#and from across the table another friend just want ‘you know nothing says finger me like telling someone they have nice hands’

[buck-yyyy]

.

[imaginedisish]

Poker Face (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: OKAY! Here is the strip poker fic! This is not a request, but there are a few requests I really like, so I'm most likely going to write one of those next! Could not waste the opportunity to use Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" as the inspiration here. I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: You and Logan are alone in the mansion for the evening, and after a few drinks, your game of Blackjack turns into strip poker...

Warnings: 18+ Sexually Explicit Content MINORS DNI!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV, multiple orgasms, softdom!Logan(?), cocky!Logan, alcohol consumption (neither reader nor Logan get drunk), feelings, friends to lovers, strip poker!, f!reader/afab reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors (proofread this one between weird times), I think that's it!

Word Count: 4,025 how did I do that???

The house is empty. Quiet. It’s so strange, almost eerie, but honestly welcome. You can’t remember the last time you were ever so alone. Not lonely—alone. Comfortably and peacefully alone. 

Scott, Jean, and Storm took most of the children off on an overnight camping trip, while Hank, Kurt, and Charles were on a mission with some of the older mutants. Rogue and Gambit were out somewhere, leaving you and Logan in the mansion alone. 

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, back to the window, looking out at the empty room. Everything is untouched—neatly put away. You know things will be back to normal by tomorrow afternoon—dishes in the sink, shoes all over the floor, kids shouting down the halls. But for now, there’s nothing. No disruptions. No—

“Oh, hey,” Logan mumbles, stepping through the doorway and into the kitchen. “Didn’t know you were in here.”

You smile, trying your best not to let your eyes flit up and down his body. He’s wearing one of his tight beaters and a pair of jeans. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him—if you said that being alone in the mansion with him wasn’t somewhat overwhelming. You’ve wanted Logan since the day you joined the X-Men, just a few months ago. And while you’ve become close friends, you know it’ll never progress further than that. 

“Wanna join me?” You ask, tilting your head to the chair across from you. 

Logan smirks and nods. He walks to the fridge, swings open the French doors, and reaches inside. “Got something for us, actually,” he says, glasses clinking as he rummages through the fridge. He pulls out whatever he’s looking for, turning around, and revealing a 6-pack of beer. 

“No way!” You shout excitedly. “Logan Howlett, breaking the rules as always.”

He sits down across from you, placing the beers in the center of the table. “You know you love it,” he husks, grinning widely. 

You can feel the heat rising to your chest. He’s right. “I do,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t catch on to the implications of your words. If he does, he doesn’t show it. He grabs a beer by its neck, pops off the cap with ease, and holds the bottle out towards you. Your fingers brush his as you take the beer from him, his hands warm and surprisingly soft. The contact is fleeting, effervescent. You wish he could touch you again. 

You bring the bottle to your lips, the cold beer a distraction from your all-too-hot thoughts. You watch as Logan pulls a bottle for himself, his muscles flexing as he removes the cap. He brings the bottle to his mouth and knocks it back, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

“So…” You trail off, doing your all to ignore the way his tongue swipes across his upper lip as he places the beer back down on the table. You take another swig of your beer, ready to down the entire thing just to give yourself the confidence to say something. “D-did you wanna do anything?” You take another big gulp. 

Logan smiles. “Not sure,” he says, taking a sip. “You got anything in mind, princess?”

Your heart flutters at the familiar nickname. You rub a finger up and down the beer bottle, streaking the condensation. “We could play a game,” you offer, your eyes finding his. “Cards?”

Logan hums in affirmation as he knocks his beer bottle back again. He’s already practically finished. “You wanna play Blackjack?” He asks, taking a final sip before standing up and walking over to the kitchen island. He rifles through a couple of drawers before finding a pack of cards. He sits back down across from you, grabbing another beer and cracking it open. 

“Sure,” you answer, watching as Logan slips the cards from their box and expertly shuffles them. He thumbs the cards, dexterously letting them slide through his long fingers. He deals you the first card, face up, and then does the same for himself. You have a king of hearts, and Logan has a five of diamonds. He deals again, and you’re given a nine of clubs. It’s a good hand. Better than Logan’s, so far. He deals himself another card, looking at it briefly before putting it face down on the table. 

He smirks up at you. “Hit, or stay?” He asks.

You roll your eyes. “Stay, obviously.” He shakes his head, smiling as he deals himself another card. 

“Well, princess,” he says, showing you all three of his cards now. Five of diamonds, queen of hearts, and six of spades. “Looks like I won.” He’s smug as he grabs your cards and shuffles them back into the deck. 

You scoff and let him deal you in again.

You’ve only had two drinks, but there’s something about being with Logan that makes you feel like you’re drunk. You’ve been playing Blackjack for almost forty-five minutes now, round after round. Despite this being a game of chance, it seems like Logan wins far more often than you do. 

And yet, something gives you the sudden confidence to up the ante. 

“Lo?” You ask, taking a swig of your third beer, now. He looks up at you and hums, dealing the next round. You lean across the table. “What if we…” you trail off. “Made this more exciting?” 

Logan looks across the table under hooded eyes. You can sense the sudden shift in his expression, and you know he can sense the suggestiveness in your voice. The corner of his mouth turns up—a sly, half smile. “Exciting how, princess?”

You’re nervous now—all talk and no action. “Maybe we could bet somehow?” You offer, but Logan knows that���s not truly what you mean. He cocks his head, eyes narrowing.

And then he says exactly what you’re thinking—as if he can read your mind. “What about strip poker?” 

Your eyes widen and you swallow harshly. Logan is focused on you, still folding the cards into each other. You finally nod your head. “Sure, sounds fun.” 

Logan quickly deals the first cards. You have an ace, and Logan has a ten of diamonds. He places another card down for you—seven of clubs—and another face down for himself. 

“Hit or stay?” He asks, his eyes set on yours. He’s leaning closer to you than he was before. 

You take a deep breath. “Stay,” you answer, your voice trembling ever so slightly now. 

Logan shakes his head. “Wouldn’t have mattered anyway,” he says, flipping over his second card. It’s an ace of hearts. He collects your cards without another word, but his eyes are still glued to you. 

You bite your lip nervously and decide to tug away your sweatshirt. You’re wearing a thin tank top underneath, much to your relief. Logan’s eyes flit up and down your body, drinking you in. 

You drape the sweatshirt across the back of your chair, your eyes narrowing in Logan’s direction. “You have to be cheating,” you accuse sarcastically.

Logan grins ear to ear as he deals again, looking down at the table. “Just lucky,” he says, the words stopping your heart. “Very lucky.” He looks back up at you. Your breath catches in your throat. 

There’s a four of hearts in front of you this time. You roll your eyes at the low card. Logan—naturally—has a jack of diamonds. He places another card in front of you, a nine of clubs, and another face down for himself.

“Hit,” you mutter before he can ask the question. He places a seven of diamonds in front of you and shakes his head. He reveals his other card: an eight of spades. You smile widely, self-satisfied as you grab your beer by the neck and take a long swig. You lean back in your chair, watching as Logan pulls his beater up and over his head. 

He’s perfect, you think to yourself. Sure, he’s all chiseled abs and muscles, but he truly is beautiful. And you hope he knows it. “Happy now?” He asks, dealing the next hand. 

Heat spreads across your chest and down to your stomach. Your clothes feel tight, itchy. You try your best to ignore the way Logan makes you feel—to ignore the way you long to press your thighs together for some sort of friction. You—very obviously—are failing horrifically. 

“Hit, or stay?” Logan asks. You’re so distracted by him that you completely missed the deal. You look down to see an eight of hearts and a six of diamonds. Logan has a king of spades face up, and his other card face down. 

You raise your eyebrows, mulling it over in your mind. “Hit,” you finally spit out, and Logan deals you a ten of clubs. 

Oh. 

“Well shit,” you mumble. Logan chuckles as you stand up, struggling to decide what to take off. You look down at your athletic shorts and decide those are the next to go. You slip them down your legs and place them on the back of the chair with your sweatshirt. 

Logan’s throat bobs as his eyes trail up and down your legs. He isn’t laughing anymore; there’s something serious in his eyes, something dark. He works his jaw as you sit back down across from him. He looks pained as he deals the next hand. 

You cock your head to the side as he places a queen of hearts in front of you. “Are you okay?” You ask.

“’M’fine,” he answers curtly, drawing an ace of diamonds for himself. He quickly places another card down for you—a five of spades—and another face down for him. 

But you can tell there’s something wrong. It’s the way he moves, the way he fidgets in his seat. You reach out tentatively across the table, your fingers brushing against his. “Logan,” you soothe. “We don’t have to play if you don’t want to.” 

His eyes find yours, and he smiles softly, looking at your cards and then flipping his over. He got it. Twenty-one. Blackjack. “I think this game is almost over,” he says, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. 

You roll your eyes and grab the hem of your tank top, slowly pulling it up your body and over your head. Now all that’s left is your sports bra and your panties. You look across the table, and there’s Logan, eyes locked on you. “One more round?” You ask. 

But he ignores you, pushing out his chair, standing up, and walking over to you. “No,” he murmurs. “I think we’re done with the game.” He pulls your chair out from the table and leans down over you, placing his hands on either armrest, caging you in. 

His eyes are dark and filled with lust, his lips just centimeters from yours. Your noses brush, his breath fanning across your cheeks. You can smell him—the pine and musk and tobacco, his shampoo, a hint of mint. 

“L-Lo,” you stutter, your heart beating out of your chest as he leans in closer. There’s something animalistic, something primal about the look in his eyes. 

“I know you want me, pretty girl,” he husks. “Could smell that pussy crying for me before you even took those little shorts off.” 

“I-I,” you stutter, unable to form a coherent thought, no less a sentence. Your thighs rub together involuntarily at Logan’s words, searching for friction, for relief. 

Logan chuckles darkly. “Yeah,” he hums, one hand dropping from the armrest and slipping in between your thighs. “That’s what I thought, princess.” 

He pushes your legs open, his fingertips trailing along your inner thigh, slowly climbing higher. He finally reaches your heat and two of his fingers drag teasingly through your clothed folds, up to your clit. “Haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already soaked,” Logan growls, stroking you through your panties. “Making a mess of the chair, hm?”

“Logan,” you whine, his fingers circling your clit and then pulling away. Before you can protest the loss of contact, he’s hoisting you up and out of the chair, his hands squeezing your ass, holding you tightly in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist and bring your hands to the nape of his neck.

He carries you through the kitchen and into the hallway. He stops in his tracks and pushes your back against the wall, his lips finally finding yours. The kiss is rushed and frantic, like he just has to have you now, like he’s so hungry he’d die if he waited another second. He grinds his hips into yours, his erection straining through his jeans. 

“Need you, darlin’,” Logan mumbles against your lips, his chest heaving in time with yours. “Needed you this whole time.” He finally steps away from the wall and heads towards the stairs. You thread your fingers through Logan’s hair as he bites your lower lip, your pulse point, kissing you anywhere he can as he walks up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

He closes the door with a kick, and strides over to the bed in the center of the room, placing you down in the middle and crawling over you. His lips find yours again, his tongue darting out and sliding over your bottom lip, silently asking to be let inside. How could you ever say no? How could you ever not give him whatever it is he wants?

Logan balances on his forearm as his free hand trails up your body, warm and soft and soothing. He finds the hem of your bra and pulls the fabric over your tits. You arch your back, helping him slip it off the rest of the way. He finds your breasts, massaging gently before teasingly rolling your nipple under his thumb. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he huffs, moving to your other breast, pawing at the flesh, rolling over your nipple again, pinching lightly. His knee is settled between your legs, keeping you spread open for him. Your hips involuntarily rock against him, your needy core sliding up and down his thigh, searching for relief. 

Logan smiles against your lips and swallows your moans with a kiss before his touch suddenly disappears. His knee is no longer between your legs—the delicious friction gone. Your eyes flutter open and closed as he crawls down your body, kissing his way to the hem of your panties. 

“Lo,” you whimper as he places a chaste kiss to your clothed clit. “Please,” you beg, squirming underneath him. 

His arm latches around your waist, holding you down to the mattress while his other hand hooks inside the waistband of your panties. He tugs teasingly, taking his time as he slides your panties down your legs and tosses them off to the side. Logan settles himself between your thighs, his breath fanning against your cunt.

His arm is still firmly pushing you down into the mattress as he brings his face closer to where you need him most. “Wanna taste this pretty pussy, darlin’,” Logan grunts, and his tongue swipes through your folds, dragging across your slit and up to your clit. 

You curse under your breath as Logan licks another long stripe, his tongue finishing with a flick to your clit. “So fucking sweet,” Logan murmurs against you, the bass and vibration of his voice sending a burst of pleasure up your spine. “Knew you’d taste so good, pretty girl.” 

Logan pulls you closer to him, burying his face into your cunt like a man starved. He takes your clit between his lips, sucking roughly. His fingertips slide up your inner thigh, drawing higher and higher until he finds your folds. 

“Such a fucking tease,” Logan mutters, spreading your slick, prodding your entrance. “Using cards as an excuse to take your clothes off for me.” He shoves two fingers deep inside you as his tongue circles your clit. “Wanted me that bad, huh?” You can feel him smiling against you, all smug as he pulls his fingers from your slit and plunges back in. 

“Y-yes,” you stutter. His grip is like iron across your hips, keeping you in place, stopping you from squirming. “Wanted y-you so fucking bad.” 

He pumps his fingers in and out, down to the knuckles as he laps at you. He sucks at your clit again, harder this time. “I know, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, his thumb rubbing against your hip as his thrusts become faster, deeper. You’re already shaking underneath him—a trembling mess. “I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he coos. 

His tongue flicks your clit, swirling around the bud, adding more pressure with every stroke. Your walls flutter around his fingers, taking him in deeper. “Logan,” you whine, growing closer with every pump. “I-I—”

You’re cut off as he adds a third finger. “That what you needed, princess?” Logan asks, all cocky and self-assured. Your back arches off the mattress and Logan tightens his grip on your hips, holding you down as he devours you. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m finished with you.”

Your muscles clench around him at the words. His teeth graze lightly against your clit as he pulls the bud into his mouth, sucking roughly. “Lo…” You trail off, unable to use any semblance of language to communicate the way he’s making you feel. 

“Taking me so good, darlin’,” Logan praises, his fingers fucking into you unrelentingly. “Such a good fucking girl.” 

You’re so close, almost at that edge, pleasure burning through your every nerve ending. “’L-Lo I’m so—” you choke out.

“So fucked out that all you can say is my name,” Logan teases, sucking on your clit between sentences. “Wanna feel you come around my fingers.” He pushes himself in deeper. “Wanna taste it.”

“F-fuck,” you stutter, contracting around him uncontrollably. The tension building in your stomach finally snaps, the fire set free to burn through your body. “Logan!” You cry out, chanting his name like it’s a sacred prayer. And maybe it is.  

“I’ve got you,” Logan soothes, his tongue still lapping at you, his fingers still thrusting in and out. “I’m right here, let go for me.” He works you through your orgasm, his pumps slowing down as you ride out your high.

He pulls his fingers from your cunt, but his face doesn’t move. He’s still lapping at you, his tongue swiping through your folds, your slit, up to your clit. He’s drinking you in, savoring the taste of you. 

“Lo,” you whimper, running your hands through his hair, trying to guide him up your body. But he doesn’t budge. He grunts against your core, his tongue dragging through your heat. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

He licks one more long stripe through your folds before finally lifting his head to look up at you. Your release is painted across his lips, glistening in the moonlight. His tongue darts out, licking away the proof of your orgasm. 

“Need me, sweetheart?” He asks, sitting up, unbuckling his belt and letting it fall to the floor with a clink. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls his zipper down. “Need me to fuck you?” You nod, settling into the pillows at his headboard as he tugs his jeans and boxers down his legs. 

His cock springs free, bouncing against his stomach. You swallow nervously at the size of him. He settles on top of you, balancing on his forearm as he guides his cock to your entrance. 

Logan presses a chaste kiss to your lips as his tip nudges through your folds. “Thought about this for a long time,” he murmurs, the head of his cock bumping against your clit before sliding back down towards your entrance. His lips meet yours again, more hurried and hungry this time. “Always thinking about you.” And then he buries himself deep inside you, down to the hilt. He stalls, unmoving, giving you a moment to adjust to the size of him. He’s stretching you out, working you open. You grab his biceps, searching for purchase. Nothing could have prepared you for this, for the way he fills you up and makes you feel whole. 

“Feels so fucking good,” Logan whispers, pulling out and pushing all the way back in. “So tight, so perfect,” he praises, slowly setting a rhythmic pace, pumping in and out. 

His hand leaves the base of his cock and slips between your bodies, finding your clit—still sensitive from your first orgasm. His thumb strokes soft circles into the bud, drawing a moan from your lips. 

“Y-yes,” you pant as Logan plunges into you, faster and deeper with each thrust. You can feel him throbbing inside you, his cock dragging against your walls. It’s already too much—already more than you can handle. “F-feels so good, Lo.”

His hips snap against yours. “I know it does, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you. “Gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel good.” His words go straight to your core, your muscles contracting around him. He curses under his breath at the feeling, your pussy taking him deeper as he sinks inside you. “Squeezing me already, sweetheart.”

He’s fucking into you, his pace growing reckless and punishing. He adds more pressure to your clit, rubbing harder, faster. You don’t know how much longer you’ll last, not with his lips at the shell of your ear whispering praises. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he husks, his hips rocking against yours. “Taking me so good, doing so well for me.” He’s hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. He swallows your moans with starving, desperate, needy kisses—biting your lips, bruising them. He’s consuming you, taking everything you have to give him. 

He presses his forehead to yours, pounding into you, somehow finding a way to sink deeper inside. Your walls flutter around him, and you know you’re almost there. “Logan,” you croak, pushing your hips into his. 

“F-fuck,” he stammers, his cock twitching inside you, massaging your inner walls. “I know princess, know you’re close.” You can feel his thrusts faltering, growing sloppier. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, pretty girl.” You moan his name, wrapping your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he pumps in and out. “Come for me, darlin’.”

Logan pinches your clit and buries himself deep inside, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes into you, your walls clenching around him, squeezing him tighter. “Stay,” you whisper, and he knows what you mean—knows exactly what you’re asking for.

He curses under his breath and his head falls to your shoulder as he comes undone, too, filling you up, spilling inside you. Everything is liquid heat. Your muscles contract and relax, your shoulders melting into the mattress. Everything feels hazy as Logan gently strokes your clit, thrusting in and out of you slowly, riding out your orgasms. 

He finally pulls out, wrapping his arms around your back and rolling you over so that you lay on top of his chest. He holds you close, his fingers trailing up and down your back. He kisses the crown of your head. “You okay?” He whispers into the silence of the room. 

“Yeah,” you answer, burying your face into his chest. “’M’perfect.”

He presses another kiss to the top of your head. “Wanted you for so long, princess,” he husks, his voice deep and raspy. 

“Wanted you, too, Lo,” you say, pressing a kiss to his chest. 

You can hear his heart beating; can hear every breath he takes. You can even hear the smile in his voice. “You have a terrible poker face, you know.”

You laugh softly, lifting your head from his chest. “I think it’s just fine, thank you very much.” He’s smiling down at you, his hair a mess, sweat still on his brow. He’s perfect. So fucking perfect. “And besides, you’re the one who suggested strip poker.”

