#a crime to have that many buttons undone

[httpiastri]

liam saying "what the fuck" in his dumb accent is one of my favorite things this year

i can’t even tell what kind of accent it is he’s doing 😭

[spiderispunk]

Use Me

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: Smut (18+). Mentions of Alcohol Consumption. Semi-Tipsy Sex. Thigh Riding. Unprotected Sex. Dirty Talk.  A/N: Breaking my writing drought with the horniest thing I've written in recent history. Like all good fics, this one started with a porn video. Hope you all enjoy.

I did my best proofreading, but I probably missed something. All mistakes are my own.

You follow Bradley into his apartment building, giggling quietly as you stumble along behind him. His hand is warm and solid, his fingers tangled in yours. A steady guide as he leads you up the stairs and down the dim hallway past the other quiet apartments.

Your blood sings in your veins, dancing with the high buzz of a night out with friends. The whole night is awash with a shimmering silver glow. You can still feel the pulse of the music and the warm ocean breeze on your skin, and taste the faint salt and lime flavor of the three margaritas you had earlier tonight. 

You’d started feeling frisky half-way through your second one. Something about the salt and tequila had you eyeing up your boyfriend and slowly sliding your hand up his thigh. You’d seen his smirk and raised eyebrow out of the corner of your eye, but he’d made no move to stop you. Instead he’d continued on with his conversation without breaking a sweat, as if his girlfriend wasn’t feeling him up underneath the booth.

And really, how could you keep your hands off of him when he looked so good? Dressed in a fitted pink silk shirt with the first two buttons undone to show a golden chain resting atop the smattering of dark hair that covered his chest. Jeans so fitted it was like he was on a personal mission to ruin your life. And his hair, curling slightly from the spray of the sea. It was all too much for your tipsy self to handle. 

Things had carried on from there. You’d danced a little too indecently in the center of the dancefloor; your back pressed against his broad chest with his hands gripping your waist, controlling the grind of your hips. You threw heavy lidded looks over your shoulder, and Bradley answered them with lewd ones of his own. You could feel his cock straining through his jeans, so obvious through the thin material of your dress. At one point his hand slid up and under the back of the flowy skirt, toying with you briefly.   

Maybe that was the breaking point. The moment that had you abandoning the dancefloor at Mach 10 speed, dragging Bradley behind you. You hadn’t even bothered to give a flimsy excuse to your friends, almost certain they could suss out the true reasoning behind your sudden exit. 

You probably would have fucked in the parking lot if it wasn’t so crowded. Instead, you had to settle for heavy petting on the way home. One of Bradley’s hands gripped the steering wheel, the other sat on your thigh, pushing your dress higher and higher until his fingers rubbed against the lace of your underwear. Your hands were plenty busy as well, rubbing the stiff erection his jeans failed to hide. 

Now you’re back home in record time, watching the relaxed sway of Bradley’s broad shoulders as he walks in front of you. He stops in front of his door, and shoves his free hand into his front pocket to grab the house keys. 

“Gonna need this for a minute,” Bradley smiles and kisses the back of your hand before gently placing it back at your side.

Impatience flitters through your body as you watch him slowly sift through the many keys on his chain. Seriously, how many keys does one man need? He has to be doing this on purpose. Prolonging the search just because he knows it’ll make you squirm. 

“Hurry up.” You wrap your arms around his waist and trail your lips across his shoulder.

Bradley chuckles. “Someone’s eager,” he teases. 

“I wanna fuck my boyfriend,” you mumble, fingers trailing up and under his shirt to run along the length of his waistband. “That a crime?” 

He finally selects the correct key and pushes it into the lock. “Nope,” he says, but still doesn’t unlock the door. 

“Well unless you’re going to fuck me right here in this hallway, I suggest you open the fucking door.” You punctuate the request with a squeeze over his clothed crotch. 

“Bossy,” Bradley says and finally unlocks the door. “It’s kinda hot. Wanna boss me around tonight, baby? Want me to let you call the shots?” 

There’s a deep timbre to his tone now. The words are rich with desire. You feel his entire body rumble with it. You feel your own yearning slide through your body. Slow and heated like molten metal. It pools low in your belly, sending an ache through your cunt. 

Your clit throbs and you bite your bottom lip. “Inside. Now.” 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He pushes the front door open and pockets his keys. There’s a smirk on his face when he turns to face you. “Where do you want–” 

His question is cut off by the surge of your lips. You mold your body against his, holding him close with your fingers tangled in his hair. Bradley backs into the apartment and kicks the front door shut. His hands slide down the curve of your back, and Bradley grabs your ass, keeping you pressed firm against him as he teeters further into the apartment. 

You tease his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue, lightly tracing the pink skin until his mouth parts in invitation. You moan quietly as the taste of him– faint traces of fruit from the cider he was drinking, a bit of mint from the Altoid he’d slipped earlier- greets you. His tongue slides against yours, hot and eager to taste you in kind. 

How many surfaces does Bradley press you against before deciding on the couch? There was the console by the front door, where he stopped only briefly so you both could kick off your shoes while he kissed and licked down your neck. The kitchen door frame so he could grind his hips against yours until you whined. Then he’d deposited you on the arm of the sofa, only to sink to his knees a moment later and bury his head between your thighs. Only then did he settle on the couch with you on top of him. 

You reach for his belt immediately, undoing the buckle and then popping the button on his jeans. In no time you’ve got a hand wrapped around his cock, and are stroking him slowly. 

“Not that I don’t enjoy where this is going,” Bradley groans, voice muffled by your tits as he presses open-mouthed kisses along the plunging neckline of your dress. “But what’s gotten into you?” 

“Three margaritas and my smokin’ hot boyfriend,” you say, twisting your wrist. 

He groans, and the pleasure-warped sound sends a jolt through your body. “Haven’t gotten in you yet.” Bradley chuckles, low and throaty.  

 “Yeah, well what are you waiting for?” You ask. 

“I’m waiting for you to tell me what to do.” His smoked-whiskey eyes meet yours. “You’re calling the shots, remember?” 

You sit back slightly. “Take my dress off.” 

A grin slowly spreads over his face. “There you go, honey. Now we’re in business.” 

He gathers the skirts of your dress in both hands and slowly slides it up your body. The heat of his calloused fingers sends goosebumps rippling across your skin. You lift your arms, and Bradley eases the dress over your head and tosses it onto the ground. 

He tilts his head to the side. “And?” 

“And your shirt. I don’t want to rip the buttons accidentally.”

Bradley kisses along your jaw as he unbuttons the shirt with steady fingers. “You like the shirt?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders out of the silk and dropping it on the floor near your clothes. 

“Love it. I want you to wear it again.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and play with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He grins. “You got it, babe. What’s next?”

“Next, you kiss me,” you whisper and slot your lips against his. 

Bradley’s mouth devours you, hot with a passion that makes you dizzy. His hand trails up your body to cup your breast. His fingers slip past the lace of your bra and flick at your nipple until it hardens. You grind your hips down onto his thigh, gasping against his lips when your clit catches on the rough material of his jeans. 

“Fuck, baby.” Bradley breaks the kiss to watch your desperate movements. “Look at you all worked up. All because of me and that fucking shirt?” He asks and fits his other hand against your hip to guide your stilted rhythm.

You nod, head tilting back at the delicious friction. Your toes curl as the fierce heat of pleasure overtakes your senses. You’re greedy with it, chasing after the spark that will set the smoldering flames ablaze. You get closer to it with every desperate rock of your hips. 

Bradley leans back against the cushion. “That’s it,” he murmurs encouragement. “Get yourself off on my thigh. You’re so fucking hot.” 

You whine, nails digging into his shoulder as an anchor. “Bradley.” 

“I’m right here, honey,” he grins up at you. “Keep going. Make a mess all over me.” 

Shivers wrack your body, and something akin to fire rushes over your skin. The beginnings of something heady and sweet swells within you. You rock your hips steadily, bottom lip trapped between your teeth, and eyebrows furrowed in concentration, intent on reaching it. 

Bradley’s mouth charts a wanton path over your skin. From mouthing at the pulse point of your jaw, to a chaotic, sloppy zig zag down your throat. His tongue darts out to taste the salt on your skin, the perfume dabbed in the hollows of your collarbone, until he reaches the barrier of your bra. 

It’s off in seconds, clumsily joining the growing pile of clothes gathering at the foot of the sofa. The tip of his tongue traces the swell of your breasts. His teeth scrape the sensitive skin, teasing goosebumps and blood to the surface. Then his warm lips chase the sting away, pressing soft kisses over the secret blossoming marks. 

You cry out when his mouth closes over your nipple, sucking and gently biting. You arch into his touch, a silent plea for more. Your orgasm so close, you can almost taste it, sticky and sweet, in the back of your throat. 

“‘M close,” you whisper, fingers gripping Bradley’s shoulders like a life raft. 

“That’s my girl. Come for me, baby,” Bradley mumbles against your spit-slicked nipple. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Wanna see you come all over my thigh. Give it to me.” 

Your head tilts back further, a silent moan on your tongue as the end rushes up to meet you. When you come, you come hard. Tiny peals of pleasure fall from your lips like a prayer. Gratitude and joy wrapped up in quiet moans and whimpers. 

Bradley groans, watching you with hungry eyes. He takes in your every move. Each flutter of your eyelids, every twitch of your lips. The slack of your jaw, perfect lips shaping the syllables of his name over and over again. The way your body shudders as hot pleasure takes over. 

You slump against his chest, boneless. Your chin rests on his shoulder as you catch your breath. 

“Goddamn,” he whistles. “I love watching you come.” The hand on your hip slides down to where your body is joined. His fingers swirl around in the slick mess pooled between you. “Look at the mess you’ve made.” He holds his fingers up to the light.

You blink, suddenly a little bashful about the growing wet patch on Bradley’s jeans. You avert your gaze, but Bradley clicks his tongue and shakes his head. 

“Look,” he says again, and this time you do. “That was all you. My perfect, gorgeous girl.” He brushes his thumb against your damp cunt and you groan. “So fucking wet. I can’t wait to be inside you.” His damp fingers wrap around his stiff cock. “What do you want, baby?” 

You gently wrap your fingers around the gold chain hanging around his neck, and pull him closer to kiss him briefly. “Take your pants off,” you whisper when your lips part. “And then, I’m going to fuck you.”

Bradley must set a world record for how quickly he manages to get those jeans off and onto the floor. It’s a wonder you managed not to fall off of the couch. 

You settle on top of him again and slide your panties to the side. You knock his hand out of the way and stroke his dick slowly. The groan Bradley lets out when you slowly sink down onto him borders on painful. His jaw flexes and he breathes deeply through his nose. 

“Jesus,” he breathes. “You’re so fucking tight. Feel fucking incredible.” He wraps his large arms around your body and holds you as close as he can. 

You whine at the stretch as you take him completely. You set a leisurely pace, allowing you and Bradley to just feel each other. Letting the heat build in your chest and well over. Your breathing slows, matching the steady up and down of Bradley’s shoulders. He’s got his head buried in your neck, and you can feel each of his dewey, warm exhales on your skin. 

“Just like that,” he whispers, his voice tight with the last remnants of his self-control. “Fuck me, baby. You do it so well.” 

That sets you off. You abandon the slow rock of your hips and fuck him desperately. Your hips meet his in a sloppy rhythm. It’s a race towards the finish, towards satisfaction. You lean back, balancing your hands on Bradley’s knees in search of that angle that’ll have you seeing stars.

“Right there, right there, right there,” Bradley groans through gritted teeth. “That's right. Take it, honey. Use my cock and make yourself come. Wanna feel you dripping all over me. Shit.” A long, drawn out sound as your cunt squeezes around him, making his hips buck up to yours. 

“Fuck, it’s so good,” you whine. Your nails dig shallow marks down his chest. 

“Yeah. I know, sweetheart. I know.” He presses his thumb against your clit and rubs in time with the sloppy grind of your hips. “Wanna come, don’t you?” 

“Yes.” You nod. “So bad.”

“Whatever you want. It’s all yours, baby,” he whispers. “Just take it.” His jaw clenches, and you can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s so close to the edge. And you’re millimeters away from it yourself. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and concentrate on the slick circles he thumbs against your clit. Warmth bursts low in your belly, growing ever brighter with each needy roll of your body. Between the thumb on your clit, and the gruff praises Bradley whispers, you’re wrecked. Shattered. Barely hanging on to your sanity. 

“Gonna come,” you whimper. 

“There’s my girl. That’s it, baby,” Bradley praises, making your stomach flip. “Let go for me.” 

Your thighs grow taut, legs trembling around his waist as you reach the blissful peak. You fall against Bradley’s chest, but he’s right there, sturdy and strong. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you close as his hips fuck up into you, shoving you deeper into the throes of passion. 

“Fuck, honey. Shit. Feel so good when you come.” Bradley’s right behind you, coming inside you with a strangled groan. His grip on your body so tight, you know you’ll have some bruises on your hips tomorrow. 

You melt into his arms, body lax against his as your heartbeat resumes a normal pace. 

Bradley nudges his nose against yours and kisses your lips sweetly. “You good?” He asks. 

“Better than good. On Cloud 9, actually.” You run your fingers through his hair and play with his damp curls. “Feel free to wear that shirt more often.” 

He laughs. “Oh, I will. Especially if it’ll lead to this.” Bradley smacks your ass. 

You give him a smirk. “I never stood a chance. You know what they say about giving a woman margaritas.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Night Moves 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, stealing, crime, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Many might complain for the short attention span of the male kind, but you can't agree. In your experience, their lack of focus is a blessing, a profit even. You just need to show them something shiny and let them trip over themselves. So far, that's worked for you.

You giggle, certain to push your chest out just so as your latest mark tells a lame joke. He's kind of cute behind the frameless glasses and questionable choice in facial hair. Easy, is how you'd describe him best.

He reaches across the bar to slide the drink he bought for you closer. You wink at him and pick it up, pouting just so before sipping from the brim.

He watches your lip, hypnotised by your act, by you. You touch the front of his button-up shirt, ignoring the sweat stains under the arms. He nervous and jittery like a puppy. You put your drink down and lean closer on your stool.

"So, IT, sounds interesting. I'm no good with tech," you call over the music, running your hand up and down his lapel. "Do you do house calls?"

"Well, um, I work in an office, I don't... install," he stutters as you play with his top button, flicking it undone and giving an 'oops' expression. He doesn't fix it as you sit back and take another drink. "But if you need something done, I could probably, er, help.”

"Oh yeah, you're so sweet," you dab your mouth with your knuckles daintily, your third drink of the night hitting just right. "How has someone not snatched you up?"

"Uh," he chuckles and looks around, "really?"

"Sure, honey," you touch his collar again, "you're a cutie."

He turns red, a shade to match his garish satin shirt. You're not sure who suggested that but you've seen worse. You drain your glass and fan yourself in the heat of the club.

"Oh, no," you say dramatically, "Jamie, I gotta hit the ladies..."

"Uh, yeah, that's fine, but er, it's Jake, whatever, I'll be here," he grins.

"Amazing," you snatch up your clutch, "I'll be right back, kay, baby."

You pull him close as you hover on the edge of the stool and plant one right on his lips. He's too stunned to react as he lets you kiss him sloppily. You let your hand wander down and snake it around him. You squeeze his ass and purr before popping your mouth off his and dragging your hand away.

"Don't go flirting with other sluts," you hop down off the stool and strut away, sure to swing your hips to distract from the plastic against your palm.

You bring your hand up as you turn down the hall towards the bathroom and admire the golden lettering of his credit card. The dumbass didn't even bother to put it back in his wallet after buying you a cocktail. You roll your eyes and tuck it away in your purse.

You enter the bathroom and check your reflection. You daintily touch your lashes to fix them as two drunken girls argue over the next sink. Twins, huh? Don't see that every day.

