#I imagine the ring being on his left hand on the middle finger in both of his forms because his triangle form only has four fingers

[lunarmothim]

a thing of beauty - kyle garrick x reader

It had always amazed you, how easily you could bring Kyle to his knees, this beautiful man who could've been a model but chose to take down terrorists for a living. A man who killed people at work then came home and looked at you with warm eyes through long, dark lashes you'd always been jealous of like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. He's absolutely breathtaking. Living proof that God has favorites, every inch of him a work of art.

word count: 1.7k tags/warnings: i tried to do some plot what plot? but here we are with some fluffy head instead :D established relationship, oral (m receiving), afab/fem presenting reader (brief mentions of periods)

When you pictured your future as a kid- the kind of life you'd lead, the kind of person you'd marry, grow old with, you never once imagined Kyle.

If anything, Kyle was the antagonist in your otherwise picture-perfect story, the annoying boy next door who ran after you with worms, laughing while you screamed, who shoved handfuls of snow down the back of your coat during snowball fights, who liked to tease you by tugging your hair when he sat behind you in class.

He's just doing it because he likes you, your mum had cooed when you complained to her about him, even well after you'd passed the age where that logic would be something believable. At the time you'd huffed at her in irritation, telling her she didn't know him like you did, that he was mean and would she please just talk to his mum and make him stop?

He did, eventually, when you grew older and chasing you with worms turned into chasing you down the hall, giving you his jacket to tie around your waist when you unexpectedly got your period during history class. When hands shoving snow down your clothes turned into hands awkwardly holding your hips while he kissed you in a closet at Maggie Luwin's fifteenth birthday party, your friends jeering at you through the door until your seven minutes were up. When tugging your hair became pulling your hair, one hand fisted in the strands and the other over your mouth while you both tried not to wake his roommate in a tiny uni dorm room.

No, those were not moments you had ever imagined Kyle being involved in.

And you certainly had never imagined him grinning up at you from one knee in the middle of a Tesco, telling you that you were the only person he could imagine doing something as mundane and domestic as debating over cereal choices with for the rest of his life, so would you please do him the honor of marrying him? No plan, no ring, just that pretty smile of his you'd never thought you'd fall in love with and a promise to do it right, do it better, if you'd only say yes-

Which had brought you here, perched on his lap with the ring he'd picked up on his way home from the airport four months after the proposal on your finger while he presses soft, lazy kisses to your throat, the dinner you'd started for your engagement party forgotten in the slow cooker.

("I'll get you somethin' bigger," he'd promised, down on one knee again with a tired smile.

"Don't you fuckin' dare," you'd replied, dragging him up off the ground to kiss you.)

"So pretty," he sighs against your skin, large palms warm against your back through your shirt. "And all mine. How'd I get so lucky, huh?"

"I'll let you know when I figure it out," you can't help but tease him, soft and breathy, and he chuckles low in his throat, pulling you tighter against him. He's hard beneath you, sliding those warm hands down the velvety fabric of your skirt while his nose nudges gently against your jaw, a silent request to give him better access to your neck. The tilt of your head to the left comes without argument, but with a soft warning. "Kyle, we don't have time for this."

"We can make time," he murmurs, grazing his teeth over your pulse with just enough pressure to make you melt into him, his voice a low rumble against your throat. "They'll understand. Should've celebrated together first, anyway."

"You have the rest of your life to celebrate with me," you try again, but there's no real fight to your words, no move made to stop him from slipping his hands beneath your skirt and up your thighs.

You both know that you'd caved the second he tugged you into his lap.

"Even that's not enough time," he laments, dragging his mouth up in search of yours. You taste the icy edge of a menthol on his breath under the sweet mint gum he'd tried to hide it with, probably bummed from the neighbour despite his promises to quit, but you don't care to chastise him for it right now- not when his fingers, long and impossibly delicate for his line of work, are creeping up your outer thighs to catch on the thin lace of your panties, giving them a playful tug. "C'mon, love, just a little taste."

"'Just a little taste,'" you mock him, retaliating with a nip at his lower lip that has him laughing, tugging the plush flesh between your teeth as you draw back. "Last time you said that you missed drills and John came by for a wellness check."

"Hey now, no need to bring him into this," Kyle responds, tugging at your panties again. "I can be quick-"

"You said that, too. Think we have different definitions of the word, babe."

"Oh yeah? What's yours, then?"

It's the wrong thing to say- or maybe the right thing, if his reaction to the way you shift back along his thighs in response is anything to go by, pupils blowing wide when you drag your nails down the hard planes of his abdomen to the edge of his belt. He inhales, slow and controlled, when you tug his blue button up out of its neat tuck, but his exhale when you trace the shape of his belt buckle with one knuckle is shaky. A shudder melts down his spine, the sweet dark honey of his eyes following every steady movement of your hand.

It had always amazed you, how easily you could bring Kyle to his knees, this beautiful man who could've been a model but chose to take down terrorists for a living. A man who killed people at work then came home and looked at you with warm eyes through long, dark lashes you'd always been jealous of like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. He's absolutely breathtaking. Living proof that God has favorites, every inch of him a work of art.

You look at him sometimes and can't understand how someone like him could want someone like you. But he does, and it leaves you breathless.

The button of his jeans slips out with ease, followed by the rasp of his zipper. He lifts his hips to help you work the dark denim down his thighs until you can pull his cock free, trailing your fingers up the length of him. He moans soft and low at the touch, the whisper of your thumb grazing over the head.

Dark eyes, wide black circles ringed with honey, find yours when you slowly raise your thumb to press it into your mouth, the tip salty with his precum.

"Christ, love," Kyle groans, sucking in a harsh breath when you slide down out of his lap, settling on the floor between his knees. "Thought you said we didn't have time?"

"Oh, now you care?" you tease him, looking up at him through your lashes. His hips jerk when your hand circle the base of him, those pretty eyes half-lidded and hazy, the column of his throat stretching taut when his head tips against the back of the couch. Beautiful. You tell him as much, murmuring it against his knee and feeling him pulse beneath your hand.

You whisper it again if only to hear the soft noise he makes in response, something like a purr rumbling in his chest. His fingertips brush over your cheeks, gently caress your jaw, catch under the edge of the bone and press in to guide you forward.

"Fuck," he sighs, hands sliding back to gather your hair at the nape of your neck, out of your face, when you take him into your mouth, salt-slick and heavy against your tongue. His thumbs sweep over your hollowed out cheeks, groaning again when you hum softly in thanks. He already sounds utterly wrecked, raw and undone and you haven't even done anything yet. "Fuck, love. Look so pretty with your mouth on my cock."

God, he even sounds pretty, letting out the most delicious little whimper when you reward his praise by throating him to the base.

The tick of his watch by your ear reminds you of your purpose here, your demonstration of the word quick. Five minutes from start to finish is your record, a skill he'd learned you had in a cramped supply closet on base one day when you'd brought him lunch, your mouth wrapped around him damn near dropping him to the floor.

Bracing one hand against his thigh, you reach up with the other until you feel the stretch of his throat beneath your palm. The tip of his tongue swipes over the pad of your finger when you hook it into his mouth, using the leverage to pull his head down until he meets your eyes.

He's gone, mouth falling open in a deep moan that has you squeezing your thighs together, the anchor of his hand against the back of your head becoming a steady hold as he bucks up into your mouth. Neatly trimmed, wiry curls scratch at your nose as he spills hot and thick down your throat, fingers flexing against your skull in a stuttered clench-and-release until he goes still, breathing hard.

You draw away slowly, hollowing your cheeks as you drag back up his length. You think he might shove you right back down when you swirl your tongue around the head, lapping up every last drop of his release, but his hand falls slack to his side instead, squeezing against the couch cushion.

"That wasn't fair," he wheezes around your finger still in his mouth, biting down gently just above the metal of your ring. "Gonna be the death of me."

"Not yet," you tease, squeezing his thigh and using it to push up to your feet, withdrawing your finger as you lean in to kiss him. You can almost feel his smile when you drag your lips up to his ear, nipping at the lobe. "But maybe when our guests leave."

mdni banner by @/cafekitsune line divider by @/gildui

please like/reblog if you enjoyed! :)

[flowerburiedinrubble]

Expanded "Good Bill" BillFord AU

Has anyone expanded on the BillFord Good Bill Cipher AU?

What I mean by this is the idea that Bill Cipher began to backtrack on his original plan because he was "becoming more human," I don't mean physically as much as I mean getting emotionally attached to Ford and recognizing that Ford would hate the idea of being responsible for destroying his universe even if Bill sees it more as conquering. Yes, yes, super OOC, but that's the point of AUs.

So Bill backtracks and has to get Ford to stop working on something that can destroy the world Ford is fascinated by. And because Bill and Bill's friends basically live in different time realities, it's not like anyone would notice Bill missing for a human's lifespan so Bill wants to stay with Ford. Problem? Bill is still not in the physical world and laments this all while Ford is still on the idea of opening the portal to multidimensions and to Bill, of course. So Bill is trying to slow the project suddenly in Ford's perspective and taking it as a sign that Bill is losing confidence in him when it's Bill wanting to spend time with his weirdo in ways that wouldn't push Ford away. At this point, they're involved in whatever capacity.

Debating whether or not the idea that Ford does succeed in opening the portal but only for Bill per Bill's instructions because of vague "safety" issues that he doesn't explain to Ford. Bill exists now in Gravity Falls but only in Gravity Falls. He has a physical form but is limited to Gravity Falls.

(also debating whether Bill gets Ford to make him restrictions as a means to avoid a Weirdmageddon. Was picturing this in the form of a ring (haha married) so that Bill limits his own abilities because he knows himself and is too attached to Ford in the moment and wants to commit to this idea(thus a ring since it is a promise)).

Of course, Ford discovers Bill's original plan and that doesn't go over well. Bill tries to explain himself but it's hard to do that when he really was lying/manipulating Ford initially. Doesn't help that Bill isn't human and there's a disconnect for how he can explain in a rational way that doesn't make him sound crazy and obsessed with Ford and controlling Ford. Ford gets paranoid, canon events taking place while Bill is trying to get close to Ford, getting into his dreams, leaving notes, looking crazy to Ford and making Ford crazy in turn. Ford hides his journals so Bill doesn't know where Journals 2 or 3 are.

Enter Stanley and canon events except Bill tries to get to portal before losing Ford but fails and is limited in his abilities and access to other dimensions seeing as he now is more cemented in Earth's dimension ever since going through the portal.

Now it is up to Bill and Stanley to get the portal working again without Ford. It should be easier with two but both blame each other for Ford's state and absence. Ford wouldn't have fallen into the portal if it weren't for Stan! Well, Ford wouldn't have been driven to madness if it weren't for Bill!

Angry, limited, wary of the other- they work together. Stan builds a life in Gravity Falls like in canon- at this point, either Bill is always hidden in the Mystery Shack or he has got to get some sort of human form because he's a floating triangle and Stan is confused on many levels about his brother's relationship with this being but that's the least of his concerns.

Now to the canon events of the show. The twins arrive and they meet their Grunkle Stan, his employees Wendy and Soos and a strange friend/employee/family(?) Bill. He's still learning how to act human and Mabel enjoys him because he says and does weird things. Dipper finds him curious because no real answers are given to who this Bill guy is since he's kind of an employee of Stan's but he's closer and isn't typically working unless to mess with tourists. Mabel likes his "magic tricks" and Dipper is always trying to figure out how Bill did those "tricks." Bill is either missing or in the Mystery Shack. (not like he has another home, he's mainly working on the portal since he doesn't sleep). So he's strangely sometimes with them for dinners or random family times though mainly missing in action. (yes I like the idea of Bill wearing one of Ford's coats whether in his triangle or person form and he likely has gotten questioned on it by Mabel just like the mysterious ring he never (can't) take off))

I imagine it doesn't go over well when Dipper and Mabel are questioning if Grunkle Stan is even their Grunkle and that Bill doesn't even exist on any real record- or maybe finding out he isn't human. Though I imagine when Grunkle Stan defends them against Zombies that Bill would be there using his magic to defend the Pines as well and that conversation of "Kid, I've always known- We've always known" happens though isn't expanded on to further say that Bill literally is an anomaly in Gravity Falls- a dream demon.

Plenty to get deeper into and to add onto if anyone wants to play with this idea and delve into more specifics

[lolapiastri]

hands | l. norris

warnings: the smuttiest, horniest smut ever bc i'm feeling some type of way, it's complete filth

author's note: absolutely no excuse for this, i will take myself down the stairs to hell

"fuck," he muttered under his breath, eyes widening as he watched his hands wrap around your throat.

your breathing sped up as your airway was slowly cut off, the cold silver of lando's rings pressing against your throat sending shockwaves straight to your core. your pupils were so large they were almost your whole iris, fixed on your boyfriend's hand through batting eyelashes. you were sat on his lap, thighs either side of his hips, pressed against him as his other hand pushed an escaped strand of hair back behind your ear.

he squeezed harder, causing your breath to hitch as you grinded against lando's crotch involuntarily, causing an attempt at a moan to leave your mouth. desperation and lust were the only things on your mind right now, added to as lando's spare hand cupped your jaw.

his index finger traced over your features, sliding over your cheek before swiping on your lips. you let him do whatever he wanted, pulling on your bottom lip until he could see your teeth. he let out a shallow scoff at how willing you were to please, how you were just taking all this. your hips couldn't stop their sporadic movements, moving in tandem with lando's squeezes against your neck.

"you like being choked, huh?" his tone was degrading, with a half laugh behind it.

he took his index finger and pushed past your lips, pressing down on your tongue as he entered your mouth. tongue wrapping around it without thinking, you began to suck, imagining it was his cock instead.

all lando could do was stare. "acting like a slut, aren't you?"

you whined in response as lando added his middle finger, pushing them right to the back of your throat as you choked around them. that wasn't good enough for lando though, as he tutted at your actions.

"i asked you a question, and i expect you to answer," he stated, giving your neck another tight squeeze. "you're a slut, aren't you?"

you attempted to respond to his question, but your answer was incoherent through lando's fingers, instead just a muffle of sounds.

"what was that?" he asked, teasing tone that caused you to almost cry with frustration, trying to answer him again to no avail. "god, not only are you a slut, you're fucking braindead. a braindead cockslut, only good for sucking dick and nothing else, huh?"

you shook your head frantically, but of course, frantic head shakes and whines were not good enough for your boyfriend.

"quiet down, now," he grunted, and you obeyed, staying silent as he removed his fingers from your mouth and dragged them down your face, holding your mouth opening before leaning over you, and spitting in your mouth.

the act was so dirty, so filthy, yet so indescribably attractive and you swallowed immeadiately, earning a slight smile from your boyfriend before both hands removed themselves from your body. you took deep breaths into your lungs, recovering from the restricted airflow you had been receiving, with your eyes never leaving lando's hands.

you grabbed them with your own, and started placing open mouthed kisses down his fingers, wet and sloppy as your mouthed at his skin. his eyes never left you, and blood shot straight to his core, his length growing underneath you.

"god, you love my hands," it was a statement, really, to himself, but you couldn't help but hum against his skin in agreement. "are you a slut for my hands?"

"yes," you mumbled against his skin, finally following his wishes for the first time that night. "want them inside me, please."

and who would he be to deny you such pleasure.

[mymindisneverhere]

late night writes… short & sweet

18+ SMUT

Imagine… Terry makes you say your affirmations after hearing you speak negatively about yourself.

