#Rai is not topping tonight that's for sure

[shotmrmiller]

the tale of how simon got himself a gf without stepping a foot outside of base.

anyone can tell you that alcohol reduces the ability to use logic. to see reason. it lowers inhibitions and blurs the boundary lines you've drawn in the sand.

but indulging in drink tonight is justified. you're in need of reprieve after this shit week: broke up with your boyfriend, deadlines at work appearing out of thin air, a flat tire on your morning commute. you even stepped on the end of your cat's tail.

miserable. (she's okay, just giving you the cold shoulder. you'll buy her some tasty snacks tomorrow.)

but for tonight, you're wallowing in your own misery. some uninteresting show is playing on the television, you're cradled by the cushions of your couch, a fluffy sherpa throw over your socked feet.

if only there was a way to melt this week's accumulated stress away even further.

cue the drunk texting your ex cliché.

anyone can tell you that it's detrimental to moving on. it's akin to reopening a wound that's already begun to heal. a step back when you should only be moving forward. your friends would drag you by your hair for being so dumb.

but there's an incessant throb in between your legs that's only getting stronger with every glass of wine you toss back. you're wound tight, violin strings stretched to the brink. a couple of bow strokes away from snapping.

you'll deal with the consequences tomorrow, along with your hangover.

typing in his (deleted in a fit of heartbroken rage) number with fumbling fingers and send a picture of you with the hem of your sleeping shirt between your teeth, the swell of your bare breasts on full display with a cheeky little missing you <3

he responds in minutes even though it's 2:30am.

send a vid and show me how much you miss me.

it makes your pussy clench around nothing, already slick, drooling, begging to be filled. you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you bring up the camera.

when simon first gets the text, he's on edge, gripping his phone hard enough to crack. no one should have this number except for price, johnny and kyle. he's made sure of it-- had laswell pull strings to give him a secure line. no scam likely's, no cold calls, nothing.

but then some silly little bird dials his number by mistake and the sweet cherry on top is that you've sent a nude. breasts on full display-- soft looking, hard peaked. it makes his mouth water, his gums itch. he'd love to sink his teeth into them, into you, hard enough to bruise. mark. claim.

but that's for later, once he finds you.

he texts back and what you send him in response fattens his cock. a small hand tucked beneath the waistband of your flimsy knickers, gusset dampened with warm arousal. you lick your bottom lip, leaving it glossy with spit. your chest heaves with the sharp gasps of breath you're drawing.

but there's a problem. he can barely see what you're doing. he doesn't have x-ray vision, your knickers are in the way. while he can understand the allure, he himself doesn't have the patience for it. either you let him see your bare cunt or don't waste his time.

he wasn't expecting you to agree this fast. maybe a bit of push back, a little snapping of teeth until you relent but no. you're an obedient thing. submissive. just how he likes 'em. (if he wants to break someone in, that's what johnny's for.)

soft, inviting thighs spread wide, a couple of fingers curling inside your glistening cunt. (duly noticing how your 2 fingers are the size of 1 of his.) your moans spill from your lips unreservedly when you roll your pearl in tight, precise little circles. he spits on his hand, heavy length resting in his calloused palm and tugs himself at the pace you've set: jerky, quick, messy.

you come with a whimper, eyes shut and pliant body coiled tight. a frothy, sticky cream coats your fingers, dripping down to your arse, pooling on your couch.

you miss me too? sent 3:27 am

(he decides to keep you. simon can't remember the last time he's had a climax that spine stiffening in a while.)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

relaxing

words: 900

warnings: 18+ only, handjob, thigh riding, c*mming on tits, semi public (theyre outside but its very concealed)

“what's up baby?” rafe asks, noting the way you're softly whining as you sit on the patio, staring out at the water, listening to the waves gently lapping against the shore.

“want you.” you complain. you always want rafe, but now more than others as you clench your thighs together.

“i just fucked you this morning, you're already needy?” rafe laughs harshly, making your bottom lip pout out more as you press your forehead against his bare shoulder.

“what do you expect? you're sitting there all shirtless and sexy…” you peek down at his abs, glistening slightly with the sheer layer of sweat on his skin from the warmth of the sun.

“im relaxing right now though, baby.” rafe hums, shutting his eyes as he soaks in the rays.

you huff out in frustration, swinging your leg over rafes thigh and planting yourself down.

“feel free to get yourself off.” rafe places his hands behind his head, leaning back against the plush chaise cushion.

“i will.” you say defiantly, placing your hands on his abs. you're thankful for the lack of clothing your wearing as your bikini bottoms are the only layer you have to push to the side to press against rafes bare skin.

“your swim trunks are so short.” you giggle.

“they're the ones you bought me.” rafe rolls his eyes, pushing the hem down, showing off the the lines of muscle that disappear into his shorts.

rafe places a casual hand on your hip as you begin to move, grinding yourself into his leg, feeling his muscle clench as you move.

“can you-”

“no.” rafe hums. “i told you, im relaxing.”

you groan and move forward so you can rest yourself against rafes front and keep your hips moving. you sigh happily at the stimulation, not needing to get off immediately.

“can i-”

“hm?” rafe questions, bouncing his leg, cutting you off as you gasp.

“can i touch you?”

rafe smile grows, a lazy grin taking over his tanned features. “sure. im just not gonna do any work.”

you sit back up straight, pausing your movements, focus now turned to rafe as you grip the swim shorts you bought him specifically for the short inseam as you pull them further down his hips until you're able to get his cock out.

you're thankful for the privacy of your background, hedges on either side blocking your neighbors view of the patio as you stroke a single finger over his length before wrapping your fist around the base.

“so soft.” you giggle, rarely getting to play with rafes cock when it's not hard.

you gently stroke your first up and down, swirling your thumb over the head every time you move.

“fuck, that's good.” rafe moans, quickly hardening against your palm as you move up and down.

“gonna help me out?” you hum, beginning to slide your hips again, wetting his thigh with your slick.

“nope.” rafe smiles as you groan.

“please! i want you.” you whine, stroking faster, hoping it will entice him.

“and i want you too. i always want you, but this is my relaxing time. if you want anything, you gotta do it yourself.” 

you frown but continue your movements, determined to get rafe off. you consider dropping to your knees and sucking him, but then you'll be left with nothing to grind against.

the gentle hand placed on your hip tugs at your bikini strings, pulling it completely away as rafes hand rounds your body to grip your ass, but despite his fingers in your plump flesh, he gives you no assistance in moving.

“such a jerk.” you pout.

“oh come on, i fuck you real good every day, you can do the work for once.”

“im doing the work!” you stroke faster to prove your point.

“just complaining the whole time.” rafe laughs, the smile not falling from his face as he watches you, your tits bouncing in your bikini top with every movement.

“i love you.” rafe blurts out.

you smile as well, pausing to lean in and give him a big kiss. “i love you too, handsome.”

“and im gonna fuck you so good tonight. get me off baby.” rafe wraps a hand around the one one around his shaft, guiding you to continue moving as you let out soft moans, hips regaining their speed.

“if i bounce my leg and get you off, you'll let me cum on your ass?” rafe questions.

“yes!” you nod quickly.

rafe immediately begins to move, the hand on your ass assisting your grinding as he clenches his muscles and bounces his knee up and down until you're screaming out.

your orgasm washes over your body as your back arches, chest pressing into rafes face.

“fuck, wanna cum on your tits instead.” rafe pushes you off and onto your knees, tugging your top down to reveal your chest as his hand pushes yours off his cock.

you place your palms against his knees, chest heaving up and down from your high as he paints your skin in white.

rafe flops back against the lounge chair when he's finished, dick still out as you lean your head against his thigh, breathing heavily until you're able to use your legs enough to stand.

“wanna swim?” you question.

“skinny dip?” rafe raises his eyebrow, looking up and down your body.

you undo the string on your bikini so it falls away before jumping into the pool just a few steps away.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Theory of Gravity

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Making small talk can be difficult with a crush.

Word Count: 1234

Genre: Fluff Oneshot

Content: Drinking, reader being awkward because she has a crush, flirting

Contrary to popular belief, snitching on the whereabouts of a very dangerous mobster in the bar you worked in and possibly getting killed or maimed in the process was not a good plan for a Friday night but to be completely honest, you had done worse things over a silly little crush.

Like back in college freshman year when you pretended to be into music biopics just so that the hot guy in your elective would think you two were meant to be.

So if anything, this was a pattern.

“Logan?” you said as you put his drink in front of him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“What was Galileo like?”

He blinked a couple of times, the familiar scowl that seemed to be etched on his handsome face getting deeper and you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” he said. “I will lose all the belief I’ve never had in the first place in this country’s education system if you’re serious.”

You gave him a bright smile. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I figured it was better than asking how the public took it when Newton came up with the theory of gravity.”  

The look on his face couldn’t be described with anything but complete horror and you let out a laugh, then went to serve another customer before quickly making your way to him.

“I’m just messing with you,” you said, leaning against the bar as you stole a look at the mobster sitting by the table with his men, then to Wade who was very, very busy with Vanessa by the corner.

“You look nervous,” Logan pointed out, making your head whip up before you cleared your throat.

“Nah, not at all,” you said. “I’m just thinking that if I die tonight, I’ll die doing what I love.”

“Which is?”

Gazing at older men who couldn’t look less interested in me.

“Being surrounded by drunk people who want to give me money,” you said. “Not a bad way to go.”

He scoffed into his drink before taking a sip while you nibbled on your lip, shifting your weight.

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he said, his voice gruff. “We’re just waiting for his partner to show up, then we will deal with them both.”

You nodded your head. “Yeah. Sure, I know.”

“Do you?”

You nodded again, absentmindedly reaching out to play with the cocktail straw on the counter, painfully aware of his gaze on you that made your face burn.

“How’s grad school?”

…He remembered.

He remembered you saying that the last time he and Wade were here.

One simple observer would’ve thought he was on his knees proclaiming his undying love for you with the way your heartbeat went insane and his eyebrows rose as if he could hear it, but you quickly casted the thought away from your mind; that was surely impossible.

“Oh it’s going well!” you said, your voice going high-pitched for a moment. “Came for the hot professors, stayed for the education—I’m joking,” you added in a haste, waving a hand in the air. “I’m a very…very deep and intellectual individual.”

“Uh huh.”

“And none of my professors are hot,” you muttered and wiped at the damp spot on the counter with a napkin. “They should put that on the brochure if you ask me, it’s important information.”

“So you’ll be a doctor?”

“If by some miracle my dissertation goes through the jury,” you pointed out. “How about you? How’s your roommate situation with Wade going?”

He only grumbled something under his breath and you bit back a smile, then topped his drink.

“Thanks sweetheart.”

If there was one thing you hated the idea of more than dying was proving Freud right but it looked like you were going two for two tonight.

“So uh,” you said, trying to ignore the goosebumps rising on your arms because of his deep voice. “Hey, at least you have the place to yourself sometimes, no? When Wade is with Vanessa? Should give you some time to…bring someone home.”

And I volunteer as tribute.

He raised his brows, his unwavering gaze pinning you to your spot and you cleared your throat.

“Or—or someones,” you stammered. “Sky is the limit if you’re into that sort of thing. Now that it came up by the way, are…are you?”

“Am I bringing people home?” he asked as if he wanted to make sure that was what you were asking and you shrugged your shoulders, your face on fire.

“I’m just asking because, you know,” you began the sentence without having a clue on how you would finish it as usual. “I’m great at giving relationship advice, so if you were in a relationship I could be your own personal relationship coach.”

He pulled his brows together in confusion and you reached out to get the bowl full of peanut shells from his right just so that you could keep yourself busy, then turned the bowl over the garbage can.

“I’m not,” he said and you swallowed thickly.

“Who has the time for that these days, am I right?”

“Do you have—”

“Yes I have the time!” you cut him off, nodding your head in enthusiasm, your heart beating in your ears but he had already finished his sentence;

“…ice?”

You hoped to God tonight was the night you’d die because if that mobster in the corner didn’t shoot you, you were going to have to ask Wade to do it just to save you from this embarrassment.

“Oh,” you said after a beat as he stared at you. “Yeah—yeah I have ice, sorry.”

You rushed to get some ice and put it into his whiskey, biting inside your cheek and he cleared his throat.

“You don’t want to go out with me sweetheart.”

Well good news was that you had already made a fool of yourself so one could think the bar for your self-respect couldn’t get any lower, but boy oh boy you had already brought your metaphorical shovel.  

“I disagree,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I would very much love to if you were interested.”

“You think I’m not interested?”

“I feel like I’d have a better chance at proving you’re not interested with dates and references than my own thesis,” you pointed out. “And that’s saying something—”

“I am interested,” he cut you off, making your eyes widen and you gawked at him, frozen in your spot. “Trust me, that’s not the problem here.”

“Am I getting the I’m too dangerous for you speech?” you heard yourself ask through disbelief. “Because screw that speech. Honestly, the only thing I’m focused on in here is if you—fuck!”

He pulled his brows together. “If I—?”

“No no!” you said as you pointed at the back door where two men were dragging Wade through. “Wade!”

Logan cussed under his breath as he shot up from his stool.

“Don’t go anywhere, we’ll talk about this later,” he told you and made his way to the back door while you heaved a sigh, leaning back to the counter as he stepped outside and you caught the sight of him grabbing a man by the neck before the door slammed shut. You pressed a hand over your chest, then tilted your head back with a groan.

“Alright,” you muttered to yourself. “That was smooth.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

He's My Man (Part 1)

Summary: The reader receives an anonymous text from a new client needing an off the books patch job. However he's annoyingly good looking and the last thing you need is some ex-special ops guy hanging around. Unfortunately for you, Russell Shaw isn't the kind of guy to walk away when he knows something's wrong...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 2,000ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury

A/N: Contains minor spoilers for Tracker 1x12. Please enjoy the start of this new series! I'm not sure how long it will go but thanks for coming on this ride with me!

__________

Your ears perked up on Saturday morning when your phone buzzed on the coffee table before you. Not your everyday one but your one for work. You swiped it open, pursing your lips when you saw it was from an unknown number.

Need a patch job on a quilt. Doug recommended you as a good seamstress in the area.

Alright, well at least this guy knew one of your clients. Doug wasn’t a regular but you’d seen him once or twice over the years which meant the person on the other end wasn’t a cop most likely.

I can fit you in. More complicated the patch, the more it’ll cost.

Not an issue.

You hummed and stood up, grabbing your coffee mug along the way.

129 Edwards Ave in twenty minutes. Use the red back door.

You took a long sip and went over to the kitchen, tossing the rest down the sink, leaving the mug to be cleaned later. 

