#and NO SHARP ANGLES and NO CHISELED JAW

[marimbles]

I’ve spent all my drawing years making fanart of twinky teenagers and now im paying for it. now I have to draw buff people and it goes against everything I used to stand for (refusing to give anyone muscles bc I felt it was OOC)

[pedgito]

𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | Logan Howlett x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | with no threshold for pain, logan finds that losing control with you is easier, triggering a thirst that is insatiable.

author's note | um.......yeah idk. i have no excuse and while i still write predominately for pedge boys i had to. i couldn't help it. am i sorry? no. is this insane? a little. special thanks to @ovaryacted, @pr0ximamidnight & @wannab-urs for being the best and reading this over

content warning | 18+ smut, written with x-men (2000)!logan in mind, mutant!reader, established relationship, hand kink (and sensitivity), pain kink, blood kink, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), exchange of bodily fluids (yes its bl*od), mentions of exhibitionism, also kinda body worship, this turned out way kinkier than it was supposed to be

word count —2.2k

Logan was never soft, but he’s learned to smooth out his sharp edges for you.

And while he was never shy, he wasn’t always open about his claws slipping out near climax when things got a little too out of control or his mind would slip, bordering into that animalistic ferocity he sometimes drifted into when he was more desperate.

Just a touch, a lick, a press of his skin against yours and he’d haul you onto whatever surface was close by and rail you into a near amnesic state of consciousness. It made you feel like you were floating, allowing his superhuman strength to lift you up and off to bed, spending most of those nights in his room rather than your own.

You weren’t a thing, it had never been established. But, Logan has grown comfortable, familiar, and he was appreciative of it, even if he didn’t show it. It came with the kisses when you slipped into his room after heavy training evenings or a night where he just needed some entertainment, something to keep him occupied. 

He liked your company even if it was never spoken aloud. 

The signs came when you would scoot away on the couch to give him space when you both would drift into meaningless conversation that would in turn mold into you, in his lap after a soft tug and a complacent smirk on his face.

You’ve grown fond of him, his wittiness and unrestrained personality that was often subdued under a dark, brooding facade, his body too—strong, chiseled arms and a well-defined chest. He was big, everywhere. All-consuming and just bordering on the edge of too much. But, it was his hands that really pulled you in.

Thumbs pressing beyond swollen lips as you run the surface of your tongue against his skin, an aid to muffle the whimpers that slip beyond your lips when you’re trying to be quiet—when Logan needs you quiet, teetering on a dangerous line of exhibitionism if you keep it up.

Or the length of his hands squeezing against your hips, pulling you back to meet his thighs as his cock spears you open, his palm often finding on your lower back as he presses you further into the mattress, ass angled up as best you could manage when he was rutting himself into you like he was in heat—gruff, wet pants of a gradually building high against your skin that drove you wild. 

His claws have slipped out a few times—your headboard remained the proof as he’d rid himself of his own long ago, deep but thick holes in the wood that you’re almost positive continued into the drywall. He’s ruined a pillow or two, but there was a surge of excitement that came along with it. 

The sound of them as they slip beyond his skin, not even the slightest grimace on his face as it happens, ultimately taken by his pleasure in overdrive, the action always registers half a second too late.

 Thankfully, you’ve come to sense it well.

You always know just where to touch—what drives him wild and extracts the feral nature in him and what softens his steely regard. Touches along his jaw pull him in, lips pressing against the spot on you mirroring your fingers on him. 

Sometimes it’s nails digging into his indestructible skin, irritated and swollen marks that would fade as quickly as they appeared, no use in drawing blood as it never spilled.

But, the soft and intriguing sounds that slip as you run your fingers along his forearm are something you take note of over time—occasionally just a tickle that he shrugs away with a soft chuckle, slipping his hand between your bodies to play with your clit, leaving him just out of reach as he circles that sensitive bundle of nerves, urging your eyes to stay on him, with him.

He’s always good at talking you through, gentle words of encouragement married with tight, guttural groans as his cock sinks into you, a hand at your thigh to keep you spread open, his gaze always wandering down to marvel at the sight of you and him and you take him so well—he’s told you a million times over by now.

Occasionally his hands will make a slow crawl to your shoulders or your neck, curling around the muscle and cradling you, like an anchor for himself. Your own fingers spread over his grip, right along the ridge of his knuckles. 

At first he tensed, his hands slipping away in a hurry to grip another part of your body, lower, deeper—disconnecting helped and even if he had learned to control the urge to a degree, there was always a chance.

Logan wasn’t oblivious to your own regenerative healing—not entirely indestructible, although the lack of pain receptors made you a viable asset for a plethora of things but being on the other end of a spar with him was still nothing to take lightly, a man of challenge himself, you weren’t leaving that fight without a couple knicks and cuts even though as soon as they appeared, they were then non-existent.

Physically, you were a challenge, nothing for people to underestimate. The perfect torture device, the ideal punching bag. You've learned to subdue the emotion and the mental toll it took, but with Logan, there was an openness to be vulnerable, knowing that you needed the pain just as much as it often displeased you.

Where Logan fears worry and shame, you find the care and curiosity in soothing the spots where his claws tear through, a gentle squeeze of your fingers in the spaces between his knuckles, a kiss to each one and down his wrist, a show of affection while your eyes never leave his own.

Sometimes you did it absently, on the couch while you both drifted to sleep after a long day or during a movie that you’ve thrown on to distract Logan from his own mind—some days he just needed you around in whatever form you had to offer.

There wasn’t a single part of him you didn’t admire and one night, like tonight, things reach culmination and Logan slips.

—

His mouth waters at the sight of you on your back, pussy on full display and your thighs spread wide under his grip as his cock sinks deep and pulls out, right to the tip before he’s drilling himself back inside of you, fingers twisting into the sheets so hard they often rip, eyes drifting close as your head keens back in overwhelming pleasure.

“Bub, eyes on me,” Logan coaxes, his fingers curling around the top of your thighs as they squeeze, keeping you apart and open, pliant under his touch, “keep ‘em on me.”

He hips still, waiting, watching—you peek your eyes open with a shy smile that is met with a smirk, his eyes brimming with warmth, nodding as you listen.

 “Right there, that’s good.”

You roll your eyes fondly, a flutter of your lashes as he pushes inside of you unexpectedly, a sharp and wild snap of his hips that pulls a surprised gasp from your chest, squeezing instinctively around him in response—again and again as your thighs press further and further in until he’s nearly at your chest, his knuckles grazing the underside of your breasts and you beg, tongue wetting your bottom lip as you speak.

“Don’t—please don’t hold back,” you plead—to some degree, he always did, shared mutant powers aside there was always a deep need in Logan’s psyche to protect and inadvertently to shield, “all of it—want all of you.”

As to seal the words with truth, your fingers slide over his hands gripped tightly at your thighs, keeping them still as your feet curl around the back of his thighs and pull him in. Deeper, tighter. Logan chuckles at the motion, almost taunting. There was a sensitivity to the spot where his claws pushed through, a warning of what was to come and like all the other softer, more receptive parts of him, the touch surges a sense of hot, angry need through his entire body.

Easy, his eyes read.

“I like it,” you admit with a gentle swirl of your hips to bring him back, followed by the slow angle and snap in response, “—lose control a little, Logan. Let it out.”

“That part of me—“ Logan begs, but there’s a quiet noise of disapproval from you, your eyes softer as you admire him.

“Is part of you,” you remind him, “and I—“ like an absolute menace, he penetrates hard, rubbing the sensitive swell of muscle inside of you that makes you dizzy, “fuck—I don’t need you to hide yourself.”

Logan goes quiet, contemplating but observant as his hands squeeze against the sound of surprise you make as he grazes your g-spot, a fist pressing against his groin that flattens out into your palm, feeling the flex of his muscles as he works himself inside of you.

“I wanna feel it, I need it to hurt,” You beg, his brows drawing in—pensive for a half-second before you can see the flip of a switch in his head, “you can lose control with me, Logan.”

He practically vibrates as the growl emits from his chest, watching his hands squeeze impossibly tighter before his claws are our, unsheathed before you and you can’t help but smile, a millimeter from splicing through skin that could never keep the memory of it and you run your finger along the base, the slight flicker of discomfort in his face that fades as you began to move against him again.

There was something about pain, that stinging feeling of a wound as the adamantium sliced through you, along the swell of your ribs and breasts, a trickle of blood falling from the cut before it disappeared—and instinctively, Logan’s hand settle away as he leans in and swipes the blood away with his tongue, eyes locked on your own and you quiver, mouth opening in a silent gasp.

He moans at the taste, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the action and to make matters worse, he speaks, blood on his tongue and teeth, “M’pretty sure she tastes even sweeter.”

His eyes flick toward your cunt, a whimper in protest at the loss of his cock as he slips out of you and sinks to his stomach in one fluid motion, his slick covered cock ruining your sheets as he drives his tongue inside of you, nose pressed against your clit as he satisfies the loss of him with more, claws dragging dangerously close to your hips, the tips of his claws pressing into the skin.

His tongue drags up to you clit, lapping up the mix of sweet slick and his own, your hands pressing over top of his to force the sharp edge deeper, slicing through your skin until you feel yourself on the verge of passing out, a small pool of blood gathering at your pelvis.

Your own fingers drag through the thick crimson, spreading it over his waiting mouth as he grins, a perfect picture of greed and pleasure as he dives back into your cunt, a hurried and overwhelming pace against your clit driving you over the edge within seconds, your orgasm crashing toward you far faster than you’re expecting as you cry out, hips lifting from the bed but not without a fight, Logan’s grip pressing you down into mattress to clean you up.

All of you.

He rises with a grin, brutish but charming as he kisses you, tasting yourself on him as your own blood smears your lips, giggling softly into his mouth.

“Inside,” Logan already knows, fist curling around his cock as he slips back inside of you, “—oh fuck, Lo—“

“Greedy girl,” He admonishes amorously and returns his hurried pace, claws sinking into your pillows and mattress, a sorry that would come later for the action but you needed him now, “gonna let me fill you full, huh?”

You nod jerkily, forehead pressed tight against his own as he huffs into your open mouth, a mingling of sacred noises between each other as his hips falter, a broken gasp falling from his lips as he snaps his hips once before he’s buried to the hilt, coming deep inside you cunt.

His claws retract synonymous with his climax as he settles against his now bare fists before he’s falling onto his back with a huff, looking like a fucked-out mess with his hair even more askew than it always it, blood drying at the corner of his mouth as you roll onto your stomach and grab for his hand, pressing a kiss to each knuckle with a soft smile, figuring you must be quiet the sight yourself.

“You have to stop worrying, Logan,” you remind him gently, dropping his hand to move closer, his arm extending and pressing against your back as you curl into him, your fingers tracing along his jaw as you speak to him, “that you’re going to scare me away.”

“You still have time to run,” He jokes lightly, but there’s a tinge of sadness to his tone and you shake your head with a quickly developing smirk.

“Only if you’re chasing after me,” You challenge, leaning forward to nip at his jaw, surprised when he returns the action as he buries his pith against your throat, rolling you onto your back with a laugh that bursts from your chest.

“That can be arranged, bub,” He promises, nosing himself into the sensitive spot behind your ear, “I’d sniff you out in seconds, anyways.”

-

divider creds: @saradika-graphics

[1800titz]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ᴘᴇᴛ ᴘ��ᴀʏ (ꜱᴏꜰᴛ)

ROLL OVER | boyfriend!Harry (couples costumes gone wild)

The dalmatian/fire fighter duo runs a little deeper in the bedroom after the party.

★₁₈₊

ROLL OVER as the final installment to the KINKTOBER projects. Based on this ask.

If you enjoy this, consider checking out my patreon masterlist, constantly being updated, with loads of exclusive content. If you would like to see the other KINKTOBER projects, do so here.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: couple's costume gone wild. pet play (soft). soft dom. praise. leashing. collars. use of "puppy" as a pet name (pun unintended). oral (f to m). dumbification. dom/sub undertones.

WC: 1.7K

“Yeah,” Harry breathes and shifts his hips with a subtle flex that nudges a little more of him past your lips, cradling you close by the shape of your jaw and petting his palm across your heated cheek. 

You swallow, nostrils flaring, and you let the congealed dust— of this particular disposition— across your lashes lure you under a little harder. Let it crush you under the soporific wave of its gravity. 

But you don’t miss the way he swallows, tugs a little harder on the polypropylene end of the dog leash wrapped taut around the knobs of his naked knuckles, and purrs, “Such a good girl, puppy.”

You blink up at him. At the unstilted paradigm of your insatiable hunger (eating, eating, still so hungry for him); bare stomach flexing, shoulders swelling, jawbone tucked and face ducked to watch you swallow around him. Watch and feel you work your little tongue in crescent shapes against the underside of his cockhead. 

You’re drooling. Slobbering, like a needy, little puppy, and your spit dribbles across between the wedges of your knuckles, where you cup him around the base and squeeze every time he throbs. 

It’s good. It’s really, really good.

He sprawls back against the chair but keeps his chin tipped. Staring down at you— the way your lips suction around him and the way your eyes pool under your fluttery lashes with a dew. Inkpools unwavering. Unrelenting. 

His shirt is discarded, so all his ink is on show. The way it breathes alive under the tension of his musculature, his rippling abdomen when you dip the tip of your tongue into the slit on his head; moving, dancing over his skin. 

It feels dirty. Borderline gaudily pornographic; you, on your knees in that careful nook between his split thighs, with his suspenders dangling across his lap. The big, utility boots on his feet, either side of your haunches. The pried zipper on a set of work trousers, slouching low on his hips, multi-faceted into a costume. 

He’s heavy on your tongue. Takes up too much room in your mouth. Leaking and throbbing when you duck your head to take him just a little deeper, a little more.

“Christ,” Harry murmurs. It sounds a little dark. Hardly over a whisper— you make a wet, ugly sound around him and blink back up. 

From your angle, there’s this pastiche of sovereignty to him. Like blue-collar regalia; half-shed firefighter’s rig, shape of his face chiseled in self-possessed stolidity—

Save for his eyes, the little cinch in his jawbone. The glint in the charcoal vats, the sharp carve your lips make, the way it wobbles when his teeth grind together a little harder. Your tongue seeps out over your lower lip when you take a deep breath through your nose, open wide, and take him nearly to the root. 

The sound that crawls out of Harry is so battered that all you can do is claw into the fabric on the apex of his thighs and let your eyes screw. 

His cockhead bludgeons at the gummy lining on the back of your throat, and you’re sure the phlegm is collapsing in little broken pieces like a mirror shattering under the weight of a hammer. Spuming out over his face in creases and rapture. But you can’t look. 

All you can do is try to swallow around him when the hand that was on the side of your face glues to the back of your crown, his fingers tangling into your hair. His knuckles bleach a little whiter with the strain of the leash, the way he holds you in place. 

(When his palm moves, it smudges one of the little tar-black spots you painted on with a brush, across your temple.)

You can hear that he’s groaning, pressing himself into you and folding praise in with the shape of his fingers scratching at the back of your skull. Things like, “Yeah— fuck— just like that, sweet girl,” in rich husks that simmer across your porous bones and trickle when your shoulders shake. When your toes curl under you. But he holds the leash a little tighter for the angle, and the makeshift collar around your throat gets a little more taut—

Really, it’s all his fault. 

Taunting, Can’t be my proper puppy without— the lead he delicately clipped onto the cheap, old hot topic choker you dug out of the closet to use as a collar. The way that he kept his knuckles wrapped over the handle and his knuckles in his pocket at the party. Toting you around like a pet, keeping you rooted to his side when he settled. Tucked to the swell of his massive shoulder. 

The way he told you to stay like a dog when he went off to refill your drinks, the way he patted your head upon return to find your soles glued to the same spot. Scratching behind your ear derisively, fingertips riling a shudder across your shoulders. 

Such a good girl, you are, saturated in artificial, satirical delight. Corners of his mouth curling, the jeer dripping off the corners of his eyes. 

(Here’s your treat.)

It started as a joke. Mocking for the sake of watching the heat froth under your skin, across your cheekbones, the ruckled bridge of your nose. Faux praises and the condescending gravity of the lead across the base of your neck. The subtle tug into an isolated pigeonhole of a docility that soaked across the crown of your head. 

The mushroomed ridges of his tip bludgeon a splutter out from between your sopping lips, and more saliva oozes out and trickles across your tacky, wet fingers. 

You need to hear it again, need to hear him say it, that itch festering in the noxious tangle of your arousal when you rise on your haunches a touch to duck your chin and press your nose to the wiry smattering of hair bedding around the root of his cock—

“Fuck,” Harry drawls. Guttural, heated—

Varicolored phosphenes fleck behind your lids like constellations in the yawn of a mesmeric, caliginous sky. 

“You’re so good, sweetheart,” he grunts, hums, hips tensing and canting up into the wet heat of your mouth like it’s an undiluted reflex to an itch, feeding his cock deeper— “Gonna cum down this pretty, little throat f’you keep sucking my cock like that.”

You rest both palms on his thighs. Twist your fingers into the fabric until it’s soggy with spit. Gag around the swell of him until he wrenches you back with his fingers under the collar, at your nape, and leaves you sputtering for air with your neck craned. When you blink your lashes apart, your eyes are wet. Bleary. Burning like the back of your tongue, the soft lining at the back of your mouth, where the only place left to cram further is down into your esophagus. 

He looks like a hedonistic cover page for a pornographic issue. 

The coarse strip of dark hair from his navel pools in the bed of curls nesting the hilt of his cock, and his thighs are split in this kingly way that makes you dizzy. It’s vertiginous, staring up at him from your knees. Meaty shoulders, one burnt umber curl hanging to eclipse an eyebrow, and his cock is so spit-slick. Wet, and shimmery, and stupidly thick, sealed in his fist. Throbbing. Your spit puddles off onto his heavy sack, the sodden fabric wrenched apart by the zipper, and you watch a little, pearlescent bead drool off the tip when he squeezes and twists his palm up. 

“Want it in your mouth?” Harry muses. It’s a subconscious maneuver; canting forward on the hinges of your joints with your swollen lips parted as he drags the pad of his thumb across the blurting pre-cum and smears it over his frenulum. “Want it bad, don’t you?”

The way he pulls on the end of the lead isn’t sharp. It’s subtle, but it corners you into nestling your mouth against his cock. Against the swollen shaft, cockhead pulsing and leaking out over the sloping bridge of your nose. 

“Beg,” he tells you. It’s soft. The wisp of a breath; a sigh when you smush your cherry mouth to the little vein that rides up the underside and turns baby blue beneath the crown. 

But it’s chock-full of the command given to an animal— beg, and I’ll give you a treat. It makes you sizzle down to your marrow. His lips curl loosely into a lazy grin. So debauched, around the shape of his cock, coated in your own saliva, pressed to your face. 

“Go on,” he smiles, “Let me hear you whine for it. Show me what a needy, little puppy you are.”

The words sink into your underbelly and leave your hands cresting for surface-purchase under the spindrift. They slip to his knees, and tangle into the fabric there as your lashes flutter. 

“Please,” you breathe, mouthing the word along the shape of his cock. Your lashes are still fluttering. Batting. You scootch forward a little, scratching into the firm muscle under the nomex, and let him smear his shaft across the tip of your nose, tarnishing the borders of the snout you painted on.

He hums. His thumb catches on the corner of your mouth, just as you start to paste an open-mouthed, suckling kiss onto the underside of the root. Your tongue smudges out against his sack. 

He’s unconvinced— you watch it in the way his brows notch, hear it in the rumble that stems from his chest when he grips his cock by the hilt and taps it against you. “Come on, baby. I know you can do a little better than that. Really work for it, hm?”

