#Robs sharp ass heel

[imthursdaysyme]

Sleepover shenanigans

[hihomeghere]

Nightwing | Diego Hargreeves/reader

Word Count : 4k Summary : You try to keep Diego Hargreeves off your mind, especially after your break up. But after he breaks into your apartment begging you to patch him up. All the good and bad memories come flooding back. (this is my first time writing for Diego so please be nice) Warnings/tags : Smut, cursing, hospital setting, reader is a nurse, mentions of blood, wounds, and bullets. (I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters)

You rubbed your eyes, getting used to the darkness your bedroom was shrouded in. Bleary eyed you reached blindly for the vibrating phone on your nightstand, the culprit for so rudely waking you up. You groaned, slamming your phone back down as you read the contact name.

The words Do Not Answer, glowed on your Lock Screen in the dim lit room. Diego Hargreeves. 

It was too fucking late for him to be calling you. There was no way you’d be playing nurse for him anymore, especially on one of your only nights off.

Instead you sat awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling while your phone finally stopped buzzing. Well at least he was smart enough not to call you back. Accepting the fact that you would not be falling back asleep you got up. Slipping your feet into your fuzzy slippers you padded down the hall into your kitchen. You flipped on the overhead oven light, before grabbing your bread bag. You popped two pieces of bread in your toaster. You leaned up against your counter trying to get a certain Hargreeves off your mind. This whole situation started a little over a year ago, on one of your shifts.

-

You leaned against the cool brick wall of the hospital, the cold air seeping through your scrubs. You rubbed your arms, trying to warm up. You had forgotten your coat before going on your break and you knew the second you stepped back in the break room you’d get a call.

So here you were, freezing your ass off behind the back of the hospital. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, swiping through Facebook. Not that anyone was posting anything, after all it was close to 2am. You let out a deep breath, watching your hot breath drift up in front of your face. You chuckled to yourself, puffing out hot air.

“What are you 10?” A deep voice groaned from your left. You jumped, your hand covering your wildly beating heart.

“I don’t have any money,” You said quickly, raising your hands, “please I’m on my break. I don’t even have my freaking coat.” You said nervously, backing up against the wall.

“I’m not gonna rob you.” The man said as he limped out into the light. He was obviously hurt, his hand pressing against his side. Blood stained his hand, as he gave you a sideways smile.

“Damn it.” You sighed, before you rushed towards him. “You know there’s an emergency room for a reason right?” You said as you started to pull his sweater up, slowly unsticking it from his skin. He hissed, squeezing his eyes close. 

“Yeah, well I’m trying to keep a low profile.” He grunted, shifting to offer you a better angle for looking at the wound in his side. 

“What’s with the mask, nightwing?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked over the wound. He let out a laugh before taking a sharp inhale as your fingers grazed the bullet hole. “Well you’re in luck, it’s only a graze. Although it looks like a bullet wound, want to explain that?” You said sitting back on your heels.

“Like I said, low profile.” He smirked again, you only shook your head.

“Well, there isn’t much I can do out here under these lights.” You said pointing above you, “Lucky for you I can get you in the back, all low profile like.” You teased getting to your feet.

“My hero.” You turned toward the back door, pulling out your keycard. You swiped your keycard, the red light turning green. You pushed open the door, waving the man in.

“I’m Y/n, by the way.” You said walking him down the hall, you pulled over a spare bed, patting it.

“Nice to meet you.” He groaned as he sat down on the bed. You peeled his sweater off of his side, he grabbed it holding it up for you.

“Alright you stay here, and I’ll be right back.” You said giving him a small smile before running to get your gloves, needles, surgical thread, and some antiseptic. You ran back, narrowly avoiding your coworkers. 

“There you are doc,” He said leaning back, he was lucky he didn’t get a straight gut shot. 

“Just a nurse.” You reminded him with a smile. You began laying out your tools, he took in a sharp breath turning his head. “Hey, are you alright?” You asked, laying your hand on his shoulder.

“Yep. Yep. Just uh-“ He shook his head, “can’t do needles.” Your furrowed your brows.

“So a bullet wound is just fine but needles are the shit that freaks you out?” You said as you began to clean the graze. He hissed again, his hard body tensing under your fingers.

“Does that ruin the whole mysterious vigilante thing?” He asked, his eyes fixated on the ceiling. You laughed, shaking your head.

“No, you’re still very cool and mysterious.” You chuckled as you began to suture his wound. He barely moved under your hands, only wincing now and again. Once you were finished you took off your gloves, throwing them away in the trash. You patted his leg, “Alright nightwing, you’re all done. But you’ll have to come back to get your stitches taken out.” He nodded getting off of the bed.

“Thank you,” He smiled at you as you walked him to the back door.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled as well, pushing open the door. He stepped into the cold air, “Come back in two weeks, alright?” You called after him.

“Whatever you say doc.” He said walking into the darkness.

After that night you would normally see Mr. Vigilante whenever he had an injury he couldn’t just put a bandaid over and call it good. He always seemed to take care of them once you had patched him up. 

“I came here the other night.” He said as you tied off a new cut on his calf, “You must not have been working. Had to go crawling to my mom.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Probably gave her a heart attack.” You said, raising your eyebrows, “Is she a nurse?” You asked standing up.

“Um,” He paused, choosing his next words carefully, “no, but she used to patch me up when I was a kid.” He shrugged, rolling his pant legs back down.

“Oh so this Evel Knievel stuff started long ago.” You laughed putting your hands on your hips.

“You could say that.” He smirked, nodding his head. You fought with yourself for a moment, if you weren’t working you were at home. You could always give him your number. A quick text would let him know if you were working or not. But then you’d also be telling him your address if you weren’t working. Telling him your address wasn’t like giving him a key. He could just stop by your place if you weren’t working, to avoid giving his poor mother a heart attack. 

“You know, you could always text me to see if I'm working or not. It would save you a trip if I wasn’t.” You said looking down at your white sneakers.

“A little forward, don’t you think?” He chuckled, crossing his arms.

“Alright, just make sure you don’t bleed out before you reach your mommy’s house.” You said nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders as you turned away from him. He reached out, his hand wrapping around your forearm as he pulled you back to face him.

“Alright alright, you’ve twisted my arm. Give me your phone.” He said, rolling his eyes, his hand out in front of you.

“Talk about being forward.” You laughed while handing over your phone. He put his number in, while you stood in front of him. He handed it back to you, crossing his arms.

“Diego?” You asked, reading his contact name.

“Can’t have you calling me nightwing anymore.” He shrugged as he got to his feet. You walked him to the back door, as you always did. Watching as he walked away from the hospital.

“I’ll see you Diego.” You called, his name rolling off your tongue.

“See ya, doc.” He called over his shoulder before being enveloped by the darkness. 

-

You jumped slightly as your toast popped out of the toaster. You set the bread down on your plate, slathering them with butter. You walked into your living room, plopping down on your leather couch. 

There was a knock on your window, you groaned. That asshole wouldn’t come here. You stood up turning to your window, only to be face to face with Diego. His mask was gone, and his lip was bloody. He pointed down at the lock on the window, mouthing please through the glass.

You stomped over to the window, flipping the lock before you pulled up open the window.

“You have a lot of fucking nerve coming here.” You huffed, clenching your fists at your sides.

“C’mon baby.” He whispered, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Don’t.” You hissed, shaking your head. “Just get inside before someone sees you.” You said walking back into your kitchen. He followed you like a lost puppy, hanging his head as he leaned on your kitchen counter. 

You hated how well he fit in your home. Like he still belonged here, even after everything he had said.

Pushing those thoughts away you pulled your first aid kit out from under the sink. Laying out your tools on the counter next to Diego. 

“What is it, other than that busted lip.” You huffed, rolling your eyes. 

“You weren’t answering my calls” He said looking up at you through his full eyelashes.

“Why would I?” You said turning away from him. Having him in your kitchen was almost too painful, bringing back too many good memories.

-

Your phone buzzed next to you, you picked it up reading Diego’s text message.

You jumped up from your couch rushing to grab your medical kit. It was a normal occurrence for him to come crashing into your apartment late at night. Only for you to patch him up under your kitchen lights. You started laying your tools out on your kitchen counter. Before you rushed over to your sink, washing your hands and your upper arms. 

Diego crashed through your window, landing on the rug below it. He slowly got to his feet as you rushed to meet him.

“Are you alright?” You asked, your heart beating out of your chest. He raised his head, his eyebrows were knitted together as he put a hand over his chest. “Diego what is it?” Your anxiety was through the roof, he was never this quiet. Although you couldn’t see any obvious injuries. 

“Doc,” He started, his warm hand enveloping your wrist. Your breath caught in your throat as his other hand tilted your chin up.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“It’s my heart, doc.” He said, a grin spreading across his face, “You gotta fix it for me.” You searched his face, your furrowed eyebrows relaxing as you snorted.

“How long have you been waiting to use that one?” You laughed, your anxiety leaving your body through your giggles. 

“A while actually.” He chuckled, cupping your face. His eyes searched for any resistance to his advances. You raised your hand, softly tracing over his scar. You could now cross that off your bucket list. You breathed in each other’s essence in your small kitchen, your slippers scuffing against the linoleum floor.

“Are you gonna fix it?” He whispered, even though it was only you two.

“What?” You asked as his hands moved from your face to your hips.

“My heart?” He said a coy smile on his face. You pulled him into a kiss, your fingers threading through his hair. His lips were soft against yours, softer than you imagined and so warm. You could feel him smile into the kiss, you could almost curl your toes at the sensation. You pulled away staring into his deep brown eyes. 

“How’d you rate the pain?” You asked, laying your hand over his heart.

“I think I need some more medicine, doc.” He said nosing against your cheek, laying a kiss against the corner of your lips.

“I think I can do that.” You chuckled, pulling him into another kiss. You tugged lightly on his hair, pulling a groan out of him. You slowly walked backwards, pulling him along with you. Diego followed you into your bedroom, your legs collided with your bed. You fell back, Diego caging you between his arms. You moved your hands under his sweater, feeling his lean abs under your fingers. He grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head discarding it behind him. You traced over his scars, studying his body without having to patch him up.

“Hey, my turn.” He smirked, pinning your wrists above your head. He grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your breasts. You shivered as the cold air hit your chest, your nipples hardening. He flashed you a devilish smile before taking one of your tits in his mouth. He sucked and nipped, while his other hand pinched your nipple. You bucked against his mouth, squirming under his grasp.

He pulled back, tugging your shirt over your head. You shimmied out of your cotton shorts and panties. Leaving yourself completely bare under him. 

“Hello nurse.” He grinned, taking in your body. He ran his hands down your hips before swiping his finger through your folds. He slowly pushed a finger inside you, chuckling as you let out a moan. He started pumping his digits, curling them inside. You whined as he pulled them out, he moaned as he sucked them clean. He stood up, kicking off his pants and underwear before joining you on the bed. 

He fisted his cock in his hand, pumping his shaft a couple times before lining the head up with your opening. He looked up at you before slowly pushing in. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his soft flesh. He didn’t seem to mind as his eyes rolled back into his head as he bottomed out. He was bigger than you imagined, his tip all but kissing your cervix. 

“Move Diego please.” You whined, blinking away the tears of pleasure welling up in your eyes. He grinned before he started moving his hips. He began a slow grind into your cunt, his pubic hair rubbing against your clit. Going slow enough to get you teetering on the edge, his mouth attached to neck. “Please Diego!” You cried, wrapping your legs around his hips trying to get more friction between the two of you. 

“What do you want, baby?” He chuckled darkly, you could feel it through his chest more than you could hear it. 

“More, please” You whined. He suddenly snapped his hips against yours, pulling all the way out before slamming back into you. It was enough to cause your orgasm to come crashing down. You spasmed against him, your body going limp as you swore you saw white. A constant mantra of Diego’s name fell out of your mouth as he pounded into you. A bead of sweat fell from his chest down the valley of your breasts. 

His thrusts started getting sloppy as he tightened his grip on your hips, pulling them against his own. He let out a groan as he came, thick ropes of cum spilling inside you as his cock twitched. He fell on top of you, breathing hard against your neck. You wrapped your arms around him, breathing him in.

“How’s your heart?” You asked, he chuckled before propping himself up on his arm.

“Never better, doc.” 

-

Since that night you were inseparable, if you weren’t at work you were with him. Whether that be at your place or his. The last eight months were the best of your life. You were utterly content with your relationship with Diego, you should have known something would go wrong. 

You headed into the gym, balancing your takeout boxes as you walked down the hall to Diego’s place. It was late, and you had just gotten off a long shift. You were looking forward to eating some take out and watching shitty movies on his shitty couch. Instead, you could hear arguing coming from the other side of his door.

“Absolutely not, now you need to leave before she gets here.” Diego said from the other side of the door.

“Who is this mystery woman you’re always talking about? ‘Oh Klaus, no you can’t meet her.’ ‘She’s different than the others.’ Blah, blah, blah. Just put on your big girl panties and introduce me!” The man replied. 

“No way. Now let’s go.” The door opened in front of you, you were face to face with Diego and another man. He had short curly brown hair, his shirt was unbuttoned, and he had the prettiest green eyes you had ever seen.

“Y/n.” Diego’s face fell as he laid his eyes on you. The man beside him gasped as he turned back to Diego.

“Is this her?” He asked, a grin spreading across his face.

“Diego, who is this?” You asked, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“I’m Klaus, his brother.” Klaus said, sticking out his hand. You took it, giving him a warm smile. You didn’t know Diego had a brother.

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you!” You said before turning to look back at Diego. “Diego didn’t tell me he had a brother.”

“More like four.” Klaus scoffed, throwing an arm around Diego’s shoulder. Four brothers? “And not counting our two sisters.” Klaus added as you turned back to him with wide eyes. Six siblings that he had just forgotten to mention? Diego shrugged Klaus's arm off of his shoulder, glaring daggers at him.

“Well Klaus was just leaving.” Diego said, clenching his jaw.

“Diego.” You scolded.

“Oh well, you know how these Hargreeves are.” Klaus smiled turning to you, the closer he got you noticed how he reeked of alcohol. Although you felt extremely sober. Hargreeves. Like the umbrella academy, Hargreeves? Klaus walked back down the hall, talking to someone who wasn’t there. 

“Hargreeves?” You asked, turning to look at him. He sighed looking down at the ground. “Like the umbrella academy, Hargreeves?” Diego turned and walked back inside his studio. Taking two stairs at a time to put as much distance between the two of you. You were hot on his heels, you set down the take out boxes before turning to face him. He had his arms crossed over his chest, looking off to the side. “Well?” You asked impatiently.

“Well it’s not like you asked!” He said his shoulders rising.

“What, next are you gonna tell me that the Alison Hargreeves is one of your sisters?” You laughed humorlessly. He bit his lip, turning away from you. “Unbelievable.” You said, shaking your head.

“You know this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.” He said suddenly turning on you, “Cause I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

“Oh I can handle it.” You scoffed taking a step away from him, “What I can’t handle is you keeping something like this from me. God I’m so stupid I should have put it together. All that vigilante shit.” You said rubbing the bridge of your nose. 

“Well now you know.” He huffed, clenching his jaw. 

“That doesn’t make it any better! We’re supposed to tell each other everything.” You said throwing up your hands.

“Don’t give me that shit. You were perfectly fine being in the dark before this. You didn’t even ask for my name before you were inviting me over to your place.” He spit, a cocky smile on his lips.

“Diego, that's not fair.” You said, hating how your lower lip trembled.

“No, what's not fair is you expecting me to get down on one knee when we’ve known each other for what, a year? You want me to take you home to meet mom and pops?” A tear slipped down your cheek, you wanted to run. Backed in a corner while Diego paced. Your feet felt glued to the floor in a place you had thought of as your second home.

“Diego…” You said softly, blinking back your tears.

“You know maybe you should go.” He huffed, clenching his jaw. “I think this-“ he motioned between the two of you, “has gone on long enough anyway. It was never going to last.” He crossed his arms looking away from you. You felt your heart break in your chest. You swallowed thickly, your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“If that’s what you want.” You said biting the inside of your cheek.

“It is.” He said, looking at the door and then back at you. You quickly turned, running up the stairs and out of the studio. You slammed the door behind you, your sneakers squeaking against the gym floor. You pushed open the metal door, speed walking to your car. Once inside you broke down, sobs wracking your body. You allowed yourself to feel everything, waiting until the tears had subsided before you turned on your car. 

You were about a block away from your apartment when the anger hit.

-

And the anger had stayed, it was a poor mask for your pain, you knew that. You also knew if you weren’t angry you would break. That anger fueled you, it’s not your fault that Diego was afraid of commitment. Was part of this your fault, maybe. Maybe you should have demanded more from him before getting so deep. 

Now he was here, asking for your help. A stupid busted lip that he could have taken care of himself. 

“I wanted to apologize.” He said, making you stop in your tracks.

“Then do it.” You said coolly, crossing your arms.

“Look, I'm sorry.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just- Klaus freaked me out and I just didn’t want you finding out about the umbrella academy from him.” He said leaning back on your counter.

“Well then maybe you should have told me sooner.” You snapped, glaring at him. “I never pushed you for anything Diego, never. I understand that the academy is a sore subject, but that’s not my fault.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders. 

“I know that-“ He said, holding up his hand. You raised your eyebrows, “You’re right. You’re always right.” He said, hanging his head. It did give you some satisfaction to see him all but begging on his knees for your forgiveness. But you needed more.

“No you’re right Diego,” his head shot up, his eyes meeting yours with a confused expression, “ I was fine with being in the dark. But I’m not fine with it anymore. I want your everything.” You said as you bit your lip, hugging your arms tight around your body. 

“Shit- I want that too.” He stepped forward, his hand lightly touching your arm.

“Then stop being such a pussy.” You teased, a small smile pulling on your lips. He snickered, pulling you into his chest. You wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing him in. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, swaying slightly with you in his arms. 

“Do you want to meet my mom?” He whispered, you pulled away looking at him.

“Are you sure?” You asked, your hand coming up to cup his cheek.

“You’re the one who said not to be a pussy.” He said with a nervous laugh.

“If you’re ready for that, then sure. I’d love to meet your mom.” You smiled, he leaned down softly kissing you. He pulled away with a hiss as soon as your lips touched.

“Forgot about that.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Let’s clean that lip first alright, nightwing?” You teased, lightly patting his chest.

“Whatever you say, doc.”

[roszabell]

Hetalia on America's Next Top Model

my headcanons w the characters i immediately thought of for how they would do on the show, this is wildly useless and niche but i'm a geek for it ( i got two people saying i should post this again and ily, lmk if i should do a part 2 / please suggest characters 👀 )

Elizabeta, top challenge winner, they probably do her so dirty in her makeover and turn her blonde, that one girl that has a partner back home and is ACTUALLY LOYAL, never starts fights with gilbert but always finishes them, kind of the unofficial house leader, tyra always highlights her muscles, really versatile for shoots, probably calls at least three photographers misogynistic, falls on the runway bc of heels but the quick recovery saves her that round

Mathieu is the like adorable 17 year old amateur that tyra found on the street, has the shittiest runway walk ever, big and awkward with his body (but tyra is obsessed with his ass and natural booty tooching lol), jock-type photos, wins best photo 2-3 times but is always in the bottom of challenges, panel constantly tells him that he needs to believe in himself more, "i just really don’t want to let tyra down TwT"

Francis is also often the challenge winner bc he’s literally down with doing anything (wink), basically adopts mathieu loves braiding his hair during downtime/behind the scenes and always chooses him for the tyra suite whenever he wins best photo, panel criticizes him for always falling back on being ‘too sexy’ in shoots and he’s not very versatile, gets in trouble for flirting with photographers, is the mom of the house and always cooks for everyone, invested in all the drama

Arthur, hes adored, the panel won’t shut up about his "high-fashion look," he scrapes by every week just by his social media scores bc of his devoted fan following, given a lip piercing n undercut for his makeover, (and the eyebrows STAY bc it’s High Fashion), constantly has beef with brianboy bc he’s a stubborn asshole during shoots , definitely makes it to Top 3 despite such high elimination risk bc of the attitude

Gilbert, the token Unique model due to his albinism, thinks he’s the shit but tbh hes always in bottom two, starts most of the drama in the house, has an insanely  badass runway walk its seriously so cunty, is probably given a complete buzz cut for his makeover and won’t shut up about it (but secretly is really insecure),  sharp features and best smize ever, but rob evans always says he relies too much on his muscles n sucks at Head to Toe modeling

Katya is BEST GIRL in the house, the token Curvy one they always praise for representation but is probably cut in like round three because of the actual fatphobia, everyone cries so hard when she leaves, has a really classic vibe, is seen as innocent but takes really fierce photos, really close to her family at home (leans on sob stories), shes the one that returns and gets back in the game when theres a Comeback episode

Michelle brings all the fun, high spirits lighten the tension for shoots and takes really bubbly energetic photos, amazing pout and expressive eyes, smoothest runway walk like she’s floating, everyone’s friend in the house but is secretly so fucking cutthroat competitive in her asides, cutesy aesthetic despite her age, is constantly criticized because she can’t pull off serious shoots, probs makes it to Top 3

[polutrope]

9, 19, 20 for the smut asks!

Thank you for the ask!

9. How did you learn to write smut? Were there specific fics or authors that inspired you? Or novels/movies/other texts?

Three ways I can think of!

Reading, reading, reading! I have legit copy-pasted smutfics I really liked into a Google doc to pick apart why. I have done this with one of yours ajfkhdjk.

Getting betas and concrit from a range of people on the all-important question: Is This Hot?

Reading articles with tips on smut writing, articles on sexual health websites, sexual health forums (esp for firsthand testimonials on the gay sex), and sometimes even dry-ass (lol) articles on anatomy.

19. Share a favorite passage from one of your smut fics.

Below the cut time!

I find the juxtaposition of humour and smut to be an absolute sensory delight. The whole Elwing/Maglor fucking scene from Everlasting Darkness is so hot AND funny to me. Uhh this was hard to cut down, I am sorry it's long.

"Aah, Elwing!” he cried, watching her swollen breasts bounce with the motion of her body. “Aahh, you are stunning.” “Get up,” she demanded, and snapped her neck down to snarl at him. “Get up and take me on your lap.” Maglor sprang up to a seated position, holding her firmly against him. He crossed his legs and she wrapped hers around him. “Mmmph,” she moaned, grabbing his face between her hands and kissing him hard. She rolled her hips and seated him deep inside her, even as her tongue, thick and eager, sought out his. Her back arched, pushing her breasts closer so that the hard peaks of her nipples chafed against him. “Fuck me,” she breathed against his lips and took the lower one between her teeth. “Show me how good you can be, Maglor. Show me how much you regret everything you’ve ever done.” He growled with delight and grabbed her hips in both hands, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her buttocks, and lifted her over his lap. Up and down, up and down, urged on by the expression of pure bliss that overtook her. His arms burned with the effort, but she began to shout in short, sharp bursts, so he uncrossed his feet and dug his heels into the bed, lifting her harder and faster. Oh that he could release his own pent need! He was so swollen, so hard, but he was determined to give her the best she’d ever had. She hooked an arm around his shoulders, bringing her face close and panting hotly on his lips. Her pale irises were nearly swallowed by the blackness of her pupils. “Make me come,” she said. “Yes,” said Maglor, “yes, Elwing, starlight, glittering, I will make you come again and again and again, for every time I ever wronged you or your–” “Shut up and fuck me,” said Elwing. She robbed him of any possibility of defying her first command by smothering him in a deep and searching kiss, biting and sucking at his lips. Her nails clung to his back like talons. He bucked beneath her once, twice, thrice, and moved a hand from her hips to grope and pinch at one nipple and then the other. A pulse of wetness spilt around his shaft, and she shuddered and clenched down around him. She tore her mouth from his and screamed, and bucked, and screamed again. With skilled hands skittering over her body, he coaxed higher and wilder notes from her until, at last, she collapsed against his shoulder.

20. Share a summary of, or excerpt from, an unpublished smut fic.

This is Amarie and Maglor's Spouse making fun of their fiances fucking, while fucking. (Oloste is a trans woman).

“I will play music upon your cock, Ingo.” Oloste tickled the front of Amarie’s braies. “Oh Cáno, please,” she switched into the voice of Findaráto, “play me, play me, play me! Make a symphony of my pleasure.” “He would not say that,” Amarie protested meekly, rolling into Oloste’s hand. “Mm, perhaps not.” Oloste nuzzled Amarie’s neck, raising bumps over her skin with the scrape of her teeth. “But he would think it.” Amarie’s mouth was split open, half-gasping, half-laughing, as Oloste hoisted her hips up onto the dresser. The Noldo was tall — taller than Macalaurë, and practically towering over Amarie’s petite frame. But with Amarie positioned on the furniture like this, they could see eye-to-eye, and meet hip-to-hip. Oloste ground her pelvis between Amarie’s thighs. Amarie gasped. She could feel the pulse of the other woman’s arousal, growing harder against her.

[manybcdthings]

Hunter had seen his share of bad days. But this? This ranked pretty high on his all time list of fucky moments. Stabbed, robbed, and then standing in an alleyway, jamming a plasma knife into his side to stop the bleeding, all while B kept running her mouth. His vision swam, the world a blur of shapes and shadows, forcing him to stagger forward much slower than he'd have liked. "Jesus fucking Christ!" he eventually snapped, his voice hoarse, barely more than a growl. "The fact I just got stabbed ain't enough for ya, huh? You gotta stab my goddamn ears too?" his hand pressed hard against his burned wound, the smell a grim reminder of how much worse things could get. But, that wasn't the point. "I swear, I got half a mind to just slice my own fuckin' neck open so I don't have to hear you no more!" his attempt at a threatening tone fell flat, more wheeze than roar, but the frustration was real.

"Broke ass?" Hunter coughed, offended and shooting B a hardened glare. He waved a hand at her, his grip shaky, trying to muster some dignity. "I've seen the shit you do for some rats, B. Don't fuckin' go there with me." he grumbled, a part of him expecting a physical retaliation, because he had been slapped in the face a few times by her. He couldn't even remember how the constant back-and-forth between them had started, only that it never seemed to end. She knew how to push his buttons, and evidently, he did the same to her. When she tossed the pack of cigarettes, she made sure he had to stretch to catch them, an act that nearly doubled him over with pain. He shot her a look, half grimace, half glare, as he ripped the pack open like it had personally offended him. "Fuck you. I was just sayin'..."

His own grunt cut off his words, Hunter slowing his pace even more, the weight of his steps dragging. "Don't go runnin' to me later askin' for somethin' 'cause of this. Jesus." he stopped dead in his tracks, one hand clutching his side, the other already fumbling to get a cigarette to his mouth. "Just gimme a fuckin' minute." the words came out rough as he flopped back against the metal shutters of a closed storefront. They rattled under his weight, making too much noise for his liking, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Snatching the lighter from her hand, Hunter sparked up his cigarette, dragging deep, the nicotine sharp and acrid on his tongue. For a brief second, he allowed himself the distraction, eyes closing against the pain.

But her last comment brought him snapping back to reality, his gaze locking onto her with a glare. "How the fuck you gonna carry me?" he barked, his voice louder now, fueled by indignation but also disbelief at her own stubbornness. He gestured wildly at her with his cigarette hand. "Look atcha" he pointed at her small frame, her ridiculous heels. "Your ankles would snap. You got chicken legs, B. Shut the fuck up." Hunter snapped, but soon let silence settle between the two of them, continuing to smoke and take deeper inhales. All the while, he avoided looking at her before a slight slump lowered his shoulders. "God Damn, I don't feel too good." the admission was quiet, still rough and annoyed.

after years of hearing men talk, bianca has developed a particular skill. their voices slip into background noise with ease, and hunter's is no exception. he's standing there, bleeding out, and all she can hear is blah blah blah. it's almost comical, except for the blood. her eyes are locked on the gash, the angry red spilling out, while his mouth keeps moving like none of it's happening. 'why did i even bother.' she mutters under her breath, confusion pulling at her brow as she stares at his defiant face. 'are you a psychopath? you have to do something! let me take you to mara!' her voice sharpens, edged with worry, as she tries to snap him out of whatever macho trance he's in. but they were famous last words, because when the sizzling of the plasma knife stops, she swears she can still smell the burning flesh.

for a brief moment, in the silence, bianca thinks he might die. worry rising in her as she wonders how the fuck she's going to haul a slab of white meat to mara. but hunter practically awakens himself, purely to hear the sound of his own voice again. as if insulting her is the one thing that stops him from slipping to the other side. 'oh my god, you're still fucking talking?' bianca snaps, louder this time, his voice cutting back into her awareness like nails on a chalkboard. but she's relieved when he finally starts hobbling toward the clinic, her sharp point of a finger directing him like she's rounding up a naughty school boy.

'i don’t want your fucking rats, broke ass.' she lets out a bitter laugh, mocking, but her eyes drop to his feet to ensure he's still dragging himself along the street. 'you think i’m gonna come to you for help after this? what can you even help me with?' her laughter bubbles up again, and then the peaceful silence drops over them. it does nothing to quell her concern for hunter, though she won't admit it. she simply isn't someone to let another person bleed out in front of her. though, a small voice reminds her that he technically dealt with it. she didn't have to urge him to the clinic. he uses chris's skills a lot, it's money. she tells herself.

his slow pace grates on her, but she bites down on her tongue, reminding herself he just cauterized his own damn wound. when he asks for cigarettes, though, she shoots him a look sharp enough to cut glass. she doesn't say anything, his demand is clear, but her glare speaks volumes. begrudgingly, she pulls a pack from her bra, tossing it toward him with lazy aim, just enough to make him reach. 'catch,' she says in a flat quip, her tone as dry as her patience. then she grabs her lighter from the other side of her bra, but this time she offers it out to him without making him stretch to catch it. a few more moments of silence and a slight grin twitches over bianca's lips. 'so...if i had a cock, you woulda let me try and carry you to mara? is that what all that was about?'

[subbykboys]

new to this | taeyong

↳ pairing : virgin!taeyong x reader

Genre ➞ pure smut oof

Warnings ➞ sub!taeyong, corruption kink, begging, mild degrading, handjob, fingering (m. receiving), public-ish(?), mild choking, running into walls

Word Count ➞ 8.3k

requested by @ninachocoo

posted ; 3.08.21

Hot. God, it was so hot. 

Then again, summer in your part of town always was. But this heat— this heat was different. It surrounded you, pulling perspiration from your pores and clinging to you persistently. It spilled down your throat, filling your lungs with every deep inhale. It robbed you of any and all of your energy, leaving you too tired to rouse yourself from where you lay on the cool tile floor of your kitchen in front of the open fridge (the absolute coldest spot you could find in your entire house). 

You didn’t cope very well in warm weather, if that wasn’t obvious. 

And, at the cost of your poor housemate’s sanity, you always found new and creative ways to cope with the excruciating rise in temperature, 

“Y/n a few of my— how many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?!” You couldn’t bring yourself to so much as flinch as the fridge door was abruptly slammed shut, only managing to pull a whining complaint from the back of your throat as your only source of cool air was ever so rudely ripped away. 

“Fuck you, Mark. It’s too fucking hot to worry about the stupid electricity bill.” You huffed, peeling your eyes open just long enough to shoot an icy glare in the direction of the scowling brunette. 

He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, lower lip jutting out. “I think you forget that it’s a combination of both of our money going into paying them, so I think that I have a right to worry about how much is coming out of my pocket because you think that laying in front of an open fridge is a good way to ‘beat the heat’.” 

“Offer me a better solution, I’m open to suggestions.” You sighed tiredly. 

He only rolled his eyes. 

“Oh! I’ve got one,” you exclaimed suddenly, clapping your hands together as a gasp of excitement flew from your lips, “How about I just strip down and walk around butt ass naked? That should do the trick! Oh… but little Mark would like that a little too much, wouldn’t he?” You offered him a taunting pout, feigning sympathy as you glanced down unabashedly towards his crotch. 

Instinctively, his hands flew to cover himself as his cheeks throbbed a devastatingly obvious shade of red, bright enough to rival even the ripest of tomatoes. “Y–you—” 

Your lips curled with an amused smirk, but it faltered at the sound of thundering laughter coming from behind your flustered housemate. Your eyes followed the sound, finding its source in a group of about five or so men crowding up the foyer. Brows lifting in mild surprise, you shifted your attention back to an even more humiliated looking Mark. 

“You brought company.” An apology hung at the tip of your tongue. You really tried to keep your pg-13 teasing to a minimum around other people, especially knowing how susceptible Mark could be to his own embarrassment. 

“Hey Mark, I thought you said your roommate was a raging asshole with the sex drive of a teenaged boy on viagra? She seems pretty cool to me! And hot.” One of the taller boys chimed, a massive dopey grin plastered across his face. 

You turned to Mark slowly, brows raised. But he wouldn’t meet your eyes, head lowered. He wasn’t good at hiding his guilt. 

Welp. No apology for ole Marky boy today. 

“Please, allow me to properly introduce myself to our company.” Mark's eyebrows jumped all the way to his hairline as you pushed yourself off the floor and tossed an arm around his shoulder. “My name is (y/n), but I suppose Mark's asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra could work, too.” 

The look you shot him out of the corner of your eye had him shrinking in on himself, regret shining in his big brown eyes. But, you ruffled his hair, a silent reassurance that you weren’t all that torn up about the comment, especially considering it was hard to deny the layer of truth that lingered within it. 

You’d probably subjected Mark to more than his fair share of sleepless nights while you were up into the early morning giving the man (or woman) of the night the experience of a lifetime. A few scathing comments to close friends was more than understandable when looked upon in that light. Besides, you were never good at holding a grudge against your sweet, awkward, puppy-eyed housemate. 

The tall one that had spoken before chimed in eagerly, “I’m Yukhei, but my friends call me Lucas. Xuxi works, too. Or papi if you're feeling especially— ow!” Lucas yelped loudly as a hand connected to the back of a head with a sharp smack. You watched in amusement as another tall, charming looking man tugged him back, shooting him a warning glare before turning his attention to you. 

“Ignore him. He has a bad habit of forgetting his manners around attractive women. My name's Johnny, it’s great to finally meet you.” The sweet, disarming smile he offered you had any reservations melting away, and you easily returned the gesture before he proceeded with introductions. “This Haechan, Jaehyun, Doyoung, and— Taeyong?” 

Johnny pivoted around, brief confusion settling across his face before he spotted whoever he’d been looking for. Reaching behind Lucas, he grabbed someone's arm, tugging them into your line of sight. 

“And this is Taeyong!” He concluded with a grin, slapping a large hand down on the shorter boy’s shoulder. Taeyong dipped his head shyly, not meeting your eyes as he murmured a soft greeting that you were just barely able to catch. Soft tufts of dirty blonde hair fell over large brown eyes as he bowed politely, the air of meekness unmistakable. 

Oh, he’s cute. 

Your lips curled into an impish smirk. “Hi, Taeyong.” 

A faint blush darkened his cheeks and you caught a hint of a smile upturning the corners of his mouth. 

Really cute. 

Mark knew you well enough to see the gears beginning to turn in your head and coughed loudly when your stare lingered longer than necessary.

“O-kay, now that you’re all acquainted…” he stepped in swiftly, opting to intervene before you could get any wise ideas about his friend. “We have got a group project to work on and it would be extremely helpful if you’d refrain from providing any distractions. I already have a hard enough time trying to get them to focus for longer than five minutes as is.”

“Aww but I wanna hang out with your hot roommate, Mark.” Lucas whined loudly, practically throwing himself across Mark’s shoulders as the cutest pout you’ve probably ever seen fell across his lips. “She’s got a way nicer ass than any of you guys.” 

Doyoung sighed, his face screwing in second hand embarrassment for his friend’s shameless behavior. “Lucas, please.” 

“Have some dignity, man.” Haechan huffed additionally and you grinned in amusement as he grabbed the collar of Lucas’s shirt and began tugging him towards the living room. 

“Don’t worry, Mark. I’ll stay out of the way. I would hate to hinder your geek fest.” You teased, wrinkling your nose as you stepped past him. 

“Thank you, (y/n). I really— wait, Geek f– it’s a project worth thirty percent of our final grade!” 

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” You waved a dismissive hand over your shoulder, before pausing briefly. Spinning on your heels, you turned back to face 

the cute boy, who visibly jolted the moment your attention landed on him. “It was very nice meeting you, Taeyong.” 

“Y- you, too.” He stuttered sweetly and you had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach over and pinch those adorable pink cheeks. Either pair. 

With one last sultry smile, and a wink just to fuck with Mark a little, you sauntered back into your bedroom. Miraculously, you were no longer concerned with the previously unbearable heat plaguing your apartment. Now, you had something —or rather, someone— far more interesting to occupy your mind. 

Taeyong was having a difficult time focusing, which was pretty out of ordinary. He had barely gotten anything done with his assigned part of the project, less than half a page filled out with what little information he managed to collect. Luckily, none of the other guys seemed to notice, too distracted by their own inabilities to focus to take notice of his. Otherwise he would have to concoct some lie. But he wasn’t good at lying. He was a terrible liar, in fact. So he would probably just end up blurting out the truth which was you. You were the reason he couldn’t focus. You with your mischievous eyes and your pretty smile and intoxicating laugh. Mark’s asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra. 

He’d seen pictures of you before. But they didn’t do you any justice. In pictures, you were pretty. In real life, you were beautiful, charming, witty, sexy, and you winked at him. Girls don’t wink at him. Not ever. But you had. You’d winked and smiled at him and he wasn’t sure if you were just teasing him because he flustered easily or if there was a chance it meant something a little more than that. 

… he secretly hoped it meant something a little more than that. 

But he shouldn’t be thinking about you right now. He should be thinking about finishing his research. Not your eyes. Not your smile. Not your voice of the way you purred his name and those shivers rushed down his spine and he could have sworn something twitched— okay. That’s enough. He really needed to splash some water in his face, cool down a little before his mind wandered to places it definitely should not. 

“Ah— Mark?” 

The younger boy lifted his head, brows raising. “’Sup?” 

“Where’s the bathroom?” 

He perked, tipping his chin forward. “Oh, it’s to the right of the k— shit, wait. That toilet’s busted. Um, just use the one in my room. It’s at the end of the hall.” 

“Thanks,” Taeyong pushed himself up with a soft grunt, nearly tripping over Yukhei’s long legs as he maneuvered himself around the cluttered coffee table, “I’ll be right back.” 

None of the other guys took much notice of how quickly he rushed out of the room, much to Taeyong’s relief. He let out a low breath the moment he turned the corner and found himself in a vacant hallway, but that relief was short lived. 

Mark had only said that his room was at the end of the hall. But, there were two doors at the end of the hall. Meaning one of them could possibly lead to your room. And you were in your room. Which meant if he walked through the wrong door on accident… he could walk in on you. Oh god. Heat rushed into his cheeks at the mere thought of such a humiliating occurrence. For a moment, he debated turning on his heels and returning to the living room. 

But, he wasn’t ready to go back to studying just yet. He was still feeling flushed and antsy and needed another moment or two to himself. Plus… he was actually starting to need to pee a little. Damn him and his tiny bladder.

Hesitating, he gently knocked on the door on the right side of the hall then waited ten seconds. No response. Just to be extra certain, he knocked twice more before finally turning the knob. Cautiously, he peeked his head inside. The black out curtains were drawn tight so the room was dark, too dark to make out anything defining outside of the vague shape of a bed and dresser tucked into the far corner. It took a few minutes of stumbling blindly through the inky blackness, tripping over clothes and extension wires until he found what he hoped to be the bathroom door. 

Without too much of a second thought, he opened the door. 

Then he froze. 

He thought it was Mark’s room. He really did. He thought he was tripping over Mark’s clothes and Mark’s wires. Though, he probably should have noticed the light coming out from beneath the bathroom door, indicating that someone might be inside. Or maybe he did but ignored it because– because maybe Mark just left the light on. That could have happened. That totally could have happened. 

But it didn’t. 

Because it wasn’t Mark’s room. Those weren’t his clothes or his wires and he didn’t leave the light on. 

He realized this all too late of course. Because now he was staring at you. You who was wet and naked and… wet and naked. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only stare, dumbstruck, mind short circuiting as billowing steam curled around the shape of your body like an iridescent veil, beautiful skin glistening under the soft golden light. Your head was tipped back, lips slightly parted, hands soothing your slick hair out of your face as the hot water cascading down the swells of your 

breasts and over the curves of your shoulders.

It was like watching something out of a pornographic shampoo commercial. 

“Oh—” it was somewhere between a whine and gasp, strangled and broken by the time it escaped his trembling lips. It was so quiet, you shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the hiss of water. So it took him off guard when your eyes opened and flicked in his direction. 

He flinched, body jolting backwards like it intended to make a break for it, but it was like your stare locked him into place. His brain was screaming at him to do something; to move, to  turn away, close his eyes, apologize, bash his head against the freaking wall, literally anything but stand there staring at you with his mouth open like a complete idiot. But he couldn’t. 

The corner of your mouth curled, forming into a downright devilish smirk that sent hot tendrils of desire spiraling through his veins. Then you quirked a brow and it was like a burst of electricity bringing him back to life. His hands flew up from where they’d been frozen at his sides, slapping so hard over his eyes that he yelped in shock at the sting. 

“Ohmygod I- I am so sorry! I am so—” he whirled around, spewing high pitched apologies as he scrambled for the door. Only, his eyes were closed so instead of bolting out the door he face planted into the wall next to the door. “Ow!” 

Your low laughter rippled through the small bathroom and red hot embarrassment raced up his neck and into his face. He could only whimper out one finally strained apology as he clutched his throbbing nose and stumbled back into the darkness of your bedroom, slamming the door sharply behind him. 

By the time he’d managed to scramble back into the hall, Taeyong felt like he was on fire. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he was certain if he dared to look in a mirror he’d be the equivalent of a tomato. 

Humiliation gripped at his throat, squeezing painfully around his airway every time he recalled the previous events. He’d never be able to face you again. Not after that train wreck. Not ever. Groaning distraughtly, he sank against the wall, silently wishing that the floor would just swallow him up and put an end to his suffering.

But, there was something worse than the embarrassment. Something hotter and harder, throbbing shamelessly in the confines of his suddenly far too jeans. He saw you naked— wet and naked, looking like a freaking goddess beneath the stream of hot water, soap suds still clinging to your skin. He had never seen a woman like that before. Not in person, at least. And none as beautiful as you. 

Biting his lip, he squeezed his legs together, trying his best to will away his progressively hardening erection. That, of course, did not work. And it didn’t help in the slightest that every time he so much as blinked, the image of you in the shower came rushing to the forefront of his mind, still fresh and vivid and devastating. 

Oh god. There was no was no way he could go back to working on the project now. If he thought he was being unproductive before— he probably wouldn’t be able to get a single legible word written with the image of you and your body burned into the back of his eyelids. 

He was doomed. 

And he still needed to pee. 

Damnit. 

It was about nine at night when the low voices transformed into booming laughter, the walls practically vibrating under the barrage of stomping feet. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that they’d finished up on their project— either that or they mutually reached the end of their attention spans. 

Regardless, you were bored of remaining cooped up in your bedroom merely for the sake of your roommate’s econ grade and needed to stretch your legs a bit. Not to mention you were beginning to crave something greasy and unhealthy. You were almost certain the group of college boys lounging in your living room wouldn’t be opposed to some pizza, fries, and milkshakes from your favorite delivery place. 

“I don’t know about you boys but I’m starving!” You sang brightly as you all but skipped into the room. All eyes swung to you, wide and stunned as they watched you waltz over to where Mark sat in the love seat and throw yourself into his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. He grunted under your weight, lip curling in annoyance but wrapped his arms securely around your stomach nonetheless. You pretended not to notice the lingering eyes of one particular boy, meticulously curled into the farthest corner of the couch. “Anyone down to order?” 

“Ugh please!” Yukhei exclaimed, throwing his head back dramatically. “I am dying of hunger.” 

The others were eager to voice their own agreement and you turned to Mark with an expectant smile. “Rubio’s?” He asked, already reaching for his phone. 

“Read my mind.” You hummed, pinching his cheek until he hissed and swatted you away. 

It was nothing short of chaos trying to get everyone’s orders, multiple overlapping voices making it hard to discern exactly who was asking for what, but somehow Mark managed to place all of the requests with only a handful of difficulties. Well, all but one. 

“Taeyong.” 

The boy’s head jerked up so fast at the sound of his name that you were surprised you hadn’t heard something crack. Up until then he’d been sitting quietly with his knees to his chest, staring at his feet, pointedly avoiding looking in your general direction. He could only hold your gaze for a few tense seconds before his cheeks flamed and he dropped his eyes. 

“I– uh– y- yes?” He coughed, blinking hard. 

You tilted your head, offering him an innocent smile. “Is there anything you’d like to eat?” You couldn’t stop yourself from adding an unnecessarily suggestive pitch to the question, words dancing wickedly across your tongue. 

Taeyong swallowed and pulled his knees tighter to his chest. “I– I’ll just have some of the- the pizza.” The words tumbled clumsily out of his mouth and your grin only widened as he became more and more flustered under the heat of your persistent stare. 

“Perfect. Then we can share.” 

The poor boy nearly choked on air when you abruptly pushed yourself off of Mark and sauntered over to where he sat, squeezing in between him and an eager Yukhei, who was more than happy to make room for you. His entire body went rigid, brief panic shooting across his features as you made yourself comfortable. It was tight with Jaehyun, Lucas, Taeyong and now you all squished onto the couch, so you were practically flush against him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. You pretended not to notice that he was holding his breath. 

“Thirty minutes.” Mark announced, shutting off his phone and shoving it back into his pocket. 

“What should we do while we wait?” Jaehyun asked, ignoring Yukhei as he whined about how he’d be dead of starvation before the food even arrived. 

“Movie?” Haechan suggested. 

You perked. “I know a good one.” 

“No— no.” Mark cut in quickly, pointing a finger with the intention to reprimand in your direction. “Every time you pick a movie it’s either fucked up or really fucked up. So no.” 

“Don’t be a pussy, Mark.” You huffed, wrinkling your nose at him. “Just because you don’t like horror movies doesn’t mean your friends don’t.” 

“I, for one, love a good horror movie!” Yukhei remarked, a smug grin breaking across his lips as he shot a flirtatious wink in your direction. 

Haechan scoffed. “Bullshit! You couldn’t sleep alone for a week after we watched The Shining. And that wasn’t even scary!” 

“There was a tidal wave of blood.” He grumbled defensively, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumped, lower lip jutting out dramatically.

“No tidal wave of blood is this one, promise.” You snickered, snatching the remote from the cluttered coffee table and switching on the television. It only took a few minutes of browsing through Netflix before you finally located the movie you’d saved to your watch list a few weeks ago but had never gotten the chance to watch. 

Marked hopped up to flick off the lights as you pressed play, any excited or nervous murmurs coming to a halt as the opening credits rolled across the screen. Beside you, Taeyong tensed, squeezing his legs even tighter to his chest. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, not missing the nervous way he gnawed at his lower lip even in the darkness. 

“Not good with horror movies?” You hummed, nudging his knee. He flinched in surprise, eyes shooting over to meet yours before he quickly diverted his attention back to the screen. 

“No, not– not really.” He admitted weakly, clearing his throat. 

A playful smirk twirled onto your lips and you subtly leaned into him, whispering near his ear, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.” 

A fierce blush consumed his cheeks, illuminated by the soft grey light of the television. “I– I’ll be okay.” He coughed when his voice cracked and you chuckled under your breath, opting to cut the poor boy some slack… for now. 

The movie progressed with the usual eerie start before transitioning into something lighter, though the low hum of anticipation-building music never ceased. Even if at some point it became rather repetitive, you thoroughly enjoyed a good horror movie. Most of the time, they failed to meet expectations and you left feeling rather disappointed that your stomach hadn’t leapt into your throat any point throughout the film. However, every once in a while, you were pleasantly surprised. 

Now, was not one of those times. 

Boredom quickly settled over you as the plot developed, revealing itself to be almost identical to a number of horror movies you’d watched in the past. You slumped back in your seat, a subtle scowl staining your lips. But then… inspiration. Devious, unquestionably self indulgent inspiration that risked putting a certain someone in a possibly very awkward (but also very delightful) position. 

The slow slide of your eyes from the television over to the boy seated at your left revealed that not everyone found the movie to be boring and repetitive. Taeyong was practically trembling. He had both of his hands over his face, wide, uncertain eyes peeking out timidly from between his index and middle fingers. 

You had to sink your teeth into your lip in order to subdue the large grin threatening to break across your face. 

Fuck, he’s too adorable. 

Unable to resist, you allowed a curious hand to wander towards his leg. With a brush so subtle it could’ve been mistaken for a breeze, you traced a finger over the seam of his pants. But, with his senses on high alert, it wasn’t a sensation he missed. He jolted violently, head swinging in your direction. There was fear in his eyes, but it quickly melted into relief else once he realized it was you and not some demon. 

Then his eyes drifted to where your finger lingered, hovering over his clothed thigh, and the relief transformed into something else entirely. Something hot and shameful and desperate, something he tried to hide behind frantically fluttering eyelids and quivering lips. But it was unmistakable. 

You lifted your brows, a silent question swirling in your gaze. He swallowed, breath coming out in quick, shallow huffs as the unnameable emotion thickened inside of him, then he nudged his leg shyly towards you. The air you didn’t realize you were holding in your lungs rushed out in one quick exhale, a subtle smirk curling onto your lips as excitement swirled in your gut. Taeyong sucked his lower lip into his mouth as your open palm landed boldly on his lower thigh, fingers pressing gently into the clothed muscle just above his knee. 

For a few minutes, it remained there, not moving any lower or any high, simply resting on his leg and he found himself relaxing beneath your touch. The heat of your hand was a welcome –comforting, even– distraction from the horror movie that had progressed to the point in the plot where the reckless characters put themselves directly into the line of danger instead of taking the intelligent path that would help them avoid it all together. You could feel the tension returning to Taeyong’s muscles as suspense building music poured from the surround sound speakers. 

In a two sided attempt to both comfort and tease, you began gently massaging his thigh. His breath audibly hitched, gaze straying from the screen once more in favor of watching the slow, deliberate motion of your fingers squeezing around his leg. That alone was enough to set his long neglected desire to flames. It burned within him, hot and dangerous, turning his face a dark, flattering crimson. 

It was too much. He’d never been touched like this before. You weren’t even close to his crotch and he could still feel the distinctive hardening beneath the zipper of his jeans which were growing tighter and tighter with every passing moment. At this rate, he’d make a mess of himself before the movie even reached its climax. 

The mere thought of coming untouched was enough to make his head feel dizzy, a mixture of humiliation and heady lust licking at his nerves. 

He couldn’t believe he was feeling this way, in a room full of his friends no less. If one of them were to look over, even through darkness, it would be impossible to miss your hand laid across his lap or the feverish blush coating his face, illuminated by the dull light of the tv. 

Then, your hand shifted higher. It was a minute movement, couldn’t have been more than an inch or two. But it had his pulse spiking in his veins nonetheless, blood rushing downward. You gripped gently at the inside of his slim thigh, thumb tracing slow, calculated circles into the rough material of his jeans. He trembled beneath the teasing ministrations, jaw clenched to fight back the urge to moan as your curious touch wandered upwards once more. 

“Is this alright?” 

The question came unexpectedly, a sudden rush of warm breath hitting the curve of his throat. He sucked his lips into his mouth, shivering faintly at the low, rough sound of your voice, just quiet enough that none of the other men in the room could make it out. 

He offered a sharp, jerky nod, desperately heaving in deep breath through his nose. The corner of your mouth curled. 

“God you're shaking. Are you that sensitive? Or do you just get off on getting felt up in front of all your friends? How naughty.” You chuckled tauntingly, words borderline malicious. 

“I– I don’t— I’m not—” he swallowed, shaking his head frantically in denial of your words, despite the flames they ignited inside of him. 

“I think you are.” You purred, tracing your index finger lightly over his prominent bulge, eliciting a strangled moan from his trembling lips. He was fortunate enough that at the very moment the sound escaped, some ditzy bimbo began screaming her lungs out in the movie. Still, he slapped a hand over his offending lips, looking around frantically to see if anyone had heard his slip up. Luckily enough, it seemed they hadn’t. 

This was payback, he realized abruptly, this was payback for walking in on you showering. 

But even if it was— 

It felt too damn good. 

His head tipped back, hand surging to cover his burning face and stifle his whimpers as you suddenly gripped firmly at his clothed length. A low, appreciative hum thrummed through your chest as you felt him twitch, delighting in just how responsive he was to your touch. His thighs squeezed together, hips shuddering upwards as you mapped him out. 

The urge to set your teeth upon his neck was almost overwhelming, but you resisted only because it might draw some attention from the room’s other, currently oblivious, occupants. You doubted Yukhei would miss it, even if he was desperately hiding his eyes behind those astoundingly massive hands. 

But shit was it tempting. 

His pretty porcelain skin would look so good painted in varying shades of pink and red. So sweet and pure… you wanted to taint him. 

He couldn’t stop moving now, squirming and quivering in place. He was unraveling right before your eyes, and you were devouring it. What a sight… 

Warmth stirred in your belly, and you rolled your palm down. He jolted violently, then in the next second he was up on his feet. It happened so quickly that you nearly fell over, just barely catching yourself from falling into the spot he previously occupied. Yukhei shrieked in shock, throwing himself directly into Jaehyun’s lap. 

“Fuck, Taeyong! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Haechan shrilled, clutching a pillow against his chest. Instead of responding, Taeyong jerked forward, the movement sharp and robotic, like his body wasn’t quite caught up to his brain. 

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asked, squinting at him through the darkness. “And why do you look so—” 

“B- B- Bathroom!” Taeyong squeaked out abruptly. You could only watch with wide eyes and gaping lips as he proceeded to run out of the living room like his ass was on fire. 

“Movie must’ve freaked him out.” Johnny muttered. 

“It’s not even that bad.” Yukhei scoffed in a voice too high pitched for his words to sound believable, grunting when Jaehyun shoved him off of his lap. Noisy banter was quick ensue. Noisy and distracting enough for you to make a quick and silent escape without catching any of the other boys’ attention. 

“Taeyong?” You called softly, worry churning in your gut that you overstepped or upset him. “Tae, I’m sorry if I—” you gasped, words cutting off in your throat as a hand found your wrist and you were quickly tugged around the corner and into the unlit hallway. 

The motion was so unexpected you ended up tripping over your own feet, having to slam a hand against the wall to steady yourself. But it was only when you felt a rush of quick, warm breath against your face that you realized the position you’d gotten yourself into. Taeyong was standing in front of you, face flushed a feverish shade of red, faint perspiration glistening on his skin, and he was standing with his spine flush against the wall, effectively caged in by your body. And he was looking at you. 

Really looking at you. 

With the kind of eyes that had something tightening deliciously in the pit of your stomach, chills of excitement ricocheting through your veins. 

“Tae?” His name was less than a breath on your lips, laced with an unspoken question. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, fluttering gaze dancing across your face. 

“I almost…” he swallowed, shivering voice tapering off as he became overwhelmed by the proximity. He could smell your shampoo, a subtle, smoky-vanilla kind of scent that made his head feel dizzy. “I almost c- came.” 

The corner of your mouth swirled, both amused and charmed by the way he whispered the word, tone so innocent and shy that the filthy meaning behind it almost became misconstrued in your head. 

“Do you want to come, Taeyong?” You asked quietly, jutting a knee forward to press between his thighs. He gasped, trembling lips silently caressing the shape of your name as his hands shot forward, clutching desperately onto the sides of your shirt. A shy nod was all he could muster, the words feeling far too dirty to say aloud. But you weren’t satisfied. 

“Say it.” You murmured, nose brushing against his. His breath hitched at the command, warmth flushing through his veins beneath the staggering heat of your dark, hooded gaze. “If you want it, say it. If you don’t, tell me now.” 

“I want it!” He said quickly, only to flush and shrink in on himself, taken aback by his own outburst. Licking his lips, he repeated himself in a much softer voice, “I– I want it.” 

You let out a low hum, curving a gentle hand around his jaw. “Can I kiss you?” 

A shock ran through his body, his wide eyes snapping down to trace to soft lines of your mouth. “Yes.” He breathed, suddenly desperate for a taste of your lips. You didn’t deny him. 

The first brush of your lips against his is light, delicate… teasing. It made his knees tremble, fierce anticipation and wild desire running rampant through him. He opened up for you like a goddamn flower in bloom, melting sweetly when you applied even the slightest bit more pressure. His mouth was soft and warm, his kiss shy. And there was something ever so endearing about the way he clutched at your top like it was the only thing keeping him upright. 

You kept the pace deliberately slow, relishing in the soft moans that fluttered from his chest as you sucked his lower lip into your mouth, gently sinking your teeth into the sensitive flesh. He was wracked by a violent full body shiver when you licked over the seam of his lip. 

God he’s adorable. 

His strong reactions made you wonder if he’d ever been kissed like this before. Or, perhaps, this was a new experience entirely. 

“Taeyong.” He whimpered when you abruptly broke away from the kiss, but you ignored it. “Are you a virgin?” 

His eyes widened, a deep red flooding his cheeks. Then, he nodded, gaze dropping to the floor as the tips of his ears darkened. 

Wicked excitement curled in your gut, heat licking at your veins at the thought of being the first to corrupt such a sweet… innocent… 

“Have you ever been touched before?” 

He shook his head, chest pressing against your with every jagged inhale he drew into his lungs. 

You dipped a hand between your bodies, trailing teasingly down his stomach. “Would you like to be touched?” Your voice had dropped at least an octave, a low, rasping whisper that nearly made him keen. 

“Yes.” A devious grin settled across your lips at the quickness of his reply. Didn’t even need to think that one over, huh? 

You slid your hand over his crotch, feeling his hips buck uncontrollably when you squeezed. “Just looking at you,” you began, toying with his zipper, “I never would’ve guessed what a little slut you are.” 

“I- I’m not a slut.” He whimpered, digging his fingers into your waist. 

“Aren’t you, though?” You popped the button of his jeans. “I mean, take a good look at yourself, Yongie; letting yourself get felt up and teased by your best friend’s roommate while they’re just in the next room over. Seems pretty slutty to me.” 

Taeyong couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped his chest at the degrading word, his cock twitching within the confines of his boxers. Slipping a finger beneath the elastic, you tugged it away from his skin, letting out a playful coo when his weeping pink tip peeked out. The blush on his face intensified tenfold, both of his hands dropping down instinctively to cover himself. But you were faster, snatching his wrists and pinning them against the wall on either side of his head. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Shivering, he offered a compliant nod. 

“Good boy.” 

He barely had time to form a reaction to the praise before he felt you around him, stroking and caressing. The responding moan that burst from his lips was loud— too loud. You were quick to cover his gaping mouth, successfully muffling the series of succeeding gasps and whimpers. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” you clicked your tongue, watching the way his eyes fluttered and rolled as you tightened your grip around his cock, “you wouldn’t want your hyungs to find out what a little slut you’re being, now would you? Mark was so kind, inviting you into his home… How do you think he’d feel if he were to see you taking advantage of his hospitality, getting your pretty little cock played with by his roommate? How shameless...” 

Taeyong whimpered, and you felt the gentle press of his lips against your palm, followed by a meek flick of his tongue. He was looking at you now, really looking at you, with the kind of pathetic, wanting eyes that never failed to make your skin burn in excitement. You wondered if you could make him cry, overwhelm him with pleasure to the point where he couldn’t keep his emotions at bay. The desire to ruin him was almost unbearable. 

Swirling your thumb over his tip, you slotted a leg between his, pressing up against him from underneath. He nearly keened at the pressure, hips rolling greedily over your thigh, simultaneously pumping his cock into your closed fist. Heaven, this must be heaven. Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to succumb to his desires so readily, with such… enthusiasm. But this Taeyong surprised you at every turn. You’d thought he’d be shy, reserved, hesitant to give in, but here he was, riding your thigh and fucking your hand like his life depended on it, his muffled moans pulsing beneath your palm. 

It’d be a flat out lie to say you weren’t beyond turned on. 

There was a slick warmth building between your thighs, soaking into the fabric of your underwear, and tight knots in your stomach, threatening to burst at any given moment. The knowledge that less than thirty feet away, your roommate and all his friends were gathered and one stray moan from the crumbling man before you could give away all the filthy things you were doing to him stroked the lustful flames blazing through your blood. One glimpse into those hooded, glassy brown eyes told you he was suffering from a similar burn. 

“Turn around.” You demanded, somewhat breathless as you tore your hands off of him. A low whimper escaped past trembling lips at the loss of stimulation, a shiver rippling down his spine as his hard, abandoned cock swung through empty air. Regardless, he was quick to comply, spinning himself around and pressing his palms flat against the wall. You hummed a praise, pleased with his eager compliance, rewarding him with your touch. He gasped, forced to sink his teeth into his lip to stifle his whimpers as your hands slipped over his body: one returning to stroke his dick while the other pushed beneath the material of his top, venturing up to his chest where your fingers set to toying with his sensitive nipples. 

“(y/n)—” he moaned your name desperately, rocking his body back against yours as overwhelming pleasure pulsed through his veins. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” you chuckled darkly, splaying a steadying palm across his hips as they began grinding back into yours, “you sound like you're about to burst.” 

He moaned, shuddering when you caressed his sensitive tip, and an idea struck you. 

“Can you do something for me, Tae?” You asked, voice a low, rasping against the shell of his ear. “Can you suck?” 

Any short lived confusion dissipated from his mind when he felt your fingers nudging at the soft flesh of his lips. A deep blush flooded into his cheeks, but his mouth opened nonetheless, shyly taking your digits inside. 

“There you go…” you purred, feeling his tongue lick delicately at the pads of your middle and ring finger. He sucked, and you lowered your head to press slow, encouraging kisses laced with whispered praises to the juncture of his throat. You felt the soft vibrations of his muffled moans quivering through your knuckles and against your lips. He was shaking, the stimulation to his cock causing violent tremors to wrack his body. He wasn’t far off from release, you could tell as much by the way he was twitching and the slow increase in volume of his sounds. 

But you weren’t finished yet. 

Not by a long shot. 

You pulled your fingers from his mouth, the suction of his lips giving with a lewd, wet pop. A filthy sound coming from such innocent lips. 

Leaning forward, you nipped gently at the shell of his red tinted ear, hand releasing his dick in favor of venturing beneath the hem of his pants. You heard his breath hitched and offered quietly, “Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

Taeyong nodded in understanding, but offered no resistance as you pushed the thick denim down over the soft curve of his ass. His shoulders jumped, a gasp shooting from his lips when you slid a saliva soaked finger between his cheeks, coming to the abrupt realization of what your intentions were. 

“O– oh—” 

“Is this alright?” 

He swallowed, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “I– I’ve never…” 

You soothed a hand down the front of his thigh, “it’s okay if you don’t want to.” 

There was no judgement in your tone, rather a gentleness to the reassurance that put his buzzing nerves at ease. “That’s not it,” he shook his head, gnawing at the corner of his lip as a soft pink crept across his cheeks, “j– just…” 

“Just?” 

Taeyong drew in a deep, trembling breath. Your furrowed brows shot to your hairline, heat twisting in your gut as he suddenly bent himself over, sticking his ass out, practically fucking presenting himself to you. “B- be gentle…” he whispered shyly, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. 

Steam would surely start coming out of your nose if your temperature rose any further. This is fucking ridiculous. How was it possible for a man to be so cute yet so sexy all at once? This couldn’t be good for your health… 

Smirking deviously, you settled a palm between his shoulder blades, pressing down ever so slightly and watching as he delicately arched his spine. “I’m always gentle.” 

A hiccuping moan rushed from his chest at the first careful press of your finger, his brows furrowing deeply as his muscles tightened in response to the foreign stretch. 

“Relax, sweetheart.” You reminded lightly, settling soothing kisses across his shoulder. He drew in a series of deep breaths, allowing himself to adjust to the sensation of having something inside of him while melting into the tender caress of your cool lips across his feverish skin. You felt the slow dissipation of tension, felt the way he melted beneath you. “There you go…” you cooed, easing into him until your knuckle before allowing him a few moments to adjust. 

He was panting, forehead thudding softly against the wall as his hips trembled, a strange but not unpleasant feeling sparking to life inside of him. 

“Oh…” it was a barely audible sound, soft and breathless of shuddering lips. But you didn’t miss it, didn’t miss the way his shoulders drooped, his walls tight relaxing ever so faintly around the intruding digit. The corner of your mouth curled upwards in a salacious smirk, and you curled your finger experimentally. 

His reaction was instantaneous, a moan of surprise entwined with unexpected pleasure rushing from his flush throat. He glanced back at you from over his shoulder, eyes wide and trembling, hazy with an emotion you immediately recognized as pure, unfiltered lust. Your grin widened, almost triumphant as you whispered, “feel that?” 

He nodded rapidly, a gasp of breath wracking his chest. “Yes,” his hands were curling into fists where they were braced against the plaster wall. 

“Wanna feel it again?” 

The sound he let out was a combination of several things, keening and desperate for the sensation he’d never before experienced. “Please. Please.” 

It was impossible to say anything but yes when he begged like that. 

You rewarded him by stretching him out around a second finger, his knees nearly giving out when you thrust them in as deep as they would go. He was an absolute mess, forced to slap a quivering hand over his gaping mouth when his teeth proved insufficient at keeping his sounds in. You were enjoying yourself perhaps a little too much, enjoying watching him slowly crumble, enjoying watching his innocence shatter into tiny irreparable pieces on the floor beside glistening drops of precum. He was just too irresistible… 

“You’re about to come, aren’t you?” He was nodding before you even finished the question, muffled moans and sobs escaping through his fingers as he fucked himself back onto yours. You curve a hand around the shape of his jaw, tugging his head back at an angle that surely causes a strain in his neck, and slot your lips into his. Shoving your tongue down his throat proves a far more efficient means of keeping him quiet. 

But when you curled your fingers inside of him, subsequently stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves, even your mouth wasn’t enough to stifle the shriek of pleasure that burst from his throat. You were hoping the screams you heard emulating from the other room were enough to drown it out. 

“Keep your voice down.” You all but snarled, curling a hand around his throat. 

“I- I can’t— oh god, it feels so g- good.” He babbled, voice strained from the sheer effort of trying to keep himself from crying out in bliss. “I’m g- gonna come— I’m gonna c- come—” the sound of him choking on his words, gasping for breath around the added resistance of your restricting hold was even hotter than you imagined it would be. 

“Gone on, sweetheart. Let me see you make a mess of yourself.” You kissed the shell of his ear, deciding then to have mercy and offer his pathetic, weeping cock a helping hand. He was finished the moment your fingers grazed his tip, struck with an orgasm so powerful it had his knees buckling beneath the weight of his quivering body. 

His jaw when slack, unleashing every pent up sound he’d managed to keep bottled up thus far. They came rushing out of him too quickly to stop, not that you made much of an effort. You were enjoying the way he was moaning your name like it was his saving grace far too much to care whether or not the other boys were hearing. In fact, the thought of them hearing their sweet, innocent Taeyong whimpering like a bitch in heat, moaning your name, gave you an unexpected rush of delight. 

You didn’t stop fucking your fingers into his tight little hole until you were certain you’d milked him for all he was worth, until he was reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess against your chest, barely able to keep himself upright. 

“Oh my g- god.” He murmured shakily, head falling back to rest on your shoulder. 

A low chuckle slid from your lips as you gently released his spent cock, simultaneously pulling out of him. He winced faintly, whining weakly at the unpleasant emptiness that ensued. 

“That felt pretty good didn’t it?” You teased. 

He bit his lip, humming airily as he melted into your hold. 

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Taeyong?” Your words danced over the curve of his throat, flooding his senses with the fluttering implication. Blushing, he nodded, a shy bob of his head that caused the sweat soaked fringes of his bangs to fall over his eyes, clinging delicately to his pretty eyelashes. “Words?” 

“I—” he swallowed, gaze flitting as his face reddened further, “I’m a g- good boy.” 

You mouth curled deviously. Holding your come covered hand up to his panting mouth, you whispered against the shell of his ear, “good boys clean up their mess.” 

His breath hitched, wide eyes jumping over to meet yours. You held his gaze boldly, cocking an expectant brow. Then, ever so lightly, his tongue dipped out from between red bitten lips, kitten licking his come from your fingertips. You could’ve come right then and there, watching him shyly lap his own release from your hand. Honestly you would’ve been happy to stay like that all night, his tongue tracing the lines of your palm, caressing your knuckles… 

But then the doorbell rang, and someone cleared their throat in the other room. 

“Uh… foods here.” 

Taeyong leapt away from you with a gasp, flushing deeply as his hands flew to tuck himself back into his jeans. 

“D- do you think they—” his voice cracked and he coughed as crimson crept up his neck. 

You smirked, not in the least bit ashamed. 

“Oh, definitely.”

A/N; well i dropped off the face of the earth, sorry about that loves. but i think you’ll be happy to know that i have a number of wip sitting in drafts, should i tease the banners? 

[lunnybunny12]

Sandor Clegane X Reader (Your secret sworn shield)

Thank you to @1ofjokersgoons for the request

A/N: here you go hope you enjoy it. This my mind to all kinds of places so sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted.

Master list

Word count: 1,787

Warnings: Swearing, fighting

Your nose burned in the frigid air, and you squinted against the sun reflecting off of the armed men around you.

The cold wasn't something you were used to. Hells, you'd only ever seen snow twice in your life and you weren't exactly fond of it then either. Thankfully It was the summer when your father roped your family into his campaign across Westeros.

"You can always ride with your Mother of you're cold, princess, " Your father said in a mocking tone as he rode beside you.

"I'd rather lose a hand to frostbite," You chuckled, adjusting your position on the saddle.

You were the eldest of the Baratheon brood and the jewel of Roberts eye. Unlike your siblings, there was no mistaking you were your fathers daughter. You had the looks and grace of your mother, yes, but you also had the attitude, appetite for fighting and signature brown/black hair of a Baratheon.

" And father please don't call me princess. You know how much I hate it,"

"Ah but that's the issue young lady, you ARE a princess and I want you to act like one. When we're at home you can come on hunts and roam about all you like, but not here. At Winterfell you need to put on those dresses you hate so much and you will watch your tongue in front of the Starks. Am I clear?"

Your jaw clenched in frustration. Your father had been saying this for the past week in not no nice ways but you understood full well why. One reason being that he was the only one you'd listen to. The second was that since you were born a girl, the Iron throne could never be yours. Your place as the eldest princess was to be wedded off to whomever your father deemed worthy of you, and thankfully (since the king held you in such high regard) that day was long overdue.

"Fine... But I want Clegane."

"The Hound? What need do you have of him?"

"If you want me to be a lady I will, but if I get attacked I can't protect myself properly while wearing heels and a bloody corset. I need a shield."

Another chuckle left your father. This time it wasn't out of cheer it was more in amusement.

"Ay you have the mind of a Lannister"

"One of the few good things that family gave me," you smiled.

When you got to Winterfell later that day it was a relief, to say the least. As much as you enjoyed the outdoors and hunting around the red keep, the warmth the castle provided was a godsend. It seemed like everyone from the north had arrived to catch a glimpse of your family but it's not like it was hard to miss. Your mother and siblings wore the bold Lannister red and their heir shone as brightly as the gold they mined. Your uncle Jamie in the white armour of the kings guard and you in the Baratheon colours, sat on your horse, taking it all in.

As you were getting ready for the feast a knock was heard on your chamber door. An audible gasp was heard from your chamber made then they saw the hound lumber into the room and holt at seeing you.

You were stood there in a long, (Favourite colour) dress with long sleeves and a matching cloak. Your hair had been styled the northern way, simple yet elegant. The southern styles were too fiddly for your taste.

"Ladies, you are dismissed" you said.

The women immediately scurried out of the door and shut it behind them with a heavy thunk. You smiled as you watched the man search the room for any threats or anyone that could eavesdrop. When he deemed it safe he was the one that spoke first.

"You wanted me, you got me. For the whole week"

"You're making it sound like a bad thing, my love"

"It is if I can't keep my hands off of you" he growled and pulled your hips to kiss you roughly.

You were 10 when Joffrey was born and he was more of a disappointment to you than anything else. He was brash, rude, inconsiderate, boorish, egotistical and above all a coward. If someone. When he was younger hed always be at your heels, annoying you to no end and constantly tried to get you in trouble (The keyword being tried) and since Sandor's purpose was to protect the future king, he was with you too. You ended up becoming his babysitter and whenever you were training the boy would shout and say nasty thing to make you lose your concentration. One day you had, had enough of his heckles and asked him to spar with you. However, instead of being a man and doing it himself, he sent his dog to do it for him.

"Clegane isn't always going to be with you little brother and neither will anyone else if you don't lose that sour attitude. So be a man, and spar with me yourself."

It was the way you said it that shook Clegane. He expected you to lose your rag or just leave the training area all together but instead, you talked like you would a scared child. Calm and collected yet firm. As expected Joffery took the challenge, lost and then whined about it like the boy he was.

You parted from the kiss with a cheeky grin as you held his neck in your hands, making him shiver.

"You've controlled yourself before Sandor, and you can do it again,"

"You put far too much trust in me Princess"

"No Sandor I put all of my trust in you. and don't call me princess."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days had passed since the feast and you didn't like who you pretended to be. You didn't like the dress or hair or corset but it kept your parents off of your scent for a while. A couple of times you were able to sneak off with Sandor and do your own thing and since you were there to keep up appearances, you weren't missed.

One evening as you were walking across the courtyard, you heard a scuffle coming from behind the stables. You were met with a fully stocked armoury and training area. The walls were lined with a variety of weapons, from knives and slingshots to swards and axes. You reached your gloved hand towards a sword a sudden voice made you jump.

"Be careful, your grace. They're sharp"

It was one of the Stark boys. He was on the older side, about the same age as you may be a tad bit younger. Admittedly you'd been too caught up in being with Sandor that you hadn't taken the time to know your hosts.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you, your grace,"

"Don't worry about it... um... sorry I'm so bad with names" You said to the black-haired boy.

"Robb Stark, your grace," He answered kissing your hand.

A deep growl came from behind you, and an amused smile crossed your face. Sandor knew full well the boy was just being polite but he felt protective of you regardless.

"and please be careful around the swords they are sharp. We can't have a lady hurting her self,"

The tone Robb used was like he was talking to a child that couldn't tell the difference between a knife and a toothpick. Sandor picked up on it too. He knew what you were going to do before you did.

From what the boy had said he wasn't aware of your training, nor your personality in general and a fake, sheepish, smile spread across your face.

"Well I have had a little bit of training in how to fight but since I came to Winterfell I've forgotten most of it... you look like you know a few things do you mind catching me up?" You said, acting naive and from the look Robb gave you, it worked like a charm.

Robb agreed to "help" you and took you into the training area. He introduced you to Theon Greyjoy and his half brother Jon Snow.

Sandor watched as you continued your act with an almost invisible smile. Whenever you were in the Red Keep you were a completely different person, you were you but god's did he find that facade entertaining.

By that point, Rob had shown you how to hold a sword, jab and do a couple of swings and before you knew it you were going to spar.

"Are you ready, your grace?"

"I'm a little scared" you answered in fake concern.

"Don't worry your highness, I'll take it easy on you"

You could hear the boys chuckle in the corner of the arena and you knew they were laughing at you... or at least Greyjoy was. Sandor had taken it upon himself to stand by the pair and tell them to hush and watch the show.

The second Robb called "go" you swiped his legs out from under him, knocking him flat on his ass.

"Oh sorry," you snickered "I did tell you I had some training didn't I?"

The Stark stood up and brushed himself off. "Its alright princess, let's go again shall we?"

Almost immediately he lunged at you again, that time you blocked his sword with yours and then knocked him down.

Round after round Robb lost and each time your smile grew.  By the tenth round, Robb had finished "Taking it easy" on you and you were completely fine with that, If he wanted to hurt you he would have done it already. It was all in good fun and after one more knockdown, Robb yielded.

"Nice skills Stark, your father should be proud" You said as you walked up to him and extended your hand to pull him up.

With a smirk, he grabbed your hand. "Likewise your majesty. Although you could have told me before I made a fool of myself"

"Aww and wheres the fun in that?" You said handing the boy the practice sword. "Its been a pleasure Lord Stark that was quite entertaining, but I must bid you good night."

As you walked to the exit of the arena you saw Theon and Jon looking at you gobsmacked.

"Have a good evening Gentlemen." you bowed to the 3 of them and they bowed back.

Many, hot, steamy, lustful kisses were exchanged that night. Not out of jealousy or anger or hatred, but out of pure infatuation. After a particularly long kiss, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Do you know what you did today?"

"No."

"You made me fall in love with you,"

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

party favors

Peter Quill x Reader

Prompt: “the noises you make are incredible”

Summary: the guardians are at a high-society party being held in their honor after ronan’s attack on xandar. quill is easily bored however, and issues you a challenge in the midst of it.

Warnings: smut, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, sex in public, borderline/potential exhibitionism, adult language,

Word Count: 1,956

Got a Request? Prompt list for: tony | clint | quill

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“If I’d known it was gonna get you all dolled up and in a dress, I would have teamed up with a bunch of homicidal misfits and risked our lives to save an entire planet from a power-crazy warlord way sooner.”

You were surprised out of your relaxed reverie by Peter’s joking voice in your ear, smiling as you felt him wrap his arms around your middle. He rested his chin on your shoulder and pressed a quick kiss to the side of your neck. You breathed a quiet laugh as his stubble tickled your throat, taking a sip of your drink as you stepped out his embrace and turning to face him. You straightened his collar with your free hand.

“You make everything we went through seem so trivial.” you replied, rolling your eyes as he took your drink from your hand and finished it. “And I was drinking that.”

He set the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray, stepping closer to you with a teasing smirk. “Fancy getting out of here?”

“It’s barely been two hours.” you pointed out, amused. The two of you were surrounded by the rich and powerful of Xandar and what seemed like every high-ranking official of the Nova Corps. It had been a month since the defeat of Ronan, and you’d all been invited back for a black-tie gala celebrating both the victory and Rhomann Dey’s resulting promotion.

The notion of free food and top shelf booze had been enough to convince the crew to return, and you’d spent the last two hours mingling and keeping a watchful eye on the more unpredictable members of the crew.

“So?”

“So, you’re supposed to be making sure Rocket doesn’t rob anybody.”

“Gamora can handle it,” he shrugged, reaching out to skim his fingertips down your arm to your hand and closing the remaining distance between you. “And Drax is busy tormenting Dey. We’re in the clear.”

You raised a brow with a smile, leaning into his touch as his hand claimed your hip. “What about the speeches?”

“Exactly.” he replied easily. He leaned in, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin below your ear. “If we leave now, we can spare ourselves the boredom.”

You wet your lips, eyelids fluttering closed briefly as his hand moved from your hip to grip at your backside, pulling you to him. You were standing towards the back of the room, all but sparing you any potential audience for the affectionate display. “And if they want the Milano’s captain to speak?”

He took hold of your hands with a cocky, reckless grin that promised mischief, dragging you playfully into a nearby alcove. He turned, pressing you against the wall and pinning your hands by your sides. He brought them up by your shoulders, fingers sliding down over your palms to wrap around your wrists. His body was flush against yours, the heat of him through the thin material of your dress sending shivers down your spine. “I guess we’ll just have to stay nearby, then. Won’t we, baby?”

“Peter—”

His lips met yours fiercely, and your protests melted into a moan, muffled against his mouth as his tongue met yours. You felt yourself melt into his embrace, arguments forgotten, and your fingers twitched, eager to wrap your arms around his neck. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip as he slung his hips into yours, and Quill chuckled against your lips at your sudden eagerness.

He only pulled away when your chest began to burn for air, and it heaved as you inhaled, your head spinning. You arched your neck to catch his lips again and he grinned, instead leaning in to trail his lips over your jaw and down the side of your neck. He released your wrists to take a possessive hold of your hips instead, and you gripped at the front of his jacket, holding him to you. Quill’s fingers bunched in your dress, sending the silky fabric gliding up your thighs. You hummed at the sensation, his lip tickling your throat as you cast a wary glance towards the main hall as music played on.

Quill had pulled you into a small alcove off the side of the main room, your bodies almost completely hidden by the large, ornamental floral arrangement beside you. Still, you could see people as they passed, dancing and talking. Any one of them could turn and notice the two of you, and yet you didn’t want to push him away. If anything, it spurred you on, and you urged him closer, kissing him again as he took hold of your thigh and brought it up to rest against his hip.

You hooked your leg around his, breath catching as Peter broke your kiss and instead pressed his lips to your sternum. His hand smoothed up your leg, your dress bunching with it, goosebumps following him as he bore your leg to the room. His fingers dug into your flesh, and his other hand cupping the side of your face as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your lips again.

He gave you a charming, arrogant smirk before moving to his knees in front of you, hooking your thigh over his shoulder instead. Your eyes widened, and you smacked his hand as it moved from your cheek down to your other leg, pausing to squeeze your breast teasingly. He snickered as you did, the sound muffled against your leg as he turned his head and bit your thigh teasingly.

“You can’t be serious!” you hissed, fisting your hand in his hair and glancing warily at a passing waiter. He was oblivious to the two of you, and you bit your lip to stop a whimper as Peter pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. His teeth grazed against the sensitive skin, his hand sliding up your other leg and hooking in your underwear. “Peter, if we get caught—”

“Better keep it quiet, then.” he said with a cocky wink, and your hips bucked as he tugged your underwear to the side and flicked his fingers over your clit. “The noises you make are incredible, but you might want to keep them to yourself just this once.”

A moan slipped from your lips as Peter slid his tongue over your clit, his arm wrapped possessively around the thigh hooked over his shoulder, holding you in place. You slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes rolling back as he sucked at your clit. He laughed quietly against your sex, fingers digging into your flesh and stubble tickling at your inner thigh as he ate you out.

You let your head fall back against the wall, fingers sliding through his curls as you rolled your hip against his mouth. You whined against the palm of your hand, struggling to keep your eyes open as you watched the crowd. He always made it obvious how much he enjoyed doing this, trying to see how loud he could make you cry out, and now the idea of working you undone while you desperately tried not to make a sound seemed to excite him all the more.

You bit into your palm, heedless of smearing lipstick, as Quill slid a finger into you, the heel of your shoe digging into his back. You arched into his hand, his tongue still teasing your clit, your moan muffled against your hand as you came.

You took a shuddering breath as he stood, your hand falling from your mouth. You gripped at his arm instead, and he grinned widely, bringing his finger to your lips. You parted them, holding his gaze as you sucked it clean slowly. He captured your lips in a hungry, consuming kiss as soon as he pulled his hand away, sliding his fingers into your hair. You wrapped your other arm around his neck, hand clinging to his shoulder as he kissed you. Your orgasm only seemed to spur you on, desperate for more.

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and you untangled yourself from him without breaking the kiss, reaching between the two of you to unbuckle his belt. Quill broke the kiss with a sharp intake of breath as you palmed him roughly, his forehead resting against yours.

“You sure?” he murmured, eyes closed as you freed him from his pants and wrapped your hand around his cock. Even as his voice grew rough and husky with arousal, you could still hear a teasing lilt in his tone. “I mean, I’m all for it, but I thought—"

“Don’t care,” you muttered against his mouth, stroking him with one hand and pushing the skirt of your dress aside with the other. “I need you. Now.”

He kissed you again, fervently, as he took hold of your ass, lifting you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, taking hold of his shoulder, your other hand gripping at the hair at the nape of his neck. His breath was warm on your cheek, his nose bumping against yours. “Better keep it quiet then, sweets.”

“So, shut up.” you replied, kissing him hard as he thrust into you. You groaned into his mouth, tongue sliding against his as he began to fuck you steadily, one hand tightening almost painfully on your ass. The other gripped the base of his cock, not trusting himself not to fuck himself into you fully, trying to avoid the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

He buried his face in your neck, teeth digging into your shoulder. You whined, hand tightening in his hair. You turned your gaze to the main hall, the room falling quiet as Nova Prime took the stage to speak. You bit your lip, desperately trying to keep silent even as your back arched and Peter released the base of his cock and instead rolled his fingers over your clit.

“Fuck—” you smashed your lips to his again, moaning into it as your body tightened. Your orgasm crested as the crowd erupted in applause, your strangled moan drowned out. Quill thrust into you hard, grunting as he came, and you clung to his shoulders as the two of you caught your breath.

He lowered you to the ground, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he tucked himself back into his pants and buckled his belt. You smiled, straightening your underwear and dress. Quill smoothed a hand over your hip, and you rolled your eyes at his appearance, straightening the collar of his shirt before reaching up and running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“You’re a mess.”

“You can talk,” he shot back sarcastically, an amused smirk curving his lips. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, showing you the smear of lipstick he’d just wiped off you. You rolled your eyes, smiling as he leaned in to kiss you again. You leaned up on your toes, his fingers sliding into the hair by your ear. His other hand took hold of your hip, sliding to the small of your back. “You look like—”

“I just got railed in public?”

He snickered. “God, you’re so classy.”

You grinned, touching a hand to the back of your head. You could only imagine the state it was in. “You love it. Now, any idea how I can get to the bathroom without being noticed.”

“Nope.” he shrugged, wrapping an arm around your waist. “But we can probably slip out the back and head back out the ship.”

“What about the party?”

“I can think of ways we can have our own…”

You scoffed, letting him pull you into his side. You leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. “God, you’re such a cheeseball.”

.

.

.

tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink​ @s0ftness​ @castieltrash1​ @bombardia​ 

[sharkneto]

👀

This is going to be a longer snip but it's a fun one. A For Fun scene that is in no way canon to Holding It Together, just a bit of fun musing because, well, obvious reasons:

“Have I come at a bad time?” the woman asks with mock sincerity. She glances between the Walters and Five before smiling. “Good.”

“You’re quite the cockroach,” Five says, stiff smile on his face. “People just don’t stay dead like they used to, do they?”

“Takes a cockroach to know one, doesn’t it,” the woman says easily, slinging Five’s insult back at him. His shoulders tense. “And you’re one to talk about not staying dead. You play pretty hard and fast with that little universal law, don’t you? Just how many times have you failed to keep your little family alive?”

Rob shuffles closer to Sarah and wills the rest of the Hargreeves to catch up with them. He doesn’t know who this woman is, but there is an obvious familiarity between her and Five. Experience says that means she’s with the Commission, and that makes her bad news. The tension in the room between them is palpable, something he could cut with a knife.

The woman daintily sets her briefcase down at the corner of the hallway and takes a few steps further into the room, high heels sinking into the carpet and her gaze never wavering from Five. With a careful motion, she pulls the netted veil from her face, tucking it back into her silver-blonde curls.

Five sidesteps to partially meet her, keeping himself between her and the Walters. Sarah fumbles to find Rob’s hand. The woman’s gaze flicks to take in the movement.

“What do you want?” Five demands.

“Come, now, Five, where are your manners? You’re not even going to introduce me to your friends?”

Five’s tight smile only grows.

“Well,” the woman sighs, obviously disappointed in Five. She turns her attention to Rob and Sarah. A chill runs down Rob’s spine as their eyes meet. “I am, well. I was Number Five’s handler. We know each other very well, don’t we Mr. Five?” She turns that sickly sweet smile back to Five. He tilts his head, neither confirming nor denying. Her focus flicks back to Rob and Sarah. “And you are?”

It takes Rob a second to realize no actual name is coming. He glances at Sarah before opening his mouth to answer.

“They’re not relevant,” Five interrupts, forcing the Handler’s attention back to him. “Why are you here?”

“Why, Five, I thought that was obvious. I’m here to make a deal.”

“I’m not interested in making any deals with the Commission.”

“Ah, but I’m not with the Commission.”

Five narrows his eyes. She simply smiles back and holds out her hands in a ta-da! “I’ll cut to the chase, you always like that,” the Handler says, hands dropping. “You and I make a good team, and I think I have something that would be mutually beneficial.”

“No, no we don’t,” Five says with a sharp shake of his head. “Whatever you have to offer, you can shove right up your ass.”

“Five,” the Handler coos, taking another step closer. Five holds his ground, tucking his hands into his pockets. “You haven’t even heard what my deal is yet. Do you know the trouble I had to go through to track you down, and now you don’t even want to hear what I have to say?” She holds a hand to her chest in mock hurt, a pout twisting her blood-red lips.

Rob keeps glancing between the two, trying to figure out their relationship, who they are to each other. Five has been familiar with the few other Commission agents they’ve come across in the short time he’s been with them, but this is a whole other level. There’s a levity to how the Handler is playing with Five, a teasing that hints at a genuine deeper connection.

He’s not sure that’s a good thing.

“That is a good point,” Five concedes. “How did you find me?”

“You forget, Five, I know you. I will say, it was a little bit of a puzzle to figure out where you dragged your family after that botched 2019 timeline you were in before. But! Then I remembered that little joy ride you went on just before the Dallas Job and you stabbed me in the back and betrayed everything. I let it pass, then, figured after four years of exemplary service I could let a little side trip slide, let you visit whatever little moment you wanted to see. That mistake is on me, I’ll admit to that one. Creating your own little diversion, that was clever, Five. A backup timeline almost identical to your own, a safe alternate that isn’t different enough to be flagged but is different enough to allow you and your family to easily slip in without any immediate paradoxes. Why, when I thought to check here—”

She’s cut off by a soft whumpf! at the entryway. “I don’t know if you guys realized but you left your garage…” Number trails off as he takes in the scene, gaze flicking between Rob and Sarah, Five, and the Handler as he freezes, unsure of what he just walked in on. Five closes his eyes with a grimace at his alternate self’s poor timing.

The Handler’s face curves into a delighted grin. “Oh, Five,” she purrs.

Number frowns and glances to Five for guidance. The Handler steps past Five to better study him, long skirt swooshing. She walks a slow circle around Number, taking him in from every angle. Number turns his head to keep her in his sight, eyebrows furrowed in obvious confusion.

As she makes it back around, the Handler stops and spins back to Five. Five has turned to continue facing her, his expression guarded but obviously uncomfortable. “Five,” she says again, voice full of condescending humor. “That’s what your little side trip was? You really thought all it would take was you to divert the entire apocalypse?” Five shifts slightly but holds her gaze. Her Cheshire cat grin grows and she slowly strides back to Five, each step an emphasis to her words. “That’s rather narcissistic, even… for… you.” By you, she is directly in Five’s space, too close to him, and she reaches out with one, perfectly manicured finger to lightly tap him on the nose.