“look in the mirror while i play with that pussy”

he instructed, using his free hand to bring your head forward until you locked eyes with your reflection. you sat in between his legs on the plush rug that covered the floor. legs wide open, kitty on full display dripping into the crack of your ass and onto your brand new rug. your knees were bent and rested against his as he stroked your cunt with his thick fingers, leaving a glossy coating on his knuckles that ran down his fingers. his middle and ring finger working you over as the seconds went by…

“tell daddy you’re pretty baby”

“i’m pretty” you cried out both from the insane amount of pleasure and the fact that just a few hours prior you were announcing the total opposite. with you working long hours and being a full time student, it was hard to find the time to get dolled up. solely focusing on not missing work or assignments, you made no time for yourself and as the days went by your confidence started to fade. so when he asked you to get dressed because he wanted to take you out to dinner, a celebration of finishing yet another semester, you expressed to him that you weren’t feeling the prettiest and that you weren’t up for a late night date… why did you do that?

“tell me how pretty you look while I’m playing in that pretty pussy.”

“I look so pretty daddy” a combination of a whine and a moan leaving your lips as you struggled to push out those words. he didn’t like when you spoke down on yourself. usually a simple conversation would take place and then you two would continue on with the day but the negative self talk was happening way too often for his liking. although he never missed a moment of praising you not only for your gorgeous looks as well as your intellect, your personality, and just simply being you, it wasn’t enough if you didn’t believe it yourself… so he had his way of making you believe it.

“daddy’s baby look beautiful all the time don’t she?”

“yessssssss.”

his deep voice praising and encouraging you while his strong arm flexed with each pump of his fingers, sending you into another dimension. you tried your hardest to recite your affirmations for him for a second time but he wasn’t making it an easy task. his fingers left your opening for a second and made way to your swollen clit, spreading your juices all over your sex.

“daddy don’t like when you say mean things about yourself and you know that.”

“i’m sorry daddy.” your face swirled with ecstasy and sorrow as he toyed your clit in circles with his fingers. your hole pulsating from the absence of his fingers, longing to be filled again. he continued his circles, making you watch his every move. the two of you sat, cheek to cheek, ear to ear, watching your own private show.

“look at my pretty girl” he smiled, noticing your confidence grow by the second as you stared at your own reflection. taking in every part of your body coupled with the vulnerability he was forcing you to bring to the forefront. you were never ugly, your body was never the problem, you just needed a little boost that’s all. “you fucking up your rug princess.”

“i don’t care daddy, i wanna cum! please!” you were on the brink and he was slowing down, why would he slow down?

“all fours, put that ass in the air!” he said, releasing you from his grasp and watching as you assumed the position. chest pressed against the floor, back arched, both hands on your ass, spreading yourself open so he could get a view of everything, exactly how he liked it. standing up on his knees, he pulled the waist band of his sweats down, letting his dick hang free. dragging his thickness down the slick of your lips, he grabbed onto your hips with one hand and slid into you until his balls were pressed firmly against your clit. you felt every. single. inch.

“uh un look at yourself and start over.” he grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled back until you were staring directly into the mirror again. using his other hand to grip your throat, he demanded that you repeat your affirmations once again while he dug into you mercilessly.

‘i am beautiful’

‘i love my body.’

‘i love myself for who i am’

the list went on and on until he was pleased with you.

the more you spoke, the greater your desire to release was building. the sweet gushy sounds he was pulling from you was music to his ears. the feeling of his dick hitting your spot repeatedly along with his heavy sack slapping against your clit, you couldn’t hold it any longer.

“i love everything about myself” you cried out, finishing the last of your affirmations. “can i cum daddy? please, can i cum?” face twisted as you tried to wait for his permission, preparing yourself for the amazing feeling that was about to take you over.

“you can cum pretty girl”

“ahhhh, yes yes yes!” you yelled out in rhythm with his strokes. “don’t stop daddy, please don’t stop.”

“i won’t baby, get all that shit. you deserve it.” your eyes began to cross as you felt the flow running down your pussy, dripping onto the rug. you wanted so badly to collapse but the grip he had on your head kept you in place. your arms had given out a while ago. he kept going, ignoring the fact that you were already cumming profusely. “i don’t wanna hear that shit come out your mouth again.”

“it won’t daddy, i promise.” you cried out, practically pleading with him. you were overstimulated and damn near worn out, you didn’t think you could handle another one so soon. but he wasn’t slowing down, increasing his intensity with every thrust.

“you promise what?”

“i won’t be m-mean to myself a-again.” your breathing staggered as you tried your best to respond to him. you gasped from the feeling that was returning once again, the strong urge was coming so fast. you didn’t have time to brace yourself. you could hear yourself cumming all over him, making a total mess on his pants and the floor.

“oh my godddddd.” he continued pressing into you while at the same time soothing you, caressing your cheek with his thumb. he slowed his movements, finally coming to a stop as he watched your body shake under his grasp. carefully resting your head onto the floor, his hand slid down the length of your back, caressing your hips while you struggled to catch your breath.

“you alright pretty girl?”

“yes daddy.”

[love-fictional-ppl]

First Blowjob

Summary: short headcanons on virgin!Bakugou getting his first blowjob!

Pairings: virgin!Katsuki Bakugou x gn!reader

Warnings: NSFW under the cut.

A/N: both reader and Bakugou are aged up.

I just know part of the reason he was such a dick in U.A. was due to his lack of action. And I don’t mean fighting villains.

I imagine Bakugou fresh out of U.A. who wants to experiment but has no clue where to start, his friends have all given him advice but none of it worked for him.

By chance you and Bakugou met at some bar that he and his friends hangout at, the two of you swapped numbers that night and started hanging out almost every week.

Of course Bakugou thought you were hot, he would be stupid not to think so. He just had not clue if you felt the same sort of attraction towards him.

Lucky for the blonde bastard, you confirmed it for him.

The two of you were having one of your normal hangouts, at your apartment, watching some cheesy “horror” movies you didn’t know the name of.

No doubt you had been wanting to hook up with Bakugou, only thing stopping you being a fear or rejection, till tonight.

When you looked over at the male on the other side of your couch, you caught him on his phone. You took that as a sign that he was as disinterested in the movie as you were.

“You wanna do something else?” You broke the silence making Bakugou look over at you.

“Sure,” he responded, putting his phone down.

“You want me to suck your dick?”

And just like that you were sucking one of your newfound best friend’s dick.

Bakugou threw his head back trying to contain all noise and hoping he didn’t blow his load too quick.

Make him suck on your fingers, he loves it. And it’s such a hot scene.

Poor baby likely won’t last long with the way you’re sucking out his soul, and with him sucking on the ring and middle finger of your right hand while your left hand fondles his balls

Him cumming is such a reward, he loses his composure for just that minute and it’s so rewarding to watch. When Katsuki cums he releases all the noises he tried so hard to keep in and his legs spasm ever so slightly.

Keep sucking even while he’s cumming, he looks adorable when he’s overstimulated.

Once you pull away from Bakugou, you get up to go grab a cloth and water bottle for him. When you return you simply hand it to him.

Katsuki looks over at you with his go-to smirk, “So, can we do this again?”

[kismetlotts]

Hi lottie! May I request some hesitant/reluctant Simon whose fingers are twitching to touch you? Maybe brother’s or dad’s best friend or some other “we shouldn’t do this” trope. Your writing is lovely. Thank you 💕

Oh of course!

cw: dads bsf trope, slight implication of an age gap, fingering, mentions of fingering, breast play etc kissing, mark leaving, mentions of male masturbation, Simon being very conflicted, mentions of female masturbation, mentions of oral sex both female and male,

Dad’s best friend Simon who can’t help but steal glances at you when he comes over every now and then. Such a peaceful house guest, a gentleman who rambles along with whatever is being said not much care to get involved in conversation. The man who nods and thanks your dad when he passes him a coffee, just a typically decent guy to be around until you sway in.

A body so perfect and smooth, the dim light of your living room complimenting you and making you more even more desirable. A pair of pyjama shorts fitting you slightly tighter than they should, revealing the fine curve of your ass and exposing your thighs shamelessly.

You’d always felt a little off when Simon came over, always caught him staring a little longer than your dad’s other friends did. I mean, you were quite sexy, you’d had the odd share of them check you out every now and again. Never missing the small exhale a few of them let out before looking away because you didn’t despise the attention on you- it made you feel rather confident despite the fact you’d rather die than let any of them touch you.

Maybe that was another area where Simon differed to the rest of them.

He was different; he felt different-way more perverted but you really really liked it. His eyes didn’t flicker away like the rest, didn’t leave your body quickly almost ashamed or disgusted in themselves, paranoid to get caught thirsting over someone way off limits. His eyes were dragged away, forcefully, as if any longer and something in him would snap- something primal and horny.

He didn’t want to stuff his cock in you; not just that anyway. He needed to toy with you, feel the body of his best friend’s daughter in his hands because for something so wrong it felt so fucking right. He couldn’t do that, he shouldn’t do that- it was morally fucking wrong and it made him a freak but he couldn’t hold himself back. There was just something about you that made him want to caress you, finger you. Middle and ring fingers diving into the hole of his mug handle- wishing they were diving into your hole instead.

He wanted to watch your eyes roll shut with pleasure and agony; drive you mad at the feel of his fat fingers stretching and penetrating your pussy. He wants to watch as drool glides down your chin from your open mouth, cheeks hot with embarrassment but too lost in the feeling to give a shit. He’d pay money, he’d do anything, he imagines you every time he tugs on his chubby little dick- it was kind of pathetic how much he wanted you.

“Am I right? Yeah? Simon?” Your dad would speak, a fast inhale and a clear of the throat erupting from Simon as his eyes left your figure and back to your dad’s face. He hadn’t heard a word of what was said, hadn’t paid attention to anything but the way your nipples poked through your thin tank top.

Mind full of wonders like if you’d still be able to feel his tongue and heat through the fabric. Your dad was clueless-bless him, just assuming he’d zoned out for a moment because why would his best friend think of his daughter like that?

After a few minutes of talking, his mind still raw and fresh with thoughts of you, he excused himself- nipping upstairs and to the toilet to splash some water on his face. He’d take one look in the mirror at himself before his hands would grip the edge of the bathroom sink. Fuck he was desperate for you. His cock was growing harder by the minute and his hand slid to his jeans, palming himself through the rough fabric and looking up at the ceiling.

Imagining your innocent hand there instead, had you ever touched dick before? Tasted it? Would you like the taste of his cock on your pretty pink tongue- would he even care if you didn’t? Using your mouth as a good little tool to make himself cum. Your adorable teared up eyes looking into his so obediently, challengingly trying to swallow as much dick as you can. He was drunk; drunk and so wasted on the alcohol you poured into his veins but he had to sober up fast.

Pulling his hand away, washing it with cold water before wiping it over his face to cool down. It was wrong, wasn’t it? Cold water hopefully drowning out his hot thoughts as he reached for the door and left the room. Shutting it behind him carefully before turning around to find you exiting your room.

You, who he’d been fantasising about. You, who’d given him the boner in his jeans right now and you who was now all alone upstairs. No daddy there to protect him from his actions, no restraints present and fingers twitching with the need to touch you.

You took a step back, legs going weak at the hard eye contact. The throb in your cunt evident at the sight of him- face glimmering in the light and hair damp with either water or sweat. You wished it was sweat; the idea of him being sweaty colliding with the strong gaze between you made the atmosphere much more erotic.

By the time your foot hit the material of your bedroom floor, it was already too late; his body charging over to you, grabbing you close and lips smacking yours in a hot wet kiss. The heat from his tongue melting you internally and you sunk in deep, it was bad but if you got caught you could just blame it on Simon- he was the one to initiate it after all.

His body relaxed after he realised you weren’t pushing him away. You weren’t hitting or fighting him to get off, you were letting him touch you, letting him kiss you, were you inviting him to fuck you as well? His grip left your sides and circled to your behind, squeezing your skin going lower and lower before hitting the softness of your thighs. So warm, so biteable for a man like him. A starving animal like him.

He wanted to eat you out so badly, strip your little body and force your legs open just to taste your sweetness. To feel you pulse and leak against his tongue. His body locked you in, guiding you to your bed as you laid back allowing him to climb on top of you.

The same duvet and cramped tiny bed that you had as a kid, the same bedding your dad used to tuck you into every night- reading you stories about princes and princesses, kings and queens but now you were whimpering in it. Whimpering against the lips of his best friend. His hand slowly tracing up your thigh and tugging down your shorts, revealing your cotton panties with a big wet patch on them- fuck.

Accidentally stroking your clothed clit as he brought his fingers to the rim of your underwear: earning himself a twitch and a moan from how sensitive you were. He slipped two fingers beneath the fabric, looking down at the reality. He was one tug away from seeing your bare pussy, the bare pussy he’d dreamt about. All it took was for him to yank down your panties and, for what felt like an eternity of waiting, it would be over: and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted.

“I.. I don’t know, love.” Was all he could mumble out. Breath hot and desperate on your face and you had to refrain from groaning and pulling them down for him. His face was present with confliction and all you could do was lay there and wait for a moment. He swallowed, face slipping to your neck as he kissed the delicate skin there.

“If your dad found out- If you told him- If for any reason this gets out to him i’m so fucked. I wanna touch you so badly- I do, baby. But we can’t let him know.” His voice so shaky and breathy, the room so hot and his body so hot hovering over you and for fuck sake- could he not just get it over with?

Could he not just use you like the girl he’s been itching to play with? Like the good dirty little daughter of his best friend? All the prancing around him, teasing him by crouching down and reaching for something you didn’t really need. He shouldn’t be looking exactly but you could have prevented him from staring if you really wanted him to.

His eyes on you turned you on and you’d be damned to let this situation go so easily, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him in for another kiss, feeling his fingers glide into your panties further just from the kiss. It didn’t take much to pursued him, or much to make him forget about the thoughts that made him so hesitant; easy to distract him because he was hooked on you.

It was almost like he was asking permission- not to you exactly but just in the open. Asking and begging for permission, some sort of confirmation that it’s okay for him to indulge in this wicked fantasy of his. That it’s a normal sexual desire and that it isn’t a sin or wrong to act upon it. That he isn’t breaking your dad’s trust, but just giving into his sexual needs. Your lips left his and you shut your eyes slowly, feeling his fingers desperately edge closer to your clit.

“Please.” Was all it took and your panties practically ripped with how fast he pulled them down. Fingers finding their way to your wet hole before sliding them inside with no time to waste. Feeling as you clenched around them and sucked them inside deeper.

You weren’t as tight as he’d expected but that fuelled his desire more, since you were tight enough to not know dick which left only one thing. You fingered yourself. You’d lie here, in the same position as you were now, all alone as you thrusted in and out. Finding the perfect pace that made you moan and touch yourself faster and deeper to orgasm.

Simons cock was leaking in his underwear at the thought of it, an adorable and sexy image displayed in his mind. His fingers opened you up faster and faster, watching as your face softened and adjusted to his size.

He wondered if you ever thought of him while you did it. He wondered if each time you caught him staring you had thoughts of you own, thoughts of him following you into the kitchen and eating you out as your body sprawled over the countertop. Slurping and swallowing your juices as your dad sits patiently in the other room. Greedily stuffing in as many fingers as you could take, looking up as you bite down on a tea towel, attempting to stifle the noise of your whines.

Or maybe your thoughts got you so wet and that soaked, you’d escape upstairs to play with yourself. Body shaking and groaning into your pillow while Simon sat downstairs, dick hard but trying to shake his thoughts away. Imagining his fingers inside you while your own actually are, buried in deep and moving fast, one room above him.

Your back arched below him and he kissed your neck again, tongue gliding down your skin and to the tank top covering your breasts. He’d use the free hand he had to yank the fabric up before attacking your tits and body with bites and kisses, some still visible with your top back on.

Each and every small bite calming you as his and claiming you as taken, smirking to himself as he thought, ‘Shit, you better cover them up for daddy.’ You began to get closer and closer, moans echoing around the room slowly getting louder and louder and his stomach ached with worry and lust. He shouldn’t be doing this- what the fuck has he gotten himself into? But he kept going, determined to make you finish on his fingers.