“Please,” you say, rocking your hips. “Want it bad. Wanna keep sucking you. Please, please.”

A hand tucks into your hair. The fingertips there scratch into the spot behind the shell of your ear softly, and the sensation draws a shudder over your shoulders. You feel on fire. Molten, under the weight of his gaze, the unresistant pressure on the lead, the patronization that trickles off his tone.

“Go on, then, puppy,” Harry murmurs, finally, and loosens the white-knuckled, taut grip on the leash enough for you to clamber back, “Take me back into your mouth.”

kinktober masterlist here. | general masterlist here. | patreon here.

TAGLIST: @aprlmuse @babegoals @cinnamonone @lolalovespeaches @flubblubbb

@ivegotthecinema @bxtchboy69 @iloveharrystyles04 @littlenatilda @witch-rry

@watermelonsugarslut @hs1thea @boystepper @carolinaskiwii @kathleengrg

@madstyles3204 @fruity-harry

[rafayelxsylusho]

Affinity level 125 Sylus ( my version of what I think happened )

If you haven't heard this please do yourself a favor and go straight to YT, thank me later 😊.

TW:SMUT

Sylusxmc

Heatwave

Who is it? he croaks, wincing at the pain in his sore throat. 

As he swings the door open, he finds himself face to face with none other than you.

"Oh it's you" he murmurs, his voice a low rasp.

"I already said no one was allowed to come in" He lets out a shuddering sigh, one hand coming up to rub at his sore, burning throat. "Some people are about to lose their jobs"

"It wasn't their fault Sylus, they did say you didn't want anyone to bother you" You say, your voice suddenly filled with concern.

"Mhhhh ,fine. You are an exception, but I don't like how you are trying to cover for them"

As you step into the dimly lit bedroom, Sylus walks over to his bed, once he sits on the edge of the bed his gaze is on you, intense despite his weakened state. The flickering firelight casts shadows across his chiseled features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the deep hollows of his cheeks. He looks pale, and there's a sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Come here" He pats the space beside him invitingly " I want to use your lap as a pillow"

He shifts, making room for you on the bed, the silk sheets cool and smooth beneath his touch

"Are you sick?" You ask as you take a seat beside him.

"Am I sick?" I'm gravely ill one might say" He shifts uncomfortably, the sheets rustling beneath him.

"Touch it" Sylus reaches out and grabs your hand firmly, guiding it to his forehead. The heat radiating from his skin is intense, his fever burning hot and fierce. "it's burning up" .

"How long will it take for you to get better?" your hand is now touching his cheek.

How long will it take?"he rasps out, his voice tight with discomfort.  "Won't be going away anytime soon"

"I didn't know you could get sick Sylus"

"What do you think? Of course I can get sick" He lets out a weak, breathless chuckle at your words.

"Be quiet for a bit" He says as he rests his head on your thighs, his fevered brow now nestled against the soft fabric of your pants. The heat radiating from his body is intense, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room.

"You know I'm kind of tired as well, do you want to lay down on the bed with me?" You whisper, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"Oh you are tired and wanna lay down on the bed?" He asks, then he takes a shuddering breath and says "ok"

As Sylus tries to stand, his legs tremble and buckle beneath him. He looks up at you," Hold me"  he rasps out, his voice barely above a whisper.

He leans heavily against you, his full weight pressing down on your smaller frame. You can feel the strain in your muscles as you try to hold him upright but it's clear that you can't support his considerable bulk for long. "You can't because I'm too heavy?" He lets out a weak, chuckle, his breath hot against your neck "I thought you were stronger than this"

You both tumble onto the bed, Sylus grunts in discomfort, his arms instinctively wrapping around you to keep you from falling off. He's on his back, and you're splayed out on top of him, your chest pressed against his. His heart beats rapidly beneath your touch, and his skin is flushed and burning with fever.

"Why did you plop down on me like that? I could have died" A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he raises a trembling hand to cup your cheek.

His hand slides down from your cheek to the back of your neck, gripping it possessively as he pulls you closer. Sylus's eyes darken with a sudden intensity, the feverish haze momentarily replaced by a flare of desire. "No... You want to take advantage of me after I use up all of my stamina" he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive rasp.

His other hand finds your hip, squeezing it firmly as he holds you in place. " Not bad...the assassins my rival sent couldn't even do this much"

His hands roam over your curves, squeezing and kneading the firm globes of your ass as he pulls you harder against him. Sylus's breath feels hot against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispers. "But most importantly, how could I forget that kittens are predators who enjoy toying with their prey" He nips at your earlobe, sending a shiver racing down your spine. "Especially ones that will struggle"

Your hand finds his hardening length through the thin silk of his pajama pants. His hips jerk up involuntarily at your touch, seeking more of that delicious friction. But as you start to stroke him, he lets out a pained grunt, his grip on your ass tightening. "Ouch....be gentle"

You start to move your hands away but he grabs your wrist and stops you " No I didn't ask you to move your hands"

You slip your hand inside his pajama pants, wrapping your fingers around his hard, throbbing length. He's already fully erect, his cock pulsing with need against your palm. "That's cool, that feels nice" his eyes fluttering shut as he loses himself in the pleasure of your caress.

"Did you take your medicine Sylus?" You stop stroking, waiting for an answer.

"Medicine? What are you talking about?"Sylus's brows furrow in confusion at your suggestion, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. "I'm not taking that"he scoffs, his voice a low, raspy growl. "It's bitter".

He squeezes his eyes shut, turning his face into the crook of your neck to escape the harsh light. A low groan rumbles in his chest as he rasps out "The lamp's too bright. Turn it off"

"But we won't be able to see anything" you say as you continue stroking him under his pajama pants.

"You can't see without it?...you don't need to see anything" he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive rasp in the darkness. 

" If you want me to get better..." His hand in your hair tightens, tilting your head back "mhhh" He rolls his hips up against your hand, the hard, throbbing length of his cock pulsing with need. "Cool me down yourself"

Sylus shudders as your other hand finds his forehead again, feeling the scorching heat radiating from his skin. He's burning up, his fever raging out of control. "I'll go get you an ice pack Sylus" but before you can move he grasps your wrists to keep you in place.

He lets out a weak, breathless chuckle "One ice pack?" His thumb brushes over your pulse point on your wrist "You are the ice pack"

Sylus's hips surge upwards, the thick, throbbing length of his cock grinding hard against your core through the fabric of your clothes "We should have done this earlier"

Sylus's hand slides under your shirt, his fingers seeking out the warm, soft swell of your breast. He cups the weight of it in his palm, his thumb finding your nipple and teasing it into a stiff peak. He rolls and pinches the sensitive bud, sending jolts of pleasure racing through your body.

He leans in closer, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he rasps out "ice is warm....I should use something else then"

Sylus's fingers make quick work of the buttons on your shirt, he parts the fabric, baring your skin to the dim glow of the fireplace. His eyes are hungry as they roam over your newly exposed flesh, taking in every inch of your curves with a possessive gaze.

He pushes the shirt off your shoulders letting it fall away completely, as he pulls you back down he notices a red stain on your neck "what this on your neck?" his fingers brushing over the blemish lightly.

"I was putting on lipstick and I probably smeared it on my neck" You say feeling his hand tangle in your hair, gripping it tightly as he pulls your head back, exposing your neck to him.

"You were putting on lipstick and it accidentally got on there?" Sylus leans in and presses his lips against the reddened skin of your neck, his mouth soft and warm. He places a gentle kiss right over the mark, his lips lingering on your flesh for a long moment. As he pulls back slightly, he murmurs against your skin " I won't believe that"

He leans in again, his tongue flicking out to lap at the reddened skin "your neck is warmer now that I kissed you"

His other hand slides down your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on the swell of your ass. He squeezes the firm globe, pulling your hips flush against his own as he grinds his hard, aching cock against your core.

Sylus can only watch how your eyes roll back in bliss. A wicked, satisfied smirk curves his lips as he sees your reaction, knowing that he's the cause of such intense pleasure. "You can't focus on anything huh?"

Sylus's hands find your breasts, cupping their soft weight as he kneads and squeezes them, feeling your nipples stiffen into hard peaks against his palms. He lowers his head, capturing one of the aching buds between his lips as he suckles greedily, his tongue circling and flicking over the sensitive flesh.

At the same time, his other hand continues to tease and play with your neglected nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger before giving it a sharp pinch, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to your core.

He grinds his hips against yours in a steady rhythm, the thick ridge of his erection rubbing against your clothed sex with each thrust.

" Your body is getting warmer" Sylus's hand slides down the front of your pants, his fingers finding your most sensitive spot through the fabric. He cups your mound possessively, feeling the heat of your arousal radiating against his palm. A low, approving growl rumbles in his chest as he realizes just how wet you already are, your panties damp and clinging to your folds. " This spot quickly warmed up too"

His other hand slides around to grip your ass, squeezing the flesh and pulling your hips harder against his own " Is it cool anywhere else?"

"This is all your fault" You say feeling closer and closer to the edge with each of his thrusts.

Sylus chuckles darkly at your breathless accusation, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement as he takes in the flushed state of your cheeks and the heaving of your chest. " Don't blame me, I'm the sick person here. This is how you treat sick people?" He punctuates his words with a sharp press of his fingers against your clothed sex, feeling your clit throb beneath his touch.

Sylus's fingers make quick work of the button on your pants, popping it open with a deft flick. He looks up at you, his crimson eyes blazing with intensity as he starts to tug down the zipper. As he does, he murmurs in a low, commanding tone" you already said you would take care of me, my requests are reasonable enough"

Sylus slides his hand inside your pants, his fingers immediately seeking out your most intimate area. He cups your clothed sex possessively, feeling the heat and dampness that has soaked through your panties. He rubs slow circles over your mound, his middle finger pressing down on your clothed clit, feeling it pulse beneath his touch.

" You are not a very good ice pack, you failed to cool me down and warmed me up instead" His voice is a low, seductive rasp as he murmurs against the skin of your neck.

Sylus watches, enraptured, as soft moans and gasps spill from your lips, your back arching off the bed as his fingers work magic on your sensitive flesh. " What's wrong, are you sick too?"His gaze is intense, almost feral, filled with a hunger that both thrills and terrifies you.

"Ohhhh, I wasnt using it correctly, I should be sweating it out instead of trying to cool down" Sylus leans down, his tongue tracing a searing path between your breasts before he latches onto one of your nipples. He suckles greedily, his lips and tongue working in tandem to drive you wild with pleasure. "Doesn't that make you perfect for this?"

He keeps rubbing your clothed sex with a steady rhythm. His fingers press and circle your clothed clit. "Very hot" his eyes are dark and intense as he watches your confused face "Of course I'm talking about you"

Sylus's other hand slides under your breast, feeling the heat and dampness of your skin. His fingers brush over the sweat beading on your flesh as he murmurs " There is sweat here" he gives your cunt a gentle smack "and that is all wet".

"Yeah, I'm still talking about you" he says looking up at you with a quirked eyebrow as you shake your head. He smirks, a wicked glint in his crimson eyes. "You don't think I am"

"I can prove it to you right here... right now" Sylus abruptly stops his movements, pulling his hands out of your pants. He sits back slightly, his intense gaze locked onto yours. With a smirk playing on his lips, he holds out his hand, palm up, and murmurs in a low, commanding tone "Give me your hand" you hesitate for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. "Don't be shy"

Slowly, you place your hand in his, your fingers brushing against his palm. Sylus uses his hand to guide yours under the waistband of your panties, his fingers interlacing with yours as he presses your palm against your bare, dripping sex. He rubs your fingers along your slit, coating them with your arousal. "When ice melts it's natural to be wet".

"Mhhhh but my temperature still hasn't gone down" Sylus wastes no time, inserting a single finger into your dripping heat. He watches your face intently as he pushes it deeper, feeling your walls clench and flutter around the invading digit. His voice is a low, seductive rasp as he murmurs "even with you moving around"

He pumps his finger slowly, his thumb circling and rubbing your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your core "You are not that good at getting rid of my fever"

Sylus leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers "as they say, one should make the most out of everything" he slides a second finger into your dripping sex, pumping them in and out at a steady rhythm. The sensation of being filled, even with just two of his fingers, makes your back arch off the bed, your hips jerking up to meet his thrusts. He watches your face intently, his crimson eyes gleaming with lust and satisfaction as he drinks in your reactions " So before you've completely melted" His fingers curl inside you, stroking along your inner walls, feeling your wetness dripping down to coat his hand. Sylus's voice is a low, seductive rasp as he murmurs " I won't stop".

[goblinontour]

Dublin In Ecstasy

you meet him in a pub…you end up painted by him

series masterlist

warnings: dom!al, smut, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public, piv, spanking (a bit), the word ‘daddy’ (once), alcohol, weed, blood, drool

word count: 5k

Dublin, 2018

The Dublin air was thick with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses as you stepped into the pub. It was the third one of the night, and already it felt like the right place to be. The interior was a mix of all different voices, the kind of comforting chaos that only a place like this could offer. You walked through the groups of people, each step filling you with a sense of excitement. It was nights like these that made your impromptu trip worth every penny.

Reaching the bar, you leaned in, trying to catch the bartender’s eye when a figure suddenly crashed into your peripheral vision. He almost collided with you, stopping himself just in time with his arms braced on the bar’s edge. His breath came in heavy, excited bursts, clearly having indulged in what a night like this had to offer. He ordered a round of drinks in a voice that cut through the noise, confident and commanding. Your eyes widened slightly as you took him in.

He was dressed pretty simple, but he didn’t need any more than that. A tight shirt, unbuttoned scandalously low, revealing glimpses of a chiselled chest. A black leather jacket hung casually over his shoulders, and his tight-fitting pants left little to the imagination. But it was his face that truly captivated you. The buzzcut he sported highlighted his sharp features, his cheekbones catching the dim, ambient light. A slight sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, giving him an effortless perfection. He was hot. Really hot.

You couldn't help but stare, your gaze tracing the angles of his face, the curve of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes as he surveyed the crowd, completely oblivious to your presence. It felt like time had slowed, every detail of his face imprinting itself in your mind.

Eventually, he glanced over, catching you in the act, red-handed. There was no denying as to what you were doing. A smirk played on his lips, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, his voice smooth and laced with slight amusement.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks but met his gaze steadily. “Just admiring the scenery.” you replied, matching his playful challenge.

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that seemed to resonate through the chaos around you. “Alex.” he introduced himself, extending a hand.

You took it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. “Nice to meet you, Alex.”

“Sooo…” he started, his voice turning like a singsong, clearly enjoying the state of his intoxication at the moment, “What brings you to Dublin?”

“Exploring, meeting new people, trying out all the different pubs…getting drunk.” you said with a shrug. “And you?”

“Same.” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Though I suppose I’m a bit more familiar with the scene.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Is that so? Any recommendations?”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke over the din of the pub. “Stick with me, and I’ll make sure you have a great night.”

The night was young, he was hot, and the promise in his words was just too tempting to resist. You nodded, a smile playing on your lips. “Lead the way, Alex.”

With a nod, he grabbed the tray of drinks he had ordered and gestured for you to follow. You wove through the crowd, following the leather-clad figure like a beacon. He led you to a booth crowded with people, all of whom greeted him enthusiastically. Him or the drinks. Probably the drinks. But it was clear he was well-known and well-liked here. He introduced you to his friends, who welcomed you warmly, their laughter infectious.

For a while, you simply enjoyed the company, the drinks, and the easy banter that flowed around the table. Alex, ever the charmer, kept the conversation lively, his sharp wit and roguish smile captivating not just you, but everyone in the group. It wasn’t long before one of the guys showed up with a whole bottle of champagne.

“It’s time to celebrate, come on!” Alex declared, grabbing you up with him from the booth and snatching the bottle from the hand extended towards him.

“What are we celebrating?” you asked, laughing as you stumbled along with him. But he didn't bother giving any more details, and you didn't care to ask.

He led you to a slightly clearer spot near the edge of the room, his grip firm and confident. With a flourish, he began to open the champagne, the cork popping free with a satisfying sound. He held the bottle at the level of his groin, the fizzing liquid bubbling out. The sight of him there, hands positioned just so, made your mind wander. You couldn't help but imagine him right in that position, his hands in the same place but while coming all over your face.

You must have given away your thoughts, because Alex's eyes flickered with a knowing glint. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear, and whispered, “I’ll do just that as soon as we’re alone.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. Oh, you knew you were in for more than just a good night.

After a little while, he suggested moving to another pub, and you found yourself agreeing without hesitation.

The streets of Dublin were alive with energy as you moved alongside him, each stop offering a new flavour of the city's vibrant nightlife. Alex’s presence was magnetic. He knew all the best places, all the hidden gems that you never would have found on your own.

At the particularly cosy pub you settled on, with dim lighting and just the right music playing in the background, you found yourselves sitting close, his arm draped over the back of your chair. The conversation turned slightly more personal, but he didn’t give away too much. Maybe that’s what made him so appealing in this moment.

“You’re quite the enigma yourself, you know.” Alex said, his eyes never leaving yours. “What made you decide to come here all alone?”

You smiled, taking a sip of your drink. “I wanted an adventure. Sometimes you just have to step out of your comfort zone, right?”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I get that. I’ve spent most of my life chasing that feeling. It’s what keeps things interesting.”

“And does it work?” you asked, genuinely curious.

He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours. “Meeting you certainly has.”

The words hung in the air between you, charged with the knowing thoughts that something more would eventually happen. You both knew it from the first moment you laid eyes on each other. The night was winding down, but you felt like it was just beginning. With a daring smile, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, and kissed him. Maybe it was a bold move, but the way he responded, his lips meeting yours with equal fervour, told you it was just right.

You could feel him smile into the kiss, the curve of his lips pressing warmly against yours. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you off your barstool and guiding you to stand between his spread thighs. His grip was firm, possessive, his fingers digging slightly into your hips.

He broke the kiss before it could get any deeper, his breath hot against your lips. “I think I’m gonna head back to my hotel.” he said, his voice low and rough. And so fucking sexy.

Confusion flickered in your eyes as he got off the stool and shrugged on his leather jacket, the piece settling perfectly over his broad shoulders. He took a step back, leaving you standing there, feeling the chill of his absence. But before you could question it, he reached out, his hand finding the small of your back. “You’re coming too.” he continued, his eyes locking onto yours with a promise that sent a shiver down your spine.

His hand on your back, almost too low, guided you through the pub and out into the cool night air. The pressure of his palm was tantalising, teasing, and you found yourself wishing it would slide just a little lower.

The walk to his hotel went by in a blur. Alex kept making teasing comments and giving you compliments that would have been way too forward from anyone else, but he pulled it off effortlessly. His confidence was intoxicating, each word making you smile and blush, adding to the excitement flowing through your veins. His hand stayed on your back, his fingers occasionally brushing against your skin, peeking between your top and skirt.

In the elevator, the atmosphere grew even more charged. Alex turned to you and, before you could react, he pinned you between his arms. The sound of his hands hitting the mirror on either side of you made you gasp, and then his lips were on yours, hot and demanding. The kiss was hungry, his tongue exploring your mouth with an eagerness that left you breathless. Your hands instinctively reached up, clutching at his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath his leather jacket. When he finally pulled away, you were left panting, your heart pounding as the elevator doors opened with a soft chime.

The room he led you into was huge and absolutely gorgeous, with panoramic windows lining the whole back wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city. The lights of Dublin spread out before you, mixing with the dazzling array of stars in the sky. It felt surreal, like stepping into a dream.

