#But I feel like I better answer now it already was like a week I think

[somerandomcockroach]

Hi hi! I just want to say I really like your artwork (though I’m a bit of a lurker so I’ve been a bit nervous to say anything until now 🫣). I can’t draw but I guess I can colour, so I decided to colour this sketch of yours! (I promise I didn’t repost it anywhere or pretend it’s mine I just wanted to show my admiration for your work 😭) I hope you have a good day!

Oh sweetie your coloring is (I almost said lovely ahah) intimidating in the most possible compliment way, I love it <3

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility and pregnancy

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: The Bunker

Your ankle feels better after a little over a week.

The one initially against you staying has been giving you medical check-ups every day—something about wasteland toxins and underlying, possible contagious sicknesses he’d like to keep a weathered eye out for. 

You hadn’t refused. After all, such precautions were only warranted.

When you first encountered them in the wasteland, they were both wearing hazmat suits and gas masks. And though you had already been put through the standard disinfection and the basic check—eyes, teeth, and tongue—before they’d even let you in, you can’t blame them for taking extra measures—no matter how meticulous the check-ups have been since, comprising of endless spit, blood, and urine samples.

Somehow, you actually appreciated the thoroughness. It was just one more thing that reminded you of the past. The way he sat there, behind the desk like a doctor, and you opposite, like a patient, waiting for your results.

You’d gotten more or less used to it now, so it didn’t feel as awkward anymore. And, if you were to say so yourself, you think he’s even warmed up to you a little bit too.

“You’re all clear. No detectable toxins,” he states after a moment, mulling over the data, more or less the same outcome he’d come to for the last four or so days. He scribbled a few things into the file he’d been conducting, a focused furrow between his brows as he worked. You felt inclined to inquire about what exactly he’d been jotting down all these days of running tests but then decided against it—explaining things to you would probably only vex him. He was a man of as few words as possible, after all.

He sighs, then informs, “We can stop checking every day now.”

“Really?” you light up—feeling excited for some reason. Suppose you took it as a sign of improvement even without knowing entirely what any of it actually meant. In any case, lesser checks must be good, right?

“Yeah. You’re way healthier, thanks to all our produce and not consuming any of that wasteland trash.” He pulled a grimace before his face settled back into that constant look of dour solemnity. “Blood pressure, heart rate, vitals—everything looks good.”

It almost seems like such a silly thing to even bother caring about. Only a few weeks ago, you hadn’t cared for any such thing as health as long as it meant you weren’t starving or freezing—and here you are, celebrating such a privileged thing as blood pressure.

You sniffle, can’t help yourself, balled fists quivering in your lap as a few tears start to drop, “Thank you—truly. I’d have died if it weren’t for the two of you.”

He must think you’re ridiculous, too, crying over something so small. You wipe your eyes, only to notice him holding out a tissue for you. You can only laugh at yourself while accepting it.

“You’ll help me in the greenhouse today since your ankle is all better,” he states while getting up.

You spring to your feet, too. This would be the first time you’d been asked to help out. “What about—”

“He’s busy doing inventory,” he answers before you get the question out. “We’ll have to change a few things since you’re staying.”

This stills you, breath caught in your throat. You look at him wide-eyed, scared you’d heard him wrong. Voice weak as if scared to ask, “I’m staying?”

“Tch—” It’s his turn to chuckle, though he does so much differently from you—mockingly, a way he often does at both your and the other's expense. Though, you’d taken to find it rather endearing. He gives you a look—it’s very almost soft. “You didn’t think we’d waste our resources on something we planned on chucking back out again, did you?”

A tug pulls your wobbly lips back into a smile. “I guess that would be silly...” you sniffle again. “Still, thank you.”

This time, as you say it, you rush to hug him—tightly, with both your arms wrapped around his tough midsection and your head tucked against his broad chest.

It’s him who falls still now—stunted by the action and left both speechless and frozen in place. His arms hover mid-air, unsure of where to rest, before slowly lowering to settle atop your narrow shoulders—so much smaller in comparison. It’s crazy to think you’d endured out in the wasteland for so long.

He’s sure you’ve done things in order to stay alive you’re not at all proud of. Still, your survival is no less than a miracle.

He clears his throat. “Let’s hurry up,” He dismisses, then proceeds to nudge you off as if the hug was unwanted, but even you can spot the blush dusting his cheeks as he looks away with another grumble, “We’re making dinner before he’s done.”

The smile on your face is a sight for sore eyes, he thinks. You didn’t smile like that a week ago.

“Yes, sir.” You salute, following him in stride.

You’d said it innocently enough, but by God, if only you knew how it takes everything in him not to bend you over the medical desk right then and tell you all about how you’re in the perfect window for conceiving. 

He manages to steal himself. 

After dinner, he promised himself soothingly, calming the hunger in his gut—after dinner, they’d decided, tonight would be the night they’d finally make use of you the real way they’d intended—have you earn your keep.

When you’re done tilling the gardens, about a couple hours later, the two of you move on to the kitchen. You’d learn that the brash one was in charge of making most meals, as the other one was more than hopeless in the kitchen. It seemed you were replacing him as the helper, given simple tasks such as cutting, measuring, and fetching things.

It felt nice to be doing something again, especially something so trivial. Housework and domestic chores were something one could only reminisce about, and yet here you were, doing just that—cutting carrots as if the outside world wasn’t a badland of people killing each other for a can of expired dog food.

You really were so lucky you could hardly believe it. The tears start bubbling again.

“If you’re finished cutting, go to the cupboard over there,” he jolts you out of your thoughts. Not looking away from stirring the pot, he points with his other hand toward the far side of the kitchen.

You pad over and open it to find two dozen or more bottles of wine, all neatly shelved.

“Pick one out,” he calls out.

You blink, looking between the wine and him. “You mean—”

“Anyone of ‘em is fine,” he says. “Feel free to read if you’re looking for something special, though. It’s you were celebrating, after all.”

This time, you can’t stop the tears as they trickle down your face one after the other, soaking your cheeks.

Hearing you sniffle makes him sigh with rust. Scolding you with military toughness, “Quit cryin’ already—it’s getting old.”

You wipe your eyes and stiffen your lip. “Yes, sir.”

Turning your head back to the shelf, you can hardly believe the sight. It had been all moonshine and slop out in the wasteland. Dangerous stuff you were better staying well away from.

You can’t believe you’re going to drink actual wine again—your mouth waters just at the thought as you pick the first bottle you set your eyes on. But then you stop yourself—a guilty knot in your stomach twisting.

“Is it really okay?” you ask. “Shouldn’t we save it?”

“Tch—” he scoffs disapprovingly again. “You gotta stop doin’ that.”

You’re left looking at him even though he keeps his back turned, still busy stirring the pot. He lifts a spoon for tasting, then adds more spice to his liking before continuing as though he could tell you were confused just from the silence.

“You’re not in the wasteland anymore—” he states. “You can afford to live a little now.”

A concept like that had yet to have reached you. 

Suppose you were still settling in. 

“Besides, there are more in the cellar,” he reveals. “Even if we drank a bottle every day, it would take years for us to finish. So don’t worry your pretty head ‘bout it, a’ight?”

Your grip around the bottle tightens—trying to toughen up to keep the tears at bay. But today was an emotional day, and it seemed there was no end to the blessings you were given. It was all so overwhelming, your heart swelled with happiness—a feeling you hadn’t felt in such an awfully long time.

“Something smells good!” comes a call.

It seems he’s returned from doing inventory.

“Oh no, why are you crying?” He instantly rushes over to you, holding your face to inspect the damage, then snaps his head to the other, who’s still busying himself with perfecting dinner. “Are you being too harsh on her?” he accuses. “You know, not everyone can live up to your cooking expectations—”

“Tch—I haven’t done shit,” he denies. “She’s just emotional ‘cause I told her we’re lettin’ her stay.”

“What!? You told her without me?” he cries then. “We were supposed to surprise her together.” His pout is instantly replaced with a blank look of surprise as you wrap your arms around him like you’d done with the other earlier—hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” you repeat to him as well.

You still couldn’t believe how nice they had been to you. 

After dinner is eaten, the three of you end up sitting there, chatting—about the past, most of all, how things used to be—how people would live in little houses with next-door neighbors they’d invite over for game night—little families with kids and backyards and pet dogs—college, marriage, careers.

You helped the stoic one clear the dishes while the chipper of the two opened another bottle of wine. You can hardly believe it when they bring out the record player and slide a vinyl on.

You end up crying again as the music plays. You even dance. Laughter fills the bunker while you get completely swept away with the feeling of utter bliss. And as the wine finishes and the conversation turns sloppy, the hands twirling your body to the music get a little touchier, a little greedier, until you’re suddenly kissed.

Between the two of them, the air becomes hot—steamy as you share breathes. 

Busy hands, large and strong and callused from labor, work on your button-up shirt. It’s gone before you know it, then the hands move on to your pants.

Honestly, after all the emotions joined by the wine and dance and being spun between the two, you can’t say you’re completely without lust, but at the same time, you’re just a bit confused. 

Despite not having seen them kiss in front of you, you’re certain they both go to bed in the same room every night—so all this time, you’d been under the impression that they were involved with each other and not interested in you that way. 

Not that it matters much what you thought, you think, you’re not against what’s happening so much as you’re a little hesitant about how it’s about to happen. It’s been a while since you’ve slept with anyone—willingly, that is—you’ve sort of forgotten how to enjoy it. 

If it were just one, you’d maybe find it a bit less overwhelming, but given there were two, you quickly found yourself feeling somewhat claustrophobic.

“Wait—” you stutter. Blocking the advance with your own hands, looking up into drunken and heated eyes and the soft look of arousal painted on the face before you. 

“Don’t worry,” he comforts with that kind smile. “You’re the most valuable thing we have—we’re gonna be gentle.”

You almost bite, almost give in, almost let it soothe you. But even in the drunk haze, the choice of phrasing finds you a little odd. And you’re unable to disregard that feeling that’s been nagging at the very back of your head ever since you stepped foot in the place. 

Something’s not right.

“Valuable?” Sure, you could choose to understand it as them saying they care for you, but somehow, it just doesn’t feel as if that’s all. “What does that mean?”

“You know…” he utters softly—his kind smile curling into something different. His eyes fall downward as he licks his lips before finishing, “This.” 

He’s laid a hand atop your belly where his gaze is set—his palm flat and firm as he rubs tentative circles into the softness.

It takes you a moment before you shudder. “You…” 

You needed to be rational about this. Some part of you always knew there was something going on, didn’t it? Why else would you be here? Why else would they let you stay? The cameras in the bedroom, in the showers, all those medical checkups—you’ve known there was something. And still, you hadn’t left. You hadn’t even so much as humored the thought even once.

There is no life for you out there. You don’t just want to stay—you have to—you need to.

And is it really so bad? Hadn't they been nice? Haven’t they been more than generous? Don’t you owe them so much more than what they’re asking in return?

But what are they asking? It’s not just intimacy. It’s something else—something premeditated.

“You want to use me to…” The realization makes you shudder. “To make you a child…”

Like an incubator.

They don’t deny it.

You want to back up—create space—room to breathe, but the other is just behind you with his big chest pressed stiffly against your back, keeping you close, trapped before the one in front.

“It’s true…” he confesses at your ear. “That is all we wanted from you in the beginning.” 

It sends a chill down your spine.

“It was almost too good to be true when we found you,” he continued while playing with your waist in big hands. “How a perfect candidate fell right into our lap mere days after we decided to go lookin’ for one.”

You suck in a hitched breath as the well of tears breaches, dribbling down your cheeks at the clinical word—candidate.

“But you’re more than that now,” the other reassures, bowing and fishing for your eyes as you’d taken to look down—too horrified to look him back in his. 

“We figured you’d be a savage, havin’ lived out there for so long,” the one behind says. He’d been the most skeptical at first, but he’d come to learn it was rather the opposite—your time out there hadn’t toughened your skin or hardened your heart but only made you timid and soft.

“In all honesty, we weren’t sure we were gonna keep you after the pregnancy…” the one in front whispers upon your lips. “But that’s all in the past now.”

He lifts your chin, taking in the all-too-soft look of despair on your face. It’s a strange thing to say he’d missed. It nearly makes him feel guilty for the hard-on in his cargo pants. But then again, tears are the allure of the gentler sex. It’s only natural for a man to enjoy the sight.

“We want you to stay.” He strokes your cheek, catching the tears on his thumb. “After all, it would be best for the baby to have a female presence—especially one as soft as yours.”

“And, well…” You flinch at the stubble being dragged upon your shoulder and neck, a kiss placed in the nook there along with his words, “We’ve grown to like having you around.”

His hands had fallen from your waist down to rub your hips, swaying you back against his crotch—and the bulge there, that now felt a little more like a gun being poked against your back. 

“It’s been a long while since we’ve had the company of a woman,” he continues while pressing himself against you. “It was unfamiliar at first, but… it’s nice.”

Something urgent takes over your body then—even though it’s beyond stupid. There’s no plan, no further thought than run—despite having no solid clue as to where. And yet, it ends up not mattering in the slightest. You don’t make it far.

You scream as their hands snag you. The grumpier one locks your arms, the chipper one grabs your legs—and they both lift and carry you back—laying you down on the little round table you’d had dinner on.

You struggle, but your wrists are pinned down to the metal with a strength you can’t hope to match.