He shakes his head, tugging you back down to his chest. “Should’ve played it sooner.” You can feel his chuckle reverberate through his lungs. “We can play again if you want…”“…but this time we skip the poker part.”

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr

[gutsby]

Mouthful

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller thinks he’s strong enough to quit it, but something in the way you suck him says he isn’t.

Warnings: 18+. A man with a big, bad oral fixation + lots of love for a sneaky succ. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Age gap. Blowing Joel under the table at dad’s birthday dinner.

Snippet of Hating Game

He knows better than to let a moan slip at a time like this. Not when he’s sitting at the dinner table; not when he’s surrounded by the people he knows and loves the most. Not when he’s celebrating his best friend’s 51st birthday, and certainly not when that man’s daughter is perched between his thighs, out of sight from every eye but his.

Joel lifts the tablecloth. He almost unloads on the spot.

Seeing your mouth open wide and your lips curled tight around his hot, throbbing member, Joel can’t help but ache for a split-second lapse of judgment—one where he forgets all sense of decorum and simply goes to town on that pretty little face. But, as it is, the rest of the party is totally oblivious to your absence, and he doesn’t want to draw attention to it, or him, by roughfucking your mouth.

That’ll come later.

No, now he’ll let you glide your mouth gently over his shaft, leaving trails of thick spit and hints of a shiny pink lip gloss in its wake. He’ll let you bob your head softly—self-assured in a pace you get to set—and he won’t lay a finger on your face or let a thrust of his get in the way, because this was all about you giving him the pleasure.

That doesn’t mean he can’t steal a glimpse every now and then and pin you with an expectant look when he wants something done a certain way. The room is dimly lit and everyone in it drunk; Joel will gladly take the risk.

‘You can go deeper than that, sweet pea.’

‘Nope, three-fourths ain’t enough, I need your mouth around me whole.’

‘You did wanna make daddy feel good, didn’t ya, sugar?’

He doesn’t have to speak a word of it for you to know what he means. What he needs. You loosen your jaw and stretch your lips even wider, whining just a little when the head of his cock grazes your tonsils.

“Fuck that feels nice,” Joel says aloud.

You freeze.

Then, without missing a beat, you hear him continue just as comfortably, speaking to the people around him,

“Y’all feel that breeze comin’ in?”

Sick fuck. You continue to suck him anyway.

One hand braces tight against Joel’s leg and the other flits shamelessly between your own, and you try not to moan, but the sound escapes anyway. No one hears it, but Joel feels it reverberate down his shaft, and he grips his glass of Merlot like a vice. Your dad shoots him a curious look from across the table but says nothing.

“Can’t get enough’a her, huh?” Tommy grins beside him.

“What?” Joel falters. Sets his drink aside carefully.

Down below, you drag your mouth just far enough to take his tip between your lips and suckle. Joel grunts.

“The wine,” Tommy says, still smiling, “You must love it.”

Joel lets out another strangled breath that he tries to pass off as a chuckle and nods.

“Got me on my fuckin’ knees,” he admits.

And that’s the truth. Starved for air and blinking through tears as you kneel down to blow him, it’s still you with the chokehold on Joel, and both of you know it.

Try as you might to convince yourselves otherwise, the man is enrapt. It’s just that small matter of you being his best friend’s daughter that makes Joel loath to admit it. At any rate, he has your tongue licking stripes up his cock and feels a sudden, sharp clench in his stomach.

He knows he won’t last much longer. Neither will you.

Joel can’t see it now, but you’ve practically soaked your own hand from how hard you’ve been rubbing your clit—and how turned on you are from just sucking his dick, keeping your mouth wide open for a fucking whenever he wants it. While Joel reaches for another draught of wine, you bring one hand to his balls and keep the other at your cunt, triple-tasking like the efficient little slut he needs you to be: sucking, cupping, and rubbing all at once to get the two of you off in one minute or less.

You guide him down to the furthest place in your throat, then push him even deeper. You gag, just slightly, and feel a hand reach down for your cheek. A thumb starts to rub at the tears welled up at the corners of your eyes.

‘Sweet thing hasn’t felt a man this deep before, huh? Wanna swallow some more?’

You nod that you do. Can’t actually hear him now, or see much else besides the soft tufts of hair on his belly, but you can feel a light, heady warmth seep into your brain.

You rut your hips and hope no one drops a fork nearby. Buck desperately into your hand and feel the heat start to swell to a whole new feeling, and suddenly you’re whimpering, whining on Joel’s cock from under the shade of the table and cumming all over your fingers.

Joel returns a quick smile from your father and cracks a joke about the Super Bowl. Raises his hips just the slightest bit and wipes one of your tear-soaked cheeks.

‘Almost there, hon, keep that throat open for daddy.’

All you can do is cry and try your best. Wild feelings from both the slow, deep facefuck he’s giving you and the flurry of euphoric aftershocks coursing all throughout your body make it almost impossible to bear, but you obey your sweet and strong and steady-handed Joel and sense a blossoming desire crop up for something else.

You want to taste him as he blows his load in your mouth, floods your tongue with his spend, and paints every inch of your insides with that hot, sticky stuff.

You need him whole

Your Joel.

In tune with your thoughts—or perhaps just overcome with a need to see you before he reaches his peak—Joel raises the tablecloth when Tommy isn’t looking. His gaze locks on yours and his tongue darts quick between his lips. He cocks a brow. Brushes his thumb up again.

‘Ya want this, darlin’? Want all of me?’

You give one soft, wide-eyed nod, and that’s all he needs.

No sooner do you give him the green light than his cum goes pulsing out in ropes, coating your whole throat and eventually your mouth as you hold still and take it all.

There’s so much more than you thought. So much of Joel that’s been waiting to giving your mouth a proper fucking glaze that once he’s started he just can’t stop. Above the table, your dad shoots a pointed look in his direction—‘You good, man?’—and it takes every ounce of strength in Joel’s body to grit his teeth tight and nod.

He’s filled so much of your mouth it’s spilling out now.

You try to hold steady, keep your movements extra slow. You’d heard your dad’s voice and just know there’d be a lot more on the line than Joel’s dribbling seed if either one of you fuck up now. Your breath catches in your chest, and you feel too afraid to even swallow.

“I just…came,” Joel starts, and your head almost cracks on the wood surface from how abruptly you flinch back,

“—to the realization. That you are so…fuckin’ old, man.”

Your father’s laugh is the first thing you hear, followed by Tommy, your friends, and a dozen other party guests.

The next thing you feel, to your complete and utter shock, is Joel’s cock brushing your cheek. Then your lips. Then your tongue. He slides his still-hard member through the ‘o’ your mouth has made in awe and starts to move in gentle motions back and forth, like a man all but desperate to get a feel for your wet, sodden walls.

A man who can’t risk a glimpse at you now, but wants more than anything to see the mouth he’s just filled.

Your father’s words haven’t even cooled in the air.

Joel Miller, you sneaky, freaky fuck.

As the laughter subsides and Tommy scoots back in his chair, taking leave of your table, you feel a spark ignite. Whether it’s yours or Joel’s or both your perverted minds suddenly alight and insane, you can’t be sure, but you can make out a tablecloth flipping back up above you.

Joel slips his dick out of your mouth and grins. Takes a firm hold of your face under the table so his fingers are practically coaxing your jaw to unhinge before him.

It’s the lowest, slowest, menacing sort of sound you’d ever heard from him before, but it was his all the same.

Speaking to you now, softly, “Show daddy, darlin’.”

Your Joel.

[godslino]

HARD LAUNCH | minho drabble. established relationship.

“Do you guys have french fries?”

“Minho.” you hiss, nudging his shin beneath the table.

He cocks an eyebrow before turning back to the waitress. She smiles softly, laughing at the two of you. 

“We do, yes.” 

“Wonderful,” Minho grins, “We’ll have a side order of those too.”

“Perfect. I’ll put that in for you guys and check back soon.” The waitress says happily, collecting the menus and scurrying off to tend to another table.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you groan, covering your face with your hands. 

“Why would you do that?” 

Minho chuckles, shakes his head probably. You wouldn’t know since you can’t see him.

“Do what?”

Still using one hand to cover your eyes, you pull the other away, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction. “I told you I’d be fine. Why’d you have to ask for french fries? That’s so embarrassing.”

Minho hums. Unbothered. “You know what’s worse?”

“Literally nothing.” you mumble, returning your other hand to your face. It only serves to muffle your voice more. “This is humiliating. We’re in a nice restaurant and you ordered french fries because of me. Oh God. I’m going to hide in the bathroom.”

A good choice, you think. Minho’s in god damn slacks for crying out loud. Every second that passes is another second that your pity order of french fries is probably spending in the deep fryer, right next to the lobster tail and shrimp tartar that everyone else has a mature enough palate to eat. 

Before you can move to get up and make a beeline for the toilet, you feel Minho’s fingers wrap around your wrists, pulling until your hands give way to your face. You crack one eye open and then the other, his amused expression coming into view.

“What’s worse than ordering french fries is me knowing you’ll be hungry if there isn’t something familiar for you on the table.” he says pointedly, like your reason for feeling embarrassed is unnecessary. “Besides, who said I didn’t want any?”

“Min, look around,” you say, turning your head to glance at the room, “The napkins are cloth. Cloth! Nicer than my bed sheets. We can’t be seen eating french fries in a place like this. I told you I’d be—”

“—fine. Because as long as you’re here I can do anything.” Minho recites, word for word, cutting you off. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks immediately, spreads like wildfire when Minho smiles and leans on to his forearms. His button up tightens over his shoulders, hugs his arms, sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

“Just like how you’re doing this for me, let me do something for you.” 

You and Minho have been seeing each other for four months now, but even at that, you’re still not used to his straightforwardness. 

Seeing Minho has been nothing short of a dream. What started as just interacting at parties because of mutual friends eventually gave way to him asking for your number, and then hanging out separate from your friend group, until one day he plucked up the courage to ask you out. Since then, the two of you have been inseparable, always spending every free moment together. Laughing, talking, even sometimes just existing in the same space. It’s nice. So, so nice.

“Shouldn’t I be the one blushing right now?” Minho teases.

“Shut up.” you say, tearing your gaze away from him.

He laughs again before reaching out and placing a hand on top of yours. Soft. Minho is unbelievably soft.

It’s the thing you love the most about him. But more than that, more than the delicate skin of his fingers or the brush of his lips against yours, you love the softness of his eyes.

Minho is hard to crack, his emotions shrouded most of the time. Not that he wants to be, but because that’s just how he operates, or so you’ve learned. 

But despite all of that, his eyes are a dead giveaway. When he’s looking at pictures of his cats, or staring at you from across the room, or right now as steaming plates of some of the finest cuisine Seoul has to offer are being placed in front of him.

“Holy shit.” he whispers, staring in awe as the waitress walks away from the table.

“Is it rude for me to take a picture? Like, would anyone get offended?” 

Minho scoffs. “Babe, I would be offended if you didn’t document this right now.”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, pulling out your phone.

“Do I get to be in it this time?”

You look up to find Minho pouting across the table. Another thing about your relationship— nobody knows yet. 

You’ve been teasing about the possibility of a boyfriend for two months now, you and Minho only having made it official about a few weeks ago. The most anyone has been able to see are carefully positioned photos where only his hand or other inconspicuous parts of him are visible.

It’s not that you don’t want people to know. It’s just hard with his job and all. Privacy reasons.

"For someone who likes to claim that people won't give me a hard time because of your fame you sure do seem eager to test that theory."

Minho smiles mischievously. “Well, yes. But I’m also waiting because I want to show you off.”

You busy yourself with opening your camera app to stop the heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah, yeah. You big flirt.”

Minho laughs but obliges, scoots back to let you get a good few pictures of the food. 

Photos aren’t enough to do it justice, though. So you opt for a video, scanning the table with your camera, only the bottom half of his torso visible across the table. A silk white button up only three-fourths of the way buttoned, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

Minho watches silently, his face unreadable. And then, at the last second, he dips his head down so fast you don’t even realize what’s happening until his face is fully in the shot, a shit-eating grin pushing his eyes into crescent moons.

“Min!” you laugh, ending the recording. 

He chuckles, straightening back out. “Post it.”

“Are you insane?”

“No, but I’m going to be if you don’t post it and then eat with me.” He nudges the plate of french fries towards you. “Come on.”

“You really want me to post it? You’re sure?”

Minho smiles. Soft. “Never been more sure about anything in my life.” he says, neither of you willing to address the weight of his words.

He grabs your hand, plants a kiss on the back of your knuckles. The resulting flip of your stomach is enough to give you the courage to hit post and tuck your phone away.

Whatever happens, you’ll deal with it later. Together.

[ tags: @102598s @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @palindrome969 @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @astronomicallyyy @doohnut @linocz @romancerry @djeniryuu @pinkpunkdynamite @pynchkilledme @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @liknws @beeracha @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: Anon request on tumblr - "This is probably a weird request but I think Jake has really attractive hands even with the cig fingers. Just imagine you guys are hanging out and you get distracted by his hands his fingers what they do to you Jake notices and is a cocky little shit teasing you and stuff. Then smut where he finger fucks you."

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, mentions of cigarettes and smoking, mentions of alcohol and drinking, reader smoking and drinking, friends to lovers, teasing, fingering, choking, hair pulling, oral (f rec), unprotected sex, general filth

Word count: 5.8k | not edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"Well look who finally made it." Colby says leaning back into the couch, "Thought you weren't coming."

Your eyes move to Jake and you fight a smile until he looks at you. You smile at him and he smiles back, nodding as he turns his attention back to Colby, "Yeah, well we would have been here sooner if someone.. not gonna say any names.." he nods his head towards Johnnie, "Didn't have to smother his face in black eyeshadow to come here."

Johnnie looks at Jake and sighs, "I'm sorry.. if this is how I feel comfortable. You don't have to be so mean."

Jake laughs and turns to Johnnie, "Sorry sweetie. My apologies." He shakes his head and looks around at everyone, "Hello, hey."

"Hey." You smile and hold your hand up, dropping it back down to bring your solo cup to your lips. Everyone greets them and they go and grab a drink, coming back to join the group.

"So. What are we doing?" Jake sits down on the floor next to the couch, which just so happens to be right next to you.

You've always had a thing for Jake. You didn't think it was noticeable until you seen Kat smirking at you from across the small coffee table.

You tilt your head and she subtly nods to Jake and you roll your eyes, finishing your drink, "Excuse me." You stand up, "Sorry, Jake."

"No worries." He smiles up at you and you make your way to the kitchen, Kat, not shockingly enough right behind you, "Girl."

"Don't." You laugh as you pour yourself another drink. She walks up, turning around to rest her lower back against the counter, eyes on you, "You should tell him."

"Tell who what?" You cap the bottle and look over at her, "There's nothing to tell to anyone." You pour some soda to mix your liquor.

"I know you like Jake, and don't tell me you don't because I see the way you look at him. Even Sam sees it."

Your head snaps to her, "He didn't say anything to Jake did he? I don't want it to be awkward." She shakes her head, "Not that I know of."

You take a sip of your drink, nodding as you swallow, "Good. Okay. Good." You nod towards the kitchen door, "Let's go."

You make your way back into the living room where everyone is chatting and laughing. Jake looks up at you, getting ready to move but you hold your hand out, "You're fine, Jake."

"Thanks. I have been feeling myself a lot lately." He chuckles and you scoff, "I didn't.. no.. okay." You don't argue, knowing you wouldn't win.

He smiles and brings his cup to his lips and your eyes trail down to his hand wrapped around his cup. You've always had a thing for hands, but as weird as it may be, Jake's hands, in particular, are one of your favorite sets of hands.

This isn't the first time his hands have caught - and kept, your attention.

And this isn't the first time that Jake noticed either.

He licks his lips, smirking to himself as he brings his arm up to rest on the end of the couch.

His hand dangling right above your thigh.

You chew on the inside of your lip, trying not to give it away that you're secretly wanting his hand resting on your thigh, or as a necklace but same difference, right?

You bring your cup to your lips, teeth clinging to the plastic rim as you desperately want someone to talk to you, mainly so your attention can be hooked on something else because with the few drinks you've already had, you're feeling .. a little enticed, to say the least.

"No, guys wait." Colby laughs and holds his hand up, "Jake." He points and Jake looks at him, "Colby."

Colby looks at Sam and back to him, "Do you remember the night at the Baltimore Hotel?"

Jake thinks for a moment and his eyes go wide, "No." he laughs slightly and lifts his hand up before letting it drop back down, fingers grazing your thigh, "Don't even bring that up."

Sam snaps and nods, "Oh shit. Yeah. That was fucking crazy dude."

Your eyes move to his hand, watching as he wiggles his fingers as he talks, "That was.." he blows air and shakes his head laughing, "I don't even.. want to open that can of worms again, bro."

"No that was just me trying to call him back home." Johnnie jokes and Jake points, "Well go with that." He laughs and you look at Kat confused. She gasps, "Oh that's right. Y/n wasn't around for that yet."

You laugh slightly, "Yeah, but if Jake doesn't want to-"

Jake cuts you off and bats the air with his hand, "Nah, tell her." He brings his drink up to his lips and you try so hard to listen as Colby explains.

But the way Jake rubs his fingers together and picks at the chipped nail polish on his nails makes it extremely hard.

"So.. we were doing this ritual thing with candles and it was me, Sam, Jake, and Corey. We all held hands and I believe it was Sam.." Colby points to Sam and he nods, "Yeah, I said something about.. oh fuck. What did I say?"

Sam thinks for a moment and Jake shrugs with a laugh, "Don't look at me, my ass was possessed."

"Be honest though, who wouldn't wanna possess that fine piece of ass." Johnnie comments and you tilt your head as you laugh with everyone else.

"You're the only one allowed to do that to me, big boy." Jake winks and purses his lips to Johnnie and you shake your head, bringing your cup up to hide your smile.

Jake's fingers brush against your leg again as he moves closer to the couch. You glance over at him with just your eyes and he does the same, giving you a smirk.

And in that moment, you knew what he was doing.

"So now that these two are done flirting.." you laugh slightly and look at Sam, "What were you saying?" You lick your lips, crossing your leg over the other which leaves your calf inches from Jake's fingers.

"Yeah, okay so.." Sam sits up slightly, "So from watching the video back, I said something about any of the spirits using our energy to give us a sign that they were with us.."

As Sam continues talking, you try your hardest to stay focused as Jake rubs his pointer finger up and down your nylon covered leg.

You swallow, trying to keep your excitement at bay as you nod along to Sam's story, "That's actually crazy."

"As soon as Jake snapped his head up, the candles that we had in front of us like all went out." Colby waves his hands in front of him and shakes his head, "That was a night that I know I won't forget."

Jake laughs, "That's a night that I try to forget."

"Well.." your eyes move from his hand, that's still tracing circling on your leg, to his face, "At least you're still alive."

"How much of that statement is really true though?" Johnnie shrugs as you look at him, "The Jake I know is dead inside."

Jake sighs dramatically, "Do you have to know me that well?"

"Yeah it's kinda my job, jerk." Johnnie shoots back and everyone laughs, "You guys are ridiculous." Kat laughs and sighs as she stands up, "I need a drink."

"Can you get me one, too, please?" Sam smiles at her as he holds out his cup. She grabs it with a smile, "I guess I can."