“Oh, yes, oh yes- what a good girl. Yes, cum for me- go on, love- I know you’ve got it in you. Let yourself go, go on, oh- oh- ….there we go.” As your eyes fell back in your head, pussy squelching and cumming all over his fingers as your body fell limp on your bed, so tired and worn out from how good he’d made you feel.

His voice so gruff and nasty in your ear, it fuelled you body enough to make you finish. Breath panting heavy in his ear as he pulled out of you, taking his fingers and sucking them clean like the perv he is- mouth salivating and tastebuds tingling in delight. You tastes better than he could’ve imagined.

He climbed off of the small cramped bed only now just realised the shit he’d gotten himself into. The innocents and prettiness of your room now filled with the aroma of sex and sweat. Walking out of the room, no goodbye, no nothing because he needs to get away from you now and clear his fucking head. Shutting your door and walking back to your dad with a spiralling head.

What would your dad even say to him if he found out? What is Simon going to say to him now, knowing he’d just been fingers deep inside his beloved daughter? Would he be able to look him in the eye? What if he heard every moan and whimper you’d let out? What if he could smell your perfume- your scent on him? Is he a bad person for letting that whole situation happen?

But most of all, the only question he actually had a solid answer to- the only one question that didn’t require an excuse or an explanation.

Did he regret it? No. Not a fucking bit.

[starkeyisthelastname]

Rafe roughly fingering virgin!reader 😊

(I see this as Rafe season 3 episode 7 at the party. So imagine you were Sofia in that moment 💦)

He would invite you over to a party at Tannyhill now that he ran the house. You’d be shy as you walked through the crowd of unfamiliar people until you saw him talking to a shorter man with the same buzzcut. You didn’t want to interrupt the conversation, getting ready to turn away when you heard his voice call you.

“Hey. You made it.” His voice soft as he got up from where he was sitting. You noticed the smirk on his friend’s face, making you blush at the sudden attention you were getting. Especially since you were only in a small bikini, the thin coverup not doing much to hide anything.

He towered over you in height as he stepped closer. His cologne making you weak in the knees as he wrapped his arm around your lower back. He took his Ray-Bans off with his free hand, those stunning ocean eyes now staring down at you. “You want something to drink?” He asked, his manners and hospitality being a plus.

The music bumped throughout the mansion as Rafe held your hand, leading you to the kitchen. You were new to the Outer Banks, not knowing how popular the last name Cameron really was. Everyone there greeted him as if he was royalty, making you feel special that you could be wrapped on his arm.

“Only very important people are aloud up here.” Rafe told you as he led you through the upstairs balcony away from everyone else. The way he said that made your heart race, the heat going straight to your virgin core.

Your tongues lazily moved together as you both sat against the couch, his hands traveling further down to your aching sex. You weren’t sure if it was the poorly mixed drink or he really just had this much of an effect on you, but you found yourself shyly spreading your legs. The dark chuckle against your lips as he pulled back made you let out a kitten like whimper.

“You want me to play with your pussy, pretty girl?” His voice about the sexiest thing you ever heard.

You found yourself nodding, finding it hard to form the words to tell him that you were still a virgin. It wasn’t exactly something you blurted out on the regular. You just really hoped it wouldn’t turn Rafe away, he definitely knew what he was doing. “I- I’ve never been touched down there before.” You whispered softly.

His hand stopped for a moment, an amused laugh coming out as he smirked against your cheek. “Shit…” His voice drawing out into a low groan. His hand pulled your bikini bottoms to the side roughly, holding the material back as he smacked your cunt hard. You let out a squeak, not expecting that same hand to shove two fingers down your throat without warning. Gagging at the intrusion, his left arm pulled you onto his lap.

“Get those fingers wet, slut.” Rafe’s low tone in your ear.

You whimpered around them, sucking them into your mouth like your life depended on it. You wanted to be such a good girl for him, doing quite literally anything as long as he was the one it could be with. His fingers abruptly pulled out, shoving themselves into your virgin hole. You let out a gasp, your toes curling at the roughness.

“Rafe- too much.” You squeal out, his digits thick as he thrusted them in.

His ring and middle finger pushed through your tight hole, his knuckle hitting your cunt at a brutal pace when he slid them back in. “Hey, you wanna know something? My dick is huge.” He said, his left hand now coming up to grip your throat. “This is nothing compared what I’m about to do to this virgin cunt.” He spat, the gentleman now gone.

You cried out, pussy clenching around his fingers as he fucked them into you at a brutal pace. His hand was pressing against your throat, your brain fuzzy as the oxygen was being taken from you. Your poor body was betraying you, squeezing his digits as your pathetic pussy began to squirt everywhere.

“There she is. Make that pretty pussy cry for me.” He groaned into your ear, fingers slapping your sopping hole to make more gush out.

[punkshort]

to have and to hold

A The Way We Were/Look What We've Become one-shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (established relationship)

Summary: You and Joel enjoy a quiet morning together the day after your wedding.

Warnings: language, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, brief mention of oral (m!receiving), an absurd amount of happiness and love.

WC: 2.2K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Was it what you always envisioned for your wedding day?

Certainly not.

No, you definitely didn't imagine finding the love of your life, who also happened to be your extremely intimidating boss, right before the apocalypse. You didn't think you would spend a year traveling across the country together, fighting for your lives and keeping one another safe while doing your best to deny your feelings for him, and he for you.

Yet somehow, it all worked out. After enduring unspeakable things in that year, you found sanctuary in Jackson, Wyoming, with Joel's brother. Tommy had a very different experience in that first year. He managed to find Maria, his wife, and create a beautiful community. The walls around the town were still being constructed when they found you both on the side of the road, on your way to Yellowstone to settle down together someplace safe. They took you in and you acclimated nicely, although it took a long time for you both to feel safe, to let go of that nagging feeling in the back of your head that said stay alert, keep one eye open, stay awake. But you did, and you each finally found peace.

Sure, it wasn't all easy. Old fears cropped back up when Joel mentioned starting a family and getting married. You said all the wrong things, anxiety driving you instead of your heart and it nearly destroyed you both. But with time, you managed to work through your fears and you came out on the other end stronger than ever.

And now you were married. Devoted to one another forever, said the words with tears in your eyes and smiles on your faces in front of your friends and family. Ellie never called you mom and dad, but you took on the roles for her, anyway. You fed her, taught her, kept her safe, kept her secret. She was just as much family as Tommy and Maria, who also stood by your sides as you exchanged vows.

As silly as it was, Joel still insisted on keeping the hair tie you had given him that night wrapped tightly around his wrist. It was a makeshift ring, a symbol more than anything of your love and devotion to him, and even though you had since found a thin gold band for him to wear one day not too far outside the walls under Tommy's guard, Joel still never took off that hair tie.

It was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes the day after your wedding. Your cheek was pressed against his bare chest, his right arm wrapped possessively around your middle and his left hand resting on his stomach. The way the sun beamed in through your bedroom curtains made the gold band around his finger practically sparkle, or maybe you were just imagining it. Either way, it made you smile and nuzzle into his warmth even more, inhaling his natural, comforting scent.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising underneath your cheek, then you heard him grunt softly before his fingers twitched then left his stomach in favor of scratching his beard.

"'S'late," he yawned, voice thick and gravelly. The way it sent a wave of arousal through you, you would have thought he said the most filthy, depraved thing known to man.

"We were up late," you reminded him, biting your lip when you saw the slow smile spread across his face.

"Oh, I remember," he teased before his hands found your hips and shifted you so you were lying on top of him. You pressed a slow, lazy kiss against the center of his chest and you could feel his heart fluttering under your lips.

"What do you want to do today?" you asked him sleepily.

He hummed and you got your answer before he even had a chance to respond when you felt a familiar twitch against your leg.

"I planned on stayin' in bed with my wife all damn day," he said, making you giggle.

"I like the sound of that."

With Ellie at a sleepover, which was at her own insistence to give you some space on your wedding night, a gesture both thoughtful and embarrassing in nature, you knew you had at least a few more hours to yourselves.

"C'mere," he murmured, his chest rumbling underneath you. With a grin, you propped yourself on your elbows so you could reach his mouth. Pressing your lips together gently, you each sighed, feeling yourself relax even more in his arms.

His tongue swiped along your bottom lip and you dropped your jaw, allowing your tongues to lazily reunite. One of his hands delicately traced your spine while the other cupped your cheek, cradling it like you were made of glass. You leaned your face into the palm of his hand, letting him hold you close. It felt like he had you completely surrounded, like your body was just melting right into his, and you couldn't be any happier.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Turned out, you could be a little happier. That became rather clear when your kisses grew heated, your hands began to roam and your hips started to shift. You didn't even bother to ask, you just pushed yourself up so your legs were straddling him on either side and reached between both your bodies, angling his cock so it lined up with your opening and slowly, oh so slowly, you sunk down. You watched through heavy lidded eyes as his face went slack and his brow furrowed, taking great pride in the way you made this broad, strong, beast of a man all pliant and soft underneath you. How you and you alone with one touch or look could stop him dead in his tracks.

"Yeah, sweetheart, that's it," he growled when you started to move. He pressed his head back into his pillow and groaned, watching as the evidence of your arousal smeared between you both with each rock of your hips. His hands gripped your waist, one set of fingertips brushing up against the shiny, but faded, scars on your ribs. His eyes focused on them for a moment, allowing his ego to inflate just a bit when he recalled what you would be willing to do for him. It was the same he would be willing to do, and have done, for you: kill anyone who dared try to do you harm.

His hands drifted over your stomach, rough palms gliding over smooth skin, until he reached your breasts. He squeezed one, then the other, then drew small circles over your nipples, flicking his nail against the hardening bud and making you whine.

It didn't take much convincing. Just one hand pressing lightly on your back made you fall forward, planting a hand on either side of his head so he could take your nipple into his mouth while you continued to ride him at a pace you seemed to enjoy best.

"Feel so good," you practically slurred, your mind growing numb as your pleasure built. He released your breast with a smack to his lips and pushed you back so you were upright once again. His eyes looked black when he met your gaze and he clenched his jaw before he muttered lowly, "fuckin' take it. C'mon, lemme see you work for it."

You took a deep breath and stabilized your palms against his chest before tilting your hips up and dropping them down quickly, over and over in a steady, fast rhythm that had your skin slapping together obscenely in the otherwise quiet house.

"Yeah, that's it. Fuck, what a good girl," he murmured. You could see the shift in his face now and it fucking thrilled you. Gone were the sweet, loving looks and chaste, gentle kisses. Now that his own pleasure was mounting low in his stomach, his cock throbbing and begging for release deep within you, he was growing impatient. He bared his teeth while you kept up your fast, tight pace, eyes flashing up at you hungrily, heat flushing his chest and neck and you briefly thought he looked not unlike an animal, the thought only spurring you on more.

"Keep fuckin' yourself on my cock, sweetheart," he gritted out. "Look so pretty like this, all stuffed full of me. My beautiful wife," he added, his voice dropping to an adoring whisper with his last words. It had you tipping you head with a deep moan, your gaze locking onto the ceiling while you continued to ride him as best you could with trembling legs.

And he could feel it. He could feel your legs shake, he could hear your breath stutter and he knew you were growing weak but fuck if you didn't try to push through it just to please him. The mere thought practically short circuited his brain, his senses dulling at the idea of someone as perfect as you wanting to do what he asked. But he knew you were tired and sore from the previous night. He hardly let you rest once you finally tore away from the festivities to be alone for the first time as husband and wife, but you both knew the desire was double sided. You couldn't keep your hands off him, either. After all, it was you who dropped to your knees in your beautiful fucking dress right on the other side of your front door, barely making it inside, to take his cock down your throat.

So he decided to help. His hands found their place on your hips, thumbs pressing into the crease of your thighs, and he bucked up into you, each movement paired with a deep grunt that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your fingernails digging into his chest.

When your body shuddered and your jaw hung open, a sharp gasp the only sound to leave your lips, he smirked because he knew what would happen next. Your perfect fucking pussy clenched around him so deliciously, squeezing and relaxing over and over again while each wave of your orgasm ripped through you. The sight and feel was unlike anything else, the experience simply incomparable.

He lifted you off him quickly, making you yelp in surprise, and rolled you over so you were on your back. He knelt between your legs and furiously tugged at his cock, his eyes fixated on your spent cunt. He groaned loudly and fell forward onto one hand as he came, painting your stomach with his release, and you watched in a daze as you continued to catch your breath.

"Christ," he gasped when he was finally finished, then collapsed next to you with a tired groan. "Gonna kill me one day."

You giggled and tossed your forearm across your eyes, and he grinned before reaching toward the ground for something to clean you up.

"Why don't I make you breakfast?" he offered softly as he wiped the rag over your belly. You hummed and dropped your arm to your side with a smile.

"I think Julia baked us muffins as a wedding present. The basket should be downstairs somewhere."

He was surprised his stomach didn't growl on command.

"You stay here, I'll be right back," he said before kissing the tip of your nose and lifting himself up with a grunt. He slid on his boxers, not fully convinced that Ellie wouldn't come bounding through the front door unannounced, before heading down the steps. While the coffee brewed, he rubbed his lower back with a wince. The last twelve hours wore him out, but he wouldn't ever let you see it. But by the time he got back upstairs with a tray full of muffins, coffee and apples, he could tell you were just as exhausted as him. You had hardly moved from the spot where he left you, but he couldn't deny you looked completely relaxed.

You ate in a comfortable silence, picking at baked goods and feeding each other pieces of apple until you were full. Afterwards, you took his left hand in both of yours and admired the way it now looked adorned with a gold band, marking him as yours forever.

"Looks good on you," you murmured. He smiled and cupped your jaw with his other hand, kissing your lips so tenderly it took your breath away.

"What do we do now?" he asked, nuzzling the side of your face.

"What we promised we would do," you said with a sigh. You leaned into him, head coming to rest on his shoulder while his arms circled your waist, holding you as close as he could.

It took him a moment, but he understood what you meant.

I promise to love and cherish you. To remain faithful, to protect you, to laugh and cry with you. To grow together and lean on one another. Until my very last breath, this I swear.

His chest swelled at the memory and he felt so happy in that moment, he thought he could float away.

He took a deep breath and kissed the top of your head before replying.

"Okay."

[oceantornadoo]

lavender haze (price x f!reader, explicit use of weed/smoking mention)

it was the happiest day of your life. john was on one knee, smiling and holding a ring box up to you. your smile was too big for your face. as you reached forward for him, the ground shook, causing you to look up. that wasn’t right - you were in a hellscape. the air clogged your lungs, buildings were burning and screams rang out. the cries of innocents permeated the air. john was still on his knee, smiling. a popping sound surrounded you, then he wasn’t smiling anymore. the ring lay in a pool of blood as your captain’s eyes glazed over…

“wake up, lieutenant.”

you couldn’t stop looking into john’s eyes. and where was his hat? he never went to battle without it.

“c’mon, you need to wake up.”

you could hear them coming for you. the same footsteps that killed john. they were right behind you and-

“baby please, wake up.”

you woke up with a gasp, the room pitch black around you. a lamp flicked on, casting the motel room in an eerie glow, illuminating the man next to you. your captain, decidedly and platonically just that, was a bit flustered, his hand on your back to track your breathing. “y’ were having’ a nightmare.” you nodded, sucking in greedy amounts of air into your lungs as you calmed down your body. it was routine now, waking up in the middle of the night and walking yourself off the ledge of a panic attack. unfortunately, this time had to be when you shared a bed with your captain. platonically. for the mission.