Time for a new mission. You hike your tits up and turn to check out your ass. You're not vain but you work hard to maintain your figure. It's part of your work, you have to keep everything in tiptop shape.

You head back out, swaying to the music as you blend back into the crowd. You stop to dance on a few guys, sizing them up as you toy with them. There's only so much BO you can put up with, even if they have a black card.

As you scope out the room, your eye is caught by two watching eyes. Bold and blue and alluring. Attraction is less than intrinsic with these things but damn if this man isn't stunning. You smile at him, tilting your head coyly as you look away.

When you look back, he's still staring. You bite your lip and push away from the guy trying to hump your ass. Animals. Actually, animals have survival instincts, these idiots are all too hammered to smell a fire.

You weave through the crowd as you keep your sights on the man in-- Gucci. Ooo, big spender. The jacket is sleek and cut perfectly to his form. He's fucking hot. You wouldn't mind doing more than fishing in his pockets.

You near, a bit shy as you twist your hands together, leaning on one heel. You bat your lashes as he angles his jaw, "hey."

"Um, hope I'm not stepping on someone else's territory," you grip your clutch tight, "I mean, you're too cute to be here alone."

"I could say the same," he counters, his eyes flicking up and down your body. "Thirsty?"

"I'm a bit parched," you answer.

"After you," he waves towards the bar.

You glance over and see Jamie or whatever looking for you. You smile and smush your lips together, smearing the gloss around.

"Actually, the bar upstairs has better drinks. Doesn't cheap out on the liquor."

"Lead the way," he shrugs.

You push your shoulders up so your chest bounces just a little and you turn on your stilleto. You pass between the bodies as he stays close behind, his shadow looming in the flashing lights. You head upstairs, certain that he's getting a good view of your ass, he might even be able to tell that you have no panties on.

You get to the next floor and head to the bar. The burly blond recognise you and gives a smile as he approaches. The handsome stranger rests his hand on your lower back as he leans over the bar top. "Scotch, and whatever the lady likes."

You order another gin and tonic with lime. You turn to the man as you wait for your drink, his hand dragging to your hip and lingering there. You admire the way his shirt clings to his broad chest.

"You from the city or visiting?" You ask.

"I'm in and out," he says evasively, "do I get a name, beautiful?"

"Roxy," you offer your alias, "and you, sexy?"

"Nick," he answers and he reaches in his jacket pocket and pulls out his wallet. He swipes his card as the bartender holds out the machine.

"Nick, I like that," you preen as he hands you your drink.

"Wanna sit down?" He asks.

You shrug and let him take you to a booth in the corner. You slide in close to him and set your drink down. He casually sips and stretches his arm over your shoulders. Okay, he means business. Maybe it's worth the long con.

"You come here a lot?" He asks as he leans in.

"When I'm bored. Unfortunately, I don't find much fun," you touch his thigh as you shift to face him, "maybe you can change that."

"Maybe," he rubs your shoulder as he draws you even closer, "you're walking around this place with your ass out... I might just have to put it to use."

You brush along his jaw and tilt your head to kiss him. You pull him into a deep embrace, running your hand up and down his chest as you moan into his mouth. He melts into you and you catch yourself doing the same.

Your hand wanders subtly across his jacket. You could probably get his wallet out right there, he has one of those ridiculously slim ones made of metal. Just a little–

His hand fists around yours as his lips part and he curls his arm tight around the back of your neck. You squeak, caught, and he presses his wet lips to your temple. You fucked up, you should've waited, you should've enjoyed that genuine bit of tension a little longer.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he growls.

[chamerionwrites]

🧂

The problem with prose in the style of “she breasted boobily down the stairs” is NOT that it is horny (I support horny prose!) nor even that it is offensive and objectifying (slightly spicier take but imho You Are Allowed To Write From The POV Of Wretched Misogynists Sometimes is a logical extension of You Can, Should, and Arguably Must Write Unlikable Characters; obviously it’s worth criticizing when an author shows zero ability and/or desire to write from any POV but that of a wretched misogynist, but as far as general principle goes I’m always going to come down on the side that there’s nothing inherently wrong with writing bad people).

No. The problem with prose in the style of “she breasted boobily down the stairs” is quite simply and straightforwardly that it is BAD WRITING. It tells us nothing about the woman in question, except that she has a nice rack (or at least that the POV character thinks so). It tells us nothing about the POV character, except that he’s a basic bitch who likes tits (groundbreaking stuff for your Very Cishet Male™️ character). It’s not even good at being horny!!!!! Sure, perhaps it could be argued that I, Chamerion, am not the target audience when it comes to the luscious allure of boobs. But imo genuinely good erotic writing should be able to make desire legible to any audience. If you’re describing a hot woman, and doing it well, then a straight woman or a gay man or even somebody who’s ace ought to be able to see the appeal. (If you’re describing a hot man and doing it well, then a straight man or a lesbian or an ace reader should be able to see the appeal!) And if they can’t understand any part of the attraction even intellectually, then you have failed at your single most fundamental writerly job: conveying feelings with words.

In all seriousness - rule number one of descriptive writing is that sentences such as, “the puppy was cute,” or “the woman was beautiful,” are all but empty of meaning. And yet descriptions of desire for women are constantly like ooh her skin was soft. Ooh her hair was shiny. Ooh her curves filled out her dress. Ooh her breasts were the perfect size. WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS MEAN, YOU MEALY-MOUTHED ASSHOLES. YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO TELL ME WHY THIS SENTENCE DESERVES TO TAKE UP SPACE IN YOUR NOVEL. Again, I freely admit that I am not the authority on feeling verklempt about boobs but I do have it on excellent authority that people who DO do not all agree on what “perfect size” means, unless by perfect size you mean “I am imagining that they might fit nicely in my hands,” in which case SAY THAT. Like, even saying that her shirt had one button too many undone - it’s far from an original description of desire, but at least it conveys information (that she got dressed in a hurry? that she’s trying to catch the eye of someone in particular? that she likes to dress a little daringly, and the POV character appreciates daring? we might not even know at first from the context, but it’s a description that at least has us analyzing and asking questions!). It may not be the sharpest and most specific description on the planet but it’s miles ahead of the boob-shaped Rorschach inkblot that is “perfect-sized breasts.”

Anyway. I could go on at length about the kind of writing that I think does convey desire effectively, and maybe I will elaborate later, but this is the heart of my cranky-old-man-on-the-porch rant. I’m not saying we should talk less about the sexism of certain authors. But I do think we should spend MORE time sending them to art jail for the crime of being unutterably formulaic and boring.

[getitwhenyougotit]

Pay It Forward

Casey Novak x Fem! Reader

It was a late morning for you. You had so many things to do, but none of them were getting done before you had your morning coffee.

You threw on a hoodie over your pajamas, grabbing your phone, keys, and wallet - shoving them in your hoodie pocket before slipping on some shoes, and making your way out of the door.

The day was a beautiful, albeit chilly, autumn day. Leaves of orange, red, and yellow covered the streets and patches of grass alike. You decided to walk to the coffee shop down the street from your apartment.

Once you arrived, you noticed that the line was oddly long for it to be 10 am on Wednesday, but you didn’t mind the wait. 

As your wait in line had hit the 4-minute mark, you briefly raised your head from your phone, adjusting your glasses to sit comfortably on the upper part of the bridge of your nose. The bell above the door signaling that someone else was entering the shop grabbed your attention. This had already happened three times since you had taken your place in line, but the most recent customer of the coffee shop caught your eye.

Entering the long line, there she stood. Statuesque and beautiful. Clad in dark green slacks, a black satin blouse with a few buttons left undone at the top, with black heels that complemented her long legs. She had red hair that cascaded beautifully down her back, the slightly curled ends sitting softly at her shoulders. She was breathtaking.

She took her place in line and stole a glance down at the silver watch that adorned her wrist.

You took a long swallow before reluctantly turning your eyes away from the woman. Finally, it was your turn to order.

“Hey, what can I get  for you today?” The cashier says.

“Hi, can I have an almond croissant, a plain bagel with cream cheese, a large cold brew - with caramel and cold foam, and an extra large dark roast - one and one, please?”

The cashier nods and writes on a little notepad as you rattle off your order to them.

“Of course, anything else?”  Just as you were about to answer no, you had a thought spring into your head.

“Yes, actually, I’d also like to cover the tab for the redhead in the black shirt behind me,” you say, handing the cashier your card.

“Alright, coming right up.” the cashier smiles as they scribble your name onto a clear cup.

You step out of the line, taking a seat in a chair near the counter waiting for your name to be called. You start going through your emails on your phone, knowing your large order was going to take a little while to be finished.

“Uhm, excuse me?” a husky voice says from right beside you. You hum and slowly look up from your phone. 

Fuck, it was the redhead from the line. 

“This seat taken?” She gestures toward the empty chair right in front of you, a slight smirk playing on her lips.

“No, not at all” you smile back, insisting on her sitting down. She was more than likely waiting for her order now, too.

“Thanks for covering my order,” she says as she sits down. You turn your phone screen off, giving her all your attention. “You’ll have to let me repay you one day,” she continues, her voice laced with amusement and genuine gratitude.

“Well, I wasn’t looking for payback, but I might just have to take you up on that offer. What's your name?” You said,, surprised by the random streak of confidence you’d been on today.

“Novak. Casey Novak.” She extends a hand out to you for a handshake, 

“Y/N” you say, accepting the handshake. “So, Casey Novak, why are you all dressed up on this fine Wednesday morning?” You ask.

“I have court today. I’m an assistant district attorney for the manhattan special victims unit,” she says. You knew she looked important, but you didn’t expect her to be an ADA.

“Wow,” you say, “Impressive,”

“Yeah, Go Sex Crimes, I guess” Casey makes herself laugh at this one. “What about you, what’s your special occasion?” She jokingly gestures to your navy blue hoodie and grey sweatpants. She notices the emblem of Yale University embroidered across the center of the hoodie and is admittedly even more intrigued with you.

“Oh, uhm,” You think for a second before you come up with the perfect answer. “Sleep.” It was your turn to laugh at your own joke as Casey joins in.

“Oh sleep, I wish I could. Today’s trial is going to be a long one” Just as you were about to inquire about the case, your name is called to retrieve your order. You reluctantly stand up to grab the bag with your pastries and the cardboard cup holder holding your drinks.

“Well, Casey, I’ll be seeing you around?”

“I hope so,” she smiles brightly. “Here,” she reached inside her briefcase, finding a business card to scribble her personal phone number on the back of it. 

“I’ll be waiting for your call. I need to know what tab I can cover for you,” she winks as you accept the card. You bid her goodbye one last time as you make your way out of the coffee shop, the biggest grin painted on your face.

[naffeclipse]

I remembered I can be a menace in here, too 💜 Hi Naff all the talk about whore mob bosses not buttoning their shirts reminded me of that "look at him. he's been trying to tie his shoes for 5 minutes. he's crying" thing and I raise you: they can't button. maybe they don't know because a life of crime teaches many things but thats not one of them, or maybe the buttons are simply too small and fiddly for their fingers. they buttoned their shirts up halfway once, enough to get their big heads through, and now just leave it like that.

"Can you please button up your shirt" "Why don't you come over here and do it yourself ~" "Nevermind" meanwhile metaphorically, whichever mob boss is just heavily sweating at nearly being caught

I guess I just like my smooth men with a pinch of pathetic and having them cry at trying and failing to button their shirts is too funny to me

Heya, babe ♥

ALSJDFF PFFFFT SAME!!! I love that meme, and Detective!Y/N would sniff out this little pathetic trait of the mob bosses immediately.

Detective!Y/N: This is the third time you've come in here with your top two buttons undone. Mob Boss!Sun: *coy* You want more undone? Detective!Y/N: I want you to wear your shirt properly. Mob Boss!Sun: Lovely, I will wear my clothes however I please in my own residence— Detective!Y/N: Do you struggle with doing your buttons? Mob Boss!Sun: What, no— Detective!Y/N: Your optics flashed. You're lying to me, aren't you? Mob Boss!Sun: ...Come and do them up for me. Detective!Y/N: I'll pass.

[sagnaevi]

"If you're going to laugh, I am going to leave, with or without my clothes," Yingxing spoke as he sat on the bed in nothing but a very nice jockstrap that showed off a clear bulge and the hitman's firm cheeks. Yes, he had sneaked into Jing Yuan's home and yes, he had made himself nice and cozy on the big bed, but only because he wanted to surprise the policeman. What could he say? He wanted to do something for Jing Yuan. A red tint could be seen upon the fair cheeks as crimson depths gazed slightly off to the side. He really wasn't used to do this, without some lengthy mental preparation first. This might not be the most romantic move, but at least it was much better than simply sending Jing Yuan a text. Also... he had actually brought food with him, but that was for later and also, left a beautiful bouquet of flowers upon the male's kitchen table.

✧ ┊ ❛ 𝗩𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗲'𝘀 𝗗𝗮𝘆 ᴺᵒᵗ ᵃᶜᶜᵉᵖᵗⁱⁿᵍ / @iiryoku

❛ Haha, I would never laugh at you, dear Yingxing. ❜ Jing Yuan reassured with a warm chuckle, an emote that -to the ears of a stranger- sounded contradictionary to his words. But those who knew Jing Yuan as a person would know that his soft laughs were never to mock another. Indeed, he would never laugh at the criminal's attempts at romance, no matter how crude or refined. Yingxing did not do things like this often, it would be foolish to take such a gesture for granted and make a joke out of it. Golden depths lingered upon the cheeky gift upon his king-sized bed; appreciative, hungry like a predator with a prey in it's sights. With his strong and capable hands, Jing Yuan began to - slowly - undress from the many layers of his police attire; all the while never taking his keen gaze off the man before him. One by one, the buttons of his suit were undone, revealing a slim-fitted t-shirt underneath. ❛  I saw the flowers on the kitchen table, Yingxing. A very romantic gesture of you, for which you have my appreciation and gratitude. ❜ The fondness in his voice should emphasise his honesty. It had truly been a sweet thing of the Hitman to do, but the truth was that it was not quite as sweet as that pretty blush upon the shelf of Yingxing's cheeks. He knew this was a sensitive thing for the Hitman, uncharted territory, so to speak. Just for me, is that right, Yingxing? Had Jing been a cat, then he would have purred at the sight of the younger male's exposed body. Exposed and perfectly built body, with a nice bulge as the icing on the cake. Jing rolled off the tshirt; exposing his own broad and defined muscles, before tossing the fabric aside. Then, he let loose the ponytail which held his hair in check; releasing the white locks so it framed his face like a lion's wild mane. Approaching the bed, Jing positioned himself by the bedside, right next to the wanted criminal. Putting his phone on silent and setting aside his wristwatch, Jing then unbuckled the belt around his waist, and unzipped his trousers, which revealed just how much he enjoyed this little break in on this romantic day. His member had reacted quite niecly to the near naked sight of Yingxing, and the tip had left a damp spot against his underwear. Should he feel ashamed of his shameless reaction? Maybe, but he didn't. Instead he would take great pleasure in this little game of theirs, and indulge Blade this evening.

❛ It's a crime to enter another's home uninvited. Whatever should I do with you, hm? ❜

[kinglyisms-archived]

♚ — @prerodinu ;; Hiroki & Rarlith.