"I need one too." You go to get up but Jake puts his hand on your leg, "I'll get it" He stands up and reaches for your cup.

You place it into his hand, "Thank you."

He smiles, "Yep." He walks into the kitchen and Colby sighs, "Does anyone want to get me a drink?" You purse your lips together and Sam reaches over to pat his leg, "You're a big boy. You can do it."

Colby groans, "Why does no one love me."

"We love you, Colby. I just don't feel like getting up." Sam lays his head back and you raise your brows, "You alright there, Golbach?"

He gives you a thumbs up, "uh huh." You laugh and look at Johnnie, "So.. are you and Jake coming to my party next Saturday?"

He tilts his head, "You mean is Jake coming?"

You're caught off guard, questioning yourself, is it really that obvious?

"Well..yeah, but you too. That's why I said.. are you and Jake coming?" You laugh slightly and he smirks, "Jake can't stop yappin' about it. So I have no choice but to be there."

You roll your eyes playfully, internally smiling big, "mhm."

Jake and Colby come out laughing, followed by Kat who walks over to Sam. Jake comes over, this time sitting between you and Johnnie and he hands you your cup, "There ya be."

"Thank you, thank you." You take it, your fingers brushing against his and you can already feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

He rests his free hand on his thigh, making sure it's in perfect view for you to silently gawk at. You take a big sip of your drink and uncross your legs.

As the conversation pursues, Jake hand slowly migrates closer to your thigh. Every so often, his thumb will rub against your leg, making you stumble over your words, but you just blame it on the alcohol settling in.

You chew on your lip as your thoughts roam freely in your mind. His hands feeling every possible inch on your body.

How his fingers would feel dragging across your skin and even dipping inside of you.

Your eyes gaze his hand and up his arm and over to his other hand that's gripping his cup, completely forgetting that you're in a room filled with other people.

They're drunk so what's it matter.

"I need a cigarette." Jake says snapping you out of your lustful stare, "anyone else?" He looks around and sighs, "Fine. I'll go have one with all my other friends."

He squeezes your knee as he stands up, looking down at you as he moves in front of you. You glance up at him, smirking as you know you'll go ask him for a cigarette once he's already out having his.

You look from him as he leaves the room, to Kat who has a smirk on her face already staring at you. You nod subtly, indicating you want her to come with you.

She gets up and you walk to the kitchen, "This is probably weird but.." you turn to look at her and sigh, "Do you ever just look at someone's hands and think.. yes?"

She nods, "Oh yeah. I think that way about Sam's hands. He has some nice ones on him. So no. Not weird at all."

"Good because I cannot-"

She cuts you off, "Stop looking at Jake's hands. I know. I've been watching you and him and I'm telling you right now, you should just go for it."

You bite your lip as you set your cup down, "I think I will."

"Tell me everything." You grabs your arm and you nod, "Of course." You smile and look out the back sliding glass door, looking at Jake who's sitting in the patio chair.

You make your way over, gripping the handle and taking a deep breath before pulling it open, "Got room for one more?"

Jake looks back at you and smiles, "I don't know, table is pretty full as is." He ashes his cigarette and nods, "I can make room for you."

You walk over, sitting in the chair next to him, "Mind if I have one?" He looks at you kinda shocked, "Really?"

You nod, "I know it's such a bad habit." You smirk, laughing slightly, "I like to have a cigarette or two when I'm drinking."

"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" Jake hands you an unlit cigarette and you shrug, "I guess so." You look up at him as you place the stick between your lips.

He leans forward, extending his arm out and flicks the lighter on. He watches as you inhale, leaning back as you blow out the smoke, "Thank you."

He smirks, "Anytime." He crosses one leg over the other and his hand lays on his shin, "So.."

You look up at him, "So.." you watch at he brings his hand up, setting the cigarette between his lips. You know he knows you like them, why else would he be cocky and use them to flirt with you.

"What if I were to.. I don't know.. say that I know something isn't a surprise about you?" He rests his hand on the table after flicking off the ash.

Your eyes move from his hand to his eyes, "Oh yeah? What would that be exactly?"

He smirks as he silently counts his fingers on his free hand, "let's say.. five. Ten if you count the other hand." He winks and you poke your tongue out to the corner of your mouth as you smirk and nod, "You're going to call me out like that, huh?"

"Call you out on.. what exactly?" He takes a drag and tilts his head, "I don't wanna say it."

"Oh you want me to?" You use your thumb and point to yourself and he nods, "You don't have to.. but it would be nice if you did.."

"Why?" You slowly tilt your head, taking a drag of your cigarette and he scoffs, "Now, wait.. you ca- no. That's not fair." He laughs and shakes his head.

You smile and bite your lip, "Your hands are very alluring to me."

He looks at you and leans in, "What's alluring mean?"

You laugh slightly and leaning in as your eyes stay on his hands, "I like your hands, Jake. They're very.. sexy to me." You glance up at him and he smiles, "I know, I do have some pretty sexy looking hands."

You laugh and lean back, "So you know." You take the last drag of your cigarette before putting it out and he watching you, nodding, "oh yeah."

He taps the table, "So.. are my hands the main attraction or does everything else get to come with it?"

"I mean, I guess everything can come with." You tease and he pretends to wipe sweat from his forehead, "Phew. I was afraid I was going to have to am-pit-uate.. ampli-tate.." he sighs, "Take my hands off or something." He laughs at himself, "Whatever that term is."

"Amputate?" You raise your brows and laugh, "oh, Jake."

"Hey.. Don't make fun of me." He points and you bite your lip to hide your smile and he shakes his head, "And stop doing that too."

"Doing what?" You ask innocently as you slowly pull your bottom lip between your teeth again. He smirks and looks away while shaking his head slightly, "Alright. Two can play at this game."

He gently slaps the table and stands up. You stand up after and go to walk around him but his hand gently grabs your neck and he moves your body back in front of his, "So does this mean one of us is going home with the other?"

You look up at him, trying not to focus on how wet his hand on your neck is making you, "Considering all of the inappropriate thoughts I'm having.." you smirk, "..it would be concerning if that didn't happen."

He smiles as his eyes move from your eyes to your lips and back. Just as he goes to lean in, the sliding door opens and his hand drops from your neck.

"Totally not sorry for the interruption. I was told to retrieve the, as Kat said, handsy lovebirds, emphasis on the hands." Johnnie sighs, "..and before anyone tries to explain, I do not wish to know."

You try not to laugh as Jake fights back his laughter as he sighs, "Can't you ever just not be everywhere I am."

"I try. But you have this leash on me a little too tight, master." Johnnie chuckles and shakes his head, "I'm leaving now."

Jake shakes his head and laughs slightly as he looks back down at you, "Now before we get rudely interrupted again." He places his hand back on your neck, squeezing gently as he leans down to press his lips to yours.

You lay your hand on his, smiling within the kiss as you're ready to hightail it back to your place as fast as possible.

"We better get back inside before they send the Emo Pomeranian back out to yip at us." Jake laughs at his own joke and you shake your head, "Emo Pomeranian. I can't with you two."

He lays his arm over your shoulder as he walks you to the door, "Don't tell him I said that."

"Secrets safe with me." You laugh as he opens the door and Jake starts laughing at his joke once he sees Johnnie, "Dude.. I just called you an Emo Pomeranian."

"What.. the fuck." Johnnie shakes his head and looks down, "I can't say I'm surprised."

You look at Jake, "You just told me not to tell him." You laugh and Jake shrugs, "I'm sorry. I looked at him and he had to know that that's what he looks like."

Everyone else laughs and you shake your head as you sit down, Jake sitting next to you, "I'm sorry, Johnnie. Do you want to kiss and make up?"

"Actually.." Johnnie closes his eyes and leans in and Jake breaks and starts laughing, "I'm sorry. I can't. I love you, but I'm not drunk enough for that."

"You weren't drunk enough for last night." Johnnie gives Jake a side eye and Jake sighs, "Dude I thought we weren't going to talk about that."

Jake lays his hand on your thigh, sliding it up and down as he laughs and carries on with Johnnie. You knew he didn't have to have his hand there.

He wanted it there.

Every so often it would move up higher and you'd just wish you were alone with him already.

You rest your hands in your lap, close to his, and he extends his pinky out, slipping it under yours as he talks with your friends.

Your eyes stay locked on his hands, taking in all the detail of them. From his veins, to the creases over his knuckles.

The longer you looked, the more you needed them on other places of your body.

"Alright.. I'm going home." Jake looks over at you, "Do you need a ride?"

Before you can answer, Kat buts in, "Yes she does."

Jake's mouth drops and he looks at you shocked, "Wow. How did you say that without moving your lips? " he tries not to laugh but fails and you laugh, glaring at Kat but smiling at her as you nod, "Yeah, I'll get my car tomorrow."

You stand up, "Do you need help cleaning up?"

Kat shakes her head, "Nope. I'm good. Not much of a mess anyway." You nod, giving her an excited look as you put your coat on.

"Jonnie. Are you coming, too?" Jake points to him and he nods, standing up, "Catch you all later." He salutes the others and walks to the door.

"Thanks for the little get together." You smile and wave to Kat, laughing as Sam starts to snore quietly, "You guys better draw something on his face."

"Already on it." Colby laughs and you shake your head, "See you."

"Have fun." Kat smiles and you roll your eyes, knowing that you most definitely will have fun. You walk out to the car and go to get in the back but Jake snaps, "No, no. Y/n can sit upfront."

Johnnie stares at Jake, "But.. I'm always passenger princess."

Jake tilts his head, "Yeah... well.. not when we have an actual female with, okay."

Johnnie sighs, mocking Jake as he goes to get in the back. You try not to laugh as you get in and buckle up, looking over at Jake as he gets in.

"So are you guys like.. a thing now.. or what is this?" Johnnie asks from the back and you look over at Jake, "Um.."

Jake smirks and tilts his head, "No, she just has a thing for my hands so I'll have to cut them off and give them to her."

You laugh quietly as Johnnie sits there in silence for a moment, "That's.. disturbingly morbid.."

Jake pretends to act mad, "There will be absolutely no kink shaming in this car.. or you can walk home." He fights back laughter as he looks over at you and Johnnie sighs, "I wasn't ki- I mean, whatever you're into, that's your business."

You shake your head, "Oh my god."

Jake laughs and speaking of his hands, your eyes move to his that's hanging off the center console next to yours.

You don't really pay any attention to their banter as you lift your pinky and gently scratch his. He smirks as he glances down, seeing what you're doing.

He moves his hand over, interlocking his pinky over yours. The subtle touch is what gets you most. It's cute, innocent, but you know as soon as you two finally get alone, it won't be as innocent.

"Okay. This is your stop." Jake parks the car and looks back to Johnnie, "That'll be twenty bucks."

Johnnie stares at him, "twenty bucks for what? A fucking ten minute car ride. I'm filing a complaint."

"Do you want to speak to the manager? Hold on." Jake spins around and turns back, "Manager Webber here, how can I help you?"

"I'm not doing this." Johnnie laughs and slides over to get out, "Please keep him."

You laugh, "We'll see how my free trial goes. I'm sure you can have him on weekends."

Jake laughs and rests his head on the headrest, "He'll just have to listen to me scream about wanting to go to mommy's house." You close your eyes and sigh, "Oh my god."

"As I said, keep him. Please." Johnnie shuts the door and Jake waits for him to go inside before driving off.

He moves his hand, slipping it under yours and gently squeezing, "So have my.." he laughs slightly, "..hands.. always been a turn on for you?"

"Oh we're getting right into it, wow okay." You laugh nervously and bite your lip, "I mean.. kind of. Yeah, I guess."

He smirks and nods, "Interesting."

"But I mean, it's not just your hands either.. you know." You add quickly after and he looks over at you and smiles, "It's the hair isn't it?" He shakes his head, reaching up to brush his hand that's not holding your hand through it.

"Oh yeah. Totally the hair, too." You laugh and rest your head back as you look at him, "I've had a crush on you for a while now."

"That's actually kind of crazy.. and I'll tell you why." Jake smiles and you tilt your head, "I'm dying to know."

He chuckles and raises your hands that are held together, "Now don't freak out or anything.. but I've also.." he glances over at you, "Had a crush on you."

You gasp, pretending to be shocked and he sighs, "Damn it. I said not to act shocked." He laughs and you cover your mouth, "Oh, sorry. Sorry."

He pulls into your driveway and parks the car, "Its alright, I'll let it slide." He unbuckles and quickly points, "But just this time."

You hold your hand up, "Got it. Thank you." You reach over to unbuckle your belt and turn slightly to face him. He brings his other hand up, playing with your fingers as he stares down at them.

You bite your lip, eyes scanning over your hand being caressed in his.

You watch as his hand moves up and you look up at his as he lays it on your cheek. He pulls you into him, connecting his lips to yours.

You lay your hand on his neck, tilting your head as the kiss grown into a slow make out, "Can we g-"

"Yes." He kisses you for a short moment and leans back, nodding, "Yes."

You laugh slightly as you get out and walk up the steps to your door. You reach into your coat pocket, pulling out your keys so you can unlock the door.

You push it open, walking in as Jake follows behind you, "Do you need a drink or anything?" You shrug off your coat, "I haven't gone shopping yet. I didn't expect guests over so there isn't much here right now."

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that in the grocery police so since your cupboards aren't stocked.." he walks over to you, gently pushing you against the wall, "I'm going to have to arrest you.. or something."

He laughs and you shake your head, "You can do whatever you want to me."

His eyebrow twitches and you can tell that that sent excitement through him, "Well.. alright then." He bends down, sliding his hands down to your thighs and lifts you up.

He keeps your back pressed against the wall as he kisses down your neck, "Where's your room again?" You smile, "Upstairs, second door on the right. You should know this by now, Jake."

He leans back, rolling his eyes playfully, "Don't worry.. I'll get it." He smirks and leans in to kiss you, gently setting you down as he slides his hand into yours, "Come on."

You pulls you towards the steps, staring up at him as you follow behind. You walk into your room and pulls you in front of him, "Tell me where you want my hands."

You bite your lip, "I want.." you grab his hand and slowly place it on your neck, "Your hands.." you grab his other one and slip it under your shirt, "Here.."

He licks his lips, tilting his head as he backs you up towards the bed. You sit down and he pulls your shirt up over your head, "Cute bra."

You smirk and reach behind you to unclip it, "Thanks." Your eyes fixate on his hand sliding up your arm to pull the strap down. He drags both straps down, pulling your bra off of your body completely.

"Move up to the wall." He motions for you to move up to the top of the bed. You crawl up, turning around to lay on your back.

He slips his shirt off, walking around to the other side of the bed, "Rest your back against it, I want you to watch."

Your heart skips a beat as you nod, complying to his request. He sits in front of you on his knees, grabbing your skirt and pulling it down, along with your nylon stockings and panties, leaving you naked for him.

"Beyond beautiful." His eyes scan up your body and he moves to sit next to you. He turns so he's on his side, "Watch my hand, baby."

Your lip is tucked snug between your teeth as your eyes watch his hand slide down your body. Your breathing quickens as his fingers grow closer to your clit.

Your mouth drops open as his fingers graze over your pussy, a quiet moan escaping as he dips his fingers in quick before sliding them up to apply pressure to your clit.

He slips his arm behind your head, angling it down to slowly knead your boob, "Is this alright?" You nod quickly, turning your head to kiss him, "yes.. yes."

He smirks within the kiss, using his head to push yours back so you can watch his hand. You look down your body, one leg over his legs and the other bent up and held out of the way by your hand.

Jake's fingers circle your clit, "You're going to feel so good, I know it."

You whimper at his words. Your hips buck at the pleasure radiating from the tips of his fingers.

"You can moan, baby. It's just us." His nose rubs against your cheek as he slips his fingers down, slipping two into you, "God, you're so wet."

You moan and tilt your head back, "Fuck."

"Mm. Eyes on my hand." He leans his head back and makes sure you go back to watching before he starts to slowly push and pull his fingers in and out of you.

He speeds up his thrust, groaning at the sound of your wetness squelching as his fingers go back in, "I bet you taste so good, too."

You smirk, brows furrowing as you moan, "Only one way to find out." He chuckles and nods, "You're right." His other hand thats on your boob, lifts up slightly so he can pinch your nipples between his fingers.

Your back arches and you want to throw your head back but you manage to keep your eyes glued to his fingers going in and out of you, "Fuck, fuck, Jake.."

"You gonna cum?" He whispers and nods, "Please do."

Your fingers dig into the skin of your thigh as you bring your other arm up to wrap around and tangle into his hair, pulling as you squeeze his fingers.

"You're so close aren't you?" Jake nips your ear and you nod, "Yes.. yes..”

He moves his head down and kisses up your neck. You tilt your head over to give him more room to suck a hickey onto your skin and that’s enough.

You let out a loud moan, tilting your head back as you tug on his hair, earning a deeper groan from him, “Fuck.” He pulls his fingers out and brings them up to your lips.

You look over at him as you part them, taking his fingers in and sucking. Jake’s eyes bounce from your lips to your eyes, “That’s so fucking hot.”

You smirk as he pulls his fingers back, leaning in to kiss you roughly. He moves his body over yours and kisses down your neck, over your chest and torso, finally reaching your hips.

He glances up at you before moving down and leaning in. You gasp, moaning loudly as his tongue moves between your folds and slips inside.

He groans against you, his hands squeezing your thighs as he pushes his head closer to you. You lay a hand on his head, arching your back as you tangle your hands in his hair, “S-shit.. Jake.”

You look down at him and watch as he devours you. Turning and tilting his head to get as much of you as he can.

The way he moans lowly against you is so hot, you never really wanted this to end.

Your eyes roll back as your body jerks slightly, “Fuck, baby..” you gasp, “Rig- y-yes!” You dig the heels of your feet into his back, moaning as he brings you through the high of your orgasm.

You stare down at him, panting as you watch him sit up and look at you with a smirk, “ten out of ten, will be doing that again.” He smirks and you laugh slightly as he moves up to put his lips back onto yours.

Your fingers drag down his torso to the band of his pants. He gasps against your lips as you slip your hand in and wrap it around his cock, “Need you.” You breathe out as you stroke him a few times.

A low moan leaves his lips and he nods, leaning up to push his pants down before moving to lay on his back. You instantly move to straddle him, biting your lip as you reach down to hold his cock as you glide down onto it.

Your hands move to press onto his chest, moaning as you sink fully down onto him. His jaw falls slack as his hands grip your hips tight, “You feel fucking perfect.”

Your brows furrow and you moan as you slowly start rocking your hips. Jake’s hands guide you back and forth, squeezing tight as he watches your face scrunch with pleasure.

You slide your hand up to grab one of his hands, guiding it up your body until you reach your neck. He wraps his fingers around your throat, squeezing slowly.

You lean forward, one hand by his head to hold yourself up as you start bouncing, the sound of skin on skin and moans mixing fills the room.

“Just like that, baby.” Jake groans, “Fuck, just like that.”

You moan, moving your hips all the way as you squeeze his cock, “S-shit.” You rock your hips, grinding down on him as you work yourself up to orgasm.

He lets go of your neck, wrapping an arm around your waist as he sits up, “You’re so close, babe.” He leaves open mouth kisses all over your neck as you grind your hips on him, “Yes, yes, yes.”

He slides a hand up your back, tangling his fingers in your hair. Pulling your head back so he can leave a few more purple marks on your neck, “You’re so fucking hot.”

