#I WILL DRAW LATER BEFORE I LEAVE FOR THE TRIP

[everestgale]

Why?

[This is a direct continuation of my half-Opportunist angst half-Skeptunist comic from February "It was in your nature," it takes place right as the comic is ending. This is your spoiler warning! Also it's a lot shorter than my last writing attempt, just under 1000 words (rather than 4000 it was last time-)]

[If I can't finish making drawings for my favorite ship, I will write them instead. Beaming these birds, they won't leave me alone (T v T)]

[Content warnings: blood, dead body]

[Hope you enjoy!]

_________________________________________

So why did you–

Opportunist slid off onto his knees, the blade uselessly clattering beside him. He dragged his right hand and smeared a dark stain across the ground beneath; copper scent lingered in the back of his throat. His eyes froze in a dazed, petrified expression, locked onto the viscous pool of crimson. 

Why?

The question lingered, ringing endlessly in Opportunist’s head. His own inner voice sounded foreign, as though someone else from deep beneath kept asking why. That question would never have a clear answer now. How ironic, Opportunist thought, he would’ve hated that.

He will never hate anything again.

He will never ask anything again, either.

Opportunist winced, tasting the bile in his mouth. He tried to lift his body and stand up, but he staggered and tripped forward, his elbows now deep in blood. The deep indigo cloak loomed before his eyes, drenched and stained red. Opportunist tried to push himself away but lacked the strength–

Like always.

The stray thought got caught in Opportunist’s mind. He wasn’t always like this, no, he couldn’t be, he wasn’t weak, he was a sensible person looking out for himself, he had to–

Why?

A vision flashed before Opportunist; he suddenly sat at the kitchen table, waving a deck of cards in his hands at Skeptic. He was back at the card game night, the same night that Skeptic had ambushed him, tried to weasel his way into “cracking” Opportunist open like one of his many unsolved cases. He knew that Skeptic had tried to get close to him for a while, extensively studying his habits and mannerisms, but he couldn’t get a solid reason why. There had to be a reason Skeptic tried to get close to him… so naturally, what else would it be other than Skeptic’s vain attempts to find his weakness, to gain an advantage over him, to use it and abuse it against him–

Why?

Why would it be anything else?

Why?

Because–

Why?

…

Opportunist wasn’t sure anymore.

The very fiber of his being screamed at this creeping doubt; you fool, it thrashed in Opportunist's mind, he was a smart one, he knew too much, he planned to betray you. Better him than you.

As that thought crossed his mind, Opportunist's gaze focused on the body in front of him. For the briefest of moments, he saw blood-soaked brown feathers, rather than indigo, his body growing colder. He could hear a whistle; the sound of metal hitting flesh rang through the air, just as the sharp pain pierced down his back. That's what would happen, his very instinct whispered in his ears, better him than you–

Why?

The wretched question repeated itself, and another sharp pain arose, but this time, it was in Opportunist's heart.

If Skeptic truly schemed against him, wanted to gain the upper hand over him, tried to gain his trust to betray and backstab him later–

Why didn't you fight back?

Tears pooled in the corners of Opportunist's eyes; he squeezed them shut before his hands instinctively reached forward and grabbed Skeptic's lifeless body by the cloak. He brought it closer, acting on nothing but pure impulse and regret, and buried his face in one of Skeptic's wings, desperately clinging onto his dead flockmate.

Why did you let me kill you?

He let out a couple of quiet sobs, muffled by the soft flight feathers, still warm and comforting like they always were, almost like they belonged to someone living.

Opportunist could never let himself completely relax when he was with other people, he was so sure of it. And yet one gentle, fuzzy memory returned and lulled him out of this false confidence.

A nightmare. One brightly lit, stifling torch, surrounded by eternal, biting cold. He, no, everyone was supposed to celebrate its kind, blazing warmth… when it was the very thing that smothered life out of the air. Just as he was about to suffocate, Opportunist woke up with a shriek, shaking and desperately gasping. Everything afterwards was a blur to him, Opportunist could not recall what really happened that night… except, he distinctly remembered soft indigo wings, gently wrapping him in a warm embrace. He remembered relaxing into them, clinging to them, before drifting back to sleep. He remembered a gruff, but caring voice whispering something; he could not make out the words, but he knew they were tender… and honest.

He felt comfortable. 

The most comfortable he had ever felt in his entire life.

And yet Opportunist could not find the strength to trust him.

So why did you believe in me?

Was it for the same reason that Opportunist's heart broke as the blade hit Skeptic's back?

…

No.

No.

No, no, no, Skeptic, you fool, you– Opportunist could not let that thought linger for too long, for if it did, then that means…

Then that means Skeptic–

No.

loved–

No.

Opportunist jolted away from the lifeless body. 

No. 

He wiped the blood off his hands before brushing off the leftover tears. He took a shallow, ragged breath before he lifted his own body off the ground, the smallest movements requiring sustained effort. His heart ached as his wobbly legs moved him away from the pool of blood beneath his talons. But he couldn't let himself–

No.

Opportunist knew he wasn't safe right now. With Skeptic gone, the flock surely would erupt into chaos. And several of them would surely suspect Opportunist–

Luckily, he had a plan.

Whatever other thoughts or feelings or regrets wanted to surface, Opportunist buried them deep beneath. He had to keep going; he had to come out on top; he had to ensure his safety.

Better them than you.

It was in his nature.

[calithso]

Rest you silly goofy. If you burn out now then what will we do 😰

but i have motivation 💔 my ideas 💔 all delayed..... who will draw my gay big brained thoughts while i'm gone 💔

i have an out-of-town trip tomorrow but i will try to rest after !! (hopefully)

[yamujiburo]

A few months ago, some of you might know if you keep up with this blog, I went to Collect-A-Con LA. It was truly on a whim. Literally the day before my girlfriend and I had just come back from our Europe trip. Normally I'd be so tired and jetlagged but for some reason I was feeling really antsy and energized and just needed to go somewhere and get out of the house.

I found out that Collect-A-Con LA was happening the following day and that a lot of the original Pokemon voice cast would be there. So I bought a ticket, drew/printed up a picture that I wanted to get signed and got up early to drive to the convention center (you have to understand that I hate driving in town and also very much never wake up early). I don't know what possessed me to do this but I'm so glad I did.

I ended up having the privilege of meeting Eric Stuart, Veronica Taylor and of course, Rachael Lillis.

She was masked up, looked tired, and a bit sick. And at the time, I assumed she might've caught a cold over the weekend of the con. I went to her table and she still smiled and gave me all of her attention and time. I paid her assistant for an autograph, gave Rachael the drawing I'd done and she got to signing it. Her assistant said the print I had was cute and asked where I got it. I told her that I drew it myself and that I spent a LOT of my time drawing Team Rocket and other various Pokemon fanart. When I said that, Rachel stopped mid-sign and looked up and squinted at me and asked "are you Kiana Mai"? My heart skipped. I had no idea she knew who I was and was surprised that, given how many Pokemon fanartists there are in the world, she was able to pick me out. I left that interaction so happy and felt so seen. Soon after, I went to get my print signed by Veronica Taylor and while in her line, noticed Rachael had left her table; presumably not feeling well and had to leave the con early. I remember thinking how lucky I was to catch her before she left.

A couple months later, I saw the gofundme that her sister posted, detailing what Rachel was going through for the past few years and her battle with cancer. It put that convention day in such a different perspective for me.

All I could think about was how much she cared about her fans and how in touch with her community she was to go to a convention while being in so much pain and suffering in silence. I obviously don't know her personally, but based on how other fans who've met her, as well as her colleagues have spoken about her, I got the impression that she was an amazing, thoughtful person who cared about the people around her. That was only solidified for me based on this singular interaction a few months ago.

Rest in Peace Rachael Lillis. You've touched so many lives with your voice and so much of us grew up listening you. Thank you for everything!

[v6quewrlds]

❝ candy paint, l. norris. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: lando norris is a lot of things: 100% honest is not one of them. good thing you're around to make sure he owns his weaknesses.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: first lando fic everyone cheer!! finding my footing writing lando's personality (dry asf) but I'll get there lmao day three of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, friends with benefits, the max mentioned is fewtrell not verstappen, oral (male receiving)protected sex, neither reader nor lando can shut the fuck up.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: lando norris x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2k.

"You're kidding, right?" you said into the phone, your voice laced with a hint of skepticism. The rain pattered against the window of your apartment, matching the rhythm of your thoughts. You had just returned from a week-long work trip and were looking forward to a quiet evening in.

Lando's voice was as persistent as the rain outside. "Come on, mate. It's been too long. You know I can't wait." His tone was a blend of playful and demanding, the kind that usually made your heart flutter. But this time, you had to draw a line.

"Lando, seriously," you said, a smirk playing on your lips. "What about your little bet with Max?" The mention of Max's name brought a mischievous glint to your eye. You knew how much he hated losing, especially to his friends.

Lando chuckled, the sound echoing through the line. "I wasn't sticking to the bet anyway. I've got to see you." His voice grew husky with desire, the kind of voice that made your knees wobble and your resolve waver. "I'll come to you."

You hesitated, your eyes narrowing as you considered his plea. The thought of seeing Lando sent a warm shiver down your spine. You could almost feel his strong hands gripping your hips, his breath hot on your neck. "Fine," you relented. "But if you want to come over, I'm telling Max you caved."

"You wouldn't," Lando said with mock horror, and you could almost hear his grin.

"Oh, I absolutely would," you replied, the challenge in your voice unmistakable. "You're the one begging to see me, remember?"

The line went quiet for a beat, and then Lando sighed dramatically. "Alright, fine, whatever. I'll be there in twenty."

Twenty minutes later, the sound of the door opening and closing was like music to your ears. You felt the heat of Lando's presence before you even saw him. He was soaking wet from the rain outside, his white t-shirt clinging to his muscular chest. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him. "You look like a drowned rat," you said, standing up from the couch where you had been scrolling through your phone.

"Charming," Lando shot back with a smirk, shaking his wet hair like a dog and spraying droplets across the floor. He stepped closer to you, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the freshness of rain. "But it's worth it if it means I get to see this gorgeous face." He leaned in to kiss you, but you playfully pushed him away. "What, no greeting for the man who braved the storm to see you?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. "Take off your clothes before you drench the whole place," you said, stepping aside. You watched as he peeled off his shirt, revealing the defined abdomen and muscular arms that had your knees growing weaker by the second. You made no effort to hide your eyes sweeping over his form as you bit your bottom lip.

He kicked off his shoes and socks, leaving a puddle by the door. "Better?" he asked, a glint in his eye as he moved closer.

"Marginally," you replied, trying to keep your cool. But when Lando's hands reached for your waist, pulling you into his warm embrace, you melted against him. His touch was like a warm blanket on a cold night, comforting and revitalizing all at once.

You kissed with an intensity that spoke of weeks of pent-up longing, your tongues dancing in a familiar rhythm. His hands slid down your back, cupping your ass, and you felt his erection pressing against your thigh. "You're going to be the end of me," he murmured against your lips.

You pulled away just enough to whisper, "You're the one who couldn't wait." You stepped back, taking his hand and leading him to the couch. With a swift motion, you straddled him, your cotton shorts riding up your thighs. Lando's hands roamed up your legs, his thumbs teasing the hem, hinting at what was to come.

Your round brown eyes searched his emerald ones, a silent question lingering between you two. "You sure you're ready to lose?" you asked, your voice low and sultry. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the distant patter of rain.

Lando's grin was all the answer you needed. "Love, I'd do anything to taste you right now." His thumbs hooked into the waistband of your shorts, and with a quick pull, they were around your ankles. He groaned as he felt the heat of your bare skin against his.

You giggled, a sound that was music to his ears, and leaned back, placing your hands on his shoulders. "Well, you're in luck," you said, your voice dripping with seduction. "Because I'm feeling quite generous."

Without breaking eye contact, Lando reached for the waistband of his sweats pulling it down with a slow, deliberate movement. His erection sprang free, and you couldn't help but gasp. He was always so beautifully aroused, so ready for you. You slid your hand over it, feeling it pulse beneath your touch.

He groaned, his eyes closing briefly before snapping open again. "Don't tease me," he warned, his voice strained.

"Who's teasing?" you said, your smile wicked. You kneeled off the couch, your soft dark curls brushing against his chest, and took him in your mouth. Lando's grip tightened on the couch cushions, his body arching off the cushions with a hiss.

"Fuck, babe," he groaned, his eyes rolling back. Your mouth was warm and wet, moving over him with the kind of expertise that only came from knowing someone's body intimately. You took him deep, your tongue swirling around the head before pulling back to tease the sensitive underside. You knew every inch of him, every spot that made him squirm, and every spot that made him beg.

You felt a rush of power, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you watched Lando's reaction. You loved the way he lost control around you, the way his cocky exterior crumbled to reveal the desperate need beneath. You bobbed your head faster, taking him deeper each time, until you felt his thighs tense and his hips jerk upwards.

"Goddammit," he breathed, his hands finding their way into your hair, guiding your movements. "I can't wait anymore." He pulled you off him, his eyes dark with need. "Get on top," he said, his voice a gruff command.

Your heart raced as you straddled him, your own desire matching his. You watched as he reached into the pocket of his sweats, retrieving a condom he casually slid over his length. Then you felt him at your entrance, his fingers eagerly pushing your panties to the side, and with a little wiggle, you sank down, enveloping him in your warmth. Lando's eyes rolled back in his head, a silent groan escaping his lips. The sensation of him filling you was overwhelming, a sweet ache that you had missed.

You found your rhythm quickly, your bodies moving together as if you had been practicing this dance your whole life. Lando's hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips as you rode him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons of pressure as you rose and fell. Each time you took him in, you felt like you were claiming a piece of him, a piece that was yours and yours alone.

The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, a testament to your passion. You leaned forward, your breasts brushing against Lando's chest, and whispered, "Couldn't even go two weeks, could you?" Your voice was teasing, but it held an underlying satisfaction. You knew you had the power to make him break his bet.