Rarlith knows he shouldn't be in here. He knows that the moment Artem finds out he did this, this is not going to be good. Though he can't find it in himself to care. His fingers moving over books and things as he waits for the other to appear. He could lounge in a seat like he normally does, but that might be in poor taste actually. Instead, he simply looks about the room touching and picking up things. Looking at the papers strewn about. He's not reading anything he's just curious about the other. The moment the door opens, he doesn't turn, instead he picks up the book that was there flipping through its pages like he hasn't had a care in the world. He really doesn't. "Hello, King Hiroki." Rarlith smiles, now turning himself around and leaning against the edge of the Kings desk. He was wearing pants thankfully, Artem made him change before coming here, but his shirt, that was a different story, buttons undone all the way to the one or two lowly buttons on the bottom that held the shirt together from being completely undressed. He really didn't like these shirts on this world. He prefered his robes. "Price Consort, Rarlith Nax Xukvi Luri II. Though my friends call me Rarlith and my family calls me Nax so whatever you prefer is fine with me. Though my loves do scream out all my names." He tosses a wink at the other before setting the book down. "I wanted to meet another King of this place, My home world we don't call our men King mostly because Queens do tend to do better so I don't find many Kings in my travels, and the ones who I do meet aren't as-" He purses his lips leaning his head to the side. "Gorgeous as you are. They are actually really old." He stands up offering his hand to the other. Though he would much rather enjoy a kiss or something else this would have to do.

   “Oh. Really? How very nice for you.” His voice is very calm, irrationally calm and quiet. Hiroki blinks as he watches the–stranger move around his office, poking at things and messing them over. He moves his hands together, tugs the gloves on off and slips them into his pockets. “Goodbye.” 

    BOOM. 

   With a single wave of his hands he had exploded the desk in the middle of the office, blasting it to absolute pieces and sending various parts of them through the windows and walls. The doors to the office are thrown open aggressively, the soldiers rushing inside and filling the room entirely. Elijah reached for Hiroki first, grasping at him and yanking the King aggressively behind him. Once he had secured the crown's safety, he lifted his gaze up to look around the room for the reason for the explosion. 

   And the weird thing that had introduced itself was still standing. Hiroki tried to force himself out from behind Elijah, his hands ready to fly to go for another try this time intending to aim for the actual target rather than just an indirect explosion. Elijah keeps a firm grip on him though, holding the angry King in place with a careful hold. “Your Majesty, hang on, please.” He tried and Hiroki had absolutely no interest in this. 

   He finally breaks free from the Werewolf’s hold and launches for the weirdo–only to be picked right up and thrown over Elijah’s shoulder like he weighed nothing. 

   “He’s pack.” 

   The fight instantly leaves him.

   An awkward silence fills the room, the soldiers looking around nervously. Then, at a nod from Elijah they start to filter out of the room one by one. Elijah gently sets Hiroki back down on his feet and the King begins tugging his clothes back into place, pulling the gloves back out from his pocket. He doesn’t turn to face the weirdo in his office. “Breaking and entering is still a crime. Pack to who because I’ve never seen him in Abarith before.” 

   “He smells like Artem’s Pack. He did say more members would be showing up as they got to work on the new Pack Houses.” 

   This does not make him happy. But, considering the new alliance, he has to be gentle. A strongly worded letter would be sent to Artem though to express his upset. Spinning around he tucked his hands behind his back. “King Hiroki Nakamura, the Twenty-Third King of Abarith. What is a Prince Consort?”

[sinner-as-saint]

soft like winter

Dark!Mob!Bucky x Reader (one-shot)

Run-through: You’re newly married to his father. Married - only on paper. The alliance was nothing but a mere convenient transaction between two crime families for the sake of fame, power and peace. Peace which Bucky is hellbent on disrupting. As his father’s only son and heir, and ever the spoilt prince he is, Bucky wants something he knows he shouldn’t have - you. 

Themes: smut, dark!bucky, possessive!bucky, taboo romance, no ‘mommy kink’ but bucky does call reader ‘mommy’ (x1) to taunt her, mentions of death and violence (not gory) 

“It’s late.” 

You spoke, coming down the ornate stairs and walking into the dimly lit, spacious living room where the only source of light was the huge fireplace. And not far from it sat Bucky on a sofa. In his all black suit, as always. Except right now, the jacket was carelessly thrown on the floor and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. 

You almost sighed just looking at him, and the complex feelings that followed. You don’t know what it was that told you to get out of bed and go check downstairs in the middle of the night. But now you were glad that you did because here Bucky was, drinking in silence in the middle of the night. 

“It’s three in the morning, Bucky.” 

The room was so quiet, and Bucky so still that it felt like you were talking to no one. The only movements were from the flames in the fireplace and the mechanical movement of Bucky’s arm as it occasionally brought his glass up to his lips. You could only see his side profile from where you stood, and he looked like he was in one of his broody moods. 

“Bucky, it’s-,” 

He finally spoke up, cutting you off. “Oh please, you’re barely a few years older than me, stop trying to be my mother.” He said in that bitter tone of his. 

You blinked, sighing because it was always like this. Each day for the past year, ever since you married his father, whenever you and Bucky saw each other it was always like this. 

“I’m not.” You clarified. “I just- it’s three in the morning and you’re drinking. How long have you been up? Did you just get home?” You asked, taking a step closer to him. None of the men in the house ever really told you what’s going on. 

Bucky’s dad stays away. You could count how many days he’s been home ever since he too was forced into marrying for the sake of so-called peace and power. And Bucky… well, he was as unpredictable as he was spoiled. So you never knew when he was home and when he wasn’t. 

“Is my father home?” Bucky asked instead of answering your questions. His tone was cool and dark. 

You almost scoffed. “You know he never is.” Then a pause. And you said, “It’s late bucky, go get some sleep.” 

This time he scoffed, and said, “Don’t tell me you care. You don’t have to pretend when no one’s around, you know? Now leave me alone and go play with the pretty things you buy yourself with our money.” 

His words used to hurt. But now it doesn’t. Growing up around the people that you did, you had grown a tough skin. And Bucky’s words came from a place of hurt rather than hatred and you knew it. 

So instead of raising your voice and defending yourself passionately, you just spoke softly, “I’m not pretending. And I do care. After all you are part of this family too, Bucky.” 

Bucky let out a chuckle. “Family,” he scoffed. Then he set the glass down, and got up from the sofa, stalking towards you. Silent and a look of determination and… hunger on his face. “I’m part of your new family, right?” He taunted, “And you wanna take care of me?” 

The sound of his voice was enough to get you to take some steps back. But not in fear, never in fear. “Bucky…” You whispered, shocking yourself with how softly and easily his name fell off your lips. 

He caged you between him and the wall you’d just found yourself pressing against. One hand pressed against the wall beside your head, Bucky leaned in. Close to you. Closer than a family member should. This was one of his power plays again, and you recognised it. You didn’t back down either, you stared right in his pretty blue eyes. Eyes that spoke volumes. 

“Well then,” He said, nuzzling your jaw as he reached down, grabbed your hand and guided it over to the very prominent bulge in his dark pants. He pressed your hand against it. The hard, warm flesh. “Can you take care of this?” He asked. 

You resisted the urge to squeeze him just a little. You did truly resist, but then you couldn’t. So you petted and gently squeezed him through his pants. Bucky made a sound which sounded a lot like a growl. 

Then his mouth was on yours. Kissing, biting, tugging on your lower lip. There was nothing gentle about him or the kiss. He tasted like expensive whiskey and smelt like an equally expensive male would. It was heady. He was heady. 

Then you mumbled against his kiss, “Bucky, we shouldn’t.” 

Bucky pulled away, smirking like the arrogant prince he is and kissed down your chin. Down your neck, making you squirm and shiver in his arms. You bit back a moan as he easily slid your satin robe off your shoulders, leaving you in just a cool, satin nightdress. 

He looked down at your satin covered body for a quick moment before he looked back up into your eyes like what you wore offended him. “Did you wear this for him? Hmm? Did you wear this in case he came home and wanted to fuck his young wife?” He asked dangerously with fire in his eyes, “Answer me.” He slid his fingers into your hair and tugged on it gently, “Did you?” 

“No.” You answered firmly. “It’s not like that between us and you know that.” Of course it wasn’t, Bucky’s father treated you like you were non-existent. Not that you minded. 

“Good.” Bucky looked down at your lips again and said, “Because you’re fucking mine.” And then kissed you again. Less harsh this time, but deeper. Then his mouth found its way down your neck again, until he wrapped his mouth around your clothed nipple and sucked. 

You couldn’t help but gasp and moan as his warm mouth wrapped around your flesh, wetting the fabric of your nightdress. Then he shifted to the other one, making you whine and squirm against him. Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently as he toyed with your breasts. 

And then he was kneeling, eagerly bunching up your nightdress so he could taste what he wanted the most, that wetness in between your legs. 

You groaned, “Bucky, we shouldn’t…” You protested again, gently and doing absolutely nothing to stop him. 

Bucky looked up at you and smirked, “What, now you don’t wanna care about me?” With that mischievous look in his eyes, you knew it was coming… “Well, I’m hungry mommy, won’t you let your boy eat? Hmm?”

You groaned again, that fluttery feeling back in your stomach. His eagerness made your body tingle. “Oh damn you…” 

And you let him. You let him taste you until he had his fill. You let him take one of your legs and put it over his shoulder which opened you up even more to his warm, eager mouth. To his tongue which slid in and out and up and down until you were almost crying in pleasure. 

He ate you out until you were trembling, until your arousal was dripping down his chin. And only after making you come more than once did he pull away. He looked up at you with a satisfied, lust-drunk look on his pretty face. His lips and chin were all wet and shiny even in the dimmed room. He looked proud of himself. 

You were still catching your breath as you cradled his face into your hands. And Bucky remained kneeling there, between your legs. There was so much you wanted to say to him. But all you said was, “Bucky… you know we can’t keep doing this.” Because of course it wasn’t the first time you two had fooled around like this. 

“Why not?” He asked like a brat. “Do you want me to tell daddy dearest that you’re not taking good care of me like you should?” He taunted again. 

“Bucky…” 

“What?” He asked, standing up. “Don’t you see it?” For the first time tonight, the mean and dangerous mask dropped and all that was left was a man wanting to be loved by the woman he knew he shouldn’t want. “Don’t you see how good we are together?” 

You tried to reason with him, even as he licked his lips and tasted the remaining taste of you left on his skin. “Someone might see. We have staff, you know? And they talk-” 

“I don’t care.” He said, meaning it. “You’re mine.” 

To which you said, sadly, “I’m not. You know I’m not.” 

“You will be.”  

And that was it. He walked away, all broody again. And you let him, sighing as you bent down to pick up your robe and wrapped it around you. You almost laughed dryly. What had your life come to? 

—

Over the next few days, you didn’t see Bucky at all. The house was quiet and you lived in it like a ghost, all alone in silence. You did have work and all, you helped in managing your family’s businesses but your heart wasn’t in it. Your heart was barely content unless Bucky was around. Quiet, spoilt and broody Bucky. 

You smiled at the thought of him. If only things could be a little different… 

– 

One morning you woke up and the house was a little noisier than usual. You could hear the staff moving about quicker and with purpose. 

You realised why when you got downstairs. Wishing you hadn’t because Bucky’s father was here for a quick visit before he flew off again. And that morning, Bucky and his father argued. 

Though you only heard part of it:

“Will you say something?” His father asked. And the silence that followed meant that Bucky was shamelessly ignoring him. “I am talking to you.” 

Bucky sighed and finally spoke up, “Fine, what do you want to know?” 

His father mumbled something, swear words if you had to guess then asked, “Have you been good? Or did you cause even more trouble around the city? Before I go I have to know whether I will have to stuff money in more mouths to keep them quiet. Because we all know you rarely ever behave in my absence.” 

Bucky chuckled. “You’re always absent. Why do you care?” 

“Because I don’t want you ruining my-,” 

Bucky cut his father off, “Hey, dad?” 

“What?” 

“Fuck you.” 

And that’s when it began. The shouting, both men yelling louder than the other. Someone may have punched the other too but you didn’t see it. You heard all that while hiding in a corridor and when the argument began, you ran back upstairs. 

–

You were in the shower when you felt him behind you. His hands wrapping around your body and pulling you back against his bare chest. He nuzzled the crook of your neck, kissing your skin. 

You sighed, leaning into his touch. “You’re gonna have us both killed.” You whispered to Bucky. 

He chuckled. “He left.” 

“I know.” 

This made him pull away to look at you. You turned in his arms and faced him properly, placing your hands on his shoulders. “You heard us fighting?” 

“I did. Then I ran back up before it got dirty.” You confessed. 

With all the steam in the hot shower, his body was extra warm as you pressed against him. Bucky pulled you closer, eyeing your body like he’s in the mood to play. 

“Did you know he was coming?” He asked, leaning in to kiss your neck. 

You almost laughed. “We don’t talk, Bucky. You know that.” 

“I know. I just like hearing you say it.” He said, moving his mouth back up over your lips. 

You almost told him that you shouldn’t do this, especially since his father was just here. What if he comes back? But then even you knew that you were just looking for excuses. So you stopped, and let it happen. 

Bucky pressed you up against the cold tiles of the shower, your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed you and muffled your moans while he pushed inside of you. You were moaning against his mouth as he filled you up, making you squirm and whine in his arms. 

Bucky fucked you slowly, savouring the moment while whispering his promises against your lips, “You’re all mine, you hear me? Mine alone. And he can’t have you. I won’t let him.” He spread your legs further apart, holding you up against the wall by the curve of your ass, and pushed deeper inside you. “Fuck, you feel like you were made for me.” 

Your mind was a foggy mess at that point so you could barely focus on anything other than how he moved in and out of your wet, tight hole. That fluttery feeling was back again. 

“Bucky…” You whined, breathing heavily as you rested your forehead against his throat and holding onto him for dear life as he fucked you faster and deeper. 

“Come for me,” he said, grunting and moaning as he sped up into you, feeling your walls clenching around him and gripping his cock. 

“Fuck…” You came around him with a quiet cry. He leaned in to kiss you roughly as he came right after you. 

“Mine.” He said again. 

—

“Dad’s gone.” Bucky said to you one morning, sounding distant and as he came to wake you up to give you the news that his father had passed. 

“How?” You asked, feeling no sadness at all because you barely knew the man you’d married. 

Bucky told you how. Apparently he was out on his yacht, partying and then went missing sometime during the night. Everyone on the boat was too high or too drunk to notice so they only realised he’d been missing when they saw his dead body floating somewhere near the boat. 

“Oh.” You’d said. But somewhere, something wasn’t adding up. But even then, you couldn’t bother to care. 

Not right away at least. 

Not until days later after the funeral was done and countless people came to offer their condolences. 

Only then did you really take the time to think about it. Not because you missed the man or anything. A twisted part of you was glad that he was out of your life and no longer tying you down to the marriage. 

You found yourself in your late husband’s study. His things were getting taken out, to be replaced by Bucky’s stuff. But none of the workers were here right now so that’s where you went to think. You looked out of the window, into the front yard. 

You were lost in your thoughts when Bucky walked in. Smirking as he asked, “Miss him?” 

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. There he stood, black suit as always. And a sly smirk on his face. You couldn’t help but point it out, “You look happy.” 

He walked over to you, “Careful there,” Even in his warning you could hear that teasing tone of his. 

“Did you do it?” You asked, keeping a calm and composed face on. “Did you finally do it just so you could replace him? I mean, you seem very eager to take over after him. I’m not sure you even mourned him properly.” You paused and gauged his reaction. He was weirdly calm. “So, did you do it? Did you finally kill him just to have what you want? To have all that was his?” You let out a dry chuckle, “Me included.” 

He reacted this time, coming closer and grabbing your chin so you couldn’t look away from him. “You were never his. You were never meant to be his. And as for the rest, well, we all knew all of this would be mine someday, sooner or later.” 

You noticed the way he avoided your accusations. “Bucky…” You shivered under his stare. Not because he scared you, but because his eyes had never been this intense before. You felt like they could see through you. Read all your innermost secrets. Read all about how you wanted him so badly it hurt. 