You just hoped this job wasn’t as bad as the last one.

Eighteen minutes later you heard the back door open and then silence, a moment’s hesitation as your new client entered what looked like a storage area. You flipped a light switch, illuminating the small enter sign over the doorway to the room you were prepping in. A few moments later there were heavy boots against the cement ground as he entered, turning to tile, your head lifting. 

A man in his forties, a quite handsome one at that, gave the small operating room a cursory glance before settling on you, determining you were the only one there. Meanwhile your gaze shot to his injured left arm, a gunshot from the looks of it. You only spotted one bloody bullet hole and figured that was the worst of it from the way he cradled his forearm.

“You the seamstress?” he asked quietly, scanning the counter full of medical equipment and metal table in the center of the room. 

“Take a seat,” you said, patting the table. You went to a sink and washed up, making sure to keep him in view at all times. He winced and struggled to get the coat off, finally managing and revealing a quick patch job had been done. After drying your hands, you snapped on some gloves, the man’s coat and overshirt now on the table behind him.

“Russell Shaw by the way,” he said.

“Y/N,” you said, carefully taking his forearm in one hand, the top of his muscular bicep in the other. You turned his arm slightly, Russell wincing again. “Looks like a through and through. We’ll do a quick x-ray to make sure there’s no shrapnel and then we’ll get you stitched up and I’ll send you home with some supplies and instructions to care for it. This your only injury?”

“Yeah. Doug said you were good.”

“I am,” you said, offering him a brief smile, he returned. “Do you have any PTSD? Going to come at me if I I need to use a scalpel?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I’m good with all that.”

You hummed, guiding him to lay back. Three minutes later you were pushing your x-ray machine aside and taking the lead vest away, Russell sitting upright. 

“Can I ask a question?” 

“You can ask, don’t mean I’ll answer, sweetie,” you said back, hanging up the vest and going to your laptop on the counter.

“How does one get into this line of work?” he asked.

“Asks the man that’s ex-special ops and does private contract gigs, not to mention killed probably three people minimum tonight.” You glanced over to him, Russell tilting his head. “I know who Doug is and what he does. Makes sense you do it too. You have blood under your fingernails and given the splatter patterns on your jeans, you had multiple different angled shots so multiple bodies you hit.”

“...And you don’t report that sort of thing?” he asked cautiously. You determined his x-ray looked good and washed up again, putting on more new gloves. By the time you were standing before him again, he looked nervous.

“On occasion. But only the monsters. You, you don’t strike me as a monster, Russell,” you said, wiping some antiseptic over his entry and exit wounds. He flinched but only slightly at the quick burn. A moment later you were giving him something to numb the area.

“Someone took Doug. Someone bad. They would have come back if I hadn’t done what needed to be done.” You wiped sterile gauze over his wound and then flushed it, Russell watching your graceful movements with interest.

“Like I said, not a monster.” You hummed as you worked, Russell fixated on you carefully cleaning and then pulling the skin back together, tying it up neatly. You wiped away the evidence of his blood and wrapped his bicep in thick gauze, taping it down so he could still get movement without worrying about it coming off.

You chucked your gloves in the trash and nodded back to the door behind you.

“There’s a shower in there and some brushes. Turn it on low, scrub yourself clean, under your nails too. Use the blue soap. When you’re done, throw everything away in the bin, including your bloody clothes. You leave your boots, anything you want to keep out here with me. There’s men’s sweats and some shirts on the shelf. By the time you’re done, your boots and other items will have no trace of wherever you’ve been. Got it?”

“I do like a woman that takes charge.” He smirked, sliding off the table and dropping slowly to kneel to unlace his shoes, still looking up at you. “Full service deal you got going here.”

“Yes it is and here’s a friendly reminder for my new client. You come anywhere near me with your dick out, I’ll make you regret being alive. Understand, sweetie?” you said, patting his cheek. “Off you go.”

“God damn, I love you,” he muttered under his breath. You rolled your eyes but smirked when your back was to him. Ten minutes later the room was clean and Russell exited the bathroom with damp, slicked back hair wearing a plain white t-shirt, black hanes sweat pants and white socks. You nodded to where his shoes sat on the end of the counter, Russell taking a seat in the chair nearby as he slipped them on.

After he checked he had his phone, keys and wallet, he raised himself to his feet, pulling out his wallet. 

“What do I owe you?”

“A thousand.” To your surprise, he didn’t flinch at that number. But like most of your clients, he didn’t have the cash on him, at least not that much. Russell smirked as he glanced back in the bathroom.

“Smart woman. You keep the evidence as ransom until your clients pay up. You won’t destroy that until after I pay, will you.” 

“Not until we get to know each other better do I do that sort of thing without payment. Seeing as you’re new and a friend of Doug’s, I’ll give you to the end of next week to pull it together. I offer payment plan options and other alternative forms of care if shit ever really hit the fan for you.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, putting down five hundred dollar bills. “I can bring the other half back here later today. Just need to run to an ATM.”

“Text me when you got the rest. I’ll send you a place to meet,” you said, nodding towards the door. He gave you a small salute and shook his head with a smile. 

Forty minutes later you were sitting at a table in the cafe three blocks over, happily sipping on your coffee while working your way through a cheese danish. You spotted Russell when he came in. He gave you a quick, adorably awkward wave and ordered himself a drink. A few minutes later he was sitting down across from you, a small cup and what appeared to be a banana muffin in hand.

“You’re a coffee snob aren’t you. This place is pricey,” he teased, his brow furrowing when he had a drink from his styrofoam cup. “Shit. That’s fucking good.”

“Beats whatever motel crap I’m sure you’re used to,” you said, his gaze hardening for a split second. “Sorry. I always tail my first time clients to make sure they aren’t…you know who. You know the Elkwood Lodge on route 8 is cleaner and cheaper than what you’re paying for now.”

“How would you know that?” he asked. You shrugged and simply grinned, taking another bite of danish. He licked his lips, pointing at the yet to be touched danish beside you. “Was that one for me?”

“God no. I fucking love danishes and these are incredible,” you said, finishing off the first and biting into the other.

“You are something else,” he said, smirking when he slid a white envelope across the table. You tucked it into your jacket pocket, Russell picking at his own muffin. “You ain’t going to check it’s all there?”

“You’re a smart man, Russell. I think you know not to screw me over.” He looked you up and down, earning a pointed response. “Keep that gutter mind to yourself.”

“If I’m in the gutter, you’re right there with me,” he said, absently rubbing his injured arm. “And uh, if it gets infected or I think it is, I should reach out?”

“Absolutely. That ain’t a normal injury you’re used to. Don’t play tough guy, tough guy.” He nodded, his body twisting ever so slightly towards a standing position. “Nope. Stay for at least five minutes, then you can go.”

“You really like telling me what to do, don’t you,” he grinned. 

“Russell.” Hss grin was wide before he took a long drag of coffee, humming as it went down. 

“What if I want to stay more than five minutes?” You paused mid-chew of your danish. “Come on, one conversation won’t kill you.”

“I don’t get involved with clients.”

“Alright. I respect that but this ain’t my end goal. I’m going to have a normal life someday. I make a pretty mean homebrew. Going to get some land, open up a brewery, have some food, make it a little family place everybody can enjoy. So that’s my goal. I sure as hell know working as a seamstress ain’t your end goal either. So again, what’s the harm in one conversation?”

You bit your bottom lip, Russell’s expression changing, ever so slightly. 

“Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered. “What-“

“Shut up,” you mumbled. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your fucking face did. You don’t want to be a seamstress, do you? Can you not get out of your line of work?” You glanced out the window, even the wonderful flavors of the pastry doing nothing to help the unease in your gut. “I can help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” you snapped. You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Sorry. I…I’m just crabby because I didn’t have my morning coffee until just now.”

“Nice try.” You glared at him, his green eyes remarkably gentle. “I don’t leave my friends behind. Now either you tell me what’s going on or I’m going to poke around myself and I guarantee that’s going to be a lot more dangerous and you’ll just have to patch me up even more. What do you say?”

You stared at him and stared at him and stared at him for what felt like forever. Then you took out the envelope and handed it back to him, along with the five hundred in your purse. 

“Go buy me two more cheese danishes and a large caramel frappe to go. Then take me to your motel room. This is a long fucking story.”

__________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[andersonfilms]

❝ LONG NIGHT, LONG RIDE ❞ ✶ ABBY ANDERSON !

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, nsfw themes, country!abby, petname usage (sweetheart, darling), mechanical bullrider!abby, abby is a big ass flirt, kinda shy!reader, dub-con (alcohol involved). 

RAY RAMBLES ★ idk a random thought and i kinda ran with it. if you like, i have a part in mind with smut for my slutty friends. to be continued ...

you’ve never seen a woman move like she did. it wasn’t the first time you’d seen her there. nestled deep in the heart of texas, tattered-blue denim jeans hugging her thick thighs deliciously, white tank top accentuating her toned abdomen. worn-in brown boots on her feet, blonde hair as carefree as she appeared, hips in sync with the mechanic bull as her skillful hips ride as the operator strategically tries to rid her off of it. s’not an easy task by any means. 

she has the face you can’t quite seem to forget. you never really do. it’s become a ritual of yours. every friday night, you end up in this rundown bar, the only one in this nothing town. maybe it’s pathetic to pine over someone so clearly out of your league. but she’s easy on the eyes, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. surely, it wouldn’t hurt to just look. 

the girl of your dreams is riding the bull again, and looking goddamn hot doing it. possibly even hotter than this texas heat in the beginning of summer’s warmth. someone as muscular, toned, and broad as her shouldn’t be doing it so gracefully. it’s been a month of watching her. every friday night you nurse the ice bear, condensation dripping down to your fingertips, soaking your wrists as the liquid drips further. 

she’s making quite the show of it tonight. anderson, ever the performer. 

the only name you’ve heard being used, quite loose lips of the small town groupies. apparently, anderson, is the talk of the town and tonight the girls next to you at the bar are as chatty as ever. you only pick up remnants. bits and pieces of their drunken gossip. 

she broke up with her girlfriend. been two months actually according to nora. time to make a move. 

anderson wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole. 

whatever. i’m going to make sure she’s riding me tonight. you’ll see. 

you force yourself to disengage the eavesdropping and look away from the scene of her riding the bull. you’ve seen her do it so many times you know it’ll be over soon. it’s pathetic how you know that in the first place. 

you’ll leave soon, the commitment of work bright and early looks over your intoxicated brain. but then you hear loud boots stomping their way to you. looking over you notice it’s her and she makes conversation with the bartender as she sips on the chilled bottle of beer. 

“seen you here every friday for the best month, darling. do you like the show?” anderson chuckles as her body inches forward. her thumb picking at label on her beverage.

she’s noticed you before? 

“mhm, not sure. still trying to figure out if i do.” 

she nods smoothly, amping you nerves as she scoots the bar stool closer to yours, before taking a seat. meaty, strong, legs opened wide as they rest on each side, supporting the weight of her built frame.

“hm.” she hums, watching as you take another swing of your beer. 

she opens her mouth, more of her southern drawl seeping out but the girls from before manage to squeeze through the small space between you and the mysteriously hot woman who occupies your brain. 

“anderson, you look really good tonight.” the girl from before resurfaces, her sultry tone sharp enough to cut through the entire room, her hands making connection with her toned, freckled bicep descending down her forearm. you make yourself scarce to the bathroom, not enjoying the sudden storm in your stomach. 

it’s just there. 

jealousy storming it before you could even stop it. it’s clear anderson is more than sought after. she’s everyone’s dream, yourself included. you’ve had one short lived conversation. maybe she’s an asshole, a cheater, an ego the size of this massive state.

it’s what you told yourself as you washed your hands in the washroom. it’s the only thing you could tell yourself. the hint of rejection was even more unsettling so you decided to pay your tab and get the hell out of here. 

the vibrator tucked in your nightstand drawer had never done you wrong. why break a good thing? right? god, there’s never been a more pathetic moment on earth. you and your wand against the world of scorned loneliness. but then she’s in there with you. you’re frozen, unable to move as walks in. confidently, resting her broad back against the wooden door. the single use bathroom does not give you much room to breathe. 

anderson crosses her arms, muscles flexing as her arms visibly look bigger, as if they weren’t already delicious enough. she looks down as you’re slightly bent over the short sink, suddenly taking interest in your ass. 

well, it seems sudden to you. 

“you really didn’t have to run off.” she tuts, as you find her frame in the mirror. you swear she bucks her hips slightly but you must be imagining it. taking note of her golden locks flowing past her sculpted shoulders, brown stetson hat concealing her eyes from you, for the most part.

“i don’t know. you seem pretty preoccupied. didn’t wanna put a damper on your night.” once you were done rinsing your hands, you turned around, arms placed at your side. every single bone of your body incredibly nervous to speak with her. especially to be alone together.

“besides, it seems like you have a lot of fans mesmerized by you, anderson. everyone seems to talk about you.” 

“maybe? but i wanna talk to you, darling.” pushing off the door, anderson inches herself closer towards you.

“would this be something you want? my attention?” raising her head, tilting it to the side as she awaits your response. 

“you’re… forward.” you grasp at straws, trying to find the right words but nothing seems right. 

“jus’ know what i want when i see it.” anderson admits. you’re not sure what to think. the sinfully hot woman, everyone’s vying for her attention, and she’s decided to extend her interest in you. why? you’re not sure. “what?” 

“i-i just don’t know what to say to you, anderson.” she smirks, the sly smile of hers on display. “anderson, huh?” 

“isn’t that your name?” you perch yourself onto the sink. clearly, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. “sort of. it’s what everyone here knows at least. but you should call me by my name. my real one.” 

you’re honored with a privilege, a simple one, just for you. it’s intoxicating how special she can make you feel. your heart beating out of your chest the more she takes. affecting all and any rational thought occupying your brain. it’s just her. 

“abigail, but you can call me abby. abs.” she takes a few steps forward inching closer to the space between your open thighs.

“whatever you want, really. as long as these pretty lips are talking to me. hm? how does that sound to you?” 

you visibly gulp as  she inches closer and closer…

“uh, um, abigail’s pretty.” she’s got you now. utterly fucking trapped. 

abby chuckles. if she wasn’t this hot, it would be downright condescending. “mmm, think i’m pretty, sweetheart?” she’s so sure of what she wants, eyes set on you and it’s s’much to handle. the trap’s been set and you’re falling into her southern charm far easier than you would have if it were anyone else.

you barely nod your head, shyly biting your lip. finally, giving her something to work with. abby’s thinking about devouring you whole, eating you right up, bringing you home with her, pulling you into her bedroom, tearing you apart in every way she knows how. 

the light shining in your eyes makes her think you’d let her. 