"Fuck the bet," Lando groaned, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. "You're all I need." His words were punctuated by his hips bucking upwards, pushing into you with a desperation that sent a shiver down your spine. The room grew hotter, the scent of your desire mixing with the dampness from the rain outside.

Your movements grew more frantic, their breaths mingling in the air. The couch creaked beneath you, a testament to the intensity of your passion. You felt yourself getting closer, your inner muscles tightening around him. Lando's grip on your hips grew firmer, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Come for me," he urged, his eyes burning into yours. "Let go, baby."

You threw your head back, your dark curls bouncing off your shoulders as you picked up your pace. The sensations grew more intense, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Lando's hands moved from your hips to your breasts, his hands squeezing at the bouncing flesh before leaning down to bring his mouth to the peaks. You gasped, the pleasure shooting straight to your core.

"Yes, just like that," you moaned, your voice a little raspy. The warmth of his mouth on your breasts sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your orgasm approaching, the familiar coil tightening in your belly. You leaned into him, your movements becoming erratic as you chased the feeling.

Lando could feel you tightening around him, your breath coming in short gasps. He knew you were close, and it was his undoing. He thrust upwards, his own release building. "Fuck," he groaned, his eyes meeting yours, silently pleading for you to let go.

With a cry, you did. Your orgasm washed over you, making your body convulse. You felt him swell inside you, his own climax following closely behind. You held onto each other tightly, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony until the waves of pleasure subsided.

For a moment, you stayed just like that, panting and sweaty, your hearts hammering in your chests. Then, Lando leaned in to kiss you, a gentle brush of his lips that spoke of affection and satisfaction. He pulled out of you with a soft groan, and you felt a twinge of loss. But the warmth of his body remained, his arms still wrapped around your waist.

"You're amazing," he murmured against your neck, his voice a low rumble that made your skin prickle. You leaned into the embrace, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. This was your thing, your little slice of heaven, left uncomplicated despite your close friendship.

You lay there for a while, your bodies entwined and your breaths slowing. The rain outside had turned into a gentle pitter-patter, lulling you into a state of post-coital bliss. It was moments like these that made the world seem to stop spinning, where the only thing that mattered was the warmth of each other's skin and the sound of your hearts beating in unison.

You leaned back and looked into his green eyes, the corners of your mouth curling up in a knowing smile. "So," you began, "Are you going to man up and text Max now, or should I?"

Lando groaned, his head falling back against the couch cushion. "You're enjoying this way too much," he said, a hint of a grin playing on his lips.

"I like seeing you squirm," you replied, your voice light and playful. You reached for your phone on the coffee table, your eyes gleaming with mischief. You knew Lando was competitive to a fault and losing was not something he took kindly to, especially not when it came to something as serious as a bet with Max.

Lando's eyes narrowed playfully as he watched you type away, his arms still around your waist. "Don't be too detailed," he murmured, his grip tightening slightly.

You glanced up at him, your smile widening. "Oh, I won't," you said sweetly, sending the text. "But he's going to know you didn't last five minutes."

Lando's eyes shot open. "You didn't!"

"Oh, I did," you said with a laugh, the sound like a melody in the quiet room. "And you know what?"

He tugged on your hair gently, bringing you closer. "What?"

"It was worth it," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity. "Every single second."

You kissed him softly, your tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip. Lando's eyes closed, savoring the moment, his arms tightening around you. He knew you were right, that the thrill of being with you was worth any bet.

[eufezco]

THE MUSE

Benedict needs to practice female form. Naked female form. And who better to help him than his lifelong friend?

Benedict x fem!reader (smut with plot, friends to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

Benedict didn't know how to ask you.

You had been friends for a long time, your families were practically one. Always so united, your mamas took walks every afternoon, gossiping about the ton and your fathers had been friends since childhood. You and Benedict were bound to meet.

You and he grew up together. You were friends with his siblings, you had held sleepovers with his sisters and won cricket matches against his brothers. Lady Violet Bridgerton loved you like a daughter and your mother loved Benedict like a son.

But your friendship with him had always been special.

When you were twelve, you ran away together to camp on the riverbank, just because Benedict wanted to draw the moon reflecting in the water at night. The following year, despite the scolding you received for your river adventure, you and Benedict sneaked onto private land just to pluck a few petals from the summer sunflowers to get him the perfect shade of yellow.

You and Benedict were very close. Of course, there had always been rumors about what kind of relationship you two had and that Lady Whistledown had only added more fuel to the fire writing about you two in her pamphlets. You and him never cared about that, and neither your families but it was true that you two have had to face some uncomfortable conversations with them about it.

That's why Benedict didn't know how to ask you. You had a lot of trust in each other, you had always supported his artistic vocation but perhaps this was too much.

—Oh, thank God you've come. I am in need of a model —. It was the first thing Benedict said to you when you entered his studio. The maid closed the door behind you, leaving you alone with him. Thank goodness the Bridgertons' service was very discreet, if anyone found out that you and him were alone in a room it would cause quite a scandal.

—Good evening to you too, Benedict.

—My apologies. Good evening —. He leaned to kiss your cheek.— I need a model —. He let you know one more time.

—How have you been? Very stressed from what I can tell —. You tried to have a normal conversation with him before you paid attention to what he required.

—Indeed.

You sighed. —Well, what is it? I thought we were going for a walk.

He nodded. —We can go outside later. But I need to get this done by tomorrow and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

—And...?

—I need practice female form.

You slowly nodded. You were aware that Benedict had been recently attending this art academy, you were happy that he was finally able to pursue his passion and you couldn't deny that within the characteristic desperation of the artists, he looked very attractive. Benedict's hair was a mess, his white shirt was half-open, his sleeves were rolled up. He would never have allowed himself be seen in society like that and you were grateful because otherwise he would have all the girls after him.

—And you want me to...?

—Pose for me.

You weren't quite sure how to do it but it seemed easy and fun. All the times he had drawn you, he had done it when you were distracted, reading, having tea with his sisters... The pencil moved effortlessly across the paper when he saw you laughing with Daphne or playing with the cards that Colin had brought back from his trip to Spain. He was already too embarrassed to admit each time he drew you and Anthony teased him by saying that if he didn't propose to you, he would show you his drawings, and Benedict's heart skipped a beat because he knew that his older brother was not known for being a joker.

Benedict still didn't know how he was going to ask you, maybe it was better to just let it out.

—And what shall I do? Just stand here? Like this? —You laughed and made a dramatic pose like the ones you saw in the paintings in the gallery you visited together.

—I need you to ...

Benedict swallowed nervously. He looked down at your dress and then directly into your eyes. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. You also looked at your dress to see if there was something wrong with it.

—Benedict I don't think I understand what you are trying to say—

—I need to practice naked female form.

Benedict immediately noticed your horrified face. He wanted to go back seconds ago when he hadn't even asked but if it wasn't you, who would it be? —I will not draw your face. No one will know it is you. It will be purely professional, I just need a few minutes.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and decided to trust him when he said that it would be for professional purposes only. The unfinished nude sketches that made your cheeks burn when you saw them as you entered his studio showed you that Benedict found no inspiration in the bodies of the academy models. After a nervous swallowing, you nodded and Benedict's face lit up. He hugged you but you didn't have time to hug him back because he quickly went to prepare the canvas.

—Is the door locked? —You asked him as you shed the little jacket that covered your shoulders along with your gloves. Benedict rushed off to lock it and before he returned to his position behind the canvas. You called his name and gulped, your hands failing in their attempts to unzip your own dress. —May I please get some help?

—Oh, yes, of course. My apologies.

Benedict stood behind you, his fingers brushing the skin on your back as he began to slowly unzip it until the dress slid down your body and fell at your feet. Benedict felt like he had to look away, as if in a few seconds you would not be completely exposed to his eyes. He offered you his hand to help you get up on a small pedestal that he had in his studio. Once you got rid of your underwear, you felt vulnerable but not as vulnerable as when Benedict ran his eyes over your body from his position and with the paintbrush already in his hand.

He let out all the air he had in his lungs, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Benedict could not deny that he had imagined it on many occasions, but reality far surpassed his imagination.

—What... What should I do, Benedict? —You hugged yourself.

—Put your arms down and stand like that. You look perfect, darling.

Your cheeks burned after that. You did as he said. His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration as his eyes went from the canvas to you and back to the canvas. Benedict asked you to turn around and he squeezed his eyes tightly after seeing your bare ass. Purely professional, this was purely professional, he had to remind himself.

Benedict grabbed a wooden chair and walked over to you. Your heart skipped a beat once he was so close to your naked body and he felt the exact same. He placed the chair next to you and invited you to sit on it. He nodded slowly when you did, focusing on the new position of your body. Benedict went back behind the canvas and made a few sketches.

He cleared his throat. —Would it be possible if you... Could you spread your legs?

Your cheeks grew hot and you squeezed your thighs together.

The knot you had in your stomach got tighter and you felt your chest rise and fall slowly thanks to your deep breathing. You straightened your back in the chair and you did as Benedict asked. You felt the air of the room caressing you in that warm and wet area and he held his breath, his chest puffing out as your legs slowly opened for him.

—You are beautiful, darling. Do not be ashamed —. Every new inch he discovered of your body made you look more perfect in his eyes. It was as nice to see you as it was to paint you.

Your cheeks grew even hotter but this time it wasn't just your cheeks, your whole body was in flames starting with the area between your legs that was so exposed to his eyes.

—Could we try another position?

You nodded, relieved, you were sure it was painfully obvious the way you had gotten wet and you just hoped he was busy enough to not notice.

He dropped the paintbrush and got up from the stool on which he was sitting. Benedict felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter with each step he took closer to your naked body. You moved in the chair out of nervousness. Benedict leaned slightly over you. —May I? —He asked before touching your leg. His voice made you shiver, he was so close, you felt his hand brush against the skin of your thigh. You nodded and looked up at him while he repositioned your leg. Benedict's eyes meet yours, so helpless, his lifelong friend, was that innocence in your eyes, or was that...?

Lust.

Your hand grabbed the back of Benedict's head and pressed his lips against yours. His eyes widened in surprise but immediately after, his hands went to cup your cheeks as he fell to his knees in front of you. You opened your legs so he could place himself between them and be closer to you. The shameless hands of your friend traveled down your neck until they reached your breasts. You moaned against his mouth once he gave them a gentle squeeze, the soft palm of his hand brushing against your nipples.

Benedict left a trail of soft kisses from your cheeks to your collarbones and your breasts. He took one in his mouth as his hand played with the other, his tongue moving in circles around your nipple and sucking on it at the same time. Your breathing quickened and your lips parted to let out soft moans when Benedict's teeth brushed your sensitive nipple.

He let go with a pop sound and watched you gasp for air. Benedict placed his hands on the inside of your thighs and caressed your skin there before he slowly pushed them to open even further. His hands prepared you for him, his eyes asked for your permission. You nodded and Benedict flashed you a smile, that was all he needed. He peppered your thighs with kisses, taking small bites and kissing your sore skin afterwards. Your breathing deepened as his mouth got closer to where you needed him the most. He was so close he could smell you and oh Lord, his dick got hard as a rock at that moment.

You took a sharp breath when he licked from your entrance to your clit and savored your juices in his mouth. The image was completely sinful, his blue eyes were locked on you while his lips sucked on your bundle of nerves, his hands forced your legs to stay open for him. Your head was thrown back, your mouth was open in a perfect "O" form, your fingers digging into his scalp. Once he noticed the desperation in the way your hips rolled against his mouth, two of his fingers entered you easily. You stifled a loud moan, throwing a hand over your mouth.

Benedict hummed, sending vibrations to your clit.

—Talk to me. How does this feel? —He required.

—So good. It feels... —You bit down your lower lip, his fingers sank deeper. —It feels like heaven.

He was satisfied with your answer.

Benedict fucked you with his fingers until you had to grab his wrist to get him to stop, it was too much. Your legs closed around his head but his lips were still attached to your clit and he didn't stop until he heard how your moans turned into whines and cries, not until he noticed how your back arched off the chair and your chest rose and fell uncontrolled thanks to your panting. Benedict didn't stop, not until he felt how your pussy was clenching so hard that almost pushed his fingers out of you and he heard you moan his name one last time as your grip on his hair tightened.

He gave you all the time you needed to catch your breath, kissing your legs and intertwining his fingers with yours while you came down from your high. Benedict's blue eyes were locked on you making every effort to later recall every single part of you.

—How are you feeling, darling? —Benedict stood on his feet and held your hands so that you would stand up as well. Before you could answer his question, you both realized how your legs were shaking and laughed. At the same time, you felt Benedict's grip on your hands grow stronger to keep you from falling.

Benedict leaned in and kissed your lips in the sweetest possible way. The tickling sensation in your body that you felt when you were naked in front of him had turned into a different kind of tickling, now focused on your stomach. It was so familiar, you had felt it so many times when you looked at him but now, with his lips on yours and his hands treating you with so much affection and care, it was different.

You could confirm that it was not only lust but also love.

You hummed against his lips. —Wait, did you finish your drawing?

Benedict shook his head. —But, please, do not worry about that. I will help you get dressed —. You frowned confused and he gave a quick kiss to your lips so, as he had told you, you would not worry. —I can finish later. There's no way I'm forgetting your body, my dear.

[sophie-looks-at-things]

As You Wish

Pairing: Aemond x wife reader

Summary: Aemond's new wife has a moment of reflection wondering if her new husband truly cares for her. Aemond is determined to prove to her that he is utterly devoted to her.

Warnings: smut, some slight angst? maybe idk honestly haha, Aemond loves his wife he just has issues expressing it lol, p in v, oral (f receiving) man is a champ when it comes to that, praise, 18+, vulgar language lol, slight breeding kink

AN: hey y'all! long time no see haha, I finally watched the season 2 hotd premiere last night and had to finally write something! this is my first go at a legit fic and not just headcanons so don't be too judgy haha. but I hope y'all enjoy it! :)

PS: it is unedited rn, but I was just too excited to post it, so I'll edit it later!