Alex walked over to the sofa in the sitting room area and sat down, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I wanna smoke, love, do you mind?”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t mind.”

He asked again, waving a joint in the air so you could see it. “You sure?”

“Go ahead.” you replied, your voice soft but certain.

For a few moments, you stood by the window, taking in the stunning view. The city lights cast a soft, ambient glow into the room, but soon, your attention shifted back to him, the real view you wanted to admire. Alex took off his jacket and threw it over the back of the sofa, the movement making his muscles flex. He stretched his arms up, showing just how big and defined they were, the motion pulling his shirt tighter against his chest and highlighting every contour of his physique.

The sight of him turned you on more and more with each passing second. He bent forward to grab the ashtray and brought it closer, his movements fluid. He grabbed his lighter and lit the joint, taking a long drag and inhaling deeply. He leaned back on the seat, throwing his head back over the edge as he exhaled the smoke into the room. The tendrils of smoke curled in the air, the scent mixing with the faint cologne he wore, a heady combination that made your pulse quicken.

“Come sit.” he told you, not even looking at you, just calling you over with an air of command.

You moved to sit next to him, but he tsked softly, shaking his head. With a gentle but firm touch, he guided you to sit on your knees in front of him, right in between his legs. You followed his lead, his forwardness. His eyes roamed over you, dark and precise, like he was trying to decide what he was going to do to you. He took another drag of the joint, his gaze never leaving yours, and you could feel the heat of his attention as it travelled over your body.

As he leaned forward, his free hand cupped your chin, tilting your head up slightly. “You look incredible down there.” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, and you instinctively parted your lips and welcomed it in your mouth.

He exhaled another plume of smoke, the scent intoxicating, before setting the joint aside for a moment. His hands moved to your shoulders, squeezing gently before sliding down your arms, leaving a trail of warmth and goosebumps in their wake.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice soft but commanding, “How far out of your comfort zone are you willing to go tonight?”

Your answer was a breathless whisper, your eyes locked on his. “As far as you want to take me.”

His smile widened, an almost predatory glint in his eyes. “Good.” he said, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer until you were pressed against him. “I’ll make sure your night is unforgettable.”

With that, he leaned in, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that was both possessive and tender. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a blazing path in their wake. He bit at your flesh, each nip sending waves of arousal coursing through you. His hands roamed your body, groping and squeezing in just the right places, his touch both possessive and teasing.

He pulled away for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and tugged at the tied straps holding your top up. The material loosened and slid down, exposing your bare chest to him. His gaze filled with desire as he took in the sight of you, his hands moving to cup your breasts.

His touch was firm, kneading your breasts in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. You could feel him getting hard beneath you, his bulge pressing insistently against you through his pants and your underwear.

With a wicked smile, he took one of your nipples between his fingers and twisted it harshly, making you gasp at the sudden intense sensation. The pain was sharp but quickly dissolved into pleasure, your body arching into his touch.

Then he slapped your both breasts from underneath, making them bounce, the motion drawing a low moan from your lips. He watched your reaction with a satisfied smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His hands guided you back down onto your knees before him, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You know what to do.” he murmured, his voice a sort of command. His hand moved to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “Let’s see what can get me higher.” he said as he grabbed the joint, lighting the end of it again.

You reached up to undo his pants, your fingers deftly working the button and zipper. Alex slumped lower onto the sofa, his body relaxing, a cloud of smoke curling around his head as he took another drag. You pulled his pants down, and he helped get them lower by raising his hips, allowing you to slip them down to his ankles. The sight of him sprawled out, so confident and at ease, made your heart race.

With a slow, deliberate motion, you unbuttoned the last couple of buttons holding his shirt together and pushed it to either side, exposing his entire chest. His body was a work of art, lean and muscular, each contour highlighted by the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the windows. His abdomen was taut, the muscles rippling slightly as he breathed. There was a slight patch of hair in the middle of his chest, a detail that had driven you crazy ever since you noticed it back at the first pub.

Your eyes travelled lower, taking in the clear shape of his cock through his boxers. He was hard, the outline of his length straining against the material, the sight of it making your mouth water. You reached out, running your fingers along the bulge, feeling the heat and hardness beneath the fabric.

Alex exhaled another plume of smoke, his head leaning back against the sofa, eyes half-closed in anticipation. His body was the perfect picture sensuality in that moment, everything defined and perfectly proportioned. His chest heaved slightly with each breath, and you could see the slight sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, adding to the raw allure of him.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, now heavy-lidded and filled with lust. “Don’t keep me waiting, love.” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

With trembling hands, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down, freeing his cock. It sprang free, hard and throbbing, the sight of it making your breath catch. You looked back up at him, your eyes meeting his, and he gave you a slow, wicked smile.

“Good girl.” he said, his voice a soft purr. “Give me your best.”

You pulled your legs together, seeking some relief from the ache building between them as his words drove you crazy. He noticed, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he continued to smoke, letting you get to work.

Your hands wrapped around his cock, feeling the weight of it in your palms as you began to stroke him. With a gentle tug, you pulled down on his foreskin, revealing the pinkish head, and leaned in to lick right at the slit, savouring the taste of the beads of precum leaking from it.

Taking him deeper into your mouth, you worked your tongue around the tip, circling it while your hands continued to stroke the rest. You kept a slow pace, building the tension and relishing the low groans of pleasure escaping from him.

After a while, you pulled off to spit on his cock, the sight earning a satisfied “Mhmm” from him.

A thought came back to your mind, so you decided to go ahead and ask. “What were you celebrating back there?”

He took a moment to reply, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as your hands still stroked his dick. “That I broke up with my bitch ex-girlfriend.”

Oh. “So, am I your rebound, then?” you asked, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

“Nah. I just thought you looked like a good fuck…no offence.”

You didn’t mind that. Not at all. His blunt honesty only fueled you. You continued licking at him, your eyes locked onto his, the connection between you intensifying. He watched you, the hunger in his gaze making your heart race even faster.

“Want some?” he asked, waving the joint towards you.

You didn’t say anything, letting him guide you. He grabbed your chin, holding your face right where he wanted it, and turned the stick to you, placing it between your lips so you could take a drag. You enjoyed the taste and the sensation as you inhaled, but before you could exhale, he pulled you back onto his cock, shoving it inside your mouth. The smoke escaped through your nostrils and swirled around his shaft, creating a heady, intoxicating mix of sensations.

His grip tightened in your hair, guiding your movements as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each stroke. The smoky haze around you added to the surreal intensity, heightening every touch and taste. Alex’s groans grew louder, his pleasure evident in every sound he made, encouraging you to keep going, to give him everything you had.

You felt his hips start to move, thrusting gently into your mouth, his control slipping as he got lost in the sensation. His hand tightened in your hair, holding you in place as he pushed deeper, his cock filling your mouth completely. You could feel his pulse, strong and insistent, matching the racing beat of your own heart.

Each time he pulled back, you could see the pleasure etched on his face, his eyes dark and focused on you. “That’s enough.” he murmured, his voice rough with need. With a firm grip, he picked you up, your legs on either side of his thighs as he sat you down in his lap. His hands were everywhere, pulling your skirt up over your ass and running his hands all over your exposed skin.

He hooked his fingers around the edge of your panties, pulling them to the side. His fingers trailed between your lips, teasing you with light touches before shoving them inside roughly. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, the sound of your juices flowing around his fingers echoing in the quiet room. “Wet,” he said with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, “Perfect.”

Alex removed his fingers completely, lifting you closer to his chest. Your breath hitched as he positioned his cock at your entrance, the head pressing insistently against you. He gave your ass a sharp slap, the sting sending a jolt of pleasure through you, and then another, each one making you tremble with anticipation.

With a single, powerful thrust, he drove himself inside you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made your head spin. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the fullness, his breath hot against your neck.

“Ride.” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper against your ear.

You began to move, at first grinding against him, savouring the way he filled you so deeply. The sensation of him inside you, so hard and thick, sent shivers of pleasure through your body. You could feel every vein on his cock rubbing against your inner walls, each movement delicious and intoxicating. His eyes were locked on you, watching you ride him slowly, too slowly for his patience.

His hands moved to your hips, gripping you tightly. “Fuck, you feel so good.” he groaned, his voice strained with need. He began to thrust up into you, hard and fast, each stroke sending shockwaves through you. The intensity built with every movement, his rhythm relentless and demanding.

Your body responded eagerly, your hips rolling to meet his thrusts, the friction igniting a fire within you. Your tits bounced against his chest, your nipples brushing against his skin with every rhythmic movement. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and his grunts, a mix of raw desire and need.

He was fucking you so hard, his movements almost punishing in their intensity. You kissed him messily, your mouths colliding in a wet, hungry kiss. In the desperation of it, you accidentally bit down on his tongue, not too hard, but enough to draw blood. He didn’t care, the pleasure far outweighing the pain. The metallic taste of his blood mixed with your saliva, a strange but perfect sensation in the heat of the moment.

He groaned into your mouth, the blood and spit mingling and running down both of your faces. His hands tightened on your hips, driving you down onto his cock with even more force, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

Your mind was hazy, lost in the overwhelming sensations and the primal connection between you.

“Fuck, Alex.” you moaned, your voice breathless and needy.

“Come for me.” he growled, his thrusts becoming even more urgent. “I want to feel you come all over my cock, can you do that?”

You nodded, your breath coming in ragged gasps, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. His words sent you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you. Your body convulsed around him, your cries of pleasure echoing in the room.

“Fuck.” he groaned, but his thrusts didn’t stop. He only slowed the tiniest bit as he got up with you in his arms, his cock still inside you. He stepped out of the trousers pooling at his feet and started walking with you to those huge windows lining the room.

He let you down there, and you couldn’t even stay up on your feet, nearly collapsing as your knees went weak and wobbly. He caught you just in time, his strong arms the only thing keeping you upright.

“Fucking- just turn around and fucking stand up.” he growled, pushing you against the window, your breasts sticking to the cold glass.

The sensation of being so exposed was thrilling. Even though you were high enough that almost no one could see you, there was still that chance. What if someone in a nearby hotel happened to look out at that moment and spotted you?

“Admiring the scenery?” he asked, shoving his dick back inside your cunt and fucking you from behind.

You just nodded, overwhelmed by his speed, your walls growing sore from all the friction. The pressure was intense, a blend of pain and pleasure that kept you on the edge.

He grabbed you by the hair, pulling harshly and making you look up at him as he looked down at you. “Hmm?” he continued.

“Yeah, I love this view.” you managed to gasp out, the words tumbling from your lips.

His eyes darkened with lust, a smirk playing on his lips. “Good.” he murmured, his thrusts never faltering. “Because I plan on fucking you until neither of us can stand.”

The intensity of his words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his movements, sent you spiralling into another wave of pleasure. The cold glass against your chest, the roughness of his grip in your hair, the fullness of his cock inside you. Fuck. All of it melded together and left you breathless.

With each thrust, you could feel him hitting deeper, the angle perfect and unforgiving. His breath was hot against your ear as he growled, “Come for me again, love. You’ve been so good.”

And you did, your body shuddering as another orgasm ripped through you. Your moans filled the room, mingling with his grunts of pleasure. The thrill of being so exposed, the idea that someone might see you in such a raw, vulnerable state, heightened the experience. Alex didn’t stop, his pace relentless, driving him towards his own orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” he groaned. His thrusts grew more erratic, his control slipping. Each powerful movement sent a sweet, sharp pain through you that left you gasping. “You like that, don’t you?” he growled, his voice a low, dirty whisper. “You like being fucked like this, don’t you?”

“Yes.” you moaned, the word escaping your lips without thought. “Yes, I love it.”

“Fucking slut.” he hissed, his hand sliding from your hair to grip your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse race. “Let’s make that little dream of yours from earlier come true then, hmm?”

You knew exactly what he meant, and you couldn’t wait. His words, his touch, the relentless drive of his cock inside you. It was all too much. You could feel another orgasm building already, the intensity of it almost frightening. Alex sensed it too, his movements becoming even more purposeful, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you that made you see stars.

“I’m so good to you, aren’t I?” he urged, his grip on your throat tightening slightly. “It’s your turn to make me come, don’t ruin it.”

The command in his voice pushed you over the edge. You came hard, your body convulsing around him, your screams muffled against the glass. Alex didn’t stop, riding out your orgasm, his own release imminent.

As he felt himself getting close to the edge he whispered in your ear. “Daddy’s gonna give you a big reward now.”

He pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness. He quickly turned you around and pushed you down onto your knees, his grip firm. The urgency in his movements made your heart race with anticipation. You looked up at him, your eyes wide and filled with desire, your tongue out, begging like the obedient whore you were for him in this moment.

The sight of you, so eager and ready, pushed him over the brink. He stroked his cock furiously, his eyes locked onto yours, watching as you waited so prettily for his cum. His breaths came in harsh pants, his muscles tensing as he neared his orgasm.

With a deep, guttural groan, Alex came, his release hitting your face in hot, thick spurts. He grounded himself by extending an arm to the window behind you, his muscles taut and straining as he let go completely, his pleasure evident in every tremor of his body. The sheer intensity of his orgasm left him momentarily breathless, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched his cum paint your skin.

You could feel the warmth of his cum dripping down your cheeks and chin, the scent and taste of him overwhelming your senses. It was filthy and raw, and you loved every second of it. His groans of satisfaction echoed around you, mingling with your own soft moans as you revelled in the feeling of being claimed so completely.

Alex's breathing gradually slowed, and he finally let go of the window, his body relaxing as he came down from his high. He looked at you, a satisfied, possessive glint in his eyes as he took in the sight of you, covered in his cum and looking utterly wrecked.

“Fuck, you look perfect like that.” he murmured, his voice still rough and breathy. He reached down, his fingers brushing gently over your cum-streaked cheek, smearing it further. “Such a good girl.”

You smiled up at him, the thrill of his praise sending a fresh wave of warmth through you. “Thank you.”

He helped you to your feet, pulling you close for a tender, lingering kiss. The contrast between the roughness of moments before and the softness of his kiss now made your head spin.

“Can I clean up?” you asked softly, your voice still a bit shaky.

Alex smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. “Not yet.” he replied, his tone teasing. “I like seeing you like this. Just a little longer.”

You laughed softly, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and confidence. “Okay.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands cupping your face gently. “It’s no use anyway,” he said, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, “Because I'm not done with you yet.”

a/n: i wrote another fic that could be considered a sequel to this, ‘Daddy Came Home’

based on this request

special mention to @thenightslikeawhirlwind for suggesting bald!al for this <3

tags: @4chaos @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @ohladymoon @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @feyasgotgroove @aacheinthejaw @hellcatshalalalaa @zayndrider @humbuginmybones

[campingwiththecharmings]

Some Like it Hot (2)

AN: HIIIII. Right. So. Part one is here. This...diverted quite a bit from what I had originally intended but, I can't say that I'm too mad about it. 🤭 This has very little to no plot, negl.

(Un-beta’d)

Poe is your muse and you can't help but see the beauty in everything he does.

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 1,481 Pairing: Firefighter!Poe Dameron x Photographer!F!Reader Warnings: PWP, smuffy af, p in v, idiots in love, morning sex, please let me know if i missed anything. AO3

——————

You wake gently, the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains, filling the room with its glow. You smile, eyes fluttering as you stretch, allowing yourself to sink into the mattress a little. The sheets rustle beside you as Poe shifts, drawing your gaze. You take a moment to study him, splayed on his belly, your eyes tracing the soft curve of his lips, the sharp cut of his jaw, smooth brow, and stubbled cheeks. He’s a work of art, really. Just…stunning. Every inch of him is perfect, as if he’d been chiseled from a block of marble by the gods themselves. And if that wasn’t enough, he also had a heart of gold. Never in your life have you met someone so kind and caring, so ready and willing to help others. 

You’d started dating almost immediately after your encounter at your studio (quite literally that same evening), and now here you are, months later waking up with him in your bed. Maybe it’s strange but you love watching him sleep, love to watch the light from the windows play over his bare skin, love to study the way his short curls fall across his forehead. The artist in you longs to capture this moment, and you can’t help but give in. Silently, you reach over to the bedside table and grab your phone, quickly swiping the camera app open and pointing it at him. You take a few moments to get the angle just right, then click the shutter button. 

He knows, of course, knows your gallery is full of photos of him (and occasionally, him and you). That’s not to say that he really gets it though, how inspired you are by him. As far as he’s concerned, he’s just a regular guy. He’s supportive though, indulging your fascination.

Unable to help yourself, you roll toward him, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips. He stirs almost immediately, his full lashes fluttering as he opens his warm, brown eyes. You smile at him, pushing your fingers through his mussed curls.

“Morning,” you greet, your voice soft as you rouse him from sleep.

He returns your smile, eyelids heavy as he shifts and rolls onto his side to face you.

“Morning,” he says, his voice rough with sleep. 

His eyes drop to the phone still in your hand and his lips quirk in amusement. “Taking creeper shots of me again?”

You chuckle at his teasing, your cheeks warming. “Guilty.”

He grunts, reaching over and plucking the device from your grasp. “My turn.”

“No, stop,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands. “I haven’t even washed my face yet, come on.”

He tsks, grabbing your hands and playfully pushing them away. “You got me, only fair that I get you.”

You groan theatrically, pouting at him as he sits up and quickly your phone into position. “Yeah but, I’m not you.”

He snorts, the click of your shutter reaching your ears. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Suddenly, you lunge, kicking the blankets away to free your legs and arms. He chuckles, moving the phone out of your reach. 

“Not all of us are as photogenic as you, Poe, just—give it back.”

He rolls onto his back laughing, your phone still clutched in his hand. “A photographer who doesn’t like getting their picture taken. Aren’t you a cliche?”

You growl, crawling over and up his torso, arm outstretched as you reach again for your phone.  “Shut up.”

His laughter becomes muffled as your chest presses against his face, the vibration sending a tiny shiver down your spine. You rise up slightly on your knees, the hand not reaching for your phone braced on his muscled shoulder. His free hand comes to rest on your lower back, steadying you as you reach. 

When you finally manage to take your phone back, he doesn't put up much of a fight, instead taking the opportunity to pull you even closer with his other hand. He nuzzles your breasts through your t-shirt, your breath hitching when his nose bumps against your nipple.

“You had ulterior motives, I see,” you breathe, the fingers of your free hand tangling in his hair as his hands slip down and underneath your shirt.

He chuckles, moving his face back from your chest as he pulls your shirt up and over your head. His hands slide up to your shoulders once you’re bared to him, his eyes meeting yours as he leans in to take your nipple in his mouth. Your lips part in a gasp, your fingers tightening in his curls, and he groans at the slight sting of his scalp. The vibration makes your hips jolt against him, your body instinctively seeking friction as desire quickly wells inside you.

You sigh his name as he releases your nipple, mouthing his way over to your other breast to lavish the same attention. 

“So beautiful,” he mumbles, flicking the tip of his tongue against the pebbled flesh before sucking it into the molten heat of his mouth.

Your head falls back with a moan, your phone slipping from between your fingers and landing on the plush comforter of your bed. Poe’s hands slide down to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he encourages you to keep grinding against him. You can feel the hardness of his cock even through the thick fabric of his pajama pants, your need for him growing. He groans as you move, pulling back from your chest, the absence of his mouth dragging your gaze back to his. You swallow hard, the combination of lust and awe in his eyes making goosebumps rise on your skin.

He pulls your mouth back to his then, licking into it languidly, as if he has all the time in the world. You melt into him, your bare chests pressing together as you wind your arms around his neck. You let yourself get lost in his kiss, in the soft, wet slide of his lips as they brush against yours. It feels like you’re drowning, drowning in a sea of bliss, a sea where Poe is your only lifeline.