“Don’t be like that.” He clicks his tongue dismissively like he so often does when you say or do something stupid. “There’s nowhere to go.”

“No—” you cry. “Please—don’t.” Shaking your head while squeezing your thighs shut. 

Never mind having sex, you could endure that much—but having a baby in this mess? They’re the ones who lost their minds down here. 

“I can’t—”

“Of course, you can,” the other insists, prying your thighs apart to make space for himself between them, already with his hands returning to undo the button of your pants, zipping down the fly and tugging them off.

“No—”

He’s back to console you just as quickly, “Shh-sh, don’t cry,” he soothes, cupping your face in both palms. He gives you that kind smile again, but it no longer serves as any source of comfort—now just a mouth full of teeth. “We’ll be gentle.”

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Neighbour - Noncon

With your electricity out and your devices dead, you have no choice but to turn to your neighbour for help. He's more than willing to welcome you into his home. Really, you're lucky he's such a nice guy.

Tags: male yandere x gender neutral reader, noncon, somno, just the tip anal, daddy kink but only if you squint, 3.3k words

Living in the middle of nowhere had its perks. Privacy. Untouched nature. Peace and quiet.

But after the third day with no electricity, those perks were starting to look pretty damn weak. Your fridge was sitting in an ever expanding puddle. Almost all your devices were dead. And if you had to take one more cold shower you were going to cry.

It was when you were digging through your drawer looking for desperately needed batteries that you found your neighbour's number. He'd offered it to you a little while after you moved in, and while you two were on friendly terms, you'd never actually spoken for longer than a few minutes. You sighed, looked at the 10% left on your phone and decided that desperate times called for desperate measures.

You: hey, it's me. I still haven't got any power. Do you mind if I come over to charge some stuff?

He replied almost instantly.

Unknown: aww that sucks

Unknown: come on over. I've got hot stew and a generator

Unknown: and you can take a hot shower too if you want

Score. And to think you found him intimidating at first. Just goes to show that you can't judge on appearances. You packed a change of clothes, your devices and the last tub of ice cream that wasn't totally melted. You'd find some way to properly pay him back but a tub of chocolate fudge double cream wasn't a bad way to start.

He was waiting on his porch when you pulled up. A bear of a man in a flannel and blue jeans, a five o' clock shadow darkening his jaw.

"Howdy neighbour," he drawled, opening your door for you while you grabbed your stuff. "Regretting leaving the city yet?"

You huffed a laugh. "You do NOT want to know the answer to that."

His cabin was much larger than yours, a two storey behemoth with wide windows and exposed beams. It had a rustic charm - like some natural park Air BnB where they charged a weeks pay for just one night. A little too big for just one man. Didn't he get lonely?

"I brought some ice cream and chocolate to say thank you. And also because it miiight have been melting."

He opened the door for you and ushered you through with a hand on your lower back.

"Hell, I'll never say no to something sweet."

There was a fire burning in the fireplace and a stack of logs in a crate next to it. He was so much better suited to this life than you were. He locked the door behind you and slipped the keys into his pocket.

"Old habit," he explained with an easy grin.

"Why don't you get settled? I'll plug your stuff in."

You handed over your tech with a relieved sigh.

"Thank you. Really. I'm so behind on work already and I haven't heard anything back from the power company."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," he said. "Once ended up going a week straight with not even a light bulb flickering."

You winced. "It gets that bad?"

"Yep. Especially in winter. Gets dangerous then too."

He tilted his head at you, concerned. "You need to get yourself better sorted before it starts snowing. I hate to think of you stuck out there when the blizzards start rolling in."

God, could you be any more of a city slicker? You rubbed your neck, embarrassed.

"Thanks. I've been here a few months now and I guess I just didn't realise how serious things can get."

"It's all good. But if I'm honest, I get worried thinking about you out there all alone. Plenty of drifters end up passing through. Not a good place to be alone, not for a little thing like yourself."

Little? You wanted to feel indignant, but looking at his bulk, you reckoned that most folk probably seemed little to him.

He lead you to the fireplace and poured you a mug of coffee from the pot that was waiting for you. He jerked his head at the hunting rifle on display above the mantle.

"I can teach you to shoot, if you've got some free time."

You took a sip of the coffee, internally debating with yourself. You could see the sense in your offer but you weren't a big fan of guns. Hell, just being around them was nerve wrecking enough. Maybe -

You looked down at your mug in surprise.

"This is some really good stuff."

The coffee was strong, bitter in the best sort of way. You could catch a hint of chocolate in it too. Just sweet enough to make your toes curl.

" 'Course. Only the best for my guest. Help yourself to another cup. I'll just put your stuff on charge and be right back."

You finished your drink in a few sips and happily poured a second serving. Hot coffee... man, you didn't think three days without it would be so tough. Usually, you were pretty sensitive to caffeine. But by the time your neighbour came back, your head was tilted back and you were half asleep.

You tried to shake yourself out of it but he just laughed and pushed you back down.

"You probably haven't had a good sleep since the power went out. Just rest. We can talk once you wake up."

"I'm sorry..."

"It's fine." His hand was still on your shoulder, thumb rubbing small circles into your neck. "It's just fine with me."

You drifted off after that. Into a deep sleep without any dreams. Waking up was like slogging through molasses.

"Finally up sleepy head?"

It was dark outside and your neighbour was on one knee in front of the fire place, coaxing fresh wood to catch.

You sat up slowly. Your muscles ached and there was a strange, salty taste on your tongue.

"My heads killing me..."

He stood, poker still in his hand. "You must be starving then. I've already got some food on the stove. You'll feel better after you eat."

You didn't feel hungry at all. If anything, you felt almost hangover.

"Thanks," you managed. "I'm sorry to be such a bother."

He waved you away. "I don't mind a bit."

He came back with a bowl of steaming hot chow and stood with his arms crossed on the back of your couch while you ate.

"It's real late. I reckon you should stay over. I don't want you driving on dirt when it's so dark."

"Oh, it's fine. I've already put you out so much."

"Don't be silly. I insist."

You shivered without meaning to. That almost growl, low and bordering on menacing. It was so familiar, so...

"Just like that. Look at you, half asleep and still desperate for my cock."

"You like the taste? Yeah, I bet you fucking do."

"Ain't just gonna use your mouth next time."

You squeezed your eyes shut. Where the hell was this coming from? Were you remembering some sick dream from this afternoon?

"You okay there neighbour?"

You nodded. "Just my head."

Maybe he was right. Driving when you were so disorientated was just asking for trouble.

"If you really don't mind... I'll be happy to sleep over."

He laughed, a deep, rumbling thing. "I'll make the guest room up special, just for you."

"Could I use your shower too?"

"I offered didn't I? Come on, I'll show you where it is."

He took you to the master bedroom and jerked his thumb at the en-suite.

"Hot water is the most reliable in there. Door doesn't close that well though, so don't mind it. I'll be downstairs when you're done."

You brushed your teeth carefully. You lips felt sore, bruised in a way you couldn't explain.

You waited until you heard his footsteps going down the stairs before you stripped off your clothes. You stood under the hot water for a good few minutes, luxuriating in the feeling. The bathroom was thick with steam when you finally got to scrubbing yourself. The door was open just a crack and the bedroom beyond was dark. You forgot all about it until you heard the creak of the hinges.

You whirled to face the door, your hands coming up to cover yourself. The steam was too thick to see through. You called his name.

Nothing.

You stepped out with suds still on your thighs and pushed the door open. The room beyond was empty.

You sighed. God, you were being paranoid. Your neighbour was a great guy. It was unfair of you to treat him like a peeping tom when he'd gone out of his way to make you comfortable. It must have been just an errant draught.

You stepped back into the shower and rinsed yourself off. But no matter what you told yourself, you still kept an eye on the door.

When you went to change into your fresh clothes, you spent at least five minutes hunting for your underwear. Did you drop it somewhere? Oh, please say your undies weren't just sitting in the middle of his hallway. That would be beyond embarrassing.

Eventually you gave up and just decided to go without them. Not comfortable at all but still better than walking around in a towel to look for them. And much better than calling your neighbour in to help. Wouldn't that be fun? 'Hey neighbour that I don't know that well, you haven't seen my intimates lying around, have you?' Yeah, you'd never again get invited over after something like that.

When you were dressed, you found him already on his way up the hall. He was carrying a glass of water and some pills.

"Thought you might still have a headache, so I brought you some painkillers."

You paused, nervous but not sure why.

"Thanks." His hands dwarfed yours when he handed them over. You didn't recognise the name of on the pills, but they looked harmless. You tossed them back and gagged at the bitter aftertaste.

"They pack a punch, so tell me when you start to get drowsy."

"Aye aye captain."

You followed him to the guest room. It was at the very back on the second story, quieter than the rest of the house. A huge glass wall gave you a view of the forest disappearing into the darkness. You could see the ghost of your reflection in the glass, your neighbour a hulking, shapeless mass at your shoulder.

He took a seat in an armchair across form the bed and stretched out his legs. You perched on the edge of the mattress, still feeling a bit like an intruder.

"How long have you been staying out here?” you asked.

He smiled at you, teeth glinting almost wolf-like. "Got you curious?"

"A little. Folk in town say they hardly see you. I don't know... I'm just wondering if you ever get lonely."

He was quiet and you cursed yourself for being so nosy. You hurried to fill the silence.

"It's just that I get a bit lonely out here too. 'Specially when it's so quiet. And I guess I was wondering if it's the same for you."

He smiled at you, rueful. "At times. Used to be worse, but I've got a new interest to keep me occupied nowadays."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"Bird watching."

"Really? What do you look for?"

The way the room was lit up, you couldn't see his eyes. They fell into shadow and you only had his lips to read his emotions by. He smirked, slow and almost mocking.

"Just one bird I look out for. Flighty little thing. Tends to get caught by predators a lot. You’d probably recognise it."

The polite thing to do would be to ask what it was called. You didn't. Some part of whispered that you wouldn't like the answer.

You must have been quiet a little too long because he took it as his cue to leave. He stood, a mountain of muscle, his eyes not quite as nice as they seemed that afternoon. A trick of the light, surely. He wouldn't hurt a fly.

"You rest up. Got a busy day tomorrow."

"G'night."

He was gone before you thought to ask what he meant. And you were passed out on your pillows before you realised it. He was right. The pills sure did pack one hell of a punch.

You were aware of a shadow at the end of your bed. You weren't fully awake, and your limbs were slow and heavy with more than just sleep.

"Who..."

The shadow reached down and one warm paw circled your ankle.

"Just me little bird."

You knew that voice. It was the voice that brought you warm food and invited you in from the cold. You could trust it. Could go back to sleep and not worry about anything.

'No,' some part of you hissed, 'He's not as safe as you think.'

"Cold..."

The shadow laughed and it was the laugh of the fox finding the rabbit's den. Nasty. Hungry.

"Cold huh? Don't worry baby. I'll warm you right up."

He yanked your ankle towards him and your whole body slid down the bed. You were too drowsy to stop it.

"Knew you were gonna be mine the second I saw you," he cooed, hands running up your thighs.

His fingers slipped under your waistband, nails scraping your hip bones.

"Dumb little thing from the city. Doesn't even realise I've tripped all their breakers. That's why you don't have power baby. It's all me."

His fingers were as big as the rest of him. Thick, meaty. Skin rough from working outdoors. You whined when his fingertips scraped the edges of your hole.

"No underwear. You needy slut. That's practically a written and signed invitation to fuck you."

He pulled your pants down to your ankles and pushed your knees up to your stomach. And you were too out of it to stop him. Limp and pliable as a fuck doll.

Your tight ass was exposed to the cold air, entirely at the mercy of whatever he wanted to do.

"Cute." He circled his thumb around the rim, almost pushing in but not quite. "Wanted to be in this ass since you first showed up at my door all those months ago. Lookin' up at me all sweet. Fuck, it's enough to drive a man to desperation."

He lowered his head and you could feel his warm breath washing over your thighs.

He dragged his tongue across your hole. Some part of you must have been more awake than the rest, because your whole body jerked away from him.

"None of that," he cooed, hands digging into your thighs and dragging you back. "I haven't even gotten started yet."

He licked you again, deeper this time. The flexed tip of his tongue pushing at your entrance, and to your dull horror, actually slipping in. He moaned and you could feel the vibrations all through your crotch.

He pulled out and spat, rubbed it in with his fingers. One of them pushed in until the second joint, curling into your walls so rough that you gasped.

"Please..."

"Please what?" he mocked. "Please fuck my tight little ass? Please cum inside me? Use your words little bird."

"Please...stop..."

That made him laugh again, made him shove his finger in all the way to the knuckle. Twisting so cruelly as he pulled out and jerked back in.

"Stop? Stop? After all the work it took to get you here? No way baby. I'm not slowing down and I'm sure as fuck not stopping."

You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, followed by a sharp intake of breath when he nudged his leaking head against your hole.

"You’re not going to remember this. And I'm not going to leave any evidence."

He pushed your legs tighter against your chest.

"So as much as I want to fuck you rotten, you're gonna have to be happy with just the tip."

He'd done a good job loosening and lubing you, but it still burned like a hot poker when he forced his way in. He groaned, almost in pain.

"You're fucking choking me. God, do you want my cum so bad?"

You could feel when the tip was in. That tiny difference in thickness between his head and shaft was oh so noticeable when your ass was clenching and fluttering around it. It was the smallest mercy, but mercy nonetheless.

