carry her to bed if we can’t get her up,” he says, like he’s whispering, but still loud enough for Phoebe to hear. 

“Uh oh. Bee? Gotta get up, sweet girl,” you try, shaking her shoulder gently. The movement causes the corner of her mouth to curl ever so slightly, and you can tell she’s fighting hard to keep her eyes closed. 

“Bumblebee?” Steve asks, fingertips pressing into the sole of her foot lightly, just enough to tickle, “Wake up, Bee!” 

Though she refuses to open her eyes, a short, muffled giggle escapes her lips, pressed together tightly. Your eyes meet Steve’s over your daughter’s figure, and you both have to hold back your own laughter. She is absolutely everything. 

“Ya know,” Steve says after a moment, still barely above a whisper, “I heard that there’s one way to tell for sure whether or not a kid’s asleep.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, no idea where he’s going with this, but ready to play along, “What’s that?”

“Well, if you pick up their arm and it stays in the air, they’re actually asleep. But if it falls back down, they’re just faking it.”

“We should definitely try, just to make sure she’s not tricking us.”

“Definitely,” Steve repeats, nodding seriously as he pulls the frilly sock covering her tiny foot up her ankle. 

“Alright, let’s see if she’s asleep…” you trail off, taking Phoebe’s wrist in your hand, lifting it up above her head. 

Her hand is so small, just a fraction of the size of your hand. Your thumb rubs over the back of her hand in a soft circle once, twice. Sometimes you can’t believe that you made every single perfect part of the human stretched out across your laps. Making eye contact with Steve, he gives you a bright smile, and you know he’s thinking the same thing. 

Giving the tiny hand in yours a gentle squeeze, you finally let go of it. There’s a split second where Phoebe’s hand seems like it’s going to fall back into her lap, but it stays in the air. You can see the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, all too pleased with herself and what she thinks she’s getting away with. 

It takes everything in you to not burst out laughing loudly at the way her hand stays in the air, the way you can see her lips twitching again, fighting her own smile. Steve slaps a hand over his mouth, smothering the laugh that threatens to burst out of him, head turning to bury his face into a pillow nearby. You bite down on your bottom lip, stifling more giggles as you say, “Oh, she’s fast asleep. Totally knocked out, I can’t believe it.”

She totally thinks she’s tricked the two of you, even more so when Steve finally composes himself enough to chime in, “Guess I’ll have to carry her to bed, we can’t leave her down here when she’s asleep like this.” You know that was her goal the entire time, and this time, she can’t help the smile that breaks out on her face. Despite the smiling and giggling, you’re impressed that she hasn’t opened her eyes yet. 

You gently push her arm down, and then brush a strand of hair out of her face, leaning over her tiny body to press a kiss to her head, “Daddy’s gonna bring you to bed, Bee. Sweet dreams, sleepy girl.”

Untangling himself from the blankets and pile of limbs, Steve finally manages to get up from the couch. He reaches towards the ceiling in a stretch that pulls the hem of his shirt up his torso, yawning loudly. You can’t tell if the yawn is real, or if it’s just for show for your daughter. A wink is shot your way as he takes notice of your staring, leaning down to peck your lips softly. Then he turns to his daughter in your lap with an amused smile, shaking his head fondly. 

His hands sneak under her arms, and then, as if she weighs nothing, he hoists her off the couch and into the air. You’re pretty sure you hear a quiet giggle as he rearranges Phoebe against his chest, moving her head to rest on his shoulder, her legs around his waist, an arm under her butt to support her. He makes it look easy, though he pretends to groan at the effort, “Oof! My little girl isn’t so little anymore. Gotta carry her to bed while I still can… Be right back, honey.” He says the last part to you as he turns towards the stairs. 

He’s joking, mostly, though she is getting bigger and bigger every day. Enough that the thought of not being able to do this soon breaks his heart a little bit. So, he hums softly as he trudges up the stairs to Phoebe’s room, running a hand up and down her back as he goes. He’ll do this for as long as she lets him. 

Steve gets Phoebe into bed easily, having had four years of practice, and tucks her in carefully. She has yet to open her eyes as far as he can tell, and he’s genuinely impressed, though she does seem to finally be nodding off now that she’s in her bed, wrapped in her blankets. He moves one of her stuffed animals closer to her body and bends at the waist to kiss her head softly. It seems she’s really sleepy enough now to forget the charade, and a tiny, tired voice floats up from her pillow, “Nanite, Daddy. Lub you…” 

“Goodnight, Bee, sweet dreams, baby. I love you so much.”

With one more kiss to her head, Steve finally straightens and turns on the white noise machine by her bed before slipping out of her room. He leaves the door open just a crack, the way she likes it so a bit of light from the hall can seep in, and makes his way back to you. 

“Out like a light. For real this time,” he announces proudly as he stops in front of you on the couch. 

“You’re amazing. I can’t believe she fell for that! Think you can carry me up to bed, too?” you ask with a grin, holding your hands up towards him. Steve’s eyes narrow, as if you’ve just challenged him, even though you were totally kidding. 

“You know I can, do I need to prove it again?” he asks, a hand on his hip for a moment before he takes one of your hands and bends down towards you.

“No! I was just— I was kid— oof! Steve!” You know exactly what he’s planning to do and you start giggling nervously, but you can barely get a sentence out before he’s hauling you over his shoulder in one quick movement. He’s even stronger than he looks, and you know he’s not gonna drop you, despite the shriek you let out.

“Shhh!!” he laughs loudly as he makes his way to your bedroom, hands squeezing your legs just shy of meanly, “Bee just fell asleep!”

“Then put me down, Steve!” you huff, feigning irritation as you hit his back lightly, shying away from the door frame as he pushes your bedroom door open. “If you drop me, I’m gonna divorce y—“

You’re cut off again, this time as Steve drops you onto the bed. He does it carefully, only letting go of you when you’re a short distance from the mattress. He’s hovering over you in a second, a hand on hip and a ridiculously handsome smirk on his face, "What was that?"

"Shut up and kiss me, Harrington."

[crazyinlovewithbucky]

“My Aphrodite”

———————————

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky just came back from a 3 weeks mission and he’s never been hornier!!! this is just pure smut with Bucky being a total slut! + You are his goddess and he makes sure you know that.