Bucky leaned in closer, rubbing this thumb over your chin gently, “I’ve got you now. And you’re mine.” He whispered, before he pressed his mouth to yours. 

You melted immediately. Sliding your hands up his chest and into his hair as you kissed him back with just as much passion as he kissed you. His mouth moving against yours like he was throwing a tantrum. 

As he walked the two of you towards the desk, you mumbled against his lips, “You’re so bad for me.” 

Bucky smirked into the kiss, “Well, too late now.” He pushed you onto the table, stepping in between your legs already. As always, he was impatient so your underwear came off of you immediately, and in pieces because he ripped it. 

Bucky leaned in to kiss you again, as his hand reached in between your legs to play with your wet folds. He smiled into the kiss upon finding you already wet for him. Sliding a finger, then another inside of you, Bucky stroked your walls gently, preparing you for more. 

You clenched around his fingers, moaning wantonly into the kiss as he finger-fucked you, making you whine in need and desperation. You tangled your fingers into his hair and kissed him deeper as he made you come all over his fingers. 

“That’s my good girl,” He whispered, removing his fingers and shoving them into your mouth. “Now clean them.” He said, watching how you sucked on his drenched fingers. His eyes now darker and hooded. 

He couldn’t wait anymore. He unzipped his pants and took his cock out, looking deep into your eyes as he did. He watched how the sound of his zipper made you shiver with lust and desire. He smirked, watching you as you looked down to where he lazily stroked himself. 

Lips parted, heart pounding, you watched him play with himself like you were starving for it. Which you were. 

“You want it?” He asked, teasing you with an ever slower stroke. 

You whined at the way his big hand moved up and down his erected cock. You squirmed, trying to scoot closer to him, “Please…” 

“Tell me you’re mine first,” He demanded. 

You would give him whatever he wanted in that moment, so reassuring him was no difficult task. You fisted the fabric of his shirt and looked up at him, pleading, “I’m yours, Bucky. I’ve always been yours. Now please, just… fuck me, please,” You begged. 

He just smirked in triumph, “All mine,” He said, sliding his cock into you finally. You wrapped your legs around him and welcomed him inside you. And fuck, he felt good. “All mine, you understand?” 

You nodded, whining as he began moving in and out of you so perfectly that it felt like you were losing your mind. 

“I’ll fuck you whenever I want now,” he whispered, pounding into you relentlessly, “Even right here, in what used to be his study because it’s mine now. Like you are. And like everything is,” He said. 

His possessive tone only lit your body on fire even more. 

“I’m the man of the house now, and you will be my woman. You hear me? All mine.” He said, fucking deeper into you like he truly did own you. He bent down to kiss your open mouth, swallowing all your moans and whines in the process. 

His mouth, his taste, his scent. The way his strong body moved to bring you pleasure like only he could. It was all that existed in that moment. The rest of the world was not here. Just him. All of him. 

You could only gasp and moan, unable to form coherent sentences while he pounded into you like he owned you. Your entire body tingled. The pressure between your legs was getting hotter, tighter, and it would snap at any moment now. 

Then Bucky pulled away just a little, looking down to where your body swallowed his cock each time he thrust in and pulled out. “Look,” he said and you followed his eyes, letting out an even louder moan when you did. “I’m fucking my woman, do you see it?” He purposely slowed down his thrust just so you could see. 

You nodded, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “Please,” You begged, “Please, can I come?” 

He smirked and sped up into you again, “Wait for me, baby. Just a little more,” He sounded all growly again and it only made you clench around him even tighter. 

Hearing you moan and squirm under him only encouraged him to thrust deeper and faster into you. He was relentless as his body moved perfectly against yours.

A tear fell from your eye, out of pleasure. He was quick to wipe it away as he bent down and kissed your lips again, pounding into you rapidly. “Come for me now,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice strained and raspy. 

And that was all you needed. You cried out as you came around him, the pressure finally exploding and a familiar warmth washed over you. You felt Bucky come as well, his cock throbbing against your walls as he came with a grunt, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise your skin surely. 

Your mind was a little foggy from there on, but you know that you and Bucky made your way back to your bedroom and fucked again. And again after a while. 

Then he just held you, in his warm embrace in the dimly lit room. 

–

Bucky  looked down to where you nuzzled the crook of his neck, gently biting, tasting and kissing his skin, running your hand lazily all over his naked torso. He smiled, looking up at the ceiling and feeling like a King with you in his arms. Finally. 

He pressed a kiss on your forehead, which made you let out a moan which sounded a lot like a kitten purring in bliss while laying in the sun. Then he asked, “Did you eat today?” 

You shook your head, rubbing your face against his chest in the process, “I haven’t had the time.” You answered quietly. 

He huffed, “Well, we can’t have that. Come, I’ll make you something.” He sat up, getting out of bed to right his clothes, zipping his pants and finding his shirt somewhere on the ground and putting it on. 

You smirked, “Shouldn’t it be the other way around? You know, man of the house and all?” You asked, teasing him. 

Bucky dragged you to the edge of the bed by your ankles and you squealed as you went. He pulled you up and wrapped his arms around you as you stood there, hugging one another by the bed you’d just fucked in. 

“I’m gonna take care of you now. Let me.” He whispered against your forehead. 

You took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of his cologne and his skin. “Okay.” You whispered, melting against his touch. 

Bucky smiled against your skin, wrapped his arms tighter around you and thought about your previous conversation in the study. Now, his study. 

‘So, did you do it? Did you finally kill him just to have what you want? To have all that was his?’

He almost scoffed at the memory of your accusation. 

Like it was even a question. 

Of course he did. 

[promotional-dvd]

Why Aaron Hotchner Is The Perfect Dilf

Some may say my statement is bold because men like Chris Evans, Henry Cavill and Jon Bernthal exist, but I say Aaron Hotchner beats them all in terms of looks, personality and overall dilfiness. There is a certain criteria you need to fulfil in order to be considered a dilf. You must be:

Aged between 37-65 (anything older is a Gilf)

Dress for their age - e.g cable knit sweaters, polo shirts and clothes fathers/older men often wear

Needs wrinkles

Have a seemingly mean, intimidating or grumpy exterior but be cuddly and warm 

They must partake in some kind of old man activity such as Golf or Tennis

They need children or at least be aiming to have kids in the future

I'd like to start by discussing Hotch’s appearance. He's 6’2 with black hair and has a fairly muscular build but not overly muscular more so bordering on a dad bod. All of these elements combine to create a dream. I would like to draw attention to his eyebrows. As stated in the criteria, having a seemingly intimidating presence is very important and Aaron Hotchner does it so well. His eyebrows fully create the desired look and appeal with how they are constantly furrowed in anger and how his face rarely changes from its grumpy state. Furthermore, his deep voice strengthens the intimidation as in 95% of all dangerous situations he's in he remains calm which can cause the people around him to feel small and weak and pathetic. Hotch also wears a suit a majority of the time which creates a sense of professionalism and superiority. However, he fulfils this point on the criteria due to his sentimental and cuddly nature he keeps behind his serious and dark persona. We are most often shown it when he's with his son Jack. He is shown to be one of the most caring members of the team and is constantly looking out for everyone and looking hot while doing it. He also keeps and maintains his body hair which gives him an extra dose of dad bodness.

Thomas Gibson was 43 when Criminal Minds began and was 53 when he eventually left the show in season 12. These ages are peak dilf and we get to experience all of them throughout the long running crime show. As the show goes on he develops more wrinkles around his eyes and forehead where the best dilfs possess them. 

In one episode, he returns with a beard and let me tell you, it is the most amazing and sexy thing I have ever witnessed. His dilfiness went through the roof and I couldn't believe it. It felt like heaven. His dress sense also fits perfectly into the criteria and throughout the show he wears many dilfy outfits. He most often wears a black fleece shirt/jacket or a polo shirt of varying colours. These items of clothing accentuate his dilfiness as they are common items amongst older men and create a sense of comfort and relaxation. Sometimes he wears a dress shirt with 1-3 buttons undone when solving cases in a hot climate which makes him that much more attractive. Also, he wears tan pants on many occasions which cement his dilfiness as they are a crime to fashion and old men do not care about looks only about comfort. The underwear that he wears also shows his age as they are loose blue striped boxers which in the media are commonly shown on old men with younger men leaning towards tight fitting Calvin Klein boxers or briefs. 

As previously mentioned, Hotch is a single father to his son Jack after his ex-wife haley was murdered in season 5 episode 9 by the Reaper, a serial killer Aaron had been tracking for years. Being a single father increases an individual's dilfiness tenfold as it shows he is capable and smart and makes him an official Dilf as he is actually father. Looking deeper into Hotch's personal life, his favourite band is the Beatles of which Rossi rightly mocks him for. Typically, only old men and gay people like the Beatles.

In conclusion, Aaron Hotchner is the most perfectly written Dilf to have ever graced my eyes. He has the looks and the personality that align perfectly with the Dilf criteria and it makes me insane. So Aaron Hotchner is the perfect man and you can argue with the wall. Thanks and Bye.

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

I've gotta ask, obviously Marcus Pike is a dom no matter how you slice it, varying degrees, but still kinky in every version of him in every universe you've created him. Have you ever considered him being with a partner in a capacity that intended to be no strings attached, or even in a more formal kink setting like a bdsm club and finding his perfect match there? I'd love to know what versions of him you've imagined even if it's versions we haven't seen. You write him with so much heart and I just can't get enough. I will pay for crumbs of your Marcus content even the most fleeting or passing thought about him. Thank you for writing!

Oh wow, anon. I was trying to implement a "No new Marcus Pike ideas" rule for me so I'd be forced to branch out a little and then I read This Ask. I got this right before a 1 hour car ride so basically I had this idea rattling around in my brain for an HOUR and it's very possible there will be a fic of this at a later date but for the time being please imagine the following:

My first thought was that Marcus is asked to go undercover as a dom at a BDSM club for [insert Art Crimes reason here].

He plays dumb for the benefit of his colleagues but the truth is, he's intimately familiar with the concept. He used to go back in grad school, after all. It’s been a long time, but its not like those preferences... go away

He decides to go for the full "daddy dom" look and wears his suit (sans jacket) with his sleeves rolled up and too many buttons undone😏 and the effect is just 🤌🤌🤌

He's trying to just lay low and get the arrest (even though he's ITCHING to be involved and his brain is like 'hnnnnggg') but somehow he gets roped into doing a scene.

At first the sub he's paired with is like "haha nah" because of course Marcus looks SOFF(tm) and she's like "I need a dom who can make me cry and I am VERY hard to make cry."

(Most doms upon hearing this will go straight to heavy degradation and humiliation and generally that just pisses her off and does NOT make her cry)

But YOU KNOW that's not how Marcus rolls. Instead he fucking obliterates her with his belt, all the while whispering little praises and teases in her ear, telling her how perfect she is, how much he loves doing this to her, telling her he's not gonna stop until she's a crying mess, so she's gonna be a good girl for him, right?

He's like stroking her cheek so gently with one hand and causing exquisite pain with the other and it's so overwhelming that he DOES make her cry (and come)

Marcus KING OF AFTERCARE Pike dedicates an excessive amount of time tending to her afterwards and just talking to her softly and making sure she's okay

afterwards she's like WHAT THE ABSOLUTE SHIT and is understandably affected and has a lil crush and Marcus is also like "oh wow that's right I REALLY fucking like doing that" and he's super taken with her too, but...

He's got a case to focus on. And finally at the end of the night he's able to make an arrest and his sub from before sees and understandably feels lied to, and like ~angst~ happens and he convinces her it was DEFINITELY real for him. 💕

[blue-broken-heart]

19+The Feast of Scared Hearts- Yuta Nakamoto X Fem Reader 19+

L14R <-AO3 account

Requests:

Normal: https://blue-broken-heart.tumblr.com/ask

Anon: https://blue-broken-heart.tumblr.com/submit

Summary:

Yuta is a well loved priest in the village with a dark secret. You are a nun who notices the pattern of him leaving and coming back late at night...content to find out why without asking, he always seems to walk you back to your quarters.

Notes:

WARNING: Religious content used to set the scene! Religion is not being forced or pushed onto the reader. !IT IS SIMPLY A SCENARIO! The choice of religious beliefs fall to the reader.

TW: Blood drinking, Sexual Content, Murder, Heart eating, forest sex? Angst, Cursing

think this Yuta

Serial Killer Priest Yuta x Nun reader

!This Is A Work Of Fiction!

!This Is A Work Of Fiction!

!This Is A Work Of Fiction!

!This Is A Work Of Fiction!

The air grows cool and dark, The Rhine flows calmly on; the mountain summit sparkles in the light of the setting sun. Paris was beautiful as she looked down. The city’s glittering lights as soldiers marched patrolling the streets for any remaining traces of the prior opioid dealings.

A few days later, the assembly transferred the seat of government from Bordeaux to Versailles. Immediately after, it was confronted by a major civil war—the rebellion of the Commune of Paris. The event was complex in its entirety which drew fog around it by the myths that stemmed from.

The church held its place on a high mountain away from the chaos of the ground. Nestled in a branch of the towering butte montmartre. It’s name coined the mountain of the Martyr quite some months after he died.

A young novitiate, unable to sleep, was thinking about him, she roamed the church grounds anxiously. Hiding behind a stone wall as she caught sight of him sneaking back onto the compound. A well like priest, all because his presence felt like that of an angel. Gracing everyone with his all to humble presence.

He scurried in against the cold winds biting at his skin, tinting it with an ever so slight crimson. How odd. His dark brown hair shone under the moon matted to his head. He wasn’t in his robes. Where’d he go?

To meet his rumoured lover? Of course rumours about this man climbing the mountain flew around like wildfire but no-one dared to ask. He often snuck out at night dressed like a man of the world and came back in the wee hours before the sun kissed the earth. He was a mystery to many in the church.

She panicked looking back and not seeing him. Did he slip? Did he see her? Standing out of her hiding spot she looked around worried. She really didn’t want to be a witness to a crime. No matter how accidental it may have been.

“ Pleasure to see you under this night’s gallant moon sister ,” A voice kissed her ear. She almost screamed, grabbing at her rosary as the larger hand of the silent figure drew her mute. Looking back at the figure of Yuta Nakamoto.

“F-father,” She let out a heavy breath of air. Glancing at his high banded trousers and loosened waist coat. His delicately embroidered shirt undone a few too many buttons to be called modest. His skin piqued her interest. Little red stains perhaps?

Watching shyly as he adjusted his shirt to cover his chest. She cleared her throat to break the atmosphere, “Where have you been? It’s awfully cold out.”

“In dark ages, people are best guided by religion, as in a pitch black night a blind man is the best guide; he knows the roads and paths better than a man who can see.” Yuta spoke, his shirt buttoned again. Totally throwing her curiosity off with his words.

“I- Yes that is true,” She smiled, “Glory be to God in the highest.”

“Would you accompany me inside, Sister?” Yuta asked. That oh so warm voice coaxing the sleep to her eyes, dragging a yawn from her lips. He laughed lightly. The melodious sound drew parallels to the triumphs of holy beings rejoicing the miracle of a long silent God.

“If you’ll have me father,” She smiled. An eerie chill caressing her neck as she took a small stride at his side. A heavy waft of alcohol hitting her and a metallic smell that was all too familiar once a month.

“Something on your mind?” Yuta asked. He was too pleasant….perfect almost.

“Sleep….sleep is good,” She stifled another yawn,

“Death is better; but of course the best would have been to never been born at all.” Yuta coo’ed a dark sense in his voice as he spoke just below a whisper for her to hear alone.

“How- how could you say that?” She gasped, hitting his arm, “A life…a soul is a gift directly from the heavens!” A wet substance on her palm as Yuta flinched at the contact.