“i find a smoke helps when i can’t sleep.” he’s still here, rubbing your back in small circles. your heart jumps and you kill it with a reminder of how he fist bumps and shoulder taps the men on your team. it means nothing, he’s just being a good captain. “don’t have anything on me.” your voice is gravel, hoarse from the phantom screams in your dreams. “‘s ok. i could use a smoke too.” he drops his hand, moving to get out of the rickety mattress this establishment calls a bed. you avert your eyes at the sight of him in a casual t-shirt and boxers, willing your overactive imagination to go away. the imagination that thinks about how he’d look after a one-night stand or a casual lie-in with his lover. the one that inserts you into the fantasy.

“c’mere.” the room has a small balcony, barely enough room for two, but he gestures to you anyways as he unlocks the door. there is something in his hand, but your sleepy brain tells you it’s too small to be a cigar. odd. when you walk outside, you’re immediately met with the edge of the balcony. it’s truly standing room only. a glance to your left reveals your captain looking for threats in the night sky, finally satisfied when his shoulders drop an inch. he takes out a lighter, something with the image of a santa claus that you can imagine gaz gave him as part of his old man jokes. john raises something to his mouth. the smell is odd, not that of his regular cigars, and it takes you a second to process as you wrack your brain. “is that…weed?” he exhales in a partial laugh, restraining a cough since you ruined his proper exhale. “surprised, lieutenant?” you scoff, reaching for the joint. his fingers brush yours, the joint really too long for that to be necessary, calluses on calluses setting your body aflame. you take a hit, trying to remember how to inhale correctly as it’s been a while since you’ve smoked weed on a balcony with someone. not to mention, your captain. “big inhale, lieutenant. not just a mouth breath.” you hum as you exhale, satisfied you’re able to follow his instructions. “good girl.” he is too, apparently. you shake off any underlying message.

“can’t believe my captain smokes weed.” he takes the joint back wordlessly, fingers brushing yours again. “rarely. jus’ for nightmare occasions. never on a mission.” funny, since you're both waiting for exfil the next morning. a bit closer to a mission than you imagined he usually did. “technically, we’re still on a mission.” you were on your third hit now, time going fast when it was just you and john on this lonely balcony. “necessary exception. can’t have my best lieutenant runnin’ on an empty tank.”

you bit back a smile at his compliment. “i won’t tell ghost if you won’t.” john rewarded you with a chuckle, a deep belly laugh you’d only heard once or twice. so this is what he was like high - a man who allowed himself to have fun. you could work with that. “won’t matter. y’ve got him wrapped ‘round your finger.” a jilted gasp escaped you as you refrained from stomping your feet. “no way! if anything it’s soap since ghost calls him johnny. i couldn't get away with half of the things soap does.” the joint was almost finished and you hadn’t even realized. he offered you one last hit before putting it out on the railing. disappointment sank heavy in your stomach, a feeling that the moment was almost gone.

your captain turned to you, a string pulling you closer until you were standing under him. his eyes were red, smile lines fresh. “you look good. sorry, relaxed. i see why you smoke now.” you murmured. his hand reached out into the space between you, then dropped back down. weird for him of all people to make an uncertain move. “think soap is to ghost what you are t’ me.” this had to be a cruel trick the universe was playing on you. “you mean you’re wrapped around my finger?” he nodded slow, the weed sinking its claws into him. “you’re just high, captain.” he frowned unexpectedly. “‘s john.” oh. oh. you nodded silently. the next steps were fuzzy, a dance you’d never learned.

“what was your nightmare about?” that was not what you thought he would ask. “um. the usual. the battlefield and dying and…yeah.” this time, his hand had a direction. it raised to your hairline, tracing the skin gently as his thumb led the way down to the curve of your ear. he felt that too, seemingly enamored with the softness of your earlobe before dropping his hand completely, like it never happened.

“you said my name, before you woke up. screamed it, practically gave me a heart attack.” his eyes were questioning, burning into yours like an interrogation. “oh. yeah, it was, um. youwereinmydreamandyoudied.” you practically spit the last part out, turning your head to study the skyline instead of finding whatever was on his face. unexpectedly, the weed made you both talkative and shy, a combination you didn’t expect. maybe it was sativa. “what happened before i died?” it was like he knew what happened, even though there was no way. right? you couldn’t resist a sideways glance, tracking the open earnestness of his face. “you were…proposing.” the last word was a whisper. “which is crazy, obviously. just a stupid dream.” you cut in before he could open his mouth. there was that frown again, one he rarely directed towards you. before tonight, that was.

“like this?” there was a yearning in his voice and when you blinked, he was on one knee. somber, not smiling like in your dream. he was realer, a wrinkle here and a gray hair there. your feet took you closer until his view was your thighs. that’s when you remembered you’d gone to bed in only a t-shirt and underwear, not having packed for an extra night in a motel. the triangle of your panties peeked out from your shirt and embarrassment creeped up your skin.

“i’m sorry, this is inappropriate. i shouldn’t be dressed like this, i'm sorry, captain.” his gaze hadn’t moved. “john.” a low exhale escaped him, like you saying his name had lifted a weight from him. unlikely, but a nice visual.

“‘ve never heard you say my name.” he was still on his knees, but he moved his head until he made eye contact. “guess i never had a reason.” he tilted his head to the side. “what’s your reason now?” you were scrambling off the edge of something you couldn’t see. you didn’t know this game you were playing. “you- you told me to.” he nodded, raising back to his full height off his knee. for some reason, you were disappointed. “you’d do anything i ask you?” it was the weed, surely, that made you nod vigorously. “get on the bed, then.”

you got on the bed. could feel him vibrating behind you as you walked towards it. turning, you sat on the very edge, legs tightly pressed together. “you’re high.” he shook his head. “barely. bein’ high doesn’t make me lie, sweetheart. quite the opposite, in fact.” you had no mental energy to get into the word sweetheart. it had already warmed your belly and turned you inside out.

“i’m high.” he said nothing. “barely.” you added with a whisper. “out of excuses yet?” you spread your legs instead of answering, letting him step in between them. he bent down slowly, turning your chin to him like you were something precious, something to take his time with. the kiss was slow, both of you tasting bitter because of the weed, and it was magical. you wrapped your legs behind him until he got the message, pushing you down. he grinded into you, hard and wanting.

“i’d propose to you now, y’know. jus’ don’t carry the ring with me on missions.” it took a second for the message to get through, especially since his lips moved to your neck, biting and sucking. “there’s a, fuck john, there’s a ring?” he was leaving hickies, surely. the weed had turned him into a teenager, and you giggled at the thought. he misinterpreted your laugh, pulling back until his eyes met yours.

“you got a problem with a ring?” you whined at the loss of him on you. “no. no. c’mere.” he leaned down for a kiss and you flipped the both of you over, straddling him with ease. his hands landed on your ass, pushing you closer until you could feel his hardness. he was such a possessive kisser, biting you when you drew back for a millisecond. his scruff scratched you pleasantly and you hummed like a cat in the sun. his neck felt so delicious under your fingers and you decided to explore it, small kisses and kitten licks until he was growling.

“you wet f’ me, baby?” his tone unlocked a memory. “you called me baby earlier. when i was sleeping.” john didn’t give you an answer, staring at you expressionless. “and?” it sent you sputtering. “you can’t call women baby when they’re asleep.” there was that frown again. “‘m not callin’ women baby. ‘m callin’ you baby. because you’re mine. got a problem with that?” you shut him up with a kiss. he was infuriating.

the wetness between your thighs was concerning. your hips were grinding of their own accord, the feeling of his clothed cock between your folds addicting. the weed supplied you with confidence, fingers reaching down to move your panties to the side. he let out a groan at the feel of your bare cunt against his boxers, soaking them through.

“not fuckin’ you like this, baby. not here.” you nodded against his skin, tongue darting out to lick at the beads of sweat that hard formed. “still want to come, though.” if weed made him laugh like this, you were determined to get him high every day. his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you harder and faster against him. the angle was perfect, the contours of his body catching your clit with every grind. his eyes were open, tracking your every movement.

“john,” and he understood you completely, catching your mouth with his lips again. he tasted like yours. pressure coiled in your stomach at the thought. john was yours. “captain,” you groaned against his lips, reveling in the strained sound he let out. “gonna make me come before you do, sweetheart.” his mouth left yours, instead biting your breast over your shirt. it was too much: the sweat, the grinding, the bites he delivered with vigor. he pushed you down harder, the motion brushing your clit and sending you over the edge.

“fuck, baby.” it sounded like you both said it at the feeling of his cock leaking cum beneath his boxers, the fabric soaked both ways. time stopped as you both looked down, taking a second to take in the sight. it was absolutely carnal, the grinding without fucking. a claiming.

“‘m tired.” you whispered. neither of you had a change of clothes so you both stripped them off, reveling in the sight of your naked bodies together. he pulled you into him, tucking you under his chin as you wrapped yourself in his body heat. so strong, so capable. your hands traced his chest, tangling in his body hair, until sleep overtook you. finally, a nightmare-free sleep.

--

i have no idea what made me write this since i haven't smoked in like over a year. if my depictions of being high are inaccurate, welp. also yes i headcanon price as a smoker but very occasionally just when he's stressed

[itsthecline]

FWB!RAFE ONE SHOT

cw afab!reader , substance use , profanity , smut ( making out , grinding , fingering , recording unprotected pinv , spanking , daddy kink , praise & slight degradation kink , creampie , kinda dom!rafe/sub!reader )

18+ minors DNI

rafe is definitely the one to initiate anything and starts this whole thing you two have going on. you come over to his house one night ( not unusual , considering you’re such close friends ) after you and some guy you were seeing broke up. really you just needed some time to calm down about the entire situation , so rafe offers to smoke you up to help you let loose.

at first , you’re just smoking together while you rant about how much of a douche this guy was to you all the time and how stupid you felt for even liking the kid to begin with. and rafe really , truly can’t understand how the hell any guy could fumble as bad as this. even though he was only ever your friend , rafe had thought about what it’d be like to have you several times — mostly late at night , sometimes when you were hanging out with him and the guys on the Druthers and your swimsuit was riding a little too high.

eventually , the conversation slowly gets more explicit , you recalling all of the times this guy couldn’t even make you cum and laughing about it with rafe. “what an idiot.” it’s the first thing rafe says that really catches your attention , questioning him for the meaning behind his small murmur. “i can’t imagine how pissed i would be if i had the chance to be with you and fucked it up by not being able to make you finish,” he said and just his tone gave off the impression that he wanted to prove it to you— that he wouldn’t make the same mistake this other guy did.

and you’re high , your inhibitions are low , and rafe looks sooo good — so who’s to blame you when you meet him in the middle when he pulls you in for a kiss? he doesn’t hesitate to take over , yanking you into his lap without breaking the kiss ; he deepens it. your hands find purchase in his dirty blonde hair while his find your hips , squeezing tight , running up and down your sides just wanting to feel you.

rafe is kind enough to let you set the pace for a few minutes , letting you grind yourself down onto him which only makes you groan into his mouth. it’s when you pull back that rafe gets to start his work. kissing down your neck , biting and soothing the sting with his tongue , sucking bruises into your skin that you would surely bitch about tomorrow.

you lean back a little , rafe chasing you as you continue to grind against him. your short skirt had ridden up around your hips which only left your small panties in between you and the hard-on he’s sporting under his jeans. every once in awhile you glide against him just right , causing your mouth to drop and rafe’s hands to squeeze your ass a little tighter one of them coming down to spank you only spurring you on further.

“oh , you like that , huh?” so cocky with the way he speaks and laughs lowly in your ear. you can only manage a whimper in response , pulling him away from your neck and back to you to go in for another kiss , needing the relief of his lips against yours again. it was hard to remember the last time just making out felt so good.

one of rafe’s hands sneaks around to the front of you the other finding it’s place on your thigh , testing how far the night could really go , feeling the damp cloth between your legs and the way you melt into him at the delicate touch. he pulls your panties to the side gently before running his middle and ring finger through your slick folds , groaning at how wet you already were.

and he can’t help but think that this all didn’t take much , and he could’ve had made a move a long time ago.

he works you up a little more , rubbing at your clit and holding you to him before teasing your entrance with both fingers. you grab his wrist , impatiently helping him move a little quicker than he’d like. rafe’s taking his time in everything he’s doing , really trying to take it all in. the noises your making , the way you feel , everything.

rafe dips both fingers into you , pussy clenching around the intrusion and a moan ripping through your throat. he starts working his fingers in and out of you while his thumb is rubbing circles on your clit and you help him , grinding into his hand. you forget where you are and the fact that sarah’s upstairs in her room until rafe adds a third finger , causing you to fall into him and moan far louder than you had been.

“take me upstairs,” it’s not a request when you say it. and just like that , you’re empty again with rafe picking you up in his arms and heading straight to his room while you attack his neck with your lips grumbling about how someone’s excited. you let out a soft giggle , kissing him again.

when you get to the room , he tosses you down onto the bed before yanking your hips to the edge by your thighs. you sit up on your elbows , taking in how good rafe looks like this ; swollen lips , messy hair , damp spot formed on his pants thanks to you. you can’t recall a time you didn’t think rafe was attractive. he was objectively a good looking guy. but something about him being so wound up for you made him look even better.

“whatcha looking at me like that for?” rafe asks , head tilting to the side a little bit , cheeky smile gracing his face.

you sit up , pulling your top off and throwing it to the side not caring where it landed. “i’m waiting for you to prove that you’re a little bit better than the rest of the guys on the island , rafe,” you admitted , leaning back on your arms waiting for him to make a move again as he eyes your now free breasts.

“i’m not a little better.”

“no?”

“i’m way better,” he corrects you before kneeling down on the floor and pulling you to him , hot breath hitting your core before he dives in.

it took you off guard , how quickly went to eating you like a starved man , but god , did it feel good.

your hand flies to the back of his head to hold him closer to you. his nose nudges your clit over and over as his tongue dips into you. “taste so good for me , baby.”

baby.

he’d never called you that before. it was always variations of your name , your last name , or simply y/n. never baby.

you let yourself fall back into his bed all the way , head flying back , mouth letting moans fly freely as he added his fingers back into you. the noise was visceral and the only thing you could hear besides rafe’s low groaning into your core and your own breathy moans.

“fuck — don’t stop. gonna cum,” you announced , hips trying to chase the feeling of diving off the edge , but rafe’s free hand pushes you back down , holding you in place to his liking.

you’re so fucking close , and rafe can feeling your cunt tightening over and over again around his fingers. he pulls his mouth away from you , kissing your inner thighs and his fingers pound into you harder. “need you to cum for me , baby. cum on my fingers,” he breathes out.

and with a curl of his fingers that right band within you snapped. rafe’s hand didn’t stop when you fell , helping you through your orgasm and working you up again for another. “good girl , that’s it. did so good for me,” he smiles at you , rising from the floor and unbuckling his belt.

your lips are still tingly and you can’t hear fully quite yet , but you can feel rafe’s body hovering over you , his hands running up and down your thighs in an attempt to soothe you a little. “y’alright?” he worries slightly , tapping your cheek to get you to open your eyes.

you let out a soft hum , your eyes glossed over and trailing down rafe’s body. you sit up again , reaching out for him and tugging at the hem of his shirt. “want this off.”

rafe doesn’t waste any time , ripping his shirt off and taking his pants the rest of the way off , leaving him in just his boxers to match you in your panties. “want to see how much better i can get too?”

so fucking cocky. but nonetheless you nod with a smile , already feeling ready to go again. “give it to me , cameron.”

green light.

rafe grabs you and flips you to your stomach , pulling and maneuvering you the way he sees fit before rubbing his cock up and down your folds. for the first time ever , he hadn’t cared too much about his own relief.

usually , when he was hooking up with someone , it started with him receiving the sloppiest head he could get and following it up with fucking the poor girl into his mattress to finish himself off while getting her to where he needs. but this time , he couldn’t tear his focus away from making you feel good to the best of his abilities.

you can feel rafe pause , still rubbing himself through your arousal. and as greedy as it may seem , you needed him in you now. “condom?” he simply asks. your throat is still dry , so you swallow the lump in your throat rock your hips back , the tip of him catching and sliding all the way into you.

this. this is what heaven felt like.

the two of you groan in sync , rafe’s head tilting back as his grip on your hips tightened , definitely leaving bruises in their wake. “fuck you feel good.”

good doesn’t begin to describe it. you feel so full , so warm. you continue rocking your hips , fucking yourself onto rafe’s cock in an effort to let him take a break after the orgasm he ripped out of you moments before. it’s what he deserved. “yeah? you like this dick , baby?” he grunts , slapping your ass and gripping you to move you on and off of him after you let a whine pass by your lips.