He pulls you into him with his arm that’s around your waist, indicating that he doesn’t want you to stop, “Keep going..”

You wrap an arm around his neck, digging your nails into his skin as you continue to grind on his cock, “Jake.” You whimper out, “I-I-“

He rolls over, laying you on your back and he picks up where you stopped. He thrust his cock into you, his arm holding up his weight as he pins your leg up over his other arm.

His lips connect with yours and you swallow each other’s moans. Your nails drag up his back as you cum, chest pressing against his as you cling to him.

“Fuck, fuck.” He groans and pulls out, stroking his cock with his hand until you feel his cum land on your pelvis.

You lay there, breathing heavy as you watch him fully finish. He looks at you with a smile and he leans down to gently kiss you. He lay next to you and turns his head, “That was fun.”

You smirk and look over at him, “Ten out of ten. Will do again.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “That’s a good one. I wonder who you stole that from.”

You smile and shrug, “Some cute guy said it to me earlier.”

“Oh I see.” He smiles, chuckling as he gets up to go get a towel. He comes back in and walks over to wipe you off, “Does this cute guy get to.. I don’t know.. stay the night with you?”

You sit up and tilt your head, “That depends..”

“On?” He sits down, looking over at you and you lean forward to kiss him, “If he promises me not to sleep right away.” You lean back with a smirk and he sighs with a slight smirk, “I supposed I can make that sacrifice.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Thanks for reading! I truly appreciate all the support!

Likes and reblogs are truly appreciated! 🖤

[hollowdeath]

injured (hjp)

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader

summary: as hermione's new friend, you and harry are constantly bugging each other any time you're together. however, one day, during training for dumbledore's army, you get injured, causing harry to lash out before promptly carrying you to the infirmary.

word count: 2k

cw: mentions of blood, mostly just fluff, maybe slight angst if you squint hard enough

a/n: yet another lil sfw blurb i wrote between requests <3 hope yall don't mind, might do a part 2 if anyone wants it!

"does she always have to be invited to everything?" harry groans, nodding towards you as you continue trying to steal his scarf. you're both following behind ron and hermione through the snow on the way to hagrid's hut for tea. hermione laughs in response along with you. "yes, she does. it's nice having another girl around." she tells harry, giving you a shy smile. you return the same smile, reaching over to successfully steal harry's scarf from him. "yep, you're stuck with me, potter," you tease him, wrapping the scarf around yourself.

harry rolls his eyes, stealing the scarf back from you. "well, can't you ever bother hermione? your actual friend? or ron? why is it always me?" harry complained as he dodged another attempt at you taking his scarf. "they're not as fun to mess with," you whine, crossing your arms. hermione giggles, giving ron a knowing side-eye that he returns.

you narrow your eyes at their exchange. "what?" you ask them. hermione looks over her shoulder at you with the same smug expression before turning away and giggling again. "hermione," you warn her, uncrossing your arms. she just keeps laughing, only making you more suspicious. "nothing, [y/n]," she tells you sarcastically, shaking her head.

"yeah, mind your business, [y/n]," harry interjects. he flinches when you turn to look at him, making you laugh. "yeah, that's what i thought, potter," you say triumphantly, reaching for his scarf once more.

"seriously?" you ask harry as he takes yet another piece of food off your plate. he's holding back a laugh as he quickly eats it, giving you a devious look. "i asked if you were hungry and you said no! now keep your grubby fingers off my plate," you playfully scold him, pulling your plate closer to you. ron and hermione laugh, giving each other that same knowing look.

"oh i'm not hungry, i just know you hate people taking your food." harry says with a smirk, reaching his hand out again before you smack it away. "ow!" harry exclaims, holding his aching knuckles. "really? you steal my food all the time!"

you're the one smirking this time as you say, "yeah, but it's funny when i do it." taking another bite of your food, harry narrows his eyes at you. he waits for his chance and quickly sneaks another piece of food, successfully stealing it away as you try to stop him. "ha!" he laughs with his mouth full, pointing at you. you give him a look, which makes hermione laugh harder.

"you two are ridiculous," she sighs, taking a bite of her own food. "oh, come on, he started it!" you say with a hand pointed at harry. he pretends to bite your finger and you narrow your eyes at him, reaching to grab the glasses off his face. "no, no, no," harry warns you, frantically grabbing for the glasses to take them from your hands as you lean away from him. "ha!" you repeat after him, pointing at him as you continue pulling away from his grasp. harry leans across the table and nearly falls before he successfully snatches the glasses from your fingers. "ha!" he says again with a cocky smile, sitting down and placing them back on his face.

ron rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his drink. "i agree with hermione. ridiculous." he says with that same knowing smile. harry scoffs, giving ron a look. "whatever," he shrugs him off. "she started it," harry repeats after you, nodding in your direction as he tries to hide his smirk. you roll your eyes at him, but you're hiding the same devious smile.

"late again, ms. [y/l/n]?" harry asks you in a teasing voice as you walk down the hall towards the room of requirement. you rolled your eyes at him. "shut it, potter. just be glad i came." you snap back, giving him a smirk as you pass through the doorway.

harry followed you in, making sure no one was watching behind him. he began the meeting thanking everyone for coming back for yet another round of training for dumbledore's army, and wanted to go over defense tactics again. as he started reviewing all the different spells and wand movements from the week prior, he asked everyone to partner up and work on practicing them again.

the session was going really well, and harry was helping people individually to get the motions perfect. he was just working with a first year student when he heard a yell from behind him, followed by a crash and a crowd of gasps. harry spun on his heel to see hermione running from across the room, dropping her wand in the process. this immediately worried harry more.

he made his way to the gathering crowd in the corner when he heard hermione say your name in exasperation. harry's pace picked up and he pushed himself through the crowd of students urgently.

he found hermione kneeling at your side, blocking his view of you. only your converse-covered feet littered with rubble and dust were visible from his angle. harry quickly rushed to your other side, his stomach dropping at the sight of your unconscious body, freezing completely when he notices blood coming from under your shirt. hermione was checking your breathing and heartbeat and trying to wake you up. harry's shock flipped into anger within a second, turning to the crowd that had gathered around you.

"who did it?" he asked, his tone rough and impatient. everyone stayed quiet hearing how upset harry was. they had never seen him be anything other than shy, kind, and timid.

"well? who was her partner? huh? who the fuck hit her?" harry yells the last part, causing a few students flinch.

"harry. it was an accident." hermione snaps towards him, causing him to look back at her. he's breathing heavily, staring into hermione's narrowed eyes as she holds your hand in hers.

harry's anger subsided, if only for a moment, seeing your shirt start to stain with blood. his anger was replaced with concern, dropping to one knee and picking you up in his arms. "harry," hermione tries to stop him, but harry interrupts her. "i'm taking her to the infirmary now. i'll make up something on the way. send everyone home." he tells hermione in a rushed voice as he carefully adjusts you in his arms, your neck limp as your head falls into harry's chest.

he rushes out of the room, ron holding the doors open for him, giving him a tight smile with worried eyes. "she'll be alright, mate," ron tries to reassure him, but harry's already practically jogging to the hospital wing.

a few hours later the sun has long since set, and you open your eyes to a dark room lined with windows showing the stars outside. you try to sit up in the bed you're lying in and you're immediately hit with an intense wave of pain, making you groan and wince. you notice movement to your right and turn to see harry's sleeping body on a chair pulled up beside your cot. you hadn't even seen him at first, so you were a bit surprised, letting out a gasp at his sudden presence.

this wakes him up, his eyes snapping open towards you and standing from his uncomfortable sleeping position to come to your side. "[y/n]," he says softly, his voice still groggy, hands resting on your shoulders to lay you back down again. you groan again as you lie back, your face twisted in pain. harry winces just the same, moving the pillow under you to better support your neck.

"i know, it's okay, you're okay," he coos. you look at him weirdly, never experiencing this caring side of him so intimately. "what happened?" you ask, glancing at the IV machine attached to your arm. "am i in the infirmary?"

harry sighs, his eyes searching you carefully for any discomfort. "yes, you are. your bloody first year partner hit you with his stupefy and nearly killed you." harry informed you, his voice gradually getting angrier before stopping himself to take a deep breath. "sorry. i didn't mean that. all you got was a concussion, and a nasty scar on your stomach. but, he could've hurt you worse," harry tells you, the anger returning any time he mentions your partner. "i swear to you, [y/n], he's never coming to another practice again. and i don't care if he tells the whole school, that kid is finished."

you can't help but chuckle at how riled up harry is, earning a confused look from him. you shake your head weakly. "it was probably just an accident, potter. no need to pitch a fit." you tell him with that same smirk as always. harry's body relaxes, breathing a sigh of relief at your nonchalant reaction and usual sarcasm making its return. though he wants to roll his eyes at how unaffected you are learning about your injuries, he's too concerned to even pretend to joke.

"wait, how did i get here? i don't even remember walking in," you say in confusion, trying to recall the afternoon. harry awkwardly shifts his weight beside you. "yeah, um, well, i had to carry you." he tells you. you shoot him a look full of confusion, shock, and humor. "you? you carried me across the school?" you ask with an incredulous chuckle. "you were unconscious! and bleeding! i had to get you here quickly." harry defends himself, throwing his arms up.

you laugh and shake your head again, rubbing your face. "since when have you started caring about my well being, potter? i thought i was just a pest to you," you inquire, cocking an eyebrow at harry. he nervously blinks and looks away from you, clearing his throat. "you were under my supervision, didn't want you to sue me or anything." harry says with a smirk, still awkwardly shifting his weight back and forth with his hands in his pockets.

"right," you scoff at him jokingly.

harry sighs, pulling his seat closer to your bed so he can sit down again. "look," he says, his eyes still not quite meeting yours. "i know we joke around a lot, and, y'know, you may even actually annoy me a bit sometimes…" he trails off, chuckling to himself. you lightly slap his leg closest to you, holding back your own laugh.

"but, seeing you like that on the ground, seeing the blood, i was terrified. i didn't know if you were okay and that killed me. i don't know what i would've done if…" he trails off again, his voice caught in his throat.

you give harry a sympathetic smile, studying his tired face. he was looking towards the ground, his hair disheveled, glasses hanging low on the bridge of his nose. he looked upset as his eyebrows furrowed together in thought.

"did you stay here all day?" you asked him softly. harry looks up at you with surprise, his eyes studying yours. "yeah," he says simply. you look to your left towards a grandfather clock and see it's nearly 3 in the morning.

you give him another curious look. "harry," you start to say, but you're at a loss for words. he chuckles again, his eyes still studying yours intently. "i wasn't leaving. the nurses nearly fought me multiple times." he tells you bluntly. you laugh, wincing at the pain it causes you, but can't hold back. "harry, you didn't have to do that."

harry gives you a half hearted smile. "i know," he shrugs.

you return the smile. "well, thank you, then. for waiting and for bringing me here." you thank harry genuinely, causing him to blush and wave you off. you reach out to poke his sides in attempt to tickle him. "and i guess you really do care, hm?" you tease him.

harry squirms away and laughs, his blush intensifying. "yeah, yeah, whatever."

[katszumi]

“you know, your eyes kinda resemble a ruby.” you slurred your words. your chin rested in the palm of your hand, elbow digging in the table below you.

bakugou snorted, his eyes never wavering from yours. “what made you think of that shit?”

you lifted your shoulders, quickly dropping them.

“do i need a reason?”

“to be thinking about nonsense? yes.” he answered his own question. his response caused an eye-roll out of you.

you grabbed the small glass in front of you, finishing the shot you set down earlier to save for later.

“that’s your fifth shot of the night.” bakugou intercepted the silence. he sat upright in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

you gulped the remains of the liquor, swiping your tongue across the bottom of your lip.

“and you’re on your what? like second?” you remarked.

bakugou wasn’t a drinker. everyone knew that. he preferred to be sober, always offering to be the designated driver whenever the group wanted to have a night of fun.

but tonight was his pro-hero debut party. all of his friends and old schoolmates were there, so he figured if he were to drink, tonight was the perfect time.

also, who was he to decline having a drink with a pretty girl?

his eyes glanced at your now wet lips which unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed from you. “two is plenty.”

you leaned forward, reaching your hand towards bakugou’s shirt. your fingers grazed the top button of his shirt. slowly, you unfastened it. “there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun, katsuki.”

due to the sudden proximity, he could smell the alcohol coming from your breath, but he couldn’t bring himself to resist your actions.

you continued to the second button. “take this time to relax.” you raised your hands once more, your fingers now grazing his neck to uncuff the collar of his shirt.

now, you leaned away from him, returning to your previous position. “now you look like a man that’s ready for the night.”

bakugou dropped his shoulders and leaned back in his chair, turning his head sideways. he couldn’t refuse the blush that was coming onto his face nor could he hide it. he knew you were staring right into his soul. he was also aware that you loved to tease him like that.

“unhinged. i swear you are.” was the only thing bakugou could muster.

ever since he’s known you from u.a, you were always that daring girl who was so unpredictable. there was never a dull moment with you.

but that was also what made you so dangerous for him.

a laugh parted your lips. “been called worse.”

“bullshit.” he called it, looking into your eye once again. “like what?”

“irresponsible,” you started count on your fingers.

“i can see it.” bakugou shared his input.

“arrogant,”

he rolled his eyes, “heard my fair share of that one too.”

“impulsive,”

“accurate.”

“provocative.”

bakugou moved his head in a notion like he was deciding between two things. “nah.”

you furrowed your brow, squinting your eyes in confusion. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“provocative sounds like a slutty word.” he simply responded. “i think you know you’re attractive, and you know how to use it to your advantage. not a bad thing at all.”

you paused for a moment, your lips parting from shock. a small grin began to form on your face. “did bakugou katsuki just call me attractive?”

the male scoffed, “don’t act like this is news to you. ‘m sure you heard it plenty times before.” he brushed it off.

“just didn’t think you of all people would willingly say that.”

bakugou chuckled to himself. he raised his finger in the air, indicating for the server assigned to your table to bring him another drink.

“unlike you, not everyone needs five shots of liquor in their system to confess something.” undoubtedly, it was shot taken at her, one that you couldn’t refuse the growing smile on your face.

“oh? since when did you decide to get so bold?”

“someone’s actions tend to rub off on me.”

“they must be foolish.”

once again, bakugou’s ruby eyes lowered to your lips. undeniable. how could his heart ever stand a chance when you treat him this way? did you not understand he loved a challenge?

“yeah, an irresistible fool.”

“please, i’m anything but a fool.”

“don’t flatter yourself; who said i was talking about you?” he opted to lie.

you leaned forward slightly, “with the amount of times you keep staring at my lips, it’s not hard to notice it’s taking everything in you to resist me.” your voice lowered in volume, for his ears to catch only. “therefore, irresistible.”

bakugou took his time to respond, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. “this must be that arrogant side of yours coming out.”

“one, not necessarily arrogance if it’s true. two, i’m attractive and i know how to use it to my advantage.” you recited his own words.

“this something you do with all your flings?”

you gave him a playful confused look. “do what?” intentionally, your voice had an innocent tone to it.

“drink with them. tease ‘em. nearly undress them. flirt with them in front of an audience?” bakugou could feel his patience slipping. like a sand hourglass, only a few grains left at the top waiting to fall to the bottom.

it had to have been from the shots that made him so precariously bold. but he couldn’t walk away. not when he has you in the palm of his hands— maybe even the other way around.

you propped your elbow on the table once more, cupping your own cheek. you gazed at bakugou through your lashes.

“if i had other flings, you think i’d be here with you all night?”

“don’t know. good question actually.” purposely, he played stupid.

you paused. “there are no others,” you knew that was the answer he was searching for. luckily for him, you didn’t mind giving it to him. “just you.”

bakugou nodded slowly, basking in the information. he could feel his heart flutter from the confession, a huge wave of relief washing over him.

“good. was startin’ to think you were actually considering the guy over at the bar.” of course, bakugou plays it off as a joke. even with the small liquor in his system, it was still difficult for him to admit his true feelings.

but you were fine with it. because even with the guard he pretends to have up, you can feel even with the slightest touch how much he cares for you. bakugou may be loud, cheeky, maybe a bit conceited, but he wasn’t a good liar. you always saw through his facade no matter what lies he decided to spew.

you scoff. “oh, shut up.” you fight a smile. “the guy at the bar doesn’t have the ruby eyes i like so much.”

“here you go with this stupid shit.”

-

i ’d do anything to flirt with katsuki late at night, both of us tipsy. god please im beggin

[girlokwhatever]

PLEASE 🙏 paige x reader where they are in a situationship and reader is jealous

༉‧₊˚.*ೃ༄༊*·˚･ﾟﾟ･｡ that should be me,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

yeah, you definitely hated her. you didn’t know her, but you fucking hated her.

you sat across the table from paige, secretly stealing glances of her and some other girl you had never met before in your life. you can’t even recall anyone mentioning her before tonight, but apparently she was close enough friends with aubrey to be invited to her birthday dinner.

you didn’t like her at all. her jokes always missed and killed the vibe, she said random out-of-pocket things every five seconds, and she had this insanely high-pitched laugh. or maybe you didn’t like her because of the way she was touching paige’s arm.

either way, she was running your last nerve thin.

you had arrived to the restaurant with paige, your held hands being separated once you walked inside. you and paige had something going on and most of your friends knew, poking fun and teasing you every now and then. you both wanted to take it slow since both of your schedules were busy, but you definitely wouldn’t say either of you were single.

she was your situation.

you wanted to sit next to her at the table but the plans had quickly changed when this girl insisted on sitting there. you had been halfway into the seat when her hand landed firmly on your shoulder, shaking to get your attention.

that was the moment that started it you think. that and the flirtatious touches. you thought it was so obvious what she was trying to do, but apparently paige didn’t pick up any of the cues.

it was embarrassing for you and her. here you were with all your friends on aubrey’s birthday night, watching as another girl practically groped paige six feet into her seat. the worst part was paige never did or said anything along the lines of ‘stop.’

you have the thought that it should definitely be you sitting next to paige right now. it could’ve been you and it should’ve been you. she may not be your girlfriend, but she is your something. you wish you could hold her hand under the table instead of having to watch the insufferable sight of another girl touching her.

“is this your natural hair? it’s really pretty.”

your eye twitched watching the scene unfold, eyes tracking the girl’s finger as it twirled around a strand of paige’s hair.

“nah, not the color. the waves are all mine though,”

paige smiles, flicking her hair over her shoulder. the girl laughs again, the high-pitched squeal ringing in your ear. the crazy thing is, nothing paige said was even funny, the reason for the girl’s laughter had flown straight over your head. if she was close enough, you think you might reach across the table and drag her to the floor.

her peppy laugh. her wandering and lingering gaze. the unnecessary touches. the-

“can i give you my number? i’d really like to hangout sometime y’know?”

you couldn’t even bear to stay for paige’s answer, excusing yourself from the table. your chair squeaked loudly against the floor, grabbing the attention of anyone who hadn’t already noticed you.

the girl turns to paige, wide-eyed, “is she okay?”

your anger boils over at her remark, wishing for both of your sakes she’d just kept quiet. it was infuriating watching her turn to paige and talk about you, right in front of your own face.