The rose-scented bubbles of the bath water lapped soothingly against your flesh. This had become your routine, after the evening's supper or feast you would call to your handmaid to draw a bath. Scalding hot water, warm enough to turn your skin pink upon contact. The boiling water and the familiar scent of the roses were one of the few things that brought you comfort after your marriage to Prince Aemond. Your family had come seasonally to court for many moons now, your mother being a friend of Queen Alicent. As your brothers sparred with the young princes in the training grounds, you took more kindly towards the gardens. Wandering around the maze of flowers and bushes searching for faeries and nymphs. Of course, you had been only a child then and had not yet known that such silly things don’t exist. 

It had been the Prince himself that informed you of such. You had been crouched on your knees before a bed of yellow roses, looking between the stems and leaves for the little creatures. The skirts of your dress soiled and stained brown from the earth beneath you. You had been so preoccupied with searching for them, that you hadn’t heard the crunching of grass and footsteps behind you.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” Aemond had asked you, voice bitter but curious. You stood up hastily, nearly tripping on your own two feet as you spun around and curtsied clumsily. 

“I am searching for faeries my Prince. Mother said that they can be found amongst the stems of the most beautiful flowers!” Your small hands began to nervously dust themselves off on your already dirty skirts. Aemond’s eye followed the motion, his upper lip curling in disgust. It had only been a couple of moons since the young prince had lost his eye. The scar was still fresh and red around the edges, the eyepatch clearly bothering him. For it appeared to be fastened too tight around his head. 

“Don’t be absurd, such pathetic things don’t exist. All you’ve succeeded in doing is soiling your clothes.” He motions down towards your skirts, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. Feeling ashamed to be talked down upon by someone you hoped to be a potential friend. Even though his eye, or lack thereof, scared most, you had found it intriguing. Your father had told you stories of men in faraway places who wore their scars like badges of honor, like trophies of war. The marred skin being a testament to their victories in battle. Your father however did not return to tell the tails of his own scars, for he had passed in the Stepstones, aiding Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon in their war. 

“My apologies my Prince, for I-” you dared a look up into face, his brows knit together, arms crossed over his chest. You lowered your eyes in shame once more “I shall go change my skirts at once.” And with that you darted off, not waiting for a response from the young Targaryen. 

That had been many years ago though, and you were no longer a child, and nor was he. Prince Aemond had grown into a handsome man, not just physically, but intellectually as well. The water of your bath had grown tepid as you recalled the memory, a slight frown adorning your features. Why had he wanted to marry you? He hardly had shown any interest, more likely it was because his mother and grandfather craved the military prowess your family possessed. They needed it for the impending war. So a proposal for your hand had been made, and your eldest brother eagerly accepted. After your father’s passing, and your mother grew older in age he had taken it upon himself to attend to the coming and goings of your house. 

It wasn’t that Aemond was exactly an unkind husband, he just wasn’t present, ever. There was always a reason or excuse for him to leave a room once you arrived. The only full night you had spent with him had been your wedding night, in your marital bed. He wasn’t rough, nor was he gentle, but he possessed an air of duty and responsibility when it came to the consummation. For once he spilled his spend inside of you he had fetched a cloth for you to clean yourself. Then turned his back to you and slept, not uttering another word. 

The sound of your chamber doors creaking open drew you from your thoughts. The clanking of a sword and heavy footsteps made their way towards you in the bathing room. You were met with the sight of your rather disheveled lord husband. Before you could offer him a greeting, however, his eye lifted to your face, and he asked: 

“May I join you?” Taken aback slightly by the question there was a pause, the room silent. Then, you nodded, “Yes, yes of course you may husband.” 

Aemond had waited for your approval before stripping himself bare of his clothes, riding clothes by the looks of it. He must have been out on Vhagar. You observe him as he untethered his belts and the laces of his boots. The years of training had done him well, his arms and back muscles lean and corded. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to drag your nails down them, as he fucked into you–

“Wife? Did you hear me?” Shit, he must have asked you something, looking up from the muscles of his arms to meet his eyes you shook your head. He chuckled a bit, smirking, you had been caught in your staring.

“I asked you, how was your day my lady wife.” A hint of amusement laced his voice, he had rid himself of his clothes, having placed them neatly over the back of one of the armchairs in the rooms. 

“Oh, well, it was alright. Nothing too exciting I'm afraid. I did have tea with your mother and sister though. That was quite pleasant, Helaena was telling me of the butterflies that come for the roses this time of year. She said we must go see them once they arrive.” As you spoke Aemond made his way around the tub, to behind you. It took an embarrassingly great deal of effort not to stare as he had presented himself bare before you. To look only above his waist and not let your eyes drift down towards his cock. 

“Mmh, yes we must see them then,” his cold hands met your shoulder blades, rubbing small, soothing, circles on them. This was his way of telling you to move forward, so that he may join you in the tub, taking his place behind you, and pulling you onto his lap. 

“You take such tepid baths wife. You’ll catch a cold one of these days.” He mumbled into your ear as he made himself comfortable behind you, his legs outstretched beside your own. It wasn’t that such small talk was uncommon between the two of you when he was around. Besides, you two did share chambers, so despite his avoidance during the day, he was bound to return to you at night. 

Turning fully to face him now, with a surge of annoyance, the water sloshing around the two of you with your sudden movements. “Why do you care? You are hardly even here to see me as is, I doubt you would even notice.” Aemond’s singular lilac eye widens, not from anger, but rather from surprise. His lady wife was always so sweet, so silent, this was new, and dare he say exciting. 

“A woman can only take so much you know–” You go to stand, to leave the tub, and go to bed, done with whatever this conversation is. Aemond’s hand shoots out to grasp your wrist, stopping you from doing so. 

“Wait!” It came out more harsh than he had intended. “I do care for you my lady, truly I do. I did not know that you–”

“Prove it.” You say interrupting whatever he is about to tell you. You keep your eyes level and voice steady. “Prove it to me then husband,”

Aemond says only one thing before attacking your lips, “As you wish,” He is not gentle in his kisses, he does not know how to be gentle. Perhaps you could teach him. His grasp on your wrist moves to your waist as he continues his assault on your lips. His hands roam the flesh of your waist, your hips, your thighs, his lips move down towards your neck. Biting and nipping at the flesh there, sure to leave a mark for all to see.

“Aemond–” 

“Shhh, let me take care of you tonight. Let me prove to you how much I desire you, my love.” He murmurs between bites and kisses. He pulls back, only for a moment, “You are beautiful, I am sorry I have not told you this enough,” his lips attach themselves to one of your breasts, suckling at the nipple. You let out a surprised breath as he bites down, a wave of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

His roaming hands have found purchase on your ass, his deft fingers kneading the plump flesh. Suddenly his grip becomes tighter as he rises from the tub with you in his arms, water spilling over the sides and onto the floor. You hurriedly wrap your arms around his neck, in an attempt to steady yourself. 

“Aemond! You’ve made a mess–” He laughs, fully this time, not just a chuckle. It’s a lovely sound you think.

 “Fuck the mess, the maids shall deal with it in the morning. I’ve neglected my dear lady wife and that must be rectified immediately. One of the hands on your ass pulls back and gives it a small slap. You gasp in surprise, tucking your face into his neck, peppering small kisses there, just as he had done to you moments before. You could get used to this side of your husband. Aemond lets out a hum of satisfaction at your ministrations, soon after playfully throwing you down onto your shared bed. 

“Aemond the sheets, they’re soaked now–” you began to protest cut off rather abruptly by his grip on your ankles. Pulling you down towards the end of the mattress, your cunt now level with his lips. 

“That should hardly matter, we have others–” he places a kiss on your inner thigh. “Besides the only thing I care to see soaked is your cunt after I am done–” Without another word or hesitation, Aemond licks a hot stripe up the center of your core. Then a second, and a third, until he loses all control. He devours you like a man starved. His strong arms wrap themselves around your things, pulling you impossibly closer to him. His tongue continues its assault on your cunt.

“You taste of the finest ambrosia–” the vibrations of his voice sending shock waves of electricity to your clit. Aemond is only spurred on further by the sound of your sweet moans. His name falling from your lips like a chant, like a prayer to the Seven. His lips find purchase on your clit, sucking and licking till you're writhing beneath him. Your hands shoot down, finding purchase in his long silver locks.

“Aemond, oh Aemond–” the words spill from your lips like nonsense. The only thing you are able to focus on is his lips and tongue lapping at your cunt. The man between your thighs devouring you like this is his last meal alive.

“Cum for me, cum on my tongue. And then I shall reward you with my cock. Cum for me my love–” As if on command, you feel the muscles of your lower abdomen contract, and then all that lovely pleasure overflows, and bursts from you. With a strangled cry of his name, you cum on his tongue. You look down at your husband between your thighs, his lips glistening in your release. 

“Good girl, my good, sweet, perfect girl. You did exactly what I asked,” he crawls up your body, stopping only to place the occasional kiss to your hot skin. His lips return to your neck, sucking love marks into the skin over the faint ones he had left before. A newfound favorite of his perhaps. He gives his cock a few strokes, his thumb collecting the beading drop of arousal from his tip. Wordlessly, he brings the digit up to your lips, pressing down gently on your bottom one. You open your mouth, sucking the essence from his finger, swirling your tongue around it, eager to please him. He groans in response, resting his forehead on yours, 

“Perhaps another night my love, I need to be inside of you now.” You release his thumb with a slight pop. 

“Fuck me then, husband–” Not needing any further encouragement, Aemond sheathes his cock inside of your cunt. The warm, velvety walls squeezing him perfectly. “Fuck–” he moans breathlessly as he slowly begins to thrust into your weeping cunt. The squelching noises from his movements turn your cheeks red, you move to hide your face in the crook of his neck once more, but a hand on your chin stops you. From above, Aemond’s lilac eye bores into your own, like a spell, you are unable to look away.

Aemond’s thrusting becomes faster, harder, like a man starved. The grasp on your chin returns to your hips. As Aemond rolls back slightly, sitting on his knees, he brings your hips to meet his, your back still on the bed. From this angle he has full control over your body, not that he hadn’t before. But now he could control his thrusts, making them sharper, harder. Beneath him, your eyes screw shut in pleasure, consumed by his ministrations. 

You look beautiful like this, he thinks. Cheeks red, hair a mess, sweat glistening on your skin. He had been a fool before, not indulging you more often. Not being by your side, it was a mistake he would make no more. He had been too afraid of your rejection, too afraid you would find him repulsive because of his scar. The scar that he himself found so disturbing. But clearly, the way his name fell from your lips, as your face contorted in pleasure, this was not the case. 

“Shall I cum inside of your perfect cunt? Shall I plant my seed, and watch you grow and swell with my child?” He barely recognized the words coming from his lips, too lost in carnal desire to notice. 

“Yes, yes Aemond, yes–” the words leaving your lips like a hymn, a prayer to your lord husband. Aemond’s fingers began to circle your bud as he continued to rut into you. 

“Together then, I can feel you little wife–” As if he possessed some kind of magic, you did as commanded. Aemond’s release coating your walls, both of you warm and well sated. Once more he leans down, leaving a small peck on your lips before resting his forehead on yours. 

“I have been a fool, a complete and utter fool. I am not a great man in many ways my sweet lady wife. But for you perhaps I could be,” He places another kiss on your lips. 

“I would like that very much Aemond,” you smile a bit as you say this because it is true and it would be unfair to not allow him to prove as much. After all, that is what you asked of him is it not? Without pulling out or away from you, Aemond rolls to his side, tucking you into him, desperate to keep you in his arms. 

“Stay like this with me tonight, please?” He asks, afraid you’ll send him away. 

“Tonight and every night if you behave,” you give him a slight pinch to add emphasis to your comment. You feel his chest vibrate against your cheek with laughter. 

“As you wish,” he says one final time, as the two of you drift off to sleep, held safely in the arms of one another.

[sluttywonwoo]

18+ ; mdni // edging, dirty talk, regular freak shit

“leave it on,” hyunjin grunts as he spins you around and bends you over the bed.

your hands fall from the hem of your dress to catch yourself before you flop face-first onto the mattress.

your boyfriend simply pushes the fabric up around your hips and moves your panties to the side so that he can slip two fingers inside of you.

“we’ve got all night,” he continues, “i’m sure it’ll come off at some point.”

you start to moan, only to be cut off by your boyfriend’s free hand covering your mouth.

“the walls are thin, baby. wouldn’t want to get a noise complaint.”

you nod in understanding and he removes his hand, slipping his thumb into your mouth for you to suck on instead. you hum around it happily, earning a sound of approval from hyunjin.

you’re still a little tipsy from dinner so it doesn’t take you long at all to get close. you want to chase the feeling, push yourself over the edge, but you know your boyfriend won’t let you off that easily. he knows your body like the back of his hand and as soon as he can tell you’re about to cum, he’ll stop.

you’re proven right only moments later when he pulls his fingers out of you and delivers a firm smack to your clit. you choke back a yelp, sucking harder on his thumb to swallow the sound.

he draws back to admire the state of you, taking his other hand with him as well. “your pussy looks so pretty like this, baby. so drippy and wet. fucking need to taste it.”

you expect to feel his tongue on your cunt after he says that but to your dismay, all you hear is the sound of him licking your arousal off of his fingers.

“jinnie,” you whine.

“hm?”

“you’re so mean!”

your boyfriend tsks as he reaches forward and grabs your jaw so that he can force you to look back at him.

“is that any way to speak to a lover?”

you want to roll your eyes at him but you’re certain it’ll earn you another slap.

“i’m sorry.”

he grins and strokes your cheek affectionately. “that’s my girl.”

“jinnie?”

“yes, baby?”

“can you touch me some more? i-i won’t cum until you say, promise.”

“of course, my love. how do you want me to touch you? you want my cock?”

you’ve been able to feel how hard he is through his pants, hips pressed up against you as he fingered you from behind. hell, he’d probably been hard from the second you stepped into the elevator, maybe longer. because your boyfriend loves hotel sex. he loves getting to fuck you in new places, new beds. when you’re on vacation you have to drag him out of the room to go do things and see the sights. if he had it his way you’d spend the whole trip exactly like this— sweaty and panting and spread open for him.