“fucking love it!” you reply , head hitting the sheets as you kept working yourself on him.

with a certain roll of your hips , rafe nearly cums right then. “that’s it,” he grumbles , shifting his weigh and shoving you further into the mattress before slamming into you. he keeps going with his hard thrusts , his pace picking up. “taking it so fucking good for me. bet that idiot you’ve been giving this to would die if he saw you like this.” rafe chuckled lowly , just imagining how good it would feel to see the look on that guys face.

your head raises a little bit , looking over your shoulder and catching rafe’s eye. “why don’t you take a video? show him how much better you are to me than him? if you want,” you suggest , big , glossy eyes staring into his soul. could you be more perfect?

rafe’s hood stutter before coming to a stop. he pulls out quickly , reach over to his nightstand for his phone and opening the camera and starting a video. “c’mere , baby. fuck yourself on my dick for the camera. show everyone who’s treatin’ you so good,” he coaxes you back onto him.

you do as you’re told , sliding back until rafe’s hips start doing the work for you again. his hand comes down on your ass , spanking you a few times in a row only causing you to sink into the bed more. “you feel so good , daddy!”

god , he knows that the two of you have talked about your kinks before. it was just something that came up one night while you were hanging out with your friends , but he didn’t expect you to pull that one out. “yeah? your daddy taking care of you. showing you how it should be?” he fucks into you harder , pulling all the way out before slamming back in. “fuck , i’m gonna cum , baby.”

it’s like he read your mind when he reached around you and starting flicking at your clit again. “cum in me , daddy. shit , fuck! don’t stop , please don’t stop!” you’re babbling at this point , just wanting rafe to keep going , to get you there one last time.

“make your daddy cum , baby. being such a good little slut,” rafe groans , resting back on his calves to let you work for it just a little bit , his hand staying perched on your lower back to help you keep your pace.

you listen to him , throwing your ass back to help him finish just like he had for you earlier. “wanna make you come,” you whine , reaching your hand between your body and the sheets to rubbing your clit , needing just a little bit more. rafe catches this and slaps your hand away , rubbing furiously until he feels you flutter around his length over and over and over until you let out a wail. your legs are shaking as you collapse into the bed , no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore.

rafe drops the phone to the bed , gripping both of your hips and thrusting into you hardest he has yet. he covers your body with his , as his thrusts become sloppier and lips attaching to your neck , mumbling how close he is and how good you are. your cunt spasms around him again , tears flooding your eyes in pleasure. your mind goes fuzzy. you can’t even tell when he stops fucking into you , his body deflating and his weight coming down on you.

“you still with me , baby?” rafe questions , pushing himself off of you and grabbing the camera again. he pulls out , focusing the camera on his cum spilling out of you in a mixture with your own. he slaps your ass and jiggling the fat under his hand before spreading your cheeks to get an even better view of the aftermath. “you did so good for me.”

rafe stops the recording , tossing his phone to the side again before standing up and going to his en suite bathroom. meanwhile , you come back to feeling your legs and roll yourself over to catch your breath. “jesus christ , rafe!” you call out , just loud enough for him to hear you from the bathroom.

he comes back into the room with a damp towel , reaching to clean you up gently. “you staying the night?” he asks softly , looking at your face to meet your eyes.

he sees you ponder it , really think about such a silly , simple question. “yeah , i think i’ll stay,” you smile softly. really , it was because you didn’t think you could sit up let alone get back to your house across the street.

rafe pulls a pair of shorts on swiftly before hopping into the bed next to you and grabbing his phone. “here , send that shit to what’s his face.” he hands his phone over to you , and you can’t help but laugh a little as you type in your ex’s number and press send. you toss rafe his phone back into his lap and let your head hit the pillows again. “straight to the spank bank,” rafe partially joked , putting the video into his hidden folder.

“you’re such a pig , cameron.”

woooo , this was so much longer than i intended it to be. it is my first post & first time writing smut so be gentle with me

[artyandink]

lipstick, baby

Summary: Dean liked to indulge as a demon. On food, pie, women. To him, it’d just be him seducing every single girl that came by with a wink and a flash of his pretty smile, then they’d practically be spreading their legs for him. Then there’s you. There was something about you, that had him coming to you instead of you to him. He wasn’t really complaining.

TW: Drinking, Demon!Dean objectifying women but also being hot at the same time, badass reader, smut, mention of Sam, Crowley being a wingman, reader has a bone to pick with Heaven, reader’s a former hunter

STW: Riding, thigh slapping, ass slapping, tit slapping, whiskey play, temperature play if you squint, really filthy stuff, dirty talk, unprotected sex (do not try at home unless you are married and want kids), switch!Dean, switch!reader, marking (except Dean’s is marking with lipstick), uhh- mentioned dacryphilia?, degradation on both sides (use of slut, pussyslut), face sitting, fingering, slight exhibitionism?, praise kink if you squint, oral sex (m + f receiving)

Song Inspo: Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande

Whiskey every day really was the fine life, Dean mused as he finished his fifth glass of whiskey in the fifth bar he’d hit in three months.

Sam, of course, had been on the lookout for his location, but he never stayed in the same place for very long, which made him harder to find. It was fun, of course. Sex with women night after night, hearing them scream for him as he broke Crowley’s bed with no regrets. Anything to satisfy his high sex drive. Then he’d move onto a new one, and see them struggle to walk the next day. They’d shoot him a sultry, almost inviting look for him to fuck their legs out (they didn’t have much brains, so legs were the next best option), but he didn’t care. It was always a one use for him, not much more than that.

The bartender, a sweet piece of eye candy with long brunette hair, creamy mocha skin and a smile that told him all he wanted him to do to her, passed him a new glass with three fingers of whiskey, her fingers brushing his with promise of her getting on her knees and using her fingers and mouth on his cock.

Too bad, cause she did that a few days ago on her break, right before he blew her legs out.

The clearing of Crowley’s throat snapped him out of his inner monologue, having Dean glancing towards him on his right side. “Courtesy of the lady across the bar.” The former drawled, nodding across the bar counter.

Dean rolled his eyes, scoffing lightly and looking across the counter- god-holy-damn.

Your hair, your eyes, your lips. Those pretty things stretched into a smirk that could only be sultry as you nursed a whiskey, your scarlet lipstick leaving a print on the rim like the one he had on his napkin. It instantly sent thoughts of those prints on his chest and abs through his mind. Over his anti-possession tattoo. On his cock.

Dean wordlessly stood up, making his way slowly over to you. He took notice of everything. The corset bra underneath the red plaid that was left open. Ripped jeans that clearly had garters visible and the beginnings of sexy nylons visible.

Oh, he approved. He definitely approved.

“And who might you be, sweet thing?” Dean asked, voice low and panty-dropping and rough. He leaned his side against the counter, his eyes taking their sweet time in analysing every dip and curve of your body and imagining his hands on them. His own body burning as if your hands were already on him. Damn, that ring on your middle finger would feel so good.

“Said it on the napkin.” You replied, and then he nodded, checking it again. Ah, now he saw.

Dean offered you a smirk that was enough to make any other lady’s legs open wide, but yours didn’t. You just offered one back. “Pretty name.”

“Will I ever know yours, or will you remain the handsome, mysterious stranger who comes here every night?” Paired with a chuckle and a slow sip of whiskey right over the previous red print you’d left on the rim. Damn, you were good. Just the sound of your voice was enough to have him twitching in his jeans.

“Dean Winchester.” He drawled, his tongue tracing his teeth, hoping to sink them into your skin and mark you. A bit of a detriment to the enticing visual was the obvious mark of being a hunter. Dean could tell one of his former own. There was a silver knife in your boot. “And you’re a hunter, sweetheart. Here to kill me?”

The question had a scoff coming from your mouth. “Hunter? Baby, no, you got me all wrong. I’m not a hunter, especially after the dicks who call themselves angels have been makin’ good America into a clusterfuck. I doubt I’m gonna be happy with ‘em. This knife ain’t for you.”

The statement had a grin spreading on Dean’s face. You hated heaven, he liked that. You spoke your mind, he liked that. Your words rolled off your tongue, he liked that. He liked you. “Got a bone to pick with heaven, darlin’?”

“Less a bone, more an eyeball, but call it what you want.” You shot back with a sip of whiskey. Yeah, you were really good.

Dean’s hand found your hip, gripping it, his thumb pressing into your skin. “Can I call you what I want, baby girl?”

“You’re already doin’ that, Dean, I doubt there’s much more ground to cover where that’s concerned.”

“Damn straight.” He grinned, getting closer and closer. He felt your hand on his bicep, gripping firmly. Your hand on his shoulder, creeping up to thread your fingers in his hair. It all felt so… dizzying. “Tell me, what’s a fine piece like you doing in a bar like this?”

“Just passing through, seeing the sights.” Oh, dear Lord, now he could feel your breath on his. Dean was used to having control as a demon. “And now… I got another one on my list.” This time, it was like there was a rope and you were holding the other end of control instead of him holding both ends. Cause right now, all he could think about was how your thigh pressed in between his legs, grinding firmly against the bulge made by his rapidly-hardening cock.

The friction had a low groan rolling off his tongue, but it was sealed from the others in the room by your sweet, dizzying lips, your hand on his bicep sliding to his upper back and pressing him closer. By base, pure instinct, his hand on your hip pulled you closer, movements slow, calculating as you both shared your whiskey palette with every searing kiss.

Dean could take in your scent from the proximity. Earthy spices. Sharp perfume. The distinct musk of whiskey. All enough to make a normal man’s head spin. Made him want to add the sweet taste of your pussy to the menu.

And all at once, all too quickly, your lips left his, but burned a trail from his jaw to tease his earlobe with your teeth. “How about we ditch the party and go somewhere more comfy?” You murmured, your nails raking over the fabric of his shirt, over his chest. “Place is kinda dead anyway, and you seem like all kinds’a fun.”

“Mm.” He hummed in agreement, fumbling with his wallet and slapping a random amount of bills on the counter. “I’ve got a place.” Humming again, he grabbed a handful of your ass, rolling it before slapping it firmly. “Let’s go, darlin’. Now.”

“Fuck.” You stumbled back through the door to Crowley’s room, Dean’s lips attached to yours like you were his last dying breath. The room itself was a grand one, with a queen size, pieces of lux furniture and two beside tables, one of which having a bottle of whiskey on it.

One of his hands was tangled in your hair while the other was, like before, groping your ass, harsh breaths coming in bursts against your mouth. His scent of whiskey, beer and old leather mixed with yours, a cocktail of dizziness and heat and pure sex.

Dean was too preoccupied with the way your scarlet lips fell, smearing onto his own and then his skin, as you’d abandoned his lips to start laying your claim on his neck. And he wasn’t sure when his flannel and undershirt made it to the floor, but it did, and now he was bare chested and sporting red lipstick marks all over his chest, and the numbers were climbing.

He groaned, his hand tangling in your hair, reminded of his old self (however much he didn’t want to be, but now he wasn’t really complaining), his love then of being dominated by a woman and damn, was he enjoying it now.

Perhaps because it was you who was dominating in this moment.

Doesn’t mean he wasn’t going to revert back to his preferences.

Dean tugged your hair, baring your neck to him and allowing him to attach his lips to your neck, unclipping that godforsaken corset bra with a hum, finding your bare tits. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.” He murmured, reaching a hand up to roughly grope one of them, his mouth descending to one nipple and letting his mouth envelop it, sucking harshly and flicking his tongue over it, his index finger and thumb toying with the other in tandem with his tongue, pulling or pinching with each suck.

“Shit-” Your hand flew to his hair, arching into his touch with a low moan and a couple more expletives. The feeling was electrifying— cause damn, did this man know what he was doing. He switched his attentions, swirling his tongue around your other nipple before sucking over and over and over, wanting to draw as many sounds from you as possible-

Wait, why was he sucking on air suddenly?

Dean looked down to see you on your knees, undoing his belt buckle with a surprising amount of efficiency and popping the button on his jeans, pulling down the fly. They pooled my his feet, and he kicked them and his boxers off- holy shit.

You’d taken Dean’s cock into your mouth, the whole expanse, swirling your tongue like he did on your nipple and taking the whole length of him, right until he hit the back of your throat, relaxing your throat to avoid your gag reflex from kicking up.

Dean’s fingers twisted in your hair, a strangled groan leaving his mouth as his hips bucked into your mouth. “So good, baby girl.” He choked out, gritting his teeth. “So good with those pretty lips around my cock- son of a bitch.” As expected, the lipstick not transferred to his mouth and chest was now on his skin, and he didn’t mind one bit.

You pulled almost all the way off to suckle at his tip, a motion that had him jerking once and then twice once you took him back into your mouth with hollowed out cheeks.

“Keep that pussy wet for me, darlin’.” Dean grunted, his head tipping back. “Keep it as wet as that beautiful mouth.” And you obliged, your hand moving to undo your jeans’ fastenings, slip past rub and toy with your clit, your pussy already damp from his ministrations on you.

Your hand gripped his thigh, and with a few well-timed swirls of your mouth and assistance from your hand, he was spilling into your mouth with a drawn out moan of your name. It was like white hot sparks went through his system, but he recovered quickly, pulling you off his cock once you’d swallowed every last damn drop.

With a well-practiced move, he hoisted you to your feet and threw you over his shoulder, striding across the small distance between your previous position and the bed with a firm smack to your ass, throwing you down onto the bed. He licked his lips at the sight of you like that, practically collapsing down on top of you to press a searing kiss on a freckle that resided just above your belly button, yanking down your jeans in the progress as he then went on a mission to mark up the majority of your torso with his teeth.

Once he was done, he took a moment to admire the sexy constellation before stealing a kiss from you. Dean’s eyes landed on your garters and the skimpy little nylons you were sporting under the jeans, as well as the now ruined black lace panties that matched the corset bra he’d unclipped earlier. A grown bubbled up in his throat, followed by a gravelly chuckle.

“You really know how to get the attention of a guy like me, huh, sweet thing?” He murmured, sweeping a hand over his mouth and biting his lip, taking a moment to really appreciate the visual.

“I take more pride in what comes after.” You gave him a sexy smirk that had his cock throbbing. “It’s one thing to get attention, but I take more pride in keeping it.”

That got him nodding. “You sure can keep it, baby.” He worked off the garters and nylons, chucking them aside and hooking a finger into the hem of your panties. “Attached?”

“Do I look like I’m sewn to them?” A wink from you. Damn, he was hooked. Line and sinker.

“Touché.” He flicked his wrist, which tore the panties until they were beyond repair, dropping them somewhere else. His eyes locked on your soaked pussy, and fuck-shit-crap was it the most pretty thing he’d ever seen.

Within seconds, Dean had your legs over his shoulders, slapping your thighs and kneading them, using the grip on them to spread you open and run his tongue up your dripping cunt. The moment he got his taste, of the sweet, sweet ambrosia, something switched and he really began to work.