“It was but a thought, Sister,” Yuta laughed, stopping beside the door to her quarters, “Enjoy your rest now sister, you wouldn’t want anything to go bump in the night.”

“Nothing can harm me, I’m protected under the blood of the lamb,” She said softly. It was odd how he lingered a little longer at her door. Why?

Maybe to make sure she’d settled but why would he? He was neither a lover…nor family.

“G-Good Night father!” She called from beside the closed door. It wooden body shielding her from the piercing gaze the chilled her.

“Good Night,” He replied, still too close for her liking. Waiting for his footsteps against the cobbler floor to dissolve into the air, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Lifting a hand to her forehead to brush away some stray hairs…

Blood freezing as she looked back to the wet chill on her palm. A dark almost black liquid reflected the flickering of the oil lamp by her bedside. She wasn’t hurt. Wher- Yuta’s arm.

Maybe he really did go out to see his lover. She thought of wiping off her hand and dropping onto the simple stone slab. To wine and dine the person who he tried to defy authority to be with?

Yuta’s nightly expeditions were a mystery, but even more so his life. Only you could tell that he didn’t want to be here. To others he seemed made for this life. He was perfect.

__________________________________________

She didn’t see him again for a few days. Small glimpses at mass and meeting some people after. That is until while weeding the front yard with some others she ended up alone at the back of the church. An area where not many went to as it was dark and gloomy.

Straying from their talks of missing persons and the idle idea of a planned killer. The meaningless talk drew nothing but small laughs and little prayer for protection. Many of the ‘missing’ people must have ran off to find a better life or even been at home and became subject of such brutal rumours, the well fed would construct to drag others down.

Yet when she couldn’t sleep she’d carefully tread the fluff grass and jagged stones to sit under a shaded tree. The gorgeous view gave at an overlook of the country below them.

“Why do I keep feeling this..thinking about him?” She spoke softly at the chill in her stomach, an icky feeling. The odd chill she hated as she sat down. Idly ppucking the tall blades of weeds from the lush ground.

___________________________________________________________

Hidden behind a small shed that was so old even for her to venture into it. Gazing at the flowers, its small white petals swaying in the breeze was a dream. She lost track of time.

“Silence is an essential condition to happiness with you, I presume?” That voice again. It had her shivering as he spoke.

“Father? Pleasure running into you,” She lied through gritted teeth. Dropping the little daisy she's been holding, “Why are you out here?”

“I could ask the same of you, Sister____+” He smiled, dropping to sit near to her. Toned legs peeking out clothed in black garments.

“Weeding the yard,” She said, shifting a bit away. As he leaned back basking in the sun’s rays. Her eyes hit his arms immediately. He wasn’t injured. Why’d it have been covered in blood.

“A little too behind on that aren’t you?” He said, tilting his head to her. Looking through his fluttered lashes, “But I don’t mind.”

“Should you be leaning on your injury, Father?” She asked. Curious to hear his lie.

“Injury? I’m not-” Yuta cut himself short looking at her.

“Aren’t you though…father…the amount on my hand that night wasn’t light,” She prodded. What was his secret

“Would you really like to know?” Yuta asked, sitting up. Facing the nervous nun at his side.

“Yes, father,” She nodded. Heart pounding against her ribs, no one dared to ask him this…yet he was willing to tell her…this is strange...extremely strange.

“First you have to tell me why you keep showing up in front of me at night,” Yuta asked. He sounded as though he were joking but she could tell it was a weighted question.

“I can’t sleep at night…extra ‘energy’ as they call it.” She said, squeezing her hand under her thigh. Why’d she say it like that?

“I guess you’d need somewhere to burn it out?” He spoke smoothly. Unusually he’d never spoken like that before.

“Yeah…but I already do so much I can…guess I’ll have to figure it out,” She muttered. Yuta’s hand placed itself on her upper thigh. Wide eyed, she looked up at him.

“I can help,” Yuta muttered taking her hand to her thigh, “If you’d let me show you.”

“D-do I have a choice?” She asked, afraid of him being so close yet curious to know where it’d go.

“You always have a choice,” Yuta said leaning to her ear to whisper, “And this one is to experience heaven.”

Sweet May hath come to love us, Flowers and trees in their blossoms don; And through the blue heavens above us. The very clouds move on.

The chill leaves tumble, Frost kissing warm skin, A heated Hell’s called below’s rumble, Tantalized with sin.

“I-,” she quickly silenced herself as his other hand moved up her skirt. Kneeling in front of her pushing her to lean on the tree as he spread her legs, “What are you-Father you can’t-”

“Shhh~” Yuta mused a dark look overtaking his rich eyes. His brown eyes looked black under the sun as he looked down on her, “Give me your trust.”

“Mmmh,” She nodded, watching as the priest slipped his finger on the waistband of her panty. The high waisted fabric took less time than expected to slide down her legs. Exposing her to the nipping wind.

“S-stop,” She mumbled, somehow liking the feeling. Looking at the dark priest as he licked his lips.

“Do you always get like this around me?” He asked, brushing her lightly with his fingers. Watching as she quivered under his touch, wet pulsing out of her.

“N-no…I don’t l-” She stuttered, as his fingers grazed past her folds, pushing into her cunt, “S-sssss,”

“Don’t worry, Sister,” Yuta moved closer, lifting her legs over his, revealing a glinting hilt under his robe, strapped to his thigh.

She couldn’t ask him about it as his fingers circled her, slowly as his arm flexed as she turned, her stomach twitched along with her breath becoming laboured.

“I-Father stop please,” She begged tears prickling at her eyes as she lashed out at him. Striking him around his eyebrow. Her nails tearing open his skin as she did.

He forced her to the ground, towering above her as blood trickled down his face, “Why?” He mused. Leaning to her ear. Kissing small trails over her jaw.

“It hurts- a-and I’m- I don’t like….(you),” Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Instead moving her hand down to where he’d been touching, feeling the slick on her fingers, “This is how you make me feel?”

Reaching up and dragging him into a kiss, his blood tinged lips tasted sweet as his hands shuffled around his hips. Lips moulding against hers in a rushed passion. A temporary moment of ecstasy as she moaned against him.

“I’m p-putting it in,” Yuta said abruptly as she jolted at the feeling of a throbbing heat between her legs.

“What?” She looked down to see Yuta’s cock braced against her cunt. Slowly rubbing against her, “Good gods, that sends fire on my skin.”

“Really?” Yuta muttered as he helped her adjust her hips against his, “ It’ll feel even better when you’re dea -done-”

“What?” Her eyes flew open, hands moving to his thigh where the blade was hidden. Instead clutching his robe when her body flew up. A hot long cock thrusted into her.

“Hell you feel good,” Yuta moaned into her ear. As she gripped his habit until her knuckles turned white. He panted into her ear kissing her shoulder, as he moved.

“ Fucking good, take it like it yours, ” He moaned catching her off guard, “ Covered in my blood-fuck, ”

“What?!” She said a small scream as he dug into her thigh.

“ I said ,” He looked down at her, her wimple slipping off her hair as she braced against the floor, “ You look even better covered in blood .”

“Th-that’s not allowed,” She breathed, grabbing to hold her wimple from falling off. Gaining a small dizziness from him turning her to sit on his lap.

“ Would you like to see it? ” He panted as her hips found the rhythm. Bouncing on him as he bit down on his lip, hands reaching for his buttons.

“W-why- are you taking that off?” She moaned, the cold wind blowing hard against her ear. Uncaring as their bodies kept them warm with the other. Eyes widening as he took the beautiful sacrificial blade from his thigh, grabbing her hand, “D-dOn’t!”

“ Shhhh ,” He scowled, squeezing her wrist as he drew the blade against it. Dragging the pretty shade of lust from her forearm. Immediately stopping riding him she clutched her arm.

“What did you do!?” She yelled, voice lost to the wind. Watching as he broke her clutch and bore her arm aside, “Stop IT!”

Heart stopping as his lips drew against the wound. Saliva stinging as he licked up the small slit. Moaning as his lips and jaw were painted in life. Something about the hot, mysterious priest under her, lapping up blood from her arm was erotic. She felt her body tense, and Yuta groaned out, “ Do it again~ ”

Sucking blood from her arm as his other hand rubbed her waist. Thrusting into her roughly as he came close.

“ Look at me~ ” Yuta panted, moving his hand from her waist to her jaw. Clutching her attention onto him, “ Look at me while I full that tight c*nt with me. ”

Whimpering under his rough clutch, fingernails digging into her face as he broke, pushing deep into her. As she arched unknowingly clenching him as he relieved himself.

Full lips parting under the overhead bright sun, as its rays kissed their skin through the tree's leaves. Her heart was tight…afraid of what she’d just done. Breath ragged from the desire to feel that again. Mind muddled from trying to unie how her little questions lead to this sin.

“F-father?” She heaved, head dropped against his chest as he went limp, “W-why-when again?”

“ Again? ” Yuta laughed, “ You’re fucking nasty for a woman married to God. ”

“I-,” She moaned out. Unable to process this side of him. Was this why he left the church at night? To meet his lover? Or maybe prostitutes?

“ And here you are outside his house fucking riding one of his servants taking my cock like a painted whore ,” Yuta cursed the blade in his hand drawing up your thigh, and stomach as he spoke, “ Making me your first? Giving me your life. ”

“I-Wait!” She yelled again as his hands wrapped itself in her hair, tugging it back as his blade pressed into her throat, “Don’t kill me please~”

“ Why’d you think I’d kill you? ” Yuta asked, tapping the blade against her neck. A cold smile on his lips, “ Maybe I want to keep you in fear? Tittering around me during the day then eating my cock at night to get rid of the ‘extra energy?’ you called it? ”

“W-who are you!” She screamed against him. Feeling the urge to kiss his sweat ridden olive skin.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Yuta tutted, “ No so loud. You don’t want your holy mother to come out and see you like this, do you? ”

“Mmmf~” She hung her head as he rolled his hips in her, dick rubbing a little sweet spot, “I-I know that you go out every night and come back drenched in blood….who’s?”

“ You want to know? ” Yuta asked as the petrified nun planted her foot flat between his arms. Bouncing on his cock as she struggled to hold her skirt back. Her cheeks were flushed, as tears leaked down her face, “ You really want to know? ”

She nodded, pushing his knife away, dragging his hand to her wet pussy again, “Later.”

“Later?” Yuta grunted pulling her head back more as he rubbed her clit. Watching as she coated him in her arousal. Almost sucking him back into her velvety walls to mark her. To claim her…to satisfy her.

“Mmmmh,” She moaned, “F-fas-faster.”

“ Like this ?” Yuta asked, turning his forearm to the sky, flicking the woman, hard with his unkempt nails, “ want to feel me deep inside you…Want me to fill you and cum deep .”

So disarrayed she couldn’t respond, until he hit her, “ I asked you a fucking question. Answer.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Now I want more now~” She screamed into the air as he used a heavy hit against her arousal. Bloodied arm moving to cover it in shock.

“Fuck Yeah–like that…you wanna cum on my cock? You wanna fuck me through your blood and cum don’t you? Fucking nasty freak~ ” Yuta moaned letting her hair go to rub the blood into her.

Watching as their pelvises quickly turned red, mixing with his spilling seed and her slick as it slapped between them. As he caught sight of her riding him as she coated him in a heavy cream. Grabbing his hair back and clenching tight as milked his cum from him.

Oh! how they loved dearly; their souls kissed, they kissed with their eyes, they were both but one single kiss.

Habit dropping as she kept her head tilted panting for air frozen in time.

“Ahhh fuck,” Yuta groaned harshly pushing her off him, “Look at the fucking mess you made.”

“I-I wasn’t alone in that,” She panted, the side of her face pressed into the grass, laying flat, and feeling bruised.

“ And you feel proud enough to speak back to me? ” Yuta growled almost, stretching his hips and back a little.

“You felt sure enough to take me in the open,” She snapped back, “I’m sorry.” She said realizing she wasn’t keeping her temper in check.

“Oh?” Yuta mused, the harsh look on his face strangled and he bent over and sized her jaw. Forcing her to stand on shaky legs, “Why did you end up in the church?”

“It was my fathers choice, to keep me from the hand of men like you,” She scowled.

“What a horrid choice,” He smirked, “Now ____+, You’re mine.”

“Never!” She struggled as he dragged her across to the old shed. The closer they got the more well kept it became. It wasn’t odd or run down….just over run by vining. Its high stone walls stood the weathering and held its dirty secret inside well hidden and ventilated.

Pushing open the door with his back, Yuta shoved her into the room. Watching as she stumbled on the uneven earth floor that drank the blood of many sinners. Gaining her footing as she grasped a stone ledge of a sacrificial altar looking up to the foul smell right in front of her.

The familiar face with his wrists slit and bleeding into buckets at its sides. Mouth bound and gagged, his eyes pried out and hollowed with burns that showed a struggle. Screaming as she pushed back. Falling into the arms of the priest.

Struggling in the arms of the assaulter, warning bells cast the shadow of death of temptation onto the trembling sinner; fear of God falling out of her mouth, so vast that she chose to hide. Burying her face in his chest. Disdain for her curious nature as she began crying.

The weather-cock on the church spire, though made of iron, would soon be broken by the impending storms-wind if it did not understand its noble art of turning. Similar to _____+ in this moment, her heart resembled an ocean; has storm, and ebb and flow; with many a beautiful pearls lies hid in depths below.

The tear of the ocean Yuta found was brightly shining and salted with fear. As he coo’ed into her ear, “Don’t worry, Sister____+. It’s okay.”

Those constant words over and over…so commonplace for him to say, yet the dark meaning he’d hidden.

“H-how many?” She stumbled out.

“Depends, how many do you know of?” Yuta said, releasing her, gracefully moving into the room to retrieve a flesh bound book, its pages hastily bound and written on.

“Why?” The only question she could think of.

“To cleanse our world. Did you know? So many of those ‘perfect beings’ are broken, flawed and cruel. They were made in the most high’s image and likeness…yet they run around starting wars and killing each other because of what? Greed? Love? Money?” Yuta spoke, getting angrier as he dictated his feelings, “Sister it’s just-nothing. I couldn’t just let them be. As a man of God I had to create his perfect world. I had to become the cleanser of this world.”

“You can’t t-that’s what makes us -perfect- w-we grow and a-ade-adapt to adversaries,” She struggled. His words made too much sense to her, his reasoning was so unflawed, so logical. This was the shocking thing.

Yuta was often so poignant to resolve ones distress, for all his energy in life was something turned out to be hellish and inorganic. The most shocking of all was this slime of the pit that seemed to be a little piece of hell right here on earth behind the church, hidden away in the mountain. Standing in there as Yuta spoke the nun felt as though she could hear the cries of desperation from the amorphous dust gesticulating and sinned; of that who is dead.

Had no shape and held insurgent horror to knit the nun closer to this twisted priest…to keep her closer than a wife…closer than an eye… closer than his soul, Or part thereof.

____________________________________________________________________________

He’d keep her prisoner in her own, caged in her flesh, where he felt her deep, and muttered her desire struggling against him to give life to her lust. She’d feel his gaze at every hour of strength or weakness, in the bosom of slumber and she would sink her head to him, giving her life to him at every beck and call. Knowing how he'd sunk his dentals into the dripping organ that pumped a lowly sinner life. Claiming it divine. Claiming it to be the will of the Gods. Bathed in red soo after. Loving her in their life staining her skin crimson making her sink into the guilt that he should have, but didn't.

Her hatred born of him was different. It was born of terror of the gallows that he dwelled and drove him to madness. Drowned in the blood of sinners who’d confide in him during noon, fall for him in the evening and love him by night. The insatiable loathsome that bound him to earth was unparalleled at the time. As he’d sink his teeth into the unclean; woman or man, who’d threaded lightly on the word of his master. Relish in their blood and discard the perfect murders in a passionate cups, dragging his guilt into the arms of that curious nun.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Open up,” Yuta knocked at her window. Angry against the cold that bit at his wounds, “Fuck! Sister, open the fucking window!” Yuta shouted teeth chattering against the sudden flurries of snow that dropped from the sky.