“please…” you whisper.

hyunjin smirks and releases the hold he has on your face to unbuckle his belt.

“you can have it,” he says, “but remember, these walls are thin.”

[nikyu0]

Are there any fun shenanigans that unfold after the bond in the avatar au? after the angst dies ofc

I actually still have a lot of ideas with the other arcane characters that happen before the bond! Although ldk lf I'm gonna be able to draw them all, because some of the ideas are very lengthy. So, I might as well practice my writing!

One of the ideas involves how Jayce and Viktor begin their relationship with the tribe in the first place.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Jayce and Viktor have been out on their research trips for a couple of days now. Sergent Caitlyn Kiramman, a fellow avatar driver with combat training, accompanies them for protection. Although they have been exploring the deeper forest for a while, all they have encountered so far was peaceful fauna, yet none of the natives.

"I wasn't expecting that we were so good at hiding our presence to not even spot one na'vi." Jayce remarks as he tries to keep up with Viktor's pace.

"They've known we are here the moment we got off the military base." Viktor assures him while looking down at his tablet. "Afterall, we are in their domain. Just because we don't see them, does not mean they are not here, no?"

The eeriness of Victor's comment made Caitlyn's ears twitch, she couldn't help but look up at the thick tree crowns and scanning through them. As they continued through the forest, she grabbed her firearm tighter.

The trio reaches a cliff that opens a view to the base of the Hallelujah Mountains. All of them in awe as they watch the floating rocks defy gravity right infront of their eyes.

Unfortunately, the devices that were helping them navigate the forest so far, start to act up because of the strong magnetic fields surrounding the mountains. The group begins to consider returning to the base to prepare for tomorrow, when they suddenly hear the sound of a cry, a na'vi battle cry.

They have been spotted by 4 na'vi flying their Ikran, the one leading the patrol being Ekko (in this AU refered as "Eko", is a young warrior na'vi from the tribe that Jayce and Viktor are going to be working with later on. Although smaller than his fellow tribe members, he is known for his skilled flying, amazing scouting and leadership qualities).

He was informed by Vi, who suspected that dreamwalkers started roaming around the forest but was unsure how deep they might enter. Confiming her suspicions, Eko spots the trio too deep for his comfort in the tribes territories, on one of his flying patrols.

He was about to descend to confront them when he noticed the outsiders strangly waving at him in panic and the one with the weapon aming past him. Eko turns back to the sudden calls of his fellow tribemates. That is when he sees the Toruk above him, who was diving straight down to Eko, claws ready to grab him. An air chase through the mountains happens and he finally loses Toruk when he flies through the dense forest which annoyingly results in him falling off his ikran. Although the fall was softened by the big leaves, it still results in him getting injured enough to not make it back alone. His Ikran and fellow tribemates not hearing his calls for help.

That is when he gets discovered by our avatar trio. In an attempt to scare them off, he tries to stand up and grab his knife but yelps in pain. Viktor and Jayce try to calm him down to get closer to examine his wound, but it takes a while, especially with Caitlyn and her firearm facing him. Eko does finally let the two scientists inspect him when they start speaking na'vi and tell Caitlyn to step back.

Viktor tries to create a temporary brace out of branches for Eko but is unable to break the thick wood, frustrated at the tools he has at hand.

"Ugh, we don't have the right equipment here! Only if the labs were closer..." "May I try?" Jayce squats besides Viktor, who states that it is useless but does not stop Jayce from taking the branch. Jayce inspects the thick stick while holding it in his gloved hands, determining how much force he would need to use. "Jayce, I really don't think-." He snaps it with ease before Viktor could finish his sentence.

"Oh! That was easier than I expected... You sure this works as a good support? Maybe I should look for another one?"

Both Viktor and Eko were baffled at what they just witnessed, it wasn't unrealistic but it was definitely surprising to see. The hardness of that branch could compare to a thinner metal rod, and there you have Jayce just snap it in half with no trouble. He continues to ramble about the branch unaware of Viktor's perplexion. Eko simply muttering a low "Tewti.." (translation "what the heck...").

(Turns out Jayce is much stronger than the average na'vi, his Avatar builds muscle much more easily. Similar to Jake Sully.)

The 3 help Eko back to the tribe, where they are already expected. A crowd forms around them, many wary but many curious about the dreamwalkers since this clan had no prior interactions with them, besides through stories from other tribes. Before the leader and tsahik aproaches them, a na'vi, Jinx (in the AU refered as Tsyensk, a peculiar but very creative and innovative na'vi with a strong connection to Eywa, she usually keeps her distance from the tribe in self-exile because of her emotional unpredictability) jumps down from above the trees to check on Eko.

Caitlyn furrows her brow and points out to the two scientists in english that the na'vi girl has been following them since the they found Eko, what none of the 3 expected is that Tsyensk would reply back in english!

[sosa2imagines]

Hiii please can I ask for a Steve x reader where they have broke up for some stupid reason and the whole Avengers team trying to make them up again? Maybe something like a team-trip and they get them "stuck" in a "only one-bed" situqtion or Bucky/Thor trying to flirt with the reader in a Tony party just to make Steve jealous and make a move. Thanks 🫶🏻

Hi thanks for this ask. I have used both of the suggestions and I hope you like it. Warning- Angst, fluff, idiots in love, misunderstanding.

The party was in full swing, the hum of conversation and laughter echoing through Tony’s sprawling penthouse. You found yourself in a corner, nursing a glass of something you weren’t entirely sure was non-alcoholic, avoiding Steve like the plague. After the last mission, it was easier this way, less awkward, less painful.  

That mission. Damn that mission!

It had started as a straightforward retrieval op, but things had gone south fast. You’d disobeyed Steve’s orders, convinced there was a better way to secure the asset without risking innocent lives. Your plan worked, but the fallout had been brutal. Steve had confronted you the moment you were back at the compound, his anger laced with something deeper, disappointment, frustration, hurt.  

“Do you even trust me?” he’d asked, his voice low and wounded.  

Your response had been defensive, born of exhaustion and stubbornness. “Do you trust me? Or do you just want someone who’ll follow orders without question?”  

It was the kind of argument that didn’t end in resolution but in silence, the air between you heavy with everything you didn’t say. Two days later, you broke up.  

Now here you were, trying to pretend you weren’t glancing at Steve every few minutes as he stood across the room, talking to Natasha. You wondered if she knew. Probably, Natasha knew everything.  

Unbeknownst to you, the rest of the team had noticed the tension and decided to take matters into their own hands.  

“Alright, here’s the plan,” Sam said, leaning over the bar where Tony and Bucky were gathered. Thor joined them, a gleam of mischief in his eye. “Steve’s too stubborn to admit he still loves her. So, we make him jealous.”  

“What are you thinking?” Tony asked, turning to look at Sam and Thor. Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking just as puzzled, “How?” Bucky asked, his tone skeptical.  

Sam grinned. “Thor and you are gonna flirt with her. Get under his skin, make him realize what he’s missing.”  

Thor’s booming laugh earned a few side-eyes from partygoers. “I am more than willing to assist in this endeavor. Who could resist the charm of a god?”  

“Subtlety’s key, big guy,” Sam muttered, patting Thor’s arm.  

It didn’t take long for the chaos to begin.  

Thor approached you first, his smile dazzling. “Lady Y/n,” he greeted, taking your hand and bowing dramatically. “You are radiant tonight, as always.”  

You blinked at him, a laugh escaping before you could stop it. “Thank you, Thor. That’s sweet of you.”  

From across the room, Steve’s posture stiffened, his jaw clenching. Natasha raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Interesting.”  

Next came Bucky, his approach smoother but no less deliberate. “Hey, doll,” he said, his voice low and familiar. His hand brushed your arm as he leaned in. “You look incredible tonight. Mind if I steal you for a dance?”  

Your cheeks flushed. “What’s going on with you two tonight? Did Tony spike the drinks or something?”  

Bucky chuckled, but his gaze flicked toward Steve for a brief moment. “Just saying what I feel.”  

Steve, who had been silently watching the exchange, clenched his jaw, his gaze on Bucky and you. He was clearly bothered by the scene unfolding in front of him. Steve’s glass hit the bar harder than necessary, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. His expression was thunderous as he shot Bucky and Thor a glare before abruptly turning on his heel and leaving the room without a word.  

“Steve?” you called after him, your voice lost in the music and chatter. He didn’t stop, the doors to the balcony swinging shut behind him before he disappeared entirely.  

“What the hell was that about?” you muttered, turning to Bucky, who looked sheepish.  

“Uh, maybe we went a little overboard,” Bucky admitted, scratching the back of his neck.  

“Overboard with what?” you demanded, your frustration growing.  

Sam approached with an innocent grin that didn’t fool you in the slightest. “Just trying to give Captain Grumpybear a little nudge in the right direction.”  

“What?”  

“You two are miserable without each other,” Sam said, shrugging. “We were just trying to help.”  

Your heart clenched as his words sank in. Miserable wasn’t the word you’d have used, at least not out loud, but it wasn’t entirely wrong, either.  

Tony, overhearing, smirked from the bar. “You’ve got to hand it to him…Rogers has perfected the art of storming out dramatically.”  

“Real helpful, Tony,” you snapped before turning back to Sam. “What do I do now?”  

Sam gave you a knowing look. “You go after him. Talk to him. The rest of us did our part, it’s your turn now.”  

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. Clutching your glass tightly, you headed toward the balcony, hoping Steve hadn’t gone too far.  

Behind you, Thor clapped Sam on the back with a booming laugh. “A most excellent plan!”  

Bucky shook his head, “Yeah, except for the part where I nearly got murdered.” 

The cold night air on the balcony seemed to cut through your resolve as you found Steve leaning against the railing, his shoulders tense and jaw tight. His gaze was fixed on the city lights, but you knew his mind was elsewhere, likely back in that room, reliving whatever had caused him to storm out.  

“Steve,” you started softly, approaching him.  

He didn’t turn around. “Go back to the party.”  

“I’m not leaving until we talk.”  

That earned a bitter chuckle. He finally turned to face you, his blue eyes sharp and guarded. “Talk? About what? How you let Thor and Bucky flirt with you like it’s some kind of game?”  

Your mouth fell open, incredulous. “Let them? Steve, I had no idea what they were doing! I thought Thor was just being, well, Thor, and Bucky...”  

“Don’t!” Steve interrupted, his tone laced with anger. “Don’t defend them. Do you have any idea how it felt, watching them act like that? Watching you laugh with them?”  

“Steve, that’s not fair,” you argued, stepping closer. “They’re our friends. And I…”  

“Friends,” he spat, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t do this, Y/n.”  

He turned away again, his broad back a wall you couldn’t seem to break through. Frustrated, you finally gave up and returned to the party, your chest aching.  

The next day, Natasha strode into the common area with a smug smile that immediately set everyone on edge.  

“I’ve got a plan…” she declared, crossing her arms.  

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Another one? Because the last one almost got us all killed.”  

Tony, who had been nursing a cup of coffee, raised an eyebrow. “What kind of plan?” he asked.

“Watch and learn!” Natasha said, smirking.  

The plan was simple, send you and Steve on a mission. Steve's eyes had widened when he heard the news. He did exchange a glance with you, the implication not going unnoticed. “Oh, great...”/ he muttered under his breath.

Before you knew it, you and Steve were assigned to a mission together. Natasha conveniently left out the detail that the safe house you’d be staying at had… limited accommodations.  

The tension was palpable the moment you and Steve arrived. The safe house was small, with a single bedroom, a tiny kitchen, and a living area that felt more like a closet.  

Steve grunted as he set down his bag. “Not much, but it’ll do.”  

You ignored him, dropping your gear on the table and surveying the room. The bed caught your attention immediately.

One bed. Of course.  

“Don’t even start!” Steve muttered, catching your look.  

“I wasn’t going to!” you shot back, already irritated.  

The next few hours were filled with petty bickering. You struggled to reach the top shelf in the kitchen, refusing to ask for help. Steve watched you for a moment, then muttered under his breath as he came over to grab what you needed.  

“You’re welcome.” he said, handing it to you.  

“I didn’t ask for your help!” you snapped, cheeks heating.  

“And yet, here we are…” he replied, walking away.  

When it came time to gear up for the mission, you predictably forgot to strap your knife correctly. Steve, out of habit, fixed it for you without a word.  

“I can do it myself…” you grumbled.  

“You never could…” he retorted, his fingers deftly securing the blade.  

Later, when Steve came back with a shallow cut on his arm, you instinctively grabbed the med kit and started cleaning the wound. He watched you in silence, his gaze softening despite himself.  

“You don’t have to…” he murmured.  

“Shh…I always do.” you replied, your voice quieter now.

But the real test came, when it came time to sleep. That’s when the real battle began.  

“I’m taking the bed!” you declared, crossing your arms.  

Steve raised an eyebrow, like hell you are getting the bed, “We’re sharing it.”  

“Like hell we are.” you mumbled.

You then told Steve to turn around so that you can change your clothes. But Steve simply shrugged, seeing no point in turning around.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you without clothes before,” Steve said, smirking and your face turned crimson. “Steve!” you hissed, throwing a pillow at him.  

Eventually, you both relented, setting a clear line down the middle of the bed. “This is my side!” you warned.  

“Fine…” he said, lying down already dozing off to sleep.

But as the night wore on, old habits took over. You turned in the middle of the night and curled against his chest, his arm draped protectively around you. Steve instinctively pulled you closer.  

The next day, as the sunlight shined in the room, you stirred awake to the feeling of soft lips pressing against your forehead. Your eyes fluttered open to find Steve gazing down at you, his expression unguarded for the first time in weeks.  

“Steve…” you whispered, your heart pounding.  

“Morning…” he murmured, his voice warm and familiar.  

The moment shattered when you both realized the state you were in. Scrambling apart, you began arguing again, this time over who got to shower first.  

“It’s my turn!” you insisted, clutching your towel.  

Steve smirked. “We could always save time and…”  

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Rogers!” you snapped, shoving him aside, though Steve saw the way you blushed.