“y-yeah, i do.” abby makes home between your thighs, standing at her full height, stammering six feet tall. firmly grabbing your legs before wrapping them around her torso. “bet you do, sweetheart. i’m sure you think about all sorts of things, especially about me.” 

your breath hitches as abby removes her hat, shaking her blonde hair to the side, sunkissed skin even more exquisite up close. freckled cheeks, the adorable bump in her nose, her nipples hard and now poking through the tank top, chest nearly against yours as she wedges herself impossibly close to you. perfectly shaped lips moving closer to yours. 

“why don’t you tell me what you think about when i’m riding the bull? when my hips roll, my head tossed back, and my back arched. be a sweetheart and tell me, darling.” her hat is placed in free hand while the other softly grips your chin, thumb smoothing over the soft skin.

“be real good and tell me.” 

you pause for a moment, doing your best not to fumble over your words, just this once. 

“most of the time, i can’t stop looking at your hips. how in control you look, so confident and my mind just…drifts.” you linger, eyes meeting her baby blues and fuck. fuck. fuck. 

you’ve never been so doomed to fall. 

“darling, don’t leave me hanging. what does it drift to?” abby asks, dipping her lips to your neck, ghosting over the access point, until she lightly kisses at your collarbones. so light, it makes you question if this is just some cruel, fever dream you’ll wake up from.

“shit.” abby takes it as a sign to continue her lips dip into your chest, hardly divulging to where you need her, before she’s ascending back up to your neck. “you gonna be good for me?” she whispers in your ear, her breath calm and even. 

you nod and abby bites your ear playfully as you moan, pulling her in by your legs. “hm, if i keep whispering pretty little things in your ear? can you handle me, sweetheart?” her southern accent further cementing you in her honey grip. 

“maybe? i don’t know. fuck, yes?” abby giggles, her voice dropping an octave as she goes in for the kill. “oh sweetheart. i might just kill this pussy of yours with what i have to say next.” on instinct, your hands tangle themselves into the root of her blonde hair, tugging her closer to you. wanting to suffocate her in your scent, but she’s already halfway there. 

“abigail, just say it. please?” she nods, loving how you’re already using your manners. fuck, so good for her already, not even having to ask twice. abby feels the heartbeat of her clit stirring in her pants as it chases the sound of your voice. she’s so feral, already. yeah, you may feel like a goner but if only you knew she is by far so much worse. 

“i noticed you the first night. those pretty fucking eyes staring at me. wouldn’t fucking leave me for anything, even when the bartender was trying to get your attention. those bambi eyes on me, bright eyed and practically begging for me….” abby’s purposely whines in your ear, causing you to grind into her. she can’t stop the chuckle leaving her lips. 

“you’re being mean. just tell me.” abby pauses as she grins like the cheshire cat. you tug her hair back tightly, the moan she emits is loud. her eyes nearly roll back into her head, but she’s able to stop it before it goes too far. before you push her to the subspace she can so easily get to when push comes to shove. for now, she’ll bask in the dominance. 

all of it so new, so fresh. “oh, i’m being mean?” abby threatens cockily. “i have  been awfully mean, huh? letting those pretty girls flirt with me right in front of you.” she kisses lightly underneath your ear before continuing.

“been thinking about you the last couple of weeks when i’m riding.” abby teases.

“you do?” your jaw slacks, your grip on abby’s head releases. “sure have, darling. m’thinking about how you want to ride me instead. pretty thighs rubbing together when you’d look my way.” abby’s hand drops to your thigh, rubbing your inner thighs with her thumb. basking in how you open them even wider, unprompted. just a small mention and you’re right back to her riding the bull. whimpered out for her, needing her to do anything, something. 

“why don’t we get out of here and you can come home with me?” she pleads, pressing a kiss to your temple. sweet and sultry with half-lidded eyes looking at you. your eyes looking at the hat in her hands. 

you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” shyly, scratching the nape of your neck. 

“are you going to put your hat back on?” 

“mhm, not sure.” abby bites the inside of her cheek, anxious as the next thought plagues her mind. you won’t know what a big deal it is, but everyone in the bar will know. she will know, but you won’t and somehow it makes it easier when the request flies off her lips. 

“you could wear it? if you want, sweetheart.” abby asks sweetly. you’re quiet for a moment, pondering. “who knows. might be too big or too small.” you shrug your shoulders as if you’re not interested. 

“well, why don’t we try then, sweetheart? won’t know until you do.” she maneuvers the white cowboy hat, placing it carefully in your head. 

you smile happily at her. “look! a perfect fit.” 

abby knows there’s not a damn soul who looks better than you. “yeah, sure is perfect.”

DAILY CLICK + DONT BUY TLOU + DONATE

[mypoisonedvine]

𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 | raymond leon x reader

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 | since you've managed to outsmart (or, more accurately, seduce) your last four bodyguards, your wealthy father decides it's time to take a new approach: hire a timekeeper to watch you. after all, a man who dedicates his life to the law can withstand the wiles of a spoiled, lonely girl... right?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 | 4.7k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 | dubcon smut (rough sex, daddy kink, choking, slapping, creampie, breeding kink, glove kink, degradation), age gap (raymond is ????, reader is early 20s), slight dd/lg undertones, reader is a bit dark and manipulative hehe

You were rolling your stockings up your legs, one of the final stages in dressing for the party tonight, when your bedroom door opened.  “Hey, Ray,” you greeted with a purr as he stepped inside.

“Officer Leon,” he corrected you.

“Right,” you smiled, tilting your head.  “I’m sorry, sir.  I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

He scoffed, looking away, and you bit your lip— he was getting frustrated, in more than one sense of the word, and you were going to get what you wanted (like always). Boys are simply too easy.

This whole cat-and-mouse thing was starting to drive you a little crazy— none of the other bodyguards had taken this long to crack.  But really, the anticipation just added to the fun.

You stood up and turned your back to him, hoping he was eyeing the V-shaped portion of your back he could see with your gown still open.

“Will you help me zip up my dress?” you asked sweetly, making sure your hair was out of the way and looking back over your shoulder at him sweetly.  He sighed but stepped closer to you, but tugging on the zipper only lifted the bottom of your dress a bit— so he had to put his other hand on your hip to hold it in place as he pulled the zipper up, and you were thankful he couldn’t see your eyes flutter shut at the feeling.  His hands were so strong, you could feel it even through the gloves— and those fucking gloves, shiny black leather, he knew damn well what he was doing to you.  He just didn't seem to care.

"There," he said when he'd tugged it up to the top, stepping back, and you turned around to face him.  The dress was more elegant than you usually went for: you traded in your lace and bows in pastel shades for a dark purple silk that fell to the floor.

"What do you think?" you asked, biting your lip.  "Daddy picked it out for me."

"He has expensive taste," Raymond noticed, though he conspicuously didn't comment on your appearance.  He was very uptight, especially about professionalism.  You sort of got the feeling that if you could just pull one of his strings hard enough, he'd totally unravel: which is why you kept trying.

As he tried not to look at you, you gave him a slow look up and down.  "Is that what you're wearing tonight?" you asked incredulously, pointing to his high-neck black sweater and long leather trench.

"I'm working tonight, so yes," he answered.

Everyone thought Raymond stuck out like a sore thumb in your room— his angular, dark form against the soft baby pinks and white laces around your bed, a hardened cop amongst the porcelain baby dolls and fluffy stuffed animals and gold-edged tea sets: but you thought he fit right in, standing there amongst all your playthings.

~

The party was a bit dull— you were having more fun toying with your bodyguard than anything else.  “Try this,” you’d insist as you held up an hors d'oeuvre to feed him; he had to give in, he had to do whatever you said in front of all these people, but he glared at you as he leaned forward and took a bite out of the mini-tart.

You bragged to your father’s guests about your new bodyguard— or toy, as you called him more often.  “Daddy bought him for me,” you’d say, “and he has to do whatever I want.  Show them your gun, Mr. Leon!”

He only looked at you sternly again, and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s sort of grouchy,” you explained to the amused dinner attendees.  He didn’t react much, still standing there with his gloved hands held in front of him, but you saw a little tightness in his jaw.

Best of all, you flirted with as many suitors as you could get away with in a night, just to bother him.  The tricky thing about a world without aging is men who’ve been around quite some time were still just as eligible for your hand as men closer to your age— you wondered if it would bother him more knowing that one of your father’s wealthy friends who had been alive at least 80 years was doting on you.  Didn’t matter either way: you let them all stand a bit too close, put their hand on your lower back— you laughed too hard at their shitty jokes.  All to make Ray jealous, but when you glanced over your shoulder at him, you could never catch a reaction.

After the guests had left and the staff had begun cleaning, you went back to your room to change.  You’d coyly asked Raymond if he would watch over you during that, too, but he didn’t answer because he knew you were joking.  It’s not like you were ever really serious… but you did want him.  Not just for fun, and not just to prove to your father that there was no use hiring these bodyguards— he was fucking sexy, obviously.  Definitely your favorite so far, and exactly your type… for how much he thought you were trying to tease and tempt him, he was the one driving you a little crazy.

Still, you kept your cool as best you could; you needed to keep control over him, and thankfully with him working for you, that was pretty easy to exert.  (Well, technically he worked for your father, but it was close enough.)

“Oh, Mister Officer,” you called out to him through the door as you sat on your bed, hearing him step closer.

“Yes?” he asked, voice slightly muffled.

“I just need your help with something,” you explained, but he still hesitated.

“Are you decent?”

Damn, he wasn’t that gullible anymore.  “Enough,” you replied, and he sighed before opening your bedroom door.

You were in your bra and panties now— but with your heels and stockings still on, of course; he lost track of his step for a second when he saw you, then frowned at you.  “That’s not what I would consider decent,” he said.

“Well, I need your help and I wasn’t going to put on a turtleneck just for that,” you replied.  “You’ve seen me in my bikini by the pool, anyways…”

And you’d made him apply sunscreen on your back as well; you smirked to yourself at the memory.  “What do you need my help with?” he reminded you of the original topic.

“Well, these shoes are too small for me now,” you said, “I didn’t realize how much I’d grown since I wore them last…”

You hoped he’d find that a little intriguing, as someone who himself hadn’t grown in… you didn’t even know how long.  He obviously never talked about it— for all you knew he could have been alive a hundred years, though he certainly didn’t act like it.  

You lifted a stiletto-clad foot forward towards him.  “Now they’re stuck.  Will you help me take them off?”

He sighed that trademark, frustrated sigh of his, and you fought off a smile.  “You can’t do that yourself?” 

You shook your head.  “I’m not strong enough,” you explained with a shrug.

Clearly not buying it but in no position to accuse you of lying, he knelt down in front of you.  Taking the shoe in his hand, he looked at you with annoyance in his eyes as it slipped off easily.  

“You’re so strong,” you cooed, wiggling your toes inside the pantyhose, then putting your foot down to hold out the other in front of him.  “Now the other one,” you demanded.

He took the shoe off of you, tossing it aside, and you let your foot brush against his thigh as you lowered it down— just long enough to make it not quite believable as an accident.

“Now my stockings,” you continued, and he got up and started to walk away.

“You’ll have to do the rest on your own,” he insisted.

“But who’s gonna help me undress?” you pouted, and he stopped walking halfway to the door, dropping his shoulders a bit.

“I don’t know, how about you ask one of those boys that was sniffing around you all night?” he suggested, and you smiled proudly.  Oh, you noticed that?  

“I can’t,” you sighed, “you know Daddy doesn’t let me have any boys in my room— except you.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “because I’m the one who keeps the boys out of your room.”

“It’s no fair,” you whined.  “It’s so boring up here by myself…”

“Please,” he groaned, finally turning around, “with all these things you have?  You shouldn’t have any trouble being entertained.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, “I shouldn’t— but I do.  There’s only one thing I really wanna do right now…”

You started to slowly and delicately run your fingers up your legs, spreading them a bit.

“But I don’t wanna have to do it alone…” you continued, blinking up at him as you saw his nostril twitch— could this finally be the moment you caught him?

In an instant, he stormed towards you and grabbed you by the neck.  “So fucking spoiled,” he growled, his black leather gloves crinkling softly as you whimpered and held his wrist.  “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?  You think your father didn’t tell me what happened to the last four bodyguards?”

“I— I didn’t fuck them all,” you defended, voice a little thin from the pressure on your throat, “the third quit on his own—”

“Because he knew what would happen if he gave in to you,” Raymond sneered.  “And so do I.  You think I’ll give up on a job like this that easily?”

That was one thing that made Ray different than the others before— they were all professional bodyguards, used to working for the elite class.  Most of them probably already had plenty of time, or could at least keep getting jobs of this caliber to earn a similar keep.  But Timekeepers weren’t especially well compensated, paid daily but only paid just enough to keep going until the next per diem.  He’d probably never had more than a couple days on his clock, and now he was earning a month a week just to babysit you.  That was why your father hired him for this, you finally realized: he’d said before that he simply hoped a lawman would have a little more integrity and not give in to temptation with you, but it was far more than just that.

Raymond let go of your neck and tossed you back onto the bed, but just when you hoped he’d climb on top of you and pin you down, he scoffed and turned away.  “You’re too young, anyways,” he said as he crossed his arms.

“Am not,” you denied.

“Your clock hasn’t even started yet,” he noticed.

“I’ve only got a few more years left,” you frowned, “but I’m still an adult.”

“Then fucking act like one,” he suggested sharply, and left the room with slam of your door.

You sighed, once again left frustrated with another unsuccessful attempt to get him into bed.  But, you smiled, too; because you knew this was a step in the right direction.

~

Your father tried not to travel much, since it was one of the few things that exposed him to the risk of death.  Wouldn't it be absurdly ironic, dying in a plane crash after living for hundreds of years and with nearly a millennium left on his clock?

Still, he didn't get all these years by sitting around in his house, he was a busy professional.  And his work sometimes required him to leave for as long as a few weeks.

He had you come and see him off at the hangar, Officer Leon not far behind as you kissed your father on the cheek and bid him safe travels.  

You loved when he left, it gave you a lot more freedom.  But Raymond didn't know that, he just knew you were a billionaire's youngest daughter left alone in a massive mansion, and you'd already had planned for weeks how you could use that to your advantage.

You knew he was outside your door, you could see the shadow of his boots through the crack between the wood and the plush rug.  Fighting off a little smile, you whimpered softly— but not too soft, he needed to hear it.  The first one didn't seem to work, so you dropped your head and did it again.

He swung open the door a second later, and though he seemed relieved to find you alone and not being kidnapped or something, he still had to ask: "Are you alright?"