Poe slips his fingers beneath the edge of your panties, his thumb briefly circling your clit as he slips the others lower. He works you open gently, your cries of pleasure muffled by his lips and tongue. He brings you to your peak quickly, drawing out your pleasure with each pump and flick of his fingers.

You share a moan when you finally sink down onto his length, your slick heat welcoming him, engulfing him. He pulls your mouth back to his as you begin to ride him, your body rising and falling shallowly at first. His hand on your hip helps to steady you as you gradually increase your pace, your hands braced on his shoulders. 

“Poe,” you whine, throwing your head back as you chase the pleasure racing through you. “Feels so good—fuck, so good.”

He groans as he watches you, his eyes almost black with desire. “You feel like a dream, sweetheart. So beautiful like this.”

A shiver races through you at his words, at his attention. He’s always like this, so present, making you feel so desired, like there’s no one else he’s ever wanted so badly as you. He pulls you close, pressing his forehead against yours as you race toward your release, groaning as you move and clench around him. You moan when his thumb finds your clit, his touch bringing you even closer to the edge.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he breathes, pushing his hips up from the bed every time you sink down onto him again. “Take what you need.”

A few more thrusts and you’re there, body going taught, mouth slack, as you sail over the edge. His moan is broken as you fall apart around him, your body squeezing him, trying to take him with you. He spills himself deep inside you with a groan moments later, his hips stuttering with the force of his release. 

You stay like that for a while, just wrapped around each other, his softening cock still sheathed inside you.  It’s comforting, having him this close, feeling this connected to him. Poe strokes your back soothingly, leaning in to press a soft kiss against the corner of your mouth. You smile, winding your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning across your skin as he melts into you.

“You working today?” you ask, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

He makes a noise, then shakes his head. “Nope. I’m all yours today, baby.”

You chuckle, eyelashes fluttering as he presses a hot kiss against the side of your neck. “Mmm, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notification

[abbabycchio]

Can we have headcanons of Jotaro x fem!reader having a soft Sunday? Maybe doing lazy things and soft sex? :3

Your eyes flutter open, senses gradually waking with you. The first thing you register is strong arms wrapped around your waist, comforting and warm holding you close against a firm chest. A deep, even breath tickles your neck as weight shifts slightly behind you. Jotaro nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Morning stubble scrapes deliciously against your cheek.

Peeking up, you take in the sight of his face - sharp features relaxed in sleep, long lashes fanning out over chiseled cheeks. A lock of dark hair falls across his forehead. Gently you brush it back, tracing the line of his jaw.

Jotaro stirs with a soft groan, pale blue eyes cracking open to meet yours. A slow, sleepy smile spreads across his lips.

"Morning, beautiful," he murmurs, voice still husky with sleep.

"Mmm, good morning," you purr, trailing two fingers along his chest. "Sleep well?"

"Like a baby. You?" He sighs and pulls you closer as he stretches his arms down.

"Perfect." You lean in for a languid, tender kiss. Not sure if you were talking about sleep or his figure.

Jotaro hums contentedly, one hand sliding down to cup your rear through the thin fabric of your pajamas "How about we make this morning even better?"

Your smile turns wicked. "Ready for round two?"

Jotaro cracks a wicked grin and pulls you quicker to his lips when he notices you sit up to straddle his hips. Your lips glide against each other the only sound, small gasps between you. Peppering his jaw and throat with kisses, Jotaro's hands roam your curves appreciatively.

"Jotaro," You breathe, his name a reverent whisper against his lips. "I need you."

A low growl rumbles in his chest. In one smooth motion, he flips their positions, pinning her beneath his larger frame. Her legs automatically fall open, cradling his hips.

"Greedy girl," Jotaro teases, nipping at her earlobe. "Not that I mind."

He captures her mouth in a searing kiss, tongue delving past her parted lips to taste her thoroughly. She arches into him, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure ignites her nerve endings. Breaking the kiss, Jotaro sits back on his haunches to divest them of their clothing before they're bare and slick with sweat. His piercing blue eyes rake over her appreciatively, taking in the sight of her flushed skin and heaving breasts. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he rasps. You flush deeply at the praise, arousal pooling hot and heavy in your stomach. "Jotaro...please.”

Jotaro's eyes darken with lust at your breathy plea. He chuckles, stroking your slick folds with his calloused fingertips. The sensation makes you gasp and buck into his touch. He circles your sensitive pearl, drawing out shivers of bliss that wrack your body. Juices coat his fingers as he works you higher.

"Jotaro! Please, I need more.”

With a smirk, he lines himself up and thrusts deep in one smooth stroke. You cry out, inner walls fluttering around his thick length. He sets a hard, driving pace, fucking into you relentlessly. Their bodies move together in a dance of passion, skin slapping against skin. Jotaro changes the angle, hitting that special spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes.

"That's it, take it just like that. So fucking perfect," Jotaro growls, sweat dripping down his temples.

She clings to him desperately, nails scoring down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. ‘She's so close, wound tight like a coiled spring.’ He thought to himself amused.

"Jotaro! J-just like that! Don't stop! I'm gonna!"

Her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave, pleasure whiting out her vision. She comes undone with a scream of ecstasy, inner muscles clamping down rhythmically on Jotaro's pistoning cock. He continues his restless pace losing himself as he follows her over the edge with a strangled groan, spilling deep inside her with powerful pulses. Jotaro collapses on top of her, both of them panting harshly as aftershocks roll through them.

For a long moment, they simply bask in the hazy afterglow, hearts pounding in sync. Jotaro presses a tender kiss to your sweaty brow.

“Luh you”

"What was that," You sigh and giggle surprised to finally hear the choked out words.

“Mm” Jotaro grumbles, “yare yare, c’mon don’t mess around now.”

You tip your head back and meet his beautiful crystal eyes, “I love you too, grumpy.” You smile and peck his lips, swiping his chin affectionately as you both pull away.

[legendary-69420]

Shadows of the Past 1 : The premiere

Chapter 13 : Part 1

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 3 )

racing hearts

Warnings : Somewhat NSFW

A/N : I may have gone kinda wild while writing. Upcoming chapters are gonna be as unhinged as this

The premiere of Gladiator II was nothing short of spectacular, but Charles could barely notice the grandiose decor, the flashing lights of cameras, or the sea of celebrities flowing into the venue. His eyes were glued to one man.

Mark Spencer.

He was a vision of pure temptation. Draped in a sleek, perfectly tailored black suit that hugged his frame like it had been stitched by a god, Mark walked as if the world belonged to him. His broad shoulders, his taut chest framed by the sharp lapels, and his long legs that seemed to go on forever—it was criminal, absolutely criminal.

He’s your best friend. He’s your best friend.

Charles chanted the mantra like a sacred spell, but it wasn’t working. Not tonight. Not when Mark looked like that. The smooth line of his jaw, his tousled hair that somehow managed to be effortlessly perfect, and the way his smile struck like lightning whenever he turned to speak with someone—it was too much.

The flash of cameras didn’t help. Every angle captured Mark’s otherworldly beauty in high definition, each photo highlighting that chiseled face and radiant smile. The paparazzi might as well have been in love with him too. Click. Flash. Click. Flash. Every half a second, a burst of light immortalized the man Charles could barely stand to look at right now. Not because he didn’t want to—but because he wanted to too much.

Charles felt his face heat up, and for the first time in years, he had to resist the urge to adjust his pants in public.

"He’s your best friend. He’s your best friend," he muttered under his breath.

But the thoughts that plagued him weren’t friendly. They weren’t pure, either. Oh They were unholy, carnal, and vivid. The way that suit clung to Mark’s waist made him wonder what it would be like to grip it. The way the collar framed his neck made him want to press his lips right there. And his smile—oh, that damn smile. Charles wanted to be the reason it curved like that. The intrusive thought of pinning Mark to the wall and devouring him with kisses shot through his mind, and Charles clenched his fists.

He looked down at Mark's pants which were showcasing his perfect and front. He wondered what it would be like to move his hand over Mark's body and the f-

He’s your best friend!!!

He had to get it together. This wasn’t some fantasy. This was real life.

“Charles!” an interviewer called, snapping him from his thoughts. Charles blinked rapidly, forcing himself to focus. “What do you think of the new movie? Excited to see it?”

“Ah, oui! Of course,” he said with a grin, eyes darting to Mark. “I’m very excited.”

The interviewer chuckled. “Seems like you’re distracted, Charles. Is it the movie, or is it the man beside you?”

Before Charles could respond, Mark, being Mark, leaned in with a playful grin. “Oh, you’ve noticed, huh? Can’t blame him. I’m distracting, aren’t I?”

The interviewer burst into laughter, and Charles’ face burned with a mix of amusement and frustration. His jaw tightened as he glanced at Mark, who gave him the most innocent smile—except it wasn’t innocent at all.

Another interviewer approached, and Mark greeted them with his usual flair. The moment they asked him a question, Mark’s eyes lit up with mischief.

“Who do you think had the best look on the carpet tonight?” the interviewer asked.

“Well, I mean, look at me,” Mark said, gesturing to himself from head to toe. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t me.”

The interviewer laughed, and so did Charles, but his laughter felt strained. He wanted to roll his eyes but couldn’t. Not when Mark looked like this. Not when his confidence was so intoxicating. Charles could practically feel the eyes of everyone in the crowd following Mark like he was a rare constellation.

Then it happened.

Paul Mescal walked into the interview like he owned the world, clapping both Charles and Mark on the shoulder. “These two, huh? Look at them. Stealing all the attention tonight,” Paul said with a cheeky grin.

Charles' eyes darted to Mark, and for just a moment—a fraction of a second—Mark’s posture changed. His smile stiffened. It was so subtle that no one else would have caught it, but Charles knew him too well. The air shifted. Mark recovered quickly, shooting Paul a dazzling smile as if nothing had happened, but Charles knew something had.

What was that? he wondered.

The three of them joked and bantered, but Charles could feel the tension under the surface. It buzzed like static electricity.

“Let’s get a photo,” Paul said, pulling them close for a selfie. Charles felt Paul’s arm settle on his shoulder, fingers pressing just a bit too firmly. But it wasn’t Paul he was focused on. It was Mark.

“He’s your best friend. He’s your best friend.”

But it was getting harder and harder to believe that.

Days Later: Ferrari HQ

Charles was chatting with Paul at Ferrari’s headquarters, sharing a laugh over some random story. They’d bonded over the last few days, mostly through shared PR stunts and social media antics. Charles liked Paul, but it wasn’t until Mark walked in that things shifted.

Mark's arrival was like a gravitational pull. People turned. People stared. Paul stopped talking mid-sentence, and Charles caught the subtle shift in the way Paul’s eyes followed Mark.

Again, that look. Subtle, but there.

Paul smiled too wide. “Mark! Man of the hour,” Paul said, stretching out his arms as if for a hug. “We missed you at the last event.”

“I’m sure you did,” Mark replied with a grin, but his eyes never quite reached Paul’s.

Charles raised a brow. He didn’t know the story behind them, but something was definitely going on. What is the situation? A falling out? He didn’t know, but he was going to find out.

“Hey, Mark,” Paul said as he leaned closer. “Still stealing all the attention, huh?”

Mark’s grin widened, but his eyes flickered to Charles for just a second too long. “You know me, Paul. I never have to steal it. It’s given freely.”

The tension was thick as honey. Charles felt it. So did the people around them.

Fan Reactions Online

@F1Fanatic32: “Paul talking to Mark so casually? I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.”

@BestieForFerrari: “Mark doesn’t even need to star in Gladiator II to be the main character. LOOK at him.”

@CharlesxMarkStan: “Is it just me, or did Mark’s whole vibe shift when Paul showed up? 👀👀”

@RacingHeart93: “Charles is too quiet around Paul and Mark. We know why, King. We know why.”

@Charkshippersunite: "MARK TALKING TO PAUL SO CASUALLY? I DON'T LIKE IT 😡"

@Sexy_men: "Charles checking Mark out during the interview while Paul bites his lip. I’m unwell."

@Marksprotector: "Paul’s been hanging around Ferrari too much lately. Sir, step AWAY from Mark."

@Unemployed_f1fan: "I’m living for the Mark x Charles x Paul love triangle, but also… Paul, I’m watching you. 😅"

@F1_fangirl: "Did anyone else notice how Mark’s vibe shifted when Paul showed up? Is this… an ex situation?"

Charles read the comments later that night, his eyes narrowing at his phone. An ex? No, there’s no way. Mark would have told him if he had history with Paul… right?

Then, another comment caught his eye.

@Marlos4ever: "Not me sensing tension between Paul and Mark. Someone’s hiding something."

Charles sat back, his mind replaying the events of the premiere. Every glance, every microexpression, every second Mark spent with Paul felt like it had been magnified. For the first time, he felt like an outsider watching something he wasn’t supposed to see.

The realization hit him hard again for like the 4572078th time.

He wanted to be something more to Mark.

(dividers by @omi-resources & @enchanthings-a)

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Blind Betrayal

| Paladin Danse x SS!reader

warning: slight angst with some fluff as it follows his storyline!

The walls of the Prydwen’s command deck were suffocating, the air heavy with tension and judgment. SS stood in front of Elder Maxson, their heart pounding in their chest as they tried to process the words that had just left his mouth.

“Paladin Danse is a synth,” Maxson said, his voice a steely blade cutting through the silence. “A product of the Institute, hiding among us as a spy, a traitor.”

They couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The words felt like a bullet to the chest, each one more impossible to believe than the last. Danse, a synth? It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t make sense. Danse had been their steadfast companion since the beginning, a man of unwavering loyalty and conviction. He was the embodiment of everything the Brotherhood stood for, wasn’t he?

Elder Maxson’s gaze didn’t waver as he continued. “This is a betrayal of the highest order. The Institute has manipulated us, infiltrated us, and Danse whether knowingly or not has been a part of that. He must be eliminated.”

SS finally found their voice, though it felt weak and unsteady. “You’re ordering me to… to kill him?”

Maxson leaned forward, his expression unrelenting. “Do not think of this as a personal matter, Knight. This is about the survival of the Brotherhood. Danse is a danger to us all. He must be dealt with immediately.”

Their mind raced, a thousand questions and emotions colliding at once. “And if I refuse?”

Maxson’s lip curled, his patience thinning. “You swore an oath to the Brotherhood. If you refuse, you will be considered complicit in his treachery and will be dealt with accordingly. Am I clear?”

The room felt as though it were spinning, the cold metal walls closing in around them. They swallowed hard and nodded, the motion automatic and detached. “Yes, Elder Maxson. Understood.”

The air outside the Prydwen was harsh and biting, the wind whipping against their face as they descended the ramp. They clutched their laser rifle tightly, though their grip was more out of habit than necessity. Each step felt heavier than the last, the enormity of what they’d been ordered to do pressing down on them like a physical weight.

Danse was hiding in a remote bunker, his location shared with them by one of Maxson’s operatives. It wasn’t far—a short vertibird ride to the wilderness just outside Listening Post Bravo. The journey passed in a blur, the thrum of the engines doing little to drown out the storm in their mind.

When they arrived, they disembarked alone, their boots crunching against the frost-covered ground. The bunker was nondescript, a squat building nestled against the side of a rocky hill. Its entrance was marked only by a rusting steel door, faintly lit by the pale glow of the overhead lamps.

Taking a deep breath, they approached, their fingers trembling as they punched in the access code Maxson had provided. The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior. The air inside was damp and stale, and the faint hum of a generator echoed through the narrow corridor.

Danse was waiting for them in the main chamber. He stood without his power armor, his broad frame towering in the low light. Without the imposing bulk of the T-60 plates, he looked more vulnerable, though no less commanding. His muscular form was clad in a simple Brotherhood jumpsuit, the snug fabric showing the strength of his build—broad shoulders, powerful arms, and a chest that rose and fell heavily as he watched them approach.

He looked impossibly tired, dark shadows under his brown eyes. His jaw was clean-shaven, revealing the sharp, chiseled angles of his face. His short, dark hair was slightly tousled, no longer perfectly groomed as it had always been in the field. For all his weariness, his posture was still straight, his bearing still noble, even in the face of what awaited him.

When he saw them, his expression hardened, though there was no hostility in his gaze. Only resignation.

“You’ve come,” he said, his deep voice steady despite the circumstances. “I knew Maxson would send someone. I didn’t expect it to be you.”

They froze, unsure of how to respond. The sight of him, so raw and unguarded, made their heart ache. This was Danse, the man who had been their anchor through the chaos of the wasteland. How could he be anything else?

“I…” They hesitated, their voice faltering. “Danse, is it true? Are you…?”

He nodded solemnly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I am. A synth. An abomination created by the Institute.” He spoke the words as though they were poison on his tongue. “Elder Maxson’s orders are clear. I am to be terminated.”

“Stop,” they interrupted, their voice trembling. “Just… stop.”

He frowned, his brows furrowing deeply. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it for my sake, Knight. I know what I am, and I know what must be done. I only ask that you make it quick.”

“Danse, I—” They faltered, the weight of the moment pressing down on their chest. “I don’t understand. You didn’t know you were a synth, did you?”

“No,” he admitted, his voice heavy with shame. “I didn’t. My memories… my convictions… they all felt real. I believed in the Brotherhood, in our mission, with every fiber of my being. But now I see it was all a lie. A machine can’t believe in anything. A machine can’t feel.” He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I betrayed the Brotherhood just by existing. And I betrayed you.”

“You didn’t betray me,” they said fiercely, stepping closer. Their hands trembled at their sides, but they didn’t dare reach for him. Not yet. “Danse, you didn’t ask for this. None of this is your fault.”

He turned away, his shoulders slumping. Without the armor, he seemed smaller, the weight of his self-loathing bearing down on him. “Fault doesn’t matter. I am what I am. And what I am is a threat to everything we stand for.”

They took another step forward, their voice softening. “What about what we’ve been through? Everything we’ve done together—was that a lie too?”

His head snapped up, his eyes meeting theirs. For a moment, he seemed to falter, the carefully constructed walls around him cracking. “No,” he said hoarsely. “None of it was a lie. Every battle, every mission… every moment we spent together was real to me. But that doesn’t change what I am.”

They felt a lump rise in their throat. “And what are you, Danse? Tell me.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I am a machine,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “A soulless construct built to mimic humanity.”

They shook their head, their voice rising with emotion. “No. You’re more than that. You’re Danse. The man who’s fought by my side, who’s risked his life for mine, who’s always put others before himself. That’s who you are.”

“Why are you saying this?” he asked, his voice breaking. “Why are you defending me? I don’t deserve it.”

“Because I love you,” they said, the words spilling out before they could stop them.

Danse froze, his eyes wide with shock. For a moment, it seemed as though the world had stopped, the silence between them deafening.

“You… what?” he finally managed, his voice unsteady.

“I love you,” they repeated, their voice trembling but resolute. “I don’t care what the Brotherhood says, or what Maxson thinks, or even what you think you are. To me, you’re not a machine. You’re the man I trust with my life. The man I—” They broke off, their voice catching on a sob. “The man I can’t lose.”

He stared at them, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, his broad hands lifting to cup their face with a surprising gentleness. His touch was warm, his calloused fingers trembling slightly.

“You… love me?” he whispered, as if the words were too foreign to comprehend.

They nodded, tears streaming down their face. “Yes. I love you, Danse. I always have.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, he simply stared at them, his gaze filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief. Then, before either of them could second-guess it, he leaned down and kissed them.