“are you serious-”

“i think she just has to use the bathroom,” paige gives you a look, one that you can only decipher as ‘no.’ “and the bathrooms are that way.”

she points you in a direction, one that you allow yourself to blindly follow. you just needed to get away from that table, too irked by that girl to think straight. you kept telling yourself that she couldn’t ruin the night, aubrey’s big night for that matter.

you’re leaning against the bathroom sink when a knock sounds on the door. it makes you jump out of your thoughts, assuming it’s just some random person needing to take a piss.

“i’ll be out in a second!”

“hey, it’s me.” you’d recognize her voice in a crowd of hundreds, something so distinct about it. you can’t deny it makes your heart flutter knowing she chased after in a sense, showing that she does in fact care.

you unlock the door for her, letting her slip through the frame before sealing it off again. she locks it for you, never even taking her eyes off of you.

“what was that?!”

she’s whisper-shouting, getting closer to you. it shocks you, not expecting that reaction from her. you wished maybe she’d acknowledge what was actually happening at that table for the last half-hour, but of course she can’t.

“seriously? are you serious?”

“yeah i’m serious. you looked like you wanted to rip her head off the whole time.”

you roll your eyes, “oh spare me please. she’s insufferable.”

you don’t even care how much attitude you’re using to rebuttal her, more concerned with the fact that she’s defending the girl. did she know what she was doing? was it all on purpose?

“she’s nice,”

“yeah i’m sure she is.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i’m sure it is nice when she touches you like that.”

she blinks. once, twice, three times before speaking. she gets a smug grin on her face like it’s funny or something, watching the way your forehead creases from being downturned so long. she feels bad really, but it’s still amusing to see you like this.

“oh, that’s what this is about.”

“what- i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“you’re jealous.”

her hands find your waist, tugging you into her chest. after rolling your eyes into tomorrow you decide it’s not worth it to fight about it and she’s right anyway. you succumb to her affection, matching it equally when you wrap your arms around her stomach.

“can’t believe you’re jealous. it’s kinda hot.”

“whatever. tell her to stop eye-fucking you in the middle of the restaurant. it’s nasty.”

paige admires your honestly, realizing how strongly you both feel even though it’s nothing more than a situationship. she wants to ask you out but figures a restaurant family bathroom probably isn’t the best place.

“maybe i should be the one jealous. you’ve been so focused on her talking to me you didn’t realize i’ve been looking at you the whole time.”

you’re silent, head resting against her chest to hide embarrassment. the affect she has on you is insane and you both know that, a simple fact paige takes advantage of frequently. she feels your arms tighten around her and in response shifts your hips closer to her own. she never feels like you’re close enough.

she kisses the top of your head as you shift together in unison. she wishes she was brave enough to ask you out. it’s not like you’re going to say no.

as her own version of reassurance, paige pulls you into a kiss and waits until she feels you kissing back. it’s slow and sensual, both of you taking time to relish in the moment, as confusing as it may be. when you pull away, she finds solace in your body, resting her forehead against yours.

“yeah whatever. i’m going back to eat my dinner. but next time she touches you i’m flipping my shit if you don’t say something.”

“what am i supposed to say then, hm?”

“that you have a girlfriend.”

༉‧₊˚.*ೃ༄༊*·˚･ﾟﾟ･｡

here’s this short lil fic because i felt bad for depriving yall 😔

but i love you guys and hope you enjoy 🤭🤭🤭

I HAVE NOT YET SPELL CHECKED!!!

also i’m so sorry for slacking on the requests you guys (this is an older one) i’m gonna try to work on some tomorrow!! (emily content 🤭)

[biteyoubiteme]

blind date

Jeongin x fem!reader

synopsis: your friend invites you on a double date only your date doesnt talk to you all night.

warnings: 🔞!!! slight angst, mentions of drinking, protected sex, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 2.8k

an: this was a request! hope I did it justice but I don't think im too good at writing angst and this isn't too fluffy lol sorry anon :p feedback is appreciated! not proofread sorry [m.list]

“he's so cute I promise you won't regret it,” your friend is trying so hard to put on a convincing argument, begging you to go out with her tonight on her date, “I'll pull up his instagram! Please I'm so nervous I can’t go alone,” she pulls out her phone typing away before passing it to you. 

“oh his is cute,” you whisper not wanting to admit you were leaning toward going. but as you scroll through his page you knew you wouldn't pass up a date with him even if it was awkward to be going with your friend and you didn’t know him at all. but one photo showing his sweet smile and little dimple was enough for you to agree because only the world's strongest and heartless individuals could withstand the power of dimples on anyone. 

A few hours later you’re seated at a table, tucked into the back of the bar, picking at your nails. As happy as your friend is with her date, giggling and sharing light touches, you’re sitting in silence with Jeongin. 

the two of you had shared a soft hello, ordered at the bar together, and then fell off talking without even really starting. The booth was shaped in a way that you and Jeongin were just watching your friends fall in love.  

“So are you from here?” you try, your straw in between your fingers and stirring your drink. 

“Not really,” he says, watching his hand on the table, thumb rubbing over a drop of water that slid from the side of his glass. 

you wait for him to elaborate but get nothing in return, you contemplate kicking your friend under the table to ask to cut this all short. She is not nervous anymore and you know the two of them will be going on another date without question. It's when you sip from your empty glass that Chan turns away from your friend and notices the two of you sitting in silence. 

“Do you want a refill?” he asks, hiking his thumb over his shoulder, he looks back to your friend with a dimple-graced smile, “We’ll go get another round yeah?” 

“Okay,” she nods as Chan and Jeongin slip out of the booth and head to the bar. 

“you’re the worst he won't even fucking talk to me!” 

“I'm sorry last time when I met him he seemed so sweet and just your type, I don’t know what happened,” 

“he's looking everywhere but my face, hell I'm sure he hasn't even glanced at my hand,” 

“I'm sorry but just a little longer please, Chan invited us back to his apartment to hang and I don’t want to go alone,” 

“I'm not third-wheeling your hook-up,” 

“No his roommates will be there and some of his other friends and any of their girlfriends, please,” she folds her hands in front of her pouting her lips. “I need you,” 

“you do not, he's all over you, I need you,” she bats her lashes and you know you’ll give in. Even a bad date wouldn't keep you from helping your friend, “you owe me,” 

It was only an hour later when you were in the back of an uber squished between jeongin and your best friend that you were truly regretting saying yes to a blind date in the first place. Jeongin was trying to keep every part of him from touching you, thighs pulled in close to the door, arm slung across his stomach. it was making you angry. both of you had been invited to your friend's date and both of you should have turned it down. if he didn’t want to be here with you he could pretend or try to hold a conversation at the very least. instant silence was worse than faking it, or at least for your ego.

even sitting in their living room with all their friends joking and laughing you couldn't put it aside. jeongin sitting across from you, nodding along with whatever was said to him, avoiding your gaze. 

everyone is playing cards or joking around and you’re trying to join in on the conversation, sipping from a drink your friend brought over to you when you notice jeongin excuse himself from the group. without much thought, you throw the rest of your drink back for encouragement before leaning past your friend to ask Chan where the bathroom is. He points you down the hall Jeongin went and you’re quick to follow. 

The music fades as you move down the hall still leaving room for you to hear the sink faucet on as you lean against the wall opposite the bathroom. crossing your arms to listen to the sound of the water turning off and the lock clicking. 

jeongin is surprised to see you waiting for him, little angry scowl making him avert his eyes from yours. He lowers his head trying to move past you but you shoot your arm out to block him. 

“Is there something wrong with me?” the words spill out before you can stop yourself. jeongin jolts back at the question, finally meeting your gaze. 

“What?”

“Are you hung up on someone else or am I just not pretty enough? fuckable enough?” 

jeongin is stammering trying to blink away his confusion. “I never- I don’t-“ 

“I mean why else would you ignore me all night? and yeah going out with someone you don’t know can be awkward but damn I got dressed up so cute only to be ignored?” 

you place your hands on your hips and jeongin follows the line of your body with his eyes. “I’ve never really um- I’ve just been-“ 

you feel kinda bad as you watch him try to make a sentence, his cheeks turning pink as he fails, “I was worried about this exactly,” he gets out waving around at himself. “and I mean I’ve talked to girls I’ve had a girlfriend before it’s just- it’s been a while and chan was being so nice inviting me along to try and help me but I just-“ he meets your eyes again, “you’re pretty, one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen, gorgeous really and I was already so nervous and then I saw you and if I hadn’t been invited I would have never stood a chance and I didn’t want to embarrass myself,” he huffed a laugh, “but I already did that now,” he’s rushing with his words trying to get everything out so that he says his peace. 

he wants to put this to bed and wallow in his embarrassment in private now. he didn’t want to get his hopes up to see you leave here and never think about him again. he could imagine you giggling with your friend on the car ride home and he didn’t want that so he just didn’t talk. Now he’s opening the door for all of his fears and he won’t even shut up. “and there’s nothing wrong with you I swear. if I could make love to you I would I just didn’t want to be embarrassing,” 

and although you feel a little bit like an ass seeing him so shy it doesn’t stop your giggle at his last statement. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to make love to me, I asked if I was fuckable, there’s kinda a difference,” if jeongins blush could spread any farther it would. “to make love you kinda have to talk to someone; get to know them,” 

“Sorry,” he breathes and it’s then he’s realizing just how close the two of you are standing to each other. “I-I do find you…” jeongins eyes flicker down to your lips watching the way you tuck them between your teeth. 

“fuckable? you can say it but only if you mean it,” 

you watch his throat bob as he swallows, watch as his eyes dip down over your body before he looks back to you, “I do find you fuckable,” the words at the end of a whisper. both of you watching each other waiting for the other to move, to do something. but you realize he probably wouldn’t make the first move, not after everything already. 

lifting a hand you place it over his stomach sliding your hand up his chest as his breathing increases; he doesn’t stop you. jeongin is leaning closer, dipping his head down until his lips are just about to meet yours. “prove it,” you whisper and it’s what sends him over the edge pressing his mouth to yours. 

he leaves the softest kiss before pulling away looking at you for the smallest second before his hand slides behind your neck pulling you back to his lips. 

He kisses you like this is the only time he will have his mouth on you like he wants to consume you. 

your fingers tangle in his shirt and in the hair at the back of his neck not knowing what's come over you. the two of you barely break away for air long enough to think past the feeling of each other. stumbling he presses you into the wall, your back flush against the surface as he wedges himself closer to you, knee between your legs and his hand heavy on your waist you don’t care if only a few minutes ago he was ignoring you like you had the plague, not when he's kissing you like this. 

when he starts to kiss down your neck is when you decide you don’t care how far it goes tonight as long as he keeps touching you. “Take me to your room,” you're whispering into his ear, and he's nodding against you not even stepping away from you as he guides you backward towards his door. you have little time to take in the space when he shuts the door. his space tidy and inviting the only light coming from his desk lamp. His bed is half made with the comforter showing someone had rolled out this morning. in a moment jeongin pulls you with him to the edge of the bed, “we don’t have to do anything,” he mutters as you climb into his lap, his hands attached to your hips. 

you brush his hair back from his face, “Do you wanna stop?” and you find it cute that even just from kissing he's hard pressed against your inner thigh trying to stop himself from guiding your hips against him for friction. 

“no don’t stop,” hands sliding down the curve of your ass pulling you down harder on his erection. “I'm sorry I was so awkward and ignored you,” he kisses down your throat as you grind on him, ”I want to get to know you I-,” he cuts himself off with a moan when you slip your hand between you two to palm him over his jeans. 

“you can ask me out for real after we both get off okay?” 

“you'll say yes?” his breathy question sounds like a plea as you fumble with the button of his jeans. “I didn’t think you would like me,” 

“Well, you would have never known if I did or not unless you looked at me first,” your hand slips into the waistband of his underwear and he buries his head into your neck as he moans against your skin. The warmth of his precum helps slide your hand over his veiny shaft, thumb circling his tip as his hands dig into the fabric of your skirt. “Look at me,” your free hand fisting his hair to tug his head back. “if you make me cum it's a guaranteed yes,” 

His smile is suddenly sinful, an irrefutable dimple on display as he wraps his arm around your waist flipping the two of you over so that you’re on your back against the comforter. He pushes up your skirt, eyes drawn to the outline of your cunt in your lace panties. you sit up on your elbows as he presses his thumb to your clit, your head rolling back at the feeling of his rubbing circles, your knees spreading wider. He hooks his fingers into your panties pulling them to the side, free hand reaching out to gather your wetness. 

jeongin doesn't want to waste any time, reaching over and past you to pull out a condom from the nightstand next to you. you hadn't seen having sex in the cards tonight but watching him slide on the condom all the slick he got from you used to help roll it down was enough to make you ache for him. his pants aren't even fully down as he climbs into bed pressing himself into the cradle of your hips. you reach down to help guide him to your entrance, notching the head of his cock right where you wanted him. 

your head rolls back as jeongin pushes in, the stretch making both of you moan. He pauses only halfway before pulling back out, rubbing along your folds and against your clit before pushing all the way in. Your arms wrap around his neck as he kisses down your jaw. He's thrusting so slowly that you arch your hips trying to meet him halfway. “faster I don’t want it slow,” 

he nods, pulling away enough so that he can hook your legs into the crook of his elbows, folding you in half your skirt completely bunched up at your waist as you tug your panties more to the side. laying himself on top of you he slides in deeper than you thought possible feeling him pressed against your cervix. He gives you one last soft kiss before he starts pounding into you without remorse. his eyes trained on your every facial expression, your gummy walls squeezing around him as he bit back curses at the feeling. you know that everyone is just down the hall but it's hard to keep quiet when he's angling his hips just right to hit your gspot, your hand sneaking down to rub at your clit. “Look at how pretty you are taking my cock, now that I have my eyes on you I can’t look away,” you try to bite back your whine, hips sinking as he slams into you. “Now who's not talking?” 

you can feel your orgasm building in your stomach, your toes curling as you roll your head back. “no no look at me when you cum I wanna know I got my second date the moment it happens,”  and the feeling hits you like a truck, jeongins hand coming up to cover your mouth to keep your noises down but his arm moving sends your leg higher and you feel him press further into you. you’re trembling as he lets you ride out your high his slow strokes a mixture of his soon climax and the absolute pleasure of feeling you squeeze around him. The warmth of him filling the condom has you pressing your hand to his mouth to silence him, his arms buckling as he tries to keep himself upright.

when the both of you catch your breath you realize neither of you has removed your hands from the other's mouth, both of your giggles muffled from the realization. both of you move your hands and Jeongin kisses your nose before pulling out of you, your hiss at the sensation has him rubbing his thumb through your folds the slight overstimulation making your knees jerk. “I'm sorry next time i'll try to go a bit slower, maybe i'll have talked enough to have moved past fuckable,” he pulls your panties back into place before you sit up. 

“we will need at least five dates before you get to lovemaking status,” you reach over to pull him back to your lips, “for the meantime fast and hard is perfect,” you can feel his smile as you kiss. 

When both of you pull apart you stand fixing your skirt as he tosses the condom in the trash. “I need to go clean up in the bathroom,” you say, brushing your hair back with your fingers. 

jeongin nods, finding his phone to hand over to you, “first your number,” you’re quick to input it before making your way out into the hallway. both of you smiling like idiots as he closes the door to his room, both of you nearly jumping out of your skin when your friend clears her throat. 

“I was just coming to check to see if you were ready to go,” her grin tells you she knows exactly what happened. 

“I'm just going to the restroom then we can go,” she's standing right in front of the bathroom door as you make your way over. 

“Who's third wheeling who's hook up now?” she whispers as you pass her. 

 your blush is all the way down your neck, you look back over your shoulder, “Make sure to call me okay?” and Jeongins looks at you like you've already got him wrapped around your finger.

[redwinterroses]

It's not like it's hard to get Tango taking about Decked Out, but buy him a couple of potions in the museum speakeasy and he gets downright confessional.

Grian leans across the stat poker table, his wings rustling eagerly. "Truth or dare, Tango," he says. "Is Decked Out... alive?"

“Aren’t I supposed to pick truth or dare before you ask the question?” Tango tosses back another potion and gives the group a half-smirk.

“We all know you’re going to pick truth because you’re too particled to get up.” Etho’s face is obscured, but they can hear the laugh in his voice and see his fox ears twitch with amusement. “So spill.”

Tango shrugs. "Well," he says, "It's not exactly not NOT alive, if you know what I mean."

Grian glances at Doc on his right and Etho on his left. They shrug at him.

"Yeah, no," he says, looking back at Tango. "I don't think we know what that means."

"Is it like that Grumbot robot that Mumbo and Grian built?" Doc asks, scratching thoughtfully at his chin, his blunt black claws scritching loudly against the stubble of his beard. Grian tries to catch a peek at his stat tokens and gives a sheepish grin when Doc notices and quickly angles them away.

"Hey, now," Doc starts to say, but Tango interrupts.

"Nah, no -- I mean, Grumbot was pretty... Simple. No offense."

"None taken." Grian pulls a token from his stack. "Number of villagers traded with," he offers. "And I'll up the ante to three diamond blocks, gentlemen."

Tango lays down his own token, and taps a finger on it in an aimless rhythm. “The dungeon is… aware,” he says. “Not alive, I guess, but it knows things. It recognizes people.”

“I’ve noticed,” Etho says dryly. “That place hates me.”

They all laugh, but Tango shakes his head. “Does it hate you?” he asks and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Or does it want to impress you?”

“Oh, I’m impressed enough.” Etho drops his stat token on the table with a soft click. “So it can stop glitching and trying to kill me now.”

“Aww, you’re just playing hard to get.”

Doc lays his tokens down on the table and stands. “I will sit out this round, I think,” he says. “I have done almost nothing with villagers this season. Will anyone have more to drink?”

“I’m not playing hard to get!” Etho protested, ears lying flat. “If anything, I’m playing easy to get – I just walk right in there!”

“You heard it first here, folks,” Tango says. “Etho’s easy.”

He ducks, but not in time to dodge the rolled-up napkin Etho chucks at his face. It lands in his hair and goes up in a miniature whump of flame.

Grian snickers, waving away smoke.

“So if the dungeon’s not alive, but it’s not quite not alive,” he says. “How does one maybe go about… making friends with it?”

“That,” Doc says, thunking a fresh bottle of Cub’s custom-mixed potion onto the table. “Is cheating, you pesky bird. No flirting with the possibly-not-not-alive dungeon.”

“You’re telling me you’re above flirting for a few extra keys and crowns, Doc?” Tango asks with teasing skepticism.

Doc sniffs, flipping the cork from his bottle with his thumb. “I don’t need flirting,” he says dismissively. “I have skills. Game strategies, man.”

“He’s already planning how to get the dungeon’s attention.” Etho flips his token over, exposing the total. “Aren’t’cha, Doc.”

Doc tips back his drink and shrugged. “Eh… that is for me to know, and you to worry about.” He winks.

“Tango, what’s your total there?” Grian fiddles with his token.

“Well, I know it’s higher than old three-digit Minecraft master over here.” Tango holds up his token and pinches it between his fingers. “Under three hundred, Etho? What’ve you been doing all season?”

“Not hiding out in a hole for thirteen months,” Etho grumbles good-naturedly, pushing his diamonds into the center of the table.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I have been doing and look at that stat.” Tango displays the count. “Seven k, baby – read ‘em and weep.”

Grian makes an exaggerated sad face that immediately morphs into a triumphant grin. “Rookie numbers, fellas,” he crows. “Try over twelve thousand.”