Later, as you sat across from him, the tension finally broke. Steve couldn’t take it anymore and neither could you. 

“I miss you…” he admitted, his voice soft. “Every damn day, I miss you.”  

You swallowed hard, your defenses crumbling. “I miss you too. But you have to trust me, Steve. I’m not your soldier, I’m your partner.”  

He nods, his blue eyes earnest. “I know. And I’m sorry. I should’ve trusted you then, and I should’ve listened.”  

Before you could respond, he leaned across the table and kissed you, his lips capturing yours in a way that made your heart race.  

When he pulled back, you smirked. “Tit for tat,” you said, as you pulled him in for another kiss.  

You and Steve talked. Talked about trust, understanding, communication, respect. By the end of the conversation, you and Steve decided to start afresh.

When you and Steve returned, hand in hand, the team was waiting. Natasha’s smug grin was matched by Sam’s triumphant cheer.  

“Finally!” Sam yelled, high-fiving Bucky.  

Even Tony clapped sarcastically. “Congrats, lovebirds. Don’t ever make us suffer through that tension again.”  

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling, especially when Steve’s fingers tightened around yours.  

Everyone was happy, but not more than you and Steve.

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[nerdygirlramblings]

Off to See the Wizard (5)

previous | next

It takes you over an hour to get your brain online because after that talk at breakfast, John walked you to your office and kissed you. It was a kiss on the cheek, but still.

His lips.

Your skin.

Your brain short-circuted.

There was no way to deny it, even to yourself: Captain John Price was interested. In you. Romantically.

You try to shove the little gleeful voice - the one with crushes on all your boys - to the side so you can work. But she keeps chirping about the kiss. About how his beard felt, rough and soft at the same time. About how warm his lips were. About the promise look in his eyes as he pulled back and whispered, "'Til later, dove"

You finally put the kiss in a box of 'Things to Deal With Later' and focus on digging back through mission intel again. You flag two items to bring up with Laswell and a third to follow-up with John about. You're not sure how a closed door meeting with the captain will go after this morning's display, and you pray he's better at separating work and play than you.

You find your groove and are startled by a knock at your office door. You glance at the clock and see it's nearly 2. After being so rattled by John's admission, you'd gotten into the zone and practically missed lunch. You almost expect it's going to be one of your boys. You don't know if you want them to come to you or not.

You're surprised to find Corporal Avery on the other side. "Ma'am," she inclines her head politely. "Cap'n Price wanted to make sure you ate. Told me to help you find the mess and said to tell you, 'I know you're a big girl, but you haven't tried to find your way around on your own yet.' 'm supposed to let you lead and correct the path if necessary." She looks apologetic as she says it, like she understands the ridiculous nature of the command, but since it is a command, she's going to follow it.

You close up your workspace and follow the corporal into the hall where she lets you take the lead. You're loathe to admit you probably need the guide as the corporal corrects your directions at least twice. At least she's polite about it. "Almost got it, ma'am. Another trip and you won't need help at all."

Lunch is a quiet affair as most of the mess has already cleared out. Corporal Avery stays with you but tells you she ate with her squad earlier. "Don't want you to eat alone," she says. "Besides, I wanna make sure you've got the route between your office and food down pat as my guess is your barracks, your office, and the mess are where you'll spend time while the 141 is on mission."

You hadn't given much thought to what you'd do when the boys are gone, but it strikes you suddenly how lonely things will be. You only know your boys, and now Corporal Avery, but that doesn't leave much for socialization when they're away. "Hey, Corporal? Is there someplace on base - besides the mess - people hang out? Like, I dunno, a base rec room or something?"

She looks at you for a long moment, her brow furrowed in question before a look of understanding passes over her face. "Uh, yeah. There are a few. I'd be happy to show you where they are, introduce you to a few other soldiers and civilian employees." You smile gratefully at her, glad she picked up your subtext. "We can do it after the 141 are gone."

The latter part of your day is spent contemplating Corporal Avery's comment to you. You'd been a little surprised when she hadn't offered to show you to the base common spaces sooner, so you asked. She floored you when she admitted she could but "thought, what with them leaving, you'd like to spend as much time as possible with Captain Price first."

Are your desires, or his, that obvious? Certainly she'd seen the two of you together in the hallway that morning, but that couldn't have been enough for her to draw the conclusions she was drawing, was it? And if so, is she telling other people? Does the whole base know? Does the rest of the 141?

You know you're spiraling, but you can't seem to stop yourself. It takes a series of repeated knocks at your door and someone calling your name for you to come back to yourself. You see it's about 7:00 and expect this is someone - Corporal Avery or one of the boys - come to drag you to dinner.

You open your office door and see Simon standing in the hall. He's still wearing a mask, but you see enough of his eyes to tell he's smiling. "Evenin' luv," he says, stepping up beside you. "Ready for a meal?" You nod at him and start walking toward the mess, ready to show him you can find you way without getting lost.

As you walk, he matches your stride and casually drapes an arm over your shoulder. "Look a' ya, already a natural on base. 'S like you belong here." You beam at the praise and don't miss the way his arm tightens ever so slightly at his last comment.

"Like havin' you 'ere, luv," he says, so quietly you can act like you didn't hear it. And you're tempted to ignore it because that's a lot easier than dealing with what it might mean. When your silence stretches too long, however, Simon slows you both down. "D'ya like bein' 'ere?"

You give an enthusiastic, if non-committal, "Of course!"

"D'ya like bein' with me?"

You're almost at the mess, can see the door from here, but you stop dead in your tracks at his question. "What?" you squeak out.

Simon turns to look directly in your eyes. The emotion in his gaze is raw: desire, fear, vulnerability. He searches you long enough you feel he's looking at your soul. "I need to know, luv, if ya like me."

You try to go for a quip, but it dies on your lips. You whisper, "I'm not sure what you want me to say, Simon. I'm not sure what to do here."

He looks pained when he pleads, "Say ya wan' me like I wan' you."

And for the second time today, your brain simply stops responding.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

~~

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[trashytracktales]

I absolutely love your writing!!!!!! I have a bit of a longer request, you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to.

Lando and y/n meet through a mutual friend, and they both feel an immediate attraction. A few months later, they’re on a group trip—maybe at a beach villa or a mountain house for skiing. One day during the trip, they both decide to stay in, each thinking they’re alone.

Lando, believing he has the place to himself, starts masturbating on the sofa in the living room. Around the same time, y/n comes into the living room, planning to watch TV. She spots Lando on the sofa but doesn’t immediately realize what he’s doing as she was behind the sofa and a few steps away —until he moans her name. She kind of hides herself and spies on him until she gets enough courage and goes to him and asks him if she can help him and basically she goes on her knees right in front of him and starts sucking him off and he’s so surprised and turned on that he doesn’t know what to say or do other than moan her name and praise her

Deep in the Alps | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Sorry for keeping you waiting, I had a few works in progress + another request that came in before this one. Enjoy 🤍🎀

❄ summary ──── What begins as a private moment turns into something unexpected and, with a few days of vacation left, Lando is determined to make every moment count, setting the stage for an unforgettable getaway that blurs the lines between friendship and something far more... exciting.

❄ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

❄ rating ──── explicit

❄ category ──── F/M

❄ warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, slight fluff & smut, teasing, explicit language, horny thoughts, masturbation, oral sex ─ (m)receiving, low-key whiney Lando.

❄ word count ──── 4.1k

❄ date ──── Dec. 2, 2024

OF ALL THE people in his friend group, Lando looked forward to winter break the most. He loves summer, but nothing compares to a holiday deep in the Alps, away from cameras and prying eyes.

Their cabin is covered in a generous layer of snow that glimmers like a sea of diamonds under the pale winter sun. The air is crisp and cold, and everyone is excited for today, considering how much it snowed last night.

The group dynamic is diverse, having friendships that have been inseparable for years, while others are still navigating the early stages of familiarity.

She met them through Pietra a few months ago, but this is the first time she joined the entire group for a holiday. As expected, Lando is the central piece who draws attention through his bad jokes and easygoing charm, being a constant source of amusement for everybody. She, on the other hand, is content to sit back and observe, though she’s found herself smiling at his antics more often than she’d care to admit.

Their days so far have been a blur of early mornings spent carving down snowy trails, afternoons in crowded lodges sipping hot chocolate or mulled wine, and evenings around the fireplace, sharing stories and making more plans to hangout in the future. It was easy for her to fit in because everyone seemed — at least at first — to go out of their way to make her feel welcome and included.

Today, however, a dull headache throbs at her temples, forcing her to opt out of skiing, retreating to her room for a nap and leaving them to bundle up and head out to the slopes.

Lando also stays behind, claiming he’s exhausted from the previous night’s gaming sessions with Max and Morgan. But in reality, he’s just craving a moment of quiet, which is a rarity for him.

Outside, the snow glistens with an almost blinding brightness, reflecting the sunlight in too sharply. Lando had made a point to pull the curtains earlier, and now, the dimly lit living room is perfect for lounging on the couch with a blanket draped over his lap. The movie playing on the TV is a vague blur of sound and color in the background, abandoned halfway through in favor of his phone, which is much more interesting at the moment.

He scrolls through his Instagram feed, pausing on a group photo they took when they first arrived at the location. The image lingers on the screen, and his focus sharpens, studying everybody's face until he gets to her. She’s in the center, barely noticeable because of how small she looks like next to the others, bundled up in her pink jacket, her knit beanie perched perfectly atop her head, with loose strands of hair curling around her face. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, and her smile is soft but radiant.

Lando exhales sharply, the pressure building low in his stomach catching him off guard. He tries to shake it off, tries to remind himself that she’s just a girl that hangs out with them from time to time.

Just a girl. That's all.

However, he can't explain how she managed to get under his skin so quickly. They are polar opposites of each other, and Lando noticed that. She's so quiet and reserved, yet somehow captivating in a way he can’t quite understand — it’s frustrating, really. Maybe that's exactly what gets him, making him wonder what it would take to make her lose that composure.

No. He can't go there.

Although…

He lets his thumb brush against the screen, zooming in on her face. A low groan escapes his throat as he recalls the way she looked last night, perched on the arm of a chair while everyone chatted around her, her lips quirking up at his dumb joke; she was the only one that understood it, and he caught that. Such a stupid joke, it wasn't even funny. But she laughed.

Why does she have to laugh at his jokes? More importantly, why does he want to make jokes all the time, just so he can hear her laugh?

“Get a grip, mate,” he whispers to himself under his breath, his free hand shifting lower, sliding under the waistband of his sweats. It’s instinctive, his body reacting to thoughts he’s been suppressing for a while now. “Not that kind of grip, fuck’s sake.”

He can't stop but think of how she would've laughed at that, too.

Lando closes his eyes, his strokes slow at first as he lets the thoughts flood in — it’s a good thing no one can read his mind at the moment. He thinks of her lips and how they part slightly when she’s surprised, and the way her teeth graze her bottom lip when she’s lost in thought. He can't help but imagine those lips closing around his cock, and what her voice would sound like if he fucked her pretty mouth.

“Come on,” he gasps, frustration tugging at the edge of his patience.

His pace quickens as his mind wanders further, seeing her with his mind's eye lying delicately beneath him, small and innocent, breathing in short spasms, and asking him for more. Her softness and the way she carries herself makes him want to see her like that — in a different light, flushed and undone. The image of her laughing at one of his ridiculous attempts to impress her spurs him on, and his hand tightens, his strokes becoming rougher as his breathing grows heavier.

That's when she realizes what she's walked in on.

All this time, she thought she was all alone and, judging by the scene in front of her, he thinks that, too. Her heart thuds wildly as she tries to process it, too stunned to move another muscle. His breaths are ragged, and she feels the tension radiating off him even from where she stands, frozen in place — at the base of the stairs, behind the couch. She knows she should leave and spare them both from an embarrassing encounter, but something keeps her there.

Closing her eyes, she squeezes the railing nervously. She barely got rid of her headache, but now her head's all dizzy from Lando's rough grunts that are echoing throughout the room.

He sounds as if he ran a marathon, barefoot, in the rain.

He sounds tired, but he's aggressive, like it's making him mad — the rhythmic slap of his fist against skin making her mouth water and stomach tighten.

He sounds... delicious.

And then, her eyes snap open.

She blinks rapidly as if that will help her hear better. His voice, low and needy, whispers her name like a prayer, again and again, a desperate sound that escapes his mouth deliberately. It echoes in the room and within the walls of her skull, pulling Lando deeper into the fantasy that he’s helpless to resist — and her, towards him.

Heat floods her cheeks, a mix of surprise, shock, and something deeper spreading through her as she tries to control her breathing.

How can she simply leave, when her name hangs on the corner of his mouth, so drenched in want? It's too late now. She doesn’t think anymore, doesn’t stop to analyze what she’s about to do; she simply trusts her instincts, as she always did.

Lando doesn’t hear her approach, lost in the haze of his own thoughts, his hand moving rhythmically under the blanket. His moans get increasingly louder, so obscene in her ears. It's like they call for her, alluring and profound, and she can’t say no.

Quietly stepping closer, she leans over the back of the couch, her hand reaching out as if it has a mind of its own. When her fingers slide over his, Lando's body stiffens, his breath catching in his throat.

“Relax,” she whispers, her voice soft and filled with anticipation, causing him to drop the phone somewhere on the couch.

He tilts his head back, wide eyes meeting hers, his face flushed and disbelieving. Her sweet perfume takes over his senses, getting him high on it.

He's surely dreaming, because there is no way in hell that she is real.

“What—”

“It's okay,” she assures him, her hand gently guiding his to resume its movement. “Let me help.”

Lando yelps, his head dropping back against the couch, their faces so close to each other as her grip steadies him, matching the pace he had before. The light weight of her hand over his sends a jolt through his body, his brain so close to shutting down for good, while his chest is rising and falling rapidly as she coaxes him closer to the edge.

What in the fuck is happening?

“Does that feel good, pretty boy?” she asks, her lips dangerously close to his.

Lando nods as his hips jerk involuntarily. He refuses to believe it's because of the pet name she just gave him; he is way too strong to fall for that.