The kiss was tentative at first, his lips brushing against theirs as if afraid they might break. But when they didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his arms wrapping around them as though he never wanted to let go. They melted into him, their hands clutching at the fabric of his jumpsuit as they poured everything they couldn’t say into the kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But I swear, I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of your love.”

They smiled, their fingers brushing against his cheek. “You don’t have to prove anything, Danse. You already are.”

In that moment, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of them.

[melodygatesauthor]

For Your Entertainment

Poe Dameron X f!Reader

Not Beta Read - Requested by @campingwiththecharmings

Kinks - Exhibitionism + First Time

Summary

Poe Dameron, Commander of the Resistance, finds himself in the hangar while his crewmates celebrate a recent victory in the cantina. He needed to relieve himself, but he can't help the feeling that he's being watched...

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, first time relates to reader's first time seeing a peen, public masturbation.

Word Count: 900

Poe couldn’t help himself, shameful as it might’ve been, he needed to take care of the aching in his cock. That’s why he was in the hangar so late at night with a firm fist dragging over his weeping erection while everyone else celebrated their recent victory in the cantina. Everyone except for you.

You had stepped away, feeling a little buzzed and tired from all the commotion. It had been a long day, and you were ready to turn in, when you noticed a light on in the hangar and decided to investigate. Normally the lights were all out at this hour, so you wondered who would be in there so late. You stopped when you got to the doorway and saw Commander Dameron…and then you realized what he was doing. 

His curly head was tossed back, mouth wide open…and he was stroking his…his…

You’d never seen one before, a dick that is, and it left you in awe. It was so…pretty. You wondered if they all looked like that or if his was just exceptionally pretty. You bit your bottom lip to help keep yourself quiet. You didn’t want to stop him or alert him to your presence. A breathy moan escaped him, hitting your ears and melting your body from the inside out.

Poe’s eyes shifted when he thought he heard a footstep. He recognized your shoe as you moved behind the door frame. He’d seen you wearing those pretty heels all night, he couldn’t possibly forget them. He could stop jerking himself off and make up some lie about what he was doing in there. Being caught, especially by someone as beautiful as you, should’ve been so embarrassing that he’d just assume throw himself off of the cliff the hangar was built into…but then he noticed that you were still watching.

He could see the little glistening of your eyes through the vent on the other side of the wall. You were curious, and that made him all the more aroused, knowing he had an audience. He started working on himself again, making a show of it now. He grabbed the side of his X-wing while he stroked, making sure to angle himself so that you could really see the full package. He dropped a glob of spit over his length, letting it dribble down the sides while he continued dragging his caged fingers over himself in a delicious rhythm.

You were watching, eyes unblinking through the vertically slotted ventilation hole in the wall. Your heart was racing after nearly being caught by the Commander. You should’ve left the moment you saw what he was doing, but he looked so handsome. His chiseled jaw was clenched tightly while he worked, clearly engrossed in what he was doing. He let out a sharp exhale as he started jerking faster, working his hips into the motion.

Poe had half a mind to call you in there, put you on your knees in front of him while he finished into your pretty mouth. He imagined how gorgeous you’d look with your lips coated in white. Would you swallow? Or would you let his spend trickle out of your bottom lip and down your chin to your chest? The thought of it made his cock harder, the tip was red and leaking so much he wouldn’t need to spit on it again.

He looked over at the wall again, just to check if you were still watching…you were. A faint hint of your eyes could still be seen through the vent. He shuddered, pressing his palm against the X-wing harder, feeling his breathing start to rattle as his movements got faster. Thinking about you and your prying eyes made his cock feel so good.

He imagined what you might be doing behind that wall. Were you touching your sweet little pussy while you watched? Were you biting your lip and thinking about all the ways you wanted your Commander to take you apart? You would look so pretty bent over the control panel of his T-70 while he split you open over and over again until he filled you to the brim, letting you drip all over the floor of the cockpit.

Poe let out a heavy moan that echoed off the walls in the hangar. His cock hardened before he felt it twitch and throb in his hand, sending hot spurts of white shooting onto the durasteel floor. He stumbled, feeling his legs going numb with every drop he milked out with his enclosed fist.

It was quite a sight, and you found yourself out of breath as though you’d been part of the show yourself. Your lip hurt from how hard you were biting it, and you knew it was only a matter of time before you were found watching the display so you left. You truly thought you’d gotten away with it unnoticed, watching the Commander jerk himself to completion in the hangar, but you were wrong.

The next day while working, as you were bent over, reaching for a tool in one of the utility rooms, you felt someone stand behind you, grabbing your hips and pressing their own flush against you. You gasped and stood up fast, only to be met with a pair of lips to your ear and a pair of hands around your waist.

“Hey baby, enjoy the show last night?”

----

Star Wars Masterlist

Poe Dameron Masterlist

Melody's 1k Celebration Masterlist

[daisyrb-gvf]

Wet Ink and Burning Ice-DRW

d.r.w. x f!reader

Words: 9.7k

Okay, you guys. This is the reason I haven't posted chapter 4 of "Cruising Into Love." Ya girl got too feral and needed to let some stuff out....so here you go!

Summary: Your boyfriend Danny has been bulking up, and you have some new ideas for how to break in those new muscles.

Warnings: 18+ readers only!!!!

explicit sex, unprotected penetrative sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, arm riding(!), edging, orgasm denial, bondage, spanking, slight degradation, ice play, foul language, some cheesy love because I can't help myself, INSANELY HOT DANIEL WAGNER!!!! Let me know if I missed anything!

“Alright, you two. I’m heading out,” Sam says to you and Danny, slapping his hands on his knees and pressing himself up off the oversized chair in yours and Danny’s living room. The credits from the movie you were all watching roll across the screen as Sammy slips on his Birks and heads toward the front door. 

“Bye, Sammy!” you say with a smile. 

“See you tomorrow, Sam,” Danny says, gently shifting you off of his chest and placing a pillow underneath you. 

“See you then, Daniel,” Sam calls out, closing the door behind him with a click, as your beautiful curly-headed boyfriend heads toward the kitchen. 

“Do you want another glass of wine, honey?” You hear him open the fridge and crack open a can of beer. 

“Yes, please! Thank you, baby!” you call out, sitting up on the couch. 

Danny rustles around in the pantry and pulls out an unopened bottle of wine. You and Sam had finished off the first one throughout the course of the evening, all of you laughing and enjoying another one of Sam’s amazing meals before settling down to watch a movie. You hear the cork pop off and the liquid pour into your glass before Danny makes his way back into the living room. 

“Here you go, sweetheart.” He hands you your glass with that heart-melting boyish smile that makes you weak in the knees. You wonder if you’ll ever get tired of that-if that feeling will ever fade? Definitely not you think to yourself as he leans in to kiss your forehead. No, after two years together, you still feel that same delicious heartache that you felt the moment you laid eyes on him. Gazing at him from across the bar, watching him laugh that goofy little laugh while he got drunk with his brothers, not a care in the world. His eyes met yours and locked in and that was that. Love at first sight, as cheesy as that sounds. Maybe it is, but you don’t care. You knew at that moment that he was the love of your life, and he knew it too. 

“What are you thinking about, angel?” Danny asks, sitting on the floor between your legs, his body halfway turned to face you, and his head resting against your knee. 

You caress his sweet face with your hand, tracing your forefinger along his perfectly chiseled jaw as he gazes up at you with an expression that can only be described as pure love. “The night we met,” you smile, leaning down to kiss him on his sharp, angled nose dusted with the most adorable freckles. 

He leans over and kisses your knee opposite the one he is resting on. “That was a good night,” he replies, gazing up at you again, gently stroking your calf with his free hand, the other still holding his beer. 

A laugh bubbles up out of your chest. Danny looks at you curiously, chuckling. “What’s so funny?” he smiles, sitting up straighter. 

“Just imagining how grossed out Sam would be if he were still here. You know he thinks we are the cheesiest, most nauseating couple on the planet,” you giggle again. 

Danny chuckles back, “In his defense, he’s probably right, but he’ll get it one day when he finds the right person.” 

“Oh I can’t wait to give him shit the day that happens,” you say with a smirk. 

“You and me both!” Danny laughs, leaning back again, his shoulder in between your legs leaning on the couch cushion. “You want to watch something else?” he asks, grabbing the remote off of the coffee table. 

“Yeah, sure! You pick.”

Danny scrolls through the list of movies on the screen, settling on one you’ve both seen a thousand times. 

“Caddyshack? Again?” you groan, tossing your head back and running your hand over your face. 

“Hey! You said I can pick!” he laughs, turning up the volume. 

You play with his soft, dark brown curls tickling your knee while you drink your wine, lovingly rolling your eyes at your boyfriend as he laughs at the same lines he’s heard thousands of times. You would be perfectly happy if you never watched this movie again, but you do love that goofy laugh, and the way his eyes crinkle when something really gets him belly laughing. You finish off your wine and hand the glass to him as he tips his can of beer back, swallowing the last few drops. He leans over to set the glass and can both on the coffee table, the muscles in his shoulders and arms more visible with his reach. The few glasses of wine you had already made you clench and shift slightly in your seat. Danny knows you get extra horny for him when you drink red wine, and you know that’s why he offered you another glass earlier. Not that you would have needed it. You’re fucking feral for this man stone-cold sober 24/7. He extends his arms above his head and then out to the sides, stretching with a yawn before leaning back to his previous position. Oh, for fucks sake. You’re already feeling flushed just from his stretch. You lazily run your finger across his shoulder and bicep, tracing the outline of each beautiful muscle. Ever since he started hanging out with Dave, Danny has started to bulk up. They’re “gym bros” now, as you love to call them, poking fun at your boyfriend. But you can’t deny, you are loving the results of the work he is putting in. You bite your lip, shifting in your seat again. 

“You doing okay up there?” Danny asks, turning his head slightly, but keeping his eyes on the screen. 

“Oh yeah. I am just fine,” you reply suggestively, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek as you slide your hand down the front of his white “The Thing With Feathers” band t-shirt. He cut the sleeves off the sides, exposing his arms, shoulders, and the sides of his torso. Everyone thinks he’s so sweet and humble, and yeah, sometimes he is, but he also loves to show off for all of his screaming fans, and for you, of course. You feel the ripples of his pecs and obliques under the soft touch of your fingertips and he shudders. Turning around, he looks up at you through his long, dark lashes, the sparkle of gold and green flecks in his eyes making your breath hitch. 

“Does my girl want to play?” he grins wickedly, licking his lips. 

“You know I do. And I know you do by how wine drunk you got me tonight,” you giggle. 

“What can I say? You just do it for me, baby,” he winks as you giggle again. “What are you thinking about?” 

“How I’m really glad you and Dave became friends,” you reply, your eyes exploring every inch of his upper body. 

“Interesting thought to get you all worked up, but I suppose he is pretty hot,” Danny smirks. 

God, that makes you want him even more. The way he can just openly talk about his guy friends being attractive with no weird stigma around it. He just calls it like he sees it, and he sees it for what it is: Dave Welsh is, in fact, pretty hot. 

“You’re definitely right about that,” you giggle as you lean in to kiss the shell of his ear, his head lolling off to the side, giving you better access. “But I’m referring to how bulked up you’ve gotten since you gym bros started hanging out.” Your voice is low and sultry in his ear and his eyes flutter in response. 

“Do you have to call us that?” he chuckles, his voice low and soft and his eyes still fluttering as you nip at his ear lobe. 

“What would you prefer I call you, hmm?” you ask, speaking barely above a whisper as you kiss his neck softly. 

“I don’t know…I think maybe ‘friends’ would suffice,” he chuckles, his breath hitching when you bite his neck, soothing it with a swipe of your tongue. 

You giggle and reply, “No…that just doesn’t fit quite right. See, you’re friends with Sammy and the twins, but you don’t have that special homoerotic ‘gym bro’ connection that you have with Dave. I’m sticking with gym bros.” You giggle and wrap your arms around him, feeling the strong, sinewy muscles across his chest and kissing his impossibly soft, freckle-dusted shoulder. 

“Homoerotic, huh?” he smirks, gently caressing his calloused hands over your arms. 

“Oh, yeah. Definitely,” You shift to the other side of his body, peppering kisses on his other shoulder. 

“And does my dirty girl like that? Thinking about her ‘homoerotic’ boyfriend and his ‘gym bro’ lifting weights, standing over each other to spot one another, our faces dangerously close to the others’ crotch?” he laughs. 

“You say that like a joke, but yes, in fact, your dirty girl does like that,” you giggle, running your hands down his abs before moving them back up and over his shoulders. “But right now all I can focus on are these shoulders and arms. Fuck, they are just doing something for me.” 

He chuckles, “You know you’re gonna give me a big head talking about my body so much.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, pulling back to sit up straight on the edge of the couch. “You got a big head during your last tour when all of the girls started losing their damn minds over you and that hot body.” 

“Maybe so,” he smirks, “but you’re the only one who gets this ‘hot body.’ He turns around to kneel before you, running his hands slowly up your thighs. “So tell me, angel, what do you want to do to it? I’m all yours.” 

“Well, I…I have this idea,” you start as your face turns a deep shade of red. 

He looks at you concerned for a moment. “What is it, baby? You know you can tell me anything. You don’t need to be embarrassed with me.” He cups your cheek and you lean into his touch. 

“Um, it’s…well, it’s kinda different, I suppose,” you fidget with your hands. 

“Sweetheart, it’s me. You know I just want to make you feel good. I want to give you what you want, okay?” He leans in to kiss your forehead, his lips warm and soft. 

“Okay,” you start, your nerves relaxing a little, “well, you know how I love to ride your thighs, right?”

He flashes that beautiful bright white smile, “Oh, yeah I do.” 

“Do you think maybe…um, maybe I could…try to uh…ride y-your…arms?” 

He releases a sharp exhale from his nose, his body tensing, causing his muscles to flex oh so deliciously. Grabbing both sides of your face, he goes in for a deep, passionate kiss, groaning into your mouth. “I fucking love you, you know that baby?” he says as he pulls back, resting his forehead on yours. 

You’re so relieved by his response, your nervous tension immediately fades away as you drape your arms around his shoulders and pull him flush with your body. “So, is that a yes?” you giggle. 

“That’s a hell yes,” he replies with that ridiculously sexy smile, kissing you again. “I’m not completely sure how to go about it, but we will figure it out together, okay?” His eyes are so full of adoration, you wonder why you were nervous to ask him? Your heart feels like it could literally burst from how much you love this man. He pulls back from the kiss and you gaze at him, just taking in his beauty that you will never tire of. He allows this for a moment, gazing back at you and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before he just can’t hold back anymore. He presses you back against the couch a little roughly and you bite your lip with a wicked grin, loving how eager he is for this. “You’re so fucking sexy, y/n,” he groans as he kisses and bites along your neck, licking a long strip from the base of your neck up to your ear. “Say it,” he commands. 

“I-I’m so fucking sexy,” you say, breathlessly, feeling a little silly, but already so lost in him that you don’t care. 

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he whispers, biting your earlobe just enough to sting before gently sucking on it. You whimper at his praise and start to tug at his shirt, pulling it over his head haphazardly. Grasping his shoulders, you pull him in and kiss him deeply again, letting your hands roam all over his perfectly sculpted torso, arms, and shoulders. “Mmm you just can’t get enough can you?” He licks his bottom lip and flashes that devilish grin again. 

“You have no fucking idea, Daniel,” you moan, reaching for the fly of his pants, fumbling to undo the button and pull down the zipper. He groans when you slide your hand into his tight, skinny jeans, cupping him while sucking on his bottom lip. 

He grips your wrist and pulls your hand out, pinning it above your head. “Not yet. I’m going to take my time tonight. Make sure you get off on my arms, you filthy little slut.” You whimper and arch your back, begging for him to touch you, lick you, kiss you, bite you…anything. You just need to feel more of him. “Mmm nope. Not until you say it. What are you, y/n?” 

You turn bright red as your breathing intensifies further. “I-I’m a filthy little slut.” The way he talks to you when he gets like this sets your whole body on fire. It’s so unlike him to talk to you this way. In fact, he was uncomfortable with it at first when you told him you liked it. He didn’t like calling you names or doing anything other than adore and praise you, but once he saw how hard you got off from it, he was on board 100%. 

“Yes you are, angel. My filthy little slut.” He gives you a wet, messy kiss, so desperate to taste as much of you as possible, before moving down to lick and suck down your chest, biting your peaked nipples through your cropped tank top. You shove the straps down your arms, rolling down the top until your breasts pop out with a bounce. He looks so desperate to taste you as he dives in, biting, sucking, practically abusing your chest, leaving bite marks and hickies-marking his territory. He’s animalistic right now. Your hands grip his silky soft curls, tugging on them with each excruciating bite. Fuck, he makes the pain feel so good. Working his way down your stomach, he rips your shorts off of you roughly, exposing your completely soaked light pink cotton panties. 

Danny sighs and his eyes flutter for a moment, taking in the view. “Oh, baby…such a good fucking girl. So wet for me already.” He dives in, running his perfectly angled nose along your heat, his tongue following suit. You moan louder than expected, considering there is still fabric between you and his mouth. “Yeah? You like that, baby?” he goads, rubbing his thick middle finger in feather-light circles over your clit. 

“Yes, Danny,” you whimper, “Oh God yes,” you say louder as he increases the pressure. You thrust into his hand, but he pulls back and grips your hips, slamming you back down onto the couch cushions. Your brow furrows and you whimper pathetically, so desperate for his touch again. He leans in and bites the skin just below your belly button, causing you to cry out and wince. Yanking you by your arms back into an upright position, he stands and towers over you, gripping your chin and tugging it up so you can look him in the eyes. 

“You’re going to cum exactly four times tonight-no more, no less. Do you understand me?” He’s an angel straight from hell, bound and determined to drag you down with him, and you have absolutely no desire to fight against it. 

“Yes sir,” you reply shakily. He roughly glides his thumb across your bottom lip, dragging it down before sliding it into your mouth so far back that you gag. He grits his teeth at the sound, and you can see his cock twitch through his jeans. 

Danny moves to sit on the floor again between your legs, as you sit on the edge of the seat. Moving sideways, he positions his right shoulder in between your thighs, just inches away from your throbbing clit, practically pulsing through your panties. You sit still for a moment, waiting for direction, not sure what to do and a little nervous. 

“Well, come on, sweetheart. This is what you wanted, right? Do it,” he demands, looking up at you through his dark, long lashes, smirking and biting his lip. 

You slowly inch forward just a bit as Danny tenses and flexes his arm, glancing over and smirking. Such a show off. You take a deep, shaky breath, suddenly feeling embarrassed again. This is so weird, right? Wanting to ride your boyfriend’s arms?! He seems into it, but what if he gets freaked out? 

“Angel,” his soft, kind voice pulls you out of your spiral. Reaching over with his left hand, he caresses your calf and looks up at you with those beautiful, sparkling hazel eyes filled with so much love . “Please don’t ever feel uncomfortable with me, okay? I love you. This isn’t weird if we don’t want it to be. Don’t think. Just feel,” he presses his shoulder in between your thighs, closing the gap. You gasp at the sensation, realizing just how badly you needed to feel any part of him between your legs. Gripping at his left arm that has moved up to your thigh, you slowly start to grind on him, right on top of his new tattoo, a symbol he created to represent the moon phase on the day he was born. It’s beautiful and unique and so…Danny. It feels incredibly intimate and almost forbidden to ride that particular part of his body. The sight of it causes your eyes to flutter as a moan escapes from your lips. Even through your panties, you can see his shoulder starting to dampen. His jaw drops as he takes in the scene before him, gripping and kneading your thigh. He fucking loves this. You roll your hips faster, your other hand gripping the silky soft curls on his head as you feel your orgasm start to build. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper in shock. “Already?” Your voice is so quiet you didn’t thank Danny could hear, but he did. 