He felt your fingers thread in his hair again, your palm pressing him closer to you, and was he complaining? No. He could make a damn home right here. Right here, at your pretty fuckin’ pussy.

He’d fuck that pussy raw.

“F-Fuck, Dean!” You gasped, your thighs closing around his head, but he didn’t mind, lapping at you before licking up to your clit so he could suck at it. His fingers joined the party, slipping one in, then add one with no resistance whatsoever, with had him groaning against you and sending vibrations through your body that felt rather like electricity. Blinding electricity.

“That’s right, pretty thing.” He growled against your cunt, crooking his fingers before sucking on your clit again. “Show me how goddamn needy you are.”

You found yourself barrelling to the edge quicker than any other man had ever possible managed, and damn, did it feel good. Too good.

“Gonna-” You had to cut yourself off to gasp and let your eyes roll back when Dean curled his fingers and hit your g-spot, “gonna come-”

“Come for me, baby.” Dean encouraged, slapping your thigh firmly, kneading the flesh. To get you there, he traced his name out on your clit before sucking, which had you coming on his fingers and tongue, maximum voltage sparking your veins and hanging stars in front of your rolled eyes.

You felt Dean’s tongue lapping up everything you had to offer, all your come and he didn’t waste a drop. He sucked your arousal off his two fingers, licking his glistening lips and collecting the copious residue off his chin with his thumb, sucking that into his mouth with a look that could only be described as pure porn.

The sight of him - mussed up hair, naked, lips smeared with red, the same to his neck, chest and cock - was pure porn.

“More.” Was the only thing he said (growled, more like), and he flipped you over, practically manhandling you until you were kneeling on the bed. Straddling his face.

His hands took your hips and yanked you down, and he instantly licked a long stripe up your pussy, your hand flying to grip the headboard as you ground down onto his face, obscene sounds leaving your mouth but you didn’t care, really. All you cared about was the god of a man making you fall apart in record goddamn time with just his mouth.

Dean grabbed handfuls of your ass, slapping the softness and groaning into your cunt. This was honestly where his element was. Not hunting, not demonhood, no. He belonged with his tongue on your pussy.

His hands reached up to grope your tits, kitten-licking at your clit while his fingers tweaked your nipples, adding a dual level of stimulation that made you rock your hips faster.

Dean’s left hand reached down, swiping two fingers through your soaked pussy and lifted those to your mouth, and he chuckled. “Suck, sweet thing.” You took those fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself and feeling those two fingers that had previously worked magic on you in your mouth. The calloused pads pressing on your tongue. “That’s it. Such a slut for my mouth, huh?”

“Could call you a pussyslut then, hm, Dean?” You panted amid moans, running a hand through your sweaty hair. “Can’t get enough of it, can you?”

“Well played.” He growled, working faster, determined to get you over the edge. A few more licks, a couple more strokes and Dean did just that, his name rolling deliciously off your tongue as you came on his tongue for the second time. He drank all that up too, like a parched man in the Sahara.

Dean was normal used to sensitive, pliable women at this stage, but no, you shifted back and shoved him down when he was about to get up, making him fall back with a soft grunt, his head pressing into the pillows.

His hands gripped your hip and thigh by instinct, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin when you lifted yourself, sinking down onto his cock and taking all of him in one.

All of you was an expert at this.

“Fuck.” Both of you moaned in unison, his hands tightening on your hips while your nails raked down his chest, leaving red trails that instantly cleared up.

You couldn’t help but whimper, your hand gripping the your hair as you adjusted to how goddamn big he was. Out of all cocks you’d taken in your life, Dean fuckin’ Winchester took the cake. “So good.” You muttered absentmindedly, already feeling your pussy clenching and him buried all the way inside you, reaching places you didn’t know you had.

“Shit, sweet thing, you’re so tight.” Dean groaned out, and his hand left your hip to grab the bottle of whiskey, popping off the stopper with his thumb and chuckling. When he saw you not moving, he slapped your tit, hard, but somehow extremely sexy. “Move. Now.”

Now, had that been anyone else, you’d have tied their wrists to the headboard and edged them until they cried. But with Dean Winchester, well, you could risk relinquishing control for a second, or five.

You began moving- up and down, up and down at a dizzying pace, one that had your thoughts clouding as the side of his cock brushed against your g-spot. “Oh, fuck, baby.” You moaned, your mouth falling open. What was it with this man?

Dean took a sip of whiskey from the bottle, swallowing it and grunting roughly. “That’s it, pretty thing. Ride my cock. Bounce on it, attagirl. That’s a good girl.” You let out a whine in response, and an even louder one tumbling from your parted lips when you felt the cold sting of strong whiskey drip down from your chin, to your neck, over your tits and further down, poured by Dean from the bottle of whiskey that was then returned to its place on the bedside table.

He leaned forward, lapping up the whiskey from where he could reach, guiding your movements while his tongue flattened against your skin and licked stripes over your neck, your nipples, the swell of your tits and the valley between them.

“Y’look so good on me.” Dean growled, using his now purchase on your hips to bring you harder down onto his cock, watching it disappear into your pussy with gritted teeth. One hand left your hip, thumb finding your clit and once again tracing his name before moving into fast yet calculated, perfect circles, his lips adding to it by sucking more and more marks onto the skin of your neck and chest. Making sure you couldn’t cover them, not easily, at least.

“Y’look so good under me.” You shot back after a series of moans and whimpers and loud expletives, and he laughed deep and rough, hand finding the back of your head and bringing your lips against his, parting them, letting his teeth graze and tug at your bottom lip. His hand smoothed over the curve of your ass, gripping it for the nth time that night. Then, before he knew it, your pussy had clamped down on him like a vice, and you were over the edge, coming with a rolling of your eyes back into your head.

Dean gripped your chin, bringing you to look at him with hazy eyes as his name was ripped from your lungs, crying out and rendering you breathless as he then worked you down from the high, chasing his own by thrusting up into you.

Works two ways. You get to come down and he gets to come. Fair deal.

And the deal was fulfilled on both ends, cause while you had come down from your high with a delicious ache and/or satisfaction in your pussy, courtesy of Dean, he’d also got to come, spilling into you.

Thank God you took Plan B, even though it’s not 100 percent effective.

You lifted yourself off of him, rolling onto your back beside him as you both caught your breath. You’d sort of had an out of body experience, being treated to three intensely mind-blowing orgasms. And you’d always been the one to dominate. Not today, since a demon unexpectedly called Dean Winchester had proven you wrong with his gravelly voice and rough nature.

Damn, if you were a hunter, you’d be missing out on this religious experience.

“I’m assuming you’re the type to do a lady then go.” You breathed, running a hand through your sweaty hair while both of you adjusted the blankets on you at the exact same time.

“I don’t think that applies this time, princess.” Dean smirked, looking you over with an impressed undertone and an obvious blazing heat in his gaze. “Nah, definitely not this time. I’m keepin’ you, for a very long time.” He chuckled, biting his lip. “If you’ll allow me to keep you, darlin’.”

“Keep me, maybe not.” You winked, but then grinned. “But I’m definitely stayin’. Can’t just do you once and then leave it right there, can I?”

“Damn straight.” He chuckled, then rolled onto his side, cupping your cheek and thumbing your bottom lip. “Cause I’m still wonderin’ what else you can do with that pretty mouth of yours.”

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 ��𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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[theostrophywife]

CHAPTER ONE

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🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: sunroof by nicky youre.

🤍 author’s note: wake up babe summer theo just dropped.

Step 1 of Pansy Parkinson’s Perfect Plan of Plotting

Meet Cute — : A cute, charming, or amusing first encounter between romantic partners.

Every good story starts with a meet cute. Unfortunately for Theo and Y/N, their first encounter happened when they were still both in their mother’s wombs, but I won’t let that deter me. What better way to start off the summer holiday than getting rescued from a remote airport by your knight-in-shining armor with a fresh haircut and a recently acquired driver’s license? Side note: research the credibility of the Ufficio Motorizzazione Civile because whoever granted Theodore Nott a valid license is clearly bloody mental. Regardless, those two will be riding off into the Italian sunset in a brand new baby blue convertible and it’s all thanks to me. 

First Year, Hogwarts Express

On the other side of the frosted glass window, the English countryside passed by in a dizzying blur as the rain painted the landscape in a dreary haze. The train left a trail of smoke and steam behind as it journeyed along, bringing you closer and closer to Hogwarts. You shifted in your seat, nearly sliding off the red leather cushion as you trained your eyes on the horizon. 

By evening, you would arrive in the Scottish Highlands to begin your education at Hogwarts. When you got on the platform at King’s Cross, you thought that the worst of your anxiety would subside, but it only grew within you like a cresting wave. Being away from home for the first time in eleven years was intimidating enough, but now you had the sorting ceremony to fret over. 

Your parents were convinced that you would be sorted into Slytherin as they had when they both attended Hogwarts. Up until now, you were fairly confident in this as well, but the minute you boarded the train, doubt started to rear its ugly head. 

You had to be sorted into Slytherin. Not only because you’ve had the green and silver posters hanging in your room since birth, but also because you couldn’t imagine being in any other house. 

Just then, the cabin door slid open and startled you out of your thoughts. Theo plopped down next to you and stretched his legs on your lap. 

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “There’s two benches in this cabin, Teddy.”

Your best friend grinned, his messy brown hair falling over those moody watercolor eyes. “Yeah, but they’re not as comfy as you.” 

His cheeks were rosy from running around the train, but yours were even more flushed in comparison. Theo always had that effect on you. “I found the others, by the way. They’re in Malfoy’s cabin eating their way through a mountain of sweets. Did you want to join them?” 

You shook your head, looking out the window. “Maybe later.” 

Theo swung his legs over the bench and faced you. “You’re nervous.” 

It wasn’t a question. Theo knew you well enough to read your silence. 

“Is it that obvious?” 

“Not to anyone but me,” he said reassuringly. “You haven’t stopped twisting your ring since we left London.”

You looked down at your right hand and surely enough, you caught yourself twisting the emerald ring on your middle finger. It was a nervous habit that you weren't even aware of until Theo pointed it out a few years ago. 

That was the thing about your friendship. You spent so much time together that sometimes it felt like Theo was an extension of you. His mother used to say that the two of you were destined to be best friends, given the fact that she and your mum were closer to sisters than friends after forming a lifelong friendship during their time at school. 

It was one of the main reasons why the sorting ceremony worried you so much. For your entire life, you had gotten used to doing everything with Theo. The two of you had been inseparable since birth. A part of you had always wondered if you and Teddy would be friends if it weren’t for your mothers. 

“What if I don’t get sorted into Slytherin?” you asked in a small voice. 

Theo leaned back and tugged at the end of your scarf. “Of course you’ll get sorted into Slytherin.” He smiled, curling his finger around the cashmere material. “Did you know that when we were born, our mums put us in matching green and silver booties? I didn’t endure all that humiliation just for you to back out now.” 

“I’m serious, Teddy.” You shoved your hands into your pockets and stared at your shoes. “What if we get sorted into different houses? What if you meet your housemates and decide that you’d rather be friends with them than me?

Theo’s expression softened. “Hey,” he said, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. A stupid sorting hat won’t change that. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He paused, grinning. “Unless you end up in Gryffindor.” 

You smacked his arm, trying and failing to fight the smile tugging at your lips. “That’s not funny, Teddy!”

He chuckled. “I’m just winding you up, fragolina.” 

For an eleven year old, you suppose that calling a freckled redhead little strawberry was peak comedy. At least Theo seemed to think so. 

“Speaking of which, are you sure you’re not a long lost Weasley? Then you’d really need to worry about Godric snatching you up.”

“You are an absolute menace, Theodore Nott.” 

Theo grinned. “But would an absolute menace remember to buy you candy?” 

He reached into his pocket and held his palm out to you. In his hand sat a familiar purple and gold box that held the best treat in the wizarding world. 

“A chocolate frog,” you said with delight. “My favorite.”

“Got it from the trolley. I figured you could use a little cheering up. Though I might’ve accidentally sat on it.” 

You giggled, holding up the slightly dented box. “Thanks for the chocolate blob, Teddy.”

Theo grinned. “Any time, Y/N.

Day One, Vallara Floo Station

The phone rang and rang and rang.

You looked around helplessly at the floo station, praying to whatever gods that were listening that Pansy would pick up. Much to your dismay, you were sent straight to voicemail. Again.

“Pansy Parkinson, you better be laid out on a yacht with hot Italian witches dangling grapes into your mouth because that’s the only acceptable reason for not picking up your bloody phone. I swear to Salazar, I think I just told a man that I’d love to pet his chicken. Theo’s never going to let me hear the end of this—”

At that moment, you became convinced that the heat of the Italian countryside had melted your brain because you could’ve sworn that you recognized the familiar laughter echoing from behind you. 

“I’m offended, bella. All those years of friendship and yet you’ve never offered to pet my chicken.” 

You nearly dropped your phone when you whirled around and came face to face with your best friend. The Italian sunshine had been good to Theo. He looked tanner than when you last saw him, bringing out the moles and freckles that painted his olive skin like constellations. Those piercing blue eyes crinkled when he smiled and the sight of it nearly swept you off your feet. 

As if reading your mind, Theo enveloped you into a bone-crushing hug. The scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke enveloped you like a comforting hug. The hem of your gingham sundress billowed as Theo twirled you in the air. You laughed in delight, not caring one bit that the two of you were making a scene in the middle of the floo station. You hadn’t seen your best friend in two months, which was nearly an eternity for you and Theo. 

After graduation, Theo had headed down to the Italian countryside to spend the summer with his nonna. Usually, you would’ve joined him, but you were busy visiting family in New York. As fun as the States were, you missed home and you missed Theo — the two of which were synonymous in your mind.

“I missed you, fragolina,” Theo murmured into your hair. You grinned, squeezing him to convey your agreement. 

“Missed you too, Teddy,” you said softly. Theo set you down, giving you the chance to fully examine him. He was wearing a white linen button down and cotton shorts, his usual attire to combat the summer heat. Handsome, but in an effortless sort of way. 

You cocked your head, running your fingers over his chesnut waves, which were now tinged with gold, courtesy of his constant exposure to the sun. “You cut your hair.”

Theo nodded, running a hand through his cropped cut with a self-conscious expression. “I like it,” you said decidedly. “It looks good on you.” 

Satisfaction coursed through you as Theo blushed, his cheeks tinged with pink. It reminded you of the very first time he ever wore his natural waves around you. It was sometime during second year when you both got drenched from the rain at the Black Lake. You ran your hands through his hair, smiling as you told him that you quite preferred his hair that way. Since then, Theo stopped gelling his hair. 

“Big changes this summer,” Theo declared with a wink. Without hesitation, he gathered your suitcases and hauled them along like they weighed nothing. To him, they probably didn’t. You could’ve used his strength when you were struggling to lug your bags through customs. “Speaking of, I finally got my license.” 

Your jaw dropped. Ever since your dad took the two of you out on a joyride in his beloved vintage Mercedes — Mercy, for short — Theo had become obsessed with learning how to drive. You had no interest in it, but your best friend was absolutely adamant. When he put his mind to something, Theo was quite unstoppable. He even managed to convince your dad to give him lessons. Not on his precious Mercy of course, but on the family car. 

“I have no idea why you would want to ride around on a steel trap when there’s a perfectly good tube system at home,” you chided, swatting at your best friend’s arm as he rolled his eyes at your repeated lecture. “But I am proud of you, regardless.” 

“Good, cause I’m about to take you on the joy ride of your life.” 

You halted as Theo bounced past the entrance, walking right up to a very expensive looking vintage sports car. The baby blue top down sparkled in the sunlight and its chrome interior shined so spotlessly that you could see your reflection staring back at you. Theo gingerly arranged your suitcases in the backseat, careful not to disturb the delicate white leather seats. 