Still, he closes his eyes again, biting at his lower lip to stop his whimpers from cascading out of his mouth. There is a small trace of cold sweat pooling on his forehead as her hand moves with his until his entire body tenses, and he finally lets out a deep, guttural moan, her name falling from his lips again, more like a warning this time. He knows he's close, so he tries to push her hand away to avoid the mess that he's about to make. But she stays ferm, using her free palm to push his head in the crook of her neck and caress his cheek softly. His breath falls hot on her skin, and when she starts encouraging him, it's enough for Lando to let go, thick splashes covering his lower abdomen before he can even think. The rest spills over their their joined hands, managing to get another grunt of pleasure out of him.

“There you go,” she says, tracing her thumb over his cum-soaked head, feeling him throbbing beneath her touch. “Such a hot view.”

For a litte while, the room falls silent except for Lando's labored breathing. She moves to sit beside him on the couch, giving him a moment to recover; his eyes are still closed, because how the fuck is he supposed to look at her now?

After that, she throws the tissue box at him, letting out a soft chuckle at his pathetic attempt to catch it.

Exhaling sharply, Lando drags his hands down his face, still avoiding the eye contact. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

She chuckles again, studying him closely, while he squeezes his eyes shut as if he can erase the last few minutes from existence. Except he doesn't really want to.

They sit in silence for another moment before she shifts, crossing her legs and facing him fully. “Did it happen before?” she asks curiously.

His eyes widen slightly, finally looking at her, “What? Of course not.”

Her brow lifts, amused. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying,” he insists, his voice pitching higher.

Her lips curl into a knowing smile. “You always glance around when you’re lying, like you’re checking to see if anyone buys it. You just did it,” she points out.

Lando sighs, dragging a hand through his curls. “Right. That obvious?”

She leans in, nodding, all the amusement gone. “When?”

He hesitates, clearly debating how much to say, but her expectant gaze leaves him no choice. “It started after the Singapore weekend,” he admits, his voice low.

Her mouth goes dry. That was the weekend Pietra first introduced them. Lando had won that Sunday, and the after party was the craziest she'd been to yet.

“You wore that top, and—”

She frowns. “That top?”

“You know the one,” he says, gesturing vaguely at his chest. “It was black, low-cut, and — look, you just looked really good, okay? I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“My top?” she grins, leaning her elbow on the back of the couch as she watches him squirm.

Your tits, he wants to say, but stops before he embarrasses himself even more.

“You've never said anything,” the girl continues, “Why?”

Lando breaths in slowly, running a hand through his tousled curls again, the tips of his ears burning. “Because of P,” he admits. “She told me how much she liked having you around, and I didn’t want to mess that up. She’d kill me if she thought I scared you off or made things weird.”

Her brow lifts, amusement flickering in her expression once again. “You’re scared of Pietra?”

“A little,” he jokes, though his crooked smile falters under her probing stare. “But mostly, I didn’t want to ruin anything for you. I figured it was better to keep my mouth shut. You seem to enjoy your time with us, and I want you around, too.”

She tilts her head, studying his face in the dim light. His piercing eyes are framed by soft, dark brows, and she can’t help but imagine tracing her fingers through his soft curls. The faint facial hair adds a maturity to his otherwise boyish features, making her swallowing hard.

Bottom line, she is attracted to him, even more so now that she knows the feeling is mutual.

“Well, that’s… considerate,” she replies, her lips curving slightly.

Lando chuckles nervously, though the sound dies quickly when her hand moves, her fingertips brushing over his bicep. The contact is featherlight, but it sets his skin ablaze, his breath hitching as she lets her hand glide down his arm, tracing the curve of his muscle with an idle curiosity that feels anything but innocent.

“And now?” she comes back to her initial curiosity, her voice dipping, almost teasing. “What’s stopping you now?”

His throat tightens, words tangling in his mind as she looks at him, her eyes glittering with something that makes his cock throb against his thigh. Lando was sure that he had her figured out. But now, as she leans closer, her lips parting slightly as if to taste the tension hanging between them, he realizes how wrong he was.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” states Lando, ignoring her question, “The ones who seem all shy and innocent, hm?”

“I am shy and innocent,” she agrees with a nod, which makes him scoff. “Alright, maybe not that shy. Or innocent.”

Recognizing that doesn't make Lando's job any easier. Quite the opposite. He's more intrigued as to what secrets she may be hiding beneath her deceptive surface.

“So… since we agreed on that. Is there something else I can help you with?” she murmurs, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she gazes at him expectantly.

Lando brings his hand to rest on hers, his restraint hanging by a thread. “You don’t—have to.”

“But I want to,” she rushes to say, her tone decisive.

With that, she shifts slowly, lowering herself to her knees in front of him with an ease that makes his chest burn. Her hands rest lightly on his thighs, her gaze lifting to meet his, and in her eyes, he finds no hesitation, no doubt. Only intent, want, and excitement.

Stil, he needs to ask, “Are you sure?” he breathes, his voice barely audible.

Instead of answering using her words, her fingers grasp the edge of the blanket, freeing him from under it. She has to muffle a groan of surprise when she sees all of him in its entirety, still half-hard, resting heavily on his thigh.

“See, I knew you had a pretty cock,” she says matter-of-factly, mostly to herself. “I mean, it makes sense. So is your face.”

Lando’s hands flex at his sides, “You’re gonna ruin me,” he mutters, voice hoarse, but he doesn’t stop her as her fingers curl around his length, her movements deliberate and sure.

“Oh no,” she teases sarcastically, her grin widening as she leans forward, her touch igniting a fire that spreads through him like wildfire. “I kind of hoped it would be the other way around.”

“That can be arranged,” he assures her, hissing at her movements.

She needs both of her hands to take him properly: one wrapped around the base to hold him steady, while the other pumps him a few times to get him hard, before dragging her mouth down the sides. And, because she's the literal devil, she makes sure she holds his gaze while she takes the head in her mouth — warm, inviting, and so wet.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his hand fisting the blanket at his side.

She starts slowly, testing her movements first. It's a good thing she's already imagined this before, and now her mouth water on its own when she takes him in, inch by inch. Until she gets to her hand that stokes his base lightly. It makes her feel so full, which is ridiculous considering that he's about to fuck her mouth, and not her pussy. Still, her walls clench hard on nothing as she pulls him all the way out.

“Fuck,” he repeats, “Your mouth is so—fucking hell. You feel so good.”

The cold air after she pulls him out is enveloping his needy cock from every direction, forcing a string of whimpers out of Lando’s throat. It only make her smile as she keeps his eye on him, turning back to licking from the base all the way to his tip, where he started leaking in the meantime, as if she didn't help him jerk off only a few minutes ago.

It's hard to stay focused on her when her tongue seems like it wants to send him into a coma, but it's even harder to take his eyes off her. She looks so good on her knees that his hand almost searches the couch looking for his phone to snap a quick picture. Instead, he is content to imprint her on his memory, confident that he won't forget what she looks like, with her lips around his cock, sucking the life out of him as if hers depends on it.

Even so, Lando needs superhuman powers not to grab the back of her head to guide his cock deeper. He can't do that, though. She did offer to suck him off, but Lando doesn't know her limits yet, and he doesn't want to cross them without knowing. Alternatively, his fists squeeze tighter, sliding his body down on the couch to be closer to her.

Luckily, she gets the memo, taking him deeper into her mouth, bobbing her head a few times before she drags her tongue against the underside of his cock. The feeling makes every cell in his body burn, one at a time. He's had people going down on him before, but no one managed to get all of him in one go, and certainly not the way she does — opening up so wide for him until the tip of her nose taps gently on his base, making her drool messily all over him.

It’s almost too much, and so overwhelming that he forgets how to breathe for a few seconds, the tension in his lower abdomen building at an alarming pace.

“Shit, Lando,” the girl sobs, her eyes teary, “You're big,” she adds, her voice raw as she continues working her hand up and down his length, while catching her breath.

He doesn't need an ego boost, but he's happy to take it as long as it comes from her.

Lando's head falls back against the couch in surrender, just as she squeezes at his thigh with her free hand, only to bring him back to her. But the slick, pornographic sound her hand makes as she rubs him sends Lando straight to his own personal heaven, where his senses are activated exponentially. He's far too lost in the way she makes him feel, that only her mouth sucking hungrily on his tip can bring him back. Her tongue starts circling around it, and Lando’s eyes snap open while he rolls his hips back into her mouth.

She moans in protest, pulling him out again, “Eager boy,” she whispers out of breath. “Are you close?”

“Mhm” whines Lando, finally rising his head to look at her.

And what a rookie mistake that was.

Somehow, she managed to keep that innocence he saw in her ever since they met for the first time. Her big, deer eyes looking back at him while her cheeks are flushed pink, her lips swollen and her chin drenched would usually be his undoing. But she’s still mouthing around his cock, holding him in her delicate hand, so oblivious to the fact that Lando will see exactly that image whenever he closes his eyes, for a long time to come.

Starting now.

She chuckles at his choked hum and the way he seems like he can’t keep his eyes open anymore, “Where do you want it?”

Inside your mouth.

All over your tits.

On your face.

Her colorful giggle brings him back once again, realizing much too late that he said it all out loud.

“You look so hot when you're desperate,” she says, her lips shiny with spit and pre-cum, squeezing him slightly as she traces her thumb over his leaking head.

Normally, he’d have words to counter that, but all he needs right now is to cum, cum, cum. Except she unexpectedly frees him from her grip, forcing Lando to snap at the loss of contact, her lips leaving him cold, wet, hard, sensitive, and so fucking close to the edge.

His legs tense, and a low, guttural groan escapes him without permission. “Why did you—” he begins, his voice breaking. His head snaps forward, another whimper slipping from him as he watches her, wide-eyed and wrecked, struggling to catch his breath. “Fucking hell, what are you doing?”

She silences him by peeling her pajama top off in one smooth move, tossing it aside without hesitation. The gesture is rapid and deliberate, and Lando’s jaw slackens as he takes in the sight of her bare skin, the curve of her chest illuminated by the faint light that’s coming from the TV. His hands twitch on the couch as if he doesn’t know whether to reach for her or keep himself anchored to the seat.

Without a word, she leans forward, her eyes locking with his as she takes him back into her mouth. Her gaze never wavers, and Lando feels like he might combust on the spot.

So beautiful.

She smiles, intertwining her fingers with his, while her other hand wraps around his length, stroking him in rhythm with her mouth. The intimacy of it all, the eye contact, and the sheer devotion in her movements make his mind travel far away.

His muscles tighten, his free hand gripping the back of the couch for support as he feels himself throbbing against her tongue. He can barely form a coherent thought, his body shaking with the effort to hold on just a little longer, even though he knows it's a losing battle.

“Oh, shit,” he murmurs, his voice raw and heavy with need. “Such a perfect mouth, I’m—”

That’s when she pulls back again, and he curses loudly at the loss of her warmth. But before he can beg her to come back, she leans over slightly, guiding his cock as his release spills over her bare chest, the warmth of it contrasting with the cool air.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” Lando cries out, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. “That's so hot.”

She lets out a soft sigh, her lips curving into a satisfied smile as she tilts her head, still maintaining that piercing eye contact.

Lando can’t breathe. He doesn’t know whether to apologize for the mess or worship her for the sight in front of him. Either way, he doesn't even have time to decide. The next second, her mouth falls open, sticking her tongue out to rub his sensitive tip against it, cum and spit dripping down all over her chin.

“Holy shit,” he finally continues, his voice shaky as his eyes are raking over her with a mix of awe and disbelief.

His fingers, still intertwined with hers, tighten their grip, and before she can move away, he uses the leverage to pull her on top of him. She gasps softly at the sudden movement, bracing herself on his shoulders, her flushed face just inches from his.

“Oh, hi,” she says, the sudden closeness catching her off guard.

“Hi,” replies Lando with a little smile in the corner of his mouth, “Swollen lips suit you,” he teases, his voice thick with lingering desire and a touch of his usual smugness. His eyes gleam with a mischievous light as he brushes his thumb over her lower lip, smirking when she playfully hits his chest in response. “Although I’d say you’re missing something.”

“You don’t say?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. “And what’s tha—?”

Lando doesn't let her finish before closing the space between them, capturing her lips with his. The kiss is messy, unrestrained, potentially gross, but he doesn’t care about the lingering remnants of spit and his cum still on her. If anything, it seems to spur him on, his tongue exploring hers with a slow intensity that makes her feel like she’s the only person in the world that has ever caught his attention.

When Lando pulls back, his lips glistening just like hers, he chuckles, wiping his jaw with the back of his hand and giving her an exaggerated grin. “My turn?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[applecrispy]

Oct. 2 ; Begging

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Male! Reader x Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games)

HEADS UP!

Second Kinktober prompt, set! Enjoy this drabble

Ended up being a bit sweeter and not too 'begging' as the prompt said, but hey! There's always another chance to re-write this after kinktober!

Also, ignore the fact I haven't posted day one yet ajdhkcjks I'll probably post it later since I'm a tad stuck on it.

And how out of practice I am in writing- but I swear, all my thirsts will (hopefully) get better overtime!

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Finnick moans, his hands claw at the kitchen counter top as his boyfriend pounds into him from behind. He aches a bit, but god it's amazing and worth it all.

He had teased (Y/n) earlier today, he was in the mood, and seems like (Y/n) was as well after having Finnick drop to his knees and suck him off from under their dinning table. He wouldn't admit it straight up, but Finnick has been itching for his lover's touch since a few days ago when (Y/n) had returned from his trip to District 13 to check in. The kiss they shared at the station, Finnick liked it a bit too much, maybe he missed (Y/n)'s lips against his, the gentle touch on his sides, how he didn’t push him-

"(Y/n)- baby, fuck!" Finnick chokes out, another moan leaving him.