“Oh, I knew it wouldn’t take long, sweetheart,” he smirks, looking up at you. “Come on, angel. I want to see you cum all over my shoulder. Right on this tattoo.” Glancing back down, his jaw drops again, a smile breaking through, so pleased and eager to see you fall apart around him. 

Loud whimpers and moans escape from you as your legs start to shake, just on the cusp of your orgasm. Danny moves his arm up further, digging his fingers into your hip, surely leaving bruises for you to blush at later. A reminder of this moment with him. He works your hip, urging you to roll your body faster onto him. You cry out his name, repeating it over and over mixed with a string of expletives as you fall apart around him, your nails digging into the sinewy muscle of his other arm, head falling back lazily as you come down, riding out the last few pulses of your orgasm. Leaning forward, you rest your cheek on top of his head, your breathing ragged. He runs his hand over your arm that’s resting on your knee, his right arm tracing an unknown pattern on your calf. 

“Fuck, baby. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Why didn’t I think of this?” he chuckles. 

You giggle as your breathing starts to regulate. Sitting up, you caress his face as he looks up at you in adoration. “I’m just glad you didn’t think it was too weird.” 

“Y/n I would get much weirder than that for you,” he laughs, leaning his head against your knee. 

“Oh really? I’m going to hold you to that, Daniel.” You lean down to give him a chaste kiss. 

Pulling his arm away slowly, you get a clearer view of the mess you made on his tattoo. Seeing it glisten in the lamplight made you clench. Daniel Wagner is the only man who could make you this horny mere minutes after an orgasm. You’re dying for more already. 

He looks down to admire your work as well, in awe. “Wow. And with your panties still on? Baby, let’s see the mess you can make with them off.” He flashes that wicked grin again, turning to face you on his knees, and grasping your hips to lift you up off of the couch into a standing position in front of him. Glancing up at you through those dark, long lashes, he licks a stripe from the waistband of your panties up to your belly button, then moves to kiss and lick along your hips. You close your eyes with a soft sigh, relaxing into him, feeling him, committing every single movement of his mouth against your skin to memory, your hands roaming along his arms and shoulders again, your fingers lingering on his damp tattoo. Hooking his thumbs over the waistband of your panties, he begins to pull them down slowly, continuing to feast on every inch of you, but he stops just short of exposing you and turns you around somewhat aggressively. You gasp in shock. Thankfully, he kept a firm grip on your hips to keep you from falling. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” he murmurs, almost like he is just talking to himself. You smile, turning your head to glance at him as you caress your hands over his, still resting on your hips. 

“That’s good because you’re stuck with me, Daniel Robert,” you reply with a wink. He glances up at you through his lashes again, but this time he has that adorable lovesick puppy expression plastered on his face. Your heart aches for him and you can’t decide what’s sexier: that look of adoration and longing, or that predatory look of hunger he switches to so quickly. 

He peppers the tenderest kisses along the small of your back, his arms dropping to caress your legs, causing goosebumps to prickle up in his wake. Switching from kisses to soft bites and licks, he then slides his big, warm hands up the sides of your thighs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties again. His mouth follows the slow descent of your panties over your ass, devouring the plush skin. You feel his smooth cheek rub against the swell of your ass as he lets out a quiet groan. Switching sides, he repeats his actions on your other cheek before moving down to taste the backs of your thighs. 

Whimpering, you tip your head back and whisper, “Please, baby.” 

“Please what, angel?” he chuckles, pulling back to remove your panties from around your ankles. 

“Please, I need more. Can you give it to me? Give me more, please?” You are whimpery and pathetic, but you don’t care. All sense of pride is thrown out the window and you are putty in his hands. 

He groans and kneads his hands into the supple skin of your ass, just barely running his angular nose up your crack, ending with a kiss on the small of your back. You gasp and let out a shaky whimper as you clench. “Is my sweet girl already so eager to make a mess of my other arm?” he asks. God, how is his voice this fucking sexy? 

“Yes, baby, I need it. I need you. Please let me cum again, Daniel?” He loves it when you say his name while you beg. 

He sighs out a groan before smacking your ass and aggressively turns you around again, shoving you back down on the couch in a seated position. Sitting on his knees directly in front of the sofa, he extends his left forearm along the couch cushion with his palm up, and elbow bent a little wider than a 90 degree angle right next to where you are sitting. “Straddle my arm, y’n,” he commands. You obey and shift to the side, swinging your leg over his head with a giggle as you sit on his forearm. He tenses and flexes all the muscles in his arm to give you a show and create some friction in between your legs. “Scoot forward.” You wiggle your way toward him until your clit is pressed against his bicep, your ass all the way on the edge of the couch. The veins in his arm are popping out as he continues to flex and put on a show for you, and the feel of his forearm underneath you along with your aching clit up against bicep is so fucking delicous your eyes flutter in anticipation. Danny leans forward and grips the back of your neck with his free hand to pull you into a hot, messy, deep kiss. You moan and instinctively grind on him, but he quickly slaps your thigh, leaving behind a sharp sting. You hiss and whimper from the shock of it. He grips your throat, his thumb digging into your pulse point as he leans in, his nose barely brushing yours. “Wait,” he says barely above a whisper through gritted teeth. His dominance makes you clench and you know he felt it because of the wicked chuckle he let out afterward. Keeping his hand on your throat, he moves his thumb to your jaw, jerking your head to the side so he can bite and suck on your neck. You whimper in pain, but it feels so good. His arm underneath you starts to feel slippery and you clamp your eyes shut to focus on staying still as he moves down to aggressively devour your breasts, biting, sucking, licking all over your tits. His free hand moves down to grip your thigh, presumably to keep you steady so he doesn’t have to punish you again. Although he loves to be dominant for you, you know deep down he just craves being sweet to you. You smile for a moment thinking of how tender his action is, even if his fingers are digging so roughly into your thigh that you’re sure there will be bruises tomorrow. 

“Come on baby, please?” You whine again, this time your breathing heavy and ragged, choking back a sob. “You feel so good underneath me. Please let me do it? I promise I’ll make a mess just like you want me to. I’ve been so good, haven’t I?” 

“Fuck, baby yes. Ride me,” he groans, his jaw dropping again as he watches you immediately roll your hips on his arm at a quick pace, rubbing your clit against his flexing bicep. You dig your nails into his shoulders, feeling his muscles tense and flex with every roll of your hips as he holds himself steady for you. “Does that feel good, sweetheart? Riding my arm like the depraved little slut you are?” He licks his bottom lip and bites it, feigning a cool attitude, but you see him shift and grind his hips into the sofa. He’s aching for release too. How is he going to wait for two more orgasms? You pick up your pace, thinking about how badly he needs to cum right now, eager to get off so that you’re one step closer to getting him off. 

“Yes, Danny,” you moan, staring at his bicep as you grind on it, seeing your juices coat his skin and hearing how wet you are with each slippery roll of your hips against him. He starts to move his arm forward and back, creating more friction, and helping you chase your orgasm since your legs are already shaking. “Oh, God yes, yes yes…” you repeat over and over between whimpers and loud moans. 

“There it is, beautiful. Come on, just let it happen. I want to see my arm dripping wet by the time you’re done.” His eyes are hooded and his jaw is dropped again, taking in the sight of you, his fingers still dug deeply in your thigh. 

You beat your fist against his shoulder and throw your head back, going rigid as he continues to furiously move his arm beneath you. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, holding your breath until you reach your peak, coming down with a loud cry and whimper of Danny’s name as you flop backward onto the couch, sweaty and spent. 

“Oh, fuck,” Danny chuckles with wide eyes.

“What?” you reply, barely able to open your eyes. You twitch as he slowly slides his arm out from under you. It is completely drenched. You turn bright red at the sight of it, your eyes going wide. 

“You are a good girl, aren’t you? Doing exactly as you're told,” he leans forward to kiss you on the forehead. “Now taste it.” You blink your eyes at him confused for a moment, still trying to bring yourself back to reality. He swipes two fingers along his arm and brings them to your lips, dipping them into your mouth. “Tastes good, doesn’t it, baby?” He lifts his arm up to lick a long, langued stripe, keeping his eyes on you. Your jaw drops watching the scene. He’s so fucking sexy your head is reeling. “Come on, y/n. Lick it up.” You slowly bend down, and lick all the way from his forearm up to his bicep, tasting the salty sweetness you left behind. “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, using his other hand to shift his painfully hard length aching to break free from those tight jeans. Kissing him deeply, you moan, tasting yourself on each others’ tongues. 

“Come on baby, please let me take care of that for you?” you beg, glancing down at his crotch. “I need it. Please, Danny?” Your whine is pathetic and you know that makes him crazy. 

He kisses you roughly, groaning into your mouth and gripping your hair before standing in front of you, your face eye level with his dick. His hands move to tenderly caress your shoulders as he gazes down at you, watching you practically pant in anticipation. 

“Well, go ahead, pretty girl. Take what you begged for,” he smirks, licking his bottom lip. God, you love it when he towers over you like this. 

Gripping the waistband of his already unbuttoned jeans, you haphazardly tug them down his legs. He kicks them off the rest of the way, helping you out. Wasting no time, you grip his length through his boxer briefs and lick from the base to the tip, dampening the fabric with your tongue. Tipping his head back slightly, he lets out a low groan, one hand resting on his stomach while the other lazily plays with your hair. He twitches when you suck on his tip, already able to taste the salty precum through the fabric. 

“Come on baby, give me more or you’ll pay for it later,” he says, already breathless. 

You pull back and start to kiss his hip bones and strong, slender thighs, licking a stripe up the inner part of his leg until you reach the hem of his underwear. 

“Oh, so my girl wants to be tortured a little tonight, does she? Okay, then. Guess we will find out later if you are going to regret this.” His voice is soft and smooth, but the threat behind it makes you shiver at his words. 

You continue your movements for a few more minutes, softly running your lips all over the skin around his underwear, but never getting near his throbbing length except for one little kitten lick over his tip. 

“That’s enough, y/n,” he growls, gripping your hair roughly and yanking your head back, causing you to yelp. “Take. Them. Off. Now.” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes dark and animalistic. 

Whimpering, you start to pull down his underwear, your hands shaking, not from fear but excitement. He’s about to get rough with you. As soon as they are off, he grips the base of his length and shoves it past your lips, hitting the back of your throat until you choke. He moans and purses his lips, nostrils flaring as he glares at you, pulling out and shoving himself into your mouth harder the second time. You cough around him and he pulls back out, giving you a moment. 

“Relax your throat, baby. I’m not going to stop,” he warns. You know that’s not actually true. With two taps of your hand on the back of his calf he would stop immediately and take care of you, but the threat of it has you wet all over again. You drop your jaw and open your throat and he thrusts back into you a bit further. This time you don’t choke, so he starts a steady rhythm, holding the back of your head, but releasing his grip. You hollow out your cheeks and suck hard, sliding your tongue along the underside of his shaft before pulling off with a pop sound. You move to take one of his balls in your mouth before he can push his way back into you. He groans as his other hand slides further down his stomach, the trail of hair beneath his belly button peeking through in between his fingers. Moving back to his dick, you add your hand, moving it in tandem with your mouth, adding a twisting motion as you swirl your tongue around the tip. He moans and tips his head back, gripping your hair as drool starts to drip out of your mouth and gather under your hand, warm and wet. After a minute or so, he grasps your wrist and rips your hand away, shoving himself deep into the back of your throat with his hand gripping the back of your head again. You choke and gag around him, but keep moving with him as he fucks your face furiously, drool dripping down your chin, tears leaking from your eyes, and snot starting to run out of your nose. You’re a fucking mess, and he loves it. Peering down at you, his eyes flutter and his jaw drops, his breathing loud and uneven in between loud moans and whimpers. 

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Take it. I love the way it sounds when you choke on me like that,” he groans. You try to moan around him, but it’s impossible with how deeply he is fucking into the back of your throat. “You’re such a fucking mess right now. Such a good girl for me…” He trails off into more moans and whimpers for a few seconds before you feel his hips start to twitch and his rhythm falter. Thank God, you feel like you are going to pass out if he doesn’t finish soon. “Yeah, baby. Right there, oh fuck yes, right there.” The pitch of his voice gets higher with each phrase until he moans loudly and repeats your name over and over, holding himself steady in the back of your throat, the warm liquid spurting out as you feel him twitch inside of you. He chokes out one last moan as you swallow around him, slurping up every last drop when he slowly pulls out of your mouth. He pulls you close to him, his hand tangled in your hair still with a looser grip, your cheek resting on his hip bone as you move your hand up to run your fingers through the soft hair on his stomach, his skin just barely damp underneath your fingertips. 

“Oh, you did so good baby,” he praises as his breathing starts to stabilize. 

After a moment, he grins down at you and then swiftly picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, slapping your ass as he carries you down the hallway to your shared bedroom. You giggle and reach down to squeeze one of his buttcheeks that you lovingly make fun of all the time. He has the tiniest little butt, especially compared to the Kiszka twins. 

“Stop that,” he chuckles, slapping your ass again as he turns to enter your bedroom. You giggle when he throws you down on the bed. He hovers over you for a moment, swiping away the pieces of your hair that had dried and stuck to your face. He gazes at you for a moment. That heartbreaking look of love and adoration in his eyes courses through your veins and makes your breath hitch. After a minute or so, he sits up, straddling you as he takes both of your hands to move above your head. He attaches them to the velcro cuffs that have become a permanent addition to your headboard. You lift your head up and kiss his chest as he leans over, making sure the straps are secure. 

Moving back down, he tenderly kisses your forehead. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” He walks into the bathroom and you can hear the cabinet door open and the faucet run. He has a damp washrag in his hand as he approaches the bed, laying next to you. “Here, let’s get you cleaned up a bit.” His voice is so tender and soothing, matching the way he runs the rag over your face and chest, wiping off the dried tears, saliva, and snot. If it were anyone else you would feel embarrassed and gross, especially as he gently wipes around your nose, but…it’s Danny. “There, that’s better,” he says, running his eyes over you to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “You okay? Comfortable and everything?” he asks, setting the washrag on the nightstand. 

“Yes, baby.” Your heart is pounding as you smile up at him. Not from nervousness or excitement. No, this is from pure love. 

He sidles next to you, tracing his finger along your cheek and jaw, leaning in to give you the sweetest, softest kiss you could ever imagine. Moving his finger down to trace along the center of your chest down to your belly button, he leans in and whispers in your ear, “Are you ready for more?” 

“God, yes,” you breathe. You are so worked up from getting him off, and you are aching for more. Sweet Danny is tugging at your heartstrings, but you want dominant Danny back for just a little longer. 

He wraps his hand around your throat, pressing on your pulse point and traps you in a kiss that steals all of the breath from your lungs. You moan into his mouth, already clenching and squeezing your legs together. 

“Mmm my sweet girl is insatiable, isn’t she?” he chuckles against your lips. “So greedy,” he groans before capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking away the sharp pain right afterward. 

“You are the one who told me I was going to cum four times tonight, remember? ‘No more, no less’?” you goad. 

Danny removes his hand from your throat and slides his thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. “From now on, this mouth is only going to be used to let me know how good I’m making you feel or,” he moves his lips to your ear and whispers, “how badly I’m torturing you. Understand?” You whimper and nod your head, unable to respond as his thumb is still pressed down in your mouth. He slides it out pulling down your bottom lip as he bites your earlobe, enough for it to sting and make you yelp. He pulls away and grabs the tank top that’s still bunched around your waist. “Let’s get this off.” He wiggles it down past your hips and over your legs, throwing it on the floor, leaving you completely naked and bound. “You are so fucking beautiful tied up like this for me. Just my little plaything, aren’t you?” He spreads your legs and kneels between them, smirking as he watches you squirm. “Answer me,” he commands in a stern tone. 

“Yes. Yes, Danny I’m your plaything. Please just do something? Please touch me?” you beg, clenching around nothing. 

“Pathetic little thing already this worked up? And after cumming twice already. Oh, what am I going to do with you?” His smile is so wicked, you know torture is coming your way. He makes his way back up to your face, his nose and lips mere centimeters away. You lean up to close the gap, but he grips your throat tightly and presses you down into the mattress. He chuckles evilly and leans down to tease his lips against yours, swiping his tongue across them before making his way down to your chest, releasing your throat. Soft curls tickle your skin as he leans in to taste you, but he never does. He hovers his lips so close to your body that you almost think you can feel it, but it’s just your brain tricking you. He hovers over your collarbone, neck, breast-spending extra time around your nipple. He even labors his breathing so you can’t feel the sensation of his hot breath on the sensitive buds aching to feel any part of him. Even just a brush of his stomach or something would ease the ache for a moment, but you feel nothing. You want so badly to arch up into his mouth, but you know if you do it will be so much worse. He repeats the action on your other breast and you whimper and jerk on the cuffs, begging him without words. He chuckles again and sticks his tongue out to lick your nipple, but it’s so soft and so fast you wouldn’t even be sure it happened if you weren’t looking. It’s even more infuriating than not having his mouth on you at all. 

“Please, Danny. Please,” you whine, pulsing and clenching around nothing again. 

“Keep begging, angel. I can do this all night.” He flicks his eyes up at you and grins as he moves down, continuing his movements all over your belly and hips. You do your best not to squirm, but when he hovers over your core you can’t help but roll your hips into his mouth. He immediately sits up and slaps the inside of your thigh. Hard. So hard you know you’ll see a handprint there in the morning. You cry out and whimper, your lip quivering from the sting and the denial of his lips on you where you need them most. 

“Oh, such a shame. You were so close to getting what you wanted, but you had to go and get impatient on me,” he mocks, standing up and walking out of the room. Where the fuck is he going? You know better than to ask, but you whine again and squeeze your legs together for just a tiny bit of relief. 

What is he doing?! You wonder after a few minutes of laying there naked, tied up, and alone. Wait..is he…laughing? He’s fucking laughing!

Danny is in the living room, checking his phone and laughing at a video that Sam sent to him as he leisurely drinks a beer. After about five minutes or so he moseys into the kitchen, gets a cup from the cabinet and fills it with ice cubes before heading back down the hall. His phone is still in hand as he rounds the corner and steps into the bedroom, eyes locked on the screen as he chuckles at something he is reading-completely unbothered. You look at him with the most pathetic, pouty expression, silently begging him to take mercy on you, but he won’t even look up. He just keeps on reading whatever is on that fucking phone of his. You’re almost on the verge of tears when he finally sets his phone down on the dresser and walks up to the foot of the bed, setting the glass of ice down on the floor next to him. 

“So, you think you’re ready to try again, y/n?” he asks, hands on his hips, looking down at you with that evil grin again. 

“Yes,” you breathe, doing your best to stay completely still. 

“Good girl.” He leans over to grab your hips and flips you over to your stomach. “Get on your knees.” 