Jolting awake she gasped below her pillow. He was back….who was it this time?

“I-I’m coming,” She stumbled, struggling to tie the nightgown around her waist as he banged on the window. Sure to be passed off by the others as the wind. Glancing back at the little blade hidden in her room....Would tonight be the night?

Swinging open the tightly locked wooden blockage, she grasped his hand as he climbed up into her room. Just like the last night she was curious about his late night expeditions, his embroidered shirt was undone to immodest depths. Waistcoat slack, and pants clinging to his skin.

“Get in quickly,” She complained, reaching down for his bag, as Yuta’s teeth chatter behind her, the cobbler floor providing no heat. Shutting the window quickly, blowing into her hands trying to warm them up. As she looked at Yuta shivering.

The distaste for him was strong but she couldn’t sink to his level. Lighting her oil lamp and moving to heat water for him, “Do you always have to swear at me?”

“I-i-I was panicking,” He shivered moving closer to her. Where it was warm.

“Don’t touch me!” She pulled away from him, “I can’t get blood on this gown.”

“P-P-please?” He said lips almost blue. Stirring her heart, the tall man was nothing to her but alast still human.

“Strip,” She said undoing his shirt, causing a large grin to break out.

“Never thought you’d be giving me orders,” He giggled. Moving him to sit on a little stool. She knelt next to him, dipping a cloth into the pot of warm water.

“Never,” She whispered, wringing it before wiping his skin, “Never.”

“What would I do without you on nights like this?” He mused, locking her into a short kiss. As she pulled back to clean the cloth.

“Die,” She replied blankly. Yuta laughed. Humming quietly as he let her work.

__________________________________________________________________________________

“You know…a few months back I’d never guessed the little peeping nun would be holding me like this,” Yuta mused, listening to her heartbeat, cuddled into her.

“Peeping? I’ve never peeped at you,” She frowned. She hated him so much now, but at the moment she was thankful for his body heat. It was the coldest night of the year or so it was projected.

“Did you really think I didn’t see you hiding behind the west side pillar all those nights?” he teased, running his hand down her body and up again.

“I didn’t hide from you…I was- I panicked okay?” She scoffed, “You were perfect, you were light walking in the church, but you were shrouded in darkness….what was I supposed to do?”

“Were?” Yuta questioned.

“Are….I mean…It’s cold,” She changed the topic. Moving to hug him. Wrapping her legs around his waist for him to lay flat, “The bed is small…and I’m cold…you’re warm…and I just want to sleep.”

“Mmmmh,” He nodded, pulling the animal skin blanket over the both of you, “Hey what happen if they find out about us?”

“What about us?” She muttered.

“If I don’t get up in time and someone comes in and sees us like this?” Yuta mused, his voice hushed and resonating in his chest. Referring to the person on duty who would make sure everyone was breathing, well it was more of a wake up call since the cold weather made everyone need more sleep.

“I don’t know, they’ll put me in a chilace? Maybe burn me at a stake? Stone me in the town centre?” She listed the normal way for women to be punished, “I am laying with an unmarried man…and he isn’t going to wed me.”

“Hmm,” Yuta nodded, “Can you handle that?”

“I don’t know….I’d be bleeding everywhere visible, crying cause it’ll hurt… I’d be turned away from home…the church…maybe have to flee the country if I make it that far.” She said, clinging closer to him.

“Fuck,” Yuta muttered holding his breath. It didn’t work…she felt the strain against his trousers, below his stomach as she moved to sit up.

“Really?”

“Not my fault an unwedded woman is rubbing me so tightly,” He smirked, running his hands on her waist, “Just a little?”

“Of course,” She smiled down at him. Pulling him to sit up as she kissed him. Hands training down his frim chest, strong waist and finally to his buckled hips, “Move back,” She breathed against his lips.

“I’m on the wall,” Yuta muttered, keeping his voice down.

Watching as she pushed the blanket to the floor and sat below his thighs, undoing the tie of her night gown. Exposing her naked body to him, “Are you sure? It’s really cold out…?"

“Shut up,” She muttered, leaning forward to kiss his tip. A heavy salt taste staining her tongue as she teased him until he was leaking, “ready?”

“Yeah,” Yuta moaned, “it’s nice for you to take the lead.”

“Well, it’s nice to be able to,” She smirked, mounting him, “Slow.”

“Fuck-” Yuta moaned as she moved lightly. Up and down feeling every bit of him, “How are you always so fucking t-tight?”

“Mmmnn,” She shrugged biting her lips as Yuta’s breath got heavier, “Can I ask about the lover who got you sent here?”

“What about him?” Yuta moaned, biting his inner cheek.

“W-who was he?” She asked, “From what you’ve told me…you were from a wealthy family…so who?”

“DongHyuk Yi’s husband,” Yuta moaned.

“The Yi family? You crossed the Yi family? Aren’t they all dea-Ohhh~” She moaned, reaziling as she hit her spot.

“Right therE?” Yuta asked, as she settled for a moment, thrusting into her, “Here you are sweetheart,”

“Gods~ Don’t~” She moaned biting the back of her hand, taking back control form him, “Just relax~”

“Yeah the Yi family, TaeYong,HaeChan, Jeno, the whole lot of them and their spouses didn’t like that Mark loved me.” Yuta muttered, “So the fiancée they wanted…DongHyuk, pulled some strings and jailed here.”

“H-how did you even end up with him?” She moaned, “Mark was known for hiding from everyone outside of his family.”

“I was in the family,” Yuta moaned, “Families very close.”

“By the Gods I hate them for doing this to you,” She shuddered, not expecting him to ask.

“Who was the man your father wanted to keep you from then?” Yuta moaned, leaning on his elbows to watch.

“Marquis Jay? Jung,” She moaned, “He wanted my hand at the cost of my family’s.”

Yuta's hand snaked around her throat squeezing it as she jumped, “Don’t fucking moan another mans’ name when you're riding me.”

“A-air,” She squeaked against his hold. Eyes rolling back as he came, “Ohh~”

His grip tightened throughout the ordeal, “H-hey, t-Yuta.”

Coming to his senses he let go, “I can understand why he’d want you.” Yuta muttered, breathing heavily and she came off.

Yuta’s skin was always suspiciously soft and blemish free, despite the cuts and marks you saw.

“If we weren’t sold to the church….just maybe…if I met you first…just maybe…I’d have wedded you.” Yuta mumbled out, sitting on the bed waiting for her to come back.

...........

I understand if you wanna yell at me after reading this....I'll take a scenario or request to make up for it <3

Requests:

Normal: https://blue-broken-heart.tumblr.com/ask

Anon: https://blue-broken-heart.tumblr.com/submit

[flamehairedwritings]

The Red Guardian

Characters: Alexei Shostakov/The Red Guardian x Tourist!Female Reader

Rating: E, 18+ ONLY

Words: 3.3k

A/N: Wooops, I’ve accidentally been sitting on this for two months. OOPS. Enjoy!

Story tags: ‘90s Cuba, kind of opening scene of Black Widow spoilers, Alexei being Alexei, dirty talk, this is very much a pwp, semi-public, protected sex, using one another, one-night stand scenario, with a little bit of man-handling. Plus cunnilingus, fingering.

Summary: You just wanted a quiet drink... or did you really?

—

“... and I flipped it over like it was nothing, like it was just a page of a book!”

The occupants of the tiny, humid bar are unfazed by the Russian man’s ramblings, or maybe they’re just ignoring him, used to it.

He’s unfazed, too, though, by the seeming lack of interest, just carrying on as the bartender before him nods every now and then absent-mindedly while drying glasses.

“... ‘kaow’, ‘kaow’, ‘kaow’...” He mimics the sound of bullets as he mimes holding a gun, brow furrowed before his eyes widen as he lifts his hands. “... They were firing from all angles, enough to pin a normal man down, but I am no normal man. I took my gun and ‘bam’, ‘bam’, fired right back at them. And, behind me, my team had already gotten the plane ready and they were driving it down the runway, so what did I have to do? I ran…”

Inhaling a slow breath, you exhale it as you resist the urge to roll your eyes, your gaze flicking to the clock on the wall above the bar. He’s been talking since you arrived, which was nearly ten minutes ago, and you’re starting to wish you’d just had a drink in your hotel bar now.

Or just not left your room where there’s air conditioning and a mini-bar and quiet.

But, no, Bolu had made you go out even though she’d felt ill, to ‘soak up the culture and relax! Maybe fuck someone!’, though so far, you’re not getting much of the first two due to the rambling man.

And as for the last one… Phew, well… You’d see.

Just finish your drink then go for a walk then head back to the room. Done.

Sipping your drink, taking quite a few actually so that it’ll go down quicker, you let your gaze drift across the rows and rows of bottles behind the bartender, trying to see how many you recognise.

“Hey.”

Oh, no.

Swallowing your drink, you turn your head and find that, yep, the man has finally stopped talking, but now his attention is on you. Sitting three stools away, he has an easy, though touch leery, smile on his lips, and despite you having thought he was drunk, his eyes are bright and clear. He sits back, one arm resting on the bar top, the other on the back of the stool, and he’s dressed, like any other tourist here, in a white linen shirt that has a few buttons undone, and tan chinos. His brown hair was probably neat earlier today, but now it’s slightly bedraggled from the heat and where he’s probably run his hands through it, and there’s a light layer of stubble on his chin and jaw.

“... hey, excuse me,” he continues as your eyes meet his.

“Yeah?”

“Have you been stood up?”

Your eyebrows rise as you blink, your fingers playing with the straw in your glass. It’s a very impertinent question, maybe he is drunk. Or just an ass.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Ah, good.” His hand claps over his heart as his smile widens. “Otherwise it would’ve been a crime that I would’ve had to report.”

Here we go.

“Oh, right.”

“Because you are a very beautiful woman.”

There it is.

“Yep, thank you.”

Returning your gaze and attention to the bottles, you take a long sip of your drink, though you know from experience he’s not going to take the hint.

Instead of hearing his voice again, though, you hear his stool scrape back at a teeth-jarring frequency, the sound of his shoes, then the stool beside you being pulled back. He settles into it with a light sigh, and from the corner of your eye, you watch him signal the bartender for another drink.

“Can I get you something?” he asks, turning his head towards you and lowering his voice in a way that he probably thinks is seductive.

And, bizarrely, it is; his deep voice sends a light thrill down your spine, but when hasn’t a deep voice done that to you? You’re easily able to ignore it, tilting your head away as you shake it.

“No, thanks.”

“Are you sure? Back in my country, it’s quite something to have a drink bought for you by me.”

“I’m sure it is.”

He laughs, sitting back with such an air of arrogance that you almost want to ask him why that is.

Almost.

“So, tell me, beautiful lady,” he continues as the bartender pours his drink into a fresh glass, “Why are you here all alone? I can’t imagine why.”

“I just am.” You don’t know why you’re entertaining this, you could easily just walk away, your hotel’s only around the corner.

You know why, a voice that sounds a lot like Bolu’s whispers to you.

Shut up.

Because he’s attractive.

… Ugh.

Yes, fine, that’s why you’re entertaining it. In a strange, rugged, arrogant, irritating way, yes, he is.

And it’s with a resigned, internal sigh that you realise you’re probably going to fuck him.

The man tuts as his long, thick fingers wrap around his glass. “What a shame that is. From your accent I gather you’re on vacation, yes?”

Exhaling a breath, you sit back in your own chair and look at him, and he gives you that same, lazy, arrogant smile; almost as if he knows how this will end, too.

“I gather from yours you are as well.”

He chuckles, shrugging. “You could say that, yes.”

You don’t care about whatever the hell that means. “How long are you staying?”

He shrugs again as his fingers stroke over his jaw, his gaze lingering on yours. “Few days, maybe more. You?”

Your arms fold across your chest. “I leave tomorrow.”

It’s a lie, but there’s no need to start a holiday romance right now.

He drains his drink in one as his gaze sweeps up and down you in a wholly unsubtle manner. “Well,” he murmurs after swallowing, “We’d better celebrate your last night, huh?”

—

You don’t make it to your hotel.

Not that you actually really have much of a choice in the matter because the moment you step out of the bar he grabs your hand and leads you to the alleyway by the side of it.

That’s fine. You don’t really want him knowing where you’re staying, anyway.

Glancing over your shoulder at the empty street behind you as he pulls you along, the moment your head turns back to him you find he’s suddenly stopped and his hands cup your face, holding you steady as he leans down and seizes your lips in a firm, fierce kiss.

It’s a surprisingly good kiss, and any kind of doubt you’d had about this slips away. Besides, you’re going to give as good as you get.

Dropping your bag to the ground, your hands settle on his sides, gripping at his shirt as you hum against his lips. He groans in response, one arm moving to settle around your lower back, and, oh, you know you’re going to enjoy this, as annoying as he seems to be.

Pushing him backwards as you keep your grip on him, he groans again as his back collides against the wall, a large garbage bin now obscuring you both from the street.

“Mmh…” he rumbles, his hands gliding down your back and gripping your ass before sliding up again. “... Yes, I knew you would be a feisty woman…”

“Shut up...” you mumble against his lips, your fingers now unbuttoning the rest of his shirt to reveal the rest of his chest.

He chuckles lowly as you splay your fingers across his bare chest, feeling the hair there. “Mmh, no, I like it…”

His hands grip your ass again, pulling you hard against him, and you can’t stop the moan that escapes you at feeling his cock straining against his trousers. 

“Yes…” he growls, before stooping and slipping his hands under the skirt of your dress. Sliding them up the backs of your bare legs, he bites and sucks at your lower lip, groaning. “... Mmh, I want to taste you… Feel you wet on my lips…”

“Who says I’m wet…” you murmur, his arrogance constantly teetering on irritating, but he just laughs, a hand sliding around across your stomach and dipping down between your legs.

“Oh, she likes to tease, does she…” He laughs again as you moan suddenly at the feel of his fingers dragging up your damp panties, the sound low and triumphant. “... I think that you are…”

“Just shut up and touch me.”

“With pleasure.”

Kissing you hungrily, his fingers slip inside your panties with no grace at all but you don’t care one bit because he instantly starts to circle your swollen clit, his fingers dipping down momentarily to gather your wetness before continuing to circle.

Your mouth drops open, a long, breathy moan slipping out, and your eyes fall shut. Fuck, he knows what he’s doing. Which somehow makes this all the more irritating.

You’d envisaged this as being just a quick, half decent fuck to blow off some steam, but with the way his thumb is circling, and two of his thick fingers are gliding through your slick lips…

Moaning again, you’re about to try and find his lips to kiss him again, when he straightens momentarily to his full height, which you realise is very tall, and his free hand moves to the back of your head, cupping it as he stoops again and his lips descend upon your neck.

This man can’t seem to do anything gently, which is perfect. He sucks and bites and licks at your skin, and you know there’s going to be marks but right now you don’t care, especially as he pushes one of those long, thick fingers inside you and you have to bite down hard on your lower lip to stop that loud moan that wants to escape.

You feel his smile as his mouth trails down to your chest.

“Do you like that, you beautiful woman… Yes… So wet and tight for me, fuck... Let me see those tits, I want to suck on them…”

His hand moves from the back of your head to a strap of your dress and bra, yanking them both down your shoulder together, before doing the same with the other. Your breasts sit pert and high now from how the neck-line of your dress sits, and he goes straight for a hard, peaked nipple, sucking and licking at it.

You have to bite hard at your lower lip again, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure thrums through your body. A live band starts up somewhere, possibly in the bar you’d both been in, and it’s loud enough that you can exhale a louder moan without worrying if someone on the street might hear.