You sniffled and wiped at your eye, acting like you were trying to hide your tears as if it all wasn’t a performance in the first place.  “Daddy’s gone away,” you pouted, “and left me all by myself… m’so lonely, Mr. Leon.”

“Officer,” he corrected, but his voice faltered when you looked up at him with big, needy eyes.

“I don’t wanna be all alone,” you whimpered, “I need somebody to take care of me… protect me…”

You rubbed your thighs together as you sat on the bed, toying with the lacy hem of your nightgown.

“Somebody big and strong,” you continued as he crossed his arms, “like you.”

His stare was icier than ever, yet those eyes still could’ve melted you if you let them.

“Will you be my new daddy while he’s gone?” you asked sweetly, biting your lip, and he tensed his jaw as he looked away.

“What do you get out of toying with me?” he asked sharply.

“Fucked, hopefully,” you smiled.  

“You know, I’ve known a lot of women,” he informed you; you had no idea where he was going with this, but you liked how it started.  “Rich, poor— prostitutes, politicians— young, or just young-looking.  But I don’t think I’ve ever met such a brainless, insatiable little whore as you.”

You stood up from the bed, stepping closer to him carefully.  “Really?” you smiled, taking it as a compliment, and that only angered him further.

“What is it that makes you think you can get whatever you want?” he wondered, his blue eyes like daggers as he glared at you. 

“Experience,” you shrugged, reaching up to trace a finger over his lapel, but he batted it away harshly.  “Ooh,” you breathed, “you’re a mean daddy, hm?  The type that believes in lots of discipline?”

He didn’t respond, even when you stepped so close that your body was nearly touching his.

“I can be a good girl,” you promised sweetly, “for you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he snapped.

“Let me prove it, daddy,” you purred, “just give me a chance…”

You leaned in, wondering if he’d let you kiss him— he hadn’t backed away, but he hadn’t relaxed out of his bodyguard posture, either.

“Just make me yours,” you pleaded under your breath, lips nearly brushing against his.

Before you even realized he’d given in, he slammed you back against the wall with a hand around your neck, the other instantly grabbing you between the legs, and you mewled joyfully.  “Fuck,” he snarled, like he was just as frustrated with himself as with you; his gloved hand roughly navigated up under your nightgown and into your panties.  

Two leather-covered fingers slid inside you, and you arched your back up off the wall.  

“Needy whore,” he grunted as he shoved his fingers deeper into you, making you whimper as your knees almost buckled.  “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes, daddy,” you moaned happily, though he slapped you across the face hard with his other hand right after you said it, and you yelped as you clutched your cheek.

“I’m not your fucking daddy,” he spat at you.  “Such a goddamn brat— if I was your daddy, you’d have some fucking manners.”

“Teach me,” you begged, “fuck, please— I need to learn.  Teach me right now.”

He let go of you, and pulled his fingers out of you, and stepped back slightly as he shed the gloves and his long coat.  “Get on your fucking knees,” he growled, watching you slide along the wall onto the floor.  

You didn’t need to be told what to do after that, you simply smiled as you reached up to rub the bulge in his pants.  Unbuckling his belt for him, you had to catch your breath when you realized how big he was.  

He smirked when you whimpered slightly while taking it out, stroking him as he got harder in your grip.  “More than you bargained for?” he wondered smugly.

“Nothing a brainless, insatiable little whore can’t handle,” you promised just before leaning forward and taking him into your mouth.  He gasped a little before humming in satisfaction, and you suckled as you swirled your tongue around his head, fitting what you could in your mouth and trying to coat the skin with your spit.

His hand suddenly held onto your hair when you started to bob your head, and he groaned when you choked slightly on the tip of him.  “Fuck,” he whispered, “yeah— like that, baby…”

You moaned around him, not just for show but a reaction to the satisfying weight of him on your tongue— and the slightly salty taste of leaking precum.  Your fingers brushed gently over his balls as you blinked up at him: you were pulling out all the stops, you wanted him to lose his mind over you even more than he already had.

He pushed your hair back, tilting your head further to meet your gaze.  You thought he might speak when he opened his mouth, but you gagged on him again and he just sighed.

Your hand wrapped around the rest of his length that you couldn't reach with your lips, stroking him in time with the way you bobbed your head; and your other hand couldn't help but reach down between your bent legs, pressing against your core— bare, as you'd already thought ahead and forgone panties— and making you hum at the smallest hint of friction.

You were just starting to set a rhythm with it, the bobbing of your head and the stroking of your hand and the way you swirled your tongue… but of course he had to throw you off and shove your head down, making you choke again unexpectedly, as he groaned at the feeling.  “S’what you wanted,” he reminded you, starting to roughly fuck your mouth.  “What you fucking wanted, right, little whore?”

You could only barely nod with him holding your head, and your clit throbbed just from the way he looked down at you with his teeth bared.

“Fuck, just need a cock to choke on,” he growled.  “Only way to shut you up, huh?”

He gave your throat a few more aggressive thrusts before pulling back, and you coughed and wiped your chin as you looked up at him.  “It’s not all I wanted,” you reminded him when you caught your breath, and he smiled at you in a condescending sort of way.

“Right,” he recalled, tilting his head, “you wanted to be fucked.  Poor thing.”

“Please, daddy?” you batted your eyelashes up at him, and he just laughed thinly.

“Nothing’s stopping you, princess,” he replied, holding his hands out, as if to suggest you come and take it.  You couldn’t resist an offer like that.

Standing up and grinning at him, you pushed him back by the shoulders and down onto the bed, straddling his lap.

He smirked up at you; “Really need it that bad, huh?” he mocked as you pulled your nightgown up over your head and tossed it aside quickly.

“Uh huh,” you agreed with a nod, “need you so bad— you’ll let me ride your big cock, right, daddy?  Please?”

But you were already lining him up to your entrance and sinking down, and you both groaned loudly as he filled you.  “God, it’s so wet,” he hissed, watching you gasp as you lowered yourself further.  “You get that wet just from sucking cock?  Fuckin’ slut.”

Your eyes rolled back as the tip of his cock pressed further than you thought possible.  “Fuck, daddy,” you moaned, “you’re so deep…”

“Yeah,” he panted in agreement, “can’t believe that little pussy’s taking all of me…”

You started to grind on him right away, holding onto his shoulders as you rocked your hips desperately.  “Oh my god, oh my god,” you chanted, “it’s s-so good, it feels so good—”

He bit his lip as he watched you, and you loved how it felt to have those steely eyes looking up and down your body as you moved.

You'd been sort of on edge the whole time, sucking him off and all— not to mention that the foreplay with you and Raymond had started, in your mind, months ago when he was first hired.  The satisfaction of finally having him exactly where you wanted him was nearly as good as the physical sensation… but it did feel incredible, the curve of his cock rubbing up against your spot with so much pressure that you shuddered all over.

His hands ran over your body, the strength of them more than apparent even when he was touching you somewhat delicately, and you moaned as his rough fingers punched your nipples.

You shifted from grinding down on him to properly bouncing up and down, arching your back to get the perfect angle as you both groaned.  "Fucking tight," he mumbled his praise.

You held on tighter to his shirt, really wishing you could see him without it, but there was something hot about him still being in his uniform… especially when you were totally naked.  It probably made him think he had more power over you, which was exactly what you wanted him to think.

Moving faster, you felt the pressure building inside you already, pulsing and swelling as you let your head drop forward to look down at him looking jus perfect underneath you.

He grabbed you by the neck, only to be unexpectedly sweet and pull you down into a kiss— but it was still a hungry, dominating kiss, one that made you whine and tense up inside as he tasted all over your tongue and mouth.  And he didn’t let go of your neck, either, in fact he tightened his grip just enough to make you choke out a raspy moan against his lips, which you felt smirk a moment later.  

“So good, daddy,” you mumbled into the last moments of the kiss.  His hands moved down to your body, following your movements, and you pulled back enough to look at his face closely.  “You’re so fucking good, daddy,” you praised again.

He groaned and held your waist tighter, making you hum and smile.  "Little slut," he scolded through his teeth as you moved faster.  “Show daddy how you make yourself come.”

You beamed as he really accepted the title for the first time.  Sitting up higher and bouncing faster, you moaned loudly as you chased your high: shocks of sensation hit inside you, faster and faster the longer you continued.

You grabbed his hands off your hips and pinned them down beside his head, riding him harder while he smirked up at you.  "So desperate," he cooed— but you could hear in his voice that he was close, too.

Whimpering at the feeling, you felt your walls bearing down on him as it nearly hit you— it was sort of difficult to come like this, since you could only move so fast, but the way it was drawn out just made you sure it would build up even stronger and hit you harder.

“Fuck, get off,” he warned, “gonna come.”

You grinned, biting your lip, and kept grinding your hips.

“Get up,” he demanded, but you just tightened your grip on his wrists.  “Fuck, are you—?”

“Shh, m’close,” you scolded, feeling him try to struggle under you— but he was flexing inside you, too, and you knew he couldn’t hold back forever.  He was obviously more than strong enough to fight you off if he really wanted, but it wasn’t about your body overpowering his— it was about you forcing him to give in to his instincts… to temptation.

“I swear to fucking god,” he groaned through his teeth, “if you don’t fucking get off me right now—”

“I’m coming, daddy!” you announced suddenly as you bounced on him even more fervently.  “Oh my god, daddy, m’coming on your big cock!  Yes!”

It felt great, don’t get me wrong, but you were definitely playing it up and giving him a real show as you tossed your head back, screamed out his name, dug your nails into his wrists— you wanted him to be totally helpless to you for just that moment.  “Fuck!” he groaned, and you laughed excitedly as his cock pulsed inside you, heat flooding between your legs and his head falling back onto the mattress with the most gorgeous fucked-out look on his face.  

“Oh fuck, come in me, daddy,” you demanded, rocking your hips and squeezing him tight for every drop, “wanna be so fucking full—”

He groaned through his teeth as it all started to die down a bit, scrunching his face up for a second before relaxing under you again; you felt his cock pump just a few more times, weaker than before, and you hummed proudly.

“God— oh my god—” he panted out, opening his eyes wide as he started to catch his breath, looking at you like you were crazy.  You just laughed and bit your lip as you finally stopped moving.  “What the fuck did you just do?” he snapped, but he still whimpered a bit when you deliberately clenched your walls around him.

“Sorry,” you shrugged, “I just really needed some come inside me— been really in the mood to get bred lately—”

You giggled as he grabbed you and threw you down onto the bed, turning you both over as he held your arms tight and pulled out— he blinked quickly, his lips slack and still a little stained from your pink gloss, as he watched his come leak out of your pussy.  “Fuck,” he snarled, clearly trying to use his anger and panic to hide how much it turned him on.  “Are you fucking kidding me?  Do you realize what fucking happens if you get—?”

“Pregnant?” you finished for him, licking your lips excitedly.  “Doesn’t it sound so hot though?  You knocking me up, getting me all nice and full with your baby, ‘cause I’m so young and fertile— and then you can be a real daddy—”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he spat, sitting back at little on the bed and running his hands over his face in dismay.  “You’re— oh god— I can’t believe this is happening—”

“Calm down, grumpypants,” you scolded with a smile as you sat up and looked at him closer.  “I’m on the pill, haven’t missed one in years.”

Ray’s terrified expression fell into relief and frustration simultaneously.  “Fucking— you could’ve told me that before,” he frowned, dropping his hands to his sides.

“But then I would’ve missed out on your little meltdown,” you laughed proudly.  “You looked cute like that, panicking and thinking you really got me pregnant.”

He watched you get up out of the bed and snag your silk robe from off of a hook on the wall, slipping it on as you walked to the bathroom.  You looked over your shoulder at him as you turned the door’s golden handle, smirking when you saw the dumbfounded look on his face.

“I think I could use a bath,” you explained, “care to join me, big boy?”

The look on his face was that sort of incredulous denial— like he couldn’t believe that you’d ask him that, expecting him to ever want to be near you again after pulling that stunt.  “Are you serious?!” he choked.

“Of course,” you laughed, “I’m not in a joking mood anymore.  Are you coming or not?”

He laughed in bewilderment and looked around for a moment, before sighing in relent.  “Yeah, I am,” he admitted, sliding off the bed to come join you.  You smirked to yourself; these boys are simply too easy.

[evie-sturns]

Bonfire - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you and chris have been as close as anything for years, until one night where chris, you and your friend group have a beach bonfire, resulting in you and chris disappearing together..

contains: smut, sneaking off with chris, semi-public sex, swearing.

-----------------------..••°°°°••..--------------------—-

chris and i have been close since the start of highschool, he introduced me to his brothers, nick and matt, who i've also befriended over the past few years. tonight our whole extended friend group are meeting up on the beach for a bonfire for madis birthday.

6:39pm

i pull up my low rise denim shorts, fixing my hair in the mirror as chris watches from behind me. "chris, i think my bikini is loose, can you tighten it for me?" i ask, spinning around to look at him.

chris clears his throat, "yeah, sure." he says, walking across my bedroom to me and spinning me around. i feel his cold fingers untie my bikini top as i hold the straps.

he gently brushes my back as he tightens the top into a double-knot. "tight enough?" chris asks, i spin around a flash him a smile, "thanks!" i chirp.

"can you guys hurry the fuck up." matt groans, he's apparently 'despises' being our uber driver.

"hey mr sunshine!" i say with a sarcastic grin painted across my face as i open my bedroom door, matt just scoffs with a small laugh, hes got his car keys in his hands.

-

i jump into the backseat of matts mini van, nick gets in the passenger seat and chris jumps in beside me, our legs touching.

the ride to the beach is.. entertaining? matt and nick have been having a deathly argument ever since we pulled out of our driveway, and i don't think they even know what theyre arguing about now.

matt reaches behind and slaps chris's thigh,

"the fuck did i do!!" chris laughs in shock, "breathing so loud, you sound like your battling your fucking demons back there." matt mumbles as he parallel parks into a spot.

chris taps my inner thigh with 2 fingers, "ready to go?" he asks i nod shyly, my mouth open slightly. chris climbs out of the backseat, i follow close behind, stepping out on to the footpath, covered in small grains of sand. i follow behind the triplets, the beach is completley empty apart from a small cluster of people.

"matt!" nate calls out from the sand about 50 meters away, waving his hand above his head. i jog over to them, dramatically leaping into madis arms,

theres about 35 people all scattered on the sand around a heaped pile of sticks, before i can look for chris i hear a small cheer as a boy lights up the pile of sticks, the orange rays illuminating the grains of sand around the fire.

i run over to the triplets who are sat on the sand is a small cluster, i plop myself down next to them, sparking up a conversation as people start to pull alcohol out of nowhere.