“You did not,” you gaped in disbelief. 

Theo only grinned. “I did, too.” 

He rounded the hood and reached over to pull the door open. You turned back, hesitation written all over your face as you surveyed the car. Despite its vintage style, you knew that it would probably be fast. Too fast for your liking. 

“No offense, but are you sure they didn’t make a mistake during your driving test? Maybe they meant to give the license to someone else.” 

You were proud of Theo. Truly, you were. But you had been witness to one too many driving lessons where he accidentally ran over the curb or nearly flipped the car from how fast he turned. Needless to say, it didn’t exactly inspire confidence. 

Your best friend huffed in indignation. “I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent driver. Even my examiner said so.” 

“She should probably get her vision checked, then,” you murmured under your breath.

“I heard that,” Theo stated with narrowed eyes. He ushered you along, herding you into the front seat. “Your lack of confidence in me is quite frankly appalling, fragolina.” 

“It’s not that I’m not confident in you,” you explained as you buckled in. “I’m just not confident that you won’t abuse the poor, defenseless curbs of your homeland.” 

“I promise you, I’ve gotten much better since my last lesson. Now sit back, relax, and feel the beautiful breeze of Italia against your skin.” 

You did no such thing. You spent the first few minutes white-knuckling the seat cushions. Theo, on the other hand, whistled a happy little tune as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. To his credit, his driving seemed to have improved since the last time you witnessed him get behind the wheel. Enough for you to gradually release the chokehold you had on your seat. 

“So, where’s our gracious host? Too busy sipping on limoncellos with pretty stregas to pick up her best friend from the station?” 

Theo’s mouth quirked. “Close. She’s trying to keep Malfoy and Riddle from tearing up the villa. They had a little disagreement about the room assignments. Draco wanted the room facing the east side of the house, for an optimal view of the sunrise.” You snorted at Theo’s overexaggerated snooty impression of your blonde friend. “Of course as soon as he expressed this, Mattheo suddenly wanted it for the same reasons. Never mind that the twat rarely wakes up before noon.” 

“Another lover’s quarrel,” you said rather sarcastically. “What’s new? Hopefully they kiss and make up before we get back.” 

“They’re going to have to,” Theo stated as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m not spending my summer holiday listening to those two twats fighting. I did enough of that at school.”

“How strange is it that we’ve graduated? I swear, it feels just like yesterday when we first got onto the Hogwarts Express. Now you’re driving me around the Italian coast and you haven’t hit a single curb. I wonder what other miraculous things the future has in store.”

Theo snorted. “It’s me and you against the world, bella.”

“The way it’s always been and the way it’ll always be.” 

The road curved around a hill, providing you with a breathtaking view of the sunny skies and clear blue water glittering below. Despite your teasing, Theo was doing a great job of maneuvering through the narrow path. He was driving slow and steady, giving you enough confidence to lean against the door and peer at the wonders of Vallara. 

Villas with colorful pastel roofs painted the hillside with pops of pinks, greens, and blues, broken up by patches of yellow from the lemon trees swaying in the breeze. The air smelled like sea salt and citrus, mixed in with other delicious smells wafting from the countless restaurants lining the market square. One of them in particular, La Dolce Vita, instantly caught your eye. 

“Should we say hi to nonna?” 

“She’s busy prepping for dinner back at the house. As soon as nonna heard that you were coming, she insisted on making everything herself.” 

“She didn’t have to do that,” you said, smiling fondly in the direction of the restaurant. You adored Theo’s grandmother. She was a strong, loud, and vibrant woman that you’ve admired since you were a little girl. Not to mention, her cooking was to die for. “Although I would kill for her cannolis.” 

“There’s a fresh batch waiting for you in the fridge.” 

Your mouth watered at the thought. “I’m surprised she’s letting us use the villa. I thought we were banned after Mattheo set off those fireworks in fourth year. I’ve never seen nonna that mad.” 

Theo chuckled at the reminder. Thanks to the fire fiasco, the villa had become off limits. Every visit after was to the townhouse in Rome, where she could keep a closer eye on all of you. As beautiful as the city was, you missed the countryside. Life was more peaceful out here — slow and sweet. You were determined to savor every moment before the reality of adult life hit you full force. 

“Pansy can be quite persuasive,” Theo replied. “Plus, she promised to wring Mattheo’s neck herself if he tries to stir up any trouble.” 

“It’s not a matter of if,” you corrected as Theo pulled up to the private road that led to his family’s villa. “It’s a matter of when.” 

Your best friend hummed in approval as the car slowed to a stop. Theo parked his convertible on the driveway and killed the engine as you admired his ancestral home. The quaint country house sat proudly at the top of the hillside, its regal structure looming over the village below. The terracotta roof sloped over the towers jutting out on each side of the massive structure, the seafoam green walls wrapping around the side porch, the rounded arched windows, and the romantic balcony overlooking the blooming garden at the back of the villa. It was just as charming as you remembered. 

“Home sweet home,” you murmured in awe. 

The wonder of this place never grew old. Theo’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, hauling your luggage over his shoulder and leading you inside. The sunbaked walls greeted you like an old friend, the sea breeze filling the entire place with the scent of salt and citrus from the large open windows. The furniture was mismatched, but in an endearing way that somehow felt like it all belonged together.

You walked between the arched columns leading into the living room, which were bracketed with wooden banisters that overlooked the entire first floor. The further you ventured, the louder the noises echoed. 

The sunny kitchen seemed to be the center of activity. You peered inside, smiling instantly when you saw the familiar figure hunched over the stove. Nonna whistled as she stirred the pot, the incredible smell of her cooking hitting you with a wave of nostalgia. Her happy tune was interrupted by the bouncing boy beside her and she tutted at Mattheo as he peered over her shoulder. 

“Dio mio, did I not tell you to wait in the living room?” Nonna asked with an exasperated sigh. “You’re making me dizzy with all your bouncing.” 

Mattheo smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, nonna. Everything just smells so good. Are you sure you don't need me to taste test?” 

“You’ll eat when the food is ready,” she huffed in response. Mattheo pouted in disappointment, his gaze darting to the fridge hungrily. “Don’t even think about touching my cannolis. I made those for Y/N especially.”

“If you’re nice, I might share.” 

Nonna grinned as you walked into the kitchen with Theo trailing behind you. She pulled you into a hug, kissing both of your cheeks as you laughed. “Thank God you’re here. This one has been driving me up the wall all afternoon.” Mattheo let out an indignant huff, but nonna ignored him. “Sit, piccolina. I’m sure you’ve had quite a journey. Theo here tells me you visited the States?” 

The way nonna crinkled her nose made you giggle. Like every other sensible European, she wasn’t the biggest fan of anything American. “Yes, I stayed with my cousin in New York for a few weeks. It was a fun time, but I am glad to be back home. I’m afraid their cooking isn’t up to par with yours, nonna.” 

“This is why you’re my favorite,” she chides, pinching your cheeks. “You’re just in luck then. Dinner will be served soon. If you can stomach it after my grandson’s driving.” 

Theo heaved in disapproval, which only made you grin. “It was actually quite a nice drive. The view was stunning and Teddy here managed to get me here in one piece.” 

“I’m glad. Theodore has been talking my ear off about it the whole summer. Nonna, I can’t wait until Y/N gets here. I miss her. Do you think she misses me? I hope she likes my car. Don’t you think she’d look quite pretty in her sundress, sitting in the passenger seat?” 

Mattheo snickered as Theo cleared his throat. “Alright, that’s enough. We’ll let you get back to your cooking so I can show Y/N to her room, nonna.”

Without another word, Theo wrestled you out of his grandmother’s clutches. Nonna winked at you behind his back, making you giggle. She wasn’t subtle at all about the fact that she wanted you and Theo to be together. Nonna had been hinting at it since you were thirteen. 

You trailed after Theo, noting the blush on his cheeks as he climbed the stairs. “Did I live up to it, then?” 

Theo scrunched his brows, pausing at the top step to allow you to catch up. His long legs always gave him a rather unfair advantage. “Live up to what?” 

“Did I look pretty sitting in your passenger seat in my sundress?” 

“Don’t know,” Theo quipped. “You were too busy gripping the seats for dear life to allow me to make a clear judgment.” You rolled your eyes fondly, which made him chuckle. “I’m kidding. Of course you looked pretty. You always look pretty, Y/N.” 

Now it was your turn to blush. You bit back a smile as Theo ventured down the hallway. 

“I’m still here you know,” you startled at Mattheo’s presence. You nearly forgot that he was following closely behind. “I swear to Merlin, the world could be falling to shit and you two would still be too busy making googly eyes at each other to notice.” 

You rolled your eyes at your curly headed friend. “I’m guessing Dray got the room you wanted based on your grumpy behavior.” Mattheo swatted at your hand when you tried to pinch his cheek. “Don’t worry, Matty. There’s always room in the wine cellar.”

He stuck his tongue out in response, followed by a smirk that you knew meant nothing but trouble. “Oh, I snagged the Rose room.” 

“That’s my favorite room and you know it!” 

“Don’t worry, Y/N. There’s always room in the wine cellar.” You narrowed your eyes before lunging at him. Mattheo laughed maniacally, dodging your grip as he weaved through the second floor. “Guess you and Notty boy are just going to have to double up.” 

The little traitor ran straight into your room — his room now apparently — and slammed the door shut. “What does that mean?” you asked Theo. 

He shrugged. “Probably nothing good, knowing the twat.” 

His suspicions proved to be true when you ran into Draco and Pansy. They both greeted you with hugs, though Draco seemed a little put off. 

“Good, you’re finally here!” Pansy exclaimed, brushing her bangs off of her forehead.

“With no help from you, by the way. You said you were meeting me at the floo station.” 

“I had to take care of a situation. Theo here jumped at the chance to show off his little baby blue convertible and offered to pick you up instead.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s been buzzing since yesterday. I swear, he doesn’t even try to hide his favoritism.” 

“Well, Y/N doesn’t strong arm her way into staying at my family’s villa. Not to mention conspiring with my nonna for god knows what else,” Theo added bitterly. 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “So dramatic, Theodore.” She pushed the door open to the main suite, revealing the enormous room. 

The interior was bright and airy. A fresh coat of pastel pink covered the walls, but the ceiling remained a creamy shade of white with the exposed wooden beams giving the room a cozy and rustic feel. A four-poster bed faced the balcony doors, which provided a view of the gardens below. The salty summer breeze rustled the linen curtains, carrying the pleasing scent of honeysuckle and lavender. 

Theo set down your luggage by the tufted velvet sofa. You ventured out through the balcony doors, leaning over the parapet to peer at the pops of pinks, blues, and purples dotting the property. By the poolside, Enzo and Blaise reclined on cushioned chaise lounges, sipping on spritzers and soaking in the sunset. You waved at your friends down below and they returned the gesture, raising their glasses with blissful smiles. 

When you turned back around, you found Pansy fiddling with a flower arrangement. She placed it on the table closest to the balcony, smiling to herself when she finally got the bouquet to look the way she wanted. The stunning view, the luxurious vintage furniture, and the intricate fireplace all felt very romantic. After all, nonna did deem this the honeymoon suite, which made you all the more suspicious of why Pansy was suddenly bunking you up with Theo. 

Before you could question the witch, she turned on her heel and crossed the suite. “I’ll give you two a moment to catch up, but don’t take too long. Dinner will be served in an hour.” Pansy lingered by the door, a dangerous glint sparkling in her eyes as she winked at the two of you. “Enjoy the honeymoon suite.” 

If that wasn’t confirmation that Pansy Parkinson was up to something, then you didn’t know what was. You glared at the dark haired witch, but she seemed oblivious as she skipped off. Probably on her way to meddle in someone else’s business. 

“Well, this was unexpected.” 

“Tell me about it. Now I have to keep my things tidy or else I’ll never hear the end of it.” 

“A messy room reflects a messy—”

“Mind,” Theo finished for you as his lips curved into a smile. “I’m well aware, bella. You’ve been saying it since we were ten.” 

“Yet it hasn’t quite sunk in.” 

“You’re just grumpy from international travel. I know what’ll make you feel better though,” Theo announced with a sunny smile as he trotted over to the bathroom. You stared longingly at the amenities, which housed a rain shower head, a tiled bench, and a heart shaped tub. “Hop on in.” 

“Theodore Nott, is this your way of telling me I stink?” 

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” your best friend said with a cheeky little smile. He plugged his nose and waved his hand in front of his face. You smacked him on the arm, which only made him grin even wider. “Will it help if I hopped in with you?” 

A fierce blush crept up to the tips of your ears. “Pervert.” 

“What? We used to take baths together all the time!” 

“Yeah, when we were three.” 

Theo shrugged. “Semantics. I promise not to steal your rubber ducky this time.” 

You groaned in frustration, smacking him once more. “Not a chance in hell.” 

“Are you sure? I’m a very efficient shower buddy. Just ask Mattheo.” 

All the filthy thoughts filtering through your mind only served to make you flush even more. At this rate, your face probably matched your hair. “Get out, Theodore.” 

Theo chuckled as you pushed him out the door. It was a feat in itself given the fact that he towered a good foot over you, but you managed to shove him through the threshold. Your best friend chuckled before placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“Have a good shower, fragolina,” A devious grin tugged at his lips as he paused. “Try not to think of me while you’re in there.” 

You rolled your eyes, but the words had already planted a very dangerous seed in your mind. As you stepped into the shower, you were ashamed to say that you failed Theo’s challenge. 

This bloody honeymoon suite would be the death of you. 

A wave of nostalgia hit you full force as you made your way down the stairs. In the dining room, your friends sat around the large mahogany table chatting and drinking. You exchanged a cheek kiss with Blaise and ruffled Enzo’s hair before making your way over to your usual spot. Theo grinned up at you and patted the seat next to him. 

“How was your shower?” 

“Fine,” you answered robotically. “Great. Uneventful.” 

Theo didn’t miss the way your eye twitched. The twat actually smirked. “I don’t know about that, bella. You sound a little tense. Should’ve taken me up on the offer. I would’ve been more than happy to throw in a complimentary massage. If you asked real nicely.” 

You flushed, crossing your arms. “I’d sooner invite Mattheo to shower with me than ask you for a massage.” 

Mattheo’s curly head perked up from across the table. “Oh?” Much to Theo’s annoyance, his best friend wiggled his brows and winked at you. “Finally tired of Notty boi, huh? You want a dose of Riddle, babe?” 

Before you could deign to respond, Nonna swatted the back of Mattheo’s head. He protested, but she showed no signs of remorse as she took a seat at the head of the table. 

“Do not ruin my appetite, Mattheo.” Nonna scolded. “Now be a dear and pass the lasagna. I didn’t slave away in the kitchen for hours just to listen to your lecherous comments.” 

At Mattheo’s defeated expression, you and Theo tried and failed in keeping in your laughter. Riddle glared at the two of you, but resigned himself to following Nonna’s orders. As your friends piled pasta onto their plates, a bittersweet feeling rushed through you. 

The people seated at this table had been an integral part of your life for as long as you could remember. Pansy, Blaise, Enzo, Draco, Mattheo, and Theo had always been just a couple of steps away, but now that you had all graduated, the seven of you would be scattered in different places. It made your heart ache just thinking about it. 

“We still have the whole summer,” Theo whispered softly. He nudged his knee against yours under the table. The familiarity of the gesture brought you comfort. It never ceased to amaze you just how well Theo knew you. 

“And the rest of your lives if I have anything to say about it,” said nonna as she filled your glass with red wine. “Smettila di fare il codardo, nipote.”

Theo groaned. You understood enough Italian to know that nonna was pushing her agenda again. “Not this again, nonna.” 