Tango groans and rolls his diamonds toward Grian with a grimace. “Yeah,” he says. “Definitely not telling you how to flimflam my dungeon, you shyster.”

“Tango, I’m hurt.” Grian, entirely unbothered and very un-hurt looking, scoops the pile of diamonds into his pouch. “My stats are all ethically earned.”

“And that’s how your dungeon runs will be too.” Tango stashes his tokens and stands. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Mostly.”

“Back to your cave, Tango?” Etho doesn’t stand, but his bushy white tail wags a little in barely-contained excitement. “So, Decked Out will be open again… soon?”

“You bet your foxy good looks,” Tango says. “Or… maybe don’t. Not with those stats.”

This time he does duck the thrown napkin.

He exits through the museum, the laughter of his friends fading behind him as he steps out into the cool afternoon air. For a moment, he stretches, shaking out his elytra and clearing his head a bit of the potion particles.

Is Decked Out alive?

Tango grins, sharp teeth glinting. Of course the dungeon’s alive, who’s he kidding? And she’s hungry, too, he can feel it even from here. His friends should just be grateful he’s only ever built friendly monsters that want to devour them.

“On my way,” he mutters to himself. Or the dungeon. “And Etho’ll be coming over soon too.”

He feels the dungeon’s excitement.

“Oh…you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Tango launches himself in the air and spirals over the shopping district, angling toward Decked Out and laughing so loudly the sound bounces off the buildings below.

His dungeon totally has a crush on Etho.

[amongemeraldclouds]

starry eyed

Tom Riddle never meant to feel affection. That warm, sickly feeling felt like indigestion and heartburn. An inconvenience. But Salazar, you had never been on a date. It was an injustice he needed to make right.

Tom Riddle x f!Reader | Based on this request | Fluff

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party | 1.9k words

It was just supposed to be another project. Tom Riddle expected you to just be another schoolmate who would let him do most of the work so he could have things exactly as he wanted. He never minded the work; enjoyed it, even. But he did mind having another student’s grimy fingers all over his carefully planned and skillfully executed projects. Just the thought of it made him want to cast crucio on whoever owned those grimy fingers.

Yet you managed to squeeze your way through his neatly arranged schedule. A row of clean lines and routines that made room for your squiggles and smiles. Literally. You had penciled yourself in his timetable “library with y/n for Astronomy project :)”. At least you had capitalized the A in Astronomy as all subjects should be.

That was how he first found himself walking towards you at the library. People respected him, was even intimidated by him. But you smiled up at him like you had been friends forever and he nearly doubted for a second if he was supposed to be there. He figured you were either naive, a lamb prancing into the lion’s den, or simply unbothered.

“Why did you invite me here?” He asked, placing his books across you in the library.

“Hi Tom,” you beamed, ignoring his question. “I’m doing great. Thanks. For a smart person, that sure is a silly question.”

He clenched his jaw and so you soldiered on. “We were paired together for the project so I thought we’d meet tonight to discuss. You may not be used to it Mr. Perfect, but I always help out with all my projects so like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“Fine,” he breathed out quickly. “Just try to keep up,” he said curtly as he opened his books to discuss.

“Maybe you’re the one who has to keep up with me,” you said, unfazed.

But he ignored you and launched straight into the project details and his plans. Your eyes widened and you grabbed your notebook and pen. Tom’s mouth twitched and you imagined it was his version of a smile. He really was going to make it difficult for you, but you were up for the challenge.

You may have also had a crush on him, but that definitely had nothing to do with the way your heart was pounding in your chest. School could also be intense and exciting. Ha.

By the third written sentence, you managed to catch up and gather all the details he had in mind for the project. You asked questions about the plan and Tom was surprised you mentioned a minor detail he had not previously considered. It irritated him, but you had also managed to earn his respect.

The discussion had been a lot more engaging than he thought. Though it probably didn’t say much considering his expectations had been so low, it had melted with the lava down the centre of the Earth.

You tapped on the table lightly. “Now that we’ve accomplished a lot, it’s time for snacks!”

Tom blinked, not sure if he heard you right. “What are we to do with snacks?”

You blinked back. “To eat. So we can take a break from all the studying?”

“I don’t do breaks. My focus levels are perfectly fine,” he stated.

“This is why you’re so grumpy all the time! You don’t eat snacks or take breaks,” you slapped a hand to your forehead.

“Ah yes you have cracked the mystery. You now know everything about me,” he replied sarcastically and you snorted. If you hadn’t felt so tired, you may have spent some energy being embarrassed for your un-lady like behaviour in front of your crush. But you had your priorities straight.

“Try these biscuits I baked and I promise you will know all about joy and the wonders of the universe,” you offered.

“So it’s spiked?”

You looked horrified. “I’ll have you know my baking is magical all on its own.”

“It’s bad enough that I have to work on this project with you. If I go on this break with you, will you leave me alone to complete this project?”

“Maybe,” you said, scooping up your belongings and rushing out the library before he could change his mind. You inwardly cheered when he followed you.

Tom didn’t take any of your words seriously, but when he bit into the biscuit, the buttery goodness that melted in his mouth made him feel like he was coming home to a place he never knew he belonged to. Not that he would ever tell you.

“What’s your favourite astrological event?” He asked as he savoured the biscuit.

“I love meteor showers, though I’ve never seen one before. Imagine seeing a cluster of stars raining down the sky,” you said, after a moment’s pause.

“Don’t have to imagine, I’ve seen it before,” he said unimpressed.

Your eyes widened in fascination. “What did you wish for?”

He looked affronted. “I don’t do wishes, I make things happen.”

You slapped your thigh and his eyes followed your movement, making you blush. “How could you not make a wish? It’s like having a magic lamp and using it as a teapot. Where’s the wonder and romance?”

“Magic is a science, it’s why we’re here,” he insisted.

“We’re here for biscuits,” you declared instead and shoved another into your mouth. He inwardly smiled. Sure, if anything were to be magical the way you saw it, he supposed it could be those heavenly biscuits. 

He was sure that was the last time he’d meet you outside of class. But the very next day, he found your squiggly handwriting on his timetable again. “Library with y/n for Astronomy project + snack break :)” He sighed, but he secretly looked forward to the buttery biscuits.

You made good progress on the project as the days passed. Tom continued to be surprised by your helpful contributions. Sure they were unconventional and your process was far too scattered for his liking, but you came up with creative ideas and were equally as committed as he was to the project.

Tom suggested extra research for some information he wanted to include and you managed to read all the chapters he wrote down. All for the love of education. You were certainly not a girl trying to impress your crush. Nope.

The snack breaks were also not as miserable as Tom thought they would be. You got to know each other better and there was something strangely fascinating about you. Then there were those life-changing biscuits.

He sometimes found himself craving those buttery goods during his long hours of studying. The problem was that he could not get them anywhere else except from you. It didn’t help that you were nearly done with your project and would soon have no reason to see each other. That diabolical woman, he thought.

Something else stayed with him. On one of your snack breaks, you finally built up the courage to ask Tom about his dating life. He managed to deflect and turn the question around to you, but you didn’t mind. Hopefully you sharing would one day help him open up to you.

“What was the last date you’ve been on?” He asked and you watched in slow motion when he licked the corner of his lip to catch a stray crumb. You had to dig your nails into your palm to stop yourself from squealing.

Then you thought hard about his question. “What qualifies as a date?” You asked cautiously.

“Someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.”

“Well,” you turned it over in your head, “then I guess I’ve never been on a date before.” You quickly added, “I have had boyfriends before, we just did things they liked and anyway, it’s no big deal.”

It had been days, but he still seethed at the memory. He was not one for romance, but even he felt indignant that all that sunshine and sweetness was wasted on boys who didn’t know what they had. That evening, he added you to his timetable himself. He was going to set things right.

“Are you sure you’re not here to m*rder me and take full credit for our brilliant project?” You asked as you followed Tom Riddle deeper into the woods. You hugged your coat tightly as the evening chill swept around you. The crickets chirped and twigs snapped below your feet.

“Do you think I’d announce it if I was? Besides, there’s no one around so you’ll just have to trust me,” he replied.

“I thought we were becoming friends,” you remarked.

“Never assume things,” he said matter of fact.

You gripped your wand tightly and walked on. He was right. You followed a boy into the woods at night because you had a crush on him. You cursed inwardly and vowed to make better decisions in your next life.

We’re here!” he announced. There was a clearing ahead and before you could ask what it was, he pointed to the sky. “Should be about now,” he commented. The next moment, you watched as stars glittered and rained down the sky. It was a meteor shower. Your eyes brightened, reflecting the glowing lights that dove through the sky.

“You said you’ve never seen one before and it just so happens there’s one tonight and this is the perfect spot,” he explained before you could even ask. He then asked you to make a wish.

“Only if you make a wish with me,” you said, looping your arm around him. You figured it was the closest he’d allow a hug. Surprisingly, he stayed beside you, letting you lean into him.

“Isn’t it enough to just watch this with you? You like it, don’t you?”

The pieces clicked in your head. “You said and I quote ‘a date was when someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.’ Mr. Tom Riddle, is this your way of telling me you like me? Is this,” you motioned at the stars and around you, “a date?”

“What did I tell you about assuming things?” He deflected and pointed at the stars again. “They won’t fall forever, you know. Are you going to use this magical lamp as your teapot?”

Perhaps it was the shooting stars or the cold evening air, or being alone with the boy you liked in the dark forest, that made you bold. 

“What if you’re the only one who can grant my wish?” You gave him your brightest smile and Tom could read all the words you’d never speak aloud in your eyes. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips and he brought them down to yours.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle and you wrapped your arms around him, letting your body melt against him. He pulled you in closer, his arms strong and confident as if you belonged to him. He placed tender kisses down your jaw, moving slowly to your neck, and as you gazed up, you watched the last of the stars fall down the sky. 

The cold bit down your skin as Tom stepped back and you immediately missed his warmth. “You like me!” You beamed.

“How are you so sure I’m not just after the biscuits?”

You wrapped your arms around him, enjoying the warmth again. “I’ll bake you all the biscuits you want. Doesn’t change the fact that you also like me, which works perfectly because I like you too. You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Tom returned the hug. Not that he wanted to get rid of you anyway.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party

A/N: Tom secretly liking biscuits is so adorable. A subtle nod to our tea party!

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Fix Your Problems, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.1K

Summary: Y/N needs to vent, but Rafe needs to solve her issues.

Masterlist

Girls know that when another girl comes to them with a problem, it is just to vent about the issue that they have. Boys. Well, boys like to go to each other for solutions and Rafe isn’t innocent of that mentality. Before Y/N, Rafe hadn’t been in a relationship, so he didn’t have a chance to learn that women just need an outlet to voice their frustration. And he is about to be taught that lesson. He waits for her at the coffee shop with a mug of coffee in his hand and a hot chocolate across from him for her. His fingers tap along the ceramic mug. He looks out the window to see if he can spot her arrival. This is the first time that they are going to be seeing each other in person after returning to campus from the holiday break and he anticipates seeing her again. He wants to see all the gifts she got this Christmas and she is excited to show him. He spots the pompom of her pastel green hat that he sent over to her for Christmas. A massive grin grows on his face and he knows the bell sounding announces her entrance. As she slides into the booth across from him, she leans over the table to kiss him on the lips. “Hey, Rafe. How are you?” she greets. 

He can see something is wrong. There is a slight furrow of her brow and a slight dip of her lip that she is trying to hide. He plays along with her pleasantries for now, “I’m good now that I get to see you, Angel. How was your Christmas?” “It was good. I got to spend time with my family. I was also pleasantly surprised with how many gifts I woke up to on Christmas morning. Some handsome fella even gave me this pretty bracelet with his initials on it. I think I might keep it and him around,” she recounts, holding out her wrist for him to see. He takes her arm into his hand, “Wow. That handsome fella must really be special if you are wearing this even though you have only been dating him for around four months.” “Yeah, I guess you can say that I love him,” she teases and kisses him. “Thank you for the gifts, Rafe. I just wish you told me we were also sending each other stuff because I hate the thought of you not getting anything from me on Christmas.”

His warm hand cups her cheek and his thumb brushes reassuringly against her skin. “Don’t worry about it, Angel. You gave me my gift before we left for break. Plus, getting that FaceTime call from you on Christmas day was my gift,” he promises. She kisses his wrist and this thumb goes to trace the slope of her lips. He can’t be in the dark about her sadness anymore. “What’s wrong, my angel? Why do you seem so sad?” he questions. She shrugs, “Nothing, I’m fine.” “Please, don’t lie to me. I can see something is wrong,” he pleads to her. She sighs, “It’s stupid, but Stacey is having a back-to-school get-together this weekend and she didn’t invite me. I guess I feel a little left out.” “That’s not very nice of her. Have you tried telling her how you feel?” he suggests. She shakes her head, “No. Do you know how embarrassing it would be to run to her like a little schoolgirl and tell her she hurt my feelings?” Rafe understands what she is saying and slides in on her side of the booth. He rests her head on his chest, vowing to help her with her problem. 

———

Rafe knocks on Stacey’s door and puts his hands behind his back. She opens the door with a slight frown at who is waiting for her. “Uh, Rafe. What are you doing here? Is everything okay with Y/N?” she worries, knowing that Rafe only cares about one person. Rafe’s head moves from side to side, “Actually, she isn’t okay. You didn’t invite her to your get-together this weekend.” Stacey nods and cracks her knuckles nervously. “I did not. Because, you see, Y/N and I aren’t really that close of friends and this party is for girls that I am really close to,” Stacey tries to explain. Her mouth shuts when she sees that is not the answer Rafe is looking for. He chuckles, “Obviously, she feels close enough to you that she feels left out by what you did.” He pauses to see if Stacey has anything to add to her defence. She doesn’t. “You know what I want you to do, correct?” Her head hinges up and down, “Yes, I understand. I’m sorry that I hurt Y/N’s feelings.” “Good, I’m glad we can come to a conclusion. I’ll see you later,” he grins and heads back home. 

———

Y/N doesn’t bother to knock. She uses his passcode to storm into his room and finds him on his bed. He sits up right at the sight of her. “Is everything okay, Angel? You didn’t tell me you were coming over,” he frets, rushing to her side. Her arms cross over each other, “You forced Stacey to invite me to her party.” “I did. You said you felt left out that you weren’t invited,” he states. He places his hands above her elbows. She lets out a low laugh, “Why would you do that?” 

“Because you had a problem and you needed help fixing it.”

“Rafe, most of the time, when I come to you with my problems, I don’t want you to fix them. I just want you to listen and agree that I am in the right.”

“Why can’t I fix your problems if I have the solution? Come on, let me fix your problems, Angel.” 

“Sometimes girls just want someone to vent to. Plus, I don’t even like Stacey so the last thing I want to do is go to her party, but now, I have to go because you made a point of getting her to invite me,” she complains. He chuckles and pulls her into a hug, “Okay, I’ll take that venting thing into account for next time. Angel, if you didn’t want to go to the party, then why did it bother you so much?” “Because I wanted to be able to turn her down,” she mumbles, burying her face into his neck. He lets out an amused breath, “I see. Well, I’m sorry that I ruined your ability to reject her. If you want, I can call you with an emergency half an hour into the party so you can leave early.” Y/N pulls back to look him in the eyes. “That is the least you can do. You are getting me sushi too,” she orders. “Sounds fair. I’ll do whatever you want, Angel.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 12 - Knife Play

pairing: dom!Natasha x sub!Reader

summary: Natasha interrogates you, and you have fun.

content warnings: knife, restraints

word count: 2.1k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

You looked up through your eyelashes, eyes hard, and locked on the figure slowly moving towards you from across the room. You felt your heart jump slightly as deft fingers slowly slid a knife out of its holder. 

The shiny silver metal glinted slightly underneath the singular lamp illuminating the room. If you had to guess, you were somewhere near the coast in a warehouse. The faint sounds of waves breaking sounded out, muffled from the walls. You were tied to a chair, your wrists cuffed in front of you on a solid metal table. 

The table was bolted down, you’d already tried to flip it earlier, your muscles protesting from the effort of your attempt. So you’d conserved your energy, knowing you’d need it once the Black Widow arrived. 

And here she was, looking almost exactly the same as the last time you’d run into her. That was four months ago, but if she and her Avenger friends were anything, they were persistent. It was rather annoying, actually. 

“You changed your hair,” you say, leaning back as far as you can while chained. Your nonchalant demeanor pisses her off, you can tell by the slight twitch in her left eye. 

Natasha ignores your comment, her dark green eyes locked on yours as she moves closer. She looks like a predator who’s finally caught its prey, and you’d be lying if the look in her eye didn’t send pleasant shivers down your spine. 

“I’ve finally caught you,” Natasha murmurs, stopping right next to you and leaning against the table. If you were able to move your hands, you’d be able to touch her thigh. Even so, the heat radiating from her body warms your fingers. “It was laughably easy.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you chuckle, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you notice the way her lips purse at the name. “You only caught me because I wanted you to.”

“Okay I’ll bite,” Natasha says, crossing her arms. “Why did you want to be caught?”

Smiling, you wait a moment before responding, letting your eyes trail over the muscles you can see beneath her Black Widow suit. “Because I had so much fun last time, don’t you remember?”

Looking back at her face, you watch as she clenches her jaw slightly. Another one of her tells. You’re certain that she’s remembering the way you flirted with her, your fingers grazing her body as you fought, distracting her enough that you were able to slip away once your planned diversion happened. 

“You blew up one of our training facilities just to get away from me,” she says, her eyes hard even as they glance down slightly. 

You lick your lips, smirking at her. You’d purposefully worn a button-up shirt, leaving one too many buttons undone. A lacy black and red bra peeked out just underneath the fabric, and you love the way Natasha’s breath stuttered slightly when she caught sight of it. 

“Nobody was inside,” you say, your words flippant. “Besides, you know I love a dramatic exit.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at that, and you’re careful to not smile too widely. God, it’s so exhilarating to get her to lower her guard. 

“Why are you messing with SHIELD?” Her voice is softer at this question, and if you weren’t utterly convinced that she hated you, you’d hear the concern woven through her words. 

This time, you make sure your face is serious. Natasha sits up straighter, knowing the next words out of your mouth are going to be nothing but the truth. “SHIELD has caused nothing but pain, always claiming to protect the public. Who was the cause of all of the problems they’ve fought for the public?”

You wait for a few seconds, watching Natasha’s face as the realization sets in. 

“That's right, SHIELD. When Loki tried to take over the world and let those aliens into New York, why was he on Earth? Right, because SHIELD wanted to use the Tesseract to build better weapons. What they don’t realize is that by trying to use powerful items that aren’t meant to be on Earth, they’re inviting those threats to our world at the expense of citizens just trying to live their lives.”

You finish your rant, breathing heavily for a moment while Natasha watches you. Regaining your composure, you smile at her. It's dazzling and bright, and it throws her off. 

“But the better answer is that I just wanted to see you, малышка.”

Natasha blinks, scoffing at your pet name. She fiddles with her knife for a moment, before looking back up. “They’ve sent me in here to get answers from you.”

“I know,” you respond easily, cracking your neck before settling back into your chair. “But you and I both know that I won’t give you anything.”

“We’ll see about that,” she murmurs, and your heart rate spikes when those dark green eyes glance down at your chest again. This time, they don’t move. 

The knife in her hand slowly drags along the metal table, the sound grating your ears for a moment. You grimace in annoyance, looking up at Natasha with a cold look. She smirks at you, bringing the knife to your fingertips. 

“First question,” she whispers, the knife gently running along your hands and forearms. “What is your real name?”

“Aww why, so you can put me in your contacts to call later?” 

Natasha drags the knife slightly deeper, creating a shallow cut on the back of your hand. “Wrong answer,” she says, her lips inches from your ear. Her tongue peeks out, licking the shell of your ear while you shiver beneath her. 

The knife drags further up your body, grazing your hard nipple before the cold metal rests on your sternum. Pressing the tip further into your skin, she drags the knife down towards the top of your breasts. 

“Don’t-” you blurt out, but it’s too late. 

Her knife pops the button holding your shirt together, and you sigh. “This was a very expensive shirt, Natasha.”

“Oh,” she says, her eyebrows threaded in false sympathy. She pops another button. “Oops, my hand slipped.”

The tip of the knife drags over your stomach as she continues to pop the rest of your buttons, her hands quick as she pushes the fabric to the side to reveal your torso. 

“This is a nice bra,” she says, her pupils dilating. Natasha looks back up at you, leaning in until her lips are close to yours. You can feel her breath against your skin, and you breathe in her cinnamon scent eagerly. “Not very practical, though.’

“I wore it just for you, детка.”

“Cute,” Natasha says, before smirking and digging her blade under the front of the bra and cutting it cleanly. “Tell me your name and I’ll leave your pants in one piece.”

“Who says I want to keep them on?” You smile widely at her. 

“Smartass,” Natasha retorts, dragging her knife deeper over your skin. 

You flinch, letting out a soft breath as she leaves shallow cuts over your chest. You can feel your underwear dampening, and your hips move slightly. 

Natasha catches the movement, her other hand moving to your upper thigh and caressing you there. Her touch is warm and confident, and you breathe in deeply as you attempt to regain your composure. 

“Just tell me your first name, then I’ll give you what you want,” Natasha emphasizes her words by sliding her hand further up your thigh. Her thumb rests dangerously close to your aching core, and you bite your lip. 

“Why, so you know what to scream in bed?” 

Smirking, Natasha places the tip of her knife over your nipple, digging in slightly as you wince. “You can either comply and feel good, or you can be a brat and scream for me while I cut your nipple off.”

Her voice is hard, and you instantly know that she’s not joking around. Ah, what’s the harm in just telling her your first name, right?

“It’s Y/N,” you gasp out, breathing a sigh of relief when she drags the knife away from your nipple. 

“Very good,” she murmurs, holding the knife against your neck. 

You freeze, feeling her other hand cup your overheated core. Holy fuck does it feel good. A soft moan escapes your traitorous lips, and you abandon all dignity as you grind your hips into Natasha’s hand. 

“Does that feel good? Do you want more?” Natasha’s lips are on your ear again, and you nod quickly, your mind racing. “Tell me your last name and I’ll give you my fingers.”

You laugh, throwing her off guard. The knife at your throat digs in slightly, and you let the laugh die as you tilt your head to look at her. “I’ll never tell you my last name, that’s a promise.”

Your smile is wide, your eyes slightly crazed as you continue to grind against her hand. “But,” you say, catching her attention. “I’ll tell you the location of my home base if you can make me cum.”

Natasha mulls it over, watching your desperation grow. “Fine,” she says after a few moments, “But if you refuse to answer then this will only get worse for you.”

Nodding at her, you watch as she slips her hand inside your pants. Her fingers expertly find your clit, circling it as you moan lewdly before thrusting deeply into your wet, aching pussy. 

It doesn’t take long for you to cum. The combined sensation of her fingers curling deep inside you while her knife solidly digs into your throat is enough to send you tumbling over the edge into a powerful orgasm. 

You cum around her fingers, clenching down tightly on them while you shake and shudder. Natasha watches you through it all, her eyes dark and needy as she watches you come undone. 

Eventually, she pulls her fingers from you. Bringing them to her mouth, she sucks your cum and arousal off of them, closing her eyes briefly and groaning at the taste.

Smiling, you lean back slightly in satisfaction as you watch. You had to admit, she was talented with her fingers. Natasha removes the knife from your throat, only a faint stinging sensation lingering from where she’d pressed the blade against you. 

“Good, now it’s your turn to answer-” she cuts herself off, tilting her head as she listens to something in her earpiece. 

You watch her expression harden, her eyes glancing over to you while her fingers tighten around the handle of her knife. She barks out a quick confirmation of her position, before following it with a quick ‘Yes, Sir.’

Natasha’s eyes lock on yours, and she leans down with her knife pointed directly at your heart. “I have to go deal with something, if I find out that you were involved with this in any way, you’re in for a world of pain. Got it?”

If you could raise your hands, you would. Instead, you settle back as much as you can, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’ll be here when you return, don’t worry.”

Narrowing her eyes at your words, Natasha licks the blood off of the tip of her knife while you watch with your mouth open. She smirks, then turns on her heel and walks quickly towards the door she’d entered. She glances back at you one last time before exiting, her eyes dark and hard. 

You give her a two-fingered wave, chuckling at the resounding slam of the door. Waiting a few moments, you tap your foot as you count to 30. Once you’re sure she’s gone, no doubt dealing with the distraction you’d instructed your team to create, you slip a paper clip from your sleeve and quickly unlock your restraints. 

Standing, you stretch for a moment before casually walking towards the window. You can hear a helicopter overhead, a rope dangling in front of the window. Unlatching the window, you wrap your torn shirt around you as tight as you can, tying the front so you aren’t completely exposed. 

Honestly, as hot as the action was, you couldn’t help but be slightly annoyed at the inconvenience. What was your team doing to think about you once they saw you with cuts all over your chest and a smile on your face? 

You move to climb out the window, one leg swinging over the sill as you grab the rope with your hands when the door clangs open.

Looking back you make eye contact with Natasha as she stands frozen for a moment, knife in hand. She shouts something, but you’re already being pulled from the window by the rope, a laugh escaping your lips as you watch her run towards you. 

By the time Natasha reaches the window, you’re 50 feet in the air, being pulled up towards the helicopter as it speeds away. You blow her a kiss, a wide smile on your face as you watch her stab her knife into the window sill. It was always so thrilling, this game of cat-and-mouse.

Maybe next time she’d finally capture you successfully.

[momotonescreaming]

STWG Daily Prompt: Date Night

“Does Thursday work?” Jeff asks, voice tinny and sort of muffled. Eddie can hear the sound of flipping pages, the creak of the plastic from the phone's speaker. 

“Shit, sorry dude.” Eddie says, looking at the loose pages of lined paper he's scribbled his schedule on. It works for him, and it's better than nothing. “That's date night.” 

A pause. For a moment, all Eddie can hear is the sound of Jeff breathing through the speaker. 

“Date night, huh?” Jeff eventually asks, and Eddie can hear the smarmy grin he's wearing. It's leaking into his voice, the absolute delight in it all. Just the right side of teasing, the bastard. He'd hate it, would snap and snarl and throw it all back if he wasn't also fucking delighted. 

He could say that now. He had a boyfriend, who holds his hands and kisses him and schedules date nights. He gets this. He gets to talk about it with his best friend. Can mention he has a date and doesn't have to hide the fact that it's with his boyfriend. He gets to share in the gentle ribbing for once. It's not just him on the outside looking in — as they tease Gareth for getting a date with a girl from his English class, or Jeff hitting his anniversary with his girlfriend. 

Eddie's been domesticated and he doesn't mind in the slightest. 

“Yes, it's date night,” Eddie retorts, trying to send as much faux malice down the phone as he can. He's smiling though, as he sits at the kitchen table, phone cord absently tangled through his fingers. “And Steve's been working hard planning it, so I will not be rescheduling.” 

“I didn't ask you to,” Jeff laughs, tone light. 

“Well good.” Eddie teases, wishing they were having this conversation in person so he could stick his tongue out. Really ham it up. 

Another pause, and Eddie uses the silence to flip through his papers, looking through all the events and dates and times he's scribbled out. Fuck, he really needs a calendar. 

“So?” Jeff prompts, drawing the word out. “Tell me about date night.” 

“You sound like your mother,” Eddie laughs, holding the phone in between his ear and his shoulder, pinning it there so he can free up his hands. So he can sort through his papers and fidget with the phone cord at the same time “Begging for gossip.” 

“You love my mother,” Jeff retorts — snappish — but it's obvious he's smiling. Laughing through it. “And you say that like you aren't gagging to talk about it. Come on.” 

“Okay fine,” Eddie relents. Sighing as he sinks into his chair, slouching, his socked feet skating across the floor. “You caught me.” 

“Not hard,” Jeff laughs. 

“Steve’s been talking a lot about wooing me lately,” Eddie starts, ignoring Jeff’s teasing. He finds himself smiling as he talks, creeping across his face uncontrollably. Fuck, the things Steve does to him. “As if he hasn’t wooed me already. So he’s planned this like, romantic dinner at home. Instead of going out to Enzo’s he wants to like, bring Enzo’s to us? Said he was going to treat me right. Have the fancy dinner I deserve, where we can play footsie under the table and hold hands without, y’know, worrying.”

By the end of his sentence Eddie’s feeling like he’s melting into his chair, insides melting into something soft and gooey. Pulling his hair across his face to hide his blush. Jeff can’t even see him, but he can’t help it. He wants to giggle and kick his feet. Jump and scream and flail around. It’s all building up inside him, this honey sweet affection. He doesn’t quite know what to do with it all. 

“He going to light candles? Have soft music playing in the background?” Jeff asks, teasing melting away into something softer. 

“Literally yes,” Eddie exclaims, dropping his hair and trying not to wiggle too much in his seat. “He’s so sweet, I’m going to throw up.”

“He’s good for you, man.” Jeff says simply, and it means a lot. That other people can see it — can know — just how happy Steve makes him. 

[Part Two]

[luxurychristmaspudding]

Mutual | Lucien De Leon x f!Reader

summary: you and lucien have both been invited to this dinner with explicit instructions: play nice. but it's kind of hard when you can't stand each other. even harder when the meaning begins to blur with his hands on you.

pairing: lucien de leon x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. smoking, drinking. idk, hate fucking essentially. misuse of a champagne bottle, edging?, sexual tension, f!masturbation, unprotected p in v (you know what to do, and it's not this), oral (f!receiving). reader wears a dress and is implied to be shorter than lucien, but is otherwise undescribed.

wc: 4.8k

an: i succumbed.

The only thing you and Lucien De Leon have in common is the need for a cigarette after dinner. 

Nothing else.

You stand on opposite sides of the patio outside the open glass doors which lead back into Anna and Alex’s house, and you know that Anna, at the very least, will be watching you. Making sure you play nice.

Something you’d vowed to do when she’d called to invite you to this dinner party. Lucien will be there, she’d said, it’d be great for me, for us, if you two just tried to get along. 

So far, you’ve succeeded. You’d listened politely to his stories at the table, hadn't even rolled your eyes when he laughed and joked and flirted with your fellow guests. You’d drunk your wine and stayed quiet through it all, offering your own contributions to the equal delight of the friends who'd gathered. You’d been surprised when Lucien had smiled along with them, even going so far as to chuckle at your story about the dog next door.

And now, outside, the rule still stands. You eye each other as you smoke, finding yourself amazed again by the way he doesn’t speak. Not a snide thing to say, no quip to make, just him watching you. Eyes flitting from your legs, to your hips, to your chest, to your face. And you’d tell him to quit it if you weren’t doing the same thing. If you weren’t enjoying the way his silk shirt hangs off his broad shoulders, the way his curls flop over his forehead, the way his chains catch the light, the way his stupid, pretty eyes glitter across from you. You hate yourself for it, want to crack some nasty sentiment across the stone, but you don’t. 

You’re on your best behaviour, after all.

Something which Lucien has clearly forgotten as he pushes himself off from the wall he’s leaned against, stepping closer, closer to you by the bush with the red flowers. You brace yourself for whatever it is he’s about to say, for whatever smoke he’s about to blow in your face, gearing up for the taunt you’ll throw back. 

He stops before you, barely an arms length away. You tense, waiting.

He holds out the bottle of champagne he’d swiped from the table on his way out. You blink at him.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m playing nice.’

You stare at him, sceptical. This is not Lucien. This is not something you’re used to.

But maybe he’s trying, too. 

You take the bottle from him, and he lets it go easily. You watch him as you bring it to your lips, tipping it up until the bright fizz of the bubbles meets your tongue. He watches your mouth, pink slip of his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip as he drops the butt of his finished cigarette to the floor, not looking where it lands. You swallow, take another gulp for good measure, and hand it back to him. His fingers graze yours as you do. 

You freeze at the jolt of electricity his touch brings, hand remaining outstretched as he brings the bottle back to his side. You watch, aloof, as he plucks your cigarette from your fingers and flicks it into the darkness before slotting your hands together, mind swirling as he pulls you closer.

‘Come on. Want to show you something.’ 

Maybe it’s the wine, but you can’t find the words to protest as he tugs you away to a deeper part of the garden. 

Lucien turns you to face him at the furthest wall he can find, and you finally find your words as your back hits the concrete.

‘What did you want to show me?’

You glance around behind him at the flowers that burst from the ground, bright even in the darkening half light. The water feature Alex had installed last year trickles musically somewhere to your left, though you can't see it.

His answering grin is dirty, something fluttering in your tummy as you grind your teeth, nostrils flaring. You do not have the patience for this man, or the butterflies churning in your stomach.

‘Lucien.’

His hands find your waist and the curve of your ass in a flurry of movement, his grip strong, the bottle cold through the material of your dress. The air leaves your lungs. He hums as he draws himself close to your lips.

‘How beautiful you look tonight.’

You snort at him, disbelieving. He can’t be fucking serious.

‘Lucien, what the fuck -’

He cuts you off quickly, dipping to fit his mouth to yours in a searing kiss, hand moving from your ass to your jaw as he licks into your mouth. Your blood roars in your ears as your own hands scrabble to find purchase on his chest, slipping against the silk. You mean to push him away, but somehow you pull him closer, your body doing the opposite of what it’s told as you open your mouth further to him, groaning softly. He tastes like champagne and cigarettes, and you grip his neck to bring him further in, your other hand smoothing over his bunched shoulder, his strong bicep, down to his waist, fisting his shirt. He chuckles against your lips, and sharp anger surges in your gut. Shit. This is Lucien.

You use the hand at his middle to push him roughly away from you.

‘Get the fuck off me.’

He smirks, one hand still on your hip as he takes a swig from the bottle of champagne. You watch him, breathing heavily, stare as his lips close around the mouth of the bottle, and you're betrayed by what you’ve only pictured in your most secret moments. Your eyelids flutter, fingers twitch for him, cunt clenches around something that isn't there. He comes towards you again, and this time you close the gap, leaning forward to crash your mouth against his. You lick at the seam of his lips but he keeps them obstinately shut, and with irritation flashing through you, you drag your nails hard down his forearm in retaliation. He grips the nape of your neck, pulling your head back, and taking advantage of your open lips, spills the champagne off his tongue and onto yours. It's warm, still sparkling. Tastes like him. You swallow it down greedily, reminding yourself that you should be disgusted, certainly shouldn’t be pulling him in to kiss him again, shouldn’t moan so loud when he grinds his hips against yours as he rumbles how you drive him fucking insane against your neck. Shouldn’t be so wet, pinned up against this wall by a man you have long held such disdain for, shouldn’t grind back against him, shouldn’t be panting into his mouth like some kind of dog, shouldn't be forgetting where you are, who you’re with -

This time, you’re more forceful. Lucien stumbles back with hooded eyes and shining, swollen lips, his own breathing coming fast and deep. You stare back at him, still stunned, and without meaning to, your eyes drop down to his crotch, finding the fabric there tight with his arousal. He’s big, must be with the way his zipper is straining. Your mouth runs dry, your stomach swoops. Fuck.

You watch with as much disgust as you can manage as he palms himself roughly to relieve some of the ache, your own hands itching to do the same.

‘So pretty, baby,’ he teases, stepping forwards, head falling towards yours again. Why won’t he stay away? ‘So pretty, wanting me like this -’

‘Stop,’ you hiss. It’s unconvincing even to your ears, and he smirks like he knows. He knows. ‘I don’t - I don’t want you like this -’

He presses his forehead to yours, not touching you this time, instead letting his nose trace your cheekbone, your jaw, down to your neck.

‘You don’t want me like this?’ He purrs. You manage to shake your head. You can feel his smile as he laves a hungry, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse point, and you whimper, hot all over, so wet, so needy for him. He chuckles again. ‘No,’ he confirms. ‘Then maybe… like this.’

He sinks to his knees in front of you, curls mussed, lips parted, eyes blown. He stares up at you, reverent, taunting, as he skates his broad palms over the tops of your thighs, stroking the skin, murmuring how soft you are. Oh, and you are so fucking angry. So fucking angry as he grips and soothes your flesh, as he squeezes and kneads your ass, as you hold onto his strong shoulders and breathe his name. Even more pissed when he doesn’t have some kind of asshole comment to make, furious as he leans into you and presses kisses to where his hands have been, mouthing at your skin, leaving it wet with his spit, with champagne, so fucking mad as he sips from the bottle again and spills the liquid from his mouth onto your thighs, as he kneels back to watch it trickle over your knees, down your shins, to your feet, to drip onto the floor. You are on fire.

‘See? Beautiful.’ He murmurs. And oh, what you’d do. What you’d do to him. You’d pull at his hair and scratch at his chest and bite into his neck and you’d make him suffer, make him ache, make him feel the same heat you’re feeling. You just can’t seem to move.

Can’t seem to move as he brings his mouth closer to your cunt, splitting the folds of your wrap dress further, pushing his hands up to your hips, holding you still as he takes in your lace panties, the only thing covering you from him. He looks up to you again, burning with desire. Your cunt pulses painfully, and you hiss his name.

He smiles, cruelly.

‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he murmurs, ‘We’re playing nice, remember?’

Your retort dies in your throat as he presses his face to your clothed cunt and breathes in deeply. He moans loudly, and you whimper in response, hands flying to his hair at the feeling of his hot breath on you, tugging as he mouths at your pussy through the material. You feel his tongue, warm and strong, drag over the lace covering your clit and you groan, going slack against the wall. He nudges the swollen nub with his nose, his free hand coming between your legs to touch you.

‘So wet,’ he breathes, ‘That what I’m doing to you?’

You shake your head no even though he can’t see you, still playing with your pussy through your underwear. A plea bubbles up your throat, and you swallow it down. You will not beg Lucien Flores to touch you. You don’t even know how you got here in the first place.

But that’s forgotten as he moves again, kissing your clit through the fabric as he brings his other hand, still holding the bottle, between your legs. You hiss as he presses the lip of it to your hole, all protests forgotten as he grinds it against you, the pressure easing a small amount of the ache you feel.

You forget that it’s wrong as he uses it to push your panties to the side. Forget as he runs the cold glass through your wetness, almost do beg him to touch you, to lick you, to do something before he settles it against your slit, right where you think you might need it most.

‘Still don’t want me?’ he breathes against your skin.

A shallow breath escapes you.

‘Fuck you.’ You whisper, no conviction behind your words. He rests his forehead against your hip, and begins to press, begins to relieve some of that ache, that want -

‘Luce?’ Anna calls out from the direction of the house. You freeze, fist tightening around his curls, but Lucien is unphased, working the mouth of the bottle past the tight opening of your pussy. You gasp brokenly at the cool feel of it, fingers constricting even further. Lucien moans beneath you, moving to nose at the crease between your thigh and your cunt, pushing the neck of the bottle further in. You moan loudly, knees giving a little, and he clutches your hip tighter to keep you from falling.

‘Luce?’ Anna calls again, a little closer this time. You groan his name in response, torn between wanting more and wanting this to end before disaster.

The next Lucien? comes even closer, and you use your grip on his hair to pull his face away from you, tipping his head back so that he meets your eye.

‘Stop.’ You bite out. He grins and gives one more pump of the neck of the bottle. You whimper, head falling back to the concrete behind you as he removes it completely, rising to his feet with a groan. You watch, bleary eyed, leaking, chest heaving, as he dusts off his pants and adjusts himself, his eyes never leaving yours. He steps back and away, eyes raking over your body as he raises the bottle to his mouth, licking around the neck before taking a deep drink and disappearing back up the path.

He’s sick. You hate him.

You return to the house on shaky legs through the backdoor, hoping to make it to the bathroom, only to be intercepted by Alex. He’s scraping leftover food into the bin, and smiles as you enter before double taking at your appearance. You must look wrecked.

‘Are you alright?’ He asks, brow creasing with concern.

You hum, clearing your throat before answering.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

Alex raises an eyebrow at you.

‘Did he say something to you?’ he asks.

‘Did he - what?’

‘Lucien. Did he upset you?’

You blink at him. Right. Play nice.

‘I - no. He didn’t. He was actually quite pleasant.’

Alex stares at you.

‘Pleasant?’

‘Yeah.’

You hold his gaze for a little longer, feel a guilty little heat crawl its way through your belly. 

You’re warm, so unbearably warm.

‘Is it alright if I go and lay down upstairs for a bit?’ You ask. ‘I feel kind of funny.’

Alex frowns, placing the plate he was holding on the counter.

‘Sure,’ he says, ‘Do you need anything?’

You smile weakly, shaking your head.

‘No,’ you reassure him, ‘That’s okay, thank you. I just need a moment.’

The guest room on the top floor is cool, and the curtains are open. Warm, orange light floods in from the street outside, and you settle yourself on the middle of the bed, ready to get this over with. There’s no way you can go back downstairs with this need, this coil wound so tight in your belly. You swoop your palms over your body, nipples tightening beneath your dress, feeling the swirl, the drip of yourself between your legs. You grind the heel of your palm against your mound and moan softly, rucking your dress up to your hips so you can slip your fingers beneath the lace.

Fuck, you are so wet. So goddamn turned on by that stupid man that you may as well throw your underwear away. You sweep a finger over your clit, hips twitching at the contact, eyes falling shut as you dip the digit to your entrance to collect your arousal, working the nub in tight circles. 

Your legs fall slack as you build yourself up, moans falling from your mouth in quick succession as you imagine what it would have been like to have him take you there, against the wall. What it would have been like to be fucked with the bottle, to have his tongue really on you, mimicking your movements now, to fall apart against his mouth, see him pull away with your slick covering his face. You rock your hips against your hand, quickening your movements, fingers dipping in and out of your slit between working your clit as the coil tightens and tightens, as the hot, heavy feeling grows and grows, as sweat beads at your temples and the valley between your breasts, as you try not to moan his name -

Like you’ve summoned him, Lucien clears his throat in the doorway. 

You snap your legs shut, heart hammering in your chest, heat blooming through your cheeks.

‘You fucking - asshole -’ you seethe, and he laughs, eyes roving over your sweaty body. ‘Get out.’

‘Wanted to check you were alright.’

You gape at him.

‘Fucking bullshit, Lucien,’ you grit, snatching your hand out of your soaked cunt. You bundle it in the silk of your dress as you try to cover yourself, but his eyes follow, tracing the glint of your slick in the dim light. 

‘Seems like you’re okay, though,’ he continues, slouching against the doorframe. ‘Just look like you could do with some help.’

You choke on a laugh, frozen, glaring at him from the bed. He bites his lip.

‘You’re fucking insane.’

‘Insane enough to fuck you.’

You inhale sharply, trying to ignore the flash of arousal that shoots through you, clenching your jaw.

‘You are not going to fuck me.’

Lucien steps away from the doorframe, moving into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. Without looking, he reaches out with one hand and twists the lock with a click. 

He comes towards you slowly, eyes hungry. Your heart is in your mouth as you watch him, adrenaline kicking in so hard even you’re not sure what you want. Aren’t sure whether you can admit what you want. 

He reaches the end of the bed before dropping a knee onto the mattress, reaching out to grab an ankle, pulling your leg flat. You burn at the feel of him holding you, preventing you from moving, from hiding.

‘Then stop me.’

You don’t. You can’t as he crawls his way up your body, as he touches every inch of skin he can so gently, so delicately. Fresh slick pools out of you at the feeling, at the sight - 

His stupid puppy dog eyes and floppy curls and broad shoulders beneath his silk shirt, silk shirt that looks like sin as it drapes over him, moves with him like water, and his chains, his chains, how they’d look swinging over you as he buries himself inside you, raw and hungry and -

You can’t stop the moan that slips from your lips as his hand cups your cunt, as his mouth finds your neck. Body quickly liquid, molten beneath his touch, legs falling open.

‘Please -’ it slips from your mouth before you can stop it, but it feels good, finally, to have him give you what you need.

‘Good girl,’ he says, ‘Playing so nice.’

He slips his hand beneath the lace of your panties, trailing two fingers through your arousal, mirroring your moan as he does. He circles your clit, dragging you back to where you were, drinking down your noises with his mouth close enough to swallow your breath, but not close enough to kiss. You stare up at him, eyes wide, mouth open, a line forming between your brows. You gasp, so pretty, and he hums, slowing his movements to an agonising pace before slipping them from your heat entirely. You whine at the loss, huffing against the mattress, pouting at him pathetically as he smiles down at you.

‘Let’s get these off.’

He kneels back to pull your underwear away from you, and you wriggle at the cool air that comes into contact with your cunt. You watch, breathless, as he bundles them up and slips them into his back pocket, irritated, but not irritated enough to demand them back. They were expensive.

He drinks in the sight of your bare pussy with ravenous eyes, resting his cheek against the flesh of your thigh. The scruff of his beard tickles and scratches, the feel of it so Lucien, but you can't find it within yourself to care. He brings a single finger up to trace through your folds, and you whine desperately, embarrassingly at the sensation.

‘Pretty enough to make a grown man cry, baby,’ he hums, nuzzling your thigh as he blinks up at you with burning eyes. ‘You ever made a man cry before?’

‘Yeah,’ you breathe, ‘Wanna see if I can make you cry, too?’

He grins, a dirty little thing, before closing his teeth over the soft skin at your hip. You moan again, and he leans in closer, licking a long, hot, wet stripe from your hole to your clit. You shudder, a broken sound escaping your mouth. God, what is wrong with you?

‘So sweet,’ he murmurs, ‘You always this wet when someone teases you?’

You arch your back against him, head turning in the sheets.

‘No,’ you groan, ‘Get this wet when I’m about to make myself come.’

He huffs a laugh against you before driving his tongue against your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth. He is hot and wet against you, so strong and soft like velvet as he tastes you, holds your thighs apart with his strong hands, fingers pressing in so hard you’re sure they’ll bruise. You writhe beneath him, hands flying to his hair, grinding up into his face. He licks and licks, devouring you, moving his head from side to side, gripping your hips to keep you moving against him as he quickly builds you again back to your high, sliding two fingers inside easily, curling them up into the spot deep inside you. 

You can’t tear your eyes away from him, the strong curves of his body, the sweat on his forehead, the way his eyelids flutter at your noises, those deep brown eyes watching you with something carnal, something possessive in them.

You whine and moan above him, keening as he reaches his other hand up to swipe a thumb over your nipple, pinching it as you plead for more, as you tighten around his fingers, as you flood his mouth, as the toil tightens again, as you teeter on the edge -

Lucien pulls his mouth from you with a wet sound, withdrawing his fingers at the same time. 

You cry out.

‘No,’ you whimper, ‘No, Lucien, please -’

‘Atta girl,’ he says, ‘I knew you could ask nicely. Knew you’d beg.’

Your back flies off the mattress as you reach to claw at him, ready to rip him to shreds, but he’s too quick, kneeling back again to undo his belt, unzip his fly, pull himself out, and oh -

Oh. Fuck. He’s big. The heavy weight of him held in his fist as he pumps himself slowly over you turns your clawing into gentler hands, and he moves so you can wrap yourself around his cock. He feels like silk, so close to his shirt, rock-hard and twitching as you move your hand languidly up and down his length, squeezing, swiping your thumb over his tip as it drips precum. It's hard not to admire him like this, hard to remember why you hate him so much. The ache between your legs borders on unbearable.

He groans loudly, rocking his hips before wrapping his hand around yours, untangling your fingers to hold himself again, guiding his cock towards your entrance. He runs his length back and forth between your folds, covering himself in your slick, feeling your clit twitch beneath him until you beg again - ‘Please, Lucien, please - fuck me -’ before he’s sliding home in one long stroke.

The air is knocked from you at the feeling, at how full you are. He hinges to cage you with his arms, and you clutch at his shirt as he begins to move, slow, so slow. He licks his lips as he watches your face, your mouth in a little ‘o’, neck straining against the pillow, and you move a hand to the back of his neck, wanting to kiss him, wanting to taste him, taste him taste of you. You want to take his plush bottom lip between your teeth and hold it there, hold it there until you taste blood. Bu he picks up the pace, thrusting harder and faster, and you lose your grip, back arching as the delicious burn returns yet again.

‘Fuck -’ you gasp, ‘Holy fuck, Lucien, oh my god -’

‘I know, baby,’ he whispers, fucked out and broken as you already. ‘I know.’

He groans from somewhere deep in his throat, head thrown back to expose his neck, and you want to kiss him again, swallow him down, consume him whole.

You close your teeth over the chain that’s swinging in your face so he can't pull away, and he moans, forehead knocking against yours. You bite down harder, wanting it to break, wanting to shatter it, shatter him. As if he can feel it, he grinds deeper, harder inside of you. You feel yourself clench, feel it begin to spiral. You spit the jewellery out to whimper, scratch down the length of his back over his shirt. He feels so good. Feels so fucking good, and it’s infuriating.

‘I hate you,’ you whine breathlessly. He moans into your neck, breath hot and damp against your skin.

‘Yeah,’ he gasps, ‘Feeling’s mutual, baby.’

He marks the sentiment with a particularly dirty kiss to your throat, and with that, you see stars. You clench and break and stutter around him, splintering and bursting around his cock, crying out so loudly that he secures his large palm over your mouth.

‘Yeah, good girl,’ he pants, ‘Good fucking girl.’

You moan again, and he can feel your body twitch with the aftershocks, contracting and leaking around him. He takes both your legs in his hands and places them on his shoulders, folding you into yourself, fucking into you deeper, harder than before, hitting another angle even more intense than the last. You cry desperately into the pillow, wincing as you tighten again, impossibly fast, too intense, too far away to warn him. But he knows. He can feel it. Tries to hold himself back a little longer to fuck you through it, reaching down to thumb your clit, swiping through the mess you’ve made, he’s made, entranced by the sounds you’re making, the slick sound of him moving in and out of your cunt, the lightheaded feeling he’s got, the desperation, the urge, the need -

He breathes in the scent of your skin as his thrusts get sloppier, inhaling deeply through his nose. He wishes he could kiss you again. Wants to feel the press of your mouth against his, the breaths you take, your tongue against his.

But if he does, it’ll be over. The game will be up, because he won’t be able to hold back the real want he feels, where all this anger stems from. He’s so nasty, so mean because he wants you so bad. So bad, from the moment you met. From the moment you looked him up and down and listened to his arrogant introduction with a little sneer. He wants that attitude - wants to fuck it right out of you.

Your ankle smells sweet against his cheek, and he turns his head to kiss and bite the bone there, feeling you tense and pulse around him at the scrape of his teeth. You twist in the sheets, breathing ragged, eyes scrunched shut, fists clenching the cotton as you moan his name, as you try and bite back the gasps and cries of your second orgasm.

‘Again,’ he grits out, ‘Again.’

‘Lucien -' you cry, reaching for him, ‘Lucien, fuck -'

He comes at the first flutter as you clamp down around him. Buries himself right down to the hilt as he spills inside you, coming with a pained moan and a murmur of your name, eyes fluttering shut as he rocks in and out of your pulsing cunt, fucking his spend deep. He lets your legs fall from his shoulders as he catches his breath, steadying himself with a palm on the mattress as he watches you come down, staring at the rise and fall of your chest beneath your dress, nipples still straining against the fabric. He wants to take them in his mouth, wants to work you up to take you again, but he slips out instead, brushes his hair back from his forehead, watches his cum begin to dribble out of your puffy cunt. You catch him and reach down to run your fingers through the mess of you both, and Lucien looses a strangled groan as you feed it to yourself, tongue working over your digits. You remove them with a pop, sliding your legs closed and settling yourself on your elbows.

He kneels back on the bed, tucking himself back into his pants, trying to focus on something that’s not you for just a moment as you rearrange your dress and swing your legs off the bed. He feels like he should say something, something to cut across what you've just done. Something appropriately callous, but he can't bring himself to. Can't find it within him.

He hasn’t even finished buttoning his pants before you swan out of the room, dress as perfect as it was before, clinging to your curves, moving with your steps. You don’t look back at him as you leave, don’t utter a word.

That familiar flare of anger rises in his chest again. A muscle ticks in his cheek, and he sits down heavily on the bed, clasping his hands together over his knees. He takes a deep breath, exhales through his nose. He soothes himself with the thought of your cunt leaking his cum all over your seat downstairs, thinks about how it’ll ruin your pretty little dress. Tries not to think about how he won’t be tearing you out of it later, won’t be able to taste himself mixing with you like he wants to.

Tries not to think about the perfume you had applied to your ankles.

Tries not to think about how maybe, just maybe, you’ve thought about this, too.

[moamidzyism]

bed chem (c.yj)

☆。.:*·ﾟwc 1073 smut ౨ৎ minors DNI ୨୧ model!yeonjun x model!reader, one night stand, oral (fem receiving) [masterlist • reblogs + feedback appreciated]

yeonjun’s lips trace a slow path down your neck as he pulls you into the hotel room. the door clicks shut behind you. your back meets the cool wood of the door. you lean into it, half-distracted by how much better his room looks compared to yours (something you would definitely be talking to your management about).

but then, his hands, skilled and unhurried, find the zipper of your dress. in a second, it’s gliding down, the fabric falling off your body, and suddenly the room doesn’t matter much anymore. there’s nothing but him and the desperate pull of his body against yours.

a sigh slips from your lips as your fingers thread through his dark hair, tugging ever so slightly to keep him close. but then with maddening ease, he pulls away. his eyes are dark and hungry as they sweep over your now bare shoulders and the dress that pools at your feet. “you looked so good tonight,” he mumbles.

words feel useless. instead, you pull him back to you, capturing his lips again.

you knew yeonjun because you both were signed to the same agency. you were constantly running into each other at industry events. he was a familiar face in a sea of nameless models but your relationship was never anything more than a casual glance from across the room.

it was never supposed to be anything more than that. you had a rule. no dating other models. it was too messy, too much drama, and too close to the career that you had worked so hard to build. but a mutual friend asked for your number on his behalf and for some reason, you didn’t say no.

and tonight was your last night in new york before the whirlwind of fashion month would sweep you to europe. it was one of those fleeting thoughts that lingered too long before you could dismiss it. you’re leaving tomorrow, anyway.

earlier that night he had taken you to one of those dimly lit, exclusive restaurants that you need to book reservations months in advance. although they were good, the food and the drinks didn’t matter. what was important was the way he looked at you from across the table. his eyes were filled with a desire that made the conversation feel like a long, slow tease.

and yeonjun had no problem laying it on thick. his words were soft and sweet, and although you pretended to be coy, batting away his advances with a smile, you knew from the moment you sat down that you’d end up exactly here with him gently kissing down your torso.

he pauses when he reaches the waistband of your underwear. you feel a shiver race down your spine as his lips brush over the fabric. his teasing kiss through your panties leaves you aching for more, and when you feel his teeth graze against your skin, you can’t help but gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair. slowly, excruciatingly so, he pulls your underwear down. the sensation of the cool air hits your bare skin, making you hyper aware of every nerve in your body.

he doesn’t rush. he takes his time, kissing up your thigh, inch by inch. your breath hitches when you feel the warmth of his breath just inches away from your core.

“what do you want me to do?” he looks up at you, his gaze intense and unwavering.  his thick fingers spread your lips apart. his eyes are laser-focused on you, watching you fall apart. he’s watching your every reaction, every tremor, every gasp with a sly, knowing smile on his lips.

he presses a finger into your soaked hole, your walls tightening around him as he moves deeper inside you. you’re so wet, the sound of it fills the room, and you clench hard as he adds another finger, stretching you in a way that has you gasping for breath.

it’s impossible to think straight. the feeling of him inside of you, the way his fingers curl perfectly, hitting just the right spot, sends your mind spiraling. your whines echo off the walls, hips stuttering into his palm, chasing after him with an unbearable desperation.

“i need you,” you manage to whimper. your breath catches in your throat. you need to feel all of him, more than you can put into words. but just as quickly as he gives it, yeonjun pulls his fingers away, leaving you with an aching emptiness that has you on the verge of tears.

before you can even protest, his lips find their way to your clit, and the shock of pleasure wipes away every coherent thought. his hands trace your back, moving down your legs. the cold wooden door presses into your spine, grounding you in this dizzying moment as you grip the back of his head, trying to hold onto something, anything.

he chuckles against you, the vibrations causing you to arch your back and press yourself further into him. he doesn’t miss a beat, using the moment to hook one of your legs over his shoulder, drawing you even closer to his mouth. he buries his face in your pussy, his tongue diving eagerly between your folds.

his nose brushes against your clit with just enough pressure to make you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair as you grind against his face. yeonjun’s hands grip your hips tightly, guiding you closer and closer to your orgasm, pushing you towards it with every low hum that vibrates through your core. your breathes come in shallow gasps, your moans filling the room as you feel yourself inching closer to your orgasm.

the orgasm hits you like a wave. you grind against his face, riding the high as his tongue continues to fuck you, drawing it out until you feel like you might fall apart completely.

when yeonjun finally pulls back, his face is glistening, his lips swollen, but his eyes are still very hungry. he doesn’t let go of you. he stands, lifting you as well, his grip on your legs firm. his lips meet yours in a slow lingering kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. you melt into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck for support, your body still trembling.

when he pulls away, you feel utterly undone, your body heavy and relaxed in his arms. “should we go to the bedroom?” he murmurs and you nod in response.

fill out this form to join my taglist! author's note :: just a little something for fayjjuni birth week because I didn't do an event. happy birthday my darling yeonjun (and happy birthday to me<3). I hope you guys enjoy this one. also I want to disclaim: this is a rewritten version of a mingyu fic I posted a while back. I thought the idea suited yeonjun better and the fic didn't do that good anyways so I wanted to repurