#Round Ash Table

[thejourneymanandco]

Bespoke Pedestal Table with Tapered Edge

This is a handmade pedestal table made from solid hardwood finished in Omso Polyx. The round top and been tapered on the underside to the edge that give the table a fine and delicate profile and very light look. The centre column is turned from a solid piece of Oak and the base is a thick 40+mm and tapered to mirror the table top (the base is 10-20cm smaller diameter than the top depending top size and height).

The piece will made in three sections, top, post and base to reduce chance of damage and freight costs. The images are from the construction and will be adding images of the finished piece soon.

The aim with this piece is to produce a simple, clean and delicate design that is a very functional piece but with a minimal appearance. It is available in many diameter and height and can be used as a side table, display table, coffee table and much more.

Like all the pieces I make it has been made by hand to order (we hold no stock). They are made with traditional tools, hand planed and cabinet scraped to create a smooth surface. The timber natural features vary in each piece of timber which in turn makes each piece individual and unique.

[ashesforart]

for the Merlin ask game 11: Random Knights Headcanon? C:

Oh this is such a fun question, thanks for the ask!

I feel like I have not been given enough insight into random Knights + Merlin shenanigans in the series-- like you CANNOT just show me the scene in 4x01 where Merlin aids Gwaine and Percival in stealing food from the kitchens and then NOT ELABORATE FURTHER??

So all of that is to say that I have a headcanon that the Knights like to collab with Merlin a bit and use his easy access to Arthur's personal life (as his manservant) to pull fun pranks on him and whatnot. Wouldn't it be cute if they got Gwen in on it too??

[bitchy-peachy]

Lmfaooooo

Gonna have to throw him in the washing machine cos he keeps rolling everywhere.🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[peachetteprice]

How it Should Be | Captain John Price

John, your husband of nine years - coming up on the big decade - who still grows pink in the face when you tap his arse and call him handsome.

He just can't quite believe it.

He knows he must be somewhat attractive because he landed you - and by God that was not an easy feat, concealing how ardently he pined for you in that dimly-lit Spoons in the centre of Hereford - despite how your brother, who joined you every time because it was the only way you could ever see John, and vice versa - had been his friend since John was twenty-five and your brother, twenty-two; he worked at the classic car garage in Leominster that John frequented to keep mint his Ford Cortina - but regardless of all of the strife he underwent to secure you as his beloved wife, he still finds himself biting back a form of childish embarrassment that forces his bottom lip between his teeth as you profess over a glass of wine just how gorgeous he is, right now, in his underwear, sipping that pitcher of beer because he ran out of Scotch.

In every other respect, he's the most stoic man you've ever met. But if you ever catch him in the kitchen, the bedroom, the bathroom, even outside in the garden and coo extravagantly about how stunning he looks, whether he be elbow-deep in grease doing the dishes, fixing his belt around his jeans early in the morning, grooming his beard before the mirror or de-weeding the patio outside, he will undoubtedly become bashful to the extent of personal ridicule, rolling his eyes or slamming his palm on the sink to exclaim that he is not, in fact, as 'beautiful' as you seem to think he is.

It's only partly a joke, but the majority of one of those parts leans towards the serious truth, which is most disconcerting, and half the reason why you spend so much of your precious time trying to convince him that he is, in fact, the most beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, handsome man you've ever laid eyes upon.

And, yes, you may be biased, because you get this one all to yourself, and no other woman can say they frequently bed a man who puts as much effort into pistoning his cock deep within you or tongueing you until you're bone-dry in thirty-Celsius weather as he does - even if the sweat on the bedsheets is beginning to pool at an alarming rate - simply because he wants you to feel loved, irreverent of his own comfort.

Oftentimes, as he is, said, knee-deep within you, you'll take him by the scalp and guide him to your neck, urging him to press his weight against you - exactly as you know he loves - just so you have him in lock and key, knowing he's unable to go anywhere until he cums, and you can - finally - whine into his neck about how handsome he is, and watch as he can do nothing but soak it in, too busy panting, grunting and blushing to respond. His face, his body, his voice, his personality, his tact, his pubic hair rutting against your clit - his everything. It's all perfect. And you'd sooner die than live in a world where he doesn't believe so.

It's why you've since taken your dedication to greater heights, explicitly professing your love for your husband in front of his boys whenever they come around, so John (and them) can see it isn't just an elaborate plot to ensure he puts his empty cereal bowl away in the dishwasher as soon as he finishes his breakfast in the morning, or to get him to wipe the crumbs from the toaster when the crumb tray gets too full, or clean the cigar ash from the ashtray on the dining room table - that he says he'll 'get round to' after he finishes his mountain of paperwork, which you know is false because it would take him weeks to climb.

It's really to make way for a kiss and a ruffle of his hair here, a hug and a grope of his butt there - just enough to let him know that, regardless of company, you think he's the most irresistible hunk of man in the room.

And, sure, the first few times are a little awkward for all of you, the boys included, as they feel they've encroached on something that best be left behind closed doors, but Kyle and Johnny - never Simon - swiftly come around to the notion that you showing your affection openly to John is a wondrous thing (Kyle truly thought, prior to then, that there might have been marrital troubles; he'd never even seen you two so much as kiss) and Johnny goes so far, himself, as to 'awh', whenever you peck John's lips, pinch his beard and call him 'cute', even if Johnny does get a sturdy bollocking from your husband back at base - it's oh-so worth it to see his Captain still madly in love after nine (almost ten) years of marriage!

And it feels like you've carried to full-term and subsequently birthed a healthy baby when you wake up to the sound of gushing water from the bathroom, to see John pat beard oil into his facial hair, stop, assess himself in the mirror, then mutter 'yeah, not bad', because Christ, it'd finally paid off.

| Masterlist |

[writingoddess1125]

The old men of One Piece finding out they have a child with you.

Shanks, Buggy, Mihawk X FemReader

Healthy mix of Angst and Fluff.

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Part 2

Buggy

"You two get your asses down now!" You yelled, trying to stop the two blue haired boys from destroying the restaurant further. Your two identical twins sons where only 11 years old but they were trouble- Double Trouble as everyone called them. Benny and Danny, who had given themselves the Nicknames of Bee and Dee- cause of course they did.

It wasnt just their dramatic tendencies, destructive nature or lack of volume control that made them silkar to a know pirate but also their appearance Who was non other then- Buggy the Clown. While they did lack the trademarked rounded red nose. They did get almost everything else- Long nlue locks, watercolor eyes and that crooked smile of theirs- it really wasn't fair how your genes didn't even have a chance-

It hasn't exactly been your best of moments when you conceived your children- Having been a performer on the famous pirate ship you ended up sleeping with your Captian one night on his Silly Throne. A few weeks later you started to feel unwell and realized you had been pregnant. In a moment of panic you fled the ship the next time it docked- Running from your Crew and Captian to never be seen again.

Once realizing you were on your own. You did what you could to make a living- opening a flashy little restaurant and using it to raise your two trouble makers. Dee running past you with a giggle snapped you from your thoughts, frowning as you set down your customers order infront of them before following the boy.

"Mom Mom! Look!" Bee yelled as he stood on one of the tables pointing out the window of the restaurant at the open ocean, Dee taking his place next to his twin. You walked closer to see what your son was looking at, the fog being thick that night as you tried to focus on what he was seeing.

Squinting your eyes you finally saw it- a Ship. As your eyes focused you saw the Jolly Roger and gasped, Ice feeling like it ran through your vain. You grabbed the boys quickly and backed away from the window. As if on cue the alarms set to alert that pirates had arrived. The sounds of canons hitting the town soon peirced through the alarms and the whole town erupted in chaos. You rush from the windows to the back of your restaurant.

Rushing down the stairs you knew Buggy and the crew would level the town to ashes. The best place to hid being the cellar, while it was small it would hopefully keep you and your boys safe. "Mom what's happening!?" Dee cried as he did his best to keep up with your fast pace. You didn't bother responding as you rushed to the old underground cellar lifting the rug and opened its little door.

"Mom I don't want to go down there!" Bee cried as you lowered him in the cellar first, Dee following soon after as you tried to sooth them.

"I know I know my loves, But do as I say- Stay quiet and-"

You paused as you heard the sound of crashing from out in the dining room followed by screams. Quickly you climbed in with your boys and lowered the wooden door of the cellar above you and frantically tried to place the rug so it fell onto it before plunging you and your sons in darkness.

You sat there shaking, holding your boys close to your chest as you heard the sound of someone walking towards you. Your hands shaking as you held them closer, feeling the moisture of your sons tears soaking into your dress.

You heard the sound of footsteps starting to search the room above you. Previously looking for valuables or anything interesting-

"Captian! I found the liquor!" The voice above you called out, Clearly grabbing the cases of rum that sat in the room above. Heavier footsteps followed into the room, hearing the cackle that made your skin stand up on end.

"Grab it all and whatever people you can find! We have a show tonight afterall!" You heard Buggy voice sound. The crew mate clearly rushing out with the cases while Buggy remained. You heard him turn through the room, ready to leave before his heavy steps landed on the cellar door above you it's old wood groaning at the weight. Your eyes widened as you realized you'd been caught, Without time to react the door was ripped open and you couldn't help but release a scream.

Buggy- In his hands you see his signature blades as he grinned down in the cellar. Reaching down and grabbing you by the hair and yanking you out-

"A new audience memeber!- wait" He raised an eyebrow as he held you up higher by your hair and looked over your crying face. His eyes looking over your face. "I know you... (Y/N)?" He asked questionably before his eyes shot to see a flash of blue dart at him and kick him as another one came to try and pull you from his grasp.

"Let her go!" "LEAVE OUR MAMA ALONE!" Your boys desperately screamed as they weakly tried to attack the man holding you. Buggy dropping you quickly as he stared down at the three of you, You quickly pulling the boys away from him and behind you.

A awkward silence following this as Buggy released a shaky breath before laughing loudly. A insane laugh that had him doubled over, before looking at you again with crazed eyes. A few crew members coming into the room after hearing their Captian laugh, especially at the sight of you, their former crewmate and two boys that looked like their Captian.

"Freaks, Take these three and lock them in my personal Quarters. We got a family reunion!"

Shanks

"Mommy I have Missy Luc-ia ready!" You heard your daughter call out. Setting out the freshly frosted cupcake, onto the countertop, that she was just barely taller then. Smiling down at the bright face before you- She may be only 4 but she was the sweetest girl.

"Thank you Vivian. Can you grab the order list for Mommy?" You ask, getting an exaggerated nod and running off. Her mess of bright red hair bouncing with each step. A little clone of her dad, The famed Shanks 'Red Hair' a former fling of yours.

It had been a nice little relationship you two shared, him coming by every other week to meet with you when his ship restocked. Buying random pastries you knew he bought to get close to you, always complimenting your Baking skills and sweetness. Which ended up to many passionate nights both in your own bed and on Shanks ship. The last time you met, Shanks told you he had to go for a while and didn't know if he's return. Tears shed as you watched him set sail- having the feeling you'd never see him again.

As if the gods had sympathy for you or wanted to use you as a cruel joke you fell pregnant. Giving birth to your daughter who ended up being a Shanks part 2. A giggly and happy baby with unique red hair, while she was a perfect mix of the two of you in terms of face she inherited Shank's smile, hair and eye shape.

As you packed the poorly frosted cupcake that your daughter had made. Ignoring the fingerprints in its frosting- you hit it in the back of the fridge you'd never tell her you couldn't sell it since she had eaten part of her work and replaced it with the true finishes product to be delivered.

As you finished your packing you heard the bell of your bakery door chime.

"Welcome to the Sweet treats bakery, how can I help yo-" the words froze to your lips as you saw Shanks. Eyes wide at seeing him again, it was clear he had delt with some serious wear and tear by how the world seemed to settle on his shoulders a bit more.

"(Y/N) long time no see" He said softly as he stared at you, mentally still trying to process what you were seeing. He stepped forward, Looking ready to explain himself away before the sound of tiny footsteps drew him in- Seeing the little girl holding a notepad with all your orders and running to you. Out of muscle memory you scooped your daughter and placed her on your hip, she smiled at you and held the order book out to you again which you gingerly took.

"Here you go Mommy!" She chimed, Looking at you as she noted your shocked face. Her gaze following the now shocked man, He looked like a breeze could knock him down as he stared at her then you then her again.

"Shes mine isn't she?" Shanks asked, his eyes never leaving the little girl on your hip. Vivian looking at Shank's then you confused at what was taking place. Before you could respond however it seemed Shank's answered his own question. Laughing loudly in utter joy and jumping forward towards you, scaling the countertop like it wasn't even there and crashed his lips against yours happily.

"Ha! I'm a Dad!!" He cheered, Taking his one arm around you and starting to spin you and Vivian who at first was scared. But hearing the giggles from the man started to as well- the two even laughed the same which made the Red Haired man even happier.

"Y-Yes Shanks. She is yours...This is Vivian" You said softly, watching Shanks lean in close to view his daughter. It was like he had found the most amazing treasure in the world and it shone in his eyes.

"Vivian, Such a beautiful name for the most beautiful girl in the world" He said in awe, earning a shy smile from Vivian.

"Vi, This is... this is your Daddy" You say softly, watching Vivian look up at you then back at Shanks. Hesitant at first before holding out her arms tk him, taking the opportunity he scooped her up in his single arm and held her close. Tears welling up in his eyes as he looked at her delicate face, her chubby little fingers touching his face and looking over him.

"You're my Daddy?" She asked innocently. A smile breaking over Shanks face as he nodded and held her close, tears pouring down his face.

"That's right baby girl- I'm your Daddy"

Mihawk

It had been 16 long years since you had laid eyes on Mihawk- a simple one night stand that had long consequences that followed. Your son, your beautiful baby boy who you named Alucare.

It had been at a bar, the two of you drinking and simply talking. Before one thing lead to another in the alleyway next to the bar- You truthfully cringed at the thought of how embarrassing it was to be undone by a few nice words, a charming warlord and some drinks.

"Mother, which one did you want?" Your son asked, snapping you from your thoughts pointing to the fishmongers selection, his emotionless face like a carbon copy of his father's.

Truthfully he looked too much like his damn father- same yellow eyes, black hair, very tall form, stoic face the only thing missing was the facial hair Which you thanked The Gods for since you didn't think you could stare at your one night stands face forever. Alucare did have some differences, he had your nose as well as kept his hair longer. The thick spicy locks hitting the center of his back which you helped him care for. But truthfully that was really it-

You also knew that other people would star long at your boy, a few times Marines having come up to see your son when he was walking to school or going to the market. He knew who his father was, having Marines who had seen him in battle tell him as much. However he never seemed to care, just giving them a frosty look that made them back away before leaving. Whenever you'd brought up the topic of His father he often would sit quietly for a few moments before saying he wasn't interested in such a conversation which you respected.

"Hmm, that one is fresher-" You say sweetly as your boy grabs the fish and plops it in the basket, Handing the merchant the berries.

Always the gentleman he would take your arm in his as the two of you walked. He would hold the heavier baskets and give you only bread or a small bag of fruit. He was too kind as a child, you felt bad at times at how his eyes seemed to know the struggles you had faced when he was born and tried to help you out now that he was older besides your persistence.

"Alucare, I heard from your teachers yoh got very high marks again. Do you want to celebrate? Maybe a nice dinner is in order? Or-"

"It's just a test Mother. No need for so much trouble" He said softly, giving a hint of a smile at his words. You chuckled at him and shook your head. Stubborn too.

You felt your son stop midstep- Glancing up at him as his face turned to stone before your eyes.

"Honey?" You call to him, before following his gaze at what had caught his attention. Across the market a dark figure stood, You immediately felt your heart drop to your stomach as you knew instantly who it was- Mihawk standing there with the same stoic expression as Alucare but his eyes seemed to be a bit wider. Most likely the closest to shock that could come over his face-

You tugged slightly to turn back, not wanting to create a accidental scene but your son clearly had other plans. Instead starting to walk again, His arm still holding yours as he kept his gaze at Mihawk. You expected Alucare to stop infront of Mihawk- a blowup or something but. No.

Alucare just walked past Mihawk- Like he wasn't even there. His face staying forward as no words passed. As you continued to walk you turned to look behind you where you saw Mihawk, he seemed to stagger on his feet like someone had finally peirced him with a blade.. but it seemed to be a invisible one to his heart.

[queer-ragnelle]

Beginner’s Guide to Medieval Arthuriana

Just starting out at a loss for where to begin?

Here’s a guide for introductory Medieval texts and informational resources ordered from most newbie friendly to complex. Guidebooks and encyclopedias are listed last.

All PDFs link to my Google drive and can be found on my blog. This post will be updated as needed.

Pre-Existing Resources

Hi-Lo Arthuriana

♡ Loathly Lady Master Post ♡

Medieval Literature by Language

Retellings by Date

Films by Date

TV Shows by Date

Documentaries by Date

Arthurian Preservation Project

The Camelot Project

If this guide was helpful for you, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi!

Medieval Literature

Page (No Knowledge Required)

The Vulgate Cycle | Navigation Guide | Vulgate Reader

The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle

The Marriage of Sir Gawain

Sir Gawain and The Green Knight

The Welsh Triads

Le Morte d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory

Squire (Base Knowledge Recommended)

The Mabinogion

Four Arthurian Romances by Chrétien de Troyes

King Artus | scan by @jewishlancelot

Morien

Knight (Extensive Knowledge Recommended)

The History of The King's of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth

Alliterative Morte

Here Be Dragons (Weird or Arthurian Adjacent)

The Crop-Eared Dog

Perceforest | A Perceforest Reader | PDF courtesy of @sickfreaksirkay

Wigalois | Vidvilt

Guingamor, Lanval, Tyolet, & Bisclarevet by Marie of France

The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer

Grail Quest

Peredur (The Mabinogion)

The Story of the Grail + 4 Continuations by Chrétien de Troyes

Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach

The Crown by Heinrich von dem Türlin (Diu Crône)

The High Book of The Grail (Perlesvaus)

The History of The Holy Grail (Vulgate)

The Quest for The Holy Grail Part I (Post-Vulgate)

The Quest for The Holy Grail Part II (Post-Vulgate)

Merlin and The Grail by Robert de Boron

The Legend of The Grail | PDF courtesy of @sickfreaksirkay

Lancelot Texts

Knight of The Cart by Chretien de Troyes

Lanzelet by Ulrich von Zatzikhoven

Spanish Lancelot Ballads

Gawain Texts

Sir Gawain and The Green Knight

The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle

The Marriage of Sir Gawain

Sir Gawain and The Lady of Lys

The Knight of The Two Swords

The Turk and Sir Gawain

Perilous Graveyard | scan by @jewishlancelot

Tristan/Isolde Texts

Béroul & Les Folies

Prose Tristan (The Camelot Project)

Tristan and The Round Table (La Tavola Ritonda) | Italian Name Guide

The Romance of Tristan

Tristan and Iseult by Gottfried von Strassburg

Byelorussian Tristan

Educational/Informational Resources

Encyclopedias & Handbooks

Warriors of Arthur by John Matthews, Bob Stewart, & Richard Hook

The Arthurian Companion by Phyllis Ann Karr

The New Arthurian Encyclopedia by Norris J. Lacy

The Arthurian Handbook by Norris J. Lacy & Geoffrey Ashe

The Arthurian Name Dictionary by Christopher W. Bruce

Essays & Guides

A Companion to Chrétien de Troyes edited by Joan Tasker & Norris J. Lacy

A Companion to Malory edited by Elizabeth Archibald

A Companion to The Lancelot-Grail Cycle edited by Carol Dover

Arthur in Welsh Medieval Literature by O. J. Padel

Diu Crône and The Medieval Arthurian Cycle by Neil Thomas

Wirnt von Gravenberg's Wigalois: Intertextuality & Interpretation by Neil Thomas

The Legend of Sir Lancelot du Lac by Jessie Weston

The Legend of Sir Gawain by Jessie Weston

[jamminvroomvroom]

our secret moments.

ln x fem!reader // childhood friend to lovers

in which you’re friends. best friends. but then you buy a dress for him to take off.

this one is for you guys. thank you for inspiring this, my beloved dress anons. i hope you guys love this as much as i do, and that i got it right for you! obsessed with the concepts and brain rot that went into this aaaaaaa lemme know what you think i beg <3 also sorry if the formatting gets weird, trying out smau elements again :D

songs to set the mood: DRESS by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni! smut, oblivious friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst, mutual pining, general sex acts, language, an argument

5.6k words

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your dress sparkles like a mirrorball as the lights flash along the strip.

vegas week begins with a bang; it’s the night of lando’s 24th birthday. the name of your dad’s company is plastered all over the city, as it usually is wherever there’s a race weekend. a round of golf leads to dinner plans and you get dressed up nice with your girlfriends.

you’re almost ready when lando texts you, your friends giving you a look that you brush off when they see the papaya heart next to his name. you tell him you’ll all be ready soon, that’ll you meet him and the boys in the lobby.

high heels sound against the marble floor of the hotel. you walk confidently, tall, scanning for the group of men you’ll be spending the evening with. you spot max fewtrell first, your dear friend here for the occasion, and then ash, who has his back to you. it’s because he’s talking to lando, your best friend, the man that made you fly in to sin city a week earlier than you would have liked.

he’s looking at you before you even see him, watching you walk towards him over ash’s shoulder. he’s checked out from the conversation the second he spots you, glittering under the chandeliers. he can’t breathe, because you’re wearing a dress that renders him somewhere between life and death.

but you’re getting closer, and max, who can see the look on lando’s awestruck face, nudges him so hard in the ribs. he forces himself to inhale, smile, keep breathing.

“good evening, mr norris.” you grin, squeezing his shoulder. “we starting with slots or drinks?”

both is the agreed upon answer, and you let loose in the casino. you watch him roll the dice at one of the game tables, and suddenly, you’re twelve years old again, playing board games on the floor of a hotel room, while your dads talk at the bar downstairs.

your father is, perhaps, the worlds biggest motorsport fan. he’d been sponsoring different series’ since you were little, and he hadn’t stopped expanding as you’d gotten older. that’s how you’d met lando, aged ten years old with braids in your hair, covered in mud, somewhere in the english countryside. you’d been going to kart races since you could walk, and you were sure from the first time you spoke to the small british boy that you’d be destined to meet him. he’d left a mark on you that day, something golden; he radiated sunshine.

your friendship flowed like wine over the years, nice and easy. time on the road with your father meant that lando was the friend you saw the most, and it stayed that way throughout your teenage years. lando’s step up into formula 1 was paired very well with your dad’s investment into mclaren, and five years later, you rarely missed a race.

lando was so easy to be friends with that it was only natural that he was just as easy to love. platonically. you loved him platonically. it was easy to have late night dinner’s with him in his hotel room, easy to walk around the cities you visited with him until your legs hurt, easy to fall asleep on his bed after a netflix binge. so when he told you to pack your bags and be in vegas, it was like he’d pulled an invisible string, because of course, that’s where you would be.

your friend is waving her hand in front of your face when you finally snap out of it. you’ve been staring across the room for god knows how long, and now the girls are laughing at you.

okay, so maybe it’s not just platonically, but you’d rather die than admit it.

“still gonna tell us there’s nothing between you?” nancy, one of your closest friends, teases. your other friend, mia, is giggling beside her. they’d both flown out for the race as well, and had spent the last two years helplessly watching you fall harder and faster.

“shut up,” you whine. “he’s my-“

“best friend.” they both cut you off in unison, mockingly. nancy rolls her eyes.

“he is!” you protest, waving them off.

you leave them in the dust to join the lads at the table. lando’s arm is draped over your shoulder the second you arrive.

“lost your millions yet?” you whisper into his ear. he tuts in response, knowing grin on his face.

“you have no faith in me, honey.” he bumped your hip with his as he spoke.

the game continues, and somehow, much to your surpise, lando gets richer. the walk from the casino to the club is short, and soon enough, you’re drunk and sweating under strobe lights. rounds and rounds of shots disappear and you sink deeper and deeper into the booth you’d reserved.

you let the music thrum through your body, closing your eyes in contentment. a knee nudges yours, and you open your eyes to see lando sliding into the booth next to you. he hands you a drink, and you mouth him a thank you.

“got your eye on anyone here?” lando’s head is resting in the crook of your neck when he asks. it’s obviously just so that you can hear him.

you pull back from him, scanning his face for a moment, really taking him in. the slope of his nose, curls matted on his forehead, grey blue eyes that you swear flit to your lips for just a second. just a brief second. you smile, soft and tired.

“nope.” you mouth back to him. “you?”

lando returns your smile, mirroring you perfectly. he shakes his head.

it’s around 3:30am when you crave the sweet release of sleep. your feet are aching and your head is throbbing. no questions are asked when lando offers you a piggyback ride.

you ignore the way your friends look at you both when he carries you up to your room.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, yourfriendnancy, yourfriendmia, maxfewtrell and 378,654 others

youruser: sin city for nozza’s birthday

user: are they together?

otheruser: mother?

landonorris: lost millions.

user2: the photo of the dress next to the photos of lando? she’s tryna tell us something i think.

and 444 other comments

-

you ignore the nausea pooling in the pit of your belly.

apparently, the medical centre isn’t that far away when you sprint there. harsh fluorescent lights greet you when you burst through the door, searching for a mop of curls and a burst of orange. your eyes find adam, lando’s dad, and you rush to his side.

“is he okay?” something about the fear in your eyes makes adam crack a smile. it seems there’s no hiding how you feel from anyone except lando.

“they’re just checking him over now, think they might take him to the hospital, just to be safe.” adam explains. “he was asking for you.” he smiles again.

“so it’s just precautionary?” you ignore the last bit. you ignore the way it makes your stomach twist and your brain fight to keep a smile off of your face.

“you can see him, if you want.” adam gestures towards the nearest examination room.

you’re gone before he can say anything more, bursting into the room without even thinking of knocking.

lando’s pretty much stoned. god knows what they gave him but it seems to be working; he’s propped up on the bed, cracks a sleepy smile when he sees you.

“hey, pretty girl.” he drawls, waving slowly. you pray you’re not blushing.

“scared me out there, you prick.” you joke, but your voice shakes.

“c’mere.” he frowns, so you walk around his bed. he slaps the small spot next to him clumsily, and you perch on the edge of the bed.

lando grabs your hand, pulling you in closer, eyelids drooping as he does it.

“i’m sorry, honey. always wanna race well for you.” lando is pouting. he’s fucking pouting at you.

“hey, hey, it’s fine! as long as you’re okay.”

he nods like a child being told off, but he doesn’t drop your hand. he doesn’t drop it in the helicopter to the hospital, either.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, ashjbibby, yourfriendnancy and 344,555 others

youruser: alls well that ends well (but i’m in a new hell every time you go to the hospital)

landonorris: whoops?

user1: THE TAYLOR LYRICS HELLO?

user44: do y’all think we can’t see you.

user2: 3RD SLIDE HELLO?

yourfriendnancy: anyway. the dress ate.

otheruser: @ yourfriendnancy WHAT DO YOU KNOW

and 567 other comments

-

“i just don’t get why you keep wearing the fucking shoes if they hurt so much.” lando bumps your shoulder with his, teasing you.

“sometimes you do what you gotta do for the ‘fit.” you huff, trying to keep up with him.

you’re on your way to dinner with lando, marking your first night in dubai. the restaurant isn’t too far, but your shoes are simply not cooperating. you’d left lando to book a table, knowing that a name drop from him would mean good food and not too many people there to watch you both eat it. after vegas, the rumour mill was working overtime, and you’d had a headache for two days as a result.

none of your other friends have arrived in the emirates yet, so it leaves just the two of you to hang out. it’s something you usually love to do, but after the whirlwind of the last few days, it makes your tummy twist.

you can’t stop thinking about the hospital, your hand in his, the way he’d demanded you accompany him despite the presence of his literal father. you absolutely can’t stop thinking about “pretty girl” or the lazy smile on his face when he said it, like it was what he always called you. he usually sticks to honey, not the most platonic thing in the world, but he said it once and it just stuck.

you’re pulled out of your downward spiral by the way he suddenly comes to a stop in the middle of the pavement. you look at him confused, but then he’s making a suggestion that makes you want to lay done in front of an oncoming ferrari.

“want me to carry your shoes? you can put them on right before we go in.” lando shrugs. you must be blushing by the way he fights off a smile.

“lando, i cannot walk down the streets of dubai shoeless.” you scowl. he chuckles.

“says who? give ‘em here. you can wear mine if you want.” lando reasons, and after staring at him likes he’s grown a second head, you cave.

you start to crouch down but he beats you to it. your breath hitches in your throat when his fingers graze your ankle. you watch in shocked silence as he undoes each clasp, letting you step out of the shoes. the pavement is relatively cool under your feet, and it snaps you out of your state. you decline his offer of his own shoes, and he’s started walking again when you stop him.

“lando, why are you doing this?”

“you took good care of me last weekend. least i can do.” he tells you, and you nod once. “c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he ushers you along and you walk the rest of the way in silence, silver heels swinging in his hand.

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youruser: dinner w bestie

user: lando took this. bet.

user3: her other friends aren’t in abu dhabi yet she has to be with lando

landonorris: how was dinner?

youruser: @ landonorris u tell me.

user4: a date if i ever saw one?

user63: are we sure they’re not just friends?

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-

the restaurant is licensed, so you find solace in a glass of white wine. lando sticks to water.

your mains arrive and you natter back and forth, discussing the end of the season and any gossip you may have acquired. you barely stop laughing, head thrown back every time he opens his mouth. it feels easy again, and you find yourself thawing out, previous worries shoved to the back of your mind.

“so what’s next year looking like? last year of your degree.” lando wiggles his eyebrows, wearing a hint of pride on his face.

“might have to stay away from race tracks for a while. it’s gonna be a busy year.” you sigh. his face obviously falls.

“how long is a while? need my cheerleader.” it’s said in jest, but desperation lies in the outskirts of his voice.

“until the summer break.” you frown. you’d gotten far too comfortable studying on the road.

“can’t you continue as you are? i’m gonna mis- your dad will miss you.” lando corrects himself and your fork clatters against your plate.

“can’t get rid of me too easily, norris.” you clean up the awkward mess before it can even become one, returning to the lighter side of the conversation.

“trust me, i’m not trying to.” he flirts. in jest.

you roll your eyes and gulp down wine.

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-

your back is to his chest and the music is unbearable. it doesn’t stop you from swaying your hips against his.

nothing beats the abu dhabi grand prix’s after party.

lando stays p6 in the championship, but it’s only by one stupid point. celebration is certainly called for, and you bask in the freedom of the season ending.

you don’t even want to think about the way he hugged you when he got out of the damn car.

so you don’t. you drink and you dance and you beg for someone else to try and take you home so that you can avoid him. you’re scared, fucking terrified, and avoiding him seems like the best option.

that’s until he finds you in the sea of people, because of course he does, and you get closer, closer, closer, until there’s no room for god and his hands are on your hips.

it feels too fucking good to stop, you can’t even compute pulling away, so you let yourself go. what’s the point in trying to hide the way you feel when he’s holding you against his crotch? ah, yes. a cornerstone of friendship.

but it’s too hot and it’s too bright and it’s too loud and the anxiety hits. it hits and you can’t stop the way you freeze up against him. you’re sick to death of pretending. you’re sick to death of nights like this one repeating themselves far too often, only to wake up in the morning and act like it means nothing. like the way he holds you and looks at you and touches you means nothing.

no matter how drunk he is, no matter how far gone he is, he knows you too damn well. he’s spinning you around in his arms and pulling you through the hoards of people.

cool air lands on your flushed skin and you realise you’re in the smoking area. lando looks wrecked, but he’s watching you as intently as he can manage.

“you okay, honey? want me to take you home?” he’s rubbing your arm as he speaks and tears well in your eyes. you’re not entirely sure why.

“stay, i don’t wanna ruin your night.” you croak. you need to get out of there immediately.

“no, no, no, you’re my priority, i’ll call us a driver and w-“

“stop it, lando. i can go back to the hotel alone.” he looks bewildered, and you don’t blame him. you sound harsh, way too harsh considering what he’d offered.

“i should take you.” he replies quietly and you feel bad.

great, now you are crying.

“just- i don’t want this to change, i don’t want us to change and if you keep on like this-“

alas, everything changes, then. every unsaid word is fair game and neither of you are holding back. the shots you’ve thrown back fuel an explosion.

“if i keep on like this? what, you think i don’t see the way you look at me?” lando’s words hit like venom and you’re white hot with embarrassment.

fiery despair hits you and you’re bound to regret every word when you’re sober and sane.

“at least i don’t fuck with your head.”*

“you think that doesn’t fuck with my head? the one woman i- fuck, you know what? it doesn’t matter.” he bites his tongue but you most certainly don’t.

“what? what, lando? as if the way i look at you compares to carrying my shoes and putting me to bed and calling me pretty and every other thing that you do to drive me up the fucking wall.” you spit.

your tears burn your cheeks, you’ve always been an angry crier, and they fall faster when he practically deflates and turns away, disappearing into the club.

you make your getaway, your father’s assistant sends you a car.

you cry yourself to sleep in your hotel room, watching the orange sun rise.

-

the flight home is quiet.

your plans to fly home with lando are abandoned, and you board the earliest flight available.

you never fight with him, so you don’t know how to proceed. everything had changed in a matter of words and you ignore the lump in your throat when you land in miserable, rainy london alone.

you’re surprised to see your dad’s blacked out range rover waiting for you when you get through customs. he’d been on the first flight out of the emirates as soon as the race had finished, and you assumed he’d be asleep for at least a day or two. the man never rests during the season, from the minute the lights go out in bahrain, until the flag falls in abu dhabi. then, he biblically crashes, the excitement and adrenaline hibernating until next year. average behaviour for the world’s biggest motorsport fan.

he’s out the car and opening the boot for you before you even reach him, and he’s pulling you into his fatherly embrace when you finally do. you let out a shaky breath, having been in desperate need of a hug.

“hey, kid.” he mutters into your ear. maybe it’s good to be home.

“what are you doing here?” you ask from the passenger seat, once all of your luggage is packed into the car.

your dad sighs, turning to look at you. you groan, thudding your head against the headrest. you know that look, the one that precedes a motivational speech, a bit of tough love, and usually very sound advice that you never ask for.

“lando called me.” he deadpans. they’d grown somewhat annoyingly close over the years.

“fantastic.” you reply, sarcasm as clear as day.

“he was beside himself. told me what happened.” your dad says softly and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“it’s so, so fine. i don’t wanna talk about this.” your voice trembles and you don’t have the energy to cry anymore.

“there’s nothing wrong with telling him how you feel, sweetheart. don’t throw something away because you’re scared.” and, here we go… you think.

“i can’t lose him.” you whisper, furiously wiping away the stray tears that fall, staring out the window.

“you won’t lose him if you tell him. trust me, kid. we all see how that boy adores you. no father ever thinks a guy is good enough for their girl, but lando comes pretty damn close.”

“i don’t even know where to begin.” you rub your temples, battling the tension headache you’d developed sometime the night before.

“well, start thinking. you’ve got a week.” you can see your dad smirking from the corner of your eye.

“what?” you blurt, blindsided. you’d need more than a fucking week.

“end of year gala, kid. pick a dress.”

fuck.

-

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-

you’re glowing, draped in champagne pink silk.

from the other side of the room, you watch lando, and he watches you. it’s like a game, who’s gonna break first? who’s going to extend the olive branch?

he looks so pretty in his suit that you would cry if there were any tears left in you, if you hadn’t purged them all out of frustration and longing in the week of radio silence.

you’re nursing a glass of champagne, waiting for dinner to start. the room is full of rich people with big ideas, icons of the racing world, both past and present. you make small talk with oscar and his girlfriend, exchange pleasantries with your father’s many friends, and beg that lando makes the first move.

the clinking against a glass indicates that dinner is ready to be served, and you scan the tables for your place card. apparently, the event coordinator has a vendetta against you, because scrawled in deep orange cursive on the place card next to yours is mr lando norris. you scan the room for the nearest exit. your grand scheme to flee in a floor length gown and too high heels is interrupted by the sound of your chair scraping out next to you.

you feel a ghost of breath against your bare shoulder. curls tickle your skin and then, a head rests in the crook of your neck.

he says your name, and the world stops for a second.

“i’m sorry.” lando whispers in your ear, and your heart falls to your stomach.

you whip around, holding him tight as you wrap your arms around him. the tension plaguing your body since abu dhabi dissipates in seconds.

“don’t apologise. just… i missed you.” you sigh.

“you look… fuck. you’re gorgeous.” he breathes in your ear. one hand skims low over your waist. something inside of you explodes.

you don’t even try to fight the blush that tinges your cheeks.

someone important is trying to make a toast, so you take your seats. you’re not listening to a word being said, though. you just smile at lando, and lando smiles back.

you’re gonna tell him, you decide. he has to know, although you suspect he already does; you can’t imagine another day without the privilege of him looking at you the way he is right now.

dinner is a breeze. you eat, drink, laugh at the stories exchanged. you remember why you love this world you were raised in, and find yourself grinning mindlessly at your father as he rattles off yet another wild tale from your travels. you’re lucky, you know you are, and it’s reaffirmed when the man sat beside you - who you think you love a bit more than platonically - drapes his arm over the back of your chair.

plates are cleared away and a band starts their set on the makeshift stage. the mtc is lit so beautifully, fairy lights twinkle above you casting dainty light over the makeshift dance floor.

“dance with me.” lando requests. he hates to dance at these functions, so you know the request comes from the heart.

“lead the way.”

he takes your hand and you make your way onto the floor, which is slowly filling up with other couples. his hold is firm, yet gentle, and you lean into him as he keeps you close. eventually, your ear is to his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering away. you melt further into him as the song plays out, and you wish it would play forever.

“we gonna talk about it?” lando murmurs, just loud enough over the music.

“we are.” you mumble against the lapel of his jacket.

“come home with me.”

you nod, inhaling the scent of his cologne; god, how you missed every little part of him.

you keep dancing and dancing, until the champagne runs out and the band starts to pack up.

-

the door slams softly behind you.

lando takes your coat, and you drop your bag on his coffee table. when you turn around to find him, he’s stood in the doorway watching you. there is so much to say, but you can barely form a thought.

“i can’t take this any longer.” lando tells you.

your breath hitches in your throat.

“neither can i.” you whisper.

“we can be more.”

“what do you want us to be?” your chest is tight and you’re looking at him so fucking intensely, desire as clear as day in your eyes.

“you know what i want. and i know you want it too.” he walks towards you slowly as he speaks, footsteps punctuating each word.

“i need to hear you say it.” you breathe. you’re shaking; you’re not sure if it’s the anticipation or the way you’re holding yourself back.

“all i want, all i ever wanted, is you.” he’s right in front of you and his hands are on your waist. you’re tingling everywhere.

lando’s nose bumps yours. you’re scanning his face, every line, freckle, slope that maps him out. he can’t help but look at your lips, darkened eyes flitting over your face. all you can hear is shaky breaths, and perhaps your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“can i…?” lando mutters.

you close the gap some more, lips brushing his.

“of course you can.”

he kisses you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. his hands cup your cheeks and yours find his neck, gently pressing your fingertips into his skin. lando’s frantic, passionate, oh so careful as he deepens the kiss, pulling you somehow closer. you hum in surprise, and you feel him smirking. he’s moving hungrily, and you’re starving, impatient when your hands find his curls. the groan he emits at the sensation makes you ache for him all over.

you’re both panting when you pull away, the urgency to breathe the only thing stopping you. the relief you feel is astronomical, your lips lock perfectly and he feels wondrous under your explorative hands. he smiles wide and you grip his collar, pressing your forehead against his.

“i was gonna tell you, and then you turned up looking like this… fuck.” lando groans, and you can’t help but lean up into him once more.

the kiss is slower this time, languid, and he licks slowly into your mouth. his pupils are blown when you break apart and his eyes flutter open. your thighs clench under your dress.

“so, you like the dress?” you giggle incredulously, buzzing from the interaction. lando looks at you like you’re stupid.

“you look…” he runs his eyes over you, pausing mid sentence tentatively.

“say it.”

“fucking incredible.”

“thanks. bought it with you in mind.” you tease, smirking coyly.

his jaw goes slack; you can see him mentally undressing you, and then he’s kissing you all over again.

his bedroom isn’t far, but he insists on carrying you there, sweeping you up into his arms. he peppers kisses over your neck, kicking the door open with his dress shoe.

lando places you on your feet at the foot of his bed, smoothing his hands over the curve of your waist, the silk of your dress. he tucks your hair behind your ears, drawing you close once more as he does, cupping your face in large, calloused hands.

“what do you want tonight?” lando asks, searching your face for any sign of hesitancy.

“need you. all of you.” you keen into his touch, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“we’ll go slow.” he murmurs.

“no.” you shake your head, and his hands drop from your face. “don’t want to hold back anymore.” he finds your ass, grazing his fingers upwards until he finds the fastening of your dress. you maintain eye contact while he drags the zip down, shivering as your hear the faint buzz of the metal.

lando stops, just for a second in an attempt to compose himself.

“take it off. bought it so that you could take it off.” your brutal honesty breathes some urgency into him.

he keeps his eyes on yours as the silk falls off your body, pooling at your feet. the cool air brushes your skin - covered only by lacy panties and stilettos - but his touch warms you when he grabs your waist. lando walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the foot of the bed. he places you on the bed, on top of you like a shot, kissing you into the mattress.

he clambers off of you, sliding down your body until he reaches your heels. kisses trail up your legs while he takes them off, the thud of them hitting the floor making you jump. anticipation pools in your barely there underwear; he can see you, all of you, and he cannot bring himself to look away.

“careful with those, they were expensive.” you joke, but your voice sounds wrecked already. you can’t even imagine how you’ll sound when he’s done.

“i have different priorities right now.” he flashes a grin and you lose him between your legs.

your underwear stay on when he dives into your pussy, teeth scraping over your covered folds. he can definitely taste you already, stuttering out a moan as he casts his tongue over you. you sink deep into the sheets, bucking your hips into his face, but his hold on you is firm and you have to relent. he lets go of you for a moment, just to pull your panties down, and as soon as they’re gone, he’s delving deep into you.

the sounds he’s making are obscene, his entire face buried away. lando flicks his tongue over your clit, beginning an extended assault on your nerve endings, sucking hard and fast until you whimper his name. a knot forms in your core.

lando takes his mouth off of you, lips slick and glistening. he swipes his tongue over them, sitting back on his haunches. he begins rolling his sleeves up, and you manage to push yourself up so that you’re resting on your elbows. you reach out to toy with the buttons of his dress shirt, leaving his torso exposed to you. you rake your nails over his abs, transfixed on the way he tenses, shudders under your touch. once his sleeves are out of his way, he pushes you back. your hair fans out around you as he resumes his position between your legs.

one finger ghosts over your clit, poking and tracing the bud. you’re reeling, writhing at the feeling of everything and almost nothing at all. he drags the digit down until he finds your entrance, abandoning the teasing and slipping it inside of you. he twists his wrist, adding a second finger, grinding them deep. he’s slow with it, watches the way your face twists in euphoria, finding a deep sense of pride in the way he makes you shake.

“you have no fucking idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.” his words have you clamping down on him, fucking yourself onto his hand.

“the feeling’s mutual.” you gasp.

lando cocks an eyebrow. he scales your body until he’s hovering over you again, fingers still working in and out of you. the angle change is delightful, your back arching and your nipples harden as they skim his bare chest.

“is it, honey? was it mutual all those nights i pictured you next to me, right on this bed? all those nights i watched you dance in your short skirts? all those nights i carried you to bed and wished i could stay?” he whispers right into your ear. his fingers speed up.

“fuck, lando. yes.” you cry, mouth hanging slack.

“tell me. tell me how mutual it was and i’ll let you come, pretty girl.” he teases; goosebumps litter your skin. there he goes again with pretty girl. this fucking man.

“always wanted more… was too scared to ask for it.”

“oh?” he coos, mockingly.

“couldn’t lose you if you didn’t want me.” you pant. a weight lifts off your chest as you let the words slip, his efforts sending you hurtling towards an orgasm.

“not going anywhere.” he kisses the base of your throat. “ever.” he punctuates, thumb sliding over your clit. “let go, love.”

the wave of pleasure crashes on your shores and it doesn’t stop, rippling through your belly and down into your toes. lando’s name falls from your lips like a sin, over and over until you can’t even hear yourself anymore.

lando’s smiling when you come down, small and knowing. he pecks your lips, once, twice, humming into the kiss when your hands find a home under his shirt. it’s unbuttoned already, so it slides over his bronzed shoulders easily. you hear it thud softly when it hits the floor.

“what?” you catch him looking at you, giddy.

“i can’t believe we’re doing this.” he grins. his words overwhelm you.

“i know.” you beam up at him bashfully.

he undresses himself and then the wait is over, and god knows it was a long one. he finds home between your thighs, runs his cock through your folds.

“you sure?”

“don’t make me wait any longer.” you insist.

it takes you a moment to adjust; he strokes your walls nice and deep and you feel everything he has to offer you. it’s surreal, really, stretching around him like this. you’d only ever daydreamed of the possibility, and now that it’s happening you can’t quite believe it. he moans low, forehead resting on yours. you watch his eyes roll back when he bottoms out.

your lip is quivering; it’s too intense, he’s too good. he takes it slow, just like he’d insisted, but he grinds deep, long strokes making you dizzy. you leave imprints of crescents in his shoulder blades, marking his pristine skin.

you can’t take much more of this, his hips hitting yours at such a delectable pace. he drags in and out, building a blissful rhythm and you’re whimpering into his neck. your teeth dig into the muscled plane of skin, minimal pressure applied, and his thrusts turn erratic, curses tumbling freely from his pink parted lips. it makes you squirm, spilling all over him, white hot and wet.

lando collapses into your damp body, the room is humid. you drag your nails through his hair, pushing the sweat slicked curls off of his forehead, and then your hand thuds lazily against the pillow.

“i’m done pretending.” he mumbles. “i’m yours.”

the last few years of your life flash before your eyes. you think back to his buzz cut and every time you’d failed to rebound. you think of bleached hair and lies about love and how he always saw the best in you. you think of nothing but him, you, together. he’s carved into you now, you think he always has been.

you fall asleep happy. you’ll wake up by his side and then you’ll do it the morning after, and the one after that too.

-

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-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239

maintenance: i’ve removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed!

[moody-alcoholic]

Making them feel good

Hello to my American readers cos it's 3:30 here and I'm tired.

MDNI +18 content

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn (sorry but not sorry). 2.7k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: MDNI + 18 content. Smut, multiple blowjobs, oral (M receiving x2), kissing & licking, cum swallowing, little bit of Mdom, tiny bit of hurt/comfort. Look they're expressing their feelings what can I say.

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy ya filthy animals <3

You feel your body moved, there are more then two hands now. Your head is on Simon’s lap the blanket still wrapped round your body. You force yourself to keep my eyes closed not wanting to cause a bother. 

“You let me sleep too long” You hear Johnny say. 

“You needed it.” Simon replies. 

“What about you?” Johnny says sighing. 

“Don’t worry about me.” Simon says his hand falling on your shoulder. You feel Johnny move closer to Simon leaning over to kiss him, you hear their lips smacking together. 

“I always worry about you.” You hear Johnny say quietly. 

“I know.” Simon says as they pull apart. You feel like you’ve just invaded their privacy, maybe you should have moved to make them know you’re still there, or something. Simon’s hand is rubbing your shoulder as you feel Johnny move off the sofa. 

“Want anything to eat?” You hear Johnny ask from a distance he must be in the kitchen. 

“What you making?” Simon asks.

“We don’t have anything in.” Johnny says, you hear the sound of a fridge door close. “What time is it?” 

“7,” Simon says. 

“Lets order in, what do you think she’ll like?” Johnny asks you can hear him making his way back to the couch. 

“Let’s order from that Mexican place that does the super stuffed burritos.” Simon says. You hear Johnny tapping on his phone. 

“40 minutes?” He asks.,

“Yeah that’s good.” Simon says. You try to convince yourself you’ll let them know you’ve been a wake but you can’t help yourself keeping your body still and your breathing steady, you doze off again. 

The doorbell jolts you awake, for a second you think you’re in a hospital and it’s a respiratory alarm going off. When you see the darkness outside you remember where you are.

“You okay?” Simon asks his hand on the small of your back. You nod letting yourself wake up properly the smell of fresh cooked food filling your nose. 

“We got some food if you’re hungry?” Johnny asks as he puts the delivery bags on the table. Your body’s stiff as you sit up straight the blanket falls to the floor. 

“I need to pee.” You say pulling yourself to your feet. Your body still feels sleepy as you make your way to the bathroom. You lock the door making your way to the toilet. ‘You should always pee after sex to decrease the risk of UTI’s’ your nurse brain tells you, bit late for that. You look in the mirror as you wash your hands. The bags under your eyes are getting heavier, you need to get a good nights sleep. When you leave the room you see Simon and Johnny on the couch, Johnny with his arm around Simon’s shoulders munching on a wrap. You make your way back over to the living room, feeling guilty for eavesdropping on their conversation earlier. 

“There’s chicken or pork which one do you want?” Johnny asks taking food out the bag. 

“Chicken sounds good.” You say and he hands you the wrap you sit in the recliner next to the sofa pulling your knees to your chest. The news is playing, you pretend to pay attention to it as you pull the foil off the wrap taking a bite. It tastes good, salty and oily exactly what you need after today. Simon and Johnny talk about whats happening on the news, you’re half listening to it as you eat the burrito.  

“Looks like it’s all kicking off.” Johnny says. Simon replies with a grunt. All of a sudden the Burrito tastes stale in your mouth. You put it down on the coffee table. The pit of guilt is not going away. You try to rack your brain to why you’re feeling like this. All you can think about is Simon. Johnny got to fuck you, Simon didn’t get anything, Johnny said he was rough Simon didn’t seem rough. 

“Simon,” You say as you turn to look at him, Johnny is laid up against his chest. His eyes fall on you as you slip out the chair crawling on your knees toward him. “I want to make you feel good.” You say as your hands find his knees.

“Oh yeah? How you plan on doing that?” He asks playfully, his legs parting so you can run your hands down his thighs. 

“Let me suck your dick?” You ask. He chuckles and you look at Johnny who winks at you stroking Simon’s chest. Simon’s hand reaches down into his sweatpants pulling his cock out. You were right he’s bigger then Johnny, of course he is, and he’s not even fully hard yet. 

“Think you can take it?” He asks, his voice low as he strokes himself in front of you. You don’t care if you can or not now it’s a challenge. You look up at him nodding, Johnny is smiling as he nuzzles his face into Simon’s neck. Your hands reach out as you move your body between his legs making sure you’re comfortable on you knees and take his cock in your hands. You rub up and down using your thumb to push into the underside. Simon’s head tilts back as Johnny licks his neck. You take a breath in pulling his foreskin back so you can wet his tip with your tongue. 

“Fuck-” he moans his free hand resting on the top of your head. You just go for it locking your mouth round and forcing yourself to take the whole thing. You hold your breath letting him fill your mouth up all the way down to the back of your throat. You gag your mouth filling with saliva, Simon’s fingers run through your hair. Your head bobs up and down as you make sure to take every inch of him your tongue pressing into the underside of his cock as it grows bigger in your mouth. 

“Like the way she makes you feel?” You hear Johnny ask between kisses. Simon just murmurs in response, you could never imagine him letting himself go like this especially when he’s walking around with that skull mask on, the one that sends shivers up your spine when you see it. Right now he’s at your mercy, his body twitching with each stroke of your mouth, each kiss from Johnny. Simon grips your hair helping your head move up and down, he’s rough just like Johnny said making you take him all the way to the hilt as tears form in your eyes. You don’t mind though this is your time to make him feel good. You move faster pressing harder with your tongue, Johnny’s moaning sweet things into Simon's ear making your body crave touch too. You move one of your hands into your underwear rubbing your clit, you don’t care if you get off but it feels good and it makes you more eager to please. Simon’s hand moves from your hair to your face, gently tapping your cheeks. 

“Hey, look up at me love.” He says, you force your eyes open without stopping your pace. Johnny’s mouth is burred in Simon's neck, his hand under his shirt rubbing his chest. “I want you to look me in the eyes when I fill your mouth up.” 

Holy shit the tingles travelling through your body are almost electric. You keep your eyes on him letting him thrust in and out of your mouth, your fingers circling your clit as you keep in time with his thrusts. He’s moaning as he gets closer to the edge, you don’t take your eyes off him. He pushes deep into your mouth and you push your head as deep as you can as he cums, his hot seed fills you up as his cock throbs in your mouth. You wait until you feel him relax before pulling your head back swallowing his cum.

Johnny is still stroking Simon’s chest whispering in his ear just quiet enough so you can’t hear. You don’t care though you made him feel good. You feel the pit go away in your stomach as you move your body from between his legs taking your hand out your underwear. You watch as Johnny kisses Simon his hand stroking his cheek. 

“Johnny you have to let her do that to you.” Simon says as he pulls away, his hand gently touching himself. You look up at Johnny with needy eyes, the prospect of making him feel good too has got you all worked up again. Johnny seems to pause for a second looking between you and Simon. 

“I don’t mind.” You say trying not to sound greedy. Johnny smiles pulling away from Simon spreading his legs so you can move between him. He’s already hard as he pulls his cock out. You look up at Simon who’s eyes have glazed over and he moves closer to Johnny. 

“You sure you’re alright lass?” Johnny asks as you take him in your hands. You nod, your tongue licking the bead of precum off his tip. He’s not as big as Simon, not that you’re complaining you’re going to make him feel good just the same. You lock your mouth around him taking his cock all the way to the hilt. His moans are just as good as Simon, the ache between your legs intensifies as you enjoy each inch of him filling your mouth. 

“Shite, Si, she’s almost as good as you.” Johnny says. You don’t have time to processes what Johnny is saying you just move faster looking up at him as his eyes roll back in his head. Simon pulls Johnny’s chin to look at him their lips locking together. Johnny twitches in your mouth causing you to close your eyes and moan on him. He likes that and you  work faster hearing him pant trying to keep his cool composure as he gets closer to the edge. Simon's voice reverberating off Johnny as he tells him how good he’s being. It doesn’t take long before he’s coming too, you take him deep just like you did with Simon making sure you feel every spasm and throb until he’s twitching from over stimulation.

You pull away swallowing your second load of the night watching as Johnny sucks in deep breaths Simon stroking his face. You smile at them getting up picking your glass up from the coffee table and heading into the kitchen. You run the tap for a few seconds then fill the glass up drinking it down then leaving the glass in the sink. When you walk back to the living room you see Simon’s head on Johnny chest. You decide not to interrupt them heading to the bedroom and crawling into bed. You close your eyes exhausted but satisfied, you can still taste their cum in your mouth as you drift off to sleep.        

—————————— 

You wake with your arm spread on Johnny’s chest, light is coming in through the bedroom window. Simon is behind you snoring softly, you don’t even remember them coming to bed. You slowly and quietly slip out from between them leaving the door ajar and heading into the kitchen. You’re craving a coffee and after searching through the cupboards for a while you find some and boil the kettle. Your eyes keep flicking to the bedroom door hoping you’re not waking them up. You decide to take the coffee out to the balcony grabbing the throw from the couch on your way out.

The sounds of busy central London fill your ears as you breathe in the frigid air. You make your way to the chair pulling the blanket round you and watching the activity on the Thames. The sun is still low in the sky covering everything in a burnt orange hue. You relax back in the chair sipping your coffee. You think back to yesterday and how natural everything felt. Johnny and Simon being so accommodating, you’ve never felt anything like this before, you’ve never had boyfriends or one night stands treat you anything like the way Johnny and Simon seem to fawn over you. The coffee burns your tongue as you swallow it down.

There was something different with Johnny and Simon, you knew this time it was going to be different. Not just because it was a three way relationship but the fact that it felt like a relationship and not just a fling or a few month fling. Holy shit you were actually falling for them, falling for them both. There was no Johnny without Simon and there was no Simon without Johnny. You smile as you sip the coffee watching the sun rise over the London skyline. 

“You okay?” Johnny makes you jump as he sticks his head out the door, your free hand flies to your chest. 

“Jesus, sneak up like that on everyone?” You ask as he walks out the door. 

“You think I’m quiet you should hear Simon.” He says smiling. “Or I guess you don’t hear him.”

 You smile at him get up drinking the rest of your cup as you walk towards him. He moves aside to let you in as you drop the throw on the couch heading to the kitchen. Johnny follows you the whole time as soon as you’ve put the cup in the sink his arms are around you. You turn to look at him as he pulls you closer to him. His lips moving to yours, you sink into his embrace as he kisses you moving his tongue round your mouth. 

“Yesterday was amazing.” He says as he pulls away your arms locking round his neck.

“Oh yeah?” You say in a desperate attempt at praise. Johnny just smiles at you his lips moving back to yours, it’s slow and sensual the type of kiss that makes your knees shake, your body warms up as he presses you against the sink. 

“Johnny,” You say breaking away from the kiss. “Johnny, I think I’m falling in love with you, you and Simon.” You wait for the laugh, or maybe he’ll be angry that you say you love his husband. You hold your breath waiting for the inevitable let down of being the third wheel. Instead his hand cups your cheek pulling your face up to his. 

“You know how long we’ve been waiting for that.” He says, you look confused but he pulls you in for another kiss. 

“This isn’t a fling, it’s not about the sex, its about a relationship.” Johnny says as he strokes your cheek his forehead on yours. You feel a wave of emotions come over you, suddenly you feel like you’ve said the wrong thing. Johnny seems to pick up on your change in body language his hands finds your waist and he moves you back to the bedroom.

“I don’t want to wake Simon.” You whisper as he pushes you through the door. 

“Just trust me.” He whispers as he guides you to the bed you get in with your back to Simon, Johnny laying next to you. He reaches over you grabbing Simon’s hand pulling it over you and onto him. 

“See this, feel him behind you, this is real and this is want we want, it’s not a fling.” You nod listening to his words. You feel Simon stir behind you as his hand grips Johnny’s side. Simon nestles his head in your neck kissing you. Your body is frozen hoping he’ll go back to sleep and get some rest.  

“Relax baby,” you hear Simon say sleepily, your eyes are still locked on Johnny as he strokes you cheek. You let your body relax. 

“We love you too.” Johnny says quietly kissing your forehead. 

It’s not just a fling, it’s a relationship. 

Next part

[celestialprincesse]

Simon coming to your rescue when a sleazy guy hits on you in the pub when Simon goes to get u another drink 💗😔

Absently scrolling through instagram, you wait in your quiet little booth by the roaring fireplace of you and Simon's local pub, waiting for him to come back with another round of drinks to celebrate his recent arrival back home.

You think he's back by the shadow that suddenly looms over the table, a smile curling up at he corners of your lips. Until you realise that it's not him. Your smile becomes forced, reflexively polite, an attempt to avoid any possible confrontation with the man who lingers at the end of your little booth table, just...watching.

"Wha's a pretty bird like you doing here alone then, eh?" He leers, and you feel your blood run cold. Every muscle at the back of your neck tenses, reminding you that ash the very core of your being, you're an animal made for flight, not to fight. Not like Simon. Where's Simon?

"Oh, no. I'm here with my boyfriend." You correct, in what you hope is a placating tone. If he doesn't respect your autonomy, you hope that he'll at least respect another man's claim on you.

The man casting the shadow before you doesn't even notice the looming figure behind him until you shoot Simon a pleading look, your wine glass slipped before you on the table in order to free up Simon's hands. Always ready to fight if it means keeping you safe.

"I suggest you leave the lady alone, yeah?" He growls, in a voice so predatory it shoots sparks up your spine, half attraction, half awe. It's so rare that he lets you see the meaner side of him, why he's so good at his job. Callous, remorseless. A man feared even by death itself.

"Didn't realise she was your bird, mate, sorry." The man stammers, his eyes practically bulging from his skull the minute he takes in the well over six foot of pure muscle come to your aid.

"Not your mate." Simon notes sardonically, bumping into the man's shoulder for good measure, a flicker of amusement lighting in his cold gaze when some of his pint spills down his shirt, sending him scurrying off despite his weak attempts at remaining nonchalant.

"You give me a shout next time someone makes you uncomfortable." You're instructed, Simon giving you that look that says he means it. "I'll wring their fucking neck."

[moonstruckme]

Hello! So, I was wondering if you could write poly!marauders with a reader with anemia (iron deficiency)? Where she usually doesn't take her pills bc she forgets or straight up just doesn't want to, so sometimes she'll stand up and will completely fall back onto where she was sitting bc she will black out for a few seconds or lose her balance?

Obviously, only do it if you wanna and feel like it!!! Thank you and have a terrific day <3

Sincerely, :]

Hi my lovely! Thanks for requesting <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 656 words

When Remus calls you for dinner, James races you to the kitchen, both of you shoving at each other and giggling like children as you pound down the stairs. He wins, of course (he loves you, but he’s not going to let you beat him just because of that), but when he turns around to gloat, you’ve faltered a couple of steps from the bottom. 

A glaze has come over your eyes, no less alarming for its familiarity, and James' heart stutters as you put out a hand, feeling for the handrail. 

“Babe?” James wishes his voice were a little less panicked, but for all he knows you could be about to keel over and fall down the stairs. 

You sit back on the step behind you, your hand slipping down the banister while you hold the other out in front of you as if to placate him. “I’m okay,” you say, though you don’t sound entirely certain yourself. “I just need a second.” 

“Oh, fuck,” Sirius says, coming around the corner. He pushes his hair out of his face. “Baby, again?”

“Sorry,” you mumble, blinking as though to clear a film from your eyes. In the kitchen, James hears Remus sigh, and knows he’s caught onto what’s happened as well. The tap turns on. 

You blink some more, your gaze clearing bit by bit until you’re able to focus on James and Sirius in front of you. You stand, too quickly for James’ liking, and he steps towards you, taking your forearm in one hand and using the other to support your lower back. 

“Take it easy, sweetheart,” he worries as you flounce dismissively down the remaining steps. 

“It’s fine,” you say breezily, “I’m fine. Just got dizzy for a second, sorry.” 

Sirius raises his eyebrows, arms crossing in front of him. They’re all familiar with this act. Anytime you black out like this, you pretend as if it’s a normal part of everyone’s day (or, if you can get away with it, as if it never happened at all) in an attempt to nullify your boyfriends’ worry. “You looked like you went blind,” he says. 

You appear a tiny bit sheepish at that, but it’s gone in a second. “It was a blip.” 

It’s clear you’re campaigning to move on and forget your near-fall and James’ near-cardiac arrest, but no sooner do you round the corner into the kitchen than Remus is standing in front of you. 

He holds your medicine in one hand and a glass of water in the other, and there’s no shortage of judgment in the quirk of his one eyebrow as he passes them to you. James feels for you; if Remus leveled a look like that at him, he might turn to ash on the spot. But you’re braver than he is, so you only flush, downing the pill with a sip of water. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, not quite looking at him. 

Remus hums, taking the glass from you and setting it on the counter. He curls a finger under your jaw and places his thumb on your chin, tilting your head up (Yup, James would be dead. Perished. Six feet under.) until you meet his eyes. 

“You set an alarm on your phone for a reason,” Remus says softly. “Start taking your medicine as soon as it goes off, understand? It’s dangerous when you don’t.” 

You nod mutely, and Remus bends, kissing the highest point of your cheek. 

“Alright, dove.” 

He leaves you there, looking somehow more dazed than when your vision had gone out a minute before, and starts bringing plates to the table. 

“Merlin,” Sirius breathes, he and James watching the scene from near the stairs. “He gets so scared when she doesn’t take them. She’s lucky he didn’t find some way to punish her for forgetting like that.” 

James scoffs, going to help Remus with setting the table. “I think that was her punishment.”

[madschiavelique]

dude imagine Miguel overhearing you talk to your friends about all the things you’d let him do to you in the most vile ways possible. like you’re just talking with your homies about how you’d have to get pried off of his dick if he let you smash or that you can’t hear him talk over how loud his ass looks in his jeans or whatever I dunno I think it’s amusing lmao

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH i just had to write a lil smth anon<33

summary : you talk about how you're down bad for miguel to your friends, and he hears it content warnings : mentions of SMUT (18+) minors dni, just reader being down bad for Miguel, no use of Y/N word count : 660 tag list : @fandom-ash

“Honestly, I’d suck him like a watermelon through a straw”

You were gathered in the cafeteria, not many people left, and Miguel was seated at a table not far from where you and your friends were seated. Whatever he was thinking about was soon replaced by listening to your conversation as soon as this sentence was uttered by you.

"Your mouth couldn't handle the size of him," sneered one of your friends to the others. "You'd dislocate your jaw."

"Some sacrifices are worth making," you sighed thoughtfully, your chin resting on your hand. You let out an almost childish whimper, "what I'd give to just impale myself on him!"

"Lord, you'd never let him leave your body, would you?" laughed another friend.

"Never!" you confirmed as you straightened up, "Miguel is so perfect... did you ever see how he walked? How his ass is round and perfect and to die for?!" your voice almost broke as your hands mimed grabbing something and kneading.

Miguel's ears began to heat up and he placed his hand over his mouth as he tried to keep his composure.

"What about his back? Oh..." you say, letting your head fall back, "I'd leave such beautiful nail marks on it."

"Wow, your marks?" laughed one as she reached for her drink.

"Pantone #996767, google it," you sigh.

"I think it's foam I'm seeing at the corners of your lips, you rabid slut," sneered one of them.

"But imagine, his pecs, touching them, laying my head on them, feeling them against my back as he pulls my hair..."

See when cartoon characters have hearts in their eyes? It was pretty close to what you looked like. And surprisingly, Miguel was starting to feel cramped in his pants.

"You're down bad," breathed one of your friends.

"I'd let him break me, I'll be his toy, he can do whatever he sees fit with me and I'll say thank you."

"Even bite you?" inquired another, well aware of the immobilizing properties of his venom.

"Especially bite me." you asserted with a burst of voice that was half laugh and half sigh.

"Would you have the courage to say all that to his face?"

"No way, he'd look at me like an alien."

"You're pretty close to looking like one at that," laughed one of the girls.

You continued to laugh, then when your meal was finished, you left the cafeteria. A few hours later in the afternoon, Miguel called you to his office. You were probably expecting him to send you to a dimension to catch an anomaly, or try to bring in a new Spider-Man.

But instead, as you walked up to him at a respectable distance for a boss and his employee, he asked you a simple question:

"Did you mean it?"

The question confused you.

"What?"

He turned to you, stepping forward a little more, one step at a time. His gaze seemed almost amused, but your habit of polite distance made you step back.

"Everything you said about me to your friends earlier in the cafeteria," your back halted against a wall as he approached again, coming very close to you, "did you mean it?"

Your heart began to pound in your chest as your cheeks heated up.

"Well?" he asked, towering over you as he put his hand next to your head against the wall, coming closer until only a few inches separated you. "I'd be very disappointed if all this were just words thrown into the air."

You swallow, your eyes falling ineluctably on his lips as you moisten yours, your gaze returning to his.

"Yes, I meant it."

His lip stretches to the side, his smile revealing his pointed fang.

"Lyla, status of the doors." he asked, his free hand coming down along your waist.

"Locked." she replied.

His hand slid up to grip your buttock, leaning in until his lips whispered against your ear:

"I hope you keep your word."

[twi-liight]

Sooo. You just posted Petty Jealousy 20 mins ago and I just wanted to say that I loveeee itttt. Can we please have more? Like Astarion and the other companions subtly do somethings to the person they’re jealous of to turn them away from Tav.

Tav’s companions are just sooo cutee when they’re jealous. Wyll and perhaps, Halsin being the only sensible ones.

Thank you!

Red With Envy ❣

The YA love heptagon of the century: Tavrem. ❥ Astarion/Tav, Gale/Tav, Lae'zel/Tav, Companions/Tav. It's Gale/Astarion if you squint. ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav. ❥ Tav is the nickname for the reader/oc insert. Their real name is up to you! ❥ PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Astarion would never beseech himself to touch a member of the working class, but things change. People change. And here he is draping an arm around Gale’s shoulders to boldly declare his presence upon the rickety, wooden table. 

“Oh.” Blink blink. Gale gawks with round eyes, then not-so-discreetly glances away from Astarion’s heavy gaze to the only present company at the table: salted bread with thick slices of white cheese, anchovies, and sop for the bread. This sorry excuse of a presentation must be breakfast, which begs the question- Is Gale’s blood so blue that he cannot skip a meal or is he trying to make a favorable impression? 

Astarion would much prefer the former. It means he does not need to scrub his hands raw from the filth of peasants after this interaction.

“Uh, good morning, Astarion.” 

“Mm?” He flashes his fangs to grin. “A good morning indeed, my friend. How lovely the dawn breaks over the horizon, but with no one to share the scenery with! I pitied you, and out of the kindness of my heart, opted to join you.” 

Alright, enough touching. Astarion draws his arm back to poise a curled hand beneath his chin, glancing over Gale’s face in a vain attempt to study him. “Well-combed hair. Your posture,” he raises his hand to gesture at the wizard, “is much cleaner than yesterday. You’re practically glowing with morning dew, and…”

Here, he leans forward, just enough so that his nose lingers on the curve of Gale’s neck, just so his hot breath hits his skin as he murmurs, “You smell like Tav.” 

This greedy bastard slept in their tent last night because he caught some sickness from meandering about gaseous spores, and Tav cannot ignore the needy. Would that Gale be some beggar on the road and not an accomplished wizard with a higher emotional maturity than he.  

Astarion would be more comforted if he was a one night stand, a quick romp for the leader of their party to take the edge off. But anything beyond that is sabotage for his best-laid plans. 

Astarion’s smirk curls as deep, roiling darkness tug at his mind. He leans back slowly, never breaking eye contact. “They let you sleep in their tent. What a darling.” While they slept by the fire, ash and dirt swirling in their hair, Gale was embraced in Tav’s blankets and scarves. The lingering scent of something floral sticks on his skin, and Astarion recognizes it as the oleander Shadowheart presented Tav a fortnight ago. 

Gale smells something else: rusty and metallic, like the smell of a storm brewing. Has Astarion’s eyes deepened in color, like wine? His tongue feels heavy in his mouth all of a sudden. “Yes,” he agrees, thinking of Tav for some semblance of comfort. “I was sick, and they offered their tent for the night. More blankets, they said. Easier to be warm in - look, Astarion, do you have a problem with my friendship with Tav?” 

The laugh that pushes its way forcibly out of his sneering lips is sharp and mocking. Something burns in his chest, and it feels like seething anger. “My, that’s a strong word. I would say acquaintance is more befitting of your,” Astarion gestures to Gale once more, fighting back a scowl, “station. You’ve known Tav for barely a few months - they’re not quick to brand just anyone as a friend.” 

“Is that right?” Gale’s brown eyes spark with challenge. What a doll. Finally got his spine. “I ought to wonder how you befriended them, then. Anyone with half a mind knows your shenanigans are acts of desperation; you want them to like you so you can manipulate them. I know your type, Astarion.” 

“And you… You, what, you are not? You’re using Tav just as much as I am, darling. Otherwise, what are you here for? Companionship? Ha!” Astarion does not know why, but his entire being is alight. As if the sun’s rays are scorching him. He can barely contain his temper, barking out between sharp teeth, “Get a grip.” 

Gale is hardly fazed. “You’re delusional. Whatever threat you think I present to you?” He lifts his chin, eyes alight with power and rage. “Confront it. Dig your grave. Lie in it. While you’re busy lurking in the shadows, waiting for the opportune moment to dance them around your little games, guess where I will be?” 

Silent, seething anger. It burns. Astarion’s eyes are blown wide with rage as he gazes into Gale’s eyes, digging his nails into his palm as his fingers wrap around the hilt of his dagger. 

“There to catch them when they realize everything you’ve done is just an act.” Gale leans forward this time, a warning blazing in his brown eyes. “Think whatever you wish of me, Astarion, but never in your life think I would never fight for those I cherish.” 

Cherish. Astarion almost sinks his teeth in his throat to shut him up. “Good,” he purrs, fighting every urge not to massacre Gale where he sits with his dingy little breakfast. “I would be sorely disappointed if you succumbed too easily to me.” 

This would be so much easier if Astarion didn’t care about losing Gale, either. If he must concede, Astarion can admit to himself and the Devil alone that Gale is beyond useful in battle. Herald of the Weave, Mystra’s little boytoy? He would be endeared to watch Gale’s story end. Whether it be in smithereens or in the bosom of his former goddess, it will be fun to watch. 

Something in the back of his mind gnaws at his anxiety that Gale will be the one to turn Tav against him. This pretty little fool never wanted him in the party, wary of him, which is the smart thing to do. Tav was not. Tav was too easy to trust him. To easy to ply around his fingers until he had them even offer up their blood. 

He resents Gale for making space in their heart. It could have been his. 

“The dawn rises as I do: strong, and watching over two bread boys exchanging heated words like knives.” Lae’zel’s voice, sleek and smooth, startles them. Gale visibly jolts away from his proximity to Astarion’s face, brown eyes widening as Lae’zel approaches the table. She takes one gander at the spread, grabs a fistful of anchovies, and shoves it down her mouth without care. 

“You,” Gale stammers. “That was for–” 

“Silence. Githyanki must feed well to prepare for the new day. I will not hear your incoherent mumbling, wizard.” Lae’zel at least has the decency to chew with her mouth closed. She gulps the food, grips her fingers around Gale’s mug of watered down wine, and downs it with a tilt of her head. 

Astarion pouts. “We were having a moment, dearest Lae’zel. Now, I love to tease Gale as much as you, but it is my turn to press on Gale’s pretty little nerves until he explodes. He does not need to be,” he flares a hand out to Lae’zel, who is still downing the disgusting concoction with impressive concentration, “hounded.”

Gale looks confused. Astarion thinks that is not a state he often experiences. “Thank you?” 

And now he’s grateful? Astarion regrets his string of words in the last five seconds. They should go back to fighting.

Lae’zel slams the mug down on the table, perishing the rest of Astarion’s train of thought. She wipes the drink from her lips with her arm, thinks for a second, then nods, resilience plain in her expression. “I must warn you: distractions outside of our goal will be our end. I will not fail to cut either of you down if you produce disappointing results. However.”

There’s a ‘however’? Gale and Astarion exchange a glance, the animosity between them gone, replaced with more confusion. “I think you may be misunderstanding,” Gale begins. “Astarion and I-” 

“You two are lovers,” Lae’zel says with the confidence of a thousand burning suns. Astarion has never wished for that to be more true. He wants to be eviscerated where he sits right now because he cannot pick up his jaw from the ground. 

Gale looks like he just swallowed a rat. Like he is seconds away from throwing up. He needs a moment, experiencing vicious whiplash from wanting to kill Astarion to now, wanting to kill Lae’zel. “You— huh.”

“I support this companionship,” nods the githyanki sagely. 

“You are a bloody fool.” 

“No. I am efficient. Two of my enemies have been wiped off the playing field, which means there is less competition.” Hands on her hips, Lae’zel looks at the campgrounds proudly. “Make love to each other loudly.” She jerks her head over her shoulder, a sneer twisting her sharp features as she looks at them. “Try to drown out my name from Tav’s lips tonight, for I will be taking their hand and heart.” 

No fucking way. An oversight on his part. How could he have been so blind? Of course Tav is desired, not just by him or Gale, but by everyone else in the damn camp! This is much more troublesome than he realized. Fine, then. He should prioritize the rational thinkers like Wyll, Gale, Shadowheart and– oh, Karlach. Not darling Karlach. She would never turn Tav against him, would he? 

Fine. Halsin and Lae’zel can go first. 

“Momentary truce?” Gale offers. 

“You read my mind, handsome. Lae’zel, darling! Come back over here - we just want to talk.” 

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

By moonlight

Adar x Fem!Elf!Reader

Part One, Two, Three, Four- New lives.

Summary- Adar has to protect what's his.

TW: Assault, attempted SA,

Mordor, Land of shadow. A new home land for Uruks and those men who swore their allegiance to Adar. Its ash sky shadowed rolling hills of burnt trees and half decimated villages. Yet life prevailed.

The men of the land knew how to tend it and now under their Lord worked to turn soil. The earth was then dug up and the burnt land buried under fresh dirt from below. The old crops were pulled, any surviving to be planted again or used to feed the people.

Life was hard under the smoke. The seaman's horses had been hunted down and now food was growing scarce and tensions where on the rise. The few livestock left were found and rounded up, far too few to feed everyone in the months to come.

Winter was still far off but the thick black clouds above blanketed the frigged air from the suns warmth. In the chill you hugged Gurbaur closer. He'd stopped fussing to be free after a few moments in the cold and now huddled close to your neck. He'd already grown so much from when you'd first met, now able to run on his short legs.

You kept your head down as you passed through the village. Many homes had been badly damaged when the mountain first split. With so much to do most holes had just been boarded up or covered in cloth. The newer men were here, awaiting their orders, fresh burns marking them now as people of Mordor.

They didn't look kindly on you however. Whilst the Uruks had been strangely sweeter since the mountain, something you'd chalked up to their happiness in their new home. The once southlanders looked at you with increasing bitterness. You'd started to wear your hair over your ears but it seemed in vain. You'd been singled out as the outlet for their hate. The she-elf without Adar's mark.

You reached the largest building left standing, a stone structure that had once served as a tavern. This was now where Adar planned for the future of his children. Glûg stood guard at the open door, his expression splitting into a fanged grin as you approached. You returned his smile, letting it lighten your heart before passing into the large room beyond.

Adar stood over one of the large tables, a map laid out beneath his splayed arms. You watched his brow furrow, allowing yourself to appreciate his features openly while his eyes where preoccupied. You admired his strong arms clad in dark chain mail and his large veined hands before announcing yourself.

"Melda..." He rasped, rising to his full height and stepping towards you. His hand laid on his armor, above his heart, before he took your free hand in his own.

He'd been different since the founding of Mordor. Bolder, brighter and infuriatingly charming. Your sure your constant blushing and stumbled words were obvious to him and yet he kept you here. Stranding you on the knifes edge, teetering so very close to something more. Something that ignited a fire within you.

"My Lord." You dropped your head in a bow. Your breath stuttered when you felt the cool tip of his gauntlet beneath your chin. He raised your face back to him, trailing the metal gently up your cheek and tucking your loose hair behind your ear. The sensation on such sensitive skin heated your skin despite the cold.

He turned from you, a loose smirk still pulling at his lips, to great Gurbaur. The boy babbled at him, baring more fanged teeth in his smile. Adar took him from your arms, bouncing him and cooing. The sight made you melt on the spot.

"One of my children has returned from the woods quite badly injured. I hope you can spare your Amya" Adar spoke to Garbaur. If you could blush any brighter, Adar referring to you as mummy would certainly do that.

...

Adar wished he could've had you stay. Warm his side as he labored over the building of his kingdom. His children came and went, bringing new problems to his attention. The least he could do for them was sacrifice time with you to ensure their wounds were properly treated. In turn the least he could do for you was watch Garbaur. The boy currently sat with Glûg as Adar studied the map, planing for new homes, farm lands, ect. Though his mind kept drifting from the task.

Adar was no fool, he'd seen now that the thundering in your chest around him was not fear. Your heart, that's what you'd called him in the barn and you were his. He would not claim you yet though, he would take it slow for you, let you come to him at your pace. He was sure it would take some time for you to want to hold his blighted face again. Maybe even more to stop shuddering under his touch.

He was lost in memories of your soft hand on his cheek when Garbaur tugged on his tunic. The hour was drawing late and the scant light was failing to penetrate the clouds. Adar asked Glûg to take him to the other little ones to rest. He would find you.

The injured were taken to a home with a smashed out entrance. It hadn't been repaired yet as it made carrying in those who couldn't walk easier. Adar suspected to find you here, having lost track of time in your focus. You'd always treated his children with utmost importance. Not leaving their sides until you were satisfied they would heal with no complications. It was yet another thing about you that he adored.

You were not to be found here however. His Uruks and a few men rested peacefully on bedding or in cots. He spotted the scout that'd been injured today and roused him. He'd just laid to rest not long before Adar had come in. Adar frowned, a pit growing in his gut.

"Your Lady just left Lord Father..." The scout paused, his face scrunching.

"What is it my child?" Adar pressed.

"'s just. She seemed jumpy 'bout something. I asked but she told me not to worry, just to rest." He said moving to rise. Adar placed a firm hand to his shoulder keeping him in place.

"And she's right, you are still injured my son. Sleep, I will find her." Adar ordered gently.

He left their infirmary swiftly after that. Adar's heart raced as his keen eyes darted around the village. Uruk walked across dirt paths back to their beds and families. The night watch stretched at door steps, preparing for their duties ahead. Mothers called for their children and children ignored them for a few moments more of play.

Then a shout. Half strangled out, barely heard even by him and he was running.

...

You held your gut, doubled over and air knocked from your lungs. You coughed trying desperately to draw air despite the pain in your chest. A hand to your throat forced you upright again, squeezing as your vision blurred with tears.

You'd almost finished with the scouts wounds when you'd caught sight of a man lingering by the broken stone entrance. He leaned there as casual as he could but you could see the nervous energy he held. The way he never stopped twitching or looking when he thought you wouldn't see.

It wasn't far back to Adar, just across what would've been the village square. If you walked quickly you'd be there in minutes. If you ran you could be there in less but you couldn't. With the tensions you'd noticed these last weeks it would only make more trouble. Best, you thought, to just head out as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

You'd barely made it past the first building when you were grabbed. A sweaty hand clamped over your mouth as you were dragged further into the gap between buildings. You'd never asked for your sword back, never felt a need for it before now. Still you had fight in you and manged to stomp down hard on the man's foot.

For a moment you were free, until a hand grabbed your dresses neckline, tearing it. You turned to the assailant, landing an unsporting kick to his groin. They'd forgone any honor in this fight when they'd attacked you as a group.

You fought them off the best you could but a group of five men against yourself unarmed proved beyond your ability. Your arms ached where you'd blocked hits and you'd failed to notice the now limping man's fist before it struck your temple. You yelped but that was when the fist hit your gut.

"Let's see what makes you so special then." The man holding your throat grunted. You clawed at his hand, his wrist, as far up his arm as you could reach but it didn't loosen his hold.

"Probably lifted her skirt for the Lord Father..." Another spat. He pulled a dagger from his belt before using it's point to tear a split into your skirt from your hip. He jumped back as you tried to kick him, only to catch your ankle.

"Don't see her mark here..." He grinned. You choked out protests, squirming to get away from his grimy hand trailing down your calf. "Maybe it's someplace else."

You felt the cold air more keenly now. Aware of just how much your dress had torn at the neck. That if it weren't for your stay, that you'd be bare to them. They seemed to notice your dawning horror and it fueled a cruel laughter amongst them.

"Nah, don't think he marked any part of her. She's just a toy for those animals I bet. You've see that spawn of hers!" The man at your throat barked.

He slammed your head back against the stone wall behind you. Letting you crumple to the ground in a heap. Your vision was filling with dark patches as you fought to stand, to run. Above you the sound of belts undoing made your blood run cold.

"My turn..." One growled.

You pressed your back to the wall, using it to try leaver yourself up on shaking legs. You went to meet the man's eyes to resist with everything you had but they were gone. His whole head seemed to have vanished and for a moment there was silence. Like a felled tree his body tilted then collapsed all at once into the mud with a wet thwack.

The sound seemed to break the trance and the other men were suddenly running or on their knees, groveling. Adar stepped past them, the commotion having drawn him and his children to you. You saw Glûg beyond him, his face harder than you'd ever seen it, with a twisted blade held to a whimpering man.

The adrenaline seemed to leave you then and you pitched to the side on unsteady feet. Adar was there in a flash, his cloak unclasped and pulled round your shaking form. You clung to its warmth, his scent, as your fear broke free from your mask. Hot tears streamed freely down your cheeks and through their blur you watched Adar's children drag back the ones that ran.

Adar himself stood steadying you, his hand feather light against your shoulders. You saw him glance down at you, his expression unreadable though his jaw ticked. He gave his orders in black speech and ushered you away from the scene.

You didn't need to understand his words to get their meaning. Before you'd even made it half way back to the old tavern building you'd heard the violence begin. A part of you wanted to clutch your ears and deafen yourself to the sound. Another deeper, shameful part relished the sound of those men meeting foul fates.

Adar stayed close but after your steps became more sure his hand left your shoulders. You missed the touch, the anchor to the moment that kept your mind from spiraling into what if's? It wasn't until he returned to your sight, sat next to the fireplace that you felt your mind snapping back.

"Andúnë..." Adar whispered. The crackling of the fire was the only other sound save your short fast breaths.

Adar was crouched by the chair he'd left you in. His expression was tight, a hard line between his furrowed brow. In his hands he held a dark tunic and some britches. You managed to will yourself back into motion, taking the clothes from him. He left you to get changed, only returning from the second floor of the tavern after calling out to you.

He paused for a moment, looking down from the steps at you. You considered his expression a moment and agreed you must look strange. Whoever the clothes belonged to they were certainly not a good fit. The tunic, likely meant to stop at the thigh, hung low to your knees but tight around your hip. The short trousers reached your ankles but were tight around your legs. You were glad the tunic hid the straining seems.

"I will find something more fitting in the morning." Adar spoke at last. "There are furs on the bed, I will find something warm to eat."

Adar moved to leave and without thought you reached out. Your hand grasped around the cool metal of his chain mail, gripping his elbow. Adar stopped, his bare hand settled over your own and you relished the warmth.

"Don't go." You whispered.

"I will send for a meal then." Adar responded.

He spent the evening by your side. A comfortable silence settled over the scene and you felt your heart lighten. When your stomach was full and your eyes began to droop, Adar lead you upstairs. He left you to crawl into bed, wrapping yourself in the soft fur and blankets.

...

You awoke slowly with the sun. The dull glow was soft behind the curtains and the pain in your skull was nothing but a memory. The events of the previous day felt distant but you knew you'd have to face the world again soon.

When you relented and left the warmth of the bed you took in the room. Last night you'd been so tiered and it'd been so dark, that you'd not appraised anything before collapsing into the furs. It was sparse, either looted for useful items recently or never having had them before. Just a simple table sat opposite the large bed, a wooden chair beside it and a basen atop it.

On the chair there rested a change of clothing, one you assumed now Adar had brought in the night. You hoped it'd not been a bother, you had a home, friends, all because of him. The idea that you were a nuisance now began to worm it's way into your mind.

You tried to shake loose the thought, instead running your fingers over the new dress. It was elven, you believed, maybe from the watch tower? A deep forest green, with subtle embroidery in an identical coloured thread. Ivy patterns looped and traced down the bodice and hung loose down the length of the skirt. You removed your clothes, folding them gently on the bed and slipped the new shift and dress on.

You twirled a little, lost in the way the billowing sleeves and skirt danced like the branches of a great willow. You didn't notice Adar's figure until the spinning had you giddy.

"It's beautiful, thank you Adar." You beamed.

"Beautiful." He parroted before his eyes drifted down and a grimace set his expression.

It stung a moment before you remembered your injuries. Likely now the cut over your eye would have scabbed and a deep purple bruise would be forming there. You could only imagine how your throat may look. If the mark would a have the distinctive shape of that man's fingers.

"I want you to stay here." Adar said firmly.

"But..." You began before Adar met your gaze. His eyes were intense, wild but also tinged red with dark circles formed bellow. He'd not slept.

"Thrak is bringing Garbaur to see you, he'll do so every morning." Adar explained but your mind had shifted to the bed you'd spent such a good nights rest in.

"Where did you sleep?" You said.

"What?" Adar rasped.

"Last night. Where did you sleep?" You reiterated. You caught an almost guilty look before he answered.

"Downstairs and I will continue to." He answered.

"No." You crossed your arms.

"No?" Adar almost chuckled.

"No. I will not sleep up here knowing your down there laying on the floor or something." You said.

"There is bedding, I..." Adar began.

"Then take it up here." You said more firmly.

Adar relented and as you ate a morning meal he hauled more furs and a bedroll up the stairs. There was something very amusing watching such a domestic scene unfold while Adar was still clad in his armor. You realised then that you weren't sure you'd ever seen him in less, though the thought brought a blush to your cheeks.

He rejoined you as soon as his task was done, just as you prepared to leave the table. You turned in your seat to face him but didn't need to crane your neck. He'd dropped to his knee by you and now held out a sheaved dagger.

"I want you to have this." Adar said in a low throaty whisper.

You took the blade, pulling it from its scabbard as you did. The metal was the same dark grey of uruk blades you'd seen. It lacked the distinct curve to it, as well as the jagged design. Instead it seemed all too familiar. It was Adar's. His own dagger, it's pattern mirroring his sword.

It seemed too precious then and you moved to push it back to him. His hands fell on yours then, curling around them and returning the blade to it's scabbard. You looked to him but his eyes were cast down, long strands on dark hair covering much of his face.

"Keep it on your person always. Concealed." He said like a prayer. "I will fetch your sword too."

In that moment you saw in him the heavy weight of guilt. That in his mind what had happened were somehow his own fault. You brought a hand gingerly to his face. If he'd chosen he could've dodged it, pulled away but he didn't. You pushed the hair from his face and gently cupped his jaw. His eyes flicked back to your own and were filled with such a sorrow it made you ache.

"This was not your doing." You assured him.

He scoffed at that but didn't move from your grasp. He seemed to lean closer in bringing his own bare hand to press against yours. Your heart quickened at the action and you felt a heat across your skin. It was quite the sight, Lord Adar clad in his armor on his knees before you.

"It was my men, on my land." He growled before his face softened again.

He moved your hand from his cheek to his lips and pressed them into your palm. The kiss against the now white scar, your promise to Thrak almost a year ago. The heat in your body seemed to pool lower and you felt almost dizzy when he spoke.

"You are mine to protect."

[chriscamopants]

I mean it // homewrecker Matt

Summary: in which Matt is only friends with a guy because he really wants his girlfriend…

Author’s notes: I do not condone cheating, nor is it an acceptable thing to do to anyone, so again if you don’t like it, don’t read it. However, if Matt Sturniolo came up to me one day and offered to steal me away from a current boyfriend… I would not hesitate to take my clothes off on the spot. I rest my case.

Warnings: smut . cheating plot . degradation . praise dom Matt x sub fem reader . mentions of drinking + smoking . mentions of drugs . hair pulling if you squint

“She wears a ring? Came through without it, you really think she stays true? I doubt it, because I am fucking your girlfriend and there’s nothing you can do about it” - I mean it, G-Eazy

‘Yeah but Matt’s a dick…’

You shrug at your friend’s pointed comment, swishing around the last half of the strange alcoholic mixer that had been thrust into your hand the minute you had walked through the door.

Both of you stand to the side of the noisy, open living room area whilst your backs lean against the cold wallpaper of some rich kid’s penthouse.

‘Yeah… I know’

‘I could literally list all of the things wrong with him on my fingers and I would run out of them. I don’t even know why your boyfriend chooses to be friends with him’. She continues, taking a sip of her own drink whilst you stare off into the distance, mostly looking over to the opposite side of the room where a ping pong table has been set out and both the boyfriend in question and Matt - the subject of your degrading conversation - are playing in a heated game of beer pong.

‘I’m not sure either’

‘He’s a womaniser with literally no respect for anyone around him, he’s a narcissist, and he’s just constantly rude to people.’ She continues to rant aimlessly, her very large hoop earrings jingling as she shakes her head and denies someone who was offering her a selection of ecstasy pills on a silver platter.

The person doesn’t seem to care for the denial and instead shrugs his shoulders before moving on to pester the next highly intoxicated person, coaxing them into falling even more inebriated by placing the tempting round pill into the palm of their open hand.

She then starts again, waving her hands about dramatically whilst you secretly get lost in your own thoughts.

‘You should have heard what he said the other day about a random girl who passed us on the sidewalk, if I-’ but then her voice slowly fades into the distance the more you focus in on Ryan, who stands next to a Matt that cheers him on whilst he aims a ping pong ball up to throw it into one of the cups opposite them.

Matt wears a baggy dark green zip up hoodie that looks almost black in the flashing red LED lights of the room as weed smoke blows up into the air in thick plumes, like tiny little volcanos releasing their clouds of ash.

Suddenly, your heart squeezes strangely and you find yourself beginning to blush in embarrassment when Matt senses someone staring at him and so flicks his eyes over to you. He has his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets and wears a cheeky little smile on his face that puckers even more after he deflects his eyes to the back of Ryan’s head. He then looks back at you and makes a face, as if to playfully scold you for staring.

You bet he finds all of this so funny. The fact that you are looking at him instead of Ryan.

It immediately makes you feel bad, because you know that if you bump into Matt later tonight, he is most definitely going to bring this up just to tease you about it. However, something within the look of his eyes makes you inwardly squirm. Or maybe it’s the way his smirk suites his face so attractively…

But then you come to the conclusion that it is neither of those things, because what it really is, is the way he inconspicuously lifts his middle and pointer fingers up to split them at either side of his mouth and 'scratch his face’ whilst making direct eye contact with you.

He’s got a pair of fucking balls to innocently mimic the dirty joke of eating someone out, you’ll give him that. Whether it is intentional or not, it still makes you screw up your face in disgust and avert your eyes, to which Matt smiles in victory before re-joining the conversation that is being shared around the ping pong table at his end.

His lower half isn’t visible as he stands behind a Ryan that holds a cup in his hand already whilst his other one lets go of a white ball. Everyone watches it bounce to the other side of the table before it neatly splashes into one of the opposition’s cups.

People cheer for Ryan whilst the other random guy groans with his head thrown back. He playfully points at Ryan and Matt, saying something before he swipes up the shot and knocks it back with a screwed up face of disgust.

They’re probably all drinking the equivalent of burning gasoline in those vile, non-diluted drinks. And judging by the way Matt and Ryan have polished off quite a few of the cups on their side already, it’s clear that they must have come to get absolutely shit-faced at this party.

You secretly roll your eyes and nod along as you hum, pretending to listen to a word your friend is saying before another random girl who - your guess, knows her - comes up to chat.

This gives you an excuse to slip out of her eye-line.

Matt.

Aka, the asshole of all assholes, however… also more fondly known as ‘your boyfriend’s best friend’.

It’s not like what your friend says isn’t true, because all of it is. He is a womaniser, he is a narcissist, and he most definitely is disrespectful to everyone most of the time. In fact, Matt sometimes scares you. You don’t like opening your mouth in front of him at all, nor should anyone else, because no matter what is being said, he’ll still manage to be rude about it.

To say he is a fucking bully is an understatement. He’s the kind of person that will snigger at a guy in glasses and whisper about his appearance after he has passed by to his friends or trip up someone in the school hallways ‘by accident’, only to then watch their folders go flying for the fun of it. He is mean and unpleasant, and quite frankly a terrible influence on Ryan.

Plus, annoyingly, as your friend also points out, Matt loves girls, and he loves the attention he receives from them, because he knows he’s hot. Which doesn’t bother you at all, because you’re with Ryan. But what does concern you however, is that more often than not, you catch Matt looking at you in ways that clearly shouldn’t be allowed, especially since he knows that you are taken. No less taken by his best friend.

They are subtle, and he always immediately looks away after you catch him, but usually with no regret in his eyes and sometimes even with little conniving smirks on his face as though you are both sharing a little inside joke.

Ryan is as clueless as ever of course, he trusts too many people, and only ever really sees the best in Matt. He refuses to believe that Matt could be using his friendship for something else entirely. Because unfortunately, sometimes guy are only friends with other guys because they really want their girlfriends.

And lately… Matt has been absolutely oozing those vibes. Sometimes, you get inwardly pissed at Ryan for not realising the obvious signs, because Matt really doesn’t make it discreet. At all.

It always starts with the stupid shit like looking over at his phone whilst he’s texting Matt to arrange a hang out time, only to see Matt replying with an oh-so-innocent ‘oh cool, will ur gf be there?’ as a sneaky way of making sure that you’ll be around.

Either that or it’s him making blatantly flirty remarks, right in front of Ryan.

Stupidly… most of the time all of these go over Ryan’s head and you just have to roll your eyes at him.

The other thing that also leads you to this conclusion is the very worrying fact that you know Matt has a clear track record of being a notorious homewrecker. It’s like… his thing.

He loves pursuing something that people tell him is actually out of his reach. He loves being able to feel like he can touch the untouchable. And here he is, best friends with Ryan, but only because Ryan has a girlfriend… you.

Someone that he maybe- possibly? To your recollection… wants to fuck.

But that’s just your take on it, and it might not even be true, who knows what actually goes on in the complicated weave of Matt’s mind.

Heading further into the haze of the party, you stroll about, practically choking on the smell of sweat, perfume, nicotine and weed. Not to mention the fact that you almost get crushed in between the grinding body parts of people as their skin brushes and presses up against your own.

You trip up on your feet a couple of times and find it pretty hard to breathe in amongst all of the party goers as you barge your way through the claustrophobically intense crowd that flashes generic neon party colours of red, blue and green from the installed lights above.

Your ears ring and your head thumps at the sound of the tasteless rap music still playing, so you decide to do what any normal person would and go up the stairs to find an unoccupied room where you can just lie down and have some peace and quiet. You’re sure the guy throwing this rager has a couple to spare, even if in some of them people have already gone to fuck.

You’re not too drunk to have lost your grip on what is actually going on around you… you can still think straight, however, you’re not exactly stone cold sober either. So, you wobble your way up the stairs and then walk along the corridor, having to try a few rooms before finding a nice empty one.

Sitting down on the plush double bed you sigh. However, in your intoxicated state, you don’t quite realise that the light to the bathroom suite is on and that someone else is also shuffling around on the other side of the door.

Who that someone is, is only made apparent to you after the bathroom door unlocks and he comes stepping out whilst flicking off the light switch.

You quite literally freeze, and part of you thinks you get so much of a fright that you sober up a little when you gaze upon a full bodied Matt standing in the darkened doorway of the bathroom.

Oh…

Matt looks equally as caught off-guard as you as he narrows his eyes.

‘What are you doing in here?’ You stupidly announce, as if it is your own private room that he is in. He rolls his eyes and scoffs, his usual clipped tone being exercised on you as he responds with a sharp ‘I’m just looking around, jesus it’s not like it’s your bathroom’.

You gulp and shake your head in understanding, inwardly scolding yourself on the idiocy of what you had just said. Trying not to stumble upon your words the next time around you keep your eyes trained on him as he marches across the room to have a nose at some of the pictures hanging up on the walls. Now, your hands are shakily white knuckling the bedsheets… fuck, you can’t just leave! That would be weird.

You don’t have to start speaking again however, because Matt does it for you.

‘So why are you up here by yourself? Thought you would have been begging for Ry’s attention by now’. You can feel his smirk through the back of his fucking head.

Pretty much everything that comes out of this man’s mouth makes your blood sear hotly within your veins. Who the fuck does he think he is to say something like that about you?

‘Well I’m not am I?’

This is the only good comeback you can manage to think of and bite back in the time that he gives you. He is already starting to make your hands shake with nervousness.

His back is turned, but he always somehow manages to command your attention.

‘Yeah I guess so’ he shrugs, but then starts an annoying chuckle as he suddenly looks over his shoulder at your body sitting meekly on the bed, his jawline still as sharp as ever and protruding from his neck. ‘Seems like instead you’re looking for my attention then huh?’.

The quipped hum that travels from his throat makes you flush a cherry pink, and you struggle to keep up with his wit since you get nervous about the way he looks at you and the way he commands himself. ‘Oh really, and what gave you that impression?’. But immediately after you say this you wish you could take it back, because Matt swivels on his feet as though you had walked directly into a trap of his own making.

Which to be honest, you kind of had…

‘Well for one, you’re in here… with me. And two, you just couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off of me earlier… and that’s not really supposed to be what loving girlfriends do’ he pouts his lips and tilts his head meanly, already psychologically bullying you because of how much you had looked at him earlier at the ping pong table in comparison to Ryan.

This time you directly roll your eyes at him and decide to get back up from your position on the bed. At least now you feel like you’re not at a loss for power due to the height difference. You don’t like the way that it’s too easy for him to completely tower over you from your spot on the patterned bed covers.

You can tell that Matt is also a little tipsy based off of the way he sways a little as he stands still, but just like yourself, it’s not enough alcohol to make him completely lose his grip on reality and who you are. So why is it, that he looks at you as though you are a hunk of fresh meat up for grabs?

Suddenly he looks away, taking a deep breath and reaching his hand to the nightstand next to the bed. He swipes up the book resting on top of it, and then slowly reads out the title of the classical novel. ‘The Lover’s Den… it’s one of those must reads isn’t it?’ He asks, still with the added patronising tone that never fails to tick you off.

Your skin feels itchy, and you want nothing more than to run out of this room and away from Matt’s presence, because his attitude really affects you in the strangest of ways. ‘Sure I guess…’ you shift awkwardly, trying to keep your answers as brief as possible.

You wish he would just put the book down, but instead he flips it around and starts to read the blurb.

‘An erotic romance filled with dark twists and a lover’s secret…’.

As he speaks these words your heart plummets into your ass. Next come his hooded eyes that flick up to yours and narrow impishly.

Please just let this be over.

You don’t want to be around Matt any more than you can help it, for conflicting reasons. If before you weren’t sure if whether or not he wanted to fuck you, now you’re pretty much certain he did.

You just hate the way that he is so critical about you, and how he can easily make you feel shy and embarrassed about yourself.

Matt is really attractive, almost unfairly attractive, which just makes you feel sick to your stomach about how often your feelings fight with one another when discussing the concepts of right and wrong. Because you shouldn’t be thinking about that at all, especially when you’re in a supposedly “loving” relationship with Ryan- that transforms into a less loving relationship with every single step Matt takes to get to your heaving figure.

By now he has dropped the book and it’s flopped quietly back down onto the mattress, the suggestive pages of the erotica long forgotten by Matt in favour of him getting to what he really wants… you.

‘Aren’t you a little tired of your relationship?’ He gently starts, as if trying to take on the tone of some kind of marriage counsellor. Your heart squeezes as little paper butterflies make their way around the step ladders of your rib cage.

Oh fuck, how the hell are you supposed to respond to that?

You end up simply keeping your lips sealed in shock. Instead, you opt to nervously gulp a drop of your saliva down your scratchy throat as one of your feet naturally takes a step back from his advancing body.

‘Maybe you want to explore a little before you tie any proper knots with your boyfriend no…?’

Matt has reached you now, and as a natural reaction you simply freeze in your spot of one foot stepped behind the other, your heart still galloping and your eyes blinking up at him widely.

As you begin to stutter, Matt’s mouth peels up into a satisfied smirk with his jawline sharp and his hot breath dispersing directly onto your face because of just how close he is. In fact, he’s so close that you can see the small little pores where his dark stubble grows in to shape his beard.

‘Y’know I like exploring too… a lot…’

His voice reduces to nothing more than a mere whisper now as his face gets incomprehensibly closer to yours. Your hands lay limp by your sides, that is, until Matt slowly gravitates his veined ones forward to pinch your softer skin in between his rougher, more masculine grip whilst his thumbs rub temptingly over the flesh that conjoins your pointer fingers to your thumbs.

Your breath is shaky and audible as Matt falls into a hushed quiet, taking your own silence as permission to press his lips against yours.

Something within your brain sounds a shrieking siren that screams ‘RYAN! RYAN! RYAN!’ Over and over again as Matt’s soft lips enclose over yours with a gentle victory that he treats cautiously at first. He’s buttering you up with his tender caresses and soothing voice, knowing exactly how to play to your weaknesses since he’s had practice at swinging sledgehammers at other people’s happy relationships before.

But, unfortunately for Matt, the little nagging voice of Ryan inside of your head succeeds.

Bile almost rises in your throat as reality comes to slap you in the face. You’re knocked out of Matt’s bewitching trance and are absolutely horrified as to what you are doing with him whilst your boyfriend is most likely located just down the stairs from the two of you.

Ripping yourself away, you jump back in terror and leave Matt to open his eyes and blink them, his lips already swollen with arousal before his hand comes up to smoosh against them in a vampiric manner. He then rubs away any saliva that might have oozed from out of his mouth as though he were swiping away blood.

Shaking your head in silence, you once again have practically no words to utter and instead spin on your heels. Making a beeline straight to the door, you leave Matt’s sexual aura behind, his presence and strong smell of aftershave still polluting your nose and playing with your senses before you grasp a hold of the doorknob and slip outside.

However, regrettably, you don’t leave Matt standing alone in the centre of the room for long, because as quickly as you had closed the door right in his face, you are shyly cracking it back open again and sliding into the room with a guilty grimace once more.

Matt only stands there with his arms crossed and a smug fucking smile on his face, the dim bedside table lamp lighting up both of your complexions with a yellowish lustre. It’s as if he knew that you wouldn’t be gone for long - which to be fair, was right - but it still irked you to admit it.

With a final swallow, you put a signature on an imaginary infidelity contract whilst standing meekly a couple of strides away from him. Fiddling with your hands self-consciously, you voice a curious but soft ‘tell me more…’.

Matt’s shoulders rise and his chest expands with a satisfied sigh, knowing that he has won and absolutely loving it in the process.

Walking up to you, his feet pad quietly on the carpet whilst your breaths once again mingle with one another. Regrettably, you feel now that the heartbeat is not just within your chest, but also in between your legs as Matt easily slips his body around to your back.

He exhales another gentle sigh, now a cool air hitting the side of your neck and making you shiver whilst his chest presses against your shoulder blades. Taking your hands within his once again, he now does something that makes you screw your eyes shut and completely mentally kick yourself because of how much you enjoy it.

Pressing his flat palms over the tops of your hands, he splays them onto the bottom of your thighs before sensually sliding his fingers into the slots between yours. Then, he starts dragging both of your hands up each of your thighs, making sure that you can feel as much as he can underneath the pads of your fingertips whilst he breathes into your ear and expands his chest along your back.

‘Hm… I also like a lot of touching…’ he whispers into your ear before nudging it with his nose.

The more you let him guide both of your hands, the closer they get to your now throbbing centre as they slip up your tender inner thighs. But before you two touch it, he expertly manoeuvres them back out to the sides.

Once again, the sensation of your boyfriend’s malicious best friend touching you without him knowing catches up to you and you accidentally freak out.

Jumping away slightly you shake your head and this time move further into the room rather than sprinting back out of the door again.

You begin to pace.

Matt looks at you as though he has the praying eyes of a panther, predatory instincts kicking in as soon as you move away from him.

Smacking his lips in annoyance he raises his eyebrows sassily at you, his earrings glinting in the small stream of light and glittering every time they wobble when he moves.

Making up your mind and making it up quickly, you throw your whole entire relationship built up on trust into the trash as you stutter out a pathetic, cheating question that you hope will answer the doubts running around in your head.

‘You won’t tell a fucking soul about this will you?’

Matt raises his eyebrows again to look at you in judgement before substituting his incredulity for a smirk instead. Placing one of his hands over his heart, his other one raises to his head whilst he pledges allegiance to you with a mocking nickname lilted onto the end of the quip for good measure.

‘Cross my heart and hope to die, sweetheart’

With this… somewhat reassurance, you genuinely believe that Matt won’t tell a soul. So, you decide to think like a man… with your clit instead of with your brain, just as they would with their dicks.

‘So… what else do you like?’ You curiously ask, your voice still laced with a huge amount of hesitance, because you know of Matt’s dating history… and based off of some of the horror stories you’ve heard, you’re sure he likes a lot of different things. He doesn’t seem to be the picky type.

But you let Matt answer for himself, and you also let him once again walk back up to you, this time allowing him into your personal space without any fight at all. In fact, you’re actually more responsive to his touch.

He trails his hands around the hem of your jeans, before fiddling with each side of your shirt whilst his seductive eyes mimic his raspy voice.

‘I like things sticky… wet and messy… if it’s not messy I don’t fucking want it’.

His voice is slow, like dripping hot honey coated in sugar. The overall sensual manner of it makes your panties pool and you can practically feel yourself sticking together down at your core. Matt plays on this a little bit more after he sees how much it affects you.

‘Can you do messy baby? With those gorgeous thighs of yours? You wanna be my good girl tonight?’

He pouts boyishly and then tilts his head just that little bit so that he can feather a teasing kiss onto your lips before pulling away.

By now he is standing in the gap between your legs, enough so that when he compliments your thighs he can reach down to them and cup the backs of them, giving them a testing little squeeze.

His nose runs down the arch of your neck to your shoulder as he does this and at the same time, you both test the waters by giving each other an inconspicuous grind. Matt moans slightly into your skin at the erotic motion whilst the scruffy hair by his ear rubs against your jawline.

Throughout all of this dry sex however, he still manages to keep cool and collected. Unlike you, who practically falls to a puddle at his feet. The only thing keeping you up is his big palms supporting your thighs whilst his lips pucker and pepper a sprinkling of small kisses all along your exposed shoulder.

‘You wanna know how I taste don’t you? How I feel’. His voice rasps cheekily whilst referring to his cock. Now it’s your turn to let something of a stuttered whimper out into the air that gets semi-trapped on the way up because of just how far back your neck tilts to let Matt in to your exposed skin. You notice that now, your back is also arched for him and his cock as well. God how needy could you be?

‘I bet you’re just aching to hear what I sound like when you pull my hair…’ he continues his tease, showing you no mercy as your own hands grip and tighten onto each of his shoulders. They tremor in apprehension.

And now, Matt decides, is the best possible time to give you another kiss. Only this time, it’s longer, heavier and thicker with the feelings of lust laced within the twists of his tongue. Matt also lets your thighs go just so that he can grab a hold of each side of your jawline to steady himself better into the kiss.

Just like he had said before, it’s messy, and it’s sloppy. You easily feel the slick consistency of your salivas layering over the fullness of your lips. He rubs his own pair against yours before trapping them and sucking them, his tongue licking slowly over the plump pink flesh.

‘Give me your tongue baby’

He speaks quietly into your lips, pinching your hip bones after he teases his hands underneath your shirt. Clearly wanting you to reciprocate his tongue motions, it doesn’t take you long to do so whilst he gently pushes his nose to nudge against yours. Sensually, he starts to walk backwards.

Bending his knees, he falls down onto the bed and it squeaks underneath his heavy weight before his thighs spread open and he hauls you to sit on top of one of them. You can feel your cheeks burning.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, just to gaslight yourself into believing that you’re not really doing what you’re actually doing.

If you can’t see Matt and see the way you’re perched on top of his thigh as he easily cradles your ass possessively within his hands, then it’s not happening.

After you start to use your tongue more, from Matt’s tilted neck, you hear a throaty hum of delight before he rasps a quick ‘that’s my girl’.

Only your stomach pools with regret. Because you’re actually not his girl. You’re supposed to be Ryan’s.

You try your best to push the thought to the back of your mind however, and instead focus on the way Matt gently starts to apply pressure to each of your ass cheeks, willing them to slide forward, before he moves his thumbs to the front of your hip bones so that he can dig them into your skin and push you back into a grinding motion.

Your breathing is heavy, as is his, but you still continue to kiss, the sounds of your lips erotically moving together being pretty much the only sound in the room until you decide to speak up in response to what he had said earlier.

‘Well it serves Ryan right for being so stupid and not dropping you when he should have…’

Matt sniggers meanly with a toothy smile through your kiss, almost triumphantly at the fact that he had managed to slip past Ryan’s eyes with ease and take you as if it were like taking candy from a baby.

‘Fuck… you’re just as bad as me baby, aren’t you?…’ he muses in surprise, raising his eyebrows teasingly whilst you break away from each other’s kisses just so that he can look into your eyes. His irises flick between the left side of your face to the right, his hands still working you into a soft grind above his thigh whilst he passes his reddened tongue over his moist lips, almost hungrily. You find it within yourself to weakly smirk at his statement.

‘I’ve been waiting to put my hands on you for so fucking long baby, you have no idea’ he mumbles, again with another low and conniving laugh, not even a single thought about how Ryan would feel about all of this travelling through his mind.

Nope. His only concern currently, is how he can’t wait to hear the way you breathe his name through sweat, tears and pleasure as he has you in any way he wants. He feels proud, as if he is finally claiming his prize for being the shittiest friend known to man. But Matt isn’t really a friendly type of guy anyway. So he doesn’t give a shit.

The only thing he had been interested in was you in the first place, all he had needed to do was find a way into your life without making it too obvious that he was trying to steal you right from underneath Ryan’s nose.

Slowly, he slips his hand down to the front of your jeans, swiftly and expertly manoeuvring his fingers to the button so that he can pop it open and yank down the zipper with a desperate speed about him.

‘Shut up Matt… I don’t want to hear you gloating about this’. You whine pathetically, shyly looking down at Matt’s spread legs and the bottom of his green hoodie that currently covers his black belt, just so that you don’t have to look into his eyes.

He scoffs, yourself still not safe from the sharp edge of his tongue. You yelp when he decides to flex his torso and flip you two around.

‘Oh so you’re gonna be a cheeky little bitch about this then hm? Well, maybe you don’t deserve to have my cock…’ the spit he comes out with is ugly and threatening.

You’ll admit… you’re not quite expecting the change in power dynamic, and just the very sight of seeing Matt crawling his body over yours and trapping you with an animalistic look in his eyes makes all of this seem very real. There’s no going back now…

You gulp and blink with doe-like shock whilst Matt hooks his thumbs into your jeans to pull them halfway down your legs.

He sighs. ‘What would you rather me talk about then?’

But you only pant in return, cautiously looking down towards your jeans that are slowly being peeled from your smooth thighs as Matt’s face finds itself extremely attracted to your open neck.

‘Ugh, I don’t know Matt? Just… anything other than Ryan’ you complain, mildly rolling your eyes. Before he can go in to kiss your flesh, Matt catches this and actually snorts a laugh in response, clearly finding your lack of care for your shitty boyfriend highly amusing.

‘Hey, don’t worry, as soon as I’m finished with you the only name you’ll be able to remember is mine…’. Your thighs subconsciously squeeze at this comment, but you can’t quite clamp them together fully because Matt’s hips are in the way. He notices the tension in both of your muscles and so decides to milk it further by leaning his face down closer to yours whilst whispering a gorgeous ‘yeah? You like that?’ that rolls from off of his tongue with ease.

‘Mhm hmm’ you hum in return, trying to keep your mouth closed so that you don’t whine into the air when responding. Matt is clearly happy at this, reaching down one of his hands to his own pants that are fitted nicely around his legs.

He then places his other hand flat on the bed right next to your hip before using it to hoist all of his body weight up so that the hand down by his pants could expertly undo his belt and slip it out from the belt loops.

It’s extremely attractive, to see him towering over you like this just to undo his belt, and you feel your clit throb behind your panties once again when he bites his lip in concentration to get the rest of his pants undone just by using a single hand.

‘I wanna taste you so bad, but we’re gonna have to be quick baby…’ he mumbles to you after both of your attentions are side tracked to the door, where loud voices can be heard as people walk down the corridor and bypass the room. Too many people know who both of you are at this party, so it is risky doing this in here anyway, considering the fact that there is absolutely no lock on the door.

Pushing down his pants, you nod once again to agree with him before gulping at the slivers of his tanned thighs that reveal themselves the further down his jeans drop.

‘How do you wanna have me?’ You speak up timidly, feeling an awful lot like a mouse in the presence of a lion, one wrong move from you and you’re toast. But you decide to play along with Matt, because he seems to like it when you play the clueless game with him.

‘Have you ever had someone’s thigh before princess?’

Matt seems to immediately know what he wants to do to you with how quickly he responds and seems even more delighted at your virginal response of ‘what the fuck does that mean?’.

‘Sweetheart… has Ryan taught you nothing?’ He coos softly, his patronising tone still there whilst he sneakily slips his hands into your panties to pull them down and have cool air hit your centre. He has to bite his lip at the sight of your gushing wetness.

‘Well not really… he’s always sort of wanted to be on top so I’ve just let him…’. At this response, Matt scoffs and shakes his head in disappointment.

‘God Ryan what the fuck are you doing man?’ He quickly mumbles under his breath as if Ryan is in the room with you two before he turns his attention back to your needy figure.

‘I want you to cum all over my thigh angel… think you can do that for me?’ He questions encouragingly, your panties now also half way down your legs and sitting just above your sagged jeans. Your heart flutters and your back arches up once again whilst you hesitate.

Now, the throbbing is turning into a stinging because you haven’t touched yourself at all since this whole encounter has started, so you decide to simply answer with a quick ‘yes Matt, I-I can do that’.

He praises you right after with a sultry ‘that’s my good girl’ before getting up from his position over you and instead sitting down on the edge of the bed beside you.

Sitting upwards a little, you help Matt grab onto you, and his hands practically swallow your sides whilst he stretches you out onto his lap. Moving a little further up onto the bed his cattish eyes gaze up into yours with his pupils dilated and his mouth a blushing red.

Getting you onto a singular thigh, your knees plant on either side of the mattress and sink down softly due to the weight of your upper body. Your sensitivity touches the lower part of his thigh when you press yourself onto him.

Hissing, you whimper slightly in open-mouthed pain whilst your hands claw onto the sleeves of his green-hoodied shoulders.

You look down at the dark haired skin of his powerful muscle, testing the waters of what he’s about to make you do before you hear a low and guttural ‘spit’ violently exhale from his mouth. Glancing back up at Matt you see that he has an expectant look laced within his eyes.

And it doesn’t matter how much your brain screams that this is all terribly wrong, because you still will you mouth to produce an acceptable amount of saliva before knocking your head downwards and letting it all slowly drip from your open mouth.

The thick globule splatters noisily against Matt’s thigh and now Matt finds himself continuously throbbing at the look you give him as the last remnants of your spit linger around your mouth in mid air like a small spider’s web tendril blowing in the wind.

At least, it’s like that until Matt reaches out one of his fingers to whip it away and lick it into his own mouth.

Your saliva glitters in the low lighting and is soon joined by Matt’s own spit after he gathers it into his mouth and also releases it onto his now already lubed up thigh.

‘Fuck angel you are going to love this…’ he muses cockily, grabbing both of your hips within his hands before groaning whilst he lifts you slightly to place your aching and bare centre onto the sticky consistency of your strings of saliva.

Gritting your teeth upon first impact, you have to close your eyes and try not to whimper at the strange sensation Matt’s thigh gifts to you whilst Matt himself looks up at you, proud of what he has made you feel thus far.

He knew you weren’t going to last long at all.

Your face gets very red and very flushed, very fast. As soon as Matt starts to use his hands in a similar way to how he had when you were both clothed, the pressure it brings to your core nearly makes you light headed. You feel so sensitive, and you can hear your spit being spread about his thigh as he tenses his muscle and then relaxes it to give you a perfect pleasure point when rubbing you over it.

You still have your eyes closed, but from the darkness of your vision, you can clearly hear Matt’s smooth voice cooing a gentle ‘open up those pretty little eyes for me…’.

You struggle to do this in between screwing up your face in pleasure, and knocking your head back automatically every time he decides to lift his thigh up a little into the grind so that you can feel it even harder when you ride him. But you slowly manage to peek both of your eyes open ever so slightly.

‘Fuck sake Matt what are you doing to me…’ you breathe out shakily down to him, both of your noses brushing from your position straight above him. After getting used to his motions, you also decide to help him out a little by engaging further and now using your own legs to hoist your harder and faster on his thigh.

‘I’m just doing what Ryan never could…’ he whispers back up to you in a snake-ish manner, knowing how good he’s fucking you and also knowing that it’ll never be the same with Ryan ever again after this. You’re just simply going to want more and more of Matt instead…

‘It would always make me so jealous whenever he put his hands all over you. I swear he did it on purpose just to tease me… and it killed me every time because I so desperately wanted to know what kind of face you’d make if it were my cock stretching you out…’

Whining to him in stimulation once again, your gut flutters and you have to bite your lip to suppress dizzy spells because of how perfectly he’s using his leg.

‘I love feeling you on me like this princess, you feel so fucking good…’ he breathes back up to you in response. ‘I won’t even have to jerk off later because you’re gonna make me cum in my pants’ he continues.

‘But… what about - fuck - giving you a taste?’ You moan into his lips after you start to messily make out with him once again, now both of your lower and upper body halves at work to help you reach your high.

Matt hums a groan in response to this, bucking his hips forward a little in excitement yet still keeping the quick rhythm of his thigh for you.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay, you can let my face have a turn next time’ he utters quickly and without worry, automatically assuming that there’s going to be a next time - which probably is accurate with the rate that this is going at. Yet, it’s still bold of him to assume.

However, most of your thinking is forgotten as you soon feel like you have bypassed a certain point within your build up stage that tells you that you are ready to cum, because it starts to burn in your gut and you feel like you seriously can’t keep quiet at all anymore with whimpers, whines and moans expelling from your mouth into Matt’s.

Uttering something completely inaudible to him, he seems to catch on that you’re close to finishing and so reaches one of his hands up the front of your top to play with one of your tits beneath your bra. This only enlarges the feeling whilst Matt praises you with showers of ‘you’re being such a good girl for me’ and ‘you’re doing so well angel… just a little more’.

The last remnants of his praise are eeked out of him before something within you snaps and a gushing waterfall of pleasure rolls all the way up your gut like some form of ricocheting explosion. You almost cry, and your eyes certainly dampen a little with tears as your mouth drops open.

From below you, Matt admires the sounds of ecstasy tumbling from your lips as you cum.

‘Shhh, shh- shhh, I know baby, I know…’

Whilst he helps you ride out your high, he hushes you gently like a baby, stroking your back and gazing up at you sympathetically, as if it wasn’t just him who had caused your body to react in this astronomically earth shattering way.

‘Jesus pretty, you’ve soaked my thigh…’ he remarks in absolute shock after you wobble your way off of your seat on his leg to crash tiredly next to him onto the bed. You smirk in exhaustion, before your squished lips mumble a ‘yeah well that’s all of what Ryan couldn’t give me, so savour it Matt…’ into the mattress. Matt also snorts, before cleaning up a little bit of your sticky cum and licking it from off of his finger right in front of you.

‘There… I did get to taste you in the end…’ he muses playfully, to which you hide your face into the blanket and groan at what you had just done.

The feeling of realisation after you’ve made a mistake is never a nice one, however, what is as equally concerning is the fact that you don’t seem to care as much as you thought you would have, which sends warning sirens off in your head once again.

You had just cheated on Ryan… but what’s even worse is that you had cheated on him with his so-called ‘best friend’, the same best friend who had coaxed you into cheating with him in the first place.

‘Ryan can’t know about this…’ you croak fearfully into the mattress whilst Matt stands up to put his pants back on properly again.

He spins around to you, his skinny, short figure accentuated in the light as he does his belt back up with a cheeky grin on his face. His hair is fluffy and tussled at the front from when you had carded your hands through it a couple of times whilst you had fucked.

His little chain with a small horse pendant on it also glitters with malice and cockiness at the state he had left you in, crumpled on top of the mattress. God, he’s going to love sneaking around behind Ryan’s back to fuck you, he always gets a free high from playing these kinds of games with people’s heartstrings.

‘Don’t worry… I don’t kiss and tell… plus, keeping it a secret is all part of the fun anyway…’

oa: @gamermattsgf

[floralpascal]

Surprise

Summary: Lingerie drives John absolutely mad and you’ve been waiting to surprise him with the new set you bought…

Pairing: John Price x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.9k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, mdni!)

Warnings: lingerie, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), riding that man the way he deserves to be ridden

A/N: Lingerie lover Price has been in my head for literal months and I’m so happy this is finally finished!

You didn’t know how long you’ve been laying here waiting for an opportunity. You knew it would come, it had to. The only question was, when?

You had seen your chance around thirty minutes ago. John had shed his black, oversized zip-up hoodie, leaving him in nothing but his matching sweatpants. As much as you loved drinking in his shirtless form in the pale midmorning light, you knew that you had to take the chance he unwittingly opened up by leaving his jacket unattended on the back of a kitchen chair. Distracted by some paperwork, John hadn’t noticed when you discreetly pulled the soft hoodie from the chair beside him. 

Laying on your bed, the fluffy, oversized hoodie was now the only thing keeping you warm. You had traded your own warm clothes for the new set of lingerie you had bought months ago. The crimson lace set had sat in the bottom of your drawer ever since, awaiting the perfect time to reveal it to John. The zipper of the hoodie was drawn down just below your bra line, enough to tease what hid below and pontificate the fact that you were bare in every other way. While you were sure that showing off this much skin would more than capture the man’s attention, it was cold while you waited, the morning air frigid as it slipped through the opening of your stolen hoodie.

The hoodie smelled like him. Mahogany and ash, thick and heedy. You let it envelop you, basking in the smell of home. It was the same smell found on his side of the bed, the one that you would always savor when he was gone. 

“Love?” John called from down the hall. “Love, where are you?” 

You tried to tamp down your butterflies as you simply responded, “Bedroom!”

You heard the thuds of his footsteps as he made his way down the hallway, skin against hardwood. You readjusted on the bed so that he would have the perfect view from the doorway, your bare legs extended out in front of you and his hoodie positioned so that the crimson peeked out at the top and the bottom. 

He called out from the hallway, “Have you seen my blue thumb drive? I’ve been lookin’ everywhere and I can’t find the bloody thi-”

John froze the moment he rounded the corner, his eyes landing on you with his mouth ajar and his arm frozen mid neck scratch. His attention slid from your face down your body, locking onto the burning red bra and underwear half-hidden by his own piece of clothing. He was frozen as he took you in, eyes wide. 

It took every ounce of willpower you had to maintain a facade of innocence. Blinking up at him through your lashes as if nothing was amiss, you replied, “I think the thumb drive is on the coffee table.”

John’s eyes snapped up to yours, pupils already blown wide. In a mere second, he switched from the soft, domestic man that had made you breakfast that morning to a man starved. This was the John that wrecked you for hours on end, the John that you had so hoped to draw out with your little stunt. You burned under the intensity of his gaze, giddy adrenaline shooting through you. 

Got him. 

John slowly strode to the bed, his eyes never leaving your form. Wordlessly, he crawled onto the bed so that you had to lay down for him to climb over top of you. Every muscle in his upper body was pulled taut as he settled over you, one knee on either side of your thighs. He planted one hand on the mattress beside your head and hovered the other over your midsection, clearly holding himself back from touching you while he eyed the present displayed beneath him. 

“I thought you needed that thumb drive?” You teased, your voice low and laced with excitement. It was impossible to hide it now, not with the way he was looking down at you like he wanted to absolutely devour you. 

“I don’t give a damn about that thumb drive right now, baby, ‘n you know it,” he nearly whispered, the low timber of his voice sending another shot of adrenaline through your veins. He trailed his hand down your exposed chest, your skin pebbling in his wake. Slipping his hand down to the black hoodie that hugged your frame, he moved a bit of it out of the way so he could get a better view of your front. “I was wonderin’ where this went.”

You gave him a mischievously innocent smile again, tugging at the soft fabric and pretending like you were about to take it off. “Well, if you need it back I’ll just-”

“No,” he rushed, sincerity in both his tone and his eyes even though he knew for a fact you were only baiting him. He was stern as he ordered, “Keep it on.”

“Yes, sir.”

John’s eyes flicked up to yours, burning brighter than a thousand suns. You weren’t cold now. No, now you felt like you were on fire, ablaze under the intensity of his gaze. You knew exactly how to play him, exactly which buttons to push to get that look in his eyes that you now saw. 

“You’re a damn minx, love,” he groaned. Focusing his attention on your midsection once again, he slowly tugged the zipper down, gradually baring more and more of your skin to him. Once it was undone, he moved the soft fabric to your sides, leaving nothing blocking his view of your form. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured reverentially, his eyes wide as he took you in. He ran his hand down your torso, reveling in the way you keened under his touch. Despite the growing heat, the glide of his calloused fingers against your soft skin gave you chills. His hands traveled everywhere, lightly grasping at every inch of your torso and thighs as he drank in every bit of you. His eyes were clouded with love and lust as he lowered himself down and pressed his lips to the exposed valley between your breasts. 

“John…” you pleaded softly.

John moved down to your stomach, his lips pressing a slow, sensual trail down, down, down. One hand kneaded your side while the other opened your thighs wider for him. Soon enough, he was nestled between your thighs, his broad shoulders making you open wide for him. His hungry eyes flicked from the strip of barely-there crimson lace that covered your core to your eager face. One side of his mustache quirked up in a teasing smile. 

“How long ‘ave you been waiting in here, baby?” He asked before hooking his pointer finger in your underwear to swipe through your folds. A full, satisfied smile bloomed on his face when he found you already dripping, enough that the inside of the underwear was already soaked. “Tha’ answers my question: a while.”

You bucked your hips against his hand as you rasped, “Please, John.”

“You’ve been so patient,” he cooed, continuing to run his finger up and down your slit. “You deserve it, all wrapped up for me like the most gorgeous present I’ve ever seen.”

“Just for you.”

He groaned at that, eyes raking over you spread out before him. “I’m the luckiest fuckin’ man.”

Without any further preamble, he slid a finger into you. It was slow at first, an unhurried slide in and a gradual slide out. Being soaking wet, it already wasn’t enough, only enough to tease you of more to come. 

He looked up at you as he continued to pump in and out, seemingly trying to burn this image of you in his mind. When you whined, looking for more, simply added a second finger into your heat, mumbling, “Tha’s it, love.”

You grabbed the sheets beside your head with one hand, slowly arching your back so that John got a good look at your barely-covered chest. A groan ripped through him at the sight, his love for how your form looked in the tantalizing lingerie something you knew exactly how to fuel.

“So fuckin’ sexy,” he groaned, his voice even lower and more gravelly than normal. The combination of his lust-filled voice and his praise made you clench down on the two fingers moving slowly deep inside you. 

Then, John pulled the thin lace panties even farther to the side, dipping his head down towards your core. No matter how many times you felt his tongue on you, you could never fully prepare to feel it again. He started where his fingers were sliding into you, the heat of his tongue sliding up, up, up until it found your clit. He circled the bundle of nerves slowly at first, his expert movements pulling a whine from you. 

His beard scratched against your skin, surely to leave a beard burn for later like it had so many times before. But you couldn’t care. Right now, the feeling only added to the overwhelming pleasure that was building in your stomach.

Mouth moving in tandem with his fingers, he began to steadily increase his speed. Now, John did nothing short of devour you, the pace he set almost overwhelming. He worshiped you, his mouth showing you more than it could ever tell. 

Your hand flew down to grasp at his soft brown hair, barely able to find enough to hold onto. 

“John! Fuck, don’t stop, baby. Don’t–” you babbled, your sentence devolving into a moan. 

John’s throaty groan sent shockwaves through you as he ground his hips against the bed, searching for his own relief. On any normal day, it would take a lot longer before he was this desperate, his self-control usually as strong as steel… until you eventually broke it. By the time he finally cracked – his need for you finally overtaking his self-control – he had already slowly and meticulously taken you apart and put you back together more times than you could count. But lingerie, you had found, shattered that self-control like it was glass almost immediately. Once his eyes landed on you, he was gone. There was no teasing, no edging, no slow buildup when he was like this. He needed you. 

The coil that had been tightening in your stomach finally snapped, pleasure flooding your senses. You arched against John’s face, your thighs trapping him between them. Unbothered, he simply continued to wreck you, working you through the high as your muscles jumped at each swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck!” you heaved. You lightly tugged on his light brown strands of hair as you released him from your thighs. Taking the hint, he pulled his fingers from you before trailing kisses up your body. When his lips finally met yours, he quickly slipped his tongue past your lips. 

Trailing a hand over the front of his soft sweatpants, you found him hard and straining against the material. John groaned against your lips at the pressure before pushing up to shed his pants and boxers, tossing the garments carelessly to the floor. His cock was red and already weeping as he fisted himself a few times, his eyes raking over you hungrily.

“Wish you could see how fuckin’ beautiful you look, love,” he lamented as he leaned down to you again. “Had me about to come in my boxers like I’m a bloody teenager again.”

You hummed, letting him settle his hips between your thighs once again. “Then we wouldn’t get to my favorite part,” you quipped. “Maybe I should tone it down a little then.”

John guided his cock through your folds before he finally began to push in, inch by glorious inch, the stretch pulling a moan from you. He whispered, “You’ll get it. You’ll take every bit of me just like you wanted.”

Clawing your fingers into the soft flesh of his back, you tried to relax as you acclimated to his size. The few testing thrusts he made added fuel to the fire already ablaze in the pit of your stomach. There he was, deep inside you and yet all you wanted — all you needed — was more. You needed more of him, needed everything he could give you. 

You leaned up and kissed his collarbone, silently letting him know that you were ready. Then, John fulfilled your every wish, almost as if he had been reading your mind. 

He pressed up so that he hovered above you, eyes glassy with lust as he took you in beneath him before he drew himself out of you and promptly snapped his hips to yours once again. He took in every one of your movements — the way you rocked with the force of his thrust, the way you pushed against the bed as you moaned his name — almost as if he was searing the sight into his brain. It would be a warm memory for him to take with him when he would inevitably be called away to some place on the other side of the world, a memory to keep him warm on some cold, lonely night. Hell, it would be for you, too.

He built up to a bruising pace, one that stole the air from your lungs. All you could do was let yourself be swept away in the tidal waves of ecstasy.

John. John. John. That’s all there was. 

A rough, calloused hand slid up your stomach to knead at the plush of your covered breast. Through the thin lace, his fingers played with your nipple, his touch electric.

“Tha’s it, baby. Tha’s it…”

“Fuck!” You moaned. 

If you had any sense left, you would’ve wondered how John could have the inhuman stamina that he fucked you with now. No normal man could ever hold the pace that he slammed his hips into yours over and over again. White hot pleasure burned in your veins, your moans flowing free as he wrecked you. 

You danced at the edge of your orgasm for what felt like forever, every one of John’s grunts in your ear bringing you closer and closer to the finish line. Finally, with a particularly rough slam of his hips into yours, you tumbled over that precipice, free-falling in pure ecstasy. 

John fucked you through it, allthewhile mumbling breathy words of encouragement. “Ju’s like tha’.  Come for me, beautiful.”

As you came down, you found John chasing his own high. Despite your current state, you couldn’t help but want to show off one last time to help bring him the same pleasure you had just found.

“John… John, wanna ride you.”

Stark blue eyes snapped open to find yours, lust completely consuming his every feature. There was nothing he loved more than the sight of you riding him on a normal day, let alone one where you were dressed in the thing that drove him wild. For the second time that day, you knew you had him in the palm of your hand. 

Soon, he was seated on the bed and you were throwing your leg over his hip before sinking back down onto him again. Finally free to roam, his strong, steady hands kneaded at your thighs, your ass, your hips as he took in the sight of you above him like a man starved. 

As you began to move your hips, John’s grip on you tightened. With his head in a particularly ideal spot, hot lips lavished your collarbone, teeth nipping as he made his way down the valley of your breasts. 

You sped up the movement of your hips, his hips beginning to move in time with yours. Suddenly, he pulled the both of you down so that he was laying back on the bed with you over top of him, the sides of your hoodie falling over his chest. From this position, he was able to plant his feet to fuck up into you as you rode him. 

As you both continued to build back up to a punishing pace, John threw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut as he groaned out a strained, “Fuck! F-fuckin’ - ah - ‘ell!”

John wasn’t a quiet man in bed by any means, but he didn’t usually yell out like this unless he was completely lost in you. It was a telltale sign that he was almost there. 

“Come for me, John,” you moaned. “Give it to me, baby. Fill me up.”

With a deep groan, John roughly grabbed your hips and fucked into you as deep as he could. Hot cum coated your walls as he slowly fucked it into you. The strong muscle of his stomach jumped under you as he emptied everything he had, his breath ragged. 

His eyes were squeezed shut beneath you, closed from the force of his orgasm. Slowly, you leaned down and kissed him lightly. His eyes fluttered open only long enough to find you, curl his hand over the back of your head, and pull you down for a proper, heated kiss. 

I love you, it said. Unmistakably: I love you. 

“I think you got a little sidetracked from your work,” you laughed. 

John chuckled, sarcastically rolling his eyes. “I think you’ve cleared my schedule for the day, you bloody gorgeous minx.”

“Is that so? You must really like the red lace.”

Slowly, he guided his hoodie down your arms and tossed it to the side. 

“I do…” John whispered in your ear. 

His fingers ghosted up your back before unhooking your bra and tossing it carelessly to the floor just as he had done with the hoodie, leaving your chest bare. 

“But I like you more.”

[songsofadelaide]

prism — a side story to cosmic.

cw: captain narumi x (f) platoon leader, established (secret) relationship, fluff and smut, takes place between iv and v of cosmic. no use of 'yn'. narumi gen is his own warning. minors do not interact.

wc: 3k

You were no stranger to an observant eye. As a Platoon Leader, you were subject to your superiors' watchful surveillance and your team members's discerning gazes. It came as no surprise to you when the Captain of the First Division presented you with an upgrade to your beloved personal weapon, the submachine gun marked FE-0080 or Reginleif and asked for you to demonstrate your marksmanship that brought Asakusa's scorpion-type Honju to its knees.

So you acquiesced to your Captain's command and joined the rookies in their shooting training. You didn't back down from a posed challenge, after all, and you impressed your platoon members and fellow Platoon Leaders once more with your precise marksmanship. 

When Gen first took notice of your personal weapon, he surmised it was specifically made to pair with your speed. Anything heavier would weigh you down. Reginleif was a submachine gun made for more close combat offensives and had less firepower than a machine gun or a rifle, but it made up for its lack of strength with its speed and automatic mechanism.

"Unleashed Combat Power is at 67%."

As you finished setting a record for the rookies to beat, whispers from other division members filled the air. 

"The Platoon Leader's super quick, huh? It's almost like she vanishes into thin air."

"She even beat Platoon Leader Tachibana during the joint training exercises between the Eastern Divisions. That's how Captain Narumi discovered her."

"Speaking of which, she and the Captain have been spending a lot of time together..."

Gen himself didn't notice the amount of time you two were spending together. It was lost to him, but the memory of his enjoyment remained— you coming to see him, summoned or not. One day, your presence simply became natural, like a second instinct, until it became a necessity, especially for him.

You sitting next to him in his office, sometimes as Player 2 but most of the time just plain old you. You in your tracksuit uniform with nothing but a white tee underneath. You mindlessly scrolling through your social media while he stormed through whatever game he was playing, warming his bed until you had to leave him— whether it was due to an emergency or just because the day had ended. The sound of your laughter and derision filled his office and he can't seem to snap out of his compulsion to steal the rest of your sound straight away from your lips. 

He signalled for the end of the shooting training after the rookies concluded their rounds and dismissed everyone for the rest of the afternoon. 

"Captain Narumi, sir," you called out to your superior, who had just finished checking the Operation Leader's report handed to him by your Vice Captain. 

"Platoon Leader."

"One of my team members is celebrating their birthday today. They're planning a short trip to the city for drinks this evening," you started as you shadowed Gen's steps back to the base's main hall. "As much as I would love to finish our Maelduin's Portal campaign from earlier, my platoon would appreciate being able to spend some time with me, and I with them. I hope you're amenable, of course…"

He wanted to disagree with you but didn't want to come off as increasingly needy, especially since he knew now that people were already talking about how much time you've been spending together. Was he being needy? 

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, then."

Because he certainly didn't.

Your platoon arrived back at base a little before 21:00 and the first thing you wanted to do was take a dip into the baths because you were certain you smelled terrible— a smorgasbord of alcohol, barbecue smoke and cigarette ash, no thanks to the old smokers seated next to your group's long table.

But Gen had other plans in mind that derailed your quick trip to the baths. 

A single notification lit up from your mobile phone as you placed it on the desk in your personal quarters. 

[ N. Gen-隊長: I'm outside your room. ]

"Captain Narumi?" You quietly called for him, a tender smile on your face as you opened your door for him. "Did you wait for me all this time?" 

Gen smelled like he just got out of the bath, ready to go to bed, while you still smelled of smoke and alcohol. Still, he didn't think twice before embracing you, which you hesitantly returned. 

"I still smell like alcohol…" You murmured into the crook of his neck as you gently played with the hair on his nape. "Pretty sure I taste like it, too…"

"I don't really care…" He murmured before diving in for a kiss. Sure enough, you tasted like an evening out, the bitter taste of beer still lingering in your mouth. 

"Hey," you said as you gently broke your kiss. "You might be fine with this, but I'm not. I-I mean the way I smell. Please, Gen, let me take a quick bath. I promise I'll be back in five— no, ten minutes. I'll be back and let's pick up where we left off, okay?"  

Not even the grumble that left his lips could stop you from grabbing your basket of toiletries plus a change of clothes and leaving him for a bath you promised would be quick. 

It was only in the quiet that he realised it was his first time here in your personal quarters. It's always been you visiting him in his office but rarely did you invite him over�� for reasons now clear to him. 

Your room was incredibly bare, even for a Platoon Leader. Apart from the standard furnishings provided by the Defense Force, nothing in that place anchored you there or made known to others that it was your lodging. You kept no trinkets or little decorations, and on your desk sat your mobile phone, which even had the default wallpaper on. 

It had no passcode, either, and he found himself there aptly named 'Captain Narumi Gen' when he took a peep at your messages. All the people in your phonebook were properly labelled and addressed, such as your parents, your elder brother Kanata and his wife Marie, your squad leaders Akabane, Kagomura, Ookawa, and your fellow Platoon Leaders. 

You kept no notes, even fewer photos, and Gen was filled with this awful dread that you'd leave no trace behind if anything ever happened to you. His thoughts were soon replaced by a wave of comfort when he plopped down on your bed. "At least your pillows smell like you…"

He almost nodded off too if not for your arrival. You were still a little damp from your quick soak, your skin still warm and balmy as you shut your door behind you. "Are you still awake, Captain?"

"Yeah, I am. S'impossible to fall asleep here in your room," he said as he sat up again, quietly observing the way you neatly stashed your belongings in your single closet. 

"Really, now? I'd expect you to get a good night's rest here since I have a proper bed and all," you chuckled at his response. "Or are you so used to sleeping on a futon that a bed's uncomfortable for you?"

"No. Your bed… smells like you," he stated, a hand sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck this time. You were fresh out of the bath, still practically buzzing with warmth, and it made him uneasy in an exciting way. "It's…"

"Is it nasty?" You asked as you made your approach. You were in similar standard white shirts and black sweatpants and Gen visibly swallowed as you sat closely next to him. "Captain Narumi?"

"Don't… Don't call me that now," he grunted at you, his lip trembling in anticipation as you raised a hand to cup his cheek. 

"Gen…" 

Ah, his name sounded so, so sweet whenever it left your lips, but this time even more, and he was this close to stealing that sweetness himself if you hadn't scooched over to kiss him yourself. It was tender and affectionate and somewhat apologetic, tasting of green tea mouthwash this time, until you broke away from him and stuck out your tongue to lick the corner of his mouth.

You did it in such a teasing manner but he couldn't even smile— because he was already so, so hard. He pulled out his erection from under his sweatpants and guided your hand to it, his breath hitching as he felt your warm fingers curl around his length and stroke him at a leisurely pace.

Though you couldn't see his eyes, you were certain he had a heady, cloudy, half-lidded gaze on you. He followed your steady movement with bated breath as you got down on your knees and placed yourself between his thighs. 

"Doing it here in my room has its advantages," you told him as you started stroking him again, your breath ghosting over his length. "No one's gonna come in here unannounced…"

Gen let out a low hiss when you flicked out your tongue and slowly licked the tip of his cock, taking all the time in the world to do so. 

"Ggh… S-Stop it already—" He grunted yet again, and though he told you to stop, it was clear he meant otherwise by the way he had a guiding hand on the crown of your head. "Ugh…"

Hearing the sound of his voice dipping and straining in pleasure encouraged you to do even better for him. He shuddered as you gradually received him in your mouth. 

…Maybe he did find a way to tame that smart mouth of yours after all. 

The pace of your blowjob was pleasant, but you knew he was close by the way his thighs closed around you. He tried to wriggle away from you, but you shook your head at him and gently picked up the pace, your cheeks hollowed out as you sucked on him a bit more. 

He took your refusal to let him go as a sign that you'll receive his seed in your mouth, so he obliged you, his body convulsing as he held your head in his hands. A low, guttural moan he obviously tried to suppress escaped his lips as you swallowed his cum, thick strings stuck in the back of your throat, and you eventually released him with a soft 'pop' from your slightly swollen lips. 

"My good girl," his praise was caught between his soft exhales. He pulled you up into his arms and allowed you to tenderly sweep back his hair that curtained his lovesick gaze. 

"You're so handsome," you told him with a smile, your fingers gently toying with the hair on his nape once more. Gen adored being the recipient of such compliments, even more so from you, but he still gets embarrassed from time to time. He's red up to his neck now, his hands warm on your waist. 

"My good girl," he said yet again, his wine-coloured eyes holding your own heady gaze. One hand wandered underneath your shirt while the other dipped under the waistband of your sweatpants, deft fingers rhythmically running over the moistness between your legs. His lips curl into a teasing smile as your expression fades into one of pleasure.

He was already hard again, but he didn't want to be so greedy. Neither did he want the night to end so soon. He did away with your clothes, all similarly and carelessly tossed aside as he motioned for you to lie down on your back for him. A glint of mischief lit his eyes as he placed himself between your legs, lowering his face to your thighs, peppering them with light and faint kisses before he eventually opened his mouth to taste you. 

Another rapid rush of pleasure shot through your body as he gripped your thighs and happily ate you out, playing deaf to your impatient whines as he leisurely and unhurriedly licked and lapped at your folds.

"Tell me what you want, my good girl," Gen whispered, his low and lazy voice hot against your sopping pussy. He already knew what you wanted by the way you ground against his mouth, the burning sultriness between your legs threatening to overflow onto the rest of his face. He slid a finger knuckle-deep into you and thrust at what he believed was an agreeable pace given the sound of your moans, which you were trying your hardest to suppress.

His fingers were skilled and reached the places you never could on your own, but you needed more. "P…"

"If you tell me, 'please put it in my pussy', then I'll do it."

Oh, you wanted to hurl so many complaints at him, but your impatience already showed in your countenance and he was clearly enjoying this. "Well? Hurry up and say it."

"M… My p… ah…" You pathetically whimpered at him, your voice cracking as he broke into another crooked grin.

"Use your words, my pretty girl. I can't really understand you."

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes as you relented to his teasing, your legs quivering at the leisurely pace he's taken. "Please… Please put it in my p-pussy…!"

It didn't take long for Gen to take charge after hearing you plead for him so earnestly. He was already as stiff as a pole, anyway, so he angled himself over you and slid his length over the burning wetness of your pussy before thrusting into you. 

The pace he moved at was gratifying for you both, the sound of your whines was enough of a confirmation for him. 

"Ah…" You coiled your arms around his neck, trembling at his warm touch, his calluses rough yet ticklish against your skin, especially when he sank his fingers into the plushness of your breasts. "Gh…"

Why does it feel like this? You managed a thought as he fucked you deep into your sheets and mattress, the sound of your soft moans and his pleased groans filling the air in the room. You knew you'd be dead if someone else heard you, but you couldn't consider being considerate now— because he's s-so good…!

Gen's bangs fell over his eyes again, hiding away the blissed-out look on his face. He knew it didn't matter that much to you anymore and neither did it to him— because all he could think about at that moment was burying his cock deep into you— fuck good manners and propriety!

You were seeing stars now, his pace slightly rushed and rough and it could only mean that he was just as close to finishing as you were. "D-Don't… don't stop…"

But he knew he had to. He was smarter than this. He knew he had to pull out. You couldn't afford to— at a time like this, too! 

Yet in between his blissed-out euphoria and common sense was a single thought: a family. With you. Your stomach round with a child that was a heap of trouble like he was—

"P-Please, Gen… I'm so close…!"

He snapped back to his sweet reality— your walls tightening around him as he thrust with even more urgency this time. 

"Cum for me, then, my good girl," he managed to chuckle at you. You choked out another small cry as tears filled your eyes again in a wave of oscillating pleasure, your spasms making it difficult for him to pull out as he intended. 

"Y-You can cu—" 

Gen pulled out of you panting the moment you were about to say he could finish inside you instead, opting to spill his scorching cum all over your stomach. He caught his breath before flicking his middle finger on your forehead with all his tender might. 

"Ow! Wh-What was that for?!"

"At least let me put a ring on you before you ask me to cum inside ya!"

"You didn't have to hit me that hard."

"It wasn't even that hard."

A large bandaid was spread over your forehead where your boyfriend last exacted his violence on you. Your quiet breakfast for two at the mess hall the following morning was cut short when Eiji sat next to Gen with his breakfast, along with a clean folder that contained only two sheets of paper.

"Good morning, Narumi. And the Platoon Leader, too. Once you're done eating, I'll need you two to fill out these forms," he stated as he handed you one of the sheets with a header in bold letters that read Workplace Relationship Disclosure Form.

"O-Oh," came your slightly startled reaction as you realised what it was. You placed down your utensils and read the information that had to be filled out. "S-So, do I write 'boyfriend' here? This is so embarrassing…"

"The hell do you mean it's embarrassing? Are you embarrassed to be with me? Embarrassed that I'm your boyfriend?!" Gen yapped at you as he filled out the form handed to him. You were shocked to see him filling out the paperwork himself, even more so when he wrote 'fiancée' next to your name. 

"If there is anything to be embarrassed about, it's keeping your fellow Platoon Leaders awake at night because of your… raucous behaviour," your Vice Captain stated with a feigned cough, and though it was clearly addressed to you, his sharp gaze was directed at your Captain. "If you don't want the top brass to hear about this and mete out a punishment for you both, I suggest you refrain from doing it here at base."

"O-Of course, V-Vice Captain Hasegawa! It won't happen again!" You squeaked at the older man and gave him a stiff bow. 

Gen gaped at your quick surrender before eventually turning to Eiji, who had yet to start his meal. "Haa? We're actually doing important work here! They can consider this our attempt at preserving my lineage, Japan's Strongest— Ow!" 

The older man flicked his middle finger at the young Captain's forehead this time. "Since everyone's talking about you two anyway, let's give them more to gossip about. But I expect not to hear anything about it again starting tomorrow."