“I will not stop until you get it through your thick skull, Theodore.” 

As nonna launched into a full on lecture in her native language, you grinned in amusement at your best friend. Theo sulked like a child, but his expression brightened as you knocked your knee against his. 

After dinner, you spent the rest of the night camped out on the terrace. The view was stunning as the sun set over the horizon, tinging the villa in technicolor. Your friends gathered around the fire pit, sipping sangria and playing games. As usual, the boys found themselves a few galleons lighter after you swindled them during wizard poker. One would think that they’d learn their lesson by now, but your friends were still determined on risking their fortune against you. 

All except Theo. 

Knowing that his own mother passed down her skills of deception to you, Theo knew better than to challenge you. Instead, he sat back and watched the boys lose with a smile on his face. When you claimed your winnings, he beckoned you under the blanket and handed you another glass of wine. Though you could’ve easily blamed the sudden warmth on the charmed knit throw or the fine vintage, you had a feeling that the heat had more to do with your proximity to Theo. 

The scent of citrus and tobacco overwhelmed your senses as your best friend draped an arm over your shoulder. “Gonna share your prize with me, bella?” 

“Seeing as you did nothing to help me, I’m inclined to say no.” 

“Of course I helped. I pulled a vintage from the cellar so these idiots would keep playing even though they don’t stand a chance against you.” 

You chuckled. “Wine or not, they would’ve lost to me either way.” 

“Fine,” Theo said with a dramatic sigh. He pulled you to his side and kissed your temple “Keep your prize. I’ve already won anyways.” 

“You’re awfully sentimental tonight, aren’t you, Teddy?” 

“What can I say?” Theo mused, his blue eyes piercing into you. “This place brings it out of me. This country, this villa, it’s full of possibilities. Anything can happen here.” 

The heat of his gaze seared your skin, but you didn’t look away. A charge of electricity crackled in the air as if in confirmation of your best friend’s statement. 

Anything can happen here.

[starboye]

starring: hugh jackman x male reader

request: HAIIIII sooo i havent seen any hugh jackman x male reader at all and i wanna request for it hehe so it goes like this hugh basiclly meets reader a coffee shop worker and hugh baiscally keep going to that same cofee shop everyday until one day things get heated between them and they end up togetherrrr

warnings: fluff, kissing, mentions of sex

directors note: am i proud of this fic? not really but i wanted to post something for you guys today

having to work at a pretty shitty coffee shop was bad but at least it paid the bills so you cant complain to much and you got to meet some nice people along the way i guess and what do you know, one of those nice people end up being the famous hugh jackman himself.

although you didn't notice seeing as it was in the middle of your regular afternoon rush, he had ordered a simple black coffee which ended up tasting pretty bad but watching you glide around the kitchen taking everyone's orders and making drinks was so... so... i cant find the words for it but you know what i mean right?

he ended up coming back the next day when it wasn't as packed and he could actually learn your name "hi sir what can i get for you today" you asked looking up at the bulky and fine man who had a soft smile on his face as your eyes met his "can i just try a pastry this time" he chuckle remembering how bad the coffee was.

which begs the question of why did he come back if the main thing the shop sells is bad, maybe it's to see your delightful face smiling at him or maybe it's to really taste the pastries and see if those are good, it could really go either way (we know what he really wants).

"will that be all for you" you ask typing in his order and in a moment of hugh not thinking he blurts out "can i get your number too" without thinking, quickly slapping his hand over his mouth before just handing you the cash and backing away.

he was thinking of just walking out the door without his food and never coming back after that slightly embarrassing moment, but imagine his surprise when you hand his the pastry with your number written on the box "call me anytime" it said below it and his heart skipped a beat watching you give him a little wink.

he struggled to find when he should call you, to nervous that you might not remember him or that you wont like him but seeing as he really liked you he just pushed through the nervousness and typed in your number, hearing the phone ring longer and longer had him dying inside, but just when he was about to call it quits you picked up the phone.

"hello" he heard you speak "hi i-im the guy that asked for your number at the coffee shop" he stammered out, crossing his fingers hoping that you remembered him "oh yeah you" the memory snapped back into your head quickly "what's up" you happily said, keys jingling in your hand to get you into your apartment.

"i was just calling to say hey" hugh said, you could hear the nervousness in his voice and chuckled lightly "well hey to you too" you said and with that hugh ended the call, heart nearly pounding out of his chest.

he still continued going to the coffee shop even if it was pretty bad but at least he got to see your cute smile and you guys had mini dates hangouts in the store, just drinking some coffee and talking about your day.

until one day where you asked him to come over and help you close the shop seeing as everyone else had left early and it was a lot to get done (fuck a health code violation) hugh showing up within minutes if it meant it was just gonna be you and him alone.

after some time of cleaning of the counters and flipping chair along with sweeping the floor (the mopping can be done another day) you and hugh talked over a drink, both of you leaning against the counters "thanks for helping me out" you say giving him a little nudge on the shoulder "it was no problem really" he laughed "i wonder how i could repay you" you hinted at something else.

"no you really dont ha-" his words were cut off by you kissing him, your lips crashed against his until his hands found their way to your hips, lifting you up into his arms and carrying you to the storage room where you fucked the rest of the night, but at least the commute to work in the morning was quick.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[omega-e123]

Aftermath of this. Shadow’s prequel here

Immediately you hauled your ass home after the incident. What have you done?! Okay, back up. Somehow you caught Shadow off guard. Somehow you kissed the ultimate life form. Smooched! Pecked!

Then he disappeared. Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? This was a breach of personal space! But it also felt like he was returning the gesture. No, you must have been imagining it.

The awkward situation has you pulling on your hair in distress.. There is no way you could face him now. Flee the country. Change your name.

You hug the flowers close to your heart. At least.. he was thinking of you. If only you didn’t pull that move, maybe things could have slightly gone back to the way things were. It’s too late.

After being placed in a vase, your eyes study each and every individual flower. How you wish you could thank him for them. These particular flowers feel awfully familiar.. You can’t place your finger on it but it’s on the tip of your tongue.

In order to relax and calm your mind, you decided to take a long nap. Hopefully when you wake up, it was all just a dream. Climbing into bed, you bury yourself under the blankets and silence your phone. Sleep over takes you in an instant.

The sound of your doorbell ringing over and over pulls you from your slumber. It felt as though you slept a thousand years. When you pick up your phone to check it, it flash bangs you in the dark of the room. It was the middle of the night.

Your doorbell stopped ringing on your way over to the front door. You rub your eyes as you answer it, ready to give whoever was there or even the empty air a good yelling.

It opens and is slammed shut right after. What is he doing here? The day definitely was not a dream.

He bangs on the wood, “Open up.” An exasperated sigh leaves you. This guy is not going to give up. If Shadow really wanted to, he could have chaos controlled into your home by now.

You open the door just a crack, enough to see him. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Locking eyes, he shifts his gaze away. After moving the door further open, he says, “Walk with me.”

While you rush to put on your shoes, Shadow is waiting patiently and watching your every move. Strange. You expected him to have left you behind to catch up.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

On the way to the park, it was filled with awkward silence. Not a single cough, squeak, or word between the two of you. Night air cools your burning cheeks while walking side by side. Eventually you both spot a bench to rest at, overseeing the wide grassy area. The sky ever clear as the stars above twinkle.

Shadow allows you to sit first before taking a seat right next to you. Leaning forward, his fingers intertwine, opting to stare at them rather than you. Likewise, you pick a random tree to observe.

“I’m,” he pauses, unsure where to begin, “sorry I left without a word. These kinds of things, I’m not good at.”

“I thought you’d hate me after doing something like that to you,” you reply in the softest whisper. A wry smile appears on your face.

His head snaps up to look at you. Eyes widen in shock. He instantly protests, “No, I could never!” Placing a hand over his chest, he continues speaking, “I wouldn’t— couldn’t lose another person dear to me.”

Your breath hitches. You did hear that clearly right? Shadow considered you dear to him? Important?

You can feel his intense gaze on you. At the moment, you don’t have the courage to look him in the eye. “That’s.. a relief to hear. I also need to apologize.”

“For?”

“Avoiding you for so long and making you worry. You really didn’t do anything wrong, Shad. I let my feelings for you get in the way”

“Hmph. Consider it accepted once you realize what a fool you’ve been,” he says plainly. There was no bite in his words, rather a hint of playfulness.

What? You turn to him, absolutely astonished, “I’m sorry?”

Shadow leans against the back of the bench, arm over it. His other palm covering his face. He groans, “So you really haven’t noticed. Looks like I owe that damn bat fifty bucks.” His hand drags down to cover his mouth, “I noticed so many people eyeing you. A disgusting feeling constantly clung to my chest. Instinctively I kept myself physically closer to you. When I asked Rouge about it, that’s when...” Shadow trails off, not wanting to elaborate further.

So this whole time… You two were pining for each other, completely clueless that the feelings were mutual. The thought of it forced a laugh out.

“What’s so funny?”

“That’s why you had such a stink face glaring off in the distance!”

An exhausted sigh was his only response.

It feels a bit mean, but you couldn’t help but smile. You take a moment to look up at the stars. All of the tension dissipates into the air. How beautiful… Sort of reminds you of— ah! That’s why the flowers were so familiar. They’re the same ones at that field you and Shadow gazed at. He remembered. How thoughtful of him. You didn’t take him the type. Goes to show how much this whole ordeal flew over both of your heads.

Now that the air has been cleared, what next?

…

“Hey Shadow?”

“Mm.”

“You said you haven’t had much experience,” you begin.”

“Correct.”

You reach out to hold his hand before laying your head on his shoulder. “Can the ultimate life form handle a date?”

He gazes down at you, thinking about his next words: “If it’s with you, I have no doubt.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[lululandd]

Hey 🍄 (ow and sorry for the bad english) Can you write what you think Simon would be like asking you, in the middle of the night, if you still love him?

like when you have those dreams where someone cheats on you and now you can only look sideways at the person yk ... can you do? pleasee (I imagine Simon like "do you still love me?😑😑"

solace;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

wordcount: 574

warnings: fluff (´-ω-`) 

note: scrolling through fucking spotify looking for a title took longer than writing the goddamn fic

summary: simon had always made you feel safe, his touches gentle, his tone of voice playful, his kind eyes always telling you without words that you’re protected and adored.

It began with your bleary eyes cracking open; seeing the fabric of Simon’s shirt up close, moving up and down in tandem with the harsh breath you feel on the top of your head. You had moved closer together in your sleep, his hand draped over your shoulder while your legs tangle in between his. The whole bed oozes comfort, the knitted blanket–one he longingly looked at the farmers market–wraps over you both in a warm cocoon. 

Snuggling yourself deeper into the blankets and into him, you tried going back to sleep but Simon had started talking in his sleep and you intended to listen.

“Fuck off..” There was silence for a prolonged amount of time before he mumbled, loud and clear, “I’ll kill you.”

“Simon..” You whispered. Remembering how gently he wakes you up when you have nightmares, you try to do the same to him. Placing your hand tenderly on his side, you murmured into his chest, “Please wake up.”

A violent shift came over him and as soon as his hand was off you, instinct took over and you backed away from him. He was a little hard to see in the darkness of the room and you scrambled for the bedside lamp to at least have some light to assess the situation.

Simon had always made you feel safe, his touches gentle, his tone of voice playful, his kind eyes always telling you without words that you’re protected and adored. So when for the first time he stared daggers at you, it made your blood run cold and you didn’t know what to think or do. Sleep has left you completely at this point.

He called your name, his voice quiet but you can hear the cutting bite underneath. “Do you still love me?” He asked suddenly, tensing at the sight of one of your legs hanging off the bed, as if to run away.

Unmoving, you searched his face, trying to read his emotions. “Simon, did you have a weird dream?”

The only response you get is a grunt and him extending his hand slowly, hovering between you like a silent offering. Looking up into his eyes, the hardened edge that he displayed earlier had dissipated so you ignored his hand completely; opting to roll into the bed towards him with your half of the blanket. His arms enveloped you completely even before you reached him.

“You didn’t answer.” He spoke into your hair, his hands hugging you even tighter.

“As if the answer could be no, Simon.” wriggling yourself free from his hold and the blanket, you turn around and bury yourself into his chest as best you could. “You also didn’t answer.”

“Dreamt you ran away with your ex.” 

“Ew.” you frowned. Above, you hear him blow air out of his nose. “Wanna get some tea?” You offered.

His hand came up to rub soothing circles onto your cheek before moving his palm to cover your eyes. “Sleep.”

Your breathing eventually evened out, and he was about to let you go and roll onto his side of the bed when he heard you exhale his name softly, the exhaustion and lethargy apparent in your voice. 

“I’m too busy being yours to love anyone else.”

Somewhere during your descent towards unconsciousness, you can feel him holding your hand, twiddling with your ring finger. The affection and sentiment is familiar, but sleep took over before any thought registers.

[lotsoflola]

mark and his hands [smut]

"fuck," he muttered under his breath, eyes widening as he watched his hands wrap around your throat.

your breathing sped up as your airway was slowly cut off, the cold silver of mark's rings pressing against your throat sending shockwaves straight to your core. your pupils were so large they were almost your whole iris, fixed on your boyfriend's hand through batting eyelashes. you were sat on his lap, thighs either side of his hips, pressed against him as his other hand pushed an escaped strand of hair back behind your ear.

he squeezed harder, causing your breath to hitch as you grinded against mark's crotch involuntarily, causing an attempt at a moan to leave your mouth. desperation and lust were the only things on your mind right now, added to as mark's spare hand cupped your jaw.

his index finger traced over your features, sliding over your cheek before swiping on your lips. you let him do whatever he wanted, pulling on your bottom lip until he could see your teeth. he let out a shallow scoff at how willing you were to please, how you were just taking all this. your hips couldn't stop their sporadic movements, moving in tandem with mark's squeezes against your neck.

"you like being choked, huh?" his tone was degrading, with a half laugh behind it.

he took his index finger and pushed past your lips, pressing down on your tongue as he entered your mouth. tongue wrapping around it without thinking, you began to suck, imagining as if it was his cock instead.

all mark could do was stare. "acting like a slut, aren't you?"

you whined in response as mark added his middle finger, pushing them right to the back of your throat as you choked around them. that wasn't good enough for mark though, as he tutted at your actions.

"i asked you a question, and i expect you to answer," he stated, giving your neck another tight squeeze. "you're a slut, aren't you?"

you attempted to respond to his question, but your answer was incoherent through mark's fingers, instead just a muffle of sounds.

"what was that?" he asked, teasing tone that caused you to almost cry with frustration, trying to answer him again to no avail. "god, not only are you a slut, you're fucking braindead. a braindead cockslut, only good for sucking dick and nothing else, huh?"

you shook your head frantically, but of course, frantic head shakes and whines were not good enough for your boyfriend.

"quiet down, now," he grunted, and you obeyed, staying silent as he removed his fingers from your mouth and dragged them down your face, holding your mouth opening before leaning over you, and spitting in your mouth.

the act was so dirty, so filthy, yet so indescribably attractive and you swallowed immeadiately, earning a slight smile from your boyfriend before both hands removed themselves from your body. you took deep breaths into your lungs, recovering from the restricted airflow you had been receiving, with your eyes never leaving mark's hands.

you grabbed them with your own, and started placing open mouthed kisses down his fingers, wet and sloppy as your mouthed at his skin. his eyes never left you, and blood shot straight to his core, his length growing underneath you.

"god, you love my hands," it was a statement, really, to himself, but you couldn't help but hum against his skin in agreement. "are you a slut for my hands?"

"yes," you mumbled against his skin, finally following his wishes for the first time that night. "want them inside me, please."

and who was he to deny you such pleasure.