You wiggle your way up to your knees as quickly as you can, staying completely still once you’re in position, your face against the mattress and your hands gripping the rail of the headboard that the cuffs are attached to. Danny pads over to the bedside table and pulls out the black, silk blindfold he keeps in the top drawer. “Turn your head,” he commands. You turn away from him, facing the other side of the room as he gently wraps the fabric around your eyes and secures it behind your head with a double knot. He makes his way back down to the foot of the bed and you hear him grab the cup of ice, the cubes too loud for him to be very secretive about what he’s going to do-hence, the blindfold. You shiver and tense, trying to prepare yourself for the icy chill that could start at any part of your body, but it’s not happening. It’s hard to gauge time in this predicament, but you know it’s been at least a couple of minutes. He’s really testing you tonight. Finally, you feel the ice press against the back of your thigh and you hiss and flinch from the sensation. He holds it in place long enough for it to melt a bit, causing a droplet of water to run down your leg and land at the back of your knee. Your head is reeling from how intense this feels. It’s overwhelming to the point that you don’t even know what your body is craving anymore. Suddenly, you feel the ice land in between your shoulder blades, another drop of water trailing toward your neck, quickly getting absorbed by the mess of hair around your shoulders. He moves to the side of your breast, another drop of water rolling down and dripping off of your nipple down onto the bed. You whimper again, unsure if you love or hate the sensation. He chuckles, then places a cube at the small of your back, dragging it down achingly slow in between your cheeks all the way until he reaches your clit. You cry out once he lands there, holding it in place. Your brain is scrambled, but you think this hurts. As soon as you register that it does, in fact, hurt, he pulls the ice away and replaces it with his mouth, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit and soothing it with his warm tongue. You choke out a sob, realizing just how badly your body was craving him. You had forgotten while you were so on edge, waiting for his next torturous move. He pulls back and you whine as you hear him pick up another ice cube. He doesn’t place it anywhere on your body, though. No, you feel it when his mouth envelopes your clit again. You scream and pull away, but he grips your hips hard, holding you onto him. The mixture of hot and cold against your most sensitive part is too much for you to handle, and you feel like you may pass out. Right when you think you can’t take it any longer, he drags the ice with his tongue back and up along your crack again, the opposite direction this time. Your legs are shaking and your arms are sore. Your entire body is screaming, begging for some relief. The silky smooth fabric against your eyes starts to dampen with your tears as Danny pulls away, soft sobs escaping from your lips. 

“Shhhh it’s okay baby,” he whispers, placing his large, warm hands around your hips, moving them up along your back and shoulders. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he assures again as he gently unties the blindfold and turns you back over. Your eyes try to adjust to the light for a moment before he captures your mouth in the most perfect, relieving kiss. His tongue is still cold from the ice, but it feels so good tangling with yours. “I love you, angel,” he whispers, pulling back to move down to your neck and chest, lovingly licking and kissing all over your skin that was actually physically aching for him. You sigh and whimper, more tears escaping your eyes, but this time from relief. Danny makes sure to take his time lovingly devouring your breasts. Sucking, licking, softly biting your nipples just how you like it. You try to take in the scene as long as you can, but it just feels too good. Your head falls back and your eyes close as he moves down, kissing along your belly and hips. 

“Oh, thank you baby,” you say with a sigh, so happy to finally be feeling his mouth all over you. You don’t think it’s ever felt this good before. 

“Don’t thank me yet, angel,” he chuckles as he moves down to kiss and lick along your inner thighs. “I’m not finished with you.” 

You whimper and your eyes flutter at the sound of his voice. So soft and velvety, not too deep, but with a deep timbre. The only sound more beautiful than his voice are the sounds he makes when he’s deep inside of you, your voices harmonizing together in a melody sweeter than any song he plays with Greta Van Fleet. You get to hear this private concert almost nightly (and sometimes daily), and you couldn’t feel luckier. 

Danny continues kissing, licking, sucking, biting all over your thighs and hips, torturing you like you did to him earlier, not putting his mouth where you need it the most. Your whines and whimpers release from you louder and more frequent the longer he keeps this up. Your arms are aching so badly from being tied up for so long and you feel like you are on the verge of tears again. 

“Baby, please. It hurts. Please just show me a little mercy?” you beg. And as much as Danny loves being in this zone, knowing how hard it makes you cum, he just can’t resist giving you what you want right now. He dives his tongue inside of you, groaning as he tastes how sweet you are, dragging your wetness up and over your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking on it so sweetly. “Oh, fuck! Shit, you do that so well, Danny. God, I need you. I need this forever. I need you forever.” He moans in appreciation, never faltering with his movements. Being the cheesy, sappy man he is, you know this urges him on more than anything else. He slides his two middle fingers inside of you, curling them, hitting that sweet spot just right as you tremble around him and cry out his name. “Yes, just like that, Danny. Just like that. Please don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you beg, pathetically. His tongue on you and his fingers inside of you create the most delicious unholy sounds that send you over the edge. Your entire body goes rigid for a moment before your legs twitch and squeeze around his head. His fingers fuck into you hard and fast until you start to come down, softly whimpering and whispering his name. He smiles proudly as he crawls back up on top of you, his face almost dripping with your juices as he leans in to kiss you. 

“Taste how sweet you are, baby. I could just eat you all day and all night,” he whispers before kissing you again. 

He reaches up to release your wrists from the cuffs and you whimper with relief, immediately wrapping your arms around him, pulling him close to you, savoring the feel of his skin on your hands and against your body. You feel how hard he is again, surprisingly. He usually doesn’t cum more than once a night. Now you’re so eager to get him off, you reach down lining him up with your entrance, but he pulls your arm away, trapping it by your side. 

“Don’t let my sweetness confuse you darling. I’m still in control here.” He licks your lips and moves back down between your legs. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he dives back in and starts aggressively eating you out, even giving the softest bite, causing you to grip his hair with both hands and pull him away. He grabs your wrists and pins them to your sides, relentlessly continuing to devour you. It hurts so badly, but feels so fucking good at the same time. You can feel your orgasm building again, but then remember you only have one left. If you cum now, you can’t fuck him, and that’s what you’re aching for the most. 

“Danny, please stop. Please, I want to feel you inside of me. I don’t want to cum yet. Please, baby, please?” Your breathing is uneven as you whine, sweat forming on your brow as your eyes squeeze shut, focusing hard on fighting off your orgasm. 

He chuckles evilly and continues his pace, adding in his fingers again, stroking you perfectly. You start to sob and shove your one free hand into his hair, trying to pull him off of you, but he’s strong, and you aren’t able to. 

“Fuck, Danny please! Please, I’m begging you! RED!” you scream at him. Your safe word. He instantly stops and crawls over you, kissing away your tears and cradling your head. 

“You okay, angel?” he asks, his expression so full of concern as he shifts his eyes back and forth quickly, searching yours. 

You sob harder, pulling him close to you. “I just need to feel you. All of you. Can you be sweet now? I just want to make love to my boyfriend, okay?” 

“Fuck, yes baby. That sounds perfect. I want that more than anything.” He kisses you more tenderly than you’ve ever felt before and rolls over, pulling you on top of him. 

You lean down and kiss softly all over his face. Each freckle on his cheeks, nose, and eyes, his forehead, his jaw and chin, his soft, swollen, plush lips, still coated with your wetness. “I love you so much, Daniel,” you whisper, resting your forehead on his, wiggling your nose on his as you both smile. 

“Oh, angel you have no idea,” he whispers back, cradling your face with his hand and kissing your forehead, tears welling in his eyes. Sam is definitely right. You two are the cheesiest couple of all time. 

You sit up and raise yourself higher on your knees so he can line himself up with you, allowing you to sink down slowly onto him. You steady yourself with your hands on his toned stomach, your head tipping back and jaw dropping with your brow furrowed and eyes shut. It’s the most beautiful sight Danny could ever imagine. His brow is raised in the middle, hands on your hips and jaw dropped, as well, moaning once you sink down onto him fully. You move on top of him slowly, wanting to make this last. Wanting to feel him inside of you as long as possible. He reaches down to rub circles on your clit, but you pull his hand away and move it up to your breast. 

“Please, not yet baby. I’m already close and I need you inside of me longer than that.” 

“Of course, angel,” he says, sitting up as you wrap your legs around him. He holds you against him, chest to chest as your arms roam all over his back and shoulders, thrusting up into you slowly. Your breathing is slower, but still labored, matching his as you gaze into each other's eyes. You have to look away to make this last, so you lean down and kiss every little freckle dusted on his shoulders. He sighs, leaning down to kiss yours as well, his hands caressing all over your back and hips. You feel his rhythm start to falter as his breathing intensifies, soft whimpers escaping from his lips. He’s getting close. “Baby, I’m trying here, but I’m so close,” he whispers in your ear. 

“It’s okay, Daniel. I am too.” You increase your pace, rolling your hips onto him as he slides his hand down to gently press on your clit, pulsing it softly. Looking down, you see the large vein in the center of his wrist shift with each movement of his hand, the dainty silver jewelry swaying around it. The sight sends you over the edge as you grip the back of his neck, your foreheads and noses pressed together. Through shared breaths you both moan and whimper, whispering each other’s names into each other’s mouths between soft, deep kisses, riding out your orgasms together. Once you reach your peak, you let out one more loud, high-pitched whimper, sweat dripping down your brow and chest as you continue to look into his eyes, your eyelids fluttering and brow arched up in the middle. His face matches yours as you feel his hips twitch, spilling inside of you. Holding each other tightly, and as closely as possible, your chests damp from sweat, you both steady your breathing and come down together. 

“You know, as much fun as we had tonight,” Danny breaks the silence, “I think what we just did was the best time we’ve ever had.”

You kiss his nose and forehead, eyes welling up with tears from the painfully intense love you have for him. “I completely agree, Daniel. Thank you.” 

“For what, sweetheart?”

“Just for being you.”

@dazeebean @spark-my-nature @geekgirlinthegreen

[cynic-spirit]

The Compliment

It was a typical night at the club, everyone was in good spirits, and the teasing was in full swing. Steve, Sam, Nick, and Thor were all gathered at the table with Bucky and Yn. The conversation turned toward Bucky’s endless compliments for Yn, which had not gone unnoticed by the group.

“You know, Yn,” Steve started with a knowing smirk, “Bucky here never misses a chance to compliment you.”

Sam nodded, grinning. “And all you ever do is say, ‘Thanks, Bucky,’ like he just handed you a cup of coffee or something.”

Nick chuckled, leaning back. “The guy’s practically composing love sonnets, and you’re over there with a ‘thanks.’”

Thor laughed, his deep voice booming through the room. “A simple ‘thank you’ doesn’t do the man justice.”

Bucky immediately stiffened, sensing the trap being laid out before him. He raised his hands in defense, looking at Yn. “Guys, don’t—”

But it was too late. Yn’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh? I don’t appreciate him enough, is that it?” She arched a brow and turned to Bucky, a playful smile on her lips. “You think I don’t compliment you, Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Yn, don’t...”

Yn leaned forward, her voice taking on a dramatic, almost poetic cadence. “You know, Bucky, I could compliment you more. Let’s start with your hair.” She gestured to his dark locks. “It’s like the Starry Night by Van Gogh—each strand as dark and deep as the night sky, swirling in endless beauty. A masterpiece.”

Bucky shifted in his seat, already feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. “Oh no…”

Ignoring his discomfort, Yn continued, her voice smooth and confident. “Your face,” she said, letting her eyes trace his jawline. “It’s chiseled like the statue of Michelangelo’s David, each angle sharp and perfect, as if molded by the hands of the gods themselves. That jaw... it could cut through glass.”

Sam snorted, already having trouble containing his laughter. “Oh man, she’s really getting started.”

Thor, looking absolutely entertained, nodded enthusiastically. “This is gold.”

Yn pressed on, turning her attention to his lips. “And your lips... they’re like the delicate curves of Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne—soft, inviting, a work of divine craftsmanship. A kiss from those lips is surely like being touched by art itself.”

Bucky’s hand shot up to his face in pure embarrassment. “Yn, please…”

But she was just warming up. Her eyes flicked to his piercing blue gaze. “And your eyes... they’re Monet’s Water Lilies, serene yet striking, pools of blue so deep they could drown a person. They see through everything, Bucky. They are like art come to life.”

Steve leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a grin. “She’s killing him.”

Nick laughed, nodding. “Oh, he’s done for.”

Yn’s gaze dropped to his shoulders. “Your shoulders,” she continued, her voice dripping with admiration. “They’re like the Parthenon—broad, strong, capable of holding up empires. They carry the weight of the world with grace and ease.”

Bucky’s composure was visibly slipping, but Yn didn’t stop. Her hand brushed lightly over his arm as she moved down. “And those biceps... like the curves of Rodin’s The Thinker. Every muscle perfectly sculpted, a testament to strength, carved out of pure marble.”

Thor chuckled, “She’s describing a literal god.”

Bucky groaned softly. “Oh my god…”

Yn, completely unfazed, shifted her focus to his chest. “Your chest, Bucky... expansive, like the canvas of da Vinci’s The Last Supper, full of detail and meaning. It’s a masterpiece of strength and power, every inch telling a story.”

Bucky was gripping the table at this point, trying not to collapse under the weight of her words. “Yn, I’m begging you—”

But she went on, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And your abs, Buck... they’re like the architecture of Gaudí’s Sagrada Família—intricate, precise, a wonder of design and craftsmanship. Every muscle a deliberate work of art, as if designed to mesmerize.”

Sam covered his mouth, barely containing his laughter. “I can’t... I can’t breathe.”

Steve was practically in tears. “He’s not going to make it.”

Yn moved to his back, her hand tracing lightly over his shoulder as she leaned closer. “Your back... strong, like Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. Every line, every muscle, like a perfect fresco, a divine creation.”

At this point, Bucky looked like he might actually melt into the floor. His entire face was flushed, and his breathing had grown shallow. “Yn, please stop.”

Yn smirked, but she didn’t relent. “And your legs, Buck... tall, powerful, like the pillars of the Pantheon. They’re pillars of strength, holding you up with unshakable resolve.”

Bucky slumped a little further in his chair, completely wrecked. “Oh my god…”

“And your hands,” Yn continued, her voice growing even softer. “Long and graceful, like the hands of Donatello’s Saint George. Each finger delicate, but strong, like a sculptor’s tool, capable of shaping the world.”

Thor nudged Sam. “This is better than any show I’ve seen in years.”

Nick grinned. “He’s not surviving this.”

Then, Yn’s eyes twinkled with one final blow. She lowered her voice, her lips curving into a playful smile. “And of course, your derrière... firm and perfect, like Canova’s Venus, a form that should be displayed in museums.”

Sam lost it, doubling over in laughter. “Oh my God, she went there!”

Bucky was slumped forward now, completely defeated, his face buried in his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening…”

But Yn wasn’t quite finished. She leaned in for the final blow, her voice soft but devastating. “And lastly... your ithyphallic form, Bucky... like the great statues of ancient Greece, standing proud, a symbol of strength and power. Truly... a marvel of artistic anatomy. exquisite Mr Barnes!”

That was it. Bucky finally slumped fully over the table, his face hidden in his arms, utterly wrecked. “I... I’m done.”

Yn sat back with a satisfied grin, crossing her arms. “What do you expect from an art professor, Bucky?”

Sam, unable to breathe from laughing so hard, raised his glass. “To Yn. The only person who could turn Bucky Barnes into a piece of art and utterly destroy him in the process.”

Steve clapped his hands, laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face. “I’m never going to let him live this down.”

Bucky, still face-down on the table, groaned, his voice muffled. “I’m never challenging her again.”

Bucky remained slumped over the table, face buried in his arms, even as Yn gracefully leaned back in her chair and reached for her drink, completely at ease after delivering her artistic onslaught of compliments. The room was filled with laughter, but Bucky didn’t budge, clearly too mortified to resurface just yet.

Steve, wiping away tears of laughter, nudged him with a finger. “Hey, Buck, you still with us?”

Bucky let out a muffled groan from his position, his face still hidden. “Leave me here. I’m dead.”

Sam, still chuckling, leaned in, tapping his shoulder. “Come on, man, you survived worse than this. Hydra’s got nothing on what just happened.”

Thor, grinning ear to ear, clapped Bucky on the back, sending him jolting forward just slightly. “He’s strong. He’ll rise again. Though, I admit, that was quite the battle to witness.”

Bucky groaned again, this time even more dramatically. “I’m not rising. I’m staying down. Just... let me go.”

As Yn got up from the table to head to the restroom, the rest of the group watched her go, still chuckling at Bucky’s complete and utter defeat. The moment she disappeared from sight, Steve saw his chance and slid over next to Bucky, who was still face-down, refusing to lift his head.

“Come on, man,” Steve said, trying to sound sincere, though the amusement was still clear in his voice. “She really meant every word. You know that, right?”

Bucky let out another groan, his face still buried in his arms. “Steve... leave me be. Just... kill me. Put me out of my misery.”

Sam, overhearing the conversation, leaned in with a grin. “Nah, we’re not letting you off that easy, man. You gotta live with this one.”

Bucky’s hand lifted slightly, waving in the air before slumping back down. “Mercy... I’m asking for mercy here.”

Steve shook his head, patting Bucky on the back. “You know she wasn’t just teasing. That’s the thing. Every word? She meant it.”

Bucky lifted his head just enough to glare at Steve. “She made me sound like a piece of museum art. And don’t even get me started on the... ithyphallic form thing.”

Steve chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. That part might’ve been a bit much.”

Bucky slumped back down onto the table, covering his head with his arms. “A bit? Steve, I’m not recovering from this.”

Nick chimed in, laughing from his side of the table. “You’re like the Venus de Milo, man, but with arms.”

Thor’s deep laughter rumbled through the group. “And perhaps a bit more... fully sculpted, as Yn described so poetically.”

Bucky groaned louder. “I’m asking you all... end it now. I can’t go on like this.”

Steve just shook his head, grinning as he stood up. “You’ll survive, Buck. Besides, I’m pretty sure she’s going to do this again next time you compliment her. So, you better get used to it.”

Bucky let out another defeated groan. “I can’t... I’m never complimenting her again.”

Sam raised his glass with a grin. “Oh, sure you won’t, man. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Bucky, still slumped over, gave another pathetic wave. “Goodbye, cruel world.”

Nick leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. “You know, the best part of all that? It was so poetic. Nothing about it sounded vulgar or cheap.”

Thor nodded in agreement, stroking his beard. “Indeed, it was vivid, bold... but elegant. She has a way with words, that one.”

Steve, grinning, leaned in closer to the table. “Yeah, I mean, she described Bucky’s ithyphallic form—" He paused, holding back laughter at the word, “—and even that somehow sounded like it belonged in a museum exhibit. That takes talent.”

Sam snorted, shaking his head. “Right? Most people would just go for something basic. But Yn? She practically turned him into a walking art gallery.”

Nick added with a smirk, “I’ve never heard anyone talk about someone’s biceps like they were carved by Michelangelo and still keep it classy. She’s something else.”

Thor chuckled deeply. “You know, Bucky, you should feel honored. To be praised in such detail... so grandly.”

Bucky, still slumped over the table, let out another dramatic groan. “Please... stop...”

Steve patted him on the back, still thoroughly amused. “Come on, Buck. You’re the closest thing we’ve got to a living masterpiece, apparently.”

Bucky didn’t lift his head, but his voice was low and defeated. “I don’t want to be a masterpiece. I want to disappear.”

Sam raised his glass, his grin wide. “Sorry, man. No disappearing for you. Yn just immortalized you with that monologue. You’re stuck as art now.”

Nick added, “And it wasn’t just any monologue. That was the kind of stuff people quote. Like, forever.”

Bucky groaned louder. “Just... let me die in peace.”

Thor chuckled again. “Death by compliments. That’s a first.”

Steve leaned in, shaking his head in disbelief. “Seriously, though. Not a single word was out of place. She even threw in those references to art... the Pantheon legs... Venus—”

Bucky raised his head slightly, enough to glare at Steve. “Stop... talking.”

Steve just grinned, unfazed. “I’m just saying, Buck. She turned you into a poetic masterpiece. You can’t escape it.”

Bucky slumped back down, his voice muffled as he muttered, “I’m not going to survive this.”

Nick leaned in, his grin mischievous. “You know what, Bucky? It’s gonna be tough for anyone to top that. You’re basically untouchable now.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, anyone else tries to flirt with their girl, and you can just throw down, ‘Well, have you ever been compared to Michelangelo’s David and Apollo and Daphne? No? Thought so.’”

Bucky groaned again, a long, low sound of pure exasperation. “I’m begging you... leave me alone.”

Thor raised his glass, a wide grin spreading across his face. “To Bucky, the masterpiece none of us knew we needed.”

The rest of them clinked glasses and laughed, while Bucky stayed slumped over, unwilling to rise to the challenge or the teasing. This might just be the hardest thing he’s ever had to endure, and it didn’t involve a single fight—just words. Beautiful, poetic, devastating words.

As the laughter continued, Bucky finally muttered under his breath, “Next time... I’m not even going to open my mouth.”

Steve chuckled, leaning forward with a grin. "I mean, come on, she literally described his derrière like it belonged in the Louvre. ‘Firm, like Canova’s Venus’—who even thinks of that?"

Sam, barely able to keep from laughing, chimed in, "Yeah, and when she got to the ithyphallic form... I mean, seriously, who does that and makes it sound like it should be on a pedestal somewhere?"

Nick raised his eyebrows. “But you know what? She’s right. Both of those—" He paused, biting back a laugh, "—definitely deserve to be celebrated. She wasn’t kidding. Bucky’s got it all, man.”

Bucky, still face-down on the table, let out another exaggerated groan. “Please... for the love of God... stop.”

Thor, with his booming laugh, clapped Bucky on the back, causing him to jolt forward slightly. "Ah, Bucky, you should be proud! Few men have had their derrière and their... uh... more impressive assets so elegantly praised. It was like an ancient hymn, a celebration of the body."

Bucky lifted his head just enough to glare at Thor, his face flushed. “I don’t need my body celebrated, Thor.”

Steve grinned, folding his arms. “Well, it’s too late for that now, buddy. Yn has officially made sure your ithyphallic form—" he paused, clearly enjoying the moment, “—and your... well, your other fine qualities are immortalized.”

Sam couldn’t contain his laughter anymore. “Man, you’ve been sculpted and celebrated. She didn’t just compliment you—she turned you into a freakin’ statue! Everything got its moment of glory. And I mean everything.”

Nick added with a grin, “Yeah, you heard her, man. Your derrière—firm, like Canova’s Venus, a ‘form to be displayed in museums.’ That’s some high praise right there.”

Bucky groaned again, dropping his face back into his arms. “I’m not surviving this. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Thor, ever the encourager, shook his head with a wide smile. “But you should hear the end of it. Bucky, she has celebrated you from head to toe. And every part—yes, even the parts that some might... blush to mention—have been given their due respect. This is not something to run from, my friend.”

Steve nodded sagely, completely serious. “Exactly. You’ve got a Michelangelo’s David jawline, Venus-level derrière, and don’t even get me started on the ithyphallic form. Bucky, you’re a walking masterpiece.”

Bucky lifted his head just enough to shoot Steve a withering glare. “You’re not helping.”

Sam, still laughing, chimed in, “Look, man, you gotta own it now. Both the front and the back were celebrated in such vivid detail, and let’s face it—you deserve it.”

Nick grinned, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, if I were you, I’d be pretty proud of the whole package getting that much attention. People pay to have their art appreciated like that.”

Bucky groaned even louder, burying his face deeper into his arms. “I’m asking you all... please... stop. I can’t take any more.”

Thor, with a playful grin, crossed his arms and said, “Oh no, Bucky, this is something to relish. There are men in history whose greatest hope was to be immortalized in such a way. And you? You have been praised in the way of ancient heroes, from every angle.”

Steve leaned in, still amused. “Including some angles that probably don’t see that much poetic love.”

Bucky, with one last exhausted groan, slumped even deeper into the table, as if trying to disappear entirely. “I’m begging you. Let me die in peace.”

Sam raised his glass with a wicked grin. “To Bucky Barnes, whose derrière and ithyphallic form have been rightfully celebrated in the way all true art deserves.”

Nick, laughing, clinked his glass with Sam’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

Steve and Thor joined in, while Bucky stayed resolutely face-down, his resolve crumbling.

As the glasses clinked around him, Bucky let out one last, defeated sigh. “Next time... I swear, I’m not saying a word.”

After what felt like an eternity, with his head buried in his arms, Bucky finally lifted himself from the table. Slowly, he sat up straight, blinking a few times, looking like he’d just come back from a long and arduous journey. The group, still grinning like fools, turned to him, their amusement evident.

“Hi... welcome back, buddy,” Steve said, patting him on the shoulder with a playful grin.

Thor chuckled. “We weren’t sure if you were going to rise again. Thought maybe the weight of all those compliments finally took you down for good.”

Sam smirked, raising his eyebrows. “You alive, or do we need to get someone to give you CPR?”

Bucky exhaled deeply, rubbing his face with his hands as if trying to wipe away the memory of the poetic onslaught. “I always knew she had a way with words… and she’s brilliant, no doubt about that... but...” He paused, glancing around at his friends, who were watching him with entertained smiles.

“But what?” Nick asked, leaning in, clearly enjoying Bucky’s reluctant confession.

Bucky let out a long, exhausted sigh. “But I am never, and I mean never... ever... challenging her again on anything.”

The group laughed, fully understanding where this was coming from.

“Smart move, man,” Sam said, grinning. “I don’t think you’d survive another round.”

Bucky nodded, looking dead serious. “I won’t. I’m happy not getting any compliments from her for the rest of my life. In fact, I’m good with just silence forever.”

Steve chuckled. “Come on, you don’t mean that. You love when she compliments you. Maybe just not... quite like that.”

Bucky shook his head, his face still flushed at the memory. “Nope. I’m good. I don’t need to be compared to Michelangelo’s David or have my... ithyphallic form praised ever again.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sure? Because I gotta say, that’s one hell of a compliment.”

Bucky glared at him. “I’ve had enough compliments for a lifetime. I’m done. No more. I’m tapping out.”

Thor, still chuckling, leaned back in his chair. “Well, Bucky, it’s good that you’ve learned your lesson. She clearly has the upper hand.”

Bucky sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, and I’m fine with that. Totally fine. She wins. She can have all the victories. I don’t need any more... artistic descriptions of my body.”

Sam raised his glass once more, his grin wide. “To Bucky, who has finally learned not to mess with an art professor with a poetic mind.”

The group clinked their glasses again, laughing while Bucky just shook his head, clearly still recovering from the ordeal.

Steve grinned, patting him on the back. “Good choice, man. Because after that, we all know—you wouldn’t stand a chance in another round.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, still in disbelief over everything that had just happened. “I’m not taking that risk again. No way. I’m keeping my compliments to myself from now on.”

Sam, with a wicked grin, added, “Yeah, and maybe avoid giving her any challenges for a while. Unless you’re ready for her to turn you into the next Renaissance masterpiece again.”

Bucky groaned, dropping his head into his hands again. “I’m good. Thanks.”

As the laughter continued to ripple through the group, Steve, ever the instigator, grinned at Bucky and raised an eyebrow. "At least she didn’t talk about your lovemaking, buddy. Could’ve been worse.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in horror, but before he could even respond, Yn returned to the table, having just come back from the restroom. She caught Steve’s comment, her ears clearly perked up, and with a playful smirk, she leaned forward, looking directly at Bucky.

“Do you want me to, Bucky?” she asked sweetly, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

Bucky’s heart stopped, and he turned to her, panic written all over his face. “No. No, no, no. I am begging you—please don’t.”

The rest of the table, however, erupted in enthusiasm, completely ignoring Bucky’s pleas.

“Yes!” they all chorused, grinning from ear to ear.

Sam leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Please, Yn, I think we all want to hear that.”

Thor nodded eagerly. “Yes, Bucky’s lovemaking... told through the lens of an art professor! It would be an epic tale, worthy of legends.”

Nick smirked, joining in. “You’ve already turned the guy into a sculpture—now we need the full masterpiece.”

Bucky slumped back in his chair, his face going bright red as he stared up at the ceiling, looking like he was seconds away from total defeat. “Guys, no. This is my final plea. Mercy.”

Yn, still smiling, simply gave him a wink and took a sip of her drink, clearly letting Bucky off the hook this time. “Alright, alright... I’ll save that for another time.”

Bucky exhaled in relief, slumping back in his chair. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

[onlyseokmins]

Thinking abt solo pornstar!mingyu and the pretty director of adult videos who's his favorite to shoot with...

You always get the best angles of him but you're constantly saying it really doesn't have much to do with you doing anything above your normal job duties - he's literally just perfect.

"Look at how your big, chunky hands make your weeping dick look even bigger and chunkier. That's all you."

But ofc he insists it's truly thanks to your talents with a toothy grin.

He really is perfect though, you're just working with the art given to you... chiseled muscles, defined abs, sharp jawline, thick thighs, bulging biceps, veined forearms, long dark hair, and a perfect fucking cock - curved, girthy, and long in all the best ways. He's even got a sweet personality outside of whatever dirty character you'll assign to him.

"Am I doing things right? Being good enough for you?"

Oh yes, he is.

Zooming in on his cock all the time is insanely torturous. Adjusting the camera in all directions to get the most appealing view (which is hard to decided when there are so many) and directing the movements as he basically eye-fucks you while fisting that nice dick of his at the rhythms you're dictating.

You keep things professional bc that's what you are and you have many clients, actors, and sponsors... In fact, you're well respected in the porn community and frankly, you're not going to ruin that reputation with a momentary fling between one of your best stars. A crown you wear that, while burdensome, was earned through years of hard work, bad and good experiences, tough lessons, unsavory people, and long hours upon hours.

However, that all changes the night you come home to your boyfriend - after he visited you earlier on set with a different actor - stroking his cock to mingyu's latest video. His steamy glasses reflect the glaring shot of mingyu's beautiful cock and the fleshlight nearly falling apart with how hard his strong fingers squeeze around it.

Your shared bedroom is filled with the slick sounds of wonwoo's pants and the sinful moans coming from his huge speaker set-up. Thanks to the insane amount of lube you'd instructed mingyu to use while he bullies his way inside of the slippery toy, it's messy, wet, and loud. His whimpers and grunts echo and echo while all you can do is just re-envision his abs flexing and jaw clenched. Seeing them in real-life is different to the image on your partner's computer screen.

That moment goes back when you were wondering if behind those lust-filled eyes, mingyu was thinking of you and what your pussy might feel like. Knowing you were probably soaking your panties watching his hips thrust at erratic speeds but unable to do anything about it.

Luckily, wonwoo is always more than happy to assist you like the sweet, caring man that he is. His older audio streams were still popular, framed as the "cool-headed man" that had incredible stamina and could edge himself for hours on end. Yet, he crumbles beneath you, especially when you ride his tense thighs enthusiastically and then bounce on his cock even more enthusiastic whenever you're all riled up after an intense day of (mostly) well-endowed, cock filming.

And he knows you need to use him more than ever on days with mingyu. And his eyes sparkle at the tentative suggestion you make. Your boyfriend is no stranger to the adult videos you create, it's not unusual for him to watch and/or masturbate... you're just that good at your job - you weren't lying to mingyu.

Yet this is the first time he's show interest in the actor themselves starring in your camera lenses and not the premise alone. So, of course he's down to invite mingyu to bed... And even more obviously... the man in question himself is more than eager to agree.

Yeah, maybe one day it's no surprise when they suggest a scandalous script of a director fucking themselves on two pornstars and their cunt-destroying cocks... And who better to star in it than you, mingyu, and wonwoo?

[ella-error505]

(unsolicited OC lore)

Celebrimbor quickly realizes that “Who Naurind look like?” has become a recurring theme in Eregion; people tell him that she resembles him in her first months, but to him, it makes no sense. The child is a newborn, looking like a very red and wrinkled raisin, like all babies. But he simply accepts the comments with a smile because he is so happy with his child that not even the need to correct the nonsense (an instinct deeply rooted in his family) can shake him out of his cloud of happiness.

When Naurind grows up, she soon becomes a happy child, loved by all. The Realm's Delight, Princess of Eregion (for he can make his daughter princess of his realm if he wants), and Celebrimbor know that she looks like his mother. No one else knows that, no one remembers his mother beyond a rare mention in history. The only wife of Fëanor's sons that followed her husband to Middle-earth, and died for it in one of the battles. No one remembers what she looked like, but Celebrimbor does. At first, he was determined to let people know and would comment on the resemblance. But over the years, it became a sweet secret that he kept jealously in his heart, and he never told anyone how she had his grandmother's eyes, the shape of her lips, and that furious determination that was hard to break. Yes, Naurind had the Feanorian nose too, that perfect right angle, and Finwe's chiseled jaw, but she looked more like her grandmother than any other relative, and that was something Celebrimbor held dear for his own happiness.

But by the time Naurind has reached adulthood, a fear takes root in his heart and mind, for Celebrimbor cannot stop seeing his grandfather in his daughter. She grows angrier, argues with him, and confronts his decisions (with good reason; she had begun to see through Annatar's lies, and it was not anger she felt; Naurind is growing more desperate by the day). Near the end, Celebrimbor sees his daughter's movements becoming more and more like her great-grandfather's every day, in a chilling way. The way she stands proudly, the way she walks through the keep, or the way she speaks at council meetings, it is all Fëanor in a way he cannot ignore (he makes the same gestures too; Naurind takes them from him, just as Celebrimbor took them from his father, and Curufin from his own father; but he does not see it that way; Celebrimbor does not see many things now); The court splits before his own eyes, with some siding with Naurind in not trusting the Lord of Gifts, and others loyal to Annatar and his teachings. Tensions flare when one man loses an eye, but Annatar assures Celebrimbor that it was an accident, so he calls it a day despite Naurind's plea for justice. She loses her temper, grabs the dagger from Celebrimbor's belt, and attacks Annatar. The two share sharp words, and in the end, Naurind manages to land a cut on Annatar's arm before backing away, but she doesn't look victorious (nor does she feel that way).

In the Halls of Mandos, where the tapestries hang telling the history of the Elves in Middle-earth, there is a one showing Naurind leaving Eregion the morning after that incident, defeated in the fight for her father's trust, and hoping that her absence will do more good than harm (Naurind had never left her father's side for long since she was a baby, perhaps her absence would help him see things more clearly, and he would come to find her in the end, that was her hope). There, Curufin believes that Naurind is the spitting image of Celebrimbor when the two of them parted ways in Nargothrond.

[strangelythirsty]

Three Card Monte - [3/7]

Pairing: Yelena Belova/Kate Bishop

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,890

Chapter: Interlude I

Summary: Yelena is a good art thief, but there's just something about Bishop Security's heir and white knight, Kate Bishop, that has her rethinking her approach for this heist. There was the intelligence and thoroughness, not to mention that she was full of surprises, that was a bad combination for her. She was so going to get caught, and that was embarrassing.

AKA, a Leverage AU

PREVIEW

Kate was good at recognizing faces, it came with the job. Of Holly’s friends there was doughy-faced blond, sharp angles brunette, big forehead brunet, chiselled jaw red-head, and of course, wispy blonde Holly. So, seeing a new addition, especially after all this time, it had Kate paying extra attention. The new person was round faced, black haired. And as she observed her entry, there was just the split second of recognition that crossed her face before it smoothed into a neutral, bland expression. So quick, at first she thought she imagined it. Afterwards everything about the woman seemed relaxed, casual, even slightly snobby like the rest of Holly’s friends. Except. Except. There was that crinkle on her nose as she laughed. No way.

Link to AO3: here

[kjmcotton]

Art is justice-Jongin

From the Halloween advent calendar🎃

Kim Jongin x general!reader

Living statue!AU

Warnings:splatter content,death

If sensitive,please,don’t read

Art. That was it:art in its purest form.

White,smooth marble that,thanks to your own hands and a few tools, had turned into the most beautiful non-human being you had ever seen.

You didn't know who or what he was meant to represent:he was just a feeling, a bad feeling you had to exorcise to leave a peaceful life;however, it turned into something beautiful.

The statue of a young,gorgeous man was now standing in front of you:his body wrapped up in a folded white tunic,a crown of laurel gently put on his head by an invisible god and,around him,skulls. So many skulls carved with deep,empty holes instead of lively eyes:some of them were broken, others just cracked,others perfectly untouched;and,around them, hungry crows looking for crumbs of meat.

The young man was staring at the massacre around him,sitting on something between a throne and a dead three,you didn't know what you had sculpted there,and you didn't want to know.

His gaze was lost in translation between rage,pain,revenge and hunger for blood;however you couldn't give him a precise identity:was he Apollo? Was he Hades? Was he just death? No one could tell,not even his creator.

You stepped closer to the statue,letting the chisel fall on the ground, and traced his jaw with your index. So smooth,so sharp,so perfect.

He was born exactly how you wanted him to be:the most beautiful,deadly creature your mind could think of;so,right in that moment,lead by pride,you decided you would’ve called him Jongin.

Jongin:the favourite between your children,the supreme exemplum of what your art had to be.

You were ready to show him to the world. You wanted him to be seen by all those critics and art buyers that laughed at your face when you proposed them your works,the most real transposition of your soul.

Your soul. A troubled one,a black hole so powerful and so full of feelings that it had been absorbed even by your new creation. Nobody believes it,but what our soul asks for is given by the universe.

That was why,suddenly,all those people who had called you talentless,ridiculous,unskilled started dying one after another,all in mysterious circumstances.

You didn’t ask yourself any question,you just watched them perish like flies burnt by the light of a street lamp while your statues had begun to fill the stands of the most famous exhibitions all around the world.

Finally,you were accomplished,you were happy. Justice had done her job,you thought,but…what was actual justice? Or who was?

Jongin was…but you would’ve found it out too late.

You had just come back to your studio,it was late at night and you were sure you had forgotten the keys of your new apartment there.

You closed the door behind your back,turning on the lights,just to notice that something was off…extremely off.

Jongin was sitting right in front of you,but you didn’t remember putting him so close to the door:he used to stand in the right corner,next to the sculpting tools.

You stared at him for a while,sure that his marble eyes weren’t so made of marble anymore.

Creeped out, you walked away too look at him from a different angle of the studio:everything seemed fine until…he turned around.

You startled,unwillingly pushing yourself against the wall,while Jongin stood up from his seat and walked towards you.

He grabbed you by the throat,staring into your soul without even owning pupils or irids.

You thought you had gone mad,but the truth was that you hadn’t:he was just applying the principles of justice he had somehow developed in his evil soul.

You indeed were a great artist,but you also were a terrible person to his eyes:you had wished death to so many people,and when they actually died,you were happy.

Was that right? It wasn’t to Jongin. They were evil,but you were even more evil. And the worst? The worst was that you made Jongin himself evil.

If he was a monster it was only because you shared a piece of your dark soul with him.

He couldn’t stand that. He was an innocent turned into a monster.

With all the rage he had in his body,he dragged your almost unconscious body towards the shelves holding your tools.

He analysed them carefully,immediately noticing the chisel you had used to sculpt him. Then,he grabbed it.

You knew what he was about to do,so you tried to fight back,but it was useless:with an homicidal move your own creation stuck the chisel in your throat,watching as your body fell in a puddle of blood.

Your cadaver laid there for days;on the wall behind it a clear message written with the red liquid:

Art is justice. Evil souls will be punished.