He was panting from the effort of getting it in, the effort of holding back. The size difference between you almost perverse. Like a draft stallion trying to mount a pony. In every way, he was just too fucking big.

He spat in his hand and brought it to his cock, ran his palm up and down his shaft with sickly wet strokes. The combination of his palm and your squeezing ass was fucking delicious.

He had great stamina but fuck if it didn't feel like you were milking him.

He let go long enough to smack your ass. It almost finished him. You clenched around him so hard it felt like his tip was getting fucking crushed.

"Shiiiit, you're the best hole I've ever had. Can't wait 'til I can go all the way."

You whined, pitiful as snared prey. There were words there, though they were too slurred to make out. Something about Daddy and please and stop. He ignored you.

He pushed in a little deeper and watched your face scrunching up. So helpless, so fucking caught. That was what did it. The knowledge that he could do this to you at any point and you'd be helpless to stop it.

He came inside you, snarling through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into your thigh hard enough to bruise. You'd notice the marks in the morning and chalk it up to just being clumsy. But he'd know. He'd see the bruises peeking out from the hem of your shorts and his cock would twitch just a little at the memory of leaving them.

His cock pulsed. Shot strings of spunk deep inside you. You could feel it. Hot, too hot. Gross. Make it stop. Get it out.

He pulled out with a wet pop. His cum drooled down and he took a minute to work it back into you with his finger. Your hole was gaping just a little and it made his balls pulse. If he had the time...

"A real fucking mess. And on my good sheets too. You're a terrible guest."

He mopped up whatever cum remained with a balled up piece of martial that he pulled from his pocket. Even in you stupor, you recognised it as your missing underwear.

"Terrible guest, but the perks of having you around are pretty fucking sweet."

He dropped your knees back to the mattress, pulled your pants back into place and roughly yanked the duvet over you. He grabbed your jaw and smiled at the lost, drowsy look in your half open eyes.

"Got a big day tomorrow. Gonna wake up and find your whole house was flooded. Ruined. Gonna have nowhere to stay but with me."

He sounded smug. It made your guts twist.

Outside, the night grew quiet. A predator was hunting and most prey knew better than to catch its attention.

"I made sure of it. All your family and friends in the city are away from home. There's no one around to help you out..."

He tightened his grip just enough to watch the fear start dancing in your eyes.

"No one...except me."

He let you go and smiled that same warm, comforting smile from that afternoon.

"Dumb little thing. Got no clue how your water mains work, do you? Got no idea how easy they are to sabotage."

He tutted. "Got me so damn busy. I'm gonna have to run to your place, fuck shit up and be back here before you wake up for real."

He traced his index finger over your lips and left behind a sticky coating of spunk. You'd wake up tasting salt again, with no memory of why.

"But it's fine. I forgive you. After today we'll have plenty of time together. Rest of our lives in fact. So just sleep tight and forget what you think you've dreamed."

There are perks to living in the middle nowhere. Privacy. Untouched nature. Peace and quiet.

There are perks, but unfortunately for you, your neighbour isn't one of them.

[hopingforrainydays]

if brains were gold - part three | d. malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

warnings: light bullying, reader is in crisis

word count: 2.5k

summary: the third installment for this series. draco malfoy is your soulmate, but where do you go from here?

author’s note: so *technically* this is the final part, but i could definitely be convinced to give you guys another <3 i love these two too much to leave them

read part one | part two

masterlist

requests are open!

--

The silence stretched between you like an unspoken war. For days, maybe weeks, you had convinced yourself that it was better this way—better not to acknowledge the truth that had settled uncomfortably in your chest. But denial was a fragile shield, and it had cracked the moment Draco Malfoy called you darling.

You had spent years wondering about your soulmate. Years. Who they were, what they looked like, what sort of person they would be. The connection between you had always been strange—strong but quiet, never intrusive, never forceful. It was like an old radio signal, always there in the background, tuning in and out at its own whim. But now it was dead air.

Draco knew.

He had known since the Potions exam, since you had reached out with that careless apology. Maybe he had suspected before, but that was the moment everything shifted.

And what did he do? Nothing. No acknowledgement, no confrontation, not even a whisper of recognition. It wasn't rejection—at least, not directly—but it felt like something worse. Indifference.

You weren't sure why that stung so much. Malfoy had never been anything to you except an annoyance, a thorn in your side with a sharp tongue and a sharper wit. He was arrogant and insufferable, and you had spent years exchanging insults as if they were greeting. He was the last person you had ever wanted your soulmate to be.

And yet.

He had called you darling like it was the easiest thing in the world. As if he had always been saying it. As if he had always known.

By the time you found yourself outside the Slytherin common room, it was well past curfew. The dungeons were cold, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows against the stone walls. It was foolish to come here, reckless even. But you had never been one to leave things unfinished.

The entrance was hidden, of course, but that never stopped you before. You rapped your knuckles against the wall, once, twice, before stepping back and waiting.

Painfully waiting.

The silence stretched long enough that you wondered if you had made a mistake, if he wouldn't come, if he would leave you standing here alone in the dark. But then the wall shifted, and Draco Malfoy stood before you, expression unreadable.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. His gaze flickered over you, searching, calculating. You had spent so many years seeing that look on his face—contempt, amusement, superiority. But now it was something else entirely. Something uncertain.

"You're not supposed to be here," he said finally, voice low and even.

"You don't get to ignore me."

His lips twitched, almost into a smirk. "I think I can do whatever I please."

You inhaled sharply, steadying yourself. "You knew," you accused. "You've known."

His expression didn't change. "Yes."

The confirmation knocked the breath from your lungs, even though you had already known the answer.

"You should have told me."

Draco leaned against the doorway, arms folding across his chest. "Should I have? Would it have changed anything?"

"Yes."

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. "How?"

You faltered. You didn't know how to explain the way it had felt to be ignored, to feel that connection—so strange and intangible—suddenly severed. How could you explain the ache that settled in your bones, the resentment that had curdled into something darker? A part of you wondered if he ever felt the same.

"I wouldn't have spent weeks wondering if I was going mad."

Draco exhaled, slow and measured. "I thought it would be easier this way."

"For who?"

His jaw tightened. "For both of us."

"Is that what you want?" Your words were barely a whisper.

Draco hesitated. It was brief, nearly imperceptible, but you saw it. And for the first time, you saw something vulnerable and unsure in him.

"You're not supposed to be my soulmate," he admitted. "It doesn't make sense."

It hurt more than it should have. You weren't sure what you had expected—some grand declaration, a dramatic revelation that would make everything click into place. But this? This was hesitation. This was uncertainty.

"You think I wanted this?" You laughed, hollow. "You think I wanted you?"

His expression shuttered.

You turned to leave, because you weren't sure if you could stand there any longer and endure another second of whatever this was. Before you could take a step, his hand caught your wrist, fingers curling around your skin.

The touch sent a shiver through you, the bond between you flaring to life for the first time in weeks. And for just a moment, you could feel it—his emotions, tangled and chaotic, the uncertainty and frustration and something else, something you didn't dare name.

"I don't know what to do with this," he admitted, voice quiet.

You swallowed hard. "Then figure it out."

Draco didn’t let go, not immediately. He stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time, like he was trying to make sense of something impossible. And maybe he was.

Then, finally, he released you. The absence of his touch was immediate, and you hated that you missed it.

“Goodnight, darling,” he murmured.

It was the first time he had ever said it with meaning. And you knew, without a doubt, that this wasn’t over.

The next day was nothing short of a disaster.

The weight of the previous night clung to you, turning the morning sluggish and disorienting. You had barely slept, thoughts of Draco and the damning truth of your soulmate bond refusing to give you a moment's peace. Maybe, you thought, if you ignored it long enough, it would all go away. Maybe he would act as though he didn't know.

But the universe wasn't that kind.

Your next Potions exam had gone exactly as expected: a catastrophe. Whether it was karma, poetic justice, or sheer mental exhaustion, your mind blanked the moment the questions met your gaze. You had spent the entire time staring at the parchment, desperately willing the answers to appear, but there was no voice whispering guidance in the back of your mind this time. No invisible presence steering your hand.

You could only be thankful that it wasn't a practical.

The exam was collected, and you knew before Snape even looked at it: you had failed.

And everyone else knew it, too.

The whispers began before you even left the classroom, a venomous buzz creeping into the air. But Pansy never did bother to whisper.

"Well, well," she drawled, strolling up beside you with all the grace of a cat preparing to sink its claws in. "Looks like your streak of academic excellence was short-lived."

You exhaled through your nose and kept walking. Not today.

"Where's that determination and hard work now?" Blaise added, his voice laced with amusement. "Or did your mysterious 'study habits' stop working?"

The words shouldn't have stung, but they did. You had expected this, even braced for it, and yet, standing there in the dim corridor, surrounded by judging eyes and cruel laughter, you felt like a cornered animal.

"Maybe she finally realized reading the back of her textbook doesn't count as studying," Daphne Greengrass quipped, arms folded as she leaned against the stone wall. Usually so quiet, she seemed to have found her confidence in your downfall.

"Or maybe," Pansy interrupted, stepping directly into your path, "whoever helped you the first time decided you weren't worth the effort."

Your nails dug into your palms. That one hit a little too close.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and forced out a scoff. "If you're all so interested in my academic performance, I can hand you a signed copy of my failure if you'd like."

"Oh, no need," Pansy grinned, tilting her head in mock sympathy. "We'll hear about it from Snape soon enough."

The laughter flared again, grating and sharp, and despite your best efforts, the anger started to rise. Not just at them—but at him. Because of course, Draco was there. Of course, he stood at the back of the group, arms crossed, expression unreadable as he watched them pick at you like vultures. He said nothing. Not a single word in your defense.

Coward.

Fine. If he was going to stand there and let them tear you apart, then maybe it was time for a little reciprocity. A single sentence, just one, was all it would take. The soulmate bond was a whisper away from exposure. All you had to do was let the words fall.

Your soulmate was forced to help you.

Draco Malfoy was forced to help you.

It would be so easy. The look on his face would be priceless. The stunned silence of his so-called friends? Worth every ounce of humiliation you had endured. He deserved to feel it too. He deserved—

But you couldn't do it.

Because the moment your lips parted, Draco met your gaze.

And for a split second—just a fraction of a breath—you saw something beneath the cold, practiced mask. Not disdain. Not mockery. Something raw.

You shut your mouth. Inhaled sharply. Exhaled slower.

No.

No, you weren’t going to give them the satisfaction. And you weren’t going to give him the easy way out, either. If he wanted to stand there and say nothing, then let him stew in his own cowardice. If he wasn’t ready to face this—face you—then he could choke on his silence.

You straightened, forcing a smirk onto your face that you didn’t quite feel. “I suppose we’ll see if my next score is just as bad,” you said breezily, stepping past Pansy with an air of indifference you had to drag out of your very soul. “Then again, you lot seem far more invested in my life than your own. Maybe I should be worried for you instead?”

"Don't worry," Pansy called after you. "I’m sure whoever helped you before will be happy to watch you fail on your own.”

This time, you didn’t stop walking.

Your hands were trembling by the time you reached the common room. You collapsed onto the nearest armchair, pressing your fingers to your temple, exhaling hard. The weight of unspoken words sat heavy on your chest, the realization of what you had nearly done slamming into you like a freight train.

You could have exposed him.

And yet, you hadn’t.

Maybe that was the cruelest part of all: you weren’t sure if you regretted it.

Regret was a terrible thing, after all, and it was what kept you lingering in the corridors like a ghost instead of attending the rest of your classes. Your mind would not stop—a dangerous thing, as it almost always meant that he could hear you.

At this hour, the halls were mostly empty. Some students, rebellious or otherwise, stumbled past you with a look that read, if you don't tell, neither will I. But you didn't see them, not really.

Your hands curled into fists as you paced. Maybe you should expose him—tell them all how he looked at you when he thought no one would notice, how his gaze lingered longer than it should, how there was something just beneath the surface of his carefully constructed indifference. Tell them all how he wasn't as untouchable as he pretended to be.

You could already imagine the look on Pansy's face.

Oh, but you wouldn't. Because as much as it burned, as much as it twisted in your chest, you knew the truth: he was trapped just as much as you were.

A sound behind you made you stop, breath catching. Footsteps. Not hurried, not hesitant, not like any of the others—measured. You knew who it was before you turned.

Draco.

He stood at the end of the corridor, half-lit by the sun beaming through the large windows. Shadows carved sharp angles into his face. His expression was unreadable, but his hands were shoved deep in his pockets. A tell. He was unraveling, too.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, charged and heavy, pulling tight between you.

Then, finally, you spoke. "Why didn't you say anything?" Your voice was quiet, but the accusation was there, threaded through every syllable.

Draco exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "What did you expect me to do?"

At this, you faltered. "I don't know. Defend me?"

"I can't—"

"Can't or won't?"

His eyes flashed. For a second, just a second, you thought he might say it—admit what had been simmering between you for weeks. But then he looked away, lips pressing into a thin line.

"That's not fair," he said.

You scoffed. "Oh, you want to talk about fair?"

Draco's gaze snapped back to you, sharper now. "I didn't join in, did I?"

"As if that's enough," she shot back. "As if standing there, watching them tear me down, makes you any better."

His face twisted. A crack in his carefully built walls. "You think I liked it?"

"Then why?"

Draco let out a slow breath, running a hand over his face. "Because if I step in, if I fight them for you, it won't stop. It'll get worse."

Your throat tightened. "For me or for you?"

Silence. His silence was answer enough.

You shook your head, stepping back. "Coward."

That got to him. You saw it in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for something but didn't know how.

"Maybe," he admitted, voice low. "But you don't know what you're asking me to risk."

Your voice came quieter now. "If you don't take the risk, you'll lose." Lose me, you thought.

Something broke between you then, a shift too sudden and sharp to stop. Draco took a step forward, then another, and suddenly he was too close, the air between you charged and electric and too much.

"I hate this," he muttered, almost to himself. "I hate watching them talk to you like that. I hate pretending I don't—"

He cut himself off, but it was too late. The words hung there, unfinished but undeniable.

Your heart pounded. "Then don't."

Draco exhaled, a shaky, uneven thing. His gaze dropped to your lips, just for a second, before he dragged it back up to meet your eyes.

"This is a mistake," he murmured.

I don't know what to do with this. Then figure it out.

"Probably."

And then he kissed you. It wasn't careful, wasn't measured—wasn't anything like the detached, untouchable persona he wore like armor. It was desperate, raw, full of all the things you hadn't said, all the tension that had been building for so long it felt inevitable.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. He didn't fight you. Didn't pull away. He kissed you like he was starving, like you were the only thing the could sustain him. And maybe you were.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes were still shut. "This changes everything."

You swallowed, fingers still curled into the fabric of his shirt. "Good."

Draco let out a soft, almost bitter chuckle. "You're impossible."

A small smirk fell over your lips. "And yet, here you are."

His eyes opened then, searching yours, and for the first time, you saw it—what he'd been trying to bury, what he had been so afraid of.

He was yours. He had been for a long time.

And now, finally, you both had stopped fighting it.

--

buy me a coffee

taglist: @v1rg1nvodkasprite @bi-andready-tocry @lolawassad

[flowery-mess]

lost in touch

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

Warnings: 18+! MDNI / sexual content - oral, fingering, protected sex, nipple play, dry humping / use of a blindfold / mentions of tied hands / dirty talk (I tried lol) / inexperienced reader / I think that's it, let me know if you find anything else

Words: 6k

Author's note: can't believe my longest frat Noah fic is a smut😭 I project lot of myself into Ella and this one shot is proof of that lol

frat boy Noah masterlist

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

✨This one is happening in the beginning of their story, let’s say like the third/fourth time they spend the night together…✨

“What’s up with you Noah? You haven’t said a single word yet.” Nick elbowed Noah in his side, pulling him out of the trance he was in.

“Not in the mood.” he replied grumpily.

Noah was actually looking forward to leaving, with or without you, tonight was just one of those days. He arrived an hour ago and was ready to leave immediately. He wanted to know if you’re going to show up, probably yes, so he opted for staying until you do.

When you did show up, he almost felt bad for wanting to leave immediately. You were looking particularly good, black dress with white pattern with long sleeves, a leather jacket over your shoulders, black tights and boots. Your hair and makeup was nicely done and you looked like you were ready to have fun.

You didn’t look out for him, why would you when you usually leave at 1AM, not 9PM.

“So, what are we drinking tonight?” Clara asked you and Molly when you stood in front of the “bar”.

“How about vodka soda for starters?” Molly suggested and you all agreed.

Noah watched you and your friends from his spot on the couch thinking about his options. One, he leaves without talking to you, two, he asks if you want to leave right now and you turn him down, three, he asks if you want to leave right now and you agree.

When Jolly threw popcorn at him and had another annoying comment about why he hasn’t spoken a word, Noah just took out his phone and texted you “meet me in the backyard in a minute?” and flipped his friends off.

He was already waiting for you when you opened the back door that led you to the garden. Frown on his face which didn’t go away even when you said “Hi.” and gave him one of your smiles.

“Hi. I, uh, I’m not really in the mood for a party tonight so I wanted to ask if you’d like to leave, like right now?” when he saw your confused face he continued, “You don’t have to, you can stay of course. I was just thinking about getting some take out and then going home. And I wanted to tell you, because I don’t really know how this thing works.”

He was cute, rumbling and talking too much.

“Well my friends won’t be happy I’m leaving this soon, but I’m actually kinda hungry.”

“Okay, cool.” he didn’t think you’d actually agree, so he didn’t know what was the next plan, because he didn’t have any.

“Okay. I’m gonna tell them and meet you?”

“Sure, I’ll be in the parking lot.”

—

“So, what’s got you in this grumpy mood?” you asked Noah when you left the drive through, enough food for a family of four in your lap.

“I’m not grumpy.” he groaned.

“You’re not exactly a ray of sunshine either.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s just you could have just told me you want to be alone tonight. We don’t have to do this every single week.” lie, you wanted to do this exactly every single week. Noah wasn’t in his usual mood tonight, but he wasn’t rude to you, you just didn’t know how to act around him. You didn’t want him to feel like he had to spend the night with you, if he’d prefer being alone tonight.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight, I’m glad you left with me. One hamburger and I’ll be in a much better mood, trust me.” you laughed at his answer, but hoped it was the truth. You liked spending time with him, he was funny and it seemed like he was more himself when it was just the two of you.

Your eyes watched the streets passing by as Noah drove you somewhere.

“Where are we going? Isn’t your place in the opposite direction?”

“It is, just wait and you'll see.”

“There it is.” you pointed at his face and got him all confused about what you’re talking about.

“What?”

“The smile, you’re smiling.”

“So?”

“So? You’ve been frowning the whole night.”

“I haven’t!” he argued back, but couldn’t help the growing smile on his face.

“Liar.” you threw french fry at him, one that you secretly stole from the take away bag in your lap.

The rest of the ride was silent, you could only hear noises from outside or the radio at low volume. Noah finally stopped the car and your mouth was left hanging open.

The full city view was in front of you, you could see all of the lights under the dark sky.

“That is beautiful.” you stated.

“I know.” you saw his cocky smile.

“Is this where you take all of your girls?” you teased.

“All of my girls?” he was genuinely confused, you were the only one he was “seeing” at the moment.

“I mean when you take girls out on a date, is this where you take them? The view, good food, music. I bet that’s the move for them to fall in love with you.”

“I don’t date.” he shrugged his shoulders and dug into the bag full of food.

“Like never?” you continued eating your fries.

“Never.”

“So you never had a girlfriend?”

“When I was like sixteen? I don’t remember.” you were surprised. He is attractive, smart, has his own place and car, he’s funny and easy to be around.

“Oh, okay.” he just chuckled at your reaction.

“And you?”

“One boyfriend for 5 years.” you told him the truth. Your romantic life was never really interesting. You started dating your now ex boyfriend when you were both 18, broke up at 23 and that was it.

“That sounds serious, why did you break up?” Noah asked.

“Nothing interesting. We just wanted different things, and had different plans for the future. It was more of a friendship than a relationship in the last few months.”

“Still friends?”

“Not really, but we ended things on good terms.”

You finished your food and talked more about random things. Noah was right, after he finished his food he was in a much better mood.

You talked about everything and nothing, but you didn’t know that Noah had one question in his mind since you shared with him that you only had one boyfriend. He was building up the courage to ask, not sure how you’re going to react.

“Can I ask you something personal? You don’t have to answer.” Noah started.

You both made yourselves comfortable, pushed your seats back, folded legs under yourselves and were facing each other.

“Go ahead.” you were scared of what's going to come out of his mouth, in your sober state you didn’t like personal questions, but he wouldn’t ask anything too personal, right?

“You said you had only one boyfriend,” he shifted in his seat and you nodded at him, “does that mean that beside me he’s the only person you had sex with?”

You almost choked on your sprite after he said it out loud. It wasn’t a bad question, you just had a hard time talking about your sex life. Heat got in your face, cheeks turned 5 shades of red and you avoided eye contact.

“You don’t have to answer Ella.”

“Yes.” you answered truthfully, but still continued looking out of the window.

“Look at me.” he said, but you didn’t. “Hey, look at me.”

Noah gently took your chin in his hand and made you face him, he saw the look on your face and immediately felt bad for asking that question.

“I’m sorry I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” he said.

“It’s okay, it’s just not easy for me to talk about those things. I mean, I don’t mind the subject, but I always get like this.” you pointed to your face and finally broke a smile. Noah smiled too, relieved he didn’t make you feel bad or something.

He kept his hand on your chin and looked at your face for any signs of discomfort. When he didn’t find any, he leaned to kiss you. The kiss was slow, gentle, as if he was saying “You don’t have to feel ashamed around me.”

You kissed him back and enjoyed this slow passionate moment. After a few more kisses Noah sat back in his seat, tugging at your hand as a hint for you to crawl over the center console in his lap.

You felt the adrenaline in your body after you found a comfortable position straddling Noah’s lap. This was new for you, all of this. You and your boyfriend never did anything like this.

Noah’s hands were all over your body the second you stopped moving around, one of them grabbing you by your neck and leaning you down to meet him halfway in another kiss. This time more passionate and needy. When you pulled away to take a breath and get rid of your leather jacket, Noah looked at you and said “It’s actually kinda hot, knowing I’m the second guy you let this close to you.”

Because he suddenly felt more confident in this whole thing, he enjoyed being the one that has more experience and can show you how sex should feel.

His big hands gripped the soft skin of your ass and you let out a small moan right into the kiss. You didn’t know what’s gotten into you, but you rolled your hips against Noah’s and felt a new kind of exićitement run through your body. After you realized what you’ve done you stopped, not knowing if it was too much or not. There were layers between you two, but you felt Noah’s dick growing hard seconds after.

“Do it again.” he whispered against the skin on your neck, feeling just the same amount of pleasure from your actions as you did.

So you started moving in his lap again, feeling kinda pathetic about how good it felt. Noah pulled you in another kiss and his grip on your ass tightened. He rolled your dress up to your waist and occasionally lifted his hips from his seat to rub against you.

“Does it feel good?” he used the moment you pulled away to get some air and whispered in your ear before kissing you just under there.

“Mhm.” you just hummed instead of words, your head falling back from the ecstasy you felt was coming closer and closer.

Noah knew you were close by the way you lost control of your hands. You didn’t know where to put them, first one of them was gripping the head rest behind Noah’s head, then it slipped in his hair, then your other hand slid down on his chest because you couldn’t keep it still.

“That’s it, keep going.” he encouraged you with whispered words in your ear and couldn’t stop looking at your face. Your eyes closed, mouth open and head falling backwards every time he moved his hips too. Your movements became messy so his grip on your hips tightened to keep you going until you took a sharp breath in and squeezed Noah with your legs.

You rolled your hips against his few more times to get through the afterwave of your orgasm and then fell on his chest.

That bastard was just smiling, happy from what he just witnessed.

You snuggled into the soft skin of his neck, wanting to stay there forever due to feeling like a horny teenager that just dry humped a guy's bulge.

“That was fucking sexy.” instead of making fun of you as you expected, he growled a whisper into your ear.

That gave you enough confidence to look up at him and give him one of your shy smiles. His fingers grazed the skin of your face before he pulled you into a soft kiss.

“Let’s go to mine, huh?” he rubbed his nose along your jaw, waiting for your answer even though he knew it would be yes by the way your lips turned into an excited smile.

—

At his place, Noah didn’t waste any time and took you straight to his bedroom. He was still thrilling from the new information that he got tonight and wanted to show you just how good can sex be.

He laid you down on his bed and noticed your pink cheeks and shy smile. Cute, he thought. He knows he’s attractive, but he also usually sleeps with girls that are not new to the sex life, so they don’t react to the smallest things like you do.

He put his weight on his elbows and went for a kiss. It was slow and gentle as a signal to give you enough confidence to take the kiss in the direction you wanted it to go.

He felt your fingers graze his neck and then slowly move to his hair. He noticed you liked playing with his hair and he loved it. The different tugs and scratches you did showed him what you like without you having to say it out loud.

When he kissed you on your jaw and used his teeth a little, you always stopped moving your fingers in his hair and tugged on it. That’s how he learned lots of small things you like.

He continued kissing and teasing you, wanting to know how long it would take until you made a move.

Maybe it was Noah’s touch or his lips on your sensitive skin that made you roll your bodies over so you were straddling his lap. You saw his smirk which made you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“Hey, look at me.” he took your chin in his long tattooed fingers and lifted your head enough to see your eyes. “Don’t be shy around me, I like to see you get more confident. Don’t hide yourself from me, okay?”

It took you a few seconds before you replied “Okay.”, because you realised there was a lot you haven’t tried, but wanted to. So you appreciated Noah’s words more than he realized.

It was your turn to lean in for a kiss, using your tongue to make Noah open his mouth so you could deepen the kiss.

Your core softly, but enough for you to let out a moan, rolled over Noah’s bulge. You hid your face in the side of Noah’s face again.

“Okay look at me.” Noah had to use some of his strength to make you sit straight and look at his face. “I understand that you’re shy, but sex is about exploring and enjoyment. You obviously have a lot to explore and I want to help you with that, but you have to let me. You don’t have to hide your pleasure from me, I want to see it. And hear it.” his hands were on your thighs, thumbs gently stroking your skin to calm you down.

“I know, I just,” you sighed, mad at yourself for not finding the right words to express what you were feeling. “I guess I’m just really shy when it comes to this. Having sex was always the same ritual for me, I am getting used to all this new stuff.”

“I understand that. Is there something that I can do to help you?”

In fact there was something, but again, speaking your wants and desires was hard for you.

“Say it, I’m not gonna judge you Ella.” Noah saw the hesitation in your eyes and wanted to tell you his desires to make you feel better, but wasn’t sure if it wouldn’t have the opposite effect and scare your pure soul off.

You took a deep breath and hyped yourself as if you were asking him to marry you.

“Maybe you not looking at me would help. Like, close your eyes for the whole time.” you blurted out he almost didn’t understand you. Thank god he did, because if you had to say it out loud again, you’d rather just get up and leave.

He started smirking again, because you didn’t know what you just asked him to do was one of his very favorite things to do in bed.

“Okay.” he said and gently pushed you off of his lap and reached to his night stand. He opened the second drawer and moved a few things around until he found what he was looking for. Once he laid back on the mattress he started proposing his idea to you.

“I can put on this blindfold if that’s something that’ll make you more comfortable.” he showed you what he just took out of the drawer, a simple black blindfold. “And I’ll let you take the lead. You can explore my body, try things you’re shy to do when I can see you. You can put my hands anywhere you want me to touch you, or tell me what you want me to do. I’m all yours tonight, if that’s something you’d like to try?”

The idea alone made you clench your thighs together. He’d let you explore his body, something you’d very much appreciate.

“Okay.” you replied.

“Okay.” he said back and handed you the blindfold. “I’m yours.”

Noah laid down on his back and closed his eyes already. You kneeled next to him and before you put the soft fabric over his eyes you told him “If something makes you uncomfortable you’ll tell me, right?”, because in no way you wanted him to feel like he had to let you do anything to him.

“Of course. I trust you Ella.” and with that you lifted his head gently and put the blindfold where it’s supposed to sit.

“You can also tie my hands if you want to have full control.” he said it as a joke, but when you answered in a serious tone “No, I want you to touch me.” he knew he just woke up something inside you.

Given this opportunity, you wanted to have the full experience and take it slowly.

You leaned to capture Noah’s lips with yours. When you did, it was like a new spark between you two. He showed you he trusts you with his body and you showed him that you trust him too by agreeing to do this.

You continued kissing his soft lips and playing with his hair for a minute, getting comfortable in this familiar position before you knew what you wanted to do next.

You slowly moved your kisses from his lips to his jaw, giving him small pecks and moving in the direction of his left ear. You brushed your nose along his jaw before giving your attention fully to his ear. You bit at his earlobe a few times, adding more pressure with each bite. To erase any pain it could cause you used your tongue and licked his skin.

It seemed like suddenly you felt everything. You felt his solid chest under your hands, his breath tickling the skin on your face, his fingers twitch from time to time and the smell of his skin combined with his cologne.

You continued kissing his neck, sucking just a bit more at places where you felt his breathing change.

When you reach the fabric of his black t-shirt you said “I’m gonna take your shirt off.” in barely a whisper. He lifted himself and helped you out of the soft fabric.

You straddled his lap and your eyes scanned his chest. You always took a look at his body when you could, but this time knowing he can’t tease you about it, you let your eyes wander over his wide tattooed chest as long as they wanted to.

His arms were laying next to his body, because as he promised, he let you have the lead even with his touch on your body. You grabbed them and put his hands on your thighs and felt him give you a small encouraging squeeze. Your fingers wandered over his forearm, biceps, shoulders all the way to his chest. First you traced the lines of his tattoos, seeing goosebumps on his skin from your touch. Small things like these made your confidence shoot through the roof.

You noticed a particularly sharp breath when your fingers accidentally touched his nipple. You as a woman knew this was a sensitive part of the human body, so you wanted to know just how sensitive it is for Noah. Your fingers on both hands made small circles around his nipples and you felt another squeeze on your thighs. His pink nipples hardened under your touch and you couldn’t help yourself from leaning down and taking one of them in your mouth.

“Oh shit.” Noah whispered at the sudden hot feeling of your mouth, his mouth left hanging open.

You licked and sucked on his nipple a few more times before you moved for the other one. You felt Noah’s dick hard between your legs, his hips occasionally lifting a bit to get some fraction.

When you came back for Noah’s lips that were still open from the pleasure you just gave him, you had the perfect opportunity to slide your tongue inside his mouth. Again, he let you take the lead even when it came to kissing you, but you felt his lips turn into a smile. He was already feeling more confidence from your actions.

Your hands slid from his chest lower and lower until you reached the waistband of his jeans. You disconnected your lips and started undoing his belt. Once again he helped you to take his clothes off and when you saw him only in his underwear you realized you haven’t taken any of yours off.

Standing at the feet of his bed, you got rid of everything except your underwear and crawled back to where Noah was waiting for you.

You straddled his lap again and reached for his hands. They felt too big in your own hands, but they felt too good when you placed them on your waist. Noah’s fingers started to trace patterns in your soft skin, waitting for your next move. You moved them by his wrists all the way to your chest. He slid his thumbs over your still bra covered nipples, returning the pleasure from earlier. One of his hands grabbed you by the back of your neck as he lowered you enough for his mouth to reach your boobs. He sucked on your nipple through the thin lacy fabric and then took it between his teeth. You let out a silent moan.

“You can be louder. I know you want to be. I want to hear you, don’t hold back.” he whispered into your skin before he laid back down again.

You couldn’t help the smile on your face, even though he couldn’t see it. He made you feel things your ex boyfriend never did. He made you feel wanted.

Your attention was back on his chest, his breathing back to normal as he was waiting for your next move.

You got off his lap and kneeled between his legs. Tracing your fingers along the waistband of his black Calvin Klein’s you noticed the wet spot where the tip of his dick would be. You wanted to try to be a little tease, so you palmed him over the black thin fabric with your thumb going over his tip.

“Fuck that feels good.” the fact is, even though dirty talk makes you blush and hide your face, it also turns you on, so when you combine Noah’s words and the fact that he can’t see you? Wave of confidence.

Leaning down your hands grabbed his thighs and your tongue teased him still over the fabric. You heard another “Fuck.” mumbled under his breath.

Your nails were gently scratching his skin and your mouth planted small kisses above his underwear. You felt his dick twitch from your touch, enough for the teasing you thought.

When you pulled the black underwear down his legs, his dick was hard and red. You took a moment to take the sight in, Noah laying as vulnerable as someone can be in front of you. He looked hot, even when he was laying still, silently calling for your touch, he was the most attractive guy you ever laid your eyes on.

You laid on your front between his legs and reached for his hard cock. You licked a stripe from the base to the tip, a few drops of precum landing on your tongue.

“Yeah, that’s it.” he groaned out, happier than ever to finally being touched there.

You stroked his shaft a few times, watching his facial reaction. His mouth was open, his chest going up and down and his hands were gripping the sheets.

When his precum wasn’t enough you took him in your mouth, slowly. Noah let out moans and grunts, feeling the warmth of your mouth was almost enough to finish him.

You let your saliva drip on him, making it easier for you to slide your hand up and down. When you didn’t have him in your mouth, your lips were grazing over the skin of his thighs, gently placing kisses there. You were experimenting with the pace, changing it from slow to fast to slow again.

“Fuck, don’t stop!” his breathing became quicker with every move of your hand. You took him in your mouth again, enjoying the feeling of him filling your mouth. When you flattened your tongue and smacked the tip of his swollen dick on it, he let out a sound that went straight between your thighs.

You continued the movement of your hand in steady pace, watching his face as he was getting closer and closer.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop!” he begged you, “I’m so close!” he moaned and seconds after that you felt hot liquid on your hand that made you look down.

You gave him a few more strokes before you stopped, watching the mess he made on his tummy and on your hand.

“Fuckin hell.” he let out a sigh of satisfaction, his dick still twiching from the intense orgasm. “Come here.” he reached for you with his hand and you crawled to face him.

He pulled you in for a kiss, messy and needy one.

“Let me clean you up.” you whispered against his lips and ran to his bathroom to wash your hand and then get some towel to wash the mess he made over himself.

“Are you okay? Do you want to continue?” Noah asked you when you came back from his bathroom.

“Yeah, I do. Do you?” you asked him back.

“Fuck yeah.” he was so turned on by this whole blindfold thing, he was ready to continue.

You just chuckled at his reaction and threw the wet towel on the floor after you were done.

You didn’t really know what to do, so you laid yourself on Noah’s chest and started kissing him again.

You were wet and ready to be touched by him.

After a while you started to be impatient and rubbed yourself over his dick just like you did in the car earlier.

“I know what you want, but I want you to ask for it. Put my hands where you want them.” he whispered between kisses.

It took you a few seconds of talking to yourself before you took one of his hands and slid it between your thighs.

Noah’s fingers teased you over your lacy panties, enjoying the whimpers he got from you in response.

“Noah.” you moaned. You were so worked up from this whole thing, you were sure you could come just from these gentle touches.

“Yeah? Let’s take these off.” he helped you take off your panties.

His hand was back between your legs, spreading your folds and teasing your entrance. You laid your head on his chest and moved your hips, desperate to get more from him.

“That’s it, ride my hand.” he encouraged you to move your hips again. His thumb found your clit with the right amount of pressure and his fingers continued to tease you.

“Good job, keep going.” he slid one of his fingers inside with ease given how wet you were.

You let yourself be louder with your moans, thinking his chest will muffle the sounds, but Noah could hear you pretty clearly. Your moans and the grip you had on his biceps made him hard again and he wasn’t far from letting his moans slip as well.

“You’re so sexy.” he felt you squeeze his fingers after he whispered more dirty things in your ear, smirking to himself.

“You like when I talk you through it don’t you?” he felt you squeeze him again, enough for him as an answer.

“Noah, fuck!” by the way you moaned his name and quickened the pace of your hip movements he knew you were close, so he slipped second finger in, giving you the right angle of his hand so after a few more rolls of your hips you reached your orgasm.

You stayed laying on Noah’s chest as his fingers made their way from your core to your mouth, leaving a wet trail on your side where he dragged them until he reached your lips and pushed them open. You licked his fingers clean, tasting yourself.

Noah couldn’t see you, but that didn’t stop his imagination and the groan from his throat.

“Everything okay? Can we continue?” he asked again, not sure if this wasn’t enough for you to stop for tonight.

“Yes.” you whispered.

“Is there a position you want to try?” his question surprised you.

“I don’t know.” you answered truthfully.

“What position feels the best for you?”

“I don’t know, I usually don’t reach orgasm from penetration.” you shrugged your shoulders. Noah still had the blindfold on so it was easier for you to confess.

“That’s okay, that’s normal.” he kissed your forehead, “You can tell me if you want to be on top. Or if you want me to take it off and take the lead from now. Huh?”

“Nah, you keep it on.” you ran your fingers along the fabric over his eyes.

“Looks like someone is enjoying themselves.” Noah laughed in a sincere way.

“Maybe.” you ran your finger down his nose and lips. You grabbed his chin and turned his head so you could kiss him. You sat properly on his lap without breaking the kiss.

“Can you move a bit so your back is against the headboard?” you whispered against his lips, already sure of what position you want.

Noah did what you asked him without asking any questions, his back against the headboard so he was in a more sitting position. You wanted to be on top, but also wanted to be close to him. You took your bra off and guided his hands to touch you there.

Your sudden act of confidence made him feral, he bit your lower lip and squeezed your tits.

When his thumbs found your nipples again, your head fell again in a bliss which gave him enough space to move his kisses to your neck and then to your chest.

He played with your skin, kissing, sucking and biting to get more moans from you.

When he felt your hips move, your wetness covering his dick and the silent moan of his name he told you where to find condoms in his night stand.

“Oh fuck!” Noah groaned when you slid down his dick, your mouth left open from the stretch.

Noah’s mouth immediately went for your neck while you enjoyed the feeling of being full.

When you started moving you felt Noah bite your skin. You haven’t tried much in this position so far in your intimate life, so you tried different moves.

First you were just slowly rolling your hips forwards and backwards. Noah encouraged you with his hands on your ass and “That feels so good.” in your ear every few seconds.

Then you grabbed his shoulders to stabilize yourself and moved up and down, enjoying every moan that left Noah’s throat when you bottomed him out. His head was resting on the headboard so you could watch his face every time you repeated your moves.

You enjoyed trying all the ways you can move your hips in this position, until you found a rhythm that felt the best for you. From then it was just a messy pace and hands all over each other. Your kisses went from slow and gentle to rushed and messy. Your fingers were scratching Noah’s back, leaving red scars there for sure. Meanwhile Noah licked his own fingers and slid them between your bodies to touch your clit.

Movement of his fingers became messy too the closer you got him to the second orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum!” he said through gritted teeth, the squeeze of his hand on your ass proving his point.

The state he was in sent a wave of pleasure through your body. He was under you, with a blindfold over his eyes, mouth open and only moans slipping out. His hair was a mess and his skin was sweaty.

You were in your own bubble admiring the man under you, you didn’t even realize the warmth between your legs. Noah’s loud moan brought you back and you rode him through the aftershock of his orgasm.

His hand was still on your clit and as you felt your own climax approaching you reached for the black fabric that was covering Noah’s eyes and took it off.

Something inside you wanted him to see you when you come around his dick, with his hand on your clit and you on top of him. You wanted him to see it.

His brown soft eyes looking up at you with mouth open in shock but with admiration was what you needed to fall over the edge. Your head fell backwards, your breathing stopped for a second and you were sure you were seeing stars.

When you looked at Noah again, his smirk was all over his stupid pretty face. He didn’t have to say anything, it was all written all over his face.

You both cleaned yourselves up and changed into sleeping clothes. Noah brought you a glass of water from his kitchen and lifted his blanket for you to lay down.

You wanted to thank him, but didn’t know if it was appropriate or how to do it. Thankfully, like if he knew what was going on your mind, he spoke up first.

“It was nice seeing you come out of your shell tonight.” you hid the lower half of your face under the blanket even though he couldn’t see you anymore. The lights were turned off and you were both laying on your backs.

“Thank you.” your words were muffled by the blanket and Noah chuckled at your shyness.

He changed his position to lay on his side, the dim street lights allowing him to see only features of your face.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. Sex should be fun. I’ll wear the blindfold more often if it brings out your deepest kinks and desires.” he joked, enjoying the face you make every time he says something like this. You hid yourself completely under the blanket, but couldn’t help the laugh that was coming out of your mouth.

“Shut up.” you slapped his chest and turned to lay on your chest to face him.

“Okay, I’m done with teasing you for today.” he did as he promised.

You didn’t fall asleep straight away, Noah asked you about your first and last relationship, this time in a serious way. You asked him about not having a relationship ever.

You got to know each other a bit better that night, moving your friendship to another level.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

Taglist: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @justcarrie @koskeepsake @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades @n0n3xsisting @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @athenexe @tashka @badomensls

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[captain-huggy-bear]

With my PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) I take a ton of supplements like inositol and multivits and my most hated chore is putting my weeks worth in my pill organiser, even though its better than finding them all out in the morning from separate places. I feel like Clay does little things to make your life easier especially if they're little chores you hate. I also feel like he's a super supportive partner when you have a condition or illness, whether its changing his diet/lifestyle to help or just reminding you of things.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You wander around almost the entire house trying to find Clay to no avail. It's the middle of the day and you've checked all his usual midday spots. The kitchen where he'd be eating lunch, the living room with a game on for him to study, the garden with Lucky, but still no Clay.

You reach the bottom of the stairs, frowning up them before shouting out his name. It's unusual for Clay to be upstairs during the day, but not out of the realm of possibility.

"Clay?"

You wait a few beats before you hear his voice calling back. Loud enough for you to hear like he knew you were near the stairs and not just down the corridor, knowing Clay he probably did. He had a strangely good judgement on sound direction and distance.

"In the bedroom, baby!"

You make your way up the stairs and down the corridor, stopping in the doorway of your shared bedroom to see him hunched over your weekly pill organiser. His large hands fiddling with pouring out the right number of each of your supplements for your PCOS, occasionally dropping a few on the vanity and swearing, especially some of the tinier ones. He's focused, meticulous, each day being done in order, both morning and night.

"Clay? What are you doing?" You take a step further into the room.

"Sorting your pills for you." You can see that but it still doesn't make sense to you. They're your pills, you always organise them, even though you hate doing it. Clay's never done it before, you've never asked him too, he's busy enough with the season as it is.

"Why?"

Clay stops what he's doing, closing the last compartment on your pill organiser and looking up at you with a confused look, brow, the one that's still scarred from the puck to the face, lifting.

"Baby, you hate doing it." He says it so matter of fact, like that answers your question, as he stands and starts making his way towards you, a few long strides closing the distance.

"Okay?"

"So I figured I could sort it out before I have to leave for the roadie this week, that way you don't have to worry about it." It's really sweet but also puts an odd sort of panic through you, a fear that he feels like he has to do this, like he feels forced to.

"You don't have to do that, I'll do it." You try to insist even when it's obvious he's finished sorting it for the week, even as he smiles at you with a patient sort of amusement. The sort reserved for someone who's being silly but endearingly silly.

"Sweetheart, I want to do it." Clay tugs you towards him by the hands until you're in his arms, his palms resting on your lower back.

"But..."

He cuts you off, forehead pressing into your own, eyes half-lidded, a soft sort of smile directed at you. He loves you and he wants you to understand that this isn't a chore for him, it's something he wants to do for you, something he takes a certain pride in. Something he wished he'd been doing from the start, rather than just thinking to do it now. He likes taking care of you.

"I want to make your life easier...you're already dealing with your PCOS. The last thing I want is for you to get stressed out about sorting your pills out or forget to do it." He sees the strain you're under, the stress of trying to eat right for your body, to follow a million and one rules just to manage your symptoms and keep your body from fighting you. How you fight with your body dysmorphia on bad days. The last thing Clay wants is you to have to worry about something he can help with. He can't fix everything, he can't take your PCOS away or make your body work for you the way you want it to. But, he can do this.

"...Thank you..." You whisper it close enough to his lips that your breath is warm against them and he has to resist the urge to kiss you before he can respond because Clay's not done yet.

"Baby, I love you...you don't need to thank me for taking care of you." He knows you often feel like a burden, some leftover from your childhood, where you grew to feel like your needs were too much. Like you had to be thankful always in order to keep someone around. He hates it because he doesn't need thanks for looking after you, for loving you. He just does it.

"I know. Still, thank you. I love you...even if you didn't do this sort of thing, Clay, I'd still love you."

"I know, sweet girl."

This time he does kiss you, mouth slanting over yours for a deep kiss as his hands slip to your arse. He can't always be there. His work gets in the way, but things like this? Taking care of your pills or making sure the food in the house is the stuff you can eat? That he can do and it's his way of making sure you're taken care of, of saying he loves you without having to say it.

[mrstellmeafuckingsecret]

fic req ! send them here

@rechedeer uhh i tried. (i'm bad at dialogue) (ignore how late i am) (and that i ignored your prompt and just winged it with vibes)

“It’s not that funny,” James deadpanned as Sirius held his stomach, laughing.

“It’s really not funny at all,” James said miserably, pulling Sirius back from the edge of the bed.

“Oh my God,” Sirius gasped between laughs, “oh that made my entire week–”

In any other situation, James would’ve been entranced by the sight – Sirius’ head in his lap, the pink dusted on his cheek bones, lips stretched in a smile, hair draped on James’ legs – in any other situation but this.

“Your brother having a crush on me is not funny, Sirius!” James despaired, hands in his hair. Sirius cackled. 

The dreaded day came at the worst possible time. 13th February. 

James closed his eyes, dread pooling in his gut when he noticed the younger Black brother marched forward to him. Let this be a dream, he pleaded internally, let him be swallowed alive by Hogwarts itself. Or turned into a cat and adopted by McGonagall. Anything but this.

Regulus Black was not, in fact, swallowed alive by Hogwarts, and instead stood very much unswallowed and human in front of him with the haughty, arrogant look he’d never managed to perfect.

“I have the morbid feeling I already know what you’re going to say,” James muttered.

Regulus cocked a brow, crossing his arms. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Get on with it.” 

Regulus straightened up, like a kid getting ready to give a presentation, “I like you,” he declared, “You should go out with me.”

James didn’t even have time to process his audacity – who was he to order James Potter around? – before Sirius burst into laughter by his side.

“Oh, wonderful, I have an audience,” James muttered.

“Oh my God, is it happening?” Sirius asked gleefully, “Should I prepare a pensieve to rewatch this every night?”

“Shut it.” Regulus hissed, “I’m in the middle of a conversation!”

“I’m taken,” James reminded.

“So?” Regulus asked, hands on his hips.

“By your brother!”

“Is there a point to this?”

James groaned, messing up his hair, “This is insane, you can’t expect me to leave Sirius for you, can you?”

“You’d be insane not to!” Regulus stomped his foot – Merlin’s balls, he’s a walking cliche. “I know my worth. As tragic as your choices in partners are, you should be able to see that I am clearly the better candidate!”

James looked blankly at Sirius, who had a hand covering his face, smiling underneath. Oh my God he’s so pretty. How does Regulus think himself to be in the same realm as him?

Forcibly looking away from Sirius, James faced the beast ahead. 

“I think you know what my answer is going to be,” James said.

Regulus rolled his eyes, obviously butthurt, “Fine, then, enjoy your life mediocrity,” he snapped, turning on his heel with all the grace of a Shakespearean villain and marching away.

“I made it out alive,” James exhaled, turning to Sirius.

“Now you’re valentine-less,” Sirius mused, sauntering over to his side.

“You won’t ask me?”

“Obviously not, Potter,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to James’ cheek, “Have some dignity.”

[taylorsfolkmoredress]

Here’s my second Derek Morgan request! Reader is also a BAU agent whose hotel room is right next to Derek’s during a case. She’s the newest addition to the team, so she’s still getting used to the intensity of their cases. Derek can tell she’s been struggling a bit lately, but he doesn’t pry until she comes knocking on his door at the ass crack of dawn cuz she can’t sleep and doesn’t wanna be alone.

Oh this is so cute I hope tumblr lets me write this one lmao!

wc: 956

tags: hurt/comfort, could be read as platonic or developing romance. not dialogue heavy but still sweet, also not as long as i wanted but its 7am and i havent slept yet :)

not edited!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

A soft knock at his hotel door pulled Derek from his dreams of soft hair and gentle words. It took him a second to understand that he had to get up to answer the door, but when he did, he made his way to the door in nothing but a pair of loose sleep pants and a well worn muscle tee that had thinned with time.

When he pulled the door open he was met with your teary face, quivering lips tugging at his heartstrings like nothing else ever had. You looked like the utter definition of the phrase “I need a hug”, and he could do nothing else but pull your soft body into his wrapping his strong arms around you in a tight, but not constricting, hug. He felt you tense for a second, but almost immediately after, you completely relax in his arms, going near boneless as the tension from the day leaves your body.

Derek hadn’t yet had the pleasure of holding you like this, the way friends do, the way people who know each other better than anyone do. He’s glad he’s one of those people, glad he’s already learned so many little tells of yours.

It started on the third day of the case. The unsub had already killed again, and they had had good reason to suspect he’d taken his newest victim already as well. The case had been particularly close to your home town, only an hours drive away, and it was clear it was freaking you out.

It would’ve freaked Derek out as well, he didn’t blame you, but he knew the feeling must be much more intense due to your inexperience in the field. You’d only joined the BAU two months prior, and every case you’d worked since seemed to weigh down your spirit more and more. He hated seeing it. You somehow retained your beautiful smile every day, but this case was too much, and he saw the mask crack from a mile away.

Which lead to now. The case wrapped up mere hours ago, two more victims dead, one injured but looking towards recovery. It wasn’t the result anyone hoped for, but it was the one you would all have to live with.

He made sure to keep his arms secure around you while he pulled you into his room, knowing you didn’t want anyone else seeing this side of you. Your shoulder trembled against his chest and it made his heart ache. He hated seeing you cry, you were so damn sweet, he couldn’t handle your tears.

His own words hit his ears before he even realized he was speaking. “Sweetheart, it’s ok, I’m here, I’ve got you.” His words were soft, murmured against your hair, but still audible. They caused a heaving gasp against his chest, and a whole new wave of tears to fall. He made no move to stop them, knowing that what you needed in that moment was to release those emotions you’d tried to keep locked away all week. It was a feeling he knew all too well.

The couch was soft when he set you down on it, moving to kneel in front of you so he can continue holding you. He presses his cheek to your temple, letting out soft reassurances and gently humming occasionally. He held you like that for a while, but he didn’t watch the time. It wasn’t important to him, all he cared about was knowing you were okay.

You were a brilliant agent, a fresh set of eyes that never failed to offer insight far above your supposed experience level. It made him feel a strange sense of pride when your observations lead to a breakthrough in cases. Beyond that, you were someone he already loved spending time with. The two of you had clicked immediately, much to everyone’s surprise. You were quite shy, timid even, and Derek was the exact opposite. Maybe thats what made you gravitate towards each other so easily. He didn’t know. What he did know was that He’d heard you crying through the thin hotel walls every night for 3 days straight, and he finally had a chance to help without feeling like he was backing you into a corner.

He gently ran his hands up and down your back and arms, doing his best to ground you and help you to calm down. Each sob became slower and slower, before turning into soft hiccups. He feels you tense for a moment as you come back to yourself, but he feels you relax from exhaustion just as quickly. He takes that as his cue to speak, not letting you overthink anything.

“Hey, pretty girl, listen to me. Okay?” He waits for your small nod before continuing. “You did amazing out there this week, and we couldn’t have found this creep without you. You protected the people in the community. I know it’s hard, but each and every one of us on this team has been in your shoes. We’ve all felt that same dread, that same fear. That same abhorrence for opening our eyes in the morning or closing them at night. But you’re meant for this job the way you handle the victims families, and you always treat the victims with such grace and dignity? It’s beautiful. I can’t see you lose that.” His words seemed to settle something inside you. You pulled away from him, but not out of sadness, you pulled away with a look of determination, albeit a tired one.

He knew you weren’t okay yet, but as he lead you to his bed and got you comfortable before moving to the couch himself, he knew that you would be, one day.

[silverprism-s]

to save a soul

this is just gonna be me yapping about the itasuku post canon/canon divergent fic that has been brewing in the back of my mind because im not sure if i'll ever write it. a mix of just general yap and some snippets. its not really itasuku in a romantic sense, but perhaps it could be...

~1.4k words, 1/?

the meat of this is that at the final moment Sukuna lets Yuji take him in. Yuji will get a chance to finally save him like he wanted to, like he wanted to do with everyone, but then things proceed pretty much the same, Yuji doesn't hear from Sukuna, he doesn't show up or do anything. No tricks, no complaints, just silence.

Yuji begins to wonder if Sukuna was ever there at all, if maybe he really did just fade away into dust. He and Megumi and Nobara all grow closer in the resulting time spent together, jujutsu society starts licking its wounds and building itself back up in a better, less lonely way. Things are going well, great even. Yuji is on a mission with Nobara and one of the new first years, they're probably third year students now, on the cusp of graduating. A lot has changed in his life, but it feels like he's missing something.

Nobara and the other kid are on the other side of the building fighting a curse that spits out a ton of small weak curses. The kid is strong, Nobara is capable, so Yuji was going deeper into the building to pound down the stronger main curse. He's exchanging blows, and dealing a significant amount of damage when all of a sudden he hears a too familiar voice, and the feeling in his cheek drains away. It had just been hit and had been throbbing.

"What is this trash?"

The presence is weak and yet heavy, disproportionate to the way Yuji feels his heart beating out of his chest. His chest is already heaving, this curse was giving him quite the workout.

"Sukuna?"

"What, brat?"

"Hah, I thought you were gone," Yuji wheezed out as he dodged another swipe from the curse. It's arms were evolving into something sharp, dangerous. An adaptable beast, oozing out feelings of hatred. "Welcome back," he punctuated his words with a black flash, the thrill of the heat and the excited pounding in his chest forcing a grin onto his face.

"I don't need a welcome from someone as weak as you," that rattling, growling voice answered, and the numbness in his cheek faded as quickly as it had appeared.

"Don't get shy on me now, Sukuna," Yuji complained as he nailed the curse with another black flash.

The curse's body quaked beneath the force, its disgusting skin cracking open. Bright green liquid splashed out, flecks of it coating Yuji's face. Irritating but nothing compared to that winter. Another hit, no black flash this time, just raw cursed energy, has it swelling up and bursting. Yuji just barely covers his face in time. In the back of his mind, he feels a roiling satisfaction at the exorcism that he's never felt before. It boils and burns and yet is warm, comfortable.

"Shit, that's new," Yuji remarks to empty air.

The source of the warmth must be from Sukuna. Yuji has never felt this way in the years that he's been a sorcerer. If not for the small, immutable spark simmering, Yuji would almost wonder if Sukuna's appearance had just been a trick of his mind.

He'd expected him to show up again by now. It's been weeks, he's even done at dozen missions since. Nothing. The small spark remains, that piece of cursed energy that felt both familiar and unfamiliar. A piece of himself, and yet not. This wasn't new, Sukuna had lived in Yuji for at least half a year. Really, for longer, since apparently Sukuna has been here for the past two years. Yuji doesn't feel Sukuna since that mission last month until he's visiting Gojo's grave. Somewhere along the way, it became a habit. To visit Gojo's grave, and his grandfather's.

They weren't in the same place, so he usually visited about a week apart, depending on how busy it was. As he was standing there, allowing the bitter winter wind to nip at his face, Yuji felt his cheek slowly growing numb again. Not the one facing the wind. That was how he knew.

"What a disappointment," that once careful voice rumbled out. It didn't feel sincere. "We could've had so much more fun."

It was one thing to have the ire of Sukuna directed towards himself. Yuji could tolerate that. He could roll with it, take it. Gojo couldn't be here to defend himself though.

"Funny. You say that, but I remember how you talked to him after cutting him in half. That didn't sound like someone who was disappointed."

"Tch. Brat."

And then he was gone again. It was just Yuji, the bitter wind, and his sensei's grave. There hadn't been any bite in Sukuna's words, like there used to be. The insults rang strangely hollow.

Things continued that way for awhile. Sukuna would show up when Yuji was alone to insult either him or something that caught his eye. Something like a picture of Megumi and Nobara, his homework going over the Heian era history, which Yuji was quickly learning hadn't been recorded properly, if Sukuna was telling him the truth. He'd spend time complaining about specific generals or curses. Never spoke about his own life though.

"It sounds like you were really bothered by this guy," Yuji answered as he noted down the things Sukuna was saying in shorthand.

"Nonsense. He was still a weakling, a mere gnat. I quashed him."

"Right, I have the year written here."

"That's wrong. They're two years too late."

"Two? Seriously?"

The feeling in Yuji's cheek quickly returned as Sukuna's mouth and eye disappeared, closing away. Immediately after, as he was rubbing at the scarred skin, Megumi knocked at his door, entering the room. His blue eyes were darting around the room quizzically.

"Who were you just talking to? I heard two voices?"

Shit. Yuji hadn't said anything about how Sukuna had remained. It hadn't crossed his mind before now. Yuji's stomach curled with the secret.

"Oh, I was, uh, I got a call from the window from our last mission," Yuji lied quickly. Megumi didn't really look convinced but it seemed to work, dragging his focus away from what Yuji had been talking to before he walked in the room and the conversation moved into something else. It was a relief.

"He seems weaker."

"Who?"

Sukuna first answered with a rumbling growl, one that Yuji could feel in his bones. Then: "Fushiguro Megumi." Yuji simply hummed in response, flipping the page in the latest WSJ magazine. "Why? are all sorcerers in this generation soft now?"

"Sure," Yuji agreed as he sat up slightly. This week's update was getting exciting. If only Sukuna would leave him alone and stop chattering.

"Hmph. How boring. At least you seem to have kept up your skills."

And, that was weird. Sukuna complimenting Yuji was weird. How could he go from insulting Yuji's whole being whenever given the chance to complimenting him in a single afternoon?

"Er, thanks."

Sukuna was dissatisfied with this response, frowning with his small mouth before disappearing again. God this was fucking weird. He should tell someone, shouldn't he?

The next thing that changed was Yuji's dreams. The atmosphere felt more real, and also more distant from reality. Similar to the moment he had with Sukuna all those years ago. There were never any people, he could wander the whole school campus and see no one. Leaving to go into the city of Tokyo didn't change that. All of it was empty, but everything was still functional. The trains would still run, you could still pick up food from the food stands. Yuji felt bad just taking it, so he'd leave money for them on the register. Maybe it mattered, maybe it didn't.

Sukuna was never around in these dreams, physically. Not like that day. Sometimes Yuji could feel his presence in his mind, lurking. That was unsettling. He wondered how long until Sukuna would actually show up. There was a feeling that... he could, he was just choosing not to. Or perhaps he wasn't strong enough to show up.

Yuji tried to ask, once, but Sukuna's mouth and eye disappeared immediately, and he didn't show up again for a week, leaving Yuji's dreams feeling even more hollow then before.

to be continued, most likely... :3 i'd love to chat about this if you find it interesting, please feel free to comment, rb or send asks~!

[comfortlesshurt]

i'm on my bullshit again!

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Finally properly sobbing after not being able to cry all day is such a great feeling

[adore-gregor]

my perception of grades totally changed since i started uni

[tojisteddy]

Cry Baby | 1.4k words (gawd damn), 18+ mdni, smut with a little plot, dacryphilia, daddy kink

Simon Riley is used to making people cry.

Whether it be from heartbreak, his tall and muscular build in addition to the mask scaring children, from being too blunt, cursing men & women out, making them feel too good when he’s stuffed them full of his cock— he was used to the tears.

But you, you were an anomaly.

Sometimes you’d cry when Simon was being too mean, cry over a good movie— tears would brim to your lashes when he’d kiss you after you two would make up because you were stupid in love with the brute. But sometimes you’d hold it. A trait that Simon hated because it was like he was dealing with a different person.

He knew you were off when the two of you went shopping (for your closet of course) and you didn’t say much except ‘I like whatever you like Si.’ You’d be in and out of conversation, ‘hm?’ and ‘what’d ya say?’ constantly leaving your mouth. He’d already known you we’re past your limit, but you wouldn’t say a word. Usually by the first or second day you’d fess up on your own, voice horse, gripping at his shirt, big brown eyes averting his own because you were too embarrassed. ‘can we- can we talk? just for a bit?’

His cute princess.

But now, a week had passed. He expected to hear those heart aching sobs after he heard you telling off your younger German shepherd, Fish (yes, Fish) to ‘let go’ and ‘it’s mine, Fish!’ He’d found the dog with your favorite worn out sweater, now ripped and tattered, in his mouth as he laid on the couch. Not a peep came from your lips. So the man was forced to push you to talk. Not an issue. He’d done it before.

“Got somethin’ y’wanna say t’me?”

You glanced over at the older man. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest and looking at you dead on. You shifted on your feet. You hated when he stared, it was like he was reading you like a book and tarring out the pages for good keeping.

You went back to getting the dog food ready for their last meal of the day, “nope.”

Stubborn. Simon found it funny sometimes when you picked up some of his traits, that included that stubbornness that popped out when you were agitated. But you weren’t supposed to be like Daddy, no, you’re supposed to be better. Simon would make you better.

“Don’t be hard headed swee’ art. Y’know better.”

He’d practically pushed you into a corner with his words alone. It wasn’t just intimidation, it was a clear warning. You needed out. So you spoke whatever words were at the forefront of your mind.

“Then I just don’t have anythin to say to you.”

The man was dumbfounded, head tilting to the side in awe. He didn’t expect that answer of all things and you casually went to go feed the dogs like you hadn’t said anything. A deep chuckle fills the silent walls of the kitchen.

Cute little thing. Loveable thing. His babygirl.

You didn’t wanna cry? Didn’t wanna talk? Fine.

Simon would fuck it out of you.

“Wait- hmph- w-wait Daddy I don’t-“

“Y’talk now? Thaaa’s a shocker.”

“No- I- s’tooooo much Daddy! I don’t like it like-nnnggh this!”

Simon rolled his eyes, of course you didn’t like it. It was when you felt undeniable, inescapable pleasure. He’d have you in a headlock, all of his weight completely pressed against you, rolling his hips as his girth stretched out your sweet pink walls. The room was completely filled with your moans and the smacking of his balls hitting your ass as he bottomed out with each stroke.

How many times had you cum already?

It didn’t fucking matter if tears weren’t coming out yet. And he wasn’t just aiming for those regular small ‘feel good’ tears, he needed those belligerent sobs that made your throat hurt. The blonde liked to call it ‘regulating emotions.’ When you couldn’t do it yourself of course Daddy would help. What else was he there for?

Your eyes were at the back of your skull, long manicured nails clawing at his arm and trying to get ahold of yourself. You felt delirious and you’d only cum twice but Simon kept pushing you like he wanted something out of you. The truth, you shook your head at your own thoughts. No way, you were fine. This was— god, the bastard, the ghost himself was dragging himself in and out of you, in and out, harsh and slow. Just so you could hear the squelching of your sopping cunt and get you completely embarrassed and moaning at the sound.

“Si- let’s- a break— mmmgghhh- we- oh fuck daddy- break? annngh p-please?” You whined out.

“ ‘Nd why would y’need a break when you’ve been a lazy fuckin bitch this whole time?”

A military man who could lie in an instant.

He hadn’t told you to do a single thing tonight but he needed a reaction out of you. He scuffed, pulling his strawberry red dick out of you with a loud ‘pop’ and turning you on your side. Throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and straddling your other thigh. He slapped his aching tip on your drenched hole, there you were clenching over nothing.

“Didn’t wanna talk this whole time but now ya got shit to say.” Simon slammed every fucking inch of him inside of your oh-so tight cunt making him throw his head back. “The fuckin nerve of ya.”

“I- wait-“

“-Thought ya were my good girl, but you’re just a stupid slut for daddy’s cock.”

A hiccup.

He looked down at your pretty face and- oh. there it was. There it fuckin was. That sickeningly adorable trembling pout on your two tone lips, real tears spilling out of your eye ducts and meeting the pillow as he repeatedly slammed into your gushing walls. Was it sick for him to crave it? Yes. But the big guy couldn’t help himself, he loved seeing pretty girls cry for him. Even better when he had a good reason to get it out of you. You felt the knots in your stomach building, even worse as Simon pressed a hand on your stomach as his dick poked out. A string of grumbled curses leaving his mouth at the feel of it.

You gasped, pushing at his abdomen, “Daddy nooo- it’s really too much! I- I-”

“—Nuh-uh. Stop fightin it and give it t’me. Give. It. To. Me.”

Your orgasm was harshly yanked out of you, screaming at the top of your lungs— thank fuck you two lived in the middle of the woods. You’d finally let that week old sob out of your throat, fat salty tears spilling out at everything because you really did feel everything at the moment. All the sadness was now washing over you like a wave mixed along with the high of cumming. An insane combination.

“Therrrre you go pup. Creaming all over me, all while bein so. damn. pretty. Want my cum baby girl? Hmm? Shit baby, you wanna feel full with Daddy?”

You couldn’t even find your words, just pulling at his hips to feel him deeper inside you. And it was so warm, so- loving when he came inside you, Simon making sure you took every drop till you couldn’t anymore. He cupped your face in his big hands, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. So fuckin cute. He’d sit you up, still on his cock of course, leaning back with his propped up arms and peering down at you.

“Gonna tell me what’s wrong or it’s still not for your Daddy t’hear?”

You sniffed, big brown puppy dog eyes looking up at the man full of scars.

“E-everyone-“ you let out a shaky breath, “everyone’s so damn mean Si.”

And you went on and on about your completely shitty week, from your job, to missing the train right when you needed it to Fish ripping apart your favorite fucking sweater. And Simon was there, attentive but silent, listening to every word uttered. Wiping away the stray tears with a thumb and pinching your cheek. His silly girl, adorable princess. Held it in for nothing, as if he wouldn’t be there to comfort you. Silly, silly girl. He’d fix that too, but for now—

“Want me t’take care of ya? Hm lovie?” His lips met yours, fitting the two like a missing puzzle piece. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing the blonde man closer and pressing yourself against him. You didn’t say a word. You didn’t have to.

He snickered against your lips, “Course ya do, baby, course ya fuckin do.”

a/n: kinda on Simon kick. Also the gaggery of my last post about him. Thank you guys so much. You probably won’t read this again but reading while listening to Cry Baby by SZA or Janis Joplin>>>

most recent masterlist

[hoshiros]

—✯ TRY IT, BITE IT, LICK IT, SPIT IT

cw. 18+ mdni. all chars 20+, pro-player!rin, afab!reader, oral (f!receiving), praise, petnames, established relationship, inspired by that one leaked panel of rin because what the hell

When ITOSHI RIN wins a game, your face is always the first one he wants to see.

Oftentimes, he'll search for you in the crowd with your embarrassingly noisy neon poster boards cheering him on. Other times, you'll already be waiting for him at the gates with your arms opened wide for him to run into.

For the last four weeks, though, he’s had to suffer the agony of your absence.

Rin called you incessantly while in France, reminding you of how many days separated him from being in your arms. "Wait for me. I'll be home soon," he said. "And be good," he'd add on, almost cheekily.

His promises were always sincere and lethally calculated. He wanted you to need him so badly that you'd fall apart on his tongue in minutes. Then he'd do it again, and again, and again, until he was satisfied.

When he finally came home, you barely had time to breathe before his lips were crashing into yours. You wanted to ask him if his flight was alright, if he had dinner yet, but then he licked himself into your mouth and the entire thought vanished.

And now you're being devoured by a monster.

Rin's been between your legs for so long that you're dizzy, head airy and light as he fucks into you with his tongue.

"Stay still," he warns sharply, words muffled as he stuffs his face closer into your sopping cunt. His warning is followed with his hands circling around your thighs, palms flat against the skin and leaving seas of heat along it.

You whine pathetically when he presses your hips down into the mattress, forcing you to be still for him.

"Can't—" you choke, spine curling from the bed so far that your head tilts backward. "Slow down, Rin!"

"Slow down?" He murmurs roughly. Rin furrows his brows, like he genuinely can't comprehend your request. "Actin' like it's your first time," he mocks, finishing his sentence by wrapping his lips around your clit.

You squeal, hand shooting down to shove his head back. He almost laughs when your weak attempt only pushes the bangs out of his eyes, giving him an even better view of you.

Rin pulls back enough to click his tongue, amused by your squirming but equally frustrated at your protests. He draws away from you. You feel cold as he does, the space he occupied suddenly devoid of his warmth.

"M'sorry princess," he coos, trying to coax you into relaxing. Peppering light kisses up your thigh until he gets to the spot resting on his shoulder, Rin can feel every shiver as you recover. "Too rough?"

You take a moment to catch your breath, waves of overstimulation crashing in your stomach. Finally, your gaze slowly drifts down to him, roaming over his face.

Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight.

Sweat gleams across his forehead, stray strands of hair stuck to the skin as he also finds his breath. The entire bottom half of his face is so wet. You did that. You did.

"Hmm?" Rin hums, trying to get an answer. He looks so fucking cocky. So hungry. His tongue runs across his lips as if he can't stand not tasting you for even a second longer.

You shake your head, fingers still in his hair tugging lightly until he groans. "I can take it," you sniffle, guiding him back down closer to your heat.

"I know, baby. You're so good."

Rin dives back in as if he's starving for you, lathering your cunt in rough, long licks until you're shuddering. His hands travel down to the base of your thighs once again, pulling your body closer so that he can finish his meal.

You cry out softly, aching hole desperately trying to squeeze his tongue. He was the one who was so good to you. You dare to gaze at him again, just to admire his beautiful face.

Your breath hitches.

Rin has that same look on his face as he does on a football field—like a winner chasing a goal he knows he'll always get.

[specsthesecond]

Being a waitress/bottle girl at a club that caters to monsters.

While serving a table of orcs their drinks you hear whistling from behind you and turn towards the table of werewolves calling you over,

"C'mere Doll, why don't you spend some time with us? It'd be better than looking at those ugly green faces."

The rest of the table barks out laughter and all you do is look back at the table of orcs to gauge their reactions, just incase you have to call the bouncer to stop another brawl.

"Aw yeah? Cus your slobbering snout's much more attractive, ain't it?"

One orc yells and the others hurl their chosen insults across the table as well. The werewolves grumble and snarl insults back and you just stand in the middle of this, trying to think of an escape.

"Maybe she ain't at your table for a reason!"

One of the orcs claims boldly and all the other orcs voice their agreement while the wolves clearly disagree.

"Why don't we let the lady decide." A wolf with greying fur suggests with a smirk and both tables seem to agree on this being just a wonderful idea.

"Well love? Who's better then? Us or the mutts?"

"Aye! The real question is who can treat her better, isn't that right, Doll?"

The attention of the two tables are now on you, waiting for your answer with baited breaths and half hard cocks probably.

"....I prefer minotaurs."

This deadpan response takes a few seconds to sink in before a chorus of disagreements and further arguing commences, but you're already making your way back towards the bar, you're sure they don't mind watching your tiny skirt bounce as you walk away.

That answer wasn't random, it's actually been the only thing you could think of all day. Your Minotaur coworkers cock reaching deep into your stomach while he pounds you into next week. That might be why so many customers have been extra forward with you today, maybe they can smell the need on you.

You finally make it back to the bar, getting ready to end your shift and finally get some relief.

"You causing trouble?"

You whip around to meet just the monster you were so desperate to see. He stands at the edge of the bar in his bouncer uniform, his sleeves hug his biceps very nicely and you nearly purr imagining what that arm would feel like around your throat, while he pounds you from behind. He gazes down at you with a knowing look.

"Me? Oh, I would never."

You look up at him and play with the collar of your shirt, successfully drawing his eyes to the generous amount of cleavage your uniform provides.

He huffs in amusement.

"They don't seem to think so."

He tilts his head and massive horns towards the two tables you just left where the occupants are all peering over one another to see the interaction between you and the bovine beast in front of you.

You scoff, take his arm and turn him around so that he's only focusing on you.

"I'm off. You're off in 15...maybe you could come by my place again....or something?"

You nervously bite your lip and he doesn't know why you're getting nervous.

You weren't nervous when you sent him that video of your stuffed cunt clenching around the Minotaur themed dildo you've had since before you were seeing eachother. You definitely weren't nervous when you sent him another video 6 hours ago of you stuffing said dildo into your perfect pussy in the employee bathrooms before slipping your tiny panties on over it, keeping the silicone deep in your cunt.

He pulls out his keys and leans down closer to you,

"Be ready when I get to the car."

You nearly squeal in excitement as you grab the keys and reach up to kiss his cheek. As you skip out the door to his car he looks back at the two tables just to revel a little in the disappointed grumbles and huffs emitting from the two groups as they go back to their drinks.

𓄀

[honeyncherry]

taste me now - bfb!rafe

summary in which rafe can’t help himself around his little sister’s best friend, especially after what happened last week

content 18+, suggestive

masterlist

Sarah’s laugh rang out across the backyard as the two of you sat by the pool. She was mid-story, something about Kiara’s latest terrible date, or maybe it was JJ’s? You weren’t sure. Her words blurred together, punctuated by exaggerated hand gestures and little bursts of laughter. 

You were doing your best to listen — really, you were.

But you could feel him. 

Rafe was up on the deck, leaning against the railing like he had all the time in the world. A cigarette balanced between his fingers, the faint trail of smoke curled lazily into the air drifting in soft, spiraling ribbons. And while his gaze stayed mostly fixed on the horizon, you knew better.

He wasn’t looking at you, not overtly, at least. But the occasional flick of his gaze in your direction was enough to make your stomach twist.

The memory of that kiss burned hotter than the relentless summer sun. You’d told yourself it was a mistake. An impulsive, heat-of-the-moment lapse in judgment. You were Sarah’s best friend, for goodness’ sake!

There were rules about these things. 

Rules you’d shattered the second his lips touched yours.

And yet, even now, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. About the way his hand had lingered on that sliver of exposed skin between your top and too-short skirt, his touch leaving a trail of warmth that refused to fade. How his other hand settled at the curve of your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek with a quiet, consuming intensity. As though he were mapping every contour, committing it to memory. And most of all, the way he’d breathed out your name, his voice deep and reverent, like it was something sacred. Something meant to be cherished by him alone.

You shifted in your chair, skin prickling under the weight of your own thoughts. The guilt coiled tight in your chest, its grip almost suffocating. You told yourself again and again that you shouldn’t be looking at him. You shouldn’t even be thinking about him.

But you couldn’t stop.

“Ugh, one sec,” Sarah said suddenly, cutting through the haze in your mind. She glanced at her phone, frowning. “It’s Wheezie. If I don’t answer, she’s gonna call like, five more times.”

She stood, her hair swaying behind her as she made her way toward the house, already pressing the phone to her ear. “I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder.

You nodded mutely, not trusting yourself to speak. The moment she disappeared inside the backyard seemed quieter somehow. All sounds around you faded into an oppressive stillness.

You focused in on the pool, trying to steady your breathing while watching the water ripple in the light breeze. Trying to remind yourself that there was nothing to worry about.

But you felt it before you saw him.

A shift in the air. A weight pressing down on your senses. The faint smell of smoke lingering even though the cigarette had been long gone.

His sudden presence made your pulse quicken, and you wondered how he’d gotten so close without you noticing. “Hey baby,” he husked, his voice soft and hurried as he glanced behind him, checking to make sure Sarah wasn’t returning.

“Rafe—” you started, your voice faltering as you looked up. But he didn’t let you finish.

He leaned down abruptly, one hand gripping the armrest of your chair, the other sliding to the back of your head in one swift, almost desperate motion. His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck without hesitation, and before you could utter another word, he pulled you toward him, his lips crashing into yours.

Once again, you found yourself succumbing to Rafe Cameron far too easily. The kiss was reckless, charged with the heat and tension that had been brewing between you for weeks. Rafe’s teeth teased your lips, his breath warm and beyond intoxicating.

Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. Instead, they froze, clawing at the fabric of your chair as if anchoring yourself would somehow steady the whirlwind inside you. Your heart clenched, and a shaky exhale escaped against his lips.

Your heart raced, its pounding so fierce it silenced everything else, leaving the world around you a distant blur. Guilt clawed at your mind even as your body betrayed you, leaning ever so slightly into him, just enough to feel his hard chest brushing up against your tits. Rafe groans, pulling away and looking down as they spill out from your bikini top.

He licks his lips, glancing up and shooting you a sleazy grin. He stares just long enough for the both of you to catch a single breath, before muttering two words that would echo in your mind for the next week: “Missed this.”

He kisses you again, lips and tongue all over you. Your mouth, your cheek, your jaw. They move frantically from your ear to your neck. You gasp as a new flood of emotions crashes over you, threatening to pull you under while your hands reach up to grab him. To touch him. To feel him.

“Rafe,” you whispered again, this time more of a plea.

But he’d already pulled back. His movements were measured, almost like he was savoring the moment.

His smirk lingered, curling at the corners of his lips like he knew exactly what chaos he was leaving behind. His gaze flicked to your lips one last time, a shadow of something unreadable crossing his face before he turned his head.

He glanced over his shoulder, pausing for the briefest moment as Sarah’s voice floated faintly from inside the house.

Then, with maddening composure, he straightened. Every movement exuded an infuriating sense of calm, as though nothing just happened.

With his hands slipping casually into his pockets, he turned and headed toward the docks, the sunlight catching the sharp angles of his profile before he disappeared from sight.

You were frozen in place, breath hitched in your throat. Leaning slightly forward, you were still caught in the lingering pull of where he’d held you just seconds ago. Your fingers brushed against your lips, as if needing proof that it had really happened… again.

A weight pressed against your chest, the same dangerous pull from last week, but now it hit harder. It was stronger, deeper, and even more impossible to ignore.

The sound of Sarah’s footsteps jolted you back to reality. Your gaze snapped toward the house just as she stepped outside, phone in hand.

“Ugh, finally,” she groaned, dropping into her chair with a dramatic sigh. The legs scraped faintly against the concrete as she slouched back, completely unaware of the storm still raging inside you. “Wheezie wouldn’t shut up about this jacket she found on sale. I swear, I’m blocking her next time.”

She trailed off, her nose wrinkling as she sniffed the air. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the space around you, “wait. Does it smell like smoke out here?”

No.

Your body went rigid, heart slamming against your ribs like it was trying to break free. “Uh, I don’t think so?” 

Sarah turned sharply, her gaze locking onto you. “Are you sure?” she asked, leaning in closer.

The moment stretched unbearably, your pulse roaring in your ears as you forced a shrug, silently begging her not to see the guilt etched across your face.

“Well, whatever,” she said at last, leaning back in her chair with a dismissive wave. “I swear, Rafe stinks up the whole house when he smokes. So gross.”

You swallowed hard, your tongue brushing over your lips. The faint taste of smoke lingered there, branded on your skin.

You hated how much you liked it.