Not that you actually care much about that right now.

Especially as he doesn’t seem to care at all with the words that are pouring out of his mouth.

“... Mmh, so good… Gorgeous, gorgeous fucking woman… Do you like that, hm? Do you like feeling my fingers inside you, stroking you just like this… Yeess…” he hisses as he draws a sharp moan from you after pushing a second finger inside you, his thumb swiping up and down over your clit in time with his thrusting fingers.

Part of you thinks he’s doing this more for his own ego and pleasure than yours, but you don’t really give a fuck because it feels fucking good regardless.

His wet mouth moves to your other nipple, and your back arches into him, your head tipping back.

“Mmh, fu-uck…”

“Yeess…” he groans again, but you block him out, just focusing on his mouth and fingers as they push you towards your orgasm, your fingers gripping at him as heat surges in your lower stomach.

And then he stops.

“What—”

Just as your eyes snap open, he suddenly spins you, turning you both and pressing your front against the wall.

You release a small sound as your cheek and breasts rest against the surprisingly cool wall, and he presses a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your other cheek, growling in the back of his throat.

“If you’re going to cum, I’m going to feel it on my cock…” he gravels, and, oh… maybe you can continue listening to him talk.

He kisses at your jaw and neck as his hands fist your dress. He pulls it right up over your ass, where his fingers then slide over your hips and yanks them back, making you lean forward, now just your cheek and chest pressed against the wall.

“Do you have protection?” he murmurs against your skin, not pausing his kisses.

Annoying, that he asked it before you.

“Yeah, in my bag,” you reply, and, oh, you wish your voice hadn’t sounded so breathy.

“Good.” Kissing your shoulder, his fingers tighten on your hips for a moment. “Stay right here, do not move.”

For fuck’s sake, that makes your lower stomach clench as you resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together. You know you’re dripping wet at those words alone, so thank fuck he doesn’t have his hands on you to gloat about it.

You watch him step away in your peripheral vision, and hear him lift your bag, unzipping it and rifling through. By the sounds of it, he’s letting a few items just drop to the ground which makes you want to tut, but what did you expect?

Then, you do tut as you hear him drop your bag to the ground, but it’s swifty followed by the sound of his belt unbuckling and a condom packet opening, and your irritation instantly vanishes.

“Look at you…” he murmurs, and your teeth drag over your lower lip, expecting to feel the head of his cock.

Instead, though, you feel something warm and wet.

Your eyes fall shut once more as you feel his tongue lick a long and slow path up your pussy, and he groans into you.

“Fuckin’ perfect…” He adds something else in Russian, something mumbled, and his voice vibrates against your slick lips.

“Fuck…” you breathe, pushing your ass back against him, and he grips your hips again, holding you in place as he laps at you.

It seems like just as he starts, he stops, though, rising to his feet and towering over you again.

His hands remain on your hips, his mouth by your ear as he murmurs, “Mmh, I could feast on you for fucking hours, but I want to feel you on my cock, I want to feel you…”

“Fuck me, then…” you hiss, and he laughs.

“Yes, you want me so bad, don’t you, you want my cock…”

You still don’t feel his cock, though, and you push your ass back against him, a huff escaping you. “Fuck me…”

“So needy…” You’re about to snap back when he presses a kiss under your ear and whispers, “... Tell me you want my cock…”

Damn him.

Reaching a hand back, you glide your fingers up his neck until you reach his hair, twisting your fingers in as you turn your head towards him.

Your lips brush against his as you murmur, “I want your cock inside me.” 

A deep groan escapes him, and just as he nips at your lower lip, he pushes his cock into you.

He’s slow, letting you feel every thick inch of him, and your eyes nearly roll back as they close.

“Oh, fuck… Oh…” you breathe, your back arching and fingers tightening on his hair, and his hands keep your hips pulled back against him.

“Yesss... Take the Red Guardian’s cock…” he growls, biting and sucking at your neck.

Is that what he calls himself? Oh, God…

You don’t have a chance to think on it further, though, as he draws his hips back and snaps them forward, and does it again, and again, and again…

You have to fight hard to keep your moans from echoing down the alleyway as he fucks you hard and fast.

He mumbles and groans things into your ear, his accent becoming more pronounced, some Russian words slipping in here and there, but you just focus on how fucking good it feels.

He’s chasing after his own orgasm, his earlier words of wanting to feel you cum on his cock maybe just for show, but you don’t fucking care. It’s fast and hard and brutal and good and you’re going to cum soon.

Maybe you murmur it or maybe he feels it, because he laughs harshly against your ear. “Yes… Yes, yes, yes… Cum, I can feel you… Cum on the Red Guardian’s thick cock… Take it…”

Needing something to grip onto, your grip tightens on his hair, which he seems to like, laughing again, though it soon morphs into grunts.

“Yes… Fuck…”

Biting down on your lower lip, your moans increase in pitch as your back arches. You can feel your orgasm coming, surging towards you, and it’s all you want.

When it finally crashes down on you, you almost forget he’s there, until his hand claps over your mouth to muffle your most likely loud moans. All you can do is press back against him and groan into his palm, waves and waves of pleasure washing over you.

And he just fucks you through it, not stopping, unrelenting, grunting and cursing in Russian into your ear, whispering what may be sweet nothings but you can’t understand them.

You’re just starting to come down from your high when his thrusts start to stutter, and then he thrusts into you once more, and stills, a prolonged, low moan ripped from him as he cums. He buries his face into your neck to try and quieten himself, and you let him, your hand on his hair holding him there.

Then, all is quiet as he just breathes against your neck and you breathe into his hand.

The music continues, and no one calls down the alley to you.

You’re content to just stand there for a few more moments to just catch your breath, when he laughs, and releases a low whistle.

“Holy shit… You’re fuckin’ good.”

Aaaaand we’re done now.

Pulling his hand down from your mouth, you raise your eyebrows as you nudge him away with your elbow. “Same to you.”

He pulls out, and you lick your lips, managing to stifle the soft sound that would usually invoke from you, and turn from him, adjusting your dress and settling everything back in its place.

Moving away, you pick up your bag and stuff the items that he’d thrown out back into it, trying not to cringe as he whistles again.

“... Holy shit… Very good.”

It had been good, but you’re not looking to get attached, so...

I wonder if Bolu will want ice cream, I want ice cream now. I wonder if the hotel has any—                                                                                                          

“So, what’s your name?”

Oh, no.

Glancing up at him, you give him a brief smile. “It doesn’t really matter, does it.”

He chuckles, leaning against the wall while he tucks his cock back into his trousers. You have no idea where he’s thrown the condom, and you don’t care to look.

“No, I suppose not. Well, if you’re ever in Cuba again—”

Straightening, you smile again. “Oh, I won’t be. Thanks for this, bye.”

Turning, you stride down the alleyway, listening to his chuckle echo down it.

“Well, goodbye, beautiful woman. I hope our paths do cross again!”

You almost smile as you step back out onto the street, safe in the knowledge that you’re never going to see him again. 

Ever. 

Never.

—

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[thespoonisvictory]

excerpt from my “niki and wilbur secret city healing fic” that I will never actually finish:

“You’re not eating.”

It’s Niki, standing in the doorway, a plate of food tucked to her side, eyes narrowed and posture stiff.

“Yes, I am.”

It’s Wilbur, facing the wall, slouched on a bed, in that grimy coat he refused to be without.

“No, you’re not.”

It’s them, somewhere between open hostility and practiced ambivalence, a sad parody of a bond once inseparable. It’s them, unable to carry a full conversation. It’s them, alone, in Niki’s city, where Niki begs him to heal and Wilbur begs to leave.

Niki sighed, pushing forward into the room. “You need to eat, surely you’re not dense enough to forget that.”

“I have been.” Wilbur snaps, but it lacks any sort of fire. Increasingly prominent cheekbones, clothes that hung looser with every passing day, and the dullness of his eyes and hair betrayed him, and they were both aware. The wounds that littered his body refused to recover, and every action was done so with a tired resignation.

“Don’t lie to me.” Niki takes another step forward. “You were never any good at it.”

It was true. The honeyed words that hid him from others never managed quite as well for her. It was too easy to see her friend underneath the persona, the earnestness and raw, organic smile he flashed to her when others weren’t looking.

 It had made her feel special, then, to be privy to the most undone version of him. To feel known and to know, without reservation. To be the subject of sleep-deprived rambles on the floor of her bakery, a pastry and warm drink between them. To hear his new obsessions, to have facts pulled out of her like strings plucked on a guitar. To be something lovely and untouched, together, a friendship unmuddied by the ever-present politics weighing on their shoulders.

Now, it makes her feel lied to.

She watches his shoulders shrug in acknowledgement, and he slowly turns to face her. The movement seems almost painful, a slow and awkward rearranging of limbs, and he refuses to meet her eyes.

“Why do you care, then?” Wilbur rasped, quiet.

“I don’t.” Niki lied. “But Phil wouldn’t take kindly to me letting his son die of starvation.”

His face tightened, almost imperceptibly. The battle won.

“Leave it here, Niki. I’ll eat later.” And a hand outstretched, bones prominent, pale.

On another day, in another world, she would have believed him.

She had believed him, once. Left meals and plates on his desk when he wasn’t looking, waited for them to disappear. It had made her feel needed, wanted. To know that she was the one helping him, indulging his long shifts and hours spent at that old, wooden desk. To be thanked, silently, with wildflowers left in her bakery, with little gifts to amuse her, with contact, trusting, hands held and hair fixed, buttons done up with care.

Now, it felt like a test. A reference point, to check that they were still bound together. Now, she didn’t believe him.

“Eat it now.” Niki’s voice held steady, thankfully.

She wanted the exchange over with, painless.

But Wilbur froze, hand retreating quickly. He swallowed, throat bobbing.

“No.”

“What?” Niki questioned, bitter. “Just take the food, Wil.” The nickname fell flat on her tongue.

“No.” He repeated, more fervently than before.

“Why?” Another step forward.

“I said no, Niki. I’ll eat it later.”

“And I said, tell me why.” Another, and another, until they were close enough that she heard his sharp intake of breath.

She leaned down to meet his gaze, and was met with not the fire she was expecting, but an unfiltered desperation. A fear.

“Don’t make me say it. Just leave the food, please.” Wilbur’s voice shook, laced with a vulnerability she had heard so few times.

He had recounted the button room to her, one night. He had walked into her bakery earlier to be met with Eret, his fingers covered in flour. His face had dropped and he had walked out immediately, stony, leaving Niki to wonder what happened. There they had sat, wine-drunk, under the stars, under darkness that allowed his features to relax and his words to be honest.

It was decidedly one of her favorite versions of her friend, sentences soft and mumbled like poetry as he recounted why he paled at the sight of her new friend, eyes shining with unshed tears. She wondered if he remembered that.

“Tell me.” 

She just wanted to leave.

Wilbur’s voice softened. “It’s poisoned, isn’t it?”

“What?” Of the reasons she was suspecting, this was not one.

“I- I don’t know for sure, but I can’t trust it.” His voice wavered, trying to maintain composure. “What if you poisoned it? What if you slipped it in, decided to get rid of me?”

“Wil, I-”

“I can’t go back there, Niki.” His hands grabbed the fabric making up his quilt, brow furrowed. “I won’t go back there. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Shocked, Niki tentatively moved past him, sat down on the mattress, set down the plate. The silence lay steadily as she grasped for words.

“It’s not poisoned. I could never- would never do that to you.”

“I would, if I were you.” A confession, quiet. “I’d want me dead too.”

A deep sadness settled into Niki’s gut, replacing the anger she had always carried. “I don’t want you dead, Wil. I want you to heal.” She paused. “I want my friend back.”

“I’m right here.” A plea, even quieter. For what, she didn’t know.

“Just- eat, please. You might feel better.”

A phrase repeated so many times before. She had offered him food countless times in Pogtopia, pressed fruits and dried meat into his hands, concerned for his tired eyes and jerky movements. He had accepted, if rarely. It had made her feel accomplished. To know that she had done what his brothers could not. To know she had made a difference, perhaps, to know that the last remnants of before were not yet gone. To be partners in crime again, if fleeting.

“I can’t.” 

Niki sighed.

She picked up a slice of bread off the plate, thick, filled with herbs and nuts. Watching his eyes follow her, she raised it to her mouth, taking a bite. She swallowed.

His eyes widened slightly as she offered it out to him, fingers betraying him in the subtle way they reached out, wanting.

Without warning, he grabbed it, holding it tentatively. After a pause, he took a bite as well. And another. Another. Within minutes, the slice was gone. 

Suddenly, Niki was stifling a laugh, a smile dancing on her face. Wilbur turned to her, innocently confused, his eyes wide.

“What?” He questioned, and oh his tone was light.

She couldn’t contain it anymore, and burst out laughing, giggling, doubled over. The ridiculousness of it all got to her, and the tension broke as he started smiling despite himself.

“It was good bread!” He protested.

Niki went to stand up. “I have more, if you want.”

But Wilbur waved his hand, shook his head. “No, I’m like, very full right now.”

She nodded, another chuckle escaping her. Without thinking about it, she leaned into his shoulder, pressing them together like she always had.

For a moment, it all felt so normal again. Like they had slid right back into familiar camaraderie, teasing, shedding the weight that had plagued them. It could have been minutes or hours theu sat there, both of them soaking in the contact.

“Later tonight, then.”

“Yeah.” His voice was still small, but soft, stable, almost drowsy.

Wilbur confirmed her suspicions as he spoke. “I’m really sleepy, for some reason.” His posture was more relaxed than she had seen it in years.

“Go to bed, then.” Niki suggested.

He nodded, but his eyes were dark.

“Can you?” She prompted.

“Not usually.” Mumbling, as always. “I just lay there, mostly, thinking about my evil plots, scheming. You know the deal.” 

“Try. You might be lucky this time.”

He huffed. “Ok.”

Niki stood, ready to leave, but paused. “Let me take your coat, Wil.”

Wilbur stilled, and she was so sure he would say no, reject the offer. But after a moment, he began shrugging it off, shedding the mottled fabric.

He offered it out to her, and as she took it she could feel the familiar weight, draping it over her arm. 

He looked so much smaller this way. Sat on the guest bed, hair rumpled, dressed simply in a white button down, he looked younger, too, less official.

“I’ll be back in a few hours, I have some errands to run. Business to attend to. I’ll bring some more of that bread, too.”

Wilbur nodded, eyes blinking slowly as he yawned.

She turned around, pausing in the doorway to see her friend one last time. She shut the door gently.

[colossal-fallout]

Why do I think about seducing pastor! Erwin in a church AJDJABDSJD my brain really be doing this to me all day long 😭

Girl, you're in for a treat...

Sin 🔥

Fem!body reader X Erwin Smith

Warning: 18+ smut NSFW. Gentle chokes. Oral sex.

Don't read this if you're religious and it'll offend.

Pastor Erwins deep voice rumbles throughout the echoing church hall - the room full of bowed heads and hands pressed together in a quiet prayer.

Yet to you, the only two people in the room were you and Pastor Smith.

The surrounding mutters of hopeful prayers melted away, only his voice the lead of the monotonous quior of the prayer. Your teeth graze your bottom lip, no doubt smudging your deep red lipstick. The colour mirroring your sinful lust as your eyes trail down his chest, his robes pressed neatly against his chest as he continues the prayer, his blue eyes suddenly snapping to yours.

Your heart skips a beat - surely he wasn't smirking at you while the entire room had their head bowed in prayer?

You swallow hard, lips parting and your temperature raising as his orbs ever so painfully tear themselves away from you as the prayer comes to an end; heads returning to there usual position after the "Amen" was uttered around the room.