Warnings: +18 smut, first-person perspective, the entire smut is from YOUR POV, breeding kink, mentions of goddesses and religion, praise kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, riding, a self-conscious reader (if u squint a bit), horny reader, and hornier bucky

A/N: hey babes, I wanna mention again that English is not my first language so excuse any misspellings or any mistakes. I’m trying my best hehe enjoy :*

———————————

“Fuck, doll you look so pretty when you’re fucked out like that,” Bucky said while he was thrusting in me so hard while he was hugging my legs as he’d placed them above his shoulder. My cunt was very sensitive with the overstimulation as I just coated his length with my cum. I can’t even remember how many times I came tonight. Bucky just came back from a 3 weeks mission and we promised each other we wouldn’t touch ourselves or do anything until we’re reunited again. It’s a silly pact I know but we wanted to have a very crazy over-the-moon sex when he gets back and now we’ve done nothing all day long except for fucking.

“I’m gonna cum bunny, I can’t take it anymore. Fuck” I gasped so hard as I felt his striking hot cum filling me. His cock slipped out from the fast thrusts and it shot his cum on my cunt and my lower stomach. Bucky was a moaning mess already. “You feel so good,” he said between breaths and locked eyes with me. “so fucked out too” he smiled and leaned down and kissed me so hard. he slipped his tongue in and I opened my mouth for him happily. We kept making out passionately and breaking out for seconds just to catch our breaths then continuing again. Kissing each other hungrily, like we would die if we didn’t. I would happily die in his arms and be filled with his cum.

I could feel his cock getting hard again as it was brushing on my thigh and my cunt was already wet and filled with our mixed cum. “I need you bucky,” I said softly between breaths. he lifted his head up and looked me in the eyes. “No bunny, I’m the one who needs you,” he said as he kissed me again.

He got up and was standing now on the foot of the bed, his gaze darkened a bit as his eyes traveled all over my body. I was completely naked with my legs spread out a bit, my cunt was on full display in front of him and I could feel the wetness and mixed cum dripping from it. My hair was a mess, and my stomach and breast were full of love bites and teeth marks from our rough sex two rounds ago. I bit my lip as my gaze went to his length. It was really hard and his head was very red and wide. I remember our first time when I was really paranoid it wouldn’t fit, and my first scream when he bottomed out inside of me for the first time, my cunt was stretching and clenching around his length. No man ever fit me or filled me like Bucky. He was -and is- the perfect fit for me.

I pressed my thighs together for any kind of friction as after a whole day of fucking around, I still wanted him more than ever. he bit his lips at the sight of me pressing my thighs together. He held my ankles and opened my legs widely. His eyes traveled up until they met my eyes. “Have I ever told you that you are a fucking goddess?” his tone was very serious and low. I shook my head slightly as a smile painted my lips. “you are a goddess. a fucking sex icon. a Mona Lisa. a queen” he laid on me again and pushed his cock slowly inside me. Soft moans escaped my lips as I was adjusting to his length again. “Fuck bunny, I don’t know how you are still so tight for me after the day we had. Thought your pussy would be stretched out by now” he groaned while looking at where our bodies are connected and thrusting in and out slowly. I couldn’t stop moaning and I felt a very hot wave striking my body. all I feel is just pure lust. I need him. I need him to keep fucking me. I need his cock to stretch me out. I just need him.

He suddenly stopped thrusting but he was still buried inside me. I didn’t notice that he was staring at me while my head was pulled back on the pillow and my eyes were closed and nothing but moans and soft whispers of his name flying out of my mouth. His eyes were full of something that I couldn’t put my head around it. It’s my first time seeing this look in Bucky’s eyes. First time seeing a man looking at me like this and I can’t even understand the look. I got nervous suddenly and I asked “What’s wrong?” He smiled softly and brushed my hair out of my face and kissed my lips.

“Y/N, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I could seriously worship you” he chuckled and kissed my left cheek as I’m sure now it’s burning red. “you are my goddess. I literally worship you. can’t believe I got so lucky to have an actual goddess underneath me” his lips now moving to my neck and he’s nipping on my sweet spot. “are you my goddess, Y/N?” he lifted his head up and his eyes met mine. “answer me, babe. Are you my goddess?” I nodded and licked my lips as I’m feeling my cunt getting wetter by his praise.

Suddenly, he flipped us over and now I’m on top of him, he held my waist tightly to not let his cock slide out of me and he pulled me down until he was fully in me again. He breathed heavily and looked at me all over again. “Then show me. make me believe in you, goddess. make me believe you are my goddess. Fuck me into believing in you. Fuck me into your religion” His words are making me go crazy that I just couldn’t move. I was literally stunned. No one ever talked to me like this before or even loved me like this before. I’m feeling like I’m in a dream now or I am high. Can’t believe this is actually a reality and Bucky Barnes, the winter solider, the fucking white wolf, is buried deep inside me and saying these sweet words to me. I feel like I’m going to cum just by listening to his words.

“Come on doll, show me your love and admiration. Show me your powers, my goddess. Only you can make me this horny and my cock never calm near you. Only a fucking sex goddess can do that, my Aphrodite” his grip on my waist hardened as he’s now moving my hips and waist back and forth, grinding me on his dick. the friction and movement got us both moaning loud. He kept moving me faster on his cock and I started to pick up the pace and grinding more back and forth. I love how he keeps praising me and telling me I’m his goddess while fucking me now like a sex doll whose just here to please him.

While grinding and moving back and forth on him I started to ride him slowly, moving up and down. Bucky moaned the sluttiest and dirtiest moan I’ve ever heard from him. His eyes shut and he pulled his head back on the pillow and pushed it down. His hands tightened on my hips as my pace started to go faster and now I’m fully jumping on his cock while grinding my hips harder. His moans and screams are as loud as mine are too. “Fuuuuuuuccckkkkk” he growled so loudly and tightened his grip more on my hips, I felt like his hands are going to pierce my skin and leave a permanent mark. I felt his cock twitching so hard inside me and hitting my g spot repeatedly. “Oh, dear goddess-ss - I’m cu-mm FUUUUUCKKK” he screamed loudly as he shot his hot liquid inside me, hitting my cervix and g spot, making me fall off the edge and that tight in my stomach to burst. As much as I was shaking rapidly and can’t breathe but I couldn’t stop jumping on him and continuing fucking myself on his cock.

Bucky started shaking like me from the overstimulation and couldn’t catch his breath too. “Yes goddess, let my cum stick inside you. let me bless your heavenly womb with my babies. we could have the most perfect demigods.” he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer to him and now our chests are pressed together. “Let me plant my seed inside you, Aphrodite. I bet you’d look so good pregnant with my babies inside you. not to mention, you’d look so fuckable too” he said as his hands slid down to my butt and now he was holding me and moving me on his cock. It feels so good that we can’t even stop. I closed my eyes and buried my head in his neck, I really can’t control my moans or my need for him anymore. “Yeah doll, give me one more orgasm. I know you want to. Give me one more. Don’t fight it” He knew what I needed and he knew my body. Bucky always put my pleasure first and we’ve been together for so long that he really knows what I need and what my body needs. the feeling of needing to feel the heat and pleasure of cumming around his thick hard cock was consuming me and I needed to let go again.

“Fuck baby, I’m going to cum again,” he said groaning and holding my butt so tight while moving me faster on his cock. the sound of my sloppy pussy and his cock fucking in and out of it was deafening as much as our moans. I don’t know what we ate or drank or smoked that made us this horny and needy today or maybe it’s just our love and lust for each other or maybe it’s just we have so much chemistry in sex that we and our bodies just know how to satisfy and please each other. I don’t care what it is but it’s addicting and I don’t wanna stop. never.

I can feel that knot tightening again as I let go with nothing but screams and moans slipping out of my mouth. Bucky followed my screams with groans as he burst again into my cunt. This time we stopped our movements. He was still buried inside me and I was still on top but I didn’t lay on top of him as I gave myself and him some space to catch our breaths. My upper body lay on the bed very close to him as he was laying on his back, eyes shut, chest going up and down breathing heavily. I was laying on my side facing him, staring at how perfect he looked with his hair messed up and sweat on his forehead shining. He opened his eyes and looked at me. We kept staring at each other deeply as we both smiled.

“After that Barnes, you should build me a fucking temple” I giggled and he laughed at my words. “The least I can do for my goddess” he pulled himself closer to me and moved on top. Still having his cock inside me. He kissed me deeply then pulled away and locked eyes with me again. “Congratulations, Aphrodite. I’m now a believer of yours. Could you accept me as your humble servant?” I giggled and nodded. We kissed again then he pulled out slowly, trying not to trigger any other nerve. I stood up and moved to the bathroom. “Hey, where are you going?” he pushed me back again to the bed. “I’m not finished with you yet” he kissed my neck from behind and wrapped his arms around me again.

“Oh my god Bucky, you are becoming a real sex addict now,” I said jokingly with a serious tone. He laughed and held my chin with his hand, turning my head around to face him. “If Jesus himself saw you, I’m sure he’d become a sex addict too” he grinned and then chuckled at how shy I got. This man surely knows how to flirt as much as how to fuck. “As much as I am flattered but I need to use the bathroom” I giggled and jumped out of the bed quickly and ran to the bathroom. I can hear him clearly running behind me like a fucking predator about to catch his prey. I got into the bathroom fast and was about to close the door but he was faster and smashed it open. “BUCKY OH MY GOD” I screamed and laughed at how crazy he looked right now.

“You are not getting anywhere without me, my Aphrodite” he had this devilish smirk on his face as he moved closer. He pulled me up by my thighs and wrapped my legs around his waist. We held very intimidating eye contact for a while until I felt a splash of hot water hitting my skin. I hadn’t noticed that he moved us to the tub and opened the shower. “Ready for some shower sex rounds, doll?” he said against my lips as he pushed his tongue inside my mouth. This is going to be a very very long night.

[raitonsfw]

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: | 1 | The deep dark of your cavern didn't diminish the glow of Muzan's reddened eyes as they peered at yours– tentacles expelling out towards your own and suddenly, you didn't want him to leave you ever again. | 2 | Not to touch... as you bowed down with your head resting against the floor, you begged for Muzan's cock– only to be given it and more; a slicked encounter with his shapeshifting.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, he's called the title lord muzan... | 1 | cecaelia!reader, fem!reader, tentacles, handjob, blowjob, head pushing, breast play, pining, alludes to casual fucking, muzan shapeshifting (he sprouts tentacles out of his back that have mouth suctions with teeth on them) | 2 | dom!muzan, gn!reader, male!muzan & female!muzan (he switches his sex halfway through, pronouns still stay the same though), mentions of being used and being a fucktoy, begging & pleading, worship, face fucking, face riding, dirty talk, praises, rule #1- don't touch lord muzan.

a/n: | 1 | i do hope this is up to cecaelia!reader standards! i did some research to adhere to the accuracy of anatomy but i fear it wasn't enough. | 2 | hehe i kept repeating in my head 'boy pussy' while writing this for some reason? i wonder why... v-day list | m.list

thirst count: 1

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

| 1 |

“What do we have here?” The cave was dark, no light penetrating it towards the edge of it and you cowered within the spaces beneath the wall of the water. Who was in your domain, seeking solitude? No one knew about this place other than one person, so that must mean–

“I can sense you, Y/N.” He said, his voice low– teasing you out of your hiding place. You peeked your head out abruptly to see Muzan, tall of stature and you sighed as you heaved yourself up on the rock of the hole. 

“Don’t go scaring me like that.” You huffed out, sinking your tentacles down into the water again pitifully. “I couldn’t recognize your voice. Is that a new form, Lord Muzan?”

“Yes, and?” Muzan’s eyes pierced yours, lustrous and rimmed with crimson– it made your quake in fear and in anticipation. He’d visit you for a few things naturally, talks of the Twelve Kizuki running rampant and other idiocies of his life but the one thing he always craved was you. And as you watched him transform– expel his arms out to counter your own tentacles– you knew you were in for a treat.

“Did you miss me?” He smirked sharply, his whips forming against the flesh of his skin and you felt heat rush through each and every one one of yours. God, it’s been a while hasn’t it? 

“What do you think?” You pouted, one of your tentacles circling his ankle. You pulled him closer to the edge of the water cave, insisting he sit as another slipped into his pants. “Don’t wanna waste any time– before you leave me again.” 

“I’m not done the transformation yet, Y/N.” Muzan groaned as you wrapped around his cock, sprouting three more whips from his back. One instantly wrapped around your neck, the teeth grazing your collarbone and you let out a quiet sob of relief as it sucked marks into your skin. As he sat down against the edge, the water lapping up towards the front of his trousers, you smiled at him with a mischievous glint. 

You made it a point to delicately slide your tentacle up his cock, careful not to go too far as his own trailed down your own body. Fire fueled within your core as he let out another quiet moan, his eyes breaking off of yours and fluttering shut. You could feel his tentacles on you spasm lightly as you pumped him slowly, leaning in towards to cleave off some of his clothing. 

But you were met with a sharp tongue. “Not today, it’s just a quick visit.” 

You sighed to yourself, your tentacles pulling from him as you dove back into the water. Instead, you took to his legs, wading in front of them and you pulled out his cock to sink your mouth onto it. Two of your tentacles wrapped around his thighs, spreading them apart so you can lean in easier and he looked so good like that– so pliant underneath your suctions as you licked up the underside of his cock. 

A shaky groan fell from his lips, his tentacles shooting down towards your shoulders and you whimpered around him as they roamed over your chest. They squeezed around your breasts rather harshly as his cock twitched in your mouth, his hand threading through your hair. 

“C’mon, I know you can do better than that…” You heard him from above you and he pushed you down roughly, his tentacles suctioning against your nipples and you whined again– pleasure welding up your spine and you opened your throat a little to take him as deep as he wanted. 

He came down your throat with a shudder, all of his tentacles latching onto you with a heavy gasp. When you pulled off, they were gone and he was starting to withdraw from the edge of the stone. 

“Leaving so soon?” You pouted, but his eyes flashed towards yours with menace but a small ‘thank you’ etched his lips. You weren’t sure if he said it outloud for your entire vision was clouded with the pure lust he instilled in you.

| 2 |

“You want me? Get on the floor and beg.” Muzan’s voice dripped like red wine, straight down your throat and your own voice went dry; you were barely able to nod as you dropped to your knees and mewled at his feet. Your hands nearly caressed the ends of his trousers, reveling in the way his foot kicked out towards you, signifying you to heed– not to touch.

“Lord Muzan…please–”

“Head too.” He tutted, his finger pointing downwards and you struggled to put two and two together as your head bowed down near your hands on the floor. 

“P-Please… need you so bad, can’t stop thinking about you fucking me– about you using me.. I–” You blurted out, a soft cry evading your voice as you spit out the words. You felt Muzan’s eyes boring into the back of your skull and you hoped your begs were deemed worthy.

You felt him stand up in front of you and you felt like you wanted to cower in your skin, the domineering presence holding you hostage as a soft command fell from his lips, “Look up for me.” 

As you glanced up, you were met with his cock. And God, did your mouth water… Just the sheer size of it made you drool as he lightly pressed it against your cheek when you sat up in front of him. You wanted so desperately for him to just shove it in and take what he wanted from you– the longing ache for him capturing you whole as you waited for his next command. 

“Go on. I’m allowing you.” Muzan said, guiding his cock inside your mouth and you sunk down greedily. Immediately lapping your tongue around it, you hollowed your cheeks and then stilled on him. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you waited yet again. You didn’t want to push too far, it was only his will and his only– you were nothing but a fucktoy at the moment. 

“Ah yes, so pretty for me.” He cooed, albeit fakely as his talons for nails practically clawed within your hair– against your scalp, earning a wanton moan from you. He snapped his hips against your mouth, a deep groan drawing from him as his cock dragged along your tongue. You dared not to grab at his waist for leverage, instead keeping your hands against your lap as he fucked your mouth harshly. You felt the spit gathering against the corners of your lips, all over his cock and you closed your eyes in bliss. 

Muzan lazily spun his words now, drunk off of your lush mouth. “Obedient today, are we?” 

You could tell he was nearing his orgasm and you eagerly waited for his cum– the near golden seed that made your head spin with lust. But before you knew what was happening,  you were flung off of him onto your back.

You tried to get up from the floor, your elbows coming to rest against it but warmth covered your mouth and it took you a minute to register that Muzan had sat himself against you. Only it wasn’t his dick that pressed against your lips, but his cunt and everything came together within a second. 

He fucking switched to his female form.

Your hair had been grasped within the confines of his palm as he started to roll his hips against your mouth and you darted your tongue out to lick at his clit. You stared up at him, his kimono falling against his tiny shoulders and you couldn’t keep your eyes off his breasts bouncing within the fabric– his head thrown back in pure pleasure with moans leaking out from his reddened lips. 

Muzan tasted sweet against your tongue, his entrance nearly squeezing the life out of it as he came from your laving. You couldn’t help but savor each and every drop as it painted you preciously, sitting heavily on the base of your tongue and you licked him clean. You could feel his pants wracking his body above you and you swore to yourself again– not to touch.

Touching him got you punished and you wanted more treats like this.

[gallaghersgal]

i am here for some kev since i got the honour of being shipped with him hehe

mutual pining trope + ❛ you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me. ❜

and maybe cus i got to be shipped w him... plus size reader????

ilysm pookie bear can't wait to read this <3 -🐁

kev fucks plus size girls,, say it a lil louder for the ppl in the back nsfw 18+. plus size!reader, gn but afab, some slapping (thigh), oral, rough sex, lots of praise & dirty talk, mentions of self conscious reader

mutual pining + "you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me." from these fanfic tropes and these smut prompts. part of my 1,500 follower celebration!

after a particularly hard day in terms of self confidence you found yourself in the apartment above the alibi room, well past last call. the bar had been closed for an hour now, and consequently that was the same amount of time kev has spent worshipping your body. you're sent careening into a second orgasm on his tongue, thighs squeezing his head while he pulls away slightly to mumble, "fuckin' squeeze me, yeah, tha's it."

you whimper, fingers threading in his hair and tugging until he draws away from your sensitive core. wet lips trail kisses over the softness of your stomach and up to your chest, closing around a nipple and pulling a needy whine from you. "need you inside, please," you manage, nails leaving angry red marks down his back as he grinds his cock through your folds.

"mmm, beautiful," he groans, lining himself up with your entrance. he starts to slide the tip in but stops when he notices your arms reaching to cover your stomach, feeling like too much of yourself is on display. one large hand gathers both of your wrists, lifting them above your head as he growls, "cut that out, let me see you. wanna watch how you move when i fuck you, m'kay?"

you avoid his eyes, your cheeks and neck flushing under the intensity of his gaze. he lets go of your wrists to take your chin between his fingers, drawing your visage up to meet him. "y'can use your hands, as long as y're not covering' y'self up, got it?"

"y-yeah, okay," you whimper, nodding weakly. you've wanted this forever now, so you're not going to risk fucking it up. you throw one arm around kevin's shoulders, pressing your hips up until he finally sinks into you fully. the moan that escapes you is downright pornographic, leaving the man above you with a smirk on his lips. "ffuuuuck," you drawl as he starts to fuck you rough.

"you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me, aren't you?" he grunts between hard thrusts. his hazel eyes are locked in on the way your tits bounce in response to his rough motions. his lips come to your ear as one hand grabs your ankle to push it up by your chest. "love that i can fuck you rough, know you won't break. y'can take it, huh? been waitin' so long to have you like this. so beautiful," he whispers between nips at the space below your ear. "fuckin' say it. say y're beautiful, that y're made f'me."

all you can do is whine, too lost in the rhythmic motion of his cock hitting so fucking deep inside you. little 'ah, ah, ah' noises spill from your lips, fingers reaching out to push back the hair that sticks to his forehead with sweat. suddenly his hips still, buried to the hilt, and he lands a sharp slap to the underside of your thigh. "i said say it," he growls, and you don't need to be told twice.

"i-i'm beautiful. i was made for you," you choke out. at your words he starts moving again, lips mushing to yours in a sloppy kiss.

"yeah you were," he mumbles against your mouth. "pussy's all mine, gonna ruin it for anyone else. gonna ruin you."

[cegantheayugipi]

That Time I got Boba Boarded by the Yashiro Commissioner (Ayato x reader)

An Ayato x reader enemies to lovers smut oneshot

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: As a prominent figure in Inazuma, Kamisato Ayato has lived through many assassination attempts. When yours fails miserably and you end up being captured, your interrogation ends far differently from the previous ones Ayato had conducted.

Warnings: MINORS PLEASE DNI AS THIS IS A SMUT!!

Tags include: gratuitous smut, sex toys, bondage/mild BDSM, voyeurism, master/servant dynamics, use of boba during sex (hehe)

You were just waking up from a really, really good nap. As a matter of fact, you felt like it might have been the best sleep of your life. You groaned as you began to stretch out your limbs, only to realize that they were somehow restricted. You opened your eyes – but all you could see were faint specks of light through the weave of a dark fabric that covered them. Twisting your body slightly, you realized you were tied to a chair, your wrists and ankles bound to the furniture by some sort of rope.

“You’re finally awake…good.”

A voice echoed through the room, and although you couldn’t tell which direction it came from, you could immediately tell who it was.

The damn Yashiro commissioner, Kamisato Ayato.

“W-where have you taken me?” You shouted, your voice hoarse from disuse while being unconscious.

“Oh, my.” He mused, and the sound of footsteps scuffling across the ground told you he was approaching where you were sitting blindfolded and tied up. “You seem to misunderstand that you’re not in the position to be asking questions here.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized where exactly you had found yourself – tied up, in an unknown location, at the mercy of the man you had been sent to kill.

~~~

Thinking back, you cursed the ones who sent you on such an absurd mission.

‘This will be easy.’

‘Look for the white robes and the blue hair.’

‘Reel him in, and go for the kill.’

You had been sent to assassinate one of the most prominent figures in Inazuma. They didn’t care how you did it – they just knew you were particularly effective amongst young men. With what little information you had been given and what was public knowledge about the Yashiro Commissioner, you went into this mission confidently…too confidently.

Most of the Commissioners, while intelligent, had little fighting prowess; you didn’t anticipate that the Yashiro Commissioner actually had the strength to back up his title. Usually the people you were tasked with sending to the devil were weak, stupid, or both. You could easily cozy up to them, flirt with them, then take their life before they could even realize what you were doing. Thus, the last thing you expected was to be outsmarted at your own game… 

~~~

“Here’s how things are going to work.” Kamisato Ayato spoke curtly, his tone sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re going to tell me who sent you, and I’ll see if I’m in a forgiving mood. If your information proves useful enough, I’ll be merciful and hand you over to the Tenryou Commission for punishment.”

A shiver went down your spine. Was the Tenryou Commission seen as merciful? You knew if you were handed over to them with the crime you were caught trying to commit, you would never see the light of day again.

“W-wait, I-”

“I’m going to ask you a question.” Ayato cuts you off, unwilling to let you contest anything. However, he paused and you heard a slurping sound…it sounded like he was drinking something through a straw. You tilted your head, confused why he would be taking a break from an interrogation to drink.

The slurping ended, and Ayato let out a sigh before finally continuing.

“Who do you work for?”

“I-I don’t know.” You stuttered, trying to answer as quickly as you could. “I just get sent the request through a third party and then I pick up the payment from a random location when I’m done but I don’t even do this a lot I just go for young men who are easy to seduce- ”

“Oh?” Ayato cut you off, and you could feel something press against the underside of your chin. He was using one hand to tilt your head upwards to face him, although all you could see through the blindfold was a shadow. “So you make a habit out of killing the men you fuck?”

“N-no, I mean…” You trailed off, realizing the Yashiro Commissioner was right. You’ve never slept with someone who you hadn’t later killed. And although you couldn’t see it, Ayato was smirking.

You heard a low rumble come from him – was he…laughing? Little did you know, your reaction to his question told him everything. Ayato was laughing at how pathetic you really were. You weren’t a sword for hire, you were a whore with a blade.

Ayato’s demeanor immediately became serious again.

“You’re going to tell me the names of everyone you work with.” He continued to question you.

“I-I don’t know any names-”

The finger on your chin transformed into a painfully tight grip as Ayato grabbed your jaw with one hand and tilted your head up until you were facing the ceiling. You tried to wrench your head away, but he was simply too strong. Your entire body was shocked as you felt something ice-cold pour over your face and down your nose, forcing you to cough and sputter as you tasted something sweet and syrupy in the back of your throat.

Ayato’s hand moved again, wrenching your mouth open to force whatever sweet drink this was down your throat. That was when you could feel soft pillowy pearls in your mouth, and you realized the Yashiro Commissioner was drinking fucking boba.

You sputtered and coughed as you choked on his drink, unable to close your mouth as you writhed beneath his iron grip. Ayato began to smile as he watched you choke on the boba pearls; Despite what he would say to anyone witnessing such an act, he appeared to be getting personal pleasure from this.

Even after he finished pouring the sweet drink all over your face, you continued to choke on the boba pearls. You tried to swallow them while simultaneously trying to get the milk tea out of your nose. Shuddering, you finally were able to breathe and speak properly.

“Fuck you, Kamisato Ayato!”

The blue-haired Yashiro Commissioner merely smirked.

“Is that a challenge?” Ayato quipped, and your eyes went wide beneath the blindfold.

Despite the situation, you somehow began to feel turned on. There was a heat that grew between your legs, and you wished your knees weren’t tied apart like this so you could at least rub your thighs together. It was strangely hot being tied up and blindfolded like this by one of Inazuma’s hottest men.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” You growled, ignoring the desire that began to build in your stomach.

“You’ve already failed once.” Ayato mused, “What makes you think you’ll ever succeed?”

You could feel a finger trail its way from your chin to down your neck and your sternum. It brushed across your chest, landing on one nipple. You let out an audible gasp as you realized nothing was between the finger and your sensitive skin.

“Where are my clothes?!” You exclaimed, alarmed yet somehow even more turned on. You felt the finger on your nipple turn into a painful pinch as Ayato rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ngh~!” Your pained whine came out far too much like a moan.

While the first hand was fixated on one breast, a second one came to land at the center of your stomach. It began to trail lower and lower, reaching your sensitive nether region, one finger running between your lips and picking up some of the slick that had started to pool between your thighs. Your cunt clenched at the realization you were wearing nothing down there either, and your drooling pussy had been on display for Ayato this whole time.

“Just as I expected.” Ayato chuckled. “You really are more like a whore for hire than an assassin. So turned on, and all I did was tie you up for questioning.”

Ayato’s wet fingers reached your mouth, and you didn’t bother to fight back. You willingly accepted his fingers as they pushed past your lips, and you swirled your tongue around them. The taste of the salty musk of your arousal mixed with traces of the sweet milky tea from the boba he had just poured into your mouth, making it feel like you were eating a dessert rather than eating your own cum.

When he finally withdrew his fingers from your mouth, you were out of breath. You panted as you tried to calm down the arousal that was making your pussy drool like nothing else.

“As much as I would like to play with you some more, I still have questions that need answering.” Ayato spoke sternly. Both hands left your body, and you had to suppress the whine of protest that threatened to escape your lips. “Although, I believe we can still have some fun while getting answers from you.”

“Huh?” You asked, confused and nervous about what he was saying. Interrogation usually meant torture. Was he really going to torture you and enjoy it?

That was when you felt something cold and smooth press against your lower lips. The arousal that had gathered there allowed it to slip into you easily, slowly parting your tender lips and entering your folds.

You let out a whine, attempting to push your hips towards whatever it was, but you seemed to be tied up in such a way that your entire body had little to no freedom to move.

As Ayato pushed the small ceramic egg into you, he watched as you writhed with pleasure. He smirked – once the egg was all the way inside of you, he pressed a button on a remote control and the egg began to vibrate loudly.

“Aaah~!” You moaned, your cunt clenching around the egg. It was wide enough to stretch you a little, but not long enough to completely fill you, leaving your entrance quivering and wanting more.

Then, you were surprised again as a blue glow began to fill the room. You could barely see it through your blindfold, so you knew something was coming, but you were still completely caught off guard as you felt something warm, wet, and slippery slide across your breasts.

“Wh-what is that?!” You whined, your voice shaking.

“It’s some technology from Fontaine. A vibrating egg that can be controlled remotely.” Ayato explained bluntly. You could feel the slimy tendrils slip around one breast, squeezing and pulling at one nipple. 

“N-no, what’s that?” You panted, beginning to feel far too turned on for your own good.

“Ah.” Ayato nodded, although you couldn’t see it. “Some people have been granted elemental visions. Mine, as you surely know, grants me the gift of Hydro.”

Ayato paused, and you could feel a second tendril tighten around your other breast.

“And as I am certain you know, the power of water is its ability to take any shape.”

You gasped as you felt a third one slide down your lower stomach, reaching your clit. It tightened around your sensitive nib, rubbing and pulling at it, forcing gasps and moans out of you. 

Knowing this was completely controlled by Ayato was almost enough to make you orgasm on the spot. The pressure was building and building, and your growing moans and quivering entrance told Ayato exactly what was happening.

The tendrils rubbing at your clit and nipples combined with the vibration deep within your pussy was far too much, sending you on a straight path over the edge of an orgasm, but Ayato didn’t want that.

Just as you thought you might finally cum, all movement stopped. The egg no longer vibrated and the Hydro tentacles fell so still you thought they must not even be there anymore. Your encroaching climax immediately faded away, your body shuddering at the loss of orgasm.

“No!” You exclaimed, struggling against your binds. “Why did you stop?”

“I want names.” Ayato spoke coldly.

“I-I told you, I don’t know anyone’s names! They keep me in the dark about that kind of stuff!”

“You’re going to give me names. Details. Descriptions.” Ayato continued. With a click, the egg came roaring back to life, the vibrations far stronger than before. The tendrils of Hydro snapped around your nipples and clit, pulling and dragging fiercely against your sensitive buds.

A scream left your lips – too fast, too fast.

Your climax returned faster than ever, building and building until-

As fast as the motions had started, they fell still once again. You let out a cry as once again, an orgasm was cruelly stolen from you.

“Please, please I’ll tell you everything!” You blubbered, straining against the binds that tied you to the chair.

“Go on.” Ayato spoke flatly.

“T-they send me a letter to my house with a request and the bounty value. Once I’m done, and word gets out that the target is dead, they send me a second one with a location where I’ll find the payment. It’s a different place each time, but I remember all of them so I can show you-”

“Not good enough.” Ayato cut you off. With a click, everything sprung to life again, just as aggressively as before.

Once again, you let out a shrill scream. Your eyes rolled back in your head as your orgasm approached even faster this time.

And once again, right at the precipice, your climax was stolen from you as everything fell still.

“No, no, no!” You cried, tears beginning to run down your face at the third orgasm stolen from you. 

You were desperate for pleasure. You were desperate to be filled, to be fucked, to be bred. This was unbearable. You wished Ayato would just fuck you. Abuse you with his dick. Use you. Even if you were just going to be discarded afterwards, you craved him so badly. 

“Tell me everything.” Ayato spoke lowly, eyeing the wetness that dripped from your blindfold.

“Please, Master Ayato I want your cock-”

A sharp strike across your face stunned you – but also turned you on. Your pussy clenched around the egg, although the device from Fontaine wasn’t moving anymore.

Ayato had slapped you, and it only turned you on even more.

“That wasn’t what I meant.” Ayato spoke coolly. “But if that’s really all you have left to say, you have to beg.”

You didn’t have any time to respond – the egg sprung back to life on full blast, the tendrils of Hydro tightening around your clit and nipples once again. You wailed, feeling your orgasm build and build once again, knowing it would all be rudely taken from you again.

Mere seconds later, everything slowed to a crawl. The egg was barely vibrating, and the Hydro tentacles massaged you delicately. You whined at the reduction in motion, but this was better than a complete loss of pleasure.

“I said beg.” Another sharp slap across your face brought you back to reality.

“M-master Ayato, I swear I’ll be good. I’ll please you so good. Just give me your cock, I want it so bad. I need it so bad.” You squirmed in your seat, blubbering, fat tears rolling down your face.

“Then prove it.”

With a sharp yank, your chair was tipped forward, until it reached an angle where your head was surely at waist-height. You didn’t know who was holding the chair – Ayato, the Hydro tentacles, or someone else – all thoughts left your body as the warm and soft tip of Ayato’s dick was pressed against your lips.

You opened your mouth, welcoming him in, and Ayato buried himself until your nose was pressed against the hair of his lower stomach. Your throat convulsed as you choked around his cock, the tip pressing painfully against the back of your throat. You began to shed tears as your throat constricted around his girth, unable to escape as Ayato dug both hands into your hair to keep your head pressed firmly at the base of his length.

Ayato savored the choking noises you were making; he loved the way your throat bulged as it took in all of him. He reached over and pulled your blindfold off, wanting to see the tears you would cry when he fucked your throat.

You blinked as the room suddenly became far too bright, your senses flooded as you glanced upwards to see a wall of toned stomach. At the top, the Yashiro Commissioner smirked down at you, his gaze almost sadistic.

Ayato finally began to move, setting a brutal pace. You wailed as your throat was abused over and over, but he didn’t seem to care at all as you choked and gagged painfully. Tears began to roll down your cheeks that you couldn’t help. Amidst his punishing thrusts, you glanced upwards again, realizing that Ayato was now grinning down at you. He was reveling in your pain. 

And why did that only turn you on even more?

Your pussy clenched around the softly buzzing egg, and you realized you might actually finally orgasm from this.

Your cries began to turn into moans, mixing with your choking and gagging that reverberated against Ayato’s cock, seeming to milk his climax from him.

You were so close, so close to orgasm when Ayato pulled himself out of your mouth. You paused, wondering why he stopped so suddenly, when hot and sticky ropes of cum sprayed over your face and chest. You blinked, some of the cum managing to land in your eyelashes, then looked down to see your chest coated in white. That was when you realized your binds weren’t normal ropes or chains… They were neatly tied red ropes that cut across your body in seductive patterns, and you realized Ayato had tied you up in shibari from the beginning.

You looked up, seeing a drop of cum fall from the blushing tip of Ayato’s cock, staring at the beautiful colors and curves of his throbbing member.

All of these thoughts distracted you from your orgasm that ebbed away, and you realized a fifth one had been stolen from you. This was beginning to drive you insane. 

“Master Ayato-” Your whines were cut short as you watched a glowing translucent tentacle slip down your stomach towards your drooling cunt. It pressed into you, exploring your sensitive walls, wrapping around and withdrawing the egg that was now completely dripping with your own wetness.

As soon as the egg was removed, Ayato’s hands worked quickly, uprighting the chair and changing the binds around your hips to slide them forwards towards the edge of the chair. 

Once this was finished, he immediately lined up his cock with your entrance and buried himself inside you with no hesitation. Your pussy took him in readily thanks to the endless teasing it had received over the past hour. Still, the sudden intrusion stretched you, balancing a fine line between pleasure and pain. You felt so filled up, so stretched, your eyes rolled back in your head as you moaned.

“Ahhhhnn, so good~!” You cried, even though Ayato hadn’t started moving yet. You looked up at the Yashiro Commissioner’s face and saw a smirk begin to grow.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. You sure love being treated like this.” Ayato grinned menacingly, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to be fucked.

His thrusts started out even harder than before – that was when you realized he had been holding back when fucking your throat. His hips snapped against your ass, giving no thought or care that he was going to leave bruises. You wanted to arch your back, spread your legs, give him greater access to your core, but these bindings left you fixed where you sat. Yet somehow, the concept of being tied down in one place only turned you on further, your wetness making squelching noises as he pummelled into you over and over. He didn’t seem to care at all that he was shaking you so violently with each thrust that the chair was already beginning to bruise your skin where you made the most contact with it – your back, shoulders, and the plush of your ass.

Your moans came out garbled, unable to make words as Ayato fucked you silly. He didn’t seem to show any sign of stopping as you were sent careening over the edge of an orgasm, screaming as your cunt clenched around his cock. Despite how much you were squeezing him, Ayato continued, intending to fuck you through all of your orgasms until he was done with you. You had finally reached your release, but the way Ayato continued to move told you that this was nowhere near finished. 

He enjoyed being slightly sadistic – he enjoyed teasing and hurting his partner until they couldn’t distinguish between pleasure and pain anymore – but that was nothing compared to what he was experiencing with you. He had never had someone who tried to kill him reduced to the point where they were begging him to fuck them. He wanted to ruin you, to watch you become a slave to his cock.

So now he intended to fuck you until he couldn’t continue anymore.

Ayato could feel another orgasm building up just thinking about how much you had begged for this – his thrusts, however, remained just the same as before, intending to punish you with his rhythm. When Ayato knew his orgasm couldn’t be held back anymore, he pulled out of you, painting your chest and stomach with ropes of white. 

You whined at the lack of sensation, your pussy convulsing around nothing. Ayato stared down at it in amusement. The sight of your quivering and dripping cunt alone was enough to make him hard again. He lined back up at your entrance, burying himself inside of you once again.

“Please, ‘s too much…” You murmured, your eyes unfocused from being so overwhelmed by pleasure.

“You asked for this. You begged for this, remember?” Ayato spoke coldly, smirking, beginning his brutal thrusts again.

“Ngh, anh~!” Your mouth fell open, drool beginning to drip from it as your eyes rolled back in your head. “Too good, too good…”

Ayato continued his pace, reveling in the way he was making you fall apart at the seams. The noises his cock made as it pummeled into you filled the room, the squelching and slapping sounds reverberating against the walls.

“Waka, I brought the four orders of boba you reque-” The door stopped halfway open, Ayato’s blonde assistant pausing as he witnessed the scene before him.

Ayato’s interrogations were usually either boring or spectacularly violent. They never were anything like this… He stared at his boss who was balls deep in the poor naked assassin who he had caught red-handed. Ayato’s thrusts had fallen still, and you began to blink back to life, realizing that someone had walked into the room.

“Ah, thank you Thoma, you can set it over there.” Ayato raised one hand to point at the table on the other side of the room, speaking perfectly calmly despite being balls deep in the cunt of someone tied up in shibari and covered in cum.

“Yes, sir.” Thoma walked over and set the servings of boba down on the table.

You finally had the wits about you to speak up. 

“What the fuck!?” You exclaimed, staring at the male assistant who seemed to be doing his best to ignore the scene he had walked into.

“On second thought, Thoma, bring me a cup.” Ayato spoke, holding one hand out as he ordered his retainer around.

“Yes, sir.” Thoma picked up one of the boba, handing it to the Yashiro Commissioner.

You watched in both awe and disgust as Ayato ripped open the top with his teeth. He grabbed your jaw with one hand and poured the boba all over your face with the other.

You choked and sputtered as the sweet liquid bombarded you once again, but couldn’t do much to resist as Ayato wrenched your mouth open to pour it down your throat.

This time, thankfully, you knew to hold your breath. However, you weren’t prepared to feel his soft and warm lips latch onto yours. His tongue invaded your mouth, scooping up the sweet boba pearls.

“Mmmh!” Your eyes went wide as you made a noise that bordered between protest and pleasure.

Ayato withdrew from the kiss, and you looked up to see him chewing on the boba that had just been in your mouth moments prior. He stared down at you, the milky tea running down your shoulders and torso, mixing with the cum from his previous releases.

“Hm.” He smirked, beginning to move his hips again to rut into your overused pussy.

“Aahn~” you moaned, your eyes going wide from the excessive stimulation.

“Uhm,” poor Thoma spoke up as he shifted in place, “I’ll take my leave now.”

“No.” Ayato responded sharply, his thrusts remaining just as quick and hard as he gave orders to his assistant. “You can watch.”

“Y-yes sir.” Thoma responded, his face turning pink.

You glanced over at the blonde assistant, your vision bouncing from how hard Ayato was shaking you with his thrusts. You gazes met for a moment, and his blush deepened. That was when your eyes shifted downwards to see a very obvious bulge in his pants.

Your eyes lingered for a moment too long, and Ayato wouldn’t let that slide. You felt fingers close around your neck, cutting off your supply of air.

“Look at me.” Ayato commanded, and you shifted to stare at his smug face through half-lidded eyes. 

The lack of air supply somehow elevated your pleasure even more, your walls clenching tighter around his cock. Your eyes began to roll back in your head, your vision unfocusing as you tried your best to continue staring up at Ayato.

“Yes…good.” Ayato grunted as the lack of air sent stars into your vision.

It was too much…the relentless abuse of your cunt, the second pair of eyes fixed on your sex, the lack of air…you went careening over the edge of your climax as you convulsed around Ayato. He continued thrusting, prolonging your orgasm, your vision finally going dark as you passed out. 

Thoma watched you go limp, worried for a moment that Ayato had simply choked you to death. However, Ayato quickly pulled out of you, releasing his grip on your neck as he let his climax spray over you in thick spurts. Thoma watched your chest rise and fall steadily with each breath, relieved that you were actually alive.

The Yashiro Commissioner walked over calmly, picking up a small towel and wiping himself clean. He put his pants and coat back on, checking his gloves before slipping them on as well. Thoma stared at his master, watching in awe as he effortlessly made himself look as if nothing lewd had ever happened.

“Nghh…” you groaned, finally coming back to your senses. Your eyes blinked open as you realized that everything that just happened wasn’t some insane dream.

“I’d like to make you an offer.” Ayato spoke up calmly. “Come work for me, and I’ll pay you double what you receive for murder.” 

You gawked. You were sitting in front of him, naked and tied to a chair, having just been fucked out of your mind. How could Ayato be thinking about work? You simply stared at the blue-haired Commissioner.

“You can respond when you’re ready.” Ayato continued as he turned and walked towards the door. “I have a meeting to attend. Thoma, clean up our guest.”

Guest…? Weren’t you only just being interrogated hours prior?

“Yes, sir.” Thoma responded.

As Ayato reached the door, he turned around and took one last glance at you. Your skin was shiny with dried milk tea, sweat, and cum. Your pussy was swollen and gaping, strings of your cum dripping from your abused entrance onto the chair and the floor below you. Your cheeks were rosy and eyes hazy from the volumes of pleasure he had just put you through. Ayato thought you were beautiful like this. Your leaking entrance seemed like it was calling to him, begging for more punishment from his cock, but Ayato couldn’t indulge himself any longer – he couldn’t be late to this meeting.

As Ayato finally left the room, Thoma rushed towards you and began to work on the knots that bound you to the chair. You glanced down at his pants as you watched him work, noticing that he was just as hard as before.

Finally, the ropes had loosened enough and your exhausted body slumped forward onto Thoma.

“Easy, there.” Thoma murmured, carefully catching your limp body. He didn’t seem to care that his clothes were getting stained with the tea and cum that coated your skin. You felt your leg brush against his stiff member, making Thoma freeze for a second.

“Ngh… I’m sorry…” you murmured.

“N-no, it’s okay. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Thoma responded calmly.

“Do you… want me to help… you with it?” You spoke. Thoma leaned back to meet your gaze, his green eyes staring into yours as he immediately knew what you were talking about. You had just been overstimulated until you passed out… And you’re already offering to help get Thoma off? The blonde assistant began to understand why Ayato had made you such an incredible offer.

“L-let’s get you cleaned up first.”

~Two Days Later~

You were resting in the plush sheets of a large bed. You had been allowed to stay in a spacious yet modestly decorated bedroom in the Kamisato estate. What little furnishings the room did have, however, were exquisite. You had no idea how you went from criminal to guest, but the events that led you to this point had left you craving the Yashiro Commissioner. In the past two nights, you had woken up sweaty and out of breath from some sort of lewd dream, your underwear ruined from the dirty thoughts that ran wild in your head.

Of course, after only one night, you gave Ayato your response. You were more eager than anything to work for him. Working for him would mean being around him more, giving you more chances to feel his cock fill you, to have him fuck you until you cried, to have him choke you through your orgasm…

A soft knock on the door stirred you from your thoughts.

“It’s Thoma, may I come in?”

“Y-yes!” You responded, sitting up in bed. The door slowly opened to show the blonde wearing a black-and-white ruffled maid uniform. Your mouth dropped open, realizing this was a stark difference compared to the red jacket and pants you had last seen him in.

“I brought your uniform…” Thoma walked towards the bed, setting a large but lightweight box in front of you. A hint of pink dusted his cheeks as he noticed your reaction to what he was wearing.

You glanced down at the box, slowly lifting the lid to see a similar ruffled dress folded neatly inside.

“Is this… what all the Kamisato servants wear?” You questioned, staring down at the contents of the box. A dress, a headband, and… a garter?

“No, definitely not.” Thoma responded, waving his hands in front of him. “It’s just for Ayato’s…personal staff. You only wear this inside the estate, and change into your own clothes when you go outside for anything.”

“I…see.” You began to feel turned on merely by the thought of wearing this sort of outfit in front of Ayato.

“Oh, and one other thing.” Thoma cut in. “No underwear allowed.”

Your eyes widened as you watched Thoma lift the hem of his dress. He raised it just enough to see his upper thigh, where a small box with a tiny button was taped to the soft skin. A thin wire trailed from the box and up his inner thigh, and you immediately knew where it was going. As Thoma dropped the hem of his dress and you met his gaze, you couldn’t help the smile that began to grow on your face.

You were glad your plan to kill the Yashiro Commissioner went so wrong.

~~~