9:47pm

im laying on chris's chest as lively music blares through the night air, he breathes in and out calmly. the sun has fully set, the only light on the beach is the burnt out bonfire, sand kicks up as everyone charges towards the ocean,

i sit up, looking down at chris who has his eyes shut peacefully, the only people left on the beach are all drunk and obnoxiously loud. "chris." i tap him lightly, his eyes flutter open.

"mhm?" he asks, sitting up. his features are perfectly sculptured by the dim light, his hair resting on his forehead. the chain around his neck clings to his bare chest, the only thing on his body are dark blue swim shorts.

i grab his hand, standing up and brushing myself off. i drag chris behind the sand dunes. "you okay?" he asks, i stand infront of him, grabbing his jaw and staring at his lips.

before i can lean in, chris connects our lips hungrily, his hand snaking around my waist and back. i feel the same hands that were tying my bikini 3 hours ago, now frantically undoing it. my bikini falls to our feet, chris pulls away from the kiss, his eyes roaming up and down my body.

chris sits down on the sand, i straddle him as he pulls off his swim shorts. i undo my denim shorts, my bikini bottoms follow.

chris stares into my eyes, our heathy breaths accompanying the silence. "you want to?" chris asks, gripping my waist. "obviously" i tease "gonna have to be nice and quiet for me? yeah?" chris asks, i nod.

“you sure i mean-“ he starts again, i cut him off

“chris we will talk about all of this tomorrow, i need you now”

his hands move to my ass, he hovers me right above his tip before sinking me down slowly, i slam a hand over my mouth “shit.” i moan, the noise muffled by my palm.

“you got it.” chris says, his voice shaky.

i start to bounce up and down on his length, chris also thrusts up into me, filling me up.

chris flips us over, keeping himself inside of me. his chain dangles infront of me as he starts to pound into me, the sand moving below me.

i let out a scream of his name as he repeatedly pounds into me at just the right angle “please fuck!”

chris slams a hand over my lips, his eyes locking with mine, “be quiet.” he almost demands,

“chris i’m close” i groan into his cold hand, he shakes his head,

“no not yet.” he manages to squeeze out, his voice strained.

i start to clench around chris with every thrust, barely audible whimpers escape chris each time i do, i can tell its driving him crazy.

“cum for me, right now” chris says, his thrusts increasing in intensity,

i do, releasing around him, my nails clawing his back repeatedly, he thrusts into me one last time before pulling out, stroking himself once before painting the sand white.

chris and i lay still next to eachother for about a minute, attempting to catch our breath.

“you okay?” chris asks with a small laugh. “yeah, more than okay.” i say back, starting to redress myself.

chris pulls up his shorts before helping me up off the sand, he takes my hand and runs me down to the beach, “chris!” i laugh as he scoops me off my feet and runs towards the ocean, where all of our friends are.

he sprints into the water, throwing me a meter before tripping up and slamming face first into a wave.

i erupt into laughter as he stands up, casually running a hand through his soaked hair.

“yo chris!?” a boy calls out, swimming over to him,

“yeah?” he replies, i watch him as he spins around to face the boy,

“who the fuck was scraping your back, you’ve got red nail lines like everywhere” the boy laughs,

chris’s head snaps round to look at me before swimming over to me, scooping me up for the second time tonight and throwing me into the water.

[screeching-bunny]

I’m not sure if you accept thirst asks, but if you do, then, goshhhh imagine giving ‘it’ to one of your concubines and they just keep repeating the words “Thank you thank you thank you” as they suck and lap at your 🫢. They repeat the words like a prayer, almost as if they were worshipping a god (you).

But if don’t accept thirst asks then please feel free to ignore if this ever makes you uncomfortable.

Yandere! Concubine Harem Asks 1

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’ NSFW!!! MINORS DNI. This is my first time writing nsfw content so it’s kinda bad 💀.

In a magnificent office filled with many luxuries sat a grand ruler by their desk surrounded by towering piles of paperwork. The ruler's regal figure was draped in a robe of royal purple, adorned with gold trimmings, symbolizing their authority and power. As the sun's rays filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a warm glow upon the room, you sighed wearily, with brows furrowed with the weight of your responsibilities. All was quiet but if someone listened closely they could hear the faint sound of slurping.

“Can’t you be quieter? Can’t you see I’m trying to get some of my work done!?”

Beneath you and between your legs was your consort on his knees. He was undressed and was as naked as the day he was born. The man was known for his fierceness and cold heart was currently panting under you like a dog. The sounds of gasps and moans could be heard coming from the man. Currently his lips were red and swollen from the rough treatment that you have given him. Saliva dripped down his mouth as he was desperate to have a taste of you. He sucked and licked as if you were the only source of water he had in years. There was a look of desperateness in his eyes, it made you chuckle at how pathetic he looked. A constant mumbling of “thank yous” came from him each time he had a chance to breathe air.

The consort, whose name you couldn’t have bothered to remember, was as hard as a rock. Having enough of how slow this was going you decided to throw him down onto a couch. You made your way on top of him, positioned yourself, and slammed down right onto his member.

“Ahhh, agh!!”

Tears leaked from his eyes as he began to tremble. Your arms were pressed firmly into the cushions as you made your fierce movements as he was beneath you. He was huge and swollen within you. You began to rock your hips continuously down on him. His breathing became more harsh and stuttered. You leaned down and began to nibble down on his bottom lip. The kiss was very strong and aggressive. When your consort needed to breathe you made sure to slam your lips back on top of his again. His hands on your waist while your tongues intertwined with each other. Devastating pleasure overcame your consort. His eyes were hazy and you could feel a pump of warm liquid form inside of you. When you released from the kiss his mouth was red and swollen with a string of saliva attaching the two of you.

“Ah, ah, agh!!”

“I can’t believe you came from a kiss. Ugh whatever, a few of my advisors will be here any minute. If they catch us doing this, I won't be letting you off easy tonight.”

It was safe to say that the advisors were never allowed entrance into your study due to… your other matters. However, the next day whenever the maids came near that room, their faces would instantly turn bright red. The sounds that came from that room yesterday were definitely something else and they couldn’t help but blush from it. They just couldn’t believe it went on for an entire day! The good thing was that at least the maids that were in charge of cleaning up your mess got a massive raise but holy cow did you really have to break a sofa?!?! The only thing that they could do was pray for your poor consort.

[naffeclipse]

Dance, Detective, Dance

Detective!Reader x Police Chief!Eclipse

Commission Info

Who's ready for some dancing with Police Chief!Eclipse? I had a delightful time writing this darling little fic which was requested by Anonymous. The detective reader must navigate a situation they truly do not want to be in and are ultimately rescued by a very dashing Eclipse. Now, time to hit the dance floor.

———

This is not where you’re meant to be.

The candlelight twinkle of the capitol building’s chandeliers cast the ballroom floor in gentle, romantic lightning. The marble columns of the great architecture build a grandness to the politics and party tonight. Men, women, human and animatronic alike, flutter around the space in bird-like trillings of socialization. The suits are finely pressed and the gowns are exuberant and shimmering. The large, photo-ready smiles mean nothing to you. Though fellow officers mingle among public workers and rich city members, you stand deliberately away from the conversations in a shady nook against the wall.

You must remind yourself to unfurrow your brow lest you stand with a perpetual scowl on your face for the rest of the night. This should not be mandated as part of your job—a charity ball, put on by your police precinct no less. Your time is better spent pooling over castfiles and running down streets to locate criminals. 

You tug at the collar of your formal attire, dark and fitted for a black-tie event. The weight of your gun rests heavily on your hip, hidden beneath your clothes. You wish you could stroke it, hold it in your hands, and count the rounds. The number of bullets inside the clip is branded in your mind, but the routine is grounding. But, your hands lie empty and repeatedly clench.

The night has worn on. This has been your service for the evening. You can excuse yourself on the basis that you’re needed back at your desk to study the recent string of crimes the Celestial Gang conducted. Surely that’s better spent time than standing here, stuck in fancy clothes that do little to make you more approachable.

The door. Your eyes have been returning to it constantly in the last hour. You could piece together what’s been eating away at you about the last rival gang slaying. What are the Celestial Gang building up to? Why suddenly strike so hard and fast at enemies? Do they simply have more confidence or is there something moving in the underground, dark and silent as a reaper?

This is enough. You’re going back to work. You step out of the shadow alcove you’ve lurked in all evening. Shoulders hunched as you begin to slip between oblivious attendees of the charity ball, you keep your eyes on the door. Single-mindedly, you weave towards the exit without seeing one face or hearing a voice in the crowd’s babble.

Someone emerges at the top of the grand staircase to the left of the doors. A familiar figure, tall and lithe and adorned in sun rays, descends the steps.

You stop in a crowd. Eyes drawn up, you stare at the police chief.

Eclipse. You’ve never seen him so sleek and sharp in a tuxedo of deep crimson. He fixes his bow tie with deft fingers, his eyes lifting to the crowd as if he’s lost something. His expression is intent, unsatisfied as he searches for the brief moment it takes for his gaze to swiftly land upon you.

Your lips part for an inexplicable reason. To call out to him. To explain why you’re making a beeline for the door. Say hello before you tell him goodbye. You have no answer. No words slip from your lips as he holds your stare as if you were the only person standing in the room.

His canary yellow optics brighten. His hands fall, softly opening in a gesture that seems to invite you closer. The police chief tilts his head. He finishes descending the steps as you push through the crowd—not to escape the ball but to meet him at the foot of the staircase.

He says your name softly in a manner you consider dangerous.

“Eclipse,” you greet, though it’s unnatural to say his name while the two of you are very much not alone. Yet, the crowd leaves you two in a pocket of privacy, unaware and unconcerned with a commanding officer and his subordinate.

Music pulls on strings, echoing in the air. Dancers begin to meet and pair behind you on the polished dance floor. Eclipse’s eyes briefly stray to the live music conducting the beginning of a couple’s dance, but his black pupils return to you. 

“Where are you going?” He reaches out and touches the sleeve of your clothes, smoothing down a non-existent wrinkle. 

“Out,” you answer, almost shoving it between your teeth. “I have work to do.”

His grin tightens like glass crunching in on itself. His fingertips slip further down your arm, trailing carefully over the sleeve that’s far too stiff for your liking to loosely encircle your wrist. He keeps you in place.

“You are expected to remain for the entirety of the charity ball; the same as every officer in attendance.” He speaks with the firmness of authority.

You narrow your eyes. He meets you unyieldingly. Your fist clenches just underneath his large, dark hand.

“I need to go over the case files from last week. I can’t stand here all night.” You look out over the band playing, accompanying dancers as they step and twirl. The bodies are organized yet chaotic in their colors and energies. A few people are laughing and others are stone-cold serious, focused on the rhythm while others kiss their partner.

“Detective, you can last one night at a social event.” His voice gravels low, almost touching a note of mirth.

His thumb slides down the bones of your hand, caressing your skin softly. A shiver subtly works its way up your spine. You turn back to face him. A stubborn argument crawls upon your lips but you stop short.

The police chief is strangely quiet. No, distracted. His eyes roam up and down your person. You stand frozen under his inspection. You dressed appropriately. He can’t fault you for improper attire but you can’t unravel the motive for his silence. His expression deepens into something soft. His optic lights dust you gently with his attention.

The strange exchange prompts your study of the police chief. He’s never been one to slack in his appearance nor fail to dress for the occasion. There is an undeniable charm to how the tuxedo looks on him. His fingertips are soft against the pulse on the inside of your wrist. The deep crimson color compliments his maroon and indigo sun rays.

A beat passes. Eclipse finds your eyes again.

“You look exquisite, sweetheart.” The note of affection in his tone sends a weakness into your knees.

“I’m not staying,” you say. Eclipse knows better than to charm you—though you must breathe to regain the feeling in your legs. “Even if I will miss seeing you look so sharp and spiffy.”

“Thank you,” his voice is low and gravelly. It echoes him finding you late at night, working at your desk, and walking you halfway to your home. A voice greeting you first thing in the morning with a cup of coffee. A question of concern, wondering if you’ve had enough sleep lately.

He holds out his other hand. The hold he has on your wrist is loose, soft and so unlike the coldness of handcuffs you’ve experienced before. You’re reminded again of his relation to the Celestial Gang mob bosses. Though what happened to separate Eclipse from his brothers and lead them down such different paths eludes you. You don’t pry. You won’t ask him to give it all up. 

He is not his brothers.

“Since you must stay here, we can make use of your presence.” His fingers unfurl. His dark digits and silicon palm wait before you. Like an offer of hope. Like an invitation to sneak away, just the two of you. His optics are lower in light. “Won’t you dance with me, Detective?”

You stare at the offering. A weak stirring begins within you. You tilt your head back to hold his gaze.

“I can’t dance.” You have the bluntness of a hammer. He knows this. He has always known this.

Eclipse’s grin remains unwavering. 

“I’ll lead.”

The music swells to a final jazzed ending. Couples drift apart and shuffle, and others stay perfectly together, waiting for the next song.

This is dangerous. Your hand falls into his. Him leading you deeper onto the dance floor to lose yourselves in the crowd and yet, find all the privacy. 

“Stand on my feet,” he says.

“You’ll regret this,” you warn him gently for his own sake. You fix your shoes upon him, scuffing up the shiny black polish but Eclipse doesn’t even glance down. His optics are firmly fastened on your gaze.

He chuckles low within his metaphorical throat. The first twirl begins, and you are perfectly safe upon his footwork. If anyone notices that you’re not truly putting in effort, allowing Eclipse to lead and put in all the moves, no one says anything. No one truly looks at you. All the politicians officers and city workers are engrossed in their dramas. You almost feel as if you were alone with Eclipse.

The music slips over you. The string cords and the waltz rhythm of the instruments tug you both along. Eclipse effortlessly weaves and carries you through the people, his attention tilted down to hold you in his vision while the room spins at the edges. You stare into his optics. Yellow with pinpricks of black. His smile is softening at the edges, his sharp teeth less visible in his focus.

“How do you know how to dance?” you ask, your interrogation voice coming through full force.

Eclipse tilts his head. A glint in his gaze gives way to something you can’t help but find unusual for the police chief.

“Personal interest and a need to fulfill certain duties a police chief must uphold such as appearing at public events. Especially for an animatronic,” his voice is gravelly.

To be charming and capable in every manner, to have to give even more than a human would in his position. Your hands clench his as he cuts through the space, leading your clasped hands like a wedge through the masses. Your grip tightens upon him. A burn sets in your chest, hot and spitting.

“You don’t have to dance,” you say, “Not with me.”

“I know,” he says softly. His voice lowers. “It’s a shame I don’t see you like this more often.”

You grimace as you glance down at yourself.  “These clothes are too stuffy. Who could chase a criminal down in this?”

Eclipse’s smile is poignant as he remarks, “It’s a very good thing you’re not on active duty tonight then.”

A sound between a huff and a growl escapes your mouth. Eclipse twirls you in a motion that leaves your head spinning slowly until you remember to focus on his eyes. His light is constant through the movement of his practiced swaying. 

You fight the urge to close your eyes and rest your head on his chest. His height gives you the perfect advantage to rest against him. You might be tired. The entire social event has sucked you dry and now you’re stuck in a slow whirl with the police chief. It’s difficult to remember that you wanted to leave only a few moments ago.

“Eclipse, I have to go,” you say over the ringing of the music. You’re getting distracted. You feel weak, held up by him so tenderly. His hand presses into the small of your back as he shifts you in his arms. 

“Would it kill you to spend an evening with me, looking so fine, and dancing?” His eyes burn low. You can’t look away.

“Maybe.” He doesn’t let you loose, so you must grit your teeth and admit, “I dance and wear nice clothes only for you.”

Eclipse grins. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, and his movements grow stronger. 

You cling tighter to him. Held flush against his chassis and fine suit, you watch the room twist upon itself. Eclipse draws you in and out, and he carefully stops to gently set you back on your feet. You immediately freeze like a wild animal set in a civilized place. Before you can succumb to your failure of not knowing a single dance, Eclipse takes your hand and lifts your arm above your head. Pressing your shoulder softly, he guides you into a soft spin upon your toes. You almost stumble. He holds you steady.

Then he takes you by the waist, holding you tight as he dips you low. You’re parallel to the floor, parallel to the police chief's smile as he hovers above you. You both hide below the crowd. The music swells.

His mouth has never been closer. You don’t realize how much your chest heaves, your heart alive in your ribcage as if amid a shoot-out, but it’s him. It’s only him. A smokey-amber scent fills your senses. He’s so close, and you drown in him.

Eclipse gently lowers himself closer. His optics flash between your eyes and your lips. You breathe out. Your eyelids flutter close—

And gunshots ring out.

Your eyes fly open and Eclipse’s optics flare. People scream. The stringed instruments cut off with abrupt notes souring the air. In a blur of a second, Eclipse pulls you back onto your feet. You whirl around, your hand upon your gun and freeing it from its concealed holster. 

The doors are wide open, held by men in dark attire as more shots ring out, thrumming out of Thompson machine guns. Gleeful criminals stare down at the panicking charity ball. You step forward. Eclipse's hand falls on your shoulder, pulling you back just as a politician in a suit dashes right in front of you. Eclipse’s grip tightens on your collarbone.

The gangsters glance around, lowering their weapons. Screams of panic ring out again but the gunfire stops—they have everyone’s attention.

“Eclipse,” you utter. Your finger is careful on the trigger. There are too many civilians. The boldness of crashing a party in the heart of the capital building leaves you seething.

“The Celestial Gang,” his voice lowers. He knows. You both know.

Henchmen step aside and hold open the doors to the dark, cool night. Dressed in fine suits, sharp and oily as finger-rubbed gold, the mob bosses of the most feared gang in the city step into the ballroom. They hold guns in their hands, gleaming cold and dark. Their eyes, gray and pale, and red and black, cut through the panicking people. 

Eclipse is half-frozen beside you. He steps forward, placing himself between you and the mob bosses. His brothers.

Your eyes dart around the room. The people have crowded against the far wall. Other officers have drawn their weapons. You glare down the animatronics bearing the themes not unlike the police chief, one of a pale yellow sun, and the other of a dark and silvery moon.

“Oh, Moon, I hope we’re not too late to the party,” Sun announces. His fingers stroke the trigger of his gun. His mouth curls sinisterly. “It’s so nice to see all the elites of this rotten city celebrating their charity.”

“Look, brother,” Moon tips his dark hat at you. “We’re just in time.”

You grit your teeth where you stand, and glare back.

“I think you’re right.” Sun laughs, cold and chilling against the marbled columns. His attention rests on you, hungry with avarice.

Moon lifts his gun into the air and smiles with sharp teeth. He announces, “We will be stealing the detective for a dance.”

[lunarmoves]

connected to this drabble!

"that's not sanitary, you know."

you paused, about to take a drink out of your cup of pink lemonade, and glanced up at sun. he watched you from the other side of the security desk, his arms bracing against its lip.

"what is?" you asked in confusion. you looked down at yourself, wondering if there was a stain or something on your uniform, but you were clean.

sun pointed to the cup in your hand, its straw sticking flimsily out of the top cover. "sharing drinks." there was a terseness to his smile despite it being stretched wide across his face in a vain attempt at casualness.

you only shrugged. he'd probably caught you letting the (relatively) new daycare security guard steal a few sips out of your drink before he clocked out for the night. "humans do it all the time, depending. besides, vincent's a friend. i didn't mind sharing with him. he was thirsty."

"that's not the point, friend!" sun exclaimed with a sudden loudness that had you jumping slightly. his pale, white eyes squinted slightly, but not in amusement. "exchanging saliva via straws or other utensils can lead to the transmission of germs and certain dise—"

"whoa, chill, dude! it's not that serious!" you cut off his rant abruptly, waving your free hand in the air. you made a motion to take the straw up in your mouth so you could prove your point, but before you could, sun snatched the cup right out of your hand. you let out an indignant hey! and tried to grab it back from him, but he leaned out of your reach.

"yes it is!" he said stubbornly, his fingers gripping onto the plastic of the cup. his head twitched slightly to the left, rays shifting minutely. "you could get sick! or worse!"

you huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. drama queen. you already knew you weren't getting that drink back. "it was only a few sips, man. besides, vincent doesn't have any diseases."

sun's gaze narrowed, his smile thinning. there was an edge to his words you didn't quite like. "you don't know that."

okay, well, he was right, but you weren't going to admit that. you swapped drinks with friends all the time, it was just something natural at that point in your relationship with them. "i don't know why you're getting so worked up over this," you told him irritably. "i'm sure you've seen kids eat each others' foods and drink each others' drinks all the time."

"that's different!" sun replied in a peevish manner.

you gave him a look that indicated you didn't quite believe him. "how is it different?"

at that, he seemed to pause and flounder for words. his arms moved about in the air in a manner that borderlined erratic. "it's— they're not—"

"i'm starting to think this is less about me and more about vincent," you said flatly as you raised an eyebrow at him.

sun recoiled, rays shrinking down slightly before he forced them back out to their normal size. "don't be silly!" he rushed out. "this isn't about—"

"then what is it about, hm?" you asked as gently as you could, which, in retrospect, wasn't all that. it was getting late and you didn't expect to have to deal with this tonight. "you know, i don't think you like vincent all too—"

"i said this isn't about him!" a burst of pink exploded out from sun's grasp, causing a waterfall to splash down on the desk and floor. you jumped at the abruptness of it, your eyes latching onto the tight grip sun had on your drink. his fingers had punctured holes in it, crushing the plastic until it was jagged and flat.

you stared at it for one moment, two moments, then snapped your gaze up to sun's face plate. he was staring directly at you, white pupils tiny and constricted in grey optics. his smile was wide and strained, his fingers twitching minutely at his side.

you swallowed heavily, and in a small, small voice, you said "...sun?"

the word seemed to breathe life back into him. he blinked and darted his gaze down to his hand. "oh!" he jumped slightly and loosened his grip just a tad. "silly me! sometimes i don't realize my own strength!" his body restarted that idle swaying motion it always seemed to have, and you distantly wondered when he had stopped it. "you stay right there friend! i'll get this all cleaned up in a jiffy!"

and then he skittered away, leaving you to stare blankly down at the waterlogged remains of your ruined drink.

[mustainegf]

Hey!

Can you write about virgin james where the reader catches him looking at her tatas and then she lets him touch and also lets him touch her pussay and then whatever you want

I’ve done a few things similar to this, but I couldn’t help doing this one eeeek also I think the banner on this one is so pretty

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐄 ¹⁹⁸³

The sun was setting outside, casting its orange rays through the windows. The guys had gone out for the evening, leaving James and me behind. So rarely had the place been that quiet, that this atmosphere became nearly intimate. We were lazing in the living room, chatting about nothing.

Well, James was always a little awkward with me, but that had its own charm. He would blush easily and look at me with a kind of boyish shyness that was so sweet.

He seemed more nervous than usual tonight, though. His eyes kept darting into my chest, and I couldn't help but notice. I had wrote a tank that showed a bit of cleavage.

"James," I said softly, looking for his eyes. "Is everything cool?"

He reddened, turned away, and brushed his shoulder, obviously embarrassed. "Uh, yeah. I'm good."

I raised an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically. "You sure? You seem a little… distracted."

He coughed again, still avoiding my eyes. "I, uh, well..."

I smiled to set him at ease. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

James finally looked at me, his eyes were busting with uncertainty. "I, um, I can’t—"

I followed his gaze down to my chest and realized what he was trying to say. Amusement and a warm feeling began brewing in me. "My tits?"

He nodded, looking mortified. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I—I didn't mean to."

I cut him off with a gentle laugh. "It's fine, James. Really."

He turned to me, plainly confused. "Is it?"

I nodded finally, feeling bold enough to take that step. "Wanna touch ‘em?"

His eyes shot wide, and he looked from one extreme to the other, half wanting to run, half ready to jump for joy. "I, uh… yeah. But…"

I smiled at him and scooted closer on the couch. "I'm sure. It's just you and me here, remember?"

He swallowed hard, his hands shaking lightly as he reached out. I guided his hands onto my chest to help him cup my breasts. First, his hands moved extremely tentatively, but the more comfortable he seemed to become, the more he began exploring.

"Whoa," he whispered a second time, his eyes wide with wonder. "They're so… squishy."

I giggled, falling for him a little. "Yeah, they are."

He finally looked up at me, and his face was a mix of nervousness and excitement. "Thank you. And uh… sorry for being weird..."

I decided to be a little more bold. "There's more you can touch, you know."

His eyes sharpened again, and I could see just how hungry he was. "Really?"

I nodded, standing up and taking his hand. "Come with me."

We went into his bedroom, and the air was heavy. As I came into the room, I closed the door behind me and turned to him.

"James," I said softly, my hand moving his to the waistband of my pants. "You can touch me here too if you want."

He looked at me uncertainly. "Are you sure?"

I nodded and laid my hand on top of his, further inciting him to slide his fingers inside my pants. "I'm sure."

He was still for a bit before his fingers reached my pussy. I let out a slight gasp. It felt a little weird, exciting too, at his touch. His fingers were very nervous, exploring slow, like he was mortified by doing something wrong.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, concerned.

I smiled and nodded. "It feels… oh, James. You're doing so good."

At my soft moan, he seemed to relax a bit, his fingers becoming bolder. He did not leave a single inch of me, the feeling sending waves through my body. I could feel him starting to relax, his nervousness disappearing as he grew in confidence.

"Thanks," he said again, very awkward. I found his flustered manner to be very cute.

I was getting closer to him, my lips barely grazing his. "Always, James."

The seconds ticked by and we were standing just a little ways apart from each other, my body touching his, his fingers further exploring my body. It was obvious that he was getting aroused, and it was turning him on just about as much as me.

"Do you want to lie down?" I whispered.

He nodded, and we moved onto his bed, where we lay down next to each other.

I took his hand again and pressed it into my pussy to get him exploring me some more. Now, his touch was much surer, and I could feel the beginnings of the growing ecstasy.

"You’re so pretty," he murmured in admiration.

I smiled, leaving soft kisses on his cheeks. "Thank you James..."

His fingers didn't stop touching me, and all of a sudden they seemed expert, curling perfectly with every pump inside. I was getting closer and closer, his fingers were almost too much.

"James!” I gasped, trembling. "I'm going to…"

He looked up at me with excitement in his baby blue eyes. "Really?"

I nodded, unable to form words with the oncoming waves of pleasure racking my body. He didn't stop the stroking, those fingers of his that felt like magic, right until I finally hit it. Oh, boy, it was such a great feeling that I cried out shaking.

Finally regaining myself, I looked at him with our closeness. "That was so good, James."

He grinned, proud and a little shy. "I'm glad you liked it."

I nodded, feeling satisfied, fulfilled. "I did. And now it's your turn."

He was once again shocked, and I could feel his excitement and nerves immediately come back. "My turn?"

I nodded again, my hand slipping along the waistband of his pants. "I want to make you feel good too."

He was hesitant for a sec before nodding and letting me pull off his pants and boxers. I could see that his cock was painfully hard, and he had that wanting, puppy look in his eyes. I wrapped my hand around him, and he felt warm and heavy.

"Does that feel good?" I asked in a whisper.

He nodded, his eyes closing as a soft moan escaped his lips. "Yeah, it does..."

I began stroking him slowly, thrilled by the feeling in my palm each time he would throb. His breathing became heavy, and arousal rose through his every nerve.

"You're really beautiful," he whispered again.

We went on for some time, our bodies near to each other, the intimacy growing with every single millisecond.

Finally, I could feel him reach close, and I quickened the pace; I wanted to bring him the same lustful pleasure he had given me.

"James," I said softly. "I want you to cum for me."

He snapped his eyes open to stare at mine, his gaze burned with the fervor of his desire. "I'm gonna… fuck."

I nodded, and that build up burst in me. "Do it, James. Cum for me."

The very next second, a cry tore out of his body, shaking it to the core from the force of my squeeze. I watched deep satisfaction course through me at the intensity that raked across his face while he came, hot ropes spilling up onto his tummy.

As it was over, we lay there together: our bodies very close, closer than they’d ever been. I could feel the connection, the knot that had grown much tighter.

[anystalker707]

gonna take more than a couple hours

Pairing: Shanks x [male, amab] Reader Summary: Shanks and you have been flirting for a while. It was about time things got taken to the bedroom Tags: top shanks / lots of petnames

Requested by anon ["Yaay! I'm starving for some Shanks or Mihawk fics 😥😥 I'm glad you're doing well! ❤❤ So, could I then request amab male reader (bottom) x Shanks (top) where reader is a booze merchant, sailing the seas and selling the good stuff for both local folk and pirates, but he always has some saved for Shanks(...)"]

MASTERLIST

          “Oh, look at who we have here!” A familiar voice rang over the sound of glasses clinking together and loud chattering. “I’m talking with you, sweetheart.” Given the proximity of the voice, you turned around from the aligned glasses on the shelf and gasped at the sight of the familiar red-haired man leaning over the counter with a grin.

“Shanks!” You gasped with a grin before leaning over to hug him. “Oh, it’s been so long! How have you been?” You pulled away and looked him up and down. No new scars, as far as you could see.

“Oh, fine, of course, ignoring when I was missing the best boy around, y’know?” Shanks winked, holding back a chuckle at the visible embarrassment across your face.

You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath. “Going to spend the night, yeah?” The golden seal of the blueish bottle came off with ease at your experienced ministrations, and the drink was placed in a large glass that you pushed toward Shanks.

“Of course. Only a couple of hours with you aren’t enough,” Shanks said as if it were obvious as he took a sip of the drink, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from saying anything. “On a side note, I hope you have enough booze for us this time. We can’t find good booze like yours anywhere else, so we’re taking everything you have.” He grinned.

“Everything?” You raised an eyebrow. “I have quite a bit in stock, so maybe it’ll be too much. Are you sure?”

Shanks clicked his tongue and tilted his head. His thumb ran along the handle of the glass, tracing the shape gently, as his ring shone under the last rays of sunlight of the day that slipped through the window. “You know me, sweetheart.”

You shrugged, breathing a chuckle. “As long as you pay well…”

“Oh, love…”

          “So…” Benn muttered through the cigarette in his mouth. “Eighteen boxes.” He looked at you for confirmation before you nodded, and he handed you the berries, waiting for you to check before walking away.

“Great,” you whispered to yourself, tucking the bills into your pocket. Having the Red Hair Pirates over didn’t only mean pleasantly escaping the monotonous routine but also a good addition to your account. You were about to return to behind the counter when an arm wrapped around your waist, and you didn’t even need to look to know who it was, placing your hands over his arm as you instinctively leaned into the embrace.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” Shanks pressed a kiss behind your ear with a hum. He already smelled like booze, but he drank so much that it’d take more than two bottles for him to start feeling something.

A small smile tugged on your lips. “Work, of course.” The bar was rather agitated with the Red Hair Pirates around, given how they attracted many people and how fond of partying they were. It didn’t matter where, it was all the same thing. In all the bars you’d worked, wherever you’d sell your stuff, the crew was there, down for a drink. “Got a lot of stuff to do tonight.”

Shanks’ arm tightened around your waist when you moved to grab a few empty glasses. “I don’t think so. Well, not here anyway,” he muttered, and you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm up. He was being a lot more touchy and possessive than usual… “Y’know, you could show me the bedrooms in his place. I don’t think I’ll be able to find my way back to the ship tonight,” he muttered with an audible smirk, and he certainly had fun seeing you progressively melt.

Taking a deep breath, you placed a hand over Shanks’ before facing him, furrowing your eyebrows. You weren’t sure whether you were worried or afraid or something else. “Shanks…”

“I mean what I’m saying, sweetheart,” Shanks chuckled, rubbing your side, his touch soothing. “Please?” His breath fanned against your cheek, and you had to use all your strength not to turn and kiss him right there. Not that it would matter, but you needed things at a slower pace.

“Come on,” you whispered, squeezing his arm before you stepped away and headed over to the stairs that led to the second floor of the building. The stairs creaked under your feet, and the sound of loud chatter and music became muffled in the background according to how you reached the last stairs and, eventually, the hall. “This is my— Nngh!” 

Shanks pressed his lips to yours the moment you walked into one of the rooms, yours, kicking the door close behind himself and cupping your cheek. It was something you’d wanted for so long, but you didn’t know what to do now that it was happening, your mind going blank before you could finally start kissing him back. He hummed in appreciation, deepening the kiss once you started relaxing at it.

“That’s a good boy,” Shanks whispered between kisses, muffling any attempt to answer with more kisses, pushing his tongue into your mouth until he could snatch a quiet moan from you. His thumb ran across your cheek before he finally pulled away. His gaze held yours as he locked the door behind himself. “I’ve been having you in my mind for quite a while, sweetheart, did you know that?”

Your cheeks heated up, both at his words and how he stepped closer again, kissing your shoulder softly as his fingertips peeked under your shirt. “Mm, I dunno if I believe you,” you breathed, hesitantly placing your hands on his shoulders, and you couldn’t help but grip them when he started kissing your neck. His stubble scratched your skin, tickling. It was uncomfortable, but the kisses and nipping on your skin made it seem insignificant, even more so when he bit down on your neck, snatching a gasp from you.

“Maybe I’ll have to show you, then?” Shanks whispered with a soft chuckle, pressing kisses over the bite mark he left behind. The words escaped your grasp for a moment, caught in your throat, and an embarrassed sound came from you instead. “Oh, love,” he sighed softly, kissing your neck. Despite not trusting yourself enough to answer Shanks, you grasped onto his shirt, slowly undoing the last buttons, which earned you a hum of appreciation.  “Join me,” he muttered, tugging lightly on your shirt.

The clothes were removed one by one, discarded and forgotten on the floor while you moved towards the bed, landing on the mattress with Shanks on top of you, his mouth pressed to yours once more. Shanks nipped on your bottom lip until you whimpered before he ran his tongue over the bite and slipped it into your mouth. He kissed well, managing to make your cock twitch and leak just by making out with you, even more so when he kissed you deeper after you tugged on his hair.

“Fuck,” Shanks groaned, like revolted at himself or something else, and started nipping down your jaw, kissing and nipping on your neck and collarbones, anything to get from you the little whimpers that he loved so much. He seemed to know how to do that very well.

Despite how unstable your voice would be, you finally gathered some courage, cracking out Shanks’ name in a broken moan and arching your back into his touches.

“Do you—”

“There’s lube in the drawer,” you breathed, looking away to avoid the look he shot you while you reached for the bedside table and retrieved the bottle of lube. “Can I, please?” Your eyes met his again, and you forced yourself to hold eye contact despite your heartbeat hammering against your ears.

With a nod, Shanks sat back with your legs over his thighs, observing it as you poured the lube on yourself, groaning softly at the feeling of the cold liquid trailing between your legs.

“Fuck,” you breathed, putting the bottle aside.

Shanks could only reach out before your fingers pressed to your own entrance, and his breath hitched at the same time his eyes widened lightly. “Holy fuck, baby,” he breathed, placing a hand on your inner thigh. His thumb pressed to your ass lightly to spread it and give himself a better vision of your two fingers sinking inside yourself. He bit his lip, but the excitement was still clear through the way his cock twitched, with a drop of pre-cum dripping down the thick length.

Your eyes were focused on Shanks’ face, watching his reaction to how you fingered yourself carefully, and fuck, holding yourself back was hard. The arousal made you so sensitive, in a way you could just finger yourself until you came, but Shanks’ cock would be a better, bigger prize. He rubbed circles into your skin with his thumb, and you knew it was time to stop before you got close. Instead, you grabbed the lube again and poured it on Shanks.

A soft hiss came from Shanks when the cold liquid came in contact with his cock, but he gave you a real moan when your hands wrapped around his length, spreading the lube evenly while stroking him. He was so thick in your hands, heavy, making you squirm a little in anticipation. Shanks surely loved the effect he had on you, squeezing your thigh more, but your hands soon left him as well, only returning to his cock once you lay back on the bed, guiding it to your hole.

“Excited, aren’t we?” Shanks had that terrible smirk on his lips as he leaned over you again, kissing you before you could give him any answer. “I’ll make you feel so good, baby,” he whispered between kisses, and the most you could give him in response was a groan.

You arched your back with a gasp the moment Shanks’ cock started to push into you, stretching you nicely, which gave you a light burning feeling that only managed to heighten your arousal. “Mmph, fuck,” you practically whimpered, holding on to his shoulders tightly once he was almost fully inside. When he was, though, you could barely catch your breath for a moment, trying your best to adjust to feeling that full.

“Good, sweetheart?” Shanks’ breath fanned over your skin as his lips grazed your own, and you took a moment to nod, adjusting your arms around his neck. “Great,” he said before he could start moving, chasing a fast pace right away. His elbow was pressed to the mattress, right by your side, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, adjusting the angle of the thrusts lightly, though you doubted he even had to hit your prostate continuously to make you see stars.

It felt better than anything you’d felt in a while, sending an intense wave of pleasure down your spine, and you wondered if Shanks had put anything in your drink earlier—even if you hadn’t drunk anything for a while. He managed to fill you up so well, hitting all the right spots, and making you a mess so quickly.

“Too— Mmph, Sh—” You gasped, nails sinking into his back as your thighs quivered.

Shanks raised an eyebrow as he paused and pulled back a little to look at your face. “Yes, baby? Did I hurt you?”

You gave yourself a moment to breathe before shyly meeting Shanks’ gaze, swallowing. “A little slower, please?” You rubbed the back of Shanks’ neck, playing with his hair a little. “I… It’s too good. You didn’t hurt me.”

There was a pause before Shanks hummed with a nod and a poor attempt to suppress the smirk that tugged on his lips. “Of course, sweetheart.” He kissed you again, softly, holding the kiss as he started moving his hips once more. The thrusts were still intense, but they weren’t so fast anymore, allowing you to have some control over yourself.

Shanks swallowed your moans, keeping the kiss going, nonetheless. He was straining, trying his best not to fuck you as fast and hard as he wanted, but he needed you to feel good as well. There was nothing to lose by taking the slower pace, and it also meant enjoying you for longer. He craved the way you clenched around his cock, milking it with every thrust, a lot better than anything he could’ve imagined during lonely nights.

“You feel so good around me, baby,” Shanks muttered into your ear; his words and moans managed to intensify your arousal. He hissed as your nails sank into his back, his thrusts faltering. “Fuck…”

“Feels so good,” you breathed, arching your back and wrapping your legs tighter around Shanks’ waist. It felt like getting a relief you didn’t know you needed, and it felt like the best thing ever. “Mmph, more…” Your moans started sounding whiny, but you really couldn’t help it. It was one of the last things you wanted to care about right now, with Shanks’ cock filling you so nicely, making your head foggy with arousal.

Pride swelled in Shanks’ chest before he pressed his lips to your neck again, nipping and sucking the soft skin, leaving behind love bites as a token of his love—and lust—toward you. He couldn’t help but thrust faster again, paying attention to your reactions as he did so. He needed it so badly.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you said shakily, feeling your thighs quiver.

The strings of moans echoed in the room along with the obscene sound of skin against skin, and you found yourself lost in a nice haze, barely aware of the existence of anything beyond that bedroom. The reality Shanks pulled you into felt so much better, blissful, making you ache with need.

Your thighs pressed into Shanks’ hips to pull him closer, and the spots his hips hug into would probably hurt later, but that’d just be another sexy reminder.

Whenever you arched your back, Shanks’ cock would hit just the right angle that’d make you see stars, so you invested in it, squirming, doing your best to keep that angle until your balls tightened with the anticipation of the impending orgasm. “Sh—Shanks,” you mumbled, your nails sinking into his back and scratching it. “I’m— Mmph, ‘m close,” you breathed as your thighs quivered, becoming tighter around him, just like your walls tightened and squeezed his cock, craving it.

“Great, me too,” Shanks muttered as he paused before he started moving again, his thrusts faster, not minding how intense it was because your release was actually the goal right now. He loved your gasps and breathless whimpers, how you clung to him, scratching and squirming. His arm hurt a little from holding himself in that position for a while, but you were almost there, so he made a little effort.

A pleased sound that resembled a sob escaped your lips as you arched your back, thighs trembling as you came, cock twitching and spurting warm cum between the two of you messily. It was all it took for Shanks to follow suit, cumming inside you, allowing his seed to fill you while he kept thrusting sloppily to make sure to milk every drop of cum from you. The feeling of Shanks’ teeth tugging on your collarbones was what brought you back to reality after the orgasm, his stubble scratching your skin.

“Fuck,” you groaned before cupping Shanks’ face, bringing him for another kiss. “I think you gotta stay for longer.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Repose

—

Time written- 10:51 p.m.

Jason Todd/fem!reader (Credit to Irenne on Pinterest)

—

The sting in his muscles when Jason so much as lifted a finger was nothing new to him. The healing bruises decorating his knuckles, the constant burning ache in his knees.

You’re getting old, Todd. You’d say to him.

Ouch, straight in the heart. He’d reply before cornering you against the nearest surface, giving you that cheeky smile that always made your cheeks rosy. Tell me I’m getting old again, see what other kinds of things I can get ya to say.

He liked to tease back, to push those tickle spots. adoring to make you laugh whenever he had the chance. Any positive reaction he gained from you was another gold star on his chart, a positive outlook on his conscience so grand, the galaxy would get jealous in a few months at most.

Watching you sleep enveloped his mind in a calm serenity he believed he couldn’t obtain anywhere else. A satisfaction of seeing the person you love committing such a simple action as sleeping was…

He wasn’t sure how to describe it.

All he’d know is he’d watch for hours without interruption, a content little smile remaining permanent on his face.

The comfort of your presence nearly allowed Jason to ignore the ache in his joints, the healing bruises and bandaged cuts you aided him with. His slightly injured, throbbing head slowly soothed from a few rapid release meds, provided by your little stash kept in a cross labeled medical in your dresser.

You made the ‘mistake’ of offering Jason a lollipop, typical pediatric doctor behavior.

He plays into it, asking for a scented sticker instead. Or a kiss.

You didn’t have any stickers, so you’re forced to settle per your dangerous boyfriend’s request. One kiss turned into another, shifting into Jason’s hands cradling your plush, warm hips, sitting you in his lap after a couple of encouraging nudges.

You advised against it at first, due to his injuries, but Jason couldn’t help but insist.

“Jay?” Your eyes squint in the darkness, catching the faint rays of moonlight reflecting off the white streaks in his tussled hair. Your red teddy bear stares down at you, gifting your bare body a warm squeeze against his.

“You okay?” You croak out a whisper, growing a little worried as to why he was awake at this hour. Like your tired brain could fully acknowledge the time, really.

Jason nods once. “Yeah. M’okay, babe.”

“Do you have to go?” Your sweet, tired voice tugs at his sore heartstrings. You never wanted him to leave, dreading laying in bed all alone while watching him get dressed. As much as you admired his physique, it most likely ends with some kind of cut to clean and kiss better.

You wanted him to remain right where he was: in a safe space, a warm meal in his belly, his wounds tended to, his body resting after various limbs grew tangled within each other’s.

Jason was here. He was here, he was safe. His heartbeat usually lulled you to sleep, but tonight you settled for a pillow to keep the pressure off his chest.

“No no,” he replies, trailing a few calloused fingers along your cheek. “No, I’m stayin’ tonight.”

Your tired smile grows when he kissed your concerns away, his nose brushing along yours as his pecks trail from one on your cheek, towards another on the top of your head.

“What’s wrong?” Your exhausted mind remains ever so vigilant on his behalf, feeling both heart warmed and a little guilty. He’s supposed to tend to your needs, but it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it.

He needs to give you a day. A day full of appreciation for all the hours you’ve spent doting on him, taking care of him like this. He wanted you to experience just how much of an absolute cherub you’ve been, kissing his cheek repeatedly while settling your head along his shoulder.

“Shh shhh. Nothing, babygirl.” Jason rasps, pressing a warm kiss to your temple before reinforcing his hold, rubbing soothing circles along your back, gently cradling your head against his good shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my September 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Godless, Graceless, and Young by kiddle / @bluejeanlouis (110k)

Seattle, Washington, 1991

It takes a special breed to have a slacker persona and still be a millionaire rockstar. Harry is about halfway there. He's the guitarist in a Seattle grunge band that could finally be headed somewhere, but he's also been sleeping on his bassist's sofa for the last three months and has been fired from every day-job he's had. Money doesn't equal success, but it does pay the bills.

When a job offer and a new lead singer stumble into Harry's life, he might be getting a lot more than he bargained for. Like a couple of extra gigs and a boy who can teach him more than just how to mix a few drinks, and it's gonna take a few band brawls and a whole lot of heart-searching to get there.

He's gotta have one somewhere...

Coax the Cold by mediawhore / @mediawhorefics (86k)

England, 1897.  

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

Late Nights and Good Intentions by princelouisau / @princelouisau (71k)

“About last night,” Harry says suddenly, as if he’d been debating on whether to say anything. Louis whips back around to look at him.

“Do not finish that thought,” Louis says just as abruptly.

Harry looks at him oddly, as if assessing him. With a small frown, it seems the assessment is over. “I only wish to say that you do not have to dwell on it. The rest of the men will surely forget by tonight.”

“And you?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. “Will you forget?”

“I will remember every second of it fondly,” the Lord says, no trace of a tease in his words. or, a Victorian era au where Louis pines for his overprotective older brother’s very charming best friend.

For You, I Would Ruin Myself by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze (54k) WIP

It was the perfect last day of summer. They built sandcastles, wrote their names in the sand, and caught crabs, which they eventually let go when one of them pinched Louis and he was near tears. Afterward, they swam in the ocean, splashing each other playfully before moving toward one another in sync, lips pressing together in sweet kisses. When their skin turned prune-like, they returned to shore, laying out on their towels beneath the bright sun, snacking on fruit and chocolate while talking about everything and nothing.

At some point, Harry had shared, “I think this has been my favorite summer yet.”

“Why’s that?” Louis asked, a smile peeking out as though he already knew. He looked so pretty and cool with his sun-kissed skin and black Ray-Bans covering his eyes.

Harry rolled over on his towel until he was half-pressed against Louis and placed his palms on top of Louis’ chest, tucking his chin over them. “Because I had you.”

or

Harry’s unrequited crush on Louis turns into a whirlwind summer romance, only to leave him heartbroken in the end. Years later, a return to his hometown forces Harry to confront his past and the one person he was running from.

Tarnished but so Grand by tilthesundies / @tllthesundies (32k)

Louis hides in places. Harry always finds him.

I'll Be Your Love Tonight by dinosaursmate (20k)

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to walk away from you.” “So don’t.” Harry ran a fingertip over Louis’ thigh. “Stay with me.” - It's the summer of 1999 and Louis Tomlinson has been abandoned at a house party. A dispute over Smirnoff Ice and several night buses later, Louis is unsure how he'll ever walk away from this lovely, curly-haired boy.

Green in the Morning and Blue Afternoon by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze (14k)

“Harry,” Louis whispered beside him.

Harry hummed, his hand coming up to stroke Louis’ back. Louis was still on top of him, his body sagging against Harry’s, heavy and warm, and Harry loved it.

“I don’t think it was a one off.”

“Me either, Lou.”

or a Friends AU.

A Few of My Favourite Things by sweariwouldnt / @sweariwouldnt (8k)

Harry and Louis do cat sitting.

[jellyfishoreo1206]

Tending (Sebastian Solace x Reader)

Notes: I am enjoying this way too much, I have work to finish yet here I am making sure my children are fed.

Credit goes to @/cafekitsune for the borders!

Picking the harvest was probably one of your favorite things this season. The soft sounds of nature that surround the garden as the sun lays its gentle rays upon the earth while picking the fruits and veggies give your mind a wave of peace. 

It's absolutely lovely.

Lifting that straw hat upon your head, you swiped off the sweat and dirt that had built up during your time outside. There are still traces of summer well into September, despite the dawns and evenings filling with a slight chill. 

Jack Frost sure is taking his time, huh?

There's a sense of pride that fills your very being to the brim as you examine the juicy Brandywine and Roma tomatoes that fill the wicker basket in your hold—not a single blemish or bruise on them, all are perfect! And they seem to be a lot bigger this year than the previous.

A sign of luck, you like to think it. If this year's harvest is bountiful, then the year will be prosperous.

A saying a dear relative always repeated whenever you helped out in their garden.

With a huff, you will your legs to stand straight from your crouched position, several of your joints popping from being in such a crouched stature for so long, heading over to the shaded porch where Painter resided to trade the full wicker basket for an empty one. 

And maybe some water, too. Harvesting is time-consuming, and your throat is parched.

"Hey Paints," The basket made a heavy *THUD* causing some of the items on the table to make a small jump from the force, Painter's monitor and tablet being no exception, giving the AI a small startle.

"I'm painting here." With a hiss, their narrowed eyes fixed themselves onto your sweat-riddled frame. You merely gave an apologetic smile, snatching the basket you came for and backing off before the AI started insulting you in various languages. . .

Again.

~~~

Clip. Clip. Clip.

Large scaly fingers gently picked the green beans off the bustling bush they hung from with care to not accidentally crush them, the wicker basket set beside him steadily filling up with the surprisingly immense abundance of the green capsules. He could probably make some carbonda for dinner tonight. . .

It probably won't be on par with Mama's, pero quién sabe?

Hopefully there's enough potatoes ready. . .

A feeling of excitement fills him at the thought of making one of his favorite dishes that he ate with enjoyment growing up and sharing it with you, his favorite person.

He could already imagine your look of delight when you take your first bite of the soup, smiling wide with glee and eyes wide with surprise as you go for your second bite, little hums of delight escaping your lips as you savor the taste.

Readjusting the straw hat that was slowly falling off his head with one of his hands, and slightly pulling back on his esca—grabbing the basket with the second— Sebastian moves on to the next patch in need of harvesting once he deemed there was no more beans to pick anymore—slithering his way towards where the red-potatoes were growing, being mindful to not accidentally smush his tail on any of the plants.

A soft breeze passes by, gently swaying the plants and trees along with it. It also made Sebastian suddenly aware of the sweat clinging to his tank top and hair, grimacing at the uncomfortable feeling of sweat and cloth sticking to his torso.

Though Sebastian is no longer human, he still maintains some of his most annoying human traits.

"Damn this summer heat."

~~~

Painter got a bit tired of the heat, as it was unfortunately messing with their hardware. Nothing too serious, but you wish for your friend to be comfortable, so you placed them back inside by a fan and a window.

Well, now would probably be a good time to get some water.

Swinging open the screen door with your hip, you walk back into the garden refreshed and with a new mission in mind, with two ice-cold glasses of water in hand as you survey your surroundings to find where your lover is in the garden.

It doesn't take much looking, as you spot him slithering towards the back porch with a full basket as he fusses about with his shirt, frustrated mutters slipping out every so often the closer he gets.

With a smile, you call out to him, relishing in the way his head snaps up to meet your gaze, a look of tenderness overtaking his face once he approaches.

"Mi Amor~" Once he was close enough, he used his two free hands to wrap themselves around your waist, settling the basket full of harvest down on the table next to you—nuzzling his face into your hair as he breaths your scent in, the tension that was once present in his shoulders now ebbing away.

You could practically hear the loud purring resonating within his chest the longer he held you, the low vibrations resonating throughout your whole body.

Ah, your little fishy kitty.

Unfortunately, you don't wish to spill the water, so you push him back a few inches with your elbow—though his hands now rest upon your hips, rubbing small circles as he fixes you with a coy smile.

"Hi baby," Standing on the tips of your toes, you press a kiss against his cheek, letting out an exaggerated 'Muah!' before pulling away, handing him his glass, "-thought you would've wanted something cool to drink."

"It's much appreciated, my dear." With a grateful squeeze of his hands, he brings the glass to his lips as he downs the water quickly, Adam's apple bobbing with every swallow; the glass emptied in seconds as he lets out a sound of delight, his tail thumping softly at the wooden floor boards of the porch.

Placing the empty glass on the table beside you, he flashes you with that handsome smile you loved oh so very much, his sharp teeth adding to the charm. Oh GOD DAMN. You could feel the beat of your heart fluttering rapidly within your chest as you looked into his eyes, full of love and adoration.

Those very same eyes looking at you.

Is it getting hot out here, or is that just you?

"Thank you, Starfish. If I stayed any longer out here I probably would've dried up!" He jokes, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grins, adding to his gorgeous features.

. . .The sudden urge to smother him in kisses is very strong.

Quickly snapping out of your starstrucked spell, you replied with a joking tone as well, "Oh, you poor thing~!" With a playful pinch to his cheek, you give a gentle tug and wiggle before letting go, not without Sebastian sticking his tongue out in playful distaste.

"I'll make sure to water you if that ever happens," Embracing him once again, you nuzzle yourself the best you can into the crook of his neck, breathing in his citrus yet woody musk, "-my Little Froggit."

A few beats of silence pass by, before the both of you laughed aloud at the absurdity of words that has tumbled from your mouth. His shoulders are shaking as he attempts to shush his laugher, hand flying to his mouth to further contain them from slipping out, but it was no use. What felt like hours when it was merely seconds, the sound of laughter finally winded down—the both of you left breathless, only a quiet chuckle here and there could be heard as the atmosphere calmed around the two of you.

The two of you merely stood on the porch as you settled into comfortable quiet as your surroundings filled it with natures tune.

Seconds passed, eventually turning into minutes, then rolling into hours.

The sun hung low in the sky, making it through the last bit of his long trek down as it climbed lower and lower along the welkin, shadows elongating as the colors in the sky changed, the tune of the forest now changing as the sun dipped lower against the horizon—shining his last rays of light upon the soil of the earth before being overtaken by the moon and the stars.

The moon may not have been full this night, but she still showered the land below with her soft light as the woods became alive. The trees echoed with the sounds of the nocturnal, from the hauntingly beautiful howls of the wolves to the playful yips of the foxes. From within the trees, you could see the faint light of the fireflies luminescence bodies within the dark.

With a tired huff, you leaned more of your weight into Sebastian, sleep gently ebbing away at your brain as your eyelids drooped lower and lower. How long were we out here for? You try to think of when the two of you went out into the garden, but it seems to fade away as your mind slowly turns sluggish; craving a long needed rest.

"Tired?" Sebastian voice seems to be a lot closer to your ear, a pleasant warmth filling your mind as if you ate the smoothest of ambrosia and the sweetest of honey, nudging you closer to the land of dreams.

"Mhm. . ."

"Let's get you to bed, yeah?" The sound of movement met your ears as the floor below you disappears, now cradled within his arms as he sneaks into the house.

"But we haven't ate yet. . . or showered" You mumbled a protest as a yawn interrupts your sentence mid-way, attempting to climb out of his arms, but to no avail as he merely held you closer to his chest.

"I'll wake you up to make sure you eat and shower. Okay?"

". . .Mkay."

"Good,"He opens the door to your shared room, "-now let's get you ready for bed." Sebastian places you on the large bed with care as he slithers over to the dresser, picking out a pair of sweats and one of your favorite sleeping shirts before coming back to the bed. With some trouble, he helps peels off your dirty clothes, then handing you the clean ones before tucking you in bed.

Everything is hazy, your eyes are barely open. Your body feels so heavy with exhaustion, muttering out a small 'love you', to your lover before sleep finally took over. Transporting you to the land of dreams.

"Sleep well, cariño." With a kiss to your head, Sebastian slips out the bedroom with caution, carefully closing the door shut once the last bit of his tail makes it through. He listens to any shuffling from your side of the door, and relaxes when he doesn't hear any, only your breathing.

Now, let's make carbonda, shall we?

Last Part, Next Part (?)

[miyx-amour]

okay but listen to this

Jake pulling the car over to finger the shit out of your cunt cause you began palming his cock while he was driving 😭

i was gonna answer later but i couldn’t wait

the whole ride back from your date was eerily quiet

as it was around 2 in the morning

both of you being pretty tired as your long lashes flutter to the sound of the pleasant rain

but the car wasn’t the only thing getting wet

jake looked so fine in his fresh button up shirt with the top two buttons undone

jake also had you under a chokehold with his astonishing visuals

but tonight he had you in cosmic rays (???)

you couldn’t resist but touch him

he lets out a low whimper at the sudden touch from your soft silky hand

he glances at you

you know that look

the look that he’s telling you to stop

but do you stop

of course not

you need him

he needs you

you harden your grip on his throbbing cock

he’s trying so hard not to kiss you as it would cost your lives

“i need you baby, please” you moan

“fuck” he curses under his breath

he pulls into the nearest empty parking lot he knows off

“get in the back” he demands

you don’t hesitate and follow his command

“you think you’re so cute touching me while i’m driving, huh?” …

“i asked a fucking question, slut, now answer” he hissed

“n-no”

“mmmhhh, are you sure?”

“y-yes” you say whimpering

“liar” he says leaving a slap across your face

he’s had enough of your bullshit knowing you’ll defend yourself

he kisses you soft plump lips to shut you up before you say all you’re bullshit

his hands trace your curved outline down to the hem of your sparkly dress

jake slowly lifts up your dress leaving you in his favourite matching set of black undergarments

“holy fuck” he curses

his slender fingers push your panties to the side as he teases your dripping cunt

you moan at his firm touch

without warning he shoves his fingers deep into your cunt as you arch your back at the pleasure

“mmm, f-fuck, jake” you cry

his free hand moves to your throat making your shining hazel eyes roll back

“you wanted this, didn’t you?” he asks while planting a kiss on your neck

“s-shit, yes” you answer

jake fastens his pace as you squirm under his grip

you feel a knot in your stomach form

“j-jake, mmm, i’m gonna c-cum” you cry

“go for it baby”

you let out a loud and porn like moan as you roll your eyes back releasing on jake’s fingers

he takes a small lick tasting your sweetness then shoving his cum painted fingers down your pretty throat

“just like that babygirl” he praises