You wondered if you'd imagined that. After all, you were just a quiet, shy little church girl. Maybe your untouched body was beginning to take control of your sanity? Your hands absentmindedly run down your thighs as you watch him, smiling and bringing the mass to an end.

Maybe he smiled because he noticed you weren't praying?

But how could you? How could you turn your face to your god while these wild, burning desires were smouldering inside of you? The devil truly had his claws in your flesh, trying to drag you into the flames of lust.

And it was working.

You lower your head in shame as the people around you all got their feet, about to leave the church, your daddy placing his hand on your shoulder and guiding you down and out of the lines of pews.

Your stomach drops as you get closer to the exit - pastor Smith wishing his flock well as they left.

You tried to shuffle by unnoticed behind your dad as you go to leave when;

"Ah Mr L/N." His stupid fuckin' sexy smile tears at your libido as he stops your dad for a quick chat. "Thank you for coming, as always"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Pastor." Your dad grins.

"I was wondering, if it were okay with you two, of course; if y/n could stay back and help me with the upcoming church event next week? She helped last year and her work was amazing."

Your dad chuckles, beaming with pride, placing his hand on your shoulder. "Well she ain't no little girl no more. She's twenty-three now. It's up to her what she does with her time. But I'm glad she did a mighty fine job."

"Well, y/n? Would you stay and help me for an hour or two?"

You nod.

This was most certainly a test. One you were intent on failing. Gladly.

---

Twenty minutes later, you were sitting at a table in the side room of the main hall; Erwin had sprawled out plans and blueprints for the upcoming annual church event. Your focus was absolutely destroyed when he leaves for a few minutes and returns - having removed his robes and was wearing a skin tight black, long sleeved shirt that hugged his solid muscles so so tightly. It was tucked into his black trousers and his white collar struggled to stay clasped around his large throat and neck.

Your breathing rate increases and the grip on your pen almost snapped the plastic - it was now or never. You had to have this man, to taint one another under the eyes of God in a beautiful sinful, swirling inferno.

"I must confess..." He sighs as he sits opposite you. "I have an ulterior motive asking you to stay behind."

You arch an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I've noticed you... Have been a lot more distracted during services. Is there something on your mind?"

There sure is.

You feign ignorance and shake your head with a frown. "No, pastor."

Your eyes widen and heart begins to bray against your chest as leans over and places his large hand around yours.

"Are you sure? Because you know... You can tell me anything."

Do it. Do it. Your brain screams at you. For added courage you imagine your friends behind you cheering you on. Which they absolutely would.

"Well Pastor..." You fake a sigh, getting to your feet and slowly circling around the table towards him. "Something has been bothering me. But I'm not sure if you're the person I should talk to about it."

He subconsciously pushes out his chair to greet you, your beautiful form in your black lacy dress slowly stalking towards him, your hem hitched to flash the top of your suspenders. You did it so well it seemed like a genuine accident as you notice his collar bob in a hard swallow.

You sit yourself on his lap, his hands glueing to your waist - clearly nervous.

"You can tell me anything." He croaks.

You place your lips close to his ear, making sure to breathe hot air into it and across his neck. "...But I'm shy, Pastor. I'm just an innocent, untainted, good little church girl. I couldn't possibly... Tell you."

You notice the grip on your waist tighten, and you're sure you heard the slightest ghost of a groan within him, setting your blaze even more higher.

"Well, y/n." He clears his throat. God how he'd thought about fucking you so many times. Your sweet, innocent smile. That body... Your angelic voice; all just begging to be ruined. "Would it help if we went into the confession booth?"

You let out a sensual moan, moving your ass against him. "What a great idea..."

You feel his hardening cock stir awake under your ass, holding in a groan from its sheer size.

You knew he'd be hung.

You couldn't get to your feet quick enough as you lead him into the main hall towards the confession box. Once you'd reached it, you'd noticed he'd removed his collar and had left it behind on the table.

Once inside, you couldn't contain your excitement as you hear him enter the other booth, his throat clearing once again.

"Forgive me, father for I have sinned..." You begin, glaring at the floor with a bite of your lip.

"Tell me all, my child." He mutters.

"I've been having urges. Unholy urges. My body remains untouched yet I crave the poison of a man."

He goes quiet. So you continue.

"I am on fire for this man. Even now, thinking about him devouring me is making me so... Wet."

"Ah~" he's stuck on his words. "Is it one man in particular?"

"Yes. I yearn for him. He's my pastor... Pastor Erwin."

Your eyes clasp closed. Awaiting the wrath of an angry man of God.

You suddenly press yourself back when the door slams open, your vicar towering over you with an expression so snarled he looked like a total stranger. His chest is. heaving - you noticed he had now undone his top two buttons, his tight black trousers stretching and strained with his huge, solid cock.

He grabs your face, eyes flicking up and down between your eyes and mouth. Your lips part, heart hammering.

"You have lipstick on your teeth." He snarls. "Probably from all that sexy lip biting you've been doing. Here. Allow me..."

He groans as his tongue slides into your mouth, hands planting nonnyour ass as you squeak, your legs wrapping around his waist while he pins you to the back of the confession booth; your hands gladly messing up that perfect hair of his as his mouth hungrily makes its way to your neck.

"y/n. Must you tease me so much." He breathes through kisses that are now on your chest after pulling down the front of your dress. "Every week. I can't hold back and longer..."

"Pastor!" You gasp, using his strength to push you up the wall and hooking your legs over his shoulders, the top of your head brushing against the ceiling of the box. He pushes your laced panties aside with his mouth before enclosing his warm cave around your entirety - your mouth falling open and gasping as his immense strength pins you still with such steady ease.

"Ah~!" You cry out, this man finally taking you better than you could have ever imagined as he eats you like it's his last meal. Tasting, lapping, slurping so deliciously with groans and hums.

"Taste. So. Sweet " He sighs into you, making out with your slit like it were your lips. He then focuses his tongue in your clit, your thighs tightening around his head as you yank his hair, calling out god's name within his own house.

His fingertips dig into your flesh above those sexy suspenders beneath your dress, his pace quickening as your insides curl, this huge beast of a man totally devouring you with such lust it would seem like a crime insert normal circumstances.

"Erwin~!" You cry, your yearning for him throwing you into your orgasm rather quickly.

He groans loudly as your juices splash against him, your thighs squeezing and your hands tugging as his hair as you call his name over and over again.

He lowers you when you descend back to earth.

"Good girl..." He moans in your ear, pulling your dress up and over your head, your knees still quaking.

He stands back and marvels at you, standing in only your knickers and suspenders, his tongue rolling over his lip. You notice the damp patch on his chest from your cum before he scoops you up again, moving you both from inside the booth, the two of you frantically kissing deeply as he moves you to his podium, bending you over so you had a view of the pews below that's usually full of people.

Unbuckling his belt, he frees himself; unleashing the long and deliciously thick beast he calls his cock.

You gasp as he loops his belt around your neck, pulling your head up to him where he snarls into your ear.

"We'll burn in hell together, baby."

He shoves his dick inside you with one long and hard thrust, a silent scream escaping you as your eyes roll and he begins to pound you, a long echoing groan with each thrust, your nails digging into the podium.

He keeps the belt loose, not wanting to hurt you but enough to keep you in line as his massive manhood slams against your cervix over and over again, the podium rocking slightly and clanking against the cold stone floor.

"yes, y/n... You take me so well." He praises, kissing your back lovingly.

You can't reply.

Your senses are over taken with ecstasy and your nose is full of the scent of the leather around your neck, his grunts becoming more urgent as he reaches down and circles your clit; your legs so ready to give way. The wet slopping sound of his balls hitting against you echo around the hall.

You both come undone - he with a loud grunt and you with a scream; your sins beautifully washing away as you swirl the heavens together; amidst your intense orgasms, you were sure you saw god himself and he was giving you full permission to enjoy this moment.

Erwins cum spilled out of you onto the floor, even though he was still pounding into you, your tunnels flooded with his large unloading of seed, the delicious smell of his mess overtaking the leather as he slows to a stop, kissing your back and neck desperately, releasing your neck from his belt.

"y/n..." He breathes.

You turn to face him as he supports you in his strong embrace, your tongues swirling once more.

"Same again next week, Pastor?" You breathe.

He nods. "Yes, my child. ...Same again next week."

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Past midnight.

This is two stories and is dedicated to @detective-giggles who got me on to 9-1-1 lone star, which I have fallen in love with. These two fic’s are based on a scene in episode two and it was too hard to pick between Nick and Rafael, so I wrote it for them both. Nick’s fic is first and after the **** is Rafi’s.

Warnings: Start of smut and fluff.

WC: 1672

Enjoy x

You weren’t surprised when the message came through from Nick just as you walked into your apartment after the shit show that the day was. The cases were coming in back-to-back, in-between court and you were all pretty much working by yourselves on cases to try and get on top of them all. It was just what you needed, just a quick lay, then get home to try and get some sleep and hope that you all didn’t get called in with more crimes being committed over the weekend.

You told him to give you half an hour, quickly jumping into the shower, putting on a new matching silk thong set you had picked up a couple of weeks ago, slipping on a green sundress and flip flops walking out the door to get a cab. The cab pulled up and you made your way into Nick’s apartment building taking the lift up to the 15th floor and walking down to his door.

You could feel your arousal already building up, your core clenching around nothing, just thinking about the last time he drove you into his mattress. It was Nick that made the first move and you had pushed for it just be friends with benefits. He said he was fine with it, but deep down he wanted so much more with you, but he figured that was a good start and you were only sleeping with each other so it was ok, he had no one to be jealous of.

You knocked hard and stood back slightly waiting for him to answer the door. When it opened, your eyes racked over his appearance, a fresh shirt undone just enough to show off his collar bones, fresh pants, sleeves rolled, just a pair of socks on and smelling divine. Nick moved out of the way, and you rushed inside all but pouncing on him, pushing him even more into the wall as you pushed the door shut behind you. Your lips crashing on his and your hands going to his shirt buttons undoing them as fast as you could. Nick pulled back from you and you looked up at him biting your bottom lip,

“Y/N, slow down” Nick chuckled as your lips landed on his neck and you pushed yourself into his crotch “Y/N” Nick grabbed your wrist’s pulling them away from him, stopping your movements and you looked up at him confused.

“What’s wrong?” you looked up at him panting, wondering why he stopped you.

Nick’s eyes were soft and tender and he looked down at you with a small smile, one hand letting go of your wrist and coming up cradle your cheek, his long thumb running under your chin affectionately. Nick kissed your cheek and he nodded towards his living area. Your eyes blew open and your mouth opening slightly when you looked at his dining room table.

Two long lit candles in sliver candle holders between two plates with cutlery set up across from each other. You had been so wrapped up in trying to get Nick’s shirt off, that you hadn’t even notice the amazing smell of whatever was cooking flowing from the kitchen,

“What’s all this?” You looked up at Nick surprised.

Nick brought one hand to rest on your hip and the other went to your arm,

“I just wanted to treat you; we have been eating out all week and I thought a home cooked meal would be good for both of us” he smiled down at you.

Nick grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the table, moving the chair out for you to sit down and then walked to the fridge getting a bottle of white wine, walking back, pouring you a glass and handing it to you.

“But Nick, its past midnight. I thought- “

Nick sat down his glass and the bottle, walking around to crouch down next to you, his hands resting on your leg. You turned slightly looking down at him, one of your hands going on top of his,

“Y/N, I wanted to spend some time with you. I don’t just want to call you anymore in the middle of the night, to- well yeah. I want more and I would like more with you. I have feelings for you, I don’t want it just to be for that, I want to go out on dates, I want to show you off, I want you to be emotionally and physically all mine” Nick let out a deep breath that he didn’t know he had been holding and he looked up at you, your eyes meeting his amazing brown ones.

You let go of his hands, reaching both up to cup his cheeks and you lent forward pressing your lips slowly to his. Both of Nick’s hands left your lap and came up grab into your arms, as he moved to kneel on his knees. The kiss was soft and slow. You pulled back and kissed Nick’s forehead, he grinning up at you,

“So, this is our first date?”

“Well, yeah if you want it to be. I know I do”

You nodded and titled your head to the side,

“I would like that. Although, I don’t usually sleep with people on the first date, but for you I’ll make exception”

 *******************************************************************************************************************

It was exactly an hour from the moment you sent the message till the moment there was a knock on the door. You had gotten home at 11.30 pm, Amanda dropping you off after a long night in Rafael’s office. You quickly freshened up and got to organising your signature ravioli and pumpkin bake, throwing it in the oven and shooting Rafael a text asking if he wanted to come over.

He had needed it; you had needed it. You wanted to feel his weight on top of you and he wanted your hands running along his bare skin. The friends with benefits had been going on for a while, he had even taken you to a city hall event, but no matter how many hints you dropped, he never took the hint that you wanted more, so you kept just doing what you had been doing.

You didn’t want to lose what you had with him and you knew that it could be awkward working with him if in the end he didn’t want to take the next step, but you needed to say something, your feelings had grown, you needed to take the step to know where you stood.

You swung the door open to a smirking Rafael, no jacket, suspenders on show, tie gone with top button undone to show off his under shirt and his sleeves rolled up. Rafael walked towards you, backing you into your apartment, slamming the door shut with his foot, his hands going to your hips pushing you up against the wall. Rafael started to kiss you roughly before he started to kiss down to your neck, rolling his hips into you and his hands slid down from your hips and started to slide up under your t shirt dress.  

“Rafi” your hands went to his shoulders, his lips pressed into your neck. “Rafael, wait” You reached down stopping his hands and he pulled back from you looking up at you with a confused look on his face.

“Ah- is everything ok?” Rafael stepped back from you, his hands going to his hips and confused.

You smiled at him, your hand going to his writs, you tugged on it and pulled him toward your small dinning room off the kitchen. Rafael’s eyes scanned the small 4-seater table, a bottle of wine and two glasses sitting between two place settings and a ding of the oven rang through the apartment,

“Everything is fine, I just wanted to do something nice for you. We have been so busy and I just wanted to talk to you, spend time with you”

“But it’s late, it’s past midnight. You usually only message this late when-” he trailed off, his eyes back on the table.

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about” Rafael looked back at you with an eye brow raised and you took a deep breath “I like you Rafi, a lot. I let my emotions creep in and I tried to shake them away, but I can’t. I know you may not feel the same, but I can’t keep kidding myself-“

Rafael cut you off, his hands going to your face pulling you into him, his lips meeting yours. The kiss was deep, but sweet. Your hands going to rest on his wrists. After a long moment Rafael broke the kiss, leaning back to lock eyes with you. A smile pulling to his face making his eyes wrinkle and his thumbs ran along your cheeks,

“My heart has been broken and I have closed myself off for such a long time. You were the first person, in a really long time to break through my walls and I didn’t stop you, I didn’t want to stop you. I like how you make me feel. I have feelings for you too, I like you a lot Y/N. I want to take you out; I want the whole world to know your mine”

“You- you feel the same?” you blinked up at him.

“I do. I have for a while. Just took you making the first move” Rafael winked down at you.

“You feel the same?” you repeated and Rafael nodded back grinning down at you.

You jumped on him, your arms around his neck and his hands going around your middle pulling you into him,

“I’ am guessing this is our first date?”

“I was hoping so” you pulled back grinning at him.

“Only because its 1 am and what you have cooked smells amazing, is the only reason we are staying in. As soon as this trial is over we are going out and whole world is going to know that your mine”

Tags: @detective-giggles @beccabarba  @witches-unruly-heart @dianilaws @scarletsoldierrr @lv7867  @permanentlydizzy @averyhotchner @infiniteoddball @fandom-princess-forevermore @madamsnape921 @annabelleb49 @alwaysachorusgirl @thatesqcrush @lovelymischief @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo​ @harryssxnflwr​