And Five lets her.

The anxiety that had been pooling in Rob’s gut tightens. Five is careful with touch. He has careful boundaries that he maintains, deliberately decides what brushes and hugs from his siblings he will allow, and nothing passes his defenses without a moment of hesitation to catalog it, categorize the touch as friendly or threat.

Five doesn’t react to the tap, he just stands stiffly as the woman’s finger brushes the end of his nose, doesn’t even blink at it.

It sets off a lot of very loud alarms in Rob’s mind.

[hockey-hoe-24-7]

In That Dress?, feat Andrei Svechnikov

Warnings: Smut, some roughness, jealousy, not proof read

Length: 1,777

“Remind me again why I can’t go?”

Rolling your eyes, you looked away from your reflection in the mirror to your boyfriend who was standing in the doorway, pouting. Looking at him, you had to smile and internally swoon. Only he could look that good in simple grey sweatpants, a sweater, and a childish pout on his face. It was infuriating sometimes, how he always managed to look incredibly attractive. It was something you had been meaning to speak to him about.

“Because my boss says you will be a distraction.”

“Because I’m so good looking?”

You gave him a glare, but it was completely buffered by the smile you couldn’t hide.

“Because if you were there I wouldn’t be able to devote my full attentions to mingling with the guests, and attention would be on you when it should be on what the event is about. He says you are more than welcome at the next event, but this one needs to go perfectly.”

He didn’t look like he liked that answer, but he didn’t argue either, so you went back to applying your makeup, aware of him still hovering in the doorway.

“So you’re going alone?”

“Yep.”

“In that dress?”

“Yep.”

“Hm.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in the mirror. 

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You look amazing.”

“Why thank you.”

“That’s a problem. You look too good and every single guy there is going to hit on you.”

You rolled your eyes, capped your lipstick, and turned to face him. “Andrei, every guy there isn’t going to hit on me. And even if they did, you know I wouldn’t do anything.”

He frowned and pushed himself away from the doorframe. “Of course I know that, Y/N.” He walked over until he could run his hands slowly over your hips, which were displayed very well in the dress you were wearing.

“I also know that every guy there is going to imagine fucking you out of this.”

Leaning into the heat of him, you placed your hands on his chest. “And how do you know that?”

“Because it’s what I’m imagining right now.”

You narrowed your eyes again and gave his chest a light push. “Uh-uh. It took me forever to get my hair right and you will not ruin it.”

He gave you that trademark smirk, his eyes hooded and glinting. Cocky little bastard.

Knowing how weak you were when it came to giving him what he wanted, you twisted in his arms and went back to work on your makeup. 

You felt Andrei’s grip flex. If there was one thing he did not like, it was being ignored. He probably saw your warning as a challenge.

Your assumption was confirmed when you felt Andrei’s fingers run across the back of your neck, gently moving your well-sculpted curls over your shoulder and out of his way. When he touched his lips to the back of your throat in a teasing kiss, you couldn’t help but shudder in response.

“Andrei...”

Of course, he completely ignored you and continued what he was doing. With deft fingers, he unhooked the top clasp of your dress and began tugging the zipper down. With every few inches of skin revealed, he left a long, warm kiss. Your makeup abandoned, you gripped the edge of the counter, tried to calm your stuttering heart as Andrei went lower and lower.

When the zipper reached your waist he laid one long, final kiss to the small of your back, letting his teeth only just graze the skin.

His hands left your body and you took a deep inhale, trying to compose yourself so you could finish getting ready - your brain went haywire when his hands wrapped around your ankles and moved swiftly up your bare legs, taking the hem of your dress with it.

"Why aren’t you wearing panties?”

“Um, the, uh, lines...panty lines...”

Andrei growled something in Russian and you shivered at the sound.

A large hand at the small of your back was pushing you forward and you went with it, leaning over the counter until your curls brushed the marble surface.

You gasped, clenching your fists as he licked a long line up the seam of your pussy, applying a delicious amount of pressure to your clit before moving away. You arched your back, desperate for more and he complied, settling in between your legs, a hard grip on the back of your thighs as he continued to lap at you. His pace was slow, teasing, but you knew his grip well enough to sense an urgency behind it.

“Baby, please...”

An uncontrollable groan bubbled from your chest as he pushed his tongue inside of you, one of his hands rounding your hips to rub at your clit. Just as you were about to tumble over the edge, he pulled away, leaving you gasping, your pussy fluttering around empty air.

Before you could say anything, he was swiftly coming to his feet, reaching in his sweatpants and pulling out his cock. Shoving your dress further up your back, he collared the back of your neck with one hand and guided himself inside you with the other.

You both shuddered and groaned at the familiar sensations; you at the breathtaking feeling of being filled up by him, Andrei at the exquisitely painful heat and tightness of you. Leaning his head against your back, he flexed his hips in a shallow thrust, taking a long moment to savor the feel of being inside you. When you shifted impatiently beneath him, he tightened his grip on your neck and clapped his other hand to your hip. Holding you steady, he pulled his hips back and thrust back in. As he ground hard, you whimpered, trying to push your body back against his grip. He held fast, your strength nothing compared to his.

Pulling out agonizingly slow to both of your groans, he pushed back in. Again and again he did, faster and faster until he was pounding into you, your hands sliding against the marble, your hipbones slamming against the marble edge. You stole a glance in the mirror and saw him behind you, his eyes shut in pleasure, his head lolling back in ecstasy.

When the orgasm came, it washed over you like a wave, pulling you under and robbing you of every sense until the pleasure was all you knew. Andrei continued to thrust into you, slow and languid as he took you for everything you had to give him.

You leaned your forehead against the high curved sink faucet, trying to catch your breath. You felt Andrei’s breath hot on your neck as he leaned his forehead against the bare skin of your upper back, his chest muscles flexing with every breath. It was a long moment before he began to pull out of you, your pussy clenching around him. He kissed down your spine as he pulled away, letting your dress fall back over your hips.

As you both raised your heads, your gazes met in the mirror. His eyes were hot and sated and you looked thoroughly fucked, your face flushed and your dress hanging off your shoulders. His hands were suddenly back on your hips and he was spinning you around, clenching his hand in your hair and slamming his mouth onto yours in a a kiss that was more a mark of possession than anything else. You clenched your hands in the fabric of his sweatshirt, only able to hold on for the ride as he drank from you.

With one last sharp nip to your bottom lip he pulled away. “Now no one will doubt you’ve been fucked.” A spark of irritation found its way through your fading arousal and you summoned up a half-assed glare, which was buffered by the heat in your eyes.

“You’re horrible.”

A smirk. “I’m aware.”

You pushed on his chest, not moving him an inch. “Get out. I have to finish getting ready. And I’m going to be late now.” As you turned back to the mirror, Andrei zipped your dress back up, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder before fastening the clasp. “I have something for you.” You raised your eyebrows in question, but got no answer as he twisted on his heel and padded down the hall to his bedroom.

Just as you finished putting on another layer of lipstick, he reappeared, something clasped in his clenched hand. Your heart skipped when you saw what he was holding.

His number #37 chain lay against his palm, the silver glittering in the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. You gave a valiant effort, but there was no hiding the huge smile that broke out over your face. He smiled wide. “Turn around.”

You did as you were told, moving your curls out of his way as he reached over your head and pulled the chain around your neck, fastening it at your neck. His hands lingered on your skin and his eyes met yours in the mirror again. The heat in his gaze made you swallow.

“Now everyone knows who you belong to.”

The words made your thighs clench, but you knew you couldn’t let that snark slide, so you elbowed him in the ribs. When you turned back toward him to give him a soft peck, he fisted the chain, pulled you forward and gave you another claiming kiss. 

“Don’t stay out too late,” he murmured against your mouth. “Or I’ll have to come and find you.” With those parting words, he handed you your coat, which you hadn’t realized he was holding in his other hand.

The event was a hit and your boss pulled you over multiple times to congratulate you with a giddy smile on his face. You would also have to be blind to not notice the male attention you were receiving. There were quite a few who would admire you, then run their gaze smack into the chain hanging around your neck. You guess they recognized it because they all looked away, flustered and tugging at their ties. Every time they did, you thought of a few hours before, how Andrei had felt pounding inside of you, reminding you that you were his.

You all but raced home after the event, finding your boyfriend on the couch playing video games. When he saw the look on your face, he was moving, bending down to throw you over his shoulder and prowl back to the bedroom.

You ended the night on top of him, his hands digging hard into your hips, yours braced on his chest, and the #37 brushing the skin of your chest.

[tintentrinkerin]

Title: Pink Pulse

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rating: explicit

Tags: Bottom!Dean, Top!Sam, Witch OC, Magic, Demon Blood!Sam, Horny Idiots, Breeding kink, Dean has a magic pussy, slightly crack!fic

Summary: Dean wants to piss Ruby off and reclaim Sam as his. During a bender he meets Mandrake, a shady witch who offers him help.

Word Count: 4.5k

READ UNDER THE CUT OR ON AO3

When Dean Winchester regains his consciousness on this cold and foggy morning, he doesn’t really expect a surprise. He’s been drinking for a day… or maybe two, after Ruby, this damn bitch!, showed up again to lure Sam back. It’s her usual fucked up game, she does that when the angels aren’t looking. Sometimes, Dean knows it, Sam secretly calls her and when he sneaks out, Dean knows where’s going. And when he returns he stinks of blood and skank.

Dean’s head hurts like crazy. It takes several attempts for him to roll from his stomach to his back and then get a grip on the dumpster he’s lying next to and swing his body up. His feet feel jiggly and his stomach seems to be empty but he’s nauseous as hell. He hasn’t been robbed, that’s a good thing, his phone, his purse, even the keys to the Impala are still in his pockets. He checks his phone.

It’s 7.38am. Okay, great. He might’ve just passed out a few hours and if he’s super lucky, Baby is parked in close distance.

His phone shows several texts from Sam and from someone who calls themselves “Mandrake”. Doesn’t ring a bell. Not yet. Rather, Dean browses Sam’s texts which tone switches from mopey, to angry, to frightened and then there are over thirty missed calls. Holy shit, was Dean really gone for just a night? Dean tumbles out the alley and winks at the bright daylight he’s now exposed to. He might call Sam before he really freaks out. Some memories flare up in his brain about the damn fight, and that Dean insisted Sam was caught by Ruby so easily because he was underfucked and needed pussy a little too bad. He still thinks he’s right.

There is something to that word. Pussy. Dean loves saying it, Dean loves eating it, Dean loves everything revolving around it, but when he accused Sam of being a horny underfucked loser craving some, he felt bitter about it. A feeling that he had earlier, before Sam went to Stanford. Now Dean is a grown ass man with the Apocalypse on his heels, he has more pressing issues - or so it seems.

He phones Sam while stumbling through the alleys and trying to find Baby. Damn. His pants feel weird. Like he has a wedgie. In the front.

“Dean! For fuck’s sake, where are you?!”

Dean stops in his tracks and scratches his crotch.

“Chill out, Sammy. I’ll find out where I am, I just need to find the damn car.”

“I was a second away from letting Castiel locate you.”

“Forget the damn angel, I’m on my way.”

Sam scoffs into the phone.

“You’re such an idiot. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“No, no, I don’t. I thought you’re sucking pussy all night.”

Sam hangs up without another word.

There it is again, this fucking thought. That Sam could be out fucking Ruby while he’s been… what? What exactly happened between nightfall and now? There was a fight, not physical, but Dean has been so fucking close to slap the bitch across the face. Sam stopped him.

Dean finds the pub where he supposedly was drinking his anger away. It’s closed. The “Full Moon”. And it’s been a full moon last night. How damn right poetic. His phone rings.

“Yo, Sammy - wanna apologize and admit you’ve been eatin’ her all night?”

A female voice on the phone laughs. Dean frowns.

“Who’s this?”

“Mandrake. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember jack. Where’d you get my number?”

Dean knows, he should hang up. This is maybe a very bad idea. Give too much away. This woman sounds familiar but a lot of women do, he’s not exactly in celibacy since he’s back from Hell.

“I got it from you, idiot. And I got something else.”

Dean follows the main road for as long as he somehow feels he’s been here before. He surely didn’t drive far from the motel but far enough that Sam wouldn’t find him. This is so not usual for Dean. Being a mopey idiot? Yes. Getting drunk? Also very much yes. It itches in Dean’s pants and when he makes sure no one’s looking he sticks his hands in his boxers.

Holy shit. What the fuck.

Sam can’t focus. He sits at the motel room’s table, trying to do research, but he just can’t block out all of the things that distract him. The flickering TV. The humming of the air conditioning system. His fingernails clicking on his laptop’s keyboard. The thoughts. All of his thoughts combined as sinister and hilarious and frightening they are at the same time. Dean’s been gone for two damn nights. Okay, now he’s back, sitting on the sofa, manspreading. Only in his now deflated looking underwear. Watching something on TV that Sam can’t process. He sees the images, but his mind is racing like crazy around all the other things. The goosebumps on his own arms, the sound of his own breath. He feels the harsh and fast pumping of his heart, circulating his blood. He can feel his pupils dilate. And his legs won’t hold still. He has to move somehow.

Ruby’s blood wasn’t enough last time. The fuck wasn’t enough. Everything aches inside Sam. Anger is like a fist in his stomach but he isn’t quite sure if the anger is the fuel of everything.

He knows Dean hates it when he bounces like this, his legs are shaking and damn, something is pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Of course it’s not something. Thing is, he wants to ignore it.

Dean seems to be calm right now, but he’s sitting right under the air conditioning, the blow is ruffling his hair while he stares on the screen, his arms crossed, legs spread out. He scratches himself. There. Sam follows the movement and gulps.

And then, shit, Sam, stop fucking looking at your brother’s crotch! - but he can’t stop! - Dean isn’t scratching anymore. Two of his fingers press right between his thighs, the fabric rustles, and it turns wet. The fucking boxers get wet. Dean doesn’t even seem to notice, but he should. It’s his body! It’s his-

Sam can’t even think it without feeling a rush of hot blood and sharp imaginary knives stabbing his lower stomach. Pulse spikes up. Pupils dilated. Mouth waters. Sam tries to hide a grunt but he can’t.

“Sammy, you good?”, Dean asks, still rubbing his-

Sam looks at him. He must look like a drug addict in withdrawal. Well, maybe he is. He’s maybe addicted to- it’s all Ruby’s fault. She came when Dean died and she lured him in, now he can’t stop thinking of her warm salty blood in his mouth. Or his teeth on her skin. His tongue-

“Fuck.”

Dean looks irritated.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry, I don’t even remember most of the fight. It’s only twelve or thirteen days from now and I’m-- I’m normal again.”

Sam inhales. Dean’s scent was building over the last couple of hours and now it’s so thick, musky and intoxicating that it’s hard to ignore it.

“Shut up and take a shower.”

Dean now closes his legs and presses his hands on his thighs. He looks at Sam with furrowed eyebrows.

“There’s nicer ways to tell me I still stink of garbage.”

If it was only fucking garbage! Sam is so close to yell it, to jump up, throw the table over or punch a wall.

“You don’t stink.”

“Then what?”

Dean gets up and walks towards the table. His chest is heaving, Sam notices. Breathing heavy. Such a broad chest, covered in goosebumps. Sam feels incredibly sick all of a sudden.

“I can smell…”, Sam needs to cover his mouth and nose with his hand. The closer Dean comes the worse it gets.

“Now tell me already, if I don’t stink anymore what’s the problem?”

“Dean, I could smell a chipmunk’s fart from miles away, that is a problem.”

Sam needs to breathe. He jumps up and throws himself over to the window and opens it. He should’ve done that way earlier, he realizes. But Dean is behind him now.

“Unless we have chipmunks with flatulences in here, I still don’t have a clue what’s going on.”

Dean touches Sam’s shoulder. Adrenaline. Dopamine. Oh holy shit, the whole hormonal time bomb erupts inside Sam’s body. When he turns around, he’s sure he looks super frightening to Dean, but he can’t stop, won’t stop and pulls Dean close. Dean freezes. A shaky little laugh.

“Sammy… what…”

“I can smell your pussy”, Sam growls, his lips on Dean’s skin.

Dean doesn’t smell like a woman at all, everything about him is testosterone, if there wasn’t this tiny anomaly about him.

That he got himself hexed by a shady witch.

There’s no struggle against Sam’s force when he pushes Dean against the table and then -- as if he waited for it -- Dean hops on that table, opens his legs for Sam.

“What are you doing?”, he still asks, his green eyes big and glassy, lips a cute pout.

Sam has no answer to that than before: “Your smell drives me mad. I need…”

What does Sam need? His brother? His magical pussy? Or wouldn't it be easier to run away to mountains nearby and scream from the bottom of his lungs until he passed out?

Decisions, decisions.

Dean's face has the colour of fresh pink guava juice, his freckles pop, his eyes pop. His lips part for a second. His tongue flicks. No Sam knows exactly what he needs.

“Do you need it? My pussy?” Dean whispers. He slowly pulls his boxer briefs down to his ass but then Sam needs to help, Dean clings on him, Sam pulls. Dean lays across the - thank GOD, long table and is spread out like a delicious meal, while Sam frees Dean from the fabric. It's more ripping then pulling and Sam groans, shit, he's ripped them apart. But then, when Dean opens his legs even more, lying here on his back like a beetle, helpless and weirdly pliant, the odor of Dean's pussy makes Sam cuss and tumble.

“Fuck, Dean…”

“Huh? Not good?”

Sam is out of words, super-ego just logged out with an ‘I have no power here’ and damn right it doesn't!

Dean's pussy is perfect. Another grunt. Holy shit. Instead of an answer for Dean, Sam kneels between Dean's wonderfully wide spread legs. His brother is the definition of a bottom here. Just opening his legs for anyone. Even Sam. The smell is intense and rich, Sam knows it from the other women he's been with... but Dean has one perfect twist. He smells like Sam's brother, too. Musky and citric. And that makes Sam go lizard brain.

“I need to taste you.”

Dean now even slides closer, his legs lie on Sam's shoulder. Sam jerks up and leans over the table, over Dean's naked body. This pussy is just the material of Sam's wet dreams. His nose rubs Dean's skin under his belly button and Dean moans.

“Do it, Sammy. Fucking do it or I'll push your face in my pussy myself.”

Well. Not the worst threat he's ever received. Sam's hand trails between Dean's legs and when he feels the wetness, a fucking intense wetness that is spread all over. Even the thighs are a little glossy from Dean's fluids.

Sam needs to see. Going down, he pushes Dean's legs apart even wider and dives in between these legs. Pink and juicy, dripping wet. The smells almost knocks him out, makes his mouth water and a generous drop of drool falls from his lips. He cannot fucking take that anymore. And Sam pushes Dean closer to him, winds his arms under Dean's now trembling legs and -

Dean cries out, muscles flex, he kicks out, then sinks down again. Just one damn lick.

Sam is in such rage that he can't be fully a gentleman here and do everything slowly, patiently. He's hungry and his primal urge has taken over. Greedy, he licks up and down Dean's labia, tongue working and opening his brother's pussy up and Dean sounds so fucking hot. No girl or guy ever made him sound so needy and so desperate for a fuck. He tastes just as good as Sam imagines when he sucks the thick and sweet wetness from Dean's pussy, sucks on the folds while his fingers run up and down Dean's thighs and Sam needs one free hand now, his thumb rubbing just above the hood of the clit, other finger just teasing his entrance. Not really pushing it in, just a little rubbing while Sam sucks and licks and circles Dean's clit with his tongue.

Dean feels like he is losing his mind. Not only that Sam really is between his legs and gives him mind blowing oral sex, fuck, Dean loves it. He thought Sam was angry but the way he devoured Dean's pussy, anger was definitely gone. He can't stop moaning and winding and his hands in Sam's hair. When he looks down and sees his brother's face up and down, he looks very focused on what he's doing. And in Dean feelings build up, it's a heat and a tumbling, never felt like this.

In a moment of taking a deep breath and Sam looks up, Dean's juices run down his chin and in the collar of his shirt. “Dean, you taste so good…” he says and bites in Dean's thigh. Doesn't hurt. “Better than anything.”

Dean shudders. He needs more.

“Sammy, keep going.”

Sam smirks, his thumb circling Dean’s now swollen and hot clit, his whole pussy is slick with his wetness. No woman Sam ever had sex got that wet.

His thumb is gentle, a perfect rhythm of circling. Stopping. Circling. Stopping. Little pressure. Dean’s body feels on fire.

“Is that what the girls tell you when you go down on them?” Sam asks, his voice rustling leaves.

Dean can’t help but utter a short, almost hysterical laugh.

“I never really listened.”

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk, Sam clicks his tongue.

“You should’ve. Not only that. Listen to what they say but what-”

Sam finger slides in Dean’s wet pussy with one fast but well adjusted movement. Dean winds and arches his back. Tries to get Sam’s finger away and yet…

“-when they want to escape you, you’re doing it right.”

“Sam, for fuck’s sake! I had enough sex with enough people to know the god damn basics!”

But feeling it himself gives him a whole new sense for it. Sam’s finger moves, wet sounds, in and out and it takes not even a blink and Dean begs for more. Two fingers, holy shit, Sam’s fingers are thick and long and when he starts fucking Dean’s pussy with them while sucking on his clit, the impulse to turn on his stomach and either crawl away or present his naked ass to invite Sam to fuck him -- Dean wants both!

Sam’s ‘come hither’ movements tighten the knot in Dean’s stomach. That’s not what an orgasm feels like for him when he’s about to blow. This is so much deeper, feel tight and hot right up to his lower belly. The noises Sam makes as he sucks Dean’s clit are downright vulgar. And the faster Dean’s breath goes, the more he tries to wind away, Sam’s hand around his upper thigh is a bench vice - he won’t let Dean go. Not unless…

Dean can feel it. He whines “fuck, Sammy, ‘m gonna cum…” and this would be the same moment he came. If Sam just sucked his dick. But this is… slower. And Sam goes absolutely frantic, like a boxer he just goes for Dean’s weak spots and he has definitely found them now and he rubs Dean’s insides, sucks his clit, damn how big can such a tiny thing swell? And Dean fucks himself on these fingers, his rhythm clashes against Sam’s, the bigger the friction, the better. His fingers clench in Sam’s hair and then finally, Dean comes, he feels like exploding, black dots in his sight and he has to close his eyes. His heartbeat goes straight up to his throat, only faint moans, a ‘holy fu…’ but he can’t even finish a fucking curse. Sam won’t stop fucking him, but slower now, more gentle. His tongue presses against Dean’s clit. Dean feels Sam’s breath on his wet skin. Everything tingles still, Dean’s hornystupidmanbrain is on standby, extremities just twitch helplessly.

When Dean opens his eyes he only sees the dirty brown ceiling and the dim light.

“I need a smoke”, Dean blurts out. Oh, the sweet refusal to acknowledge what just happened.

“Fuck, you clenched so hard I thought you would break my fingers.”

Sam sounds so deep, so gravely. Does Ruby hear that a lot?

Dean laughs, trying not to choke on his jealousy. Sam just ate him out. His brother. Just. Ate. Him. Out! Dean feels like he took drugs, heavy, light, euphoric. Not tired. This doesn’t seem to end in a hangover.

“Sam. I really, really wanted that”, another stupid thing to stay. But Dean’s stupid, especially when things are about Sam.

Sam scoffs. “I guessed, otherwise you would’ve punched me to a pulp.”

“Damn right…”

Dean covers his face with his arm, the dim light is too much right now. His breath hasn’t even calmed down yet and somehow, he has to admit, he’s not satisfied. The climax gave him a solid blank for a couple seconds but even now he’s throbbing and wet, Sam’s spit hasn’t made him any drier.

Dean is still a powerhouse of sex, Sam can’t deny it. Resting between his legs doesn’t help but he doesn’t dare to get up and reveal that he is rock-hard and ready. Eating his brother out has been a wild ride already, something he maybe dreamed of as a teenager (but even then - who would imagine Dean as a girl?), of sucking him off like he saw when Dean brought a girl or a dude home. Sam needs to get himself up, slowly, Dean is lying there, arm covering his eyes, but a smile on his face. He grins like an idiot. It’s cute.

Silence.

Awkward.

Sam doesn’t know what to say now, he’s lost control, because his brother grew a pussy. How could you ever explain that? Gladly he doesn’t have to.

Dean gets up, his eyes look teary, but not in the sad I’m-about-to-cry way. He rather pulls Sam close and whispers, something so idiotic, something so innocent, and yet something that makes Sam’s boner grow even more.

“You didn’t even kiss me first.”

“Sorry”, Sam replies, he’s just as stupid.

Dean makes it easy for Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and kissing him. This is just another short circuit for him and before Sam realizes what he’s doing, his vision turns red. His instincts and his lust are wired to the taste and smell of blood - and Ruby. This is not Ruby. Gladly, this is not Ruby. It’s Dean. The one he thought of when it first happened, the one he was mourning so deeply. Now he gets what he wants from the person he wants. Bingo.

His brother is heavy, but Sam’s strength is to be reckoned with these days. It’s easy to lift him up - Dean’s legs wind around his hips, his ass feels so great. Firm. Dean moans in his mouth when Sam throws him on one of the motel beds and follows, laying his full weight on his brother.

“Sammy…”

Damn, Dean’s fumbling on his zipper.

“You’re big.”

Scoff.

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” Dean looks really intrigued. Sam lets it happen. Dean slides a hand in his boxer briefs and squeezes his raging dick.

“Fuck. Dean.”

These big pleading eyes. Sometimes Dean looks at him like this. And he looks younger than Sam now. Needy. Small. Vulnerable. Sam can never say no when Dean looks like this. He kicks out of his jeans and Dean is so damn impatient. Fabric tears on the seams. Sam doesn’t care.

The way Dean strokes him, the close they are it would be easy, way too easy just to slide inside Dean. Feel his wetness, how tight. How hot. And greedy. Swallowing Sam’s cock like he did with his fingers. Dean stops him. Sam’s heart sinks. It hurts.

“Take everything off”, Dean just says, “I don’t want to feel like quick fuck-”

Sam just has to laugh.

“Never”, he vows and then pulls the shirt over his head and throws it over his shoulder.

The way he towers over Dean, ready to mount, he feels like a steam breathing monster. He really shouldn’t do that. He’s spiralling down to something he never wanted to be. But he can be with Dean this way. Just this once…?

More than once…?

Dean’s legs around his hips trap him now, he can feel the slick wet folds on his cock already and all he can do now is just thrust in. Around his fingers Dean already felt like heaven and hell on earth, but this. Sam hisses, he feels like growing fangs, he digs his teeth in Dean’s neck, he tastes salt and sweat, Dean whimpers but doesn’t complain.

“God… so deep…”, he says. Like he can’t believe it.

“Hurts?”

Dean makes a sound that says ‘nuh-uh’ and that’s enough for Sam. He even pulls Sam closer, his legs force his cock deeper inside this fucking wet and inviting pussy.

This is so much better than Ruby. He needs to fucking forget her. The deeper he sinks, the harder he thrusts and sweat runs down in his eyes and makes them sting, he forgets about what all of this could mean for them. He just wants to fuck Dean silly. And Dean clings on him like he’s drowning in this feeling, no matter how harsh Sam is. His hips are snapping, damn, it must hurt, right? He eventually slows down to kiss Dean sloppily and open mouthed, their moans intertwining and building a cacophony of sounds, loud and rough, soft at the same time. Sam manages to slow down a little and Dean relaxes.

“I want you to fuck me from behind”, Dean mumbles on Sam’s lips, trying to hide the fact he’s blushing deep.

Sam huffs.

“Yeah. Whatever you want.” Babe.

He almost called Dean babe. Sam winds out, slides out, winces. It feels so good, Dean’s so wet, Dean’s just perfect.

On all fours, arms spread out like a silly yoga pose, back stretched… Sam definitely dreamt of this more than once. This time he pushes in slowly, and Dean arches his back. His breath staggers, yelps. But yet again, after a second of adjusting, Dean starts moving. Fucking himself on Sam’s cock and saying such nasty, irritating, hot things. He mewls and begs for more and then.

“God, Sammy, cum inside me!”

Sam stops. Dean repeats. “Cum inside me!”

There’s no way Sam can deny him, he’s close since Dean started working him like he did it a thousand times already. Sam grips those hips tight, leaves white marks, then pink long traces of his fingernails as he snaps in Dean’s pussy, shit, these sounds. Juicy and full, and Dean’s longing. This is the best fuck. This is it. This is what will blow Sam’s mind for hours, the whole night. Days.

“You want me to breed you, big bro?”, he hears himself say, the animalistic side, awake, fully in rage makes him say it, he can’t stop. “You want me to pump my load in ya?”

Dean nods frantically, his mewling and crying is so pretty. He’s still bouncing on Sam’s cock, his wonderful, round and firm ass, perfect for slapping. And Sam does. Dean whimpers, “please, more, Sammy, more!”

Sam claws at Dean’s hair, pulls it, overstretching his neck. He’s so out of control he might fuck Dean all bruised and sore.

“Touch your clit, c’mon babe, rub it. Cum on my cock and you’ll get it. I’ll knock you up”, whoa.

Dean does it, his hand traces down his body and he starts rubbing his swollen, red, overstimulated clit, squeezes it between his fingers and starts rubbing, circling.. hard to find the thing that gets you going, right? But soon, Dean writhes even more, his voice turns higher. Legs start shaking. “I think I’m gonna-”

He cums on Sam’s cock, clenching and moaning, getting so wet it drenches Sam’s crotch and runs down both their legs. The feeling is amazing, Sam’s checked out once again, babbling “Good boy, good boy” and then shoots a generous load of cum, he tumbles and hips snap and snap, until he’s finished.

They collapse, sweaty and gasping for air, Dean makes incoherent post orgasm noises.

Another period of silence that is only interrupted by the usual motel room sounds that creep back in Sam’s ears. He wants to pull out but Dean claws on his arm, his legs trapping Sam’s.

“No, no. Not yet. Please not yet.”

Sam sinks back and gives Dean what he needs, the closeness. Even though after some time fluids will dry and get cold. It will get sticky and that’s when Sam will have the urge to shower.

Not with Dean. They stay like this for minutes before Dean turns around, Sam lets him. They lay beside each other and the whole scene is hilariously and bizarrely romantic. They keep kissing and Dean’s like the devourer of Sam’s kisses and affections.

Dean rubs his nose on Sam’s, humming. He seems so proud of himself, so satisfied, but then his eyes widen.

“Oh. Shit.”

He gets up on one elbow and looks at the mess they made. Cum is leaking out of him and he wipes it from his thigh. Tastes it.

“Dean, really?”

“Hey. It’s only natural. Have you never been curious?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah I was, but I never thought you would be.”

“You know this breeding kink thing. I did that before but I- I mean. Hot fantasy, works with anal but… Do I need an emergency pill now?”

Dean’s face is deadpan serious. Sam clears his throat to hide that he actually wants to laugh. How could he know?

“Just to be sure, I would say a magical pussy isn’t spunk proof. We could get to a pharmacy ...”

Dean falls silent and leans into Sam. There’s so many things unsaid and he’s not in the mood to unpack it. Sam is reluctant either. It’s enough for him to hold Dean close, pet his hair and keep kissing him over and over until they feel in the mood again. That Dean’s been hexed is a secondary matter. They will enjoy it as long it lasts.

Sam goes down on Dean, even when he’s still leaking cum, he just swallows it, he doesn’t mind. And when they get tangled into each other, both thinking ‘well, if he needs an emergency pill we’ll make it worth it’.

Consequences? Which consequences?

Apocalypse might come, they might enjoy every fucked up delightful thing along the way.

[arysafics]

if you're taking smut prompts rn please write one where bellamy gets spanked (by clarke obviously)

i mostly just wrote this to prove that i still can write something short and simple in under a day. so thanks for the prompt!

i'll be good (rated e, ~2k words)

He’s standing there in Clarke Griffin’s unnecessarily huge office, his pulse racing, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The huge window behind her offers him a view of the sparkling city lights, and the only illumination inside the room comes from her desk lamp. It’s well after knock off time, the rest of the staff went home hours ago.

Bellamy, however, had been forced to stay behind to finish his article for tomorrow’s issue of the magazine. Never mind that it’s Clarke’s fault he didn’t get it done on time. If she just let him do his work, instead of calling him into her office every hour, bossing him around like he’s her assistant and not one of the senior writers at the company.

He’s the one who should be sitting in that editor’s chair, not her.

And yet he still does her bidding, still has nerves churning in his belly as she reads over the final draft of his article, desperate for her approval. Perhaps she is more suited for the editor position after all.

“It’s good,” she says, looking up. “Well done.”

Bellamy breathes a sigh of relief, and he tries not to preen too much at her praise. All she said was well done for fuck’s sake. Not exactly the most glowing review.

“Thank you, ma’am” he says.

“However,” Clarke continues, and Bellamy tenses. “It was late.”

He nods, swallowing thickly. The thundering of his heart starts up again. “Yes, ma’am.”

He’s only like this with her. Agreeable. Meek. Submissive. It would embarrass him, if his co-workers knew what he was really like, when it’s just him and the boss.

With them he’s confident, brash, arrogant. He tells snide jokes about her, tells them how he was robbed of the promotion, what he’d do to her if she ever let him fuck her. He repeats it all to her later, apologetic, grovelling, and she laughs before she punishes him for it.

“You know what that means, don’t you, Bellamy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he croaks. “You have to punish me, ma’am. I deserve a spanking.”

The thing is, he likes being punished almost as much as he likes being praised. He can already feel his cock hardening just from the implication of it.

“Come here,” she says, crooking her finger, her voice raspy but even. She quit smoking three years ago, but it left her with the sexiest fucking voice he’s ever heard.

She stands as he walks over to her, and he lets his eyes rake over her. She dresses in what he likes to call “professional sexy” for work. Tight blouse tucked into a tight skirt. Stilettos and red lipstick. She uses her femininity as a weapon, and he’s not the only one it works on. She’s a force to be reckoned with.

He stops in front of her, heart pounding, waiting for her next instruction. They’re almost eye to eye when she’s wearing heels, only the tiniest bit shorter than him.

“Take your shirt off,” she commands him, and he obeys with shaky hands. It’s not necessary really, for the punishment. But the more naked he is, the more humiliating it is, no matter how good he looks naked. Plus, he thinks she just likes looking at his chest.

She reaches for his belt, and he flushes as she unbuckles it, not breaking eye contact.

“Turn around,” she whispers. “Hands on the desk.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He can feel Clarke behind him, and his skin prickles with anticipation. She trails a finger down his spine, and he forced himself to hold still. His cock is fully hard now, straining at his fly.

She reaches around and deftly undoes his pants, then pushes them down to his knees. He can feel her soft breasts press against his bare back as she reaches around him again, her hand coming to rest on his crotch. The scent of her floral perfume fills his nostrils.

“Hard already?” she says, a teasing lilt to her voice that simultaneously turns him on and humiliates him. “Naughty boy. Sometimes I wonder if you enjoy these punishments a little too much.”

He does, he absolutely does. He doesn’t know what he’d do if she stopped. If she decided he wasn’t worth her attention anymore.

She peels his boxers away then, dragging them down to join his pants at his knees, so his bare ass is on display for her. He shivers as she runs her hand over his cheeks, and his cock throbs.

“How many spanks for a late submission?” Clarke wonders aloud. “It is your first offence. But I don’t want to let you off too lightly. Shall we say fifteen?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t forget to count them for me, baby. And no complaining or I’ll have to start over,” Clarke warns him. He nods, brain still latched onto the way she called him baby.

The first slap is quick and sharp, and he gasps at the impact. She lands a second blow as soon as he’s counted out the word one, and then a third and fourth follow in quick succession, right in the same place.

She doesn’t hit hard exactly, but tears prick in his eyes by the fifth smack, and he’s sure he must have a bright red mark on his brown skin.

“Five,” he whimpers. His ass stings, and yet it feels so good. She switches to his other ass cheek, and repeats the process, spanking his toned ass in five short, biting blows.

He doesn’t complain, just counts each slap a little breathlessly, feeling emasculated as he whimpers and whines, tears in eyes as his boss spanks his bare bottom like he’s a naughty child.

His cock is absolutely aching, his balls ready to burst. He wants her to allow him release, to touch his cock, rub him or suck him or ride him. Anything to release the tension, the tightness in his gut. But he still has five smacks left in his spanking.

The last five she delivers at random, so he doesn’t know which cheek she’s about to hit, and it makes each one more painful and more delicious.

“Thirteen,” he moans, his ass cheeks on fire. “Fourteen. Fifteen,” he gasps out, as Clarke gives him his last spank.

He’s breathing heavy, his face hot. He’s almost crying, feeling embarrassed and chastened and unbearably horny.

“There,” she says. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And what is that?”

“Get my articles in on time.”

“Good,” she says. She opens her desk drawer and pulls out a bottle of lotion, squirting some onto her hand. “Good boy,” she says soothingly, and his cheeks grow even hotter, his stomach swirling, his cock jumping. “You did such a good job,” she coos, rubbing the lotion over his ass, gently cooling the stinging hand prints.

He’s not sure which he likes more, the punishment itself, or the part when she rubs his bottom and tells him what a good boy he is. If he had a tail, he’d probably be wagging it right now.

She finishes rubbing the lotion into his skin, and then he feels her dainty little fingers slip into his ass crack, teasing his hole for a moment before pushing into him. His breath catches, and he lets out a moan of pleasure.

“You like that, don’t you, baby?” Clarke murmurs, pressing her lips against his shoulder as she fingers his asshole. “Love it when I play with your asshole.”

He nods, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yes ma’am. It feels so good.”

He grips the table, and it’s all he can do not to wrap a fist around his cock and start jerking like his life depends on it.

“Please,” he whines pitifully.

“Please what?”

“Please, I need to come,” he chokes out. “My cock, please touch my cock.”

“Is your cock feeling neglected, baby?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whimpers.

“Show me.” He turns around and Clarke’s eyes fall to his massive erection. “Goodness,” she says, teasing. “Look at that big, hard cock. You need to come so bad, don’t you? Got all worked up from your spanking.”

Bellamy nods, hoping she’ll take pity on him. “Please.”

“I’m not sure I should let you come,” Clarke muses, and Bellamy wants to cry. If she pulls his pants back up and makes him walk out of here with this raging erection, he’s not sure how he’ll survive. She doesn’t let him masturbate. Only she’s allowed to make him come.

“I’ll be good,” Bellamy promises. “Please, I promise I’ll be a good boy. I’ll do everything you say.”

“You’ll do everything I say regardless of if I let you come or not,” Clarke points out. Bellamy whines, and he hates himself for how pathetic he sounds, but he can’t help it. “Okay,” Clarke relents. Bellamy’s stomach lurches, and he forgets how to breathe for a moment as Clarke lowers herself to her knees.

The first brush of her tongue over the head of his cock makes him jerk his hips forward, and she pulls back, looking up at him, disapproving.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I’ll be good, I swear.”

She nods, then drops her focus back to his cock. He forced himself to stay still as she licks him all over, down the length of his cock, over his balls. She takes him into her mouth, just halfway at first, sucking him, then taking him all the way into the back of her throat, so her nose is touching his pelvis. He has to throw his head back so he doesn’t come from the mere visual of it. If he comes before she says so, she may not let him come for days. Weeks even, if she’s feeling particularly cruel.

She backs off a little, worshipping the top third of his cock with her mouth, her hand wrapped around the base. She’s on her knees, her mouth full of his cock, but she’s still the one in control, still the one with all the power. He’s helpless, weak, completely at her mercy. Which is how he prefers to be.

She lavishes his cock until he’s at breaking point, desperately trying to hold off his orgasm, and then she gives his thigh a tap, the signal that he’s allowed to come. Then she moves the same hand to his ass, pushing him over the edge with just the tip of her finger in his asshole.

He moans as he comes down her throat, hips thrusting forward against her face, pleasure shuddering though him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

She pops off his cock smacking her lips and wiping her mouth. He collapses against the desk, his bottom still aching from his spanking.

“Thank you,” he pants.

Clarke gets to her feet, and presses a kiss to his lips. “Get dressed, baby, you need to get home and shower if we want to make the dinner reservation on time.”

Bellamy nods, but his head is still a little foggy, and he lets Clarke dress him instead.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he breathes. It’s not even the best orgasm she’s ever given him, yet it still takes him a while to come back down to earth. It’s her, he thinks. It’s just what she does to him. “My ass hurts,” he admits. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sit.”

Clarke gives him sympathetic eyes. “I won’t make you sit the whole time,” she promises. “At some point I’ll need you to get under the table and lick my pussy, because spanking you and sucking you off has made me very wet and very horny.”

Bellamy gives her a lopsided grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And if you’re good at dinner, I may even let you come home with me, would you like that?”

“Yes.”

She gives him another kiss. “Good boy,” she murmurs. And he really does feel good.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Never Be Sorry, Not For This (part 2)

NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW 

Ya boi is back and feeling extra spicy- SMUT AHOY  

You woke up thinking someone had broken into your room, hands blindly swinging at the dark shape that loomed over you

“It’s me!” Gene hissed, cool hands grabbing your wrists and gently dodging your flying fists. “Kicked your canteen over on accident, I didn’t mean to wake you mon cher….”

Heart still in your throat, you have to blink up at him a few more times before his words seem to make sense to your sleep addled brain.

“What time is it?” you ask, but before you can take your arm back to check your watch Gene’s slid in between the salvaged bLankets you’d piled for the both of you and taking your watch off of your wrist and tossing it by the foot of the mattress.

“Late. Early. try to go back to sleep, I’m sorry I woke you—”

“Don’t be….missed you.” Turning to face him you press a quick , chaste kiss to his lips. “Glad you’re here.”

You’d known and loved each other for nearly three years now, and he still got flustered whenever you told him simple and straightforward things like that- I’m glad you’re here, you make me so happy. I love you more than I can say, you now that don’t you Eugene….?

“guess what?” he asks softly in the darkness, and you grin.

“Hm?” you grumble as you refocus, nuzzling your cold nose into the warmth of his neck and kissing the soft skin apologetically when he hisses at the temperature.

“It’s your birthday.” 

Well, I wasn’t ….it was?

You roll onto your back, Gene’s warm body following yours as he gives you a small smile. 

The mattress you were sharing was old and smelled musty but after weeks of sleeping sitting up in the backs of cars it was practically heaven.

Anytime you got to be alone with Eugene Roe was practically heaven.

The only time that seemed to happen lately was during the coveted designated rest time, but you were far from complaining.

 Because, as amazing as sleeping with Gene is, nothing compares to sleeping beside Gene.

You’d never met someone so affectionate, and that affection did not lessen just because he had fallen asleep. He's always touching some part of you- an ankle hooked around yours, his sleep-slackened hand heavy on your thigh, steady breath raising chills across your chest as he burrows for you.

in Georgia, you’d lamented the overwhelming heat of his body on yours. Youd bitched and moaned that you were melting and he was just making it worse.

I’ve made you melt before, mon cher. I think you’re just too warm...

 But here in Europe- with it’s frigid days and even colder nights, you’d become the touchy one. He didn’t seem to mind the change.

 He brushes his nose against your temple as he kisses along your hairline, inhaling the smell of the shampoo Easy had been gifted upon their return from the frontlines the day before.

“Do you think I can get Luz to sing me ‘happy birthday’?” you tease, arching your back to stretch your sore muscles.

He seems to consider that for a moment. “Knowing George Luz, I'd say the bigger challenge will be getting him to stop singing to you.”

You nod in the pale light of the room, your warm chuckle turning into a sigh when he placed a sweet kiss on your lips. “You raise an excellent point, Doc. Knew you were more than just a pretty face…”

You feel him smile against your cheek, and when he pulls back enough to look at you he just looks so content that it takes your breath away. 

 You hold his face in your hands, unable to stop the amused smirk that crosses your face when he leans into your touch.

You both stay like that for a moment, enjoying e/o’s presence in comfortable silence until you see a thought form in his mind that suddenly has him eyeing you somewhat knowingly.

“Remember your last birthday?”

 Your grin is gone, mouth popping open surprise at the sharp turn his mood had taken.

 like you could forget anything about your last birthday.

 Well, more accurately- anything about your birthday celebration with Gene. 

Unwilling to let him see how instantaneously the mention of your night at the club had gotten you flustered, you pretend to think for a moment, bringing a hand up to tap at his chin.

“Hm, not sure? Remind me what we did?”

He kisses you with a roll of his eyes, mouth tasting of toothpaste and cigarettes.

I remember when I first kissed him. He tasted like whiskey-smoked sugar and i thought i was going to burst into flame.

“Red silk,” he murmurs. “Pecans? You, forgetting how to breathe and dance at the same time—?”

You scoff a laugh at that, bringing his mouth back to yours and shutting him up with another kiss.

He breaks the kiss with a soft curse, taking a deep, ragged breath when your hands find the hem of his shirt and push it up enough that you can touch his bare back. You gently scratch at him with your short nails, a greedy feeling of lust blossoming in your chest at the prospect of Gene being at your mercy.

Almost as if he could read your mind, he starts shaking his head as if he is trying to clear it.

With a bite at your bottom  lip Gene rolls atop you sto he can rest between your splayed thighs, kissing you twice more before purposefully rutting against you and letting you feel the firm press of his cock.

“Yeah,” you pant, nodding against his cheek as you desperately try to catch your breath. “I think it’s starting to ring a bell….”

“Well, if you’ll allow me to remind you….”

You’re nodding before he’s finished his teasing offer, thighs coming up to rest against his waist. “Si-to-ple (please).”

like a gunshot signalling the beginning of a race, your plea opens the floodgates and Gene is everywhere.

His french has become too fast and interspersed with (what you assumed were) regional words and phrases too specific for her to understand, but just from the tone you know he’s telling you about the dance you’d shared. 

It hadn’t been until the singer finished her set that the two of you had finally seemed to surface from whatever libidinous spell the night had put upon you, embarrassingly aroused and looking absolutely wrecked.

His hand had refused to part from the dip of your waist, wordlessly guiding the both of you towards the door and across the street to the motel you’d both individually gotten a room at.

the only time he’d stopped to speak was to ask you which way your room was, and you had decided to show rather than tell…

 His fingers were stoking the slick fire between your legs, having long ago made it his mission to learn your body’s secrets until he knew it nearly as well as his own.

Of course he’d blushed when you’d made it clear that you wanted to know him just as completely, but after you’d made it obvious just how badly you wanted to please him.

“More,” you whimper, cutting off another hushed devotion he had started mouthing against her collarbone. “Please, m'amour?”

You knew how distracted it made him when you would pepper in a french phrase here and there, but but when you did it in bed? He’d forget himself, something in the way your lips curled around the foreign sounds adding a more desperate fuel to whatever fire he has burning in him for you at the moment.

This time was no different.

“tricheuse (cheater),” he adminishes lightly, heel of his hand grinding against your clit. “What do you want, mon cher,  what can I give you?” 

Fuck, why did he have to talk like that? Simple questions should not sound so much like dirty talk but dear god it really does.

 “Tell me what you need,” he’d whispered that night, having helped free you from your dress and your slip gathered uselessly around your waist. “I’ll give you anything, i just need you to tell me…”

 “I want to feel you,” your words have him rutting against you like he’s nervous, and you hear him swear that you’re trying to kill him. “I want you to be inside me, God I want your cock so badly—”

His tongue in your mouth quiets you enough for him to process your request, and when you look up at him he shakes his head in  awestruck disbelief.

“Okay,” he eventually says, once he’s had a moment to stare down at your heaving chest and regain control. “Okay, sweetheart.”

 the first brush of him against your bare lips had you begging like a sex-deprived pervert, and you couldn’t stop babbling about how he already felt so good and made you feel so good you didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

he’d whined when you finally welcomed his soft intrusion, lips trembling with want as he licked the sheen of sweat from your skin.

“Don’t stop,” he’d gasped when you’d made purposeful eye contact with him and bore down on him, and the squeeze of your hands on his ass told him that you really meant what you were begging for. “I don’t know….you’re perfect. Just keep...YESSsssss…”

 You feel how close you are, Gene’s rhythmic rocking somehow finding stride in your embarrassingly wanton writhing, the air between you nearly as hot as it had been all those months ago.

“I’m close, i’m so close, my love….” your words are more air than voice, but you know he understands because he’s nodding as he bites at your nipple softly. “I want you to come, too. That’s what I want, Eugene- please let me feel you when you—”

“Don’t —” he groans, one of his hands flying up to cover your mouth. His stomach trembles against yours as he changes the tilt of your hips just so before starting a punishing pace that robs you of any ability to think coherently. “Don’t you dare say something like that- FUCK, especially when you’re looking a t me like that—and expect me not to fucking burst—” 

I love you I love you I need you too much. you’re so perfect, you ruin me.

Please don’t let me go. Please stay here with me.

 The building wave in your belly finally crests and you’re gone, a breathy wince twisting your face as the hand that had been on your mouth jumps down to your clit as your orgasm crashes you to and fro.

In a tremble of his own he quickly pulls out of your sex and spills himself onto your stomach. As he comes, his grip on you is almost painful, but some part of your blissed-out mind relishes the idea of finding bruises on your hips and thighs later.

“Yes,” you sigh, even though part of you wishes he’d forget about being responsible for one minute and come inside of you. “Oh, God yes, Gene…”

 You know why he doesn’t, you know why he really shouldn’t.

Last time, he had. 

He also almost had a panic attack at the idea of getting me pregnant the last time, so i guess this is a fair trade.

He’s still fighting to control his breathing when you take his face i your hands and iss him sweetly, speckling kisses across his face as you pull him to your chest and hold him there.

 “So good,” you’re cooing, drunk on endorphins and your lover. “Fuck, you’re too good at that…”

He barks a laugh, the sound warm and sleepy against your neck. 

You reach for one of your wet washcloths from your shower earlier and wipe his cum from your skin, rolling your eyes when he grumbles an apology.

“Maybe next time you can come in my mouth, if this embarrasses you so much.”

his entire body stiffens at that, and when you start to laugh he prods you gently in the rib.

“That’s it. I’m dead….I’ve died. You’ve killed me.”

You recover the quickest between the two of you, and you wrap your arms around him and trace patterns across his back until his breathing slows, the sweat on your skin cooling and leaving you feeling sated and dirty.

“Whoops.” you say, not even trying to sound sorry. “But….my point still stands.”

you feel him shake his head, and you let your eyes slide shut when he presses a wet hiss to your shoulder.

“Je suis amoureux de vous.” 

you nod,even though you know he can’t see it.

“I know, and I’m in love with you, too.”

“Happy birthday.” he grumbles, or at least that's what you think he’s said. 

You’d shared a bed with him enough by now to know that Eugene was going to be asleep within the next forty seconds, so you shifted slightly so you were more comfortable beneath him.

“Just wait til next month,” you say half to yourself, calculating the days between your birthday and his. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

But he’s already snoring softly, and he doesn’t hear your threat.

You duck a kiss to his temple. “I really do love you.”

 In his sleep, Gene mumbles your name, and you decide that maybe being soft for someone isn’t so bad after all.

(WOW HERE’S PART TWO. It’s pure filth. It’s gross. I need to go drink some water and think about what i’ve done)

tagging @georgeparisole , @itswormtrain , and  @a-big-ball-of-idk bc y’all commented and gave me the incentive to crank this out

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

The Joan Jett Quartet

Word Count: 3500

Warnings: NC-17 BDSM, extreme language, consensual bondage and paddling

A/N: Decided to do a short series of erotic drabbles based around Klaus x Reader during his first year with Destiny's Children. They'll be "Tied" together with "Do You Wanna Touch Me There?"

Tag List: @robertsheehanownsmyass​ @frogs--are--bitches​ @firstpersonnarrator​ @elliethesuperfruitlover​ @rob-private @forenschik @super-unpredictable98 @bisexualnathanyoung @messengeronthemoon @magic-multicolored-miracle

Book 2- Bad Reputation (Klaus x Fem!Reader)**

There was no doubt you had been on a complete power trip after your tryst with Klaus and the table. Smug satisfaction on your lips everytime the two of you passed one another in the mansion. You held your head high while all he did in return was roll his eyes and shake his head, cheeks flush.

The last straw for Klaus was one moment when you passed one another on the stairs. You held your fingers up in a V-shape in front of your mouth, snaking your tongue in and out obscenely. He grabbed you by the wrist and yanked your body flush with his. Your heart raced with desire as those exasperated eyes glared at you.

“You've been telling others our secrets,” his voice low.

“Of course. They're my friends, and they are interested in why The Prophet keeps choosing me to meet behind closed doors. I didn't know it was a secret, ” you grasped his neck with your free hand and tightened so that your nails dug into his skin, “these proclivities.”

There was a sharp intake of breath as Klaus visibly shook under your grip. An erection twitched against your hip and grew the tighter you clutched. Then suddenly lifted your chin upward. His thumb pressed hard into the bone so you could only look him in the eye.

“If I wanted any of them to know what gets me off, I could've asked any number to play with me. I'm pretty fucking sure they'd be better at it, too. Uppity bitch with your uninspired tit fucking. too good for the strap-on unlike Jill and Kitty.”

Your heart fell and pounded in your ears the entire way down. But you remembered yourself and him. How the game could start any time he felt up to it. An unspoken contract the moment you agreed to restrain him and dominate him. This was just payback because you made Klaus human to the other Children.

“It's my turn to play”

Your face was hot with want. There was a wetness between your legs at the thought of it. His lips moved centimeters from yours so you could breathe what he exhaled. Your hips ground into him.

“Bring a blindfold,” Klaus instructed. “I'll bring the paddle”

------

You stood in the living area of Klaus’s wing. You shifted from barefoot to barefoot in a large sweater and your underwear. Your hair twisting and untwisting around a finger without thought. The sleep mask you brought as a blindfold laid out on the arm of the sofa. You shocked yourself that the sight of a paddle, makeshift in haste from a kid’s toy, turned you on.

“Can't say sorry for being late,” The sound of Klaus’s voice made you jump out of your skin. A sly grin spread across his face, “Nervous, doll?”

He stood in front of you now, that long beard gone and his hair wrapped up in a bun. “Couldn't get the fucking thing off. (It was fake) At least that's one secret you've kept.” His hand ran down your arm and waist around to your ass which he rubbed all too briefly.

Now Klaus leaned in to kiss your forehead and cheeks before lifting your chin so that his lips could meet yours. “You totally get that you're one of two people I trust in this room?”

You looked around assuming he meant himself. “Yes.”

“And you get that I've been mostly myself with you.” You nodded an understanding. “Good girl. You definitely fucked that up by gossiping about me, so I have GOT to punish your insolence. Can't have you squawking to the other chickens in the henhouse that the fox enjoys being pecked.”

Klaus laughed at his own metaphor. Not maniacal, in an honest giggle the way he did when he found himself truly humorous. You loved that about him. He could command attention with his “sermons,” but in your bedroom the nights he came to you? He thrived on making you smile.

His face became serious again, “This isn't some master slave bullshit either. I was raised by servants, and trust me it fucking bothers me. Mom, a bit mechanical as she was, managed fine on her own.”

Klaus was lost in thought but shook his head. He made his way behind you and spoke in your ear, “I just like playing with you. You choke me and fuck me while I lose consciousness. I spank you and make you swallow my cum until you learn to keep secrets. And if you're good, I'll fuck you too.”

The breath caught in your throat at how casual he was. How he brought sexual freedom to you and the others. Nothing was too perverse as long as everyone agreed, and you consented to this eagerly.

“Good. Now the safe words,” he fitted the sleep mask down over your eyes, “are Spice Girls.”

“What?” you snickered.

There was a swift open handed slap on your ass that stung beautifully, “Correct response is?”

“Yes, Prophet.”

“I want you to take your sweater off, but as you do stand with your feet slightly apart. Then bend forward.”

The chill in the air caused your skin to goose pimple as soon as your sweater left your body. You complied, unable to tell which direction Klaus was coming from. Your heart raced with excitement.

As you leaned forward, his hand caught you by the throat. The other warm and flat on your back. He ran it over your spine and to your ass which he rubbed before he gave another slap. This time even harder to your delight. When you didn't flinch, he repeated himself. Harder still. Once more before he dipped his hand between your legs and rubbed your sex through your panties.

“I figured you may enjoy the same things I do. Look how wet you already are, and I haven't even used the paddle. And this ass, honestly there's so much to work with. More men should appreciate a thick one.”

The friction of Klaus’s hand picked up as he kept working you through the fabric. Then he withdrew it and that pleasured sting came one more time. Harder. You choked on a moan.

Over the backs of your thighs now and over the hips his hand went. “These hips too. Perfect for when I want to ride you like we're dogs or tease that little asshole.”

That part wasn't really a turn on to you. When Klaus played with you there, unable to switch off how he might please a male lover from a female.

Your thoughts fell away as that roaming hand took hold of your panties and removed them. The hitch in your throat as you felt him tug you forward with the hand on your neck. Klaus massaged your naked sex with the palm of his hand. The heel found your clit and pressed into it before you knew he had pulled back and raised his hand. He brought it down with such force on your bare ass that you lurched forward. It was wet.

“Now you're quiet?” Klaus inquired. “I wonder how long the chicken can go before the fox makes her cluck?”

There was a rush to your head as he righted you. He unhooked your bra and removed that too. Klaus pinched your nipple. Then the other. He traced the erect skin with a fingertip. Your back arched because his body leaned into you. The loose tendrils from his bun splayed across your chest as he bit the top of both of your tits. Still no sound.

“You're tits are, like, the perfect fucking size for how large my hands are,” each word emphasized by a hard squeeze as he roughly kneaded them.

Without warning, Klaus dropped them and dipped his fingers inside you. He pumped them deftly in and out, circling your clit and worked it until you started to pulsate. He drove you just mad enough.

“I can't believe how fucking wet you are. Do I make you cum?” Klaus’s fingers moved quickly and your legs started to shake. “Do I punish you some more?” Fingers out of you, hand on your throat to swing you forward again so he could spank you somehow even harder. Once. Twice.

“Or do I sit and watch you fuck yourself until its time to suck me off?”

Still bent in half, Klaus pushed his fingers deep inside and pumped them again. Assaulted your clit. “No, I'm too hands on.”

Then a white heat filled your core and spread. Your sex constricted around Klaus’s fingers as you came. A loud squeal turned moan echoed off the walls. He held you steady by the neck as he rubbed out a second orgasm and made a tsk tsk sound.

“Guess I've got my answer. More insolence when I wasn't ready for you, and you broke your silence!”

You couldn't even comprehend Klaus’s next move. He stood you up and then bent your arms so your hands were on the back of your head. The position when you're under arrest. You could feel his bare chest against your back, erection just beneath his linen pants in your ass.

Klaus held your hands to your head and stepped away from you. Three swift hits to your ass, “I knew you wouldn't keep quiet long.” Each word again emphasized the rhythm of his punishment.

You took a chance, “Please forgive me, Prophet.” Your body shook with endorphins.

“Debatable. Can’t exactly talk with a mouthful of my cock now can you,” Klaus was still holding your hands above your head. Free hand that spanked you reached around to pinch your nipple another time.

This was the first time you realized he had yet to kiss you. That was so personal. This was.. you weren't sure. But once more thoughts escaped you as he pushed you blindly forward. His hand in your head dug into yours and your hair.

Once your knees came into contact with the soft velvet of a chair, Klaus stopped. He let go of your hands and gestured for you to drop them. He left you momentarily before returning to your side. His hands brought leather around your neck to the front and pulled a bit to tighten it but not the way he can handle. Cold metal against your spine.

“It's a collar and restraints. I get to control just how much of my cock you take in and you won't be able to stop me or help yourself. Next time you'll choke on the gossip like you will me.”

Klaus’s voice was low in your ear. His lips were inches from your skin. Goatee and mustache brushed against your neck as he locked your hands into the cuffs attached to the chain. He knew how that drove you fucking mad and blazed a trail with his chin and lips across your collarbone and shoulder without actually kissing you. Your arms straight down, hands near your ass.

You gasped out loud this time; an insufferable moan left your mouth. The collar tightened when the sound escaped your lips. Klaus laughed. His gin soaked breath filled your nostrils briefly before you were yanked to your knees. His hands twisted up in the back of your head once more and he held it tight while he freed himself from the pants.

Klaus sat down in the chair with his legs spread enough to maneuver you between them. You knew he used his spare hand to hold his stiff cock in place as he tugged your head forward towards it. The tip lost in your cleavage.

“I have to give you credit. Letting me tit fuck you was such a thrill. It's so tight in here, reminds me of your cunt. Then you can swallow my dick until I cum,” there was a shrug to his tone now.

Still he began to thrust his erection back and for in your tits. Klaus’s hips lifted off the chair to connect with your chest. He anchored himself with you and kept going. You could feel the head of his cock hit your neck, slick with his own fluid. He started to growl under his breath the faster he bucked and squirmed. Your sex reacting without thought with a notable swell.

“The tits are so fuckable,” he writhed. Looks like The Prophet had a new favorite type of foreplay.

Suddenly Klaus switched on you. “Open your mouth,” he commanded as your head was wrenched forward.

You complied, and Klaus shoved his cock so deep in your mouth it hit the back of your throat. You gagged momentarily and he cried out in ecstasy. You let your throat do it again.

“Keep doing that,” he pushed you onto him even further if that was possible.

Then Klaus pushed you up and back. His hands forced your mouth to do what it could on its own. You bobbed up and down on the shaft, wrapping your tongue around it on the process. His grip slackened so he could caress you instead.

“Like that. Now lick it and just the head.”

Again you kept repeating the instructions. Your jaw hurt and muscles began to ache, but you knew The Prophet’s cues by now. One more deep-throated constriction and..

Klaus exploded in your mouth. The salty liquid hit you and you swallowed only some. The rest you held knowing what would happen if you spit it out. So the moment he let you sit back, you assumed so he could adjust himself for another round, you turned your head and spit.

“Did you just fucking spit when I told you I was going to make you swallow my cum?” his question bordered on furious. A finger hooked through a loop in the collar and he heaved you up off the floor so you stood. Your body marveled at his strength. Your sex reacted accordingly.

“Just when I thought she knew how to behave, the little chicken showed her true self. Get on the chair and bend over my lap. Ass up, face down on the arm.”

Cautious to hide your eagerness, you did your best with your hands chained. Still you managed and bent over Klaus. The velvet soft under your knees and face resting into it. Your sex pressed against his cock as it stiffened a second time.

There was a brief moment of self confidence that you managed to hide the blindness made you nervous. You had a general idea most of this evening where Klaus was positioned or coming from, but it was that uncertainty that slicked you with wetness. The anticipation of his next move. The ultimate trust in someone who literally fell out of the sky.

Now that move was Klaus leaning over then a sensation of smooth wood on your bare ass. The other hand tangled itself up in the chain along your back. Tightened just a bit so the collar did the same. Another gasp for air and Klaus’s erection poked into you, strained against your pubic hair.

“You broke the rules by spitting,” the paddle came down on your ass several times. “You broke the rules by laughing at me earlier,” words punctuated by the delicious sting at every other word. “And you broke,” this time he took the edge of the paddle and swiped it between your legs. Delved between your folds to hit your clit just right. It wasn't rough, but it was enough so you understood.

“MY TRUST!” now Klaus bellowed. A hard paddle to your ass and the back of your thighs. Had no longer choked the chain. Instead he pinched your nipples alternately as he punished you.

Klaus brought the paddle down harder still several more times. The force of it pushed you down onto his cock. He thrust a bit up at the motion so your hips came together and apart. It was doing something to you besides making your legs go weak. You ached and throbbed in your cunt, longed to be penetrated. It wouldn't come for now.

“I'll give you a chance to apologize,” now Klaus let go of your tits and pulled you by the chain so your back curved. Your face off the arm of the chair. “Turn in my direction when I'm talking!” Paddle collided with your tender skin.

You moved best you could towards Klaus’s chest, “I'm sorry Prophet.”

“For?” Paddle gone, he gripped a handful of your ass and dug in.

Sharp intake of surprise breath. You rolled into his cock. “Gossiping, Prophet.”

“I can't hear you,” open-handed slap. “Red is definitely your color.”

“FOR GOSSIPING, PROPHET!” you cried out loudly.

“Fine,” indifference in his voice, but his cock said otherwise. “My arm is tired. I want you to fuck my thigh.”

You stumbled and nearly fell as you got off the chair. Your legs waived with chemicals from the paddle and prior orgasm. Now you managed towards Klaus’s lap, straddled his leg and sat astride. You situated your cunt on his thigh and started to ride him in earnest.

You found it difficult to balance as you undulated yourself back and forth. Balance off slightly until Klaus held you steady. Helped you rock powerfully into him. The friction and heat from his body drove you insane as you rode with abandon. You were already swollen as you ground as hard and fast as you could. Klaus’s hands, spread out over your back. His fingers ensnared by the chain.

“That cunt of yours is so fucking wet, like you're sliding on ice. Careful your clit doesn't burst just yet,” he teased.

Then without warning an incredible hard crack to the ass and it was too late. You shuddered violently and screamed out as you rolled yourself through the orgasm. Breasts heaved as you struggled to catch your breath.

“I'd be disappointed,” Klaus’s mouth close to your neck and collarbone once more. Facial hair just touched the surface of your skin as he held you down. “But wait until I tell the other Children how she loves being disciplined.”

Then you were on your feet so Klaus could probe you. He played with your clit to elicit another orgasm. That sting of a hand to your skin forced another explosion.

You collapsed into his chest but instead of catching you, he simply started to undo the cuffs and chain. He turned it around expertly and wrapped your hands up around front. Handcuffs locked, forearms together which he tied together and hooked into the collar. Your arms tight to your chest.

“Now get up. You're gonna get fucked.”

Then Klaus did something that both shocked you and turned you on. Where the strength came from you still don't know, but everything about him was otherworldly. The rush of him lifting you off the floor to throw you over his shoulder was powerful. The quick sting of exquisite torture that you just weren't sick of yet followed by that infectious laugh signaled his demeanor changed entirely.

“I can't believe you've fucking kept up,” he tossed you on the bed.

He rolled you face down, cuffs undone and arms forward so he could lock them to a headboard. “There's no one else who could. They can barely manage orgies. Ought to give my sex swing a go next time” Klaus mumbled and climbed up behind you, your hips and ass lifted skyward.

The head of his cock teased the crack of your ass, which he spanked as a reminder. Klaus tested your trust by slipping just a bit inside that space where no one was ever allowed. You cried out but not in pleasure as he tried.

You never thought it would happen, but you just weren't ready. “Um.. Spice Girls?” It was a question muffled by a pillow.

Klaus stopped, “Excuse me?”

“SPICE GIRLS!”

“I thought as much. Can’t ever know till you try to fuck someone’s ass.”

Then wordlessly Klaus plowed into your ever-slick cunt. His hips hit your ass and filled you to the hilt. Over and over he pounded you with a furious speed. Periodically slapping you with such extreme force that the pillow encompassed your face.

“This hot, tight cunt fits my cock so well. Fucking snug and able to take all of me.”

Klaus grabbed your hair and bent your neck back as he kept at it. Welcomed pain deep inside from his cock practically inside your stomach, or so it felt. Suddenly he pulled out and came on your back and ass, warm and sticky all over your raw and bruising skin.

Later: the two of you with arms and legs tangled up together. You snuggled into Klaus’s chest, a sweetness as your mouths meshed. His hands soft as they ran over you after having applied a cooling lotion to your welts and funny enough, bent to kiss them tenderly.

“Next time, Prophet-”

“Klaus.”

“Right,” you smiled. “Next time it's my turn, and I THINK you're gonna get pegged.”

Klaus leapt out of the bed with almost childlike glee. “I'll show you how to wear it.”

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Jaskier x firebender reader - We need a horse

Summary: Jaskier is tired of constantly walking, so he convinces you to find a way to get a horse.

Warnings- shenanigans, fighting, death of bad guys, Jaskier fluff 

Masterlist

You and Jaskier are standing outside of a tavern as Geralt does whatever on the inside, you’re guessing it’s finding a new monster to hunt. Or perhaps he could be swooning over a fair maiden, yeah that doesn’t seem very plausible. You shake the thought out of your head as you lean against the side of the stony tavern, your boots in the dirt. Jaskier stands to your left fiddling with a piece of his tunic, as he watches random village goers walk by.

“I’ve just had a thought.” He says from out of nowhere. You push yourself off of the wall, nonchalantly resting your hand on the hilt of your sword that’s positioned at your hip.

“Oh here we go.” You quietly mutter.

“Maybe we could all take turns on Roach.”

You chuckle, “Yeah that’s unlikely.”

“No seriously, we have to walk all the time from village to town to castle to wherever the fuck the money and monsters are....so we should take turns riding Roach.” He argues, trying to get you on board with his new idea.

“I mean...I guess you do make a compelling argument.” You tell him with a shrug.

“See! I’m telling you Y/N, when that grumpy old snowbear comes back outta the tavern from whatever indulgences he’s getting into....I’m gonna tell him.” Jaskier exclaims, ever so sure of himself.

You give him a half-convinced nod, “You do that. I’ll watch from over there, by the carpet seller.” You tell him as you head towards the table across the road. His eyes widen at the realization that your a no-go for his plan to get Geralt of all people to share Roach. “What? You’re not going to help at all. This is Geralt. He won’t give a flying fuck about what I’m saying...but if I have you...we have a winning argument.” He tries his best to persuade you, but you appear unflinching as you turn around to look at him.

“Jask, I’ve know Geralt awhile...he’s not gonna go for it.”

“But Y/N.” Whines Jaskier with a pout. You step in closer to put your hand on his shoulder in an attempt at trying to comfort him, while you give him your most sincere smile.

“Listen there’s a vender over there who sells really nice travel bearing boots....some of them look very....er up to your tastes.” His face falls at that, so you abruptly remove your hand from his tense shoulder.

“Well you’re certainly no help, thanks for nothing. Sorry I’m not...well...whatever you are that makes it so easy to just walk everywhere and not apparently get tired.” He sasses, folding his arms and turning around with a dramatic huff. You roll your eyes at Jaskier’s pettiness, no matter how small the act.

You shake your head with a annoyed frown, “It’s not my fault I’m just not a little bitch.” You jest, whisper yelling the last part, gods Jaskier can be such a little princess.

You casually mosey on over by the shoe vender taking a good look at their diverse array of footwear, you look up again to glance over at a pouty Jaskier that’s looking over his shoulder to find you. When your eyes meet you stick your tongue out at him and he quickly looks away, staring intently back at the tavern door.

“Hello miss are you looking for something specific?” Asks an older man from behind the counter. You turn towards him with a small smile, “Oh um, I’m just looking for a friend.....just seeing what you got.” You reply giving him a nod as you look down at all the boots. He does have a nice gathering of travel wear as well as for parties and...

“Oh come on Geralt. Some of us don’t have a horse. It’s only fair.”

Your head snaps up at the sound of Jaskier, you watch as Geralt ignores him while he starts walking over towards you. His face is a blank slate of annoyance a he makes his way to where you’re standing as he tries to get Jaskier off his ass, with your help of course. “Y/N, did you have anything to with this.” He grumbles, stopping in front of you.

You look around his large frame at a pleading Jaskier, and then back up to him, “Nope.” You deadpan, Jaskier purses his lips together in frustration, as he walks around Geralt with his hands on his hips. He goes to open his mouth but you stop him, “I’ll just buy a horse Jask.” He stands back in surprise, before his brows furrow in confusion, “Okay as great as that sounds Y/N, how exactly are you going to afford a horse?” He wonders honestly, unsure of how you’d come up with the money. Considering the three of you low-key struggle as is to find an abundance of coin.

 You cross your arms over your chest while giving them both a confident smirk, “I’ll find a way believe me.” You assure them, Geralt nods as he turns to walk away and Jaskier still looks troubled.

You roll your eyes at him while you link your arm in his, the both of you begin to walk in Geralt’s direction. “I’d really like to know how you’re going to get us a horse...but then again, maybe I don’t.” He muses, you pull him in closer to you, whispering in his ear. “There’s a pack of bandits on the outskirts of the village woods. I plan on robbing them for coin and whatever other valuables they may have.”

His eyebrows raise as he tilts his head to you, “That’s smart. Hmm you’re gonna need a lookout or...ah right! A distraction.” He says excitedly, always ready to get into trouble with you whenever the opportunity arises. 

“Shhh...you want everyone to hear us. And besides I’m going alone.” He stops walking and holds onto both of your forearms. “Y/N. I need new material for a ballet, please let me go with you.....I mean the action, the danger, the gore, and uh...theft. So much potential.” He whisper yells while looking deeply into your shining eyes.

“If you keep giving me that look with those big blue eyes of yours I’ll crack. And last I checked you can’t exactly defend yourself as well as either myself or Geralt. You can get hurt Jaskier...” He holds up a finger to silence you.

“Y/N my love, my rose in a dead garden, my feisty foxy woman, my lamppost guiding me through a dark forest on a cold winters eve...my..”

“Jaskier.”

“What? I’m on a roll... you inspire me my dear.” He tells you grinning cheekily.

You shake your head smiling at him adoringly, “Gods alright, you can come along...but you’ll have to hide and....Stay. Out. Of. The. Way.” You warn him firmly, Jaskier just grins happily, bringing up his hands to cup your cheeks. “Ah, I love you.” He exclaims joyously, smashing his lips into yours. He pulls away abruptly leaving you dazed and wanting more, as he pulls you down the trail leading to Geralt and Roach.

“Eh..uh...okay then.” You mumble, smiling brightly like a huge lovestruck idiot. Dammit Jaskier with his stupid smile, and voice, and his even stupider charm. He’s the only person who’s able to break you enough to give in and let him get what he wants. If you could slap that infuriating grin right off of his smug face, but in all honesty you’d rather kiss it off him instead.

----

Later that evening you get up from your spot near the campfire. Geralt watches you suspiciously as he sits in broody silence trying to figure out what you’re up to. Jaskier finishes his rabbit leg, flicking the bone into the fire as he stands up to follow your lead. Geralt’s eyebrow raises, “And where are you two going?” He mutters. You snap your armored gauntlets onto your forearms while you look up at Geralt. “I’m finding coin.” You answer, reaching out to pick up your infamous metal chained whip, perfect for slaying monsters and taking out bandits and whoever else is in your way. “I’ll be back later, don’t follow me.”

“Oh and I’m coming too! I’ll have a fresh new ballot by this time tomorrow...it’ll be fantastic.” Gushes Jaskier, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“Yeah...uh... he won’t be near me.” You assure Geralt with an honest nod. He shrugs, not wanting to bother in your guys’ business. “Alright then. Let’s get a go on things. A horse won’t buy itself after all.” Says Jaskier enthusiastically, putting his hands on his hips. You pull up your hood, turning to quickly grab your camouflaged scarf to then adjust the dark green material to help better conceal your face.

“Here you might want this.” You tell Jaskier as you hand him a dark cloak, he gladly accepts it, throwing it on with ease. “And this...just incase.” You add while handing him a small dagger that’s lying secured in its sheath. He cautiously takes it, giving you a nod as he tucks it into his vest. You stand back to give Jaskier a look up and down, as he fumbles around with his cloak, completely oblivious to your amused gaze.

“Jask!”

He suddenly stops, snapping his head up to look at you, his hair flopping into his eyes. “Yes, my love?”

“Let’s go.” You tell him while walking away into the woods and out of sight, Jaskier gives Geralt an ecstatic smile before abruptly turning on his heels to trail after you.

The forest is dark and heavy, a small breeze rocking the branches in a strange type of dance. You look up through the cracks in the forest canopy above you, a crescent moon shows a Cheshire Cat-like smile beaming down on you from the sky. The stars seem to twinkle from high into the heavens, while back on earth the night is cool and mysterious. Your eyes adjust to the darkness now that you’re away from the comfort of the campfire light as you bring your hand up to make a tiny flame so you don’t trip on the forest floor.

Your peaceful moment is intrusively interrupted by the rushed steps of your humble bard, who’s fumbling in the dark to try and keep up with you. You turn around just in time to catch him as he has amazingly tripped on a tree root. His arms flail out as you snatch him by his torso, you little flame going out as this clash has evidently lead the both of you into a aggressive hug of sorts that sends you crashing onto the forest floor. Your back hits the grass with a hard thud as a greater pressure holds you in place from above. You suck in a sharp breath as your eyes shoot open to the weight that’s pinning you to the ground, the smiling face of Jaskier is staring right into your eyes.

“Well aren’t we in quit the compromising of positions my dear.” Smirks your bard with a cheeky grin.

“One, Two, Thre..”

“Alright alright!” Whispers Jaskier as he quickly lifts himself off of you. He holds his hand out for you to take, ever the gentleman.

“You’re as blind as a bat, why did I let you come?”

“If not I would have annoyed you relentlessly for the next week, I’d even make a song about it. Let me think....my Y/N, she hissed at me like a cat and said I was as blind as a bat, she killed for coin and touches my loins ohhh I loveee..”

“I’ll shove a leave down your throat.”

“Jeesh alright touchy. I’ll behave, I promise. You will not hear another word from me.” He announces while pretending to zip his mouth shut.

“Yeah I’ve heard that before.” You retort while turning around and heading in the direction of the thieves camp, Jaskier holding onto your cloak and trying his hardest to stay silent.

The both of you walk for another ten minutes before you begin to hear laughter and the familiar scent of cooked deer roasting over a spit. Then your eyes spot a flicker of light through the dull color of the woods, a solid indicator of where these idiots are camped. You signal your discovery to Jaskier who nods and urges you onward. You take cautious steps as you get closer, you can see the men gathered around a blazing fire, small tents behind them, and their weapons by their feet. No horses unfortunately.

“Stay here and don’t draw any attention to yourself I’m gonna kill them and then take their valuables.”

��Isn’t that stealing?”

“Not if their dead Jask.”

“Huh. Yeah that sounds about right.”

You turn back around, slowly sliding out your dagger from within its sheath as you cautiously stalk closer to the oblivious men. Without warning you lunge at the closest one, slitting his throat from ear to ear as you stab your weapon into the next one who didn’t even have time to stand. You turn around, quickly jumping over the burning fire as you plunge your dagger straight into the eye of the next unlucky fellow to cross your path. Suddenly an arrow lodged itself into your right shoulder with a sickening thwack sound. You turn towards the terrified bowmen, a flash of anger shining through your eyes as they catch sight of the local wanted rapist. You flick your hand with ease, your instrument of death slicing deep into his vulnerable chest. He drops his bow and arrow as a trail of blood begins dripping out of his parted lips. His eyes are as big as saucers when he abruptly lets out a pained gasp, falling to the forest floor in a slump of limbs.

You swivel your head around the entire camp once again, not wanting to miss anything or anyone who might have escaped. Not a sound is heard but the rapid thudding of Jaskier’s heartbeat from behind a bush. Your ears prick at the gargled mumble of the scruffy looking rapist who just shot you. Oh right, you still have an arrow stuck into your side, must be the adrenaline. 

Taking care of that problem you pull it out, accidentally snapping it off before the pointy end has a chance to properly come out. Shit. Ignoring the dull throbbing in your shoulder, you focus your attention on the slowly dying man in front of you. Leaning down, you pull out your silver dagger, wiping the blood off on his clean sleeve before putting it back in your sheath.

“B..bi..bitch.” He mumbles through ragged breaths. You give him a sneer before crushing his jugular with your boot, another cockroach squashed.

“Y/N! That was bloody brilliant. They never even saw you coming.” Gushes Jaskier as he parts the bushes so he can jog over to you.

“Well that was the intention. Uh, look for any coin...I’ll look in their bags.” He currently nods, turning to do just that, he stops dead in his tracks at a large angry balding man across from the dying campfire.

“Uh, Y/N you may have missed one.”

Snapping your head of to Jaskier you turn to the angry huff of a monster of a man who’s glaring dagger at you and your bard. Suddenly the man lets out a loud battle cry as he charges with his axe towards Jaskier and you. 

“Oh fuck.” Gasps Jaskier as you swiftly race to his side while throwing your outstretched arm in front of him. A furious blast of orange and yellow flames emitting from your palms and straight into the bulking thief, he lets out a blood curdling scream as the flames lick up his sides. Burning him alive within seconds, he falls to the ground as he thrashes and groans. Not even fifteen seconds later has he finally stopped moving, all that's left of him is a blackened charred body staining the once green grass of the clearing. 

 “Well...uh...that’ll do it.” Breaths out Jaskier as you turn to him, dissipating away the flames from your hand as you do so.

“I hope he didn’t have any coin on him, shit.”

----

The two of you walk back into camp, the fires gone to embers and Geralt is promptly snoozing in the grass while Roach nibbles at some leaves on the nearby tree. You walk over to your satchel, picking it up to stuff the concealed bundles of coin you were able to find earlier. Jaskier goes to sit down by the dimly glowing campfire as he watches you intently. You drop the old bag onto the ground with a clinky thud, deciding it best to take off your cloak and leather armored chest piece. Leaving your top half in a grey sleeveless shirt, you let out a tired sigh of relief.

“Oh..uh Y/N...you’re kinda bleeding.”

“Huh?”

“Your shoulder. Oh come here let me have a look.” States Jaskier firmly, already scooting himself in the grass so you can sit down in front of him. Not wanting to argue, and now fully well aware of the fresh arrow head still stuck in your shoulder, you oblige and sit down right next to him. He carefully touches your bare shoulder, a concentrated look on his handsome face as he studies the bloody slice in your skin.

“You’ve got an arrow stuck in there...it’s almost out but...uh...it may hurt when I force it out.” He says, his eyebrows furrowing to together in concern.

“Do your worst.”

He nods, giving you a crooked smile as he takes out a small dagger from under his bedroll. You look up to the stars as you brace yourself for the coming pain. Suddenly cool metal is placed delicately onto your skin, then it’s quickly pressed deeper into your flesh. You bite your lip as Jaskier slices open your wound even more so he can get a better grasp onto the arrow head. Finally he finds it, pulling on the broken piece of wood attached to the silver arrow and out it goes. 

“That’s gonna be a nasty one. The bloke must’v stuck you with a silver arrow...those things are sharp.” Chimes the bard as you stop his hand from covering your cut with some cloth. 

“Let me cauterize it first, heals quicker that way.” He sets his hands down and watches intently as you conjure a tiny flame from your two fingers, carefully dragging it across your wound as you hold the pain in, it melts and fuses the parted skin together as you can smell the nasty scent of burning skin and bubbling blood.

“Well at least this little midnight raid seemed like a success...those fuckers were loaded with coin. By gods Y/N we’re gonna have the best horse and...hmm I’m just imagining all the wine we could snag while we’re still near town.” He says while raising an eyebrow to you.

You roll your eyes as he then carefully wraps your shoulder in spare cloth, you turn yourself around to face him fully now. The both of you sitting together in the grass as the remainder of the fire glows lowly in the warm summer air. Jaskier gives you a smile as he adjusts the sleeves of his shirt. “You wouldn’t mind sharing a spot in the grass with your loyal bard now would you?”

“Not at all.” You reply with a yawn, Jaskier flashes you an excited grin as he pats at the soft ground, making the two of you a makeshift bed. 

Once satisfied with his work he lays himself down, looking up to you with those big blue eyes of his, pleading for you to join him. Tired and in need of a good cuddle you curl up into his side as he throws an arm around your waist. Careful as not to touch your injured shoulder in the process, your eyes lock with his as a bright smile plants itself onto both of your faces.

“Well if you aren’t the most radiant creature I’ve ever met. Oh and best part...you’re all mine.” Whispers Jaskier as he lightly kisses your nose, you let out a tiny giggle in reply, ever grateful for this tuneful idiot and the fact that Geralt is in a deep sleep.

“I took an arrow for you, when we get to the next tavern you better show me how radiant I really am.” Jaskier let’s out an amused snort before kissing you in an attempt at making you feel better for the arrow wound. You kiss him back, not being able to resist his charms for much longer, even if your shoulder still feels sore as it slowly heals underneath the cloth.

[writingbakery]

⥂ 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫 (𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬)

chapter i | price tag punch ; the last thing you’d ever expected is to see kuroo tetsuro’s lying, scheming ass again. little do you know, you’re about to get very well acquainted, all over again, for the lovely price tag of $60 million. a job’s a job, right ?

dessert pairing; international smuggler! kuroo tetsuro x international smuggler! fem reader

warnings; a solid right hook to the jaw, criminal activity, meet-ugly, reuniting exes

a/n; oh boy, i hope y’all are ready to hate kuroo’s smug lil ass !

the last time you saw kuroo tetsuro, he was harnessed to a helicopter rope above an abandoned villa as dutch police put you in handcuffs. he’d betrayed you, sold you out to the competing smugglers and stolen the briefcase containing the priceless original drafts of mozart’s earliest compositions, and he did it all with that absolutely infuriating shit eating grin he always had when he pulled a fast one on someone. usually, it was a competing thief. this time, it was you.

a years partnership down the drain, and a year’s worth of hookups & whispered love confessions burnt with that final bridge. you’d never forget the way he looked that morning, golden in the rising sun as he deserted you. your heart had never truly recovered.

luckily, you had contacts in nearly every agency; you were a free woman ten hours later, purse a little heavier from pickpocketing every cop who’d given you shit. [the hermés bag was a “self gift” from the bitchy receptionist. at least she had good taste in handbags.]

recovering from the betrayal wasn’t so easy, nor quick; you lost count of how many nights youd spent in some slicked up city bar, drowning your sorrows & scouting out new jobs. two years of rock bottom hadn’t been kind to you, but you were finally on the up & up, reestablishing yourself among the ranks of your fellow smugglers.

you were a thief, for god’s sake. you couldn’t mope forever.

thankfully, in the two years since “the dutch incident” — as you’re so dramatically labeling it — you haven’t seen so much as a whisper of tetsuro. he wasn’t accepting jobs or teaming up with anyone, not that it would matter to you if he was. in your mind, kuroo tetsuro was dead & gone; you’d like to keep it that way.

besides, you had more important things to think about than him.

you’d been tapped for a business meeting, with an elusive mr. ondori — on paper, the man was a ghost, completely off the grid. none of your contacts knew him either, so you were going in completely blind; less than ideal.

still, you trusted yourself to handle whatever life could possibly throw at you. you were prepared for anything now, & you keep that mindset as you ride the elevator up to the penthouse of an apartment block in london that looked too expensive for even your red bottom heels to walk through.

pushing open the wide, polished wood door, you can see nothing but high end furniture & floor to ceiling glass windows at first. it’s a beautiful apartment, & you’re wondering just what kind of smuggling job you were taking on when you spot an all too familiar head of spiky black hair.

never presume a thief dead until you see a body.

kuroo fucking tetsuro saunters over to your wide eyed, shocked form, a far too smug grin on his lips.

“hiya angelface — you miss me?” he looks just how you remember him; a mess of black hair falling over one eye, broad shoulders & sharp jaw shaping an unfairly handsome face. it’s like not a day’s gone by since the “dutch incident” — it’s almost laughable how little he’s changed.

for a moment, you’re both staring at each other in tense silence, neither one of you making a move to break it.

and then you pull your fist back with surprising speed, fist landing clean with a solid crack! against kuroo’s jaw.

well. that’s one way to break the tension.

when you focus again, your hand is throbbing, the lavish apartment in chaos; kuroo is whining like a bitch, blood is on the polished wood floor, & you realize with a start that he’s real. kuroo tetsuro is cowering behind a suede chair that probably cost more than the both of you combined, a split lip & a bruised jaw marring his — still stupidly handsome — face.

“i cannot believe the fucking balls on you, kuroo backstabbing piece of shit fucking rat bitch tetsuro ! you were dead to me ! dead & gone, for good, & you’ve got the audacity to trick me into meeting you here after you fucking sold me out—“

“alright, alright okay ! just let me explain, okay? please put down the vase.” you didn’t even realize you were holding it, brandishing it above your head like a weapon more like.

you lower it slowly, face not changing as he straightened himself out. “five minutes, kuroo. five minutes, then i’m leaving.”

he nods hastily, hands still up in a peaceful gesture as he watches you put the vase down. sighing in relief, he sits down in the chair, motioning towards the free one across from him — which you tentatively sit in.

“first... i’m sorry. i know it doesn’t mean shit now—“ “—you’re damn right it doesn’t—“ “—but still. i’m sorry. i’m also sorry that i can’t give you an explanation. but i’ve got a job for us now, so can we just.... put it behind us, at least until i offer you the job?”

you nod slowly, your glare not softening in the slightest; he’ll take what he can get.

“$60 million, kitten. 60. million. dollars. typical billionaire bullshit — he cheated on his wife, she robbed him of the most expensive thing he had in the house, he wants it back. in & out, okay?” the price tag makes your eyes water, & it almost seems laughably easy. except....

“why me? the amount of smugglers you could hire before me is longer than your dick—“

“ouch, kitten, no need for insults.”

“stop calling me that. you lost the rights two years ago.” he sulks a little at that, but you’re past that. he’s lucky you’re even still listening. “why me, kuroo?”

“i’ll be honest, i wouldn’t have decided on you either. i figured... i’d done you enough damage. but it was a condition of the job. i could have anyone on my team, but you had to be apart of it.” you frown at his words, confused & concerned; why would they want you?

luckily, kuroo’s got an answer for you, looking sheepish. “i’m not as good on my own, i’ll be the first to admit it. fucked up some jobs since we split. it’s probably insurance, ya know?”

the answer isn’t enough, but you accept it, mulling over the proposal with a sigh. “$60 million?”

“$60 million, ki— [y/n], & you’ll never have to see my ugly mug again. hell, you could retire. aren’t you tired of running?”

the words ring around in your head, & you can’t lie, it’s too good to pass up; even if it meant being stuck with kuroo for longer than you’d ever be comfortable with again.

“$60 million & i ghost, kuroo. i’m not doing this for you, so don’t expect me to like it, either.” from the look on his face, you’d have thought you’d agreed to marry him in paris.

“you won’t regret this, kitten. i mean, [y/n]. “ god, that’s going to get annoying.

“shut up, kuroo.”

“of course, dear.”

whap!

“ow ! alright, jesus christ kitten— put the vase down!”

bonus: “i’m surprised you didn’t know it was me. ondori literally means rooster in japanese. you’d call me rooster head all the time.”

“yeah, back when you were tolerably insufferable & not a waste of good, clean oxygen.”

“ouch, kitten. you’re a murderer with words.”

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