His chest felt cold from being pressed against their marble counter, but (Y/n) simply continued to piston into him. A hand gently holding his thigh up to the side, granting him a new angle, and Finnick felt his legs shake, and at some point he's pinned to the counter. He can barely keep himself up on the floor, and (Y/n) seems to notice because Finnick yelps briefly as he's flipped over and he's now with his back to the counter, staring up at (Y/n) as he hikes his legs up. Now presented with a canvas, Finnick reaches up and wraps his arms around his boyfriend's back, moaning as he tries to bite the noises back by biting his bottom lip.

His hair is disheveled, messy, and not in the usual styled and seductive manner that his ex-stylists used to fix it into, but rather into something raw and honest. His fingers draw down (Y/n)'s back as he shudders and soon sputters on a noise and breath.

"Another- inside, please-" Finnick begs quietly, he doesn’t care how he aches faintly from the past three orgasms he's already had which have stolen all the air from him, he needs another load inside of him. One more.

(Y/n) smiles slightly, both love and pure unadulterated adoration, and he leans down to groan into Finnick's ear "You want another inside? And here I was thinking of pulling out and finishing all over your thighs instead... why so desperate?" He teases, and Finnick scoffs as much as he can before he breaks into a choppy whimper mixed with a moan "I- Oh right there... There! Nail right there!" He can't help but purr out, and when (Y/n)'s thrusts slow and intentionally miss, Finnick is digging his face involuntarily into (Y/n)'s neck "Please- please please... So good, please, inside. Another, right... right tHE-" his words are cut off and hit a high as he throws his head back, and if it weren't for the gentle hand on the back fo his head that stops the movement by catching his head and curling a hand into his hair, Finnick would've slammed his head open. But he's too lost to properly adore the action, instead he only lets out a heavy, and noisey high pitched moan.

(Y/n) had shifted his thrusts, and was now thoroughly fucking into him, right into his prostate as he had asked, and the tease just chuckles breathily.

"There?"

"Yes... Yes! Please inside, inside." His last few words mold into messy shapes and noises, still coherent in a sense, but debaunched with his ecstasy. He lets out another softer whimper, and Finnick swears this man is the only one who has been able to reduce him to these honest words, begs, and noises. He's a mess, but shit it's so nice.

It doesn't take too much longer, and (Y/n) gives a small tug to Finnick's hair, reeling his mind back to quickly ask for honest confirmation "Inside?" And Finnick can't help how he begs.

"YES! Inside, inside, please- please (Y/n), need it. Please, need to feel it, feel you-" and Finnick is cut off with a yelp and moan as his hips are grabbed and he's pulled down to be plush against (Y/n)'s hips. He shudders as a weak orgasm leaves him, untouched, oversensitive, and the feeling of being filled and pumped with a orgasm once more in him, Finnick lets the fingers he hadn’t noticed that dug down (Y/n)'s back fall lax.

He lets his expression drop, content as he bathes in the after glow, breathing in heavily as he lets out weak little noises. He gently holds onto (Y/n) as his partner seems just as breathless as he is, pulling back to smile down at him as Finnick feels his heart briefly flutter at how he looks at him.

"Seems like you've missed me." And Finnick groans in complaint and jokingly tries to shove (Y/n) away with a little tired grin on his own face "Oh piss off!" He scoffs out a playful laugh despite how breathless it sounds, quickly diving in to kiss (Y/n) once more in something sweeter.

Yeah, he had missed him.

[luveline]

Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle). 

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation. 

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be. 

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this. 

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want." 

"Then leave me alone," he says. 

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece. 

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus." 

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions. 

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks. 

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve. 

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep. 

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek. 

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while. 

"I'm so sorry," Remus says. 

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause. 

You struggle to see him in the dark. 

"I should never have spoken to you like that." 

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it." 

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear. 

"I'm too tired," you mumble. 

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front. 

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows. 

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just… 

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word. 

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch. 

"I love you," you say. 

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this. 

"So don't be sorry." 

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way." 

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you." 

"I know," he utters. 

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone." 

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper. 

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that." 

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips. 

"I love you," he says into it. 

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night. 

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?" 

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head. 

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep. 

[fayes-fics]

Notte D'Amore

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Bella Notte. Exactly one year later, you find yourself at Aubrey Hall lake again...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Slight exhibitionism, oral sex (m to f), cunnilingus, vaginal sex, sex underwater, orgasms. Benedict speaking foreign languages, yep, that needs a warning.

Word Count: 3.4k

Authors note: I've finally finished this sequel that I started almost two years ago. You don't need to have read Bella Notte to read this, but it helps with the grounding of the story and shows the growth of their relationship. Thanks as always to the amazing @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

An elegant grandfather clock softly chimes midnight as you pad through the hallway of Aubrey Hall. Struggling to sleep after a rousing midsummer day of Pall Mall, you decide to go for a walk to make yourself drowsy, leaving your husband and beautiful three-month-old baby daughter sleeping soundly. 

Before you know it, you are outside on the rear terrace enjoying the night air. There, you realise that it has been exactly one year since you went for a memorable night swim, just a few short days before your wedding.

Unable to resist, you drift towards that very lake, surveying its serene, moonlit beauty again. You recall with perfect clarity how Benedict stood naked with the water hugging his hips, beckoning you in. And, like so many times since, you joined him in a new adventure. 

Wandering along its edges, you eventually pause to lean against the reddish trunk of a sturdy, towering evergreen. Inhaling deeply, you savour the refreshing fragrance of the pine needles above. Staring out at the glassy surface, vividly remembering how it felt when your husband first kissed you—how your world spun. And you giggle to yourself as you reflect that; even now, all it takes is one brush of his lips, and you are just as swept away, perhaps even more so now, knowing exactly where such journeys can end, a stirring between your legs.

“It was precisely a year ago.” 

His sonorous voice from nearby startles you; you jump and grab your chest, your heart erratic from the shock. You didn’t even hear his approach, so lost in wistful reverie for untold minutes. 

“You half scared me to death!” you scold affectionately, shaking your head as he rounds closer and slides his arms around your waist. He wears a somewhat crumpled white shirt and britches, obviously haphazardly thrown on before leaving your rooms as he always sleeps naked, not something you ever complain about.

“I am so cruel, am I not, my darling?” he chuckles.

“The very worst,” you concur dryly, settling into his embrace, always your very favourite place to be. 

“I do not know how you tolerate me…” he jests mildly, his hands running soothing patterns along your spine.

“Wait! Bella!” you exclaim, pulling back a fraction, concerned about your little bundle of joy.

“She is fine,” he soothes. “Meredith is watching her sleep.”

Your nursery maid is so often a veritable lifesaver.

“Thank you,” you smile as he draws you flush against him once more, rocking you gently in his arms for a few minutes of companionable silence.

“So is this a little trip down memory lane, Mrs Bridgerton?” He asks sotto voce, his warm lips lingering on your temple.

“Perhaps...” you coquette, that kindling flame always smouldering between you.

“Mmm, it was so very memorable,” he hums, his lips tracing over your cheek until he reaches your mouth and seizes it with a brief but fiery kiss. “Do you have any idea how much willpower it took to stop when we did? I had to go back to my room and take myself in hand,” he pouts over your lips.

“Poor, poor lamb,” you tease playfully, your hand lowering instinctively to palm his stirring cock. “I would happily have helped.”

“You were so innocent then; what a change a year makes,” his breath more laboured as your hand drags insistently over his clothing.

“I know you liked me innocent, but I think you like me even more so now,” you contend, your intent unmistakable as you make fast work of the buttons on his trousers.

“You are not wrong…” he breathes as you shove the fabric down his muscular thighs, a searing need to have him inside you right away.

“Fuck me,” you demand crudely, your hand wrapping around his bare cock. “Against this tree, right now, right here.”

He groans, surging into your grip, his hands flexing on your back. You glance at the house around his shoulder, realising you are not remotely concealed from most of the East Wing. If anyone were to drift to their window, they would get an eyeful of your husband’s naked bottom at this very moment.

“I hope no one can see us….”

“Let them watch,” he snarls, tugging off his shirt and removing your hand so he can shuck his trousers, fully naked now.

It’s a sight that always has you flustered, so much lithe musculature, his skin glowing like sculpted marble in the moonlight. But you get little chance to admire or to run your hands along his contours, for he hauls you off your feet into his arms. Your robe and nightgown are pushed high around your hips as he presses you into the tree trunk; the fabric snags the rough bark. 

Then he guides his cock where you want, with no preamble, both groaning as he thrusts into you in one swift, decisive move. 

“Yesssss, that's it…” you hiss, your toes scraping the meat of his calf, your arms banding his neck tightly as he withdraws and then surges back in, your whole body rolling with the sheer force.

It’s only been three months since you had your baby, and he has been so tender with you since you started having sex again mere weeks ago. But tonight, you don’t want gentle; you want raw, rough passion, a reminder of just how much you cannot resist each other.  

‘“Harder husband,” you implore, finger digging into his toned flesh.

And he delivers, setting a fierce rhythm, snapping his hips in a way that ensures neither of you will last long. You moan a litany of encouragement, your eyes drifting to the lake, remembering how thrilling it felt to touch him for the first time. He grabs one of your legs and loops it over his forearm, opening you wide, your thighs burning slightly with the stretch, your mouth slackening as his pelvis glances at your clit.

“Oh yes, right there, do not dare stop,” you moan through gritted teeth, fighting off your thin silk robe.

“So very demanding tonight,” he huffs, bemused, but his pace never wavering as he assists you in tugging your nightgown off, now as naked as him. 

“Make me come,” you order, breathing heavily, bearing down into his upward thrusts, plunging yourself deeper onto his cock, greedily chasing your orgasm.

“Happily…” he retorts with a victorious smile.

But you mewl bereft as, instead of moving faster, he abruptly withdraws from you, leaving you pulsing and wanting. 

With you still in his arms, he takes a few paces and lays you down delicately by the water's edge. The verdant grass cushions your back as he quickly snakes down your torso, landing between your legs. You cant upwards and howl at his sudden acute suction on your throbbing clit. 

This is why you thank your lucky stars every damn day for your husband. You ask him to fuck you, and he changes it into something else, entirely other, taking you beyond. He tilts his head up, bringing your attention back to his handsome face framed by your thighs, his eyes glittering like the lake.

“I want to be out here all night, bringing you pleasure over and over. I don’t care if anyone sees. One of my family, even. I want everyone to know how good we are together. How lucky I am.” He turns and sucks hard on your inner thigh. “So give them a good show, my darling wife, scream for me.”

Your responding groan is loud and appreciative, your hands grabbing his head to direct his questing tongue.

This.

This is the Benedict you can never get enough of. When he’s all riled up, he is a force to behold: filthy poetry dripping from his sinful, talented mouth. Enchanted by his decadent words, your knees fall open wider, pushing yourself into his face.

“Yes, my love,” he encourages silkily as you lightly scratch your fingernails across his scalp; his reply muffled into your folds as he languidly swirls his tongue.

So you do as bidden. Begin to ride his face shamelessly, his nose nudging your clit as he slips lower to swirl his tongue into your pussy, murmuring words into your soaked, quivering flesh.

“Mia bellissima, mia dia…”

All you can do is shudder and hold tight, the ground dewy under your shoulder blades as you writhe upon him, toes curling into the muscle of his back as he feasts upon you, drinking your honeyed nectar. Notching you gently up that invisible ladder towards ecstasy as he returns to your throbbing clit.

“Mon vie, ma femme, tu es mon monde.”

Each word is like a precious jewel he drops onto your pearl, his tongue a glancing tease that has you begging for more. 

“Please husband…” you rasp, licking your lips, that telltale twinge deep in your belly.

His stubbled cheeks rasp your folds as he takes pity and sucks your clit hard between his lips and doesn't let up. Your pussy clenching in pulses, his strong hands grasp your thighs to hold you down as you buck up reflexively, all your muscles tensing as he takes you higher. Your engorged nub in his hot mouth, him driving you towards the edge with each roll of his muscular tongue. When he reaches up a hand to pinch one of your nipples, you are gone. Hurtling into the stars above, calling his name—uncaring if your lusty cries awake anyone sleeping in the house.

He growls encouragements as you begin to break under him, but his hold is still firm, not letting up, elongating your rapture. Making you thrash your head into the mossy verge, your pussy convulsing, leaking onto his chin as he chuckles richly, the echo seeming to travel through your pelvis. Knowing your body so well, he keeps suckling on your sodden flesh, running the edge of his teeth over your nub, holding you right in that state of mindless ecstasy for what feels like forever, a dizzying high that wracks your whole being, buzzing down to your fingertips and toes.

Just as it seems too much, and you want to beg him to stop, he relents, switching to delicate kisses on your inner thighs as you fight for breaths, your entire being tingling. 

“You were right,” you stutter, idly raking your fingers through his thick chestnut hair as you come back down to earth.

“About what?” he queries, resting his chin on your pubic hair.

“W-what you said to me in this very lake,” you sigh, head lolling to the side to observe the moonlit waters. “That I would receive pleasure from you at length.”

He smiles jubilantly and crawls up on all fours, landing a kiss on your lips. The tangy flavour of your release is strong on his face. And yet, even quaking and dazed, you are still greedy for more—for him, for this night not to end.

“I need you inside me again,” you appeal breathily. “In the water. Take me the way you wanted to that night, husband.” 

He looks out to the adjacent lake briefly, then back to you, that devastating lopsided smile claiming his features.

“You are full of wonderful ideas, my love. What a fitting tribute to that night.”

He swoops you into his arms bridal style, athletically springing to his feet and strides decisively into the lake. Your whoop of delight morphs into a shriek as the cold water engulfs your nethers. 

“Colder than I was expecting, too,” he acknowledges perkily but wades on regardless. 

You giggle to distract from the mild shiver at the sudden change in temperature. Impressed that his cock is still rigid at your hip as the ground under his feet falls away rapidly, the water quickly up at your ribs.

His hold changes as you both begin to float in the water, spinning so you are face to face. The juxtaposition of his warm skin and cool water is just as beguiling as it was that night. Your lips find each other in a languid kiss, wrapping your limbs around him as it deepens, that fire stoking within you that he always seems to ignite.

“Roleplay with me,” you beseech impromptu as your lips part. 

“What do you mean, my darling?” He queries, his face the picture of intrigue as his sizable hands slide over your buttocks, grabbing your cheeks.

“Pretend I am the innocent I was that night,” you whisper into his ear, pressing your pebbled nipples into his chest as you lightly bite his earlobe. “But do not be a gentleman this time.”

He groans, fingers kneading your bottom as his cock tip ruts into your belly button, telegraphing how much he loves that idea. You grab one of his hands and guide it between your legs.

“I ache there…. when you kiss me.” 

You employ the exact words you uttered to him one year ago, the moment, indeed the whole night, etched so clearly in your memory.

You watch his face cloud with a beguiling mix of tender nostalgia and pure seductive menace—his cheekbones and jaw in stark relief in the moonlight as his cadence slips lower.

“That is wonderful news, my love. That is how it should be; it means you desire me as much as I desire you.”

Your heart leaps as he recites, verbatim, his reply to you that night. A meaningful beat passes between you, silently conveying the poignancy. 

But then, just as you want, as you need, he flips the script. A sharp tang of desire floods through you as he curls his fingers into your folds.

“And fear not, I shall make that ache go away,” he rumbles. “I will take you right here. Make you mine. Ruin you for every other man. You will not want another for as long as you breathe.”

You pull him in for a kiss, burning from his possessive words, hitching your legs, encircling his waist—a blatant invitation. His other hand slides up your spine, dampening the strands at the nape of your neck, grasping there lightly as he continues in that resonant tone.

“I fear I cannot be gentle, for you have bewitched me.” It sounds like the very best kind of warning, his fingers teasing over your clit.

“I do not wish you to be,” you affirm truthfully, your lips ghosting his as you breathe other's air.

There is a rich groan from him, and his fingers are gone, replaced by the blunt head of his cock demanding entry. You gasp as he slips a fraction inside you, your eyes going wide as if this were unknown, even though all you feel is bliss from that now familiar stretch.

“Relax, my sweet, let me in,” he tutors, stilling, playing the part so perfectly.

As he inches in so slowly, you attempt a noise of astonishment, but it just sounds wanton, the hot steely plunge of his cock such a contrast to the cold water enveloping you. Part of you rues asking him to treat you as the innocent, for the slow pace is almost agnosing, like sandpaper rasping gradually over the needy edges of your desire. It makes you impatient for him to take you roughly, perhaps more than he ever has before, greedy for another spine-tingling orgasm. Even as you enjoy the cling of your pussy to his every contour.

“Well done, my love. You've taken all of me so well,” he praises as he reaches your hilt.

You can't help but peal a laugh; although his swagger is not unfounded, something about the moment feels both humorous and oddly sweet.

He breaks character too, chuckles warmly into your ear: “You are terrible at acting innocent, darling wife.”

“Maybe,” you concede as you swat his shoulder affectionately, clenching your pussy so he moans loudly. “But I am enjoying you corrupting me, you utter rake, so please continue,” you giggle.

There is a twinkle in his eye as he withdraws and then charges back into you, not at all how he treated you on your wedding night. 

“Be gentle; I am so innocent,” you entreat with theatrical irony as your eyes beg for him to be anything but. A ripe, pulpy sensation in your core needs relief.

“I warned you that I cannot…” he volleys back in a low timbre, quirking a brow and deploying that devastating, crooked smile, goosebumps breaking over your arms, and not just from the coolness of the lake.

This playfulness, slipping into and out of roles for each other's amusement, is why you feel so lucky to be married to him, indeed, why you love him so much. The deep, trusting bond you have built together since the last time you were in this very lake. And passion, so much passion. A mutual wish to always be joined as you are now, him buried inside you as you float together. 

“I love you, Benedict,” It falls from your lips unbidden. Honest. Truthful,

“I love you too, y/n.” His response is instant; his mien softens in understanding as if he intuits where your thoughts have slid. 

Profound emotion mutates to tart, metallic want, causing you to undulate upon him. The buoyancy of the water aids your movement, rising, then sinking back onto his cock, staring into his hazy eyes, blown wide by inky pupils. 

“Amore mio,” he murmurs, his gaze never straying from yours. 

Even if you do not understand every word when he speaks in another language, you can feel the meaning emanating from his very soul. 

The water ripples out in concentric waves, distorting the glassy reflection of the moon as you move together with increasing urgency, naked bodies entwined under the surface. He ploughs so deep into you, hitting that spot only he can reach—the one that makes you feel altered, renewed, powerless to do anything but chase that addictive, dizzying high again. Eyes rolling, caged in his arms, you hit a new joined rhythm that feels sublime, stealing kisses between breaths.

You moan his name as he plants his feet firmly on the bottom of the lake to give him more capacity—a dangerous smile as he grasps your bottom vice-like, slamming you onto him, redoubling his efforts. You throw your head back, your hair trailing in the water, moaning to the dark domed sky above, his mouth hot on your throat as you move together with increasing speed, the cool water a balm to your now fevered skin. Spurred on by the illicitly arousing thought that anyone in the house could see you out in the middle of the lake, fucking under the stars.

“Mon amour,” Benedict stutters, his voice tinged with the desperation of nudging ecstasy. 

“So close,” you pant, grabbing his jaw and kissing him deeply, lathing your tongue over his as one of his hands dives between your legs. You cry out into his mouth as he strums roughly against your swollen clit, flinging you towards bliss.

You feel that dam breaking, your whole being wound tight like a spring that abruptly snaps in a kaleidoscopic release. Your pussy clenching around his cock, an imprint you want to carry always. Fireworks behind your eyelids as a thrill races down your spine to all your nerve endings. Your fluttering pulls him over the edge, too, his body spasming then stilling as he releases into you, a bloom you feel inside as his teeth sink into your neck and he emits a wracking groan of sheer relief. 

For a few moments, you hover in the water, him still inside you, catching your breath. Chaste, pecking kisses and little words of reassurance as he slips from your body, both of you belatedly realise just how cold the water is now that your passions have been sated, giggling as you swim back towards the edge. Certainly not as warm as it was during last year’s heatwave.

After he has helped you out of the lake, you return hand-in-hand to your pile of discarded clothes under the trees, jostling into each other for warmth, staving off your shivers in the night air.

“I need you to promise me something…” you murmur, pulling on your nightgown, it turning translucent as it adheres to your damp skin.

“What is that, my darling wife?” he drawls, intrigued, pausing in the haphazard refastening of his trousers.

You wait until his gaze meets yours. “I know it is close to our wedding anniversary, but I need you to bring me here every year, Benedict. On this exact date�� And take me right here, in this very lake…” 

His eyes flash, and he tugs you into his arms. 

“That can certainly be arranged, my love,” his words laden with dusky promise. “This shall forevermore be our notte d’amore.”

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[yesimwriting]

thinking about bestfriend!felix who's known for being touchy within his social circle, so when he holds your hand as you walk around campus and leaves giggly kisses against your cheek, your jaw, your neck after a few drinks, you think nothing of it.

especially because it comes up in conversation from time to time. everyone that hangs out with him regularly enough has at least one story: felix smoothed circles against my back until i fell asleep on the bathroom floor after a party; he's kissed the top of my head twice; i've never seen him end a hug first.

and you've seen things--at parties, while studying, while out with friends in general. so you genuinely have no reason to think there's anything strange or different about the way he treats you, and neither does anyone else.

at first.

one night, when you're still new enough to felix and his world that you feel extremely out of place at a party that he invited you to, he calls you over to where he and his friends are sitting. you walk over to them, greeting everyone politely before moving to take the available space next to felix.

he grabs your wrist before you can actually sit. you're confused, but given little time to react. felix mumbles an absentminded, "c'mere" before pulling you towards his lap. it's a little flustering, but you sit, because that's just how felix is.

okay. normal enough. conversation continues. no one thinks twice about it. farleigh thinks it's a bit of overkill, but just assumes it's a combination of alcohol and maybe an attempt at laying the groundwork to hook up with you a little later in the night.

then, someone asks about potential vacation plans over break and farleigh brings up an inside joke from the last trip he and felix went on. it's casual, but it's clear that felix is supposed to say something.

farleigh looks over in time to see felix holding one of your hands to his lips. alright. still not the most egregious display of platonic affec--felix takes his time pressing kisses to each of your knuckles.

it's not just the gesture. it's the way felix watches your reaction through his lashes and the amount of care in his focus. as if you're the only one in the room. there's a patience there that's practically devoted.

maybe farleigh had it wrong. he thought you were just one of those platonic friends that felix would cart around for a few months before getting bored. maybe it's more romantic, or at the very least sexual.

then felix's eyebrows draw together. "you're cold." you start to say that you're fine, but before you can get the words out, felix is holding both of your hands between his.

in the beat that it takes farleigh to recover from the slightly nauseating display, the rest of the group has gone quiet. they're all watching felix dote on you like you're the reason for the moon hanging in the sky. annabel whispers something about the "unsuspecting".

farleigh eventually tries again, directly stating felix's name. he finally looks up, a little confused, as if coming out of a trance. farleigh repeats his earlier comment, finally getting a reaction from felix. the group recovers because while the moment had been almost uncomfortably intimate for something so casual, this is far from the first time felix has started (casually) seeing an 'outsider'.

some time passes and you finish your first drink. when felix notices, he asks if you want another. you tell him that you don't mind getting your own, but felix is insistent. you stand so that he can get up.

a part of you wishes you could have found an excuse to go with him. the gesture, in theory, is nice, but without felix's protection, being left with his friends feels like he's thrown you to the wolves.

annabel, a little tipsy and now curious asks, "so, how long have you and felix..." she trails off with a knowing look.

you kind of get what she's implying, but it feels like too random and too unfitting of an assumption to be accurate. "oh, we've been friends since around right after syllabus week, felix ask--"

"no," she shakes her head, "i mean--" she tries again, this time asking with precise language.

your face grows a few degrees warmer. "oh." the slight laugh that follows the syllable is too genuine for it to be you playing coy. "no, it's not--we're friends."

friends. you genuinely believe it. annabel fixes you with a tight lipped smile that makes something in your stomach knot.

you decide that her question must have been prompted by you sitting on felix's lap. you've also heard enough stories about them to assume that they have an on again off again, sort of thing, and because you really don't want to make an enemy of her, you try to justify it, "that was just--you've known him way longer, he's just like that."

oh my god. he's fooled you. completely convinced you that that's normal. before annabel can really react, felix comes back. he hands you your drink and kisses your cheek before sitting down next to you. he doesn't ask you to go back to where you were sitting before, but he does keep a hand on your knee.

----

some bestfriend!reader concepts ft oliver

another bestfriend! felix blurb :)

bestfriend! felix and reader basically dating

[yumeka-sxf]

In addition to Yor's epiphany scene, this scene was the other one I was most looking forward to in season 2 - a scene that, in my opinion, is one of the most Twiyor-ish scenes in the series so far 💖

Why is it so significant? Because there was no reason for Twilight to put on any Loid Forger acting in that moment. He wasn't conversing with nor being scrutinized by anyone. So why would he give that soft smile followed by such affectionate, comforting words as "お疲れ様/otsukaresama"? (this can be translated in many ways, but generally it's something you say to thank someone for their hard work).

The answer is because it's something he truly felt...he understood the sacrifice Yor made for Anya's happiness and genuinely appreciated it (if only he knew the sacrifice she made on the larger scale, lol). While he's a bit perturbed at first since some onlookers were snickering at him, it didn't take long for him to soften and then graciously carry his queen and princess the girls back to the ship 😭

But Twilight overall was really soft in this episode and I loved it~ From his blush upon seeing Yor to the several times he gave that same soft smile when talking with/looking at her...I think Anya was right when she called him out on the ship about missing his wife 😅

I liked how the anime conveyed his shock when noticing her bruised face...what must have been his thought at that moment? 👀

The scenes of the family activities translated better in animated form in my opinion. While they were each only a single panel in the manga, they lasted a few seconds each in the anime, plus the addition of the insert song helped the with the comfy, wholesome vibe~ Also the part where Yor inadvertently chucks Anya across the ocean is still hilarious.

Loid's dorky skip at the beginning of the episode translated very well in animated form too 😅

The ending of this chapter in the manga always felt a bit rushed to me...it quickly jumps from the aforementioned scene of them returning to the ship, to suddenly being home, reuniting with Bond and Franky, having a meal together, then Twilight meeting Sylvia, all within a few panels. Even though I wish the anime added more than just some additional scenes of the ship leaving the island, I felt it flowed much better in the anime since, just like the family activities, each scene in the ending lasted a second or two instead of being a single illustration.

But I love how this chapter/episode ends, with Yor, Anya, and Bond napping while Anya draws about her family vacation. This seems to take place the next day or maybe later the same day they got home, so makes sense they'd still be tired from the trip!

By the way, the manga has this additional scene showing that Olka and company are safe. Weird that the anime didn't stick it in at some point.

Also, the anime team didn't have to go so hard with this episode's key visual but they did...and I love it 😍 Might actually be my favorite of the key visuals so far!

I was very happy to see the "surrounded by liars" panel finally animated! This is such a funny scene and a great way to fully wrap up the cruise arc.

I also burst out laughing at Yuri's locker 🤣

Damian is surprisingly laid back in this episode. I think the reason is because Anya's antics aren't directly involving him. He tends to go total tsundere only when she's actually talking to him, lol.

The new scene of Yor getting the keychains for her coworkers was a nice addition! Guess it's canon that Yor and Anya didn't sleep for the entire trip back, lol. Glad they got to spend family time on the ship too! (though I wish we could have seen Yor's reaction waking up in Loid's bottom bunk bed, haha. He must have brought her to his room since he wouldn't know where her room is. Unless she woke up before he even put her in a bed, in which case she would have been super embarrassed knowing he was carrying her around in public 😆)

Looks like next week the anime will be changing the order of things a bit and giving us the Becky home-wrecking and Fiona chapters (the latter of which seems to have some anime original content?) The Becky chapter is one of my favorite stand-alone chapters...I'm already dying of laugher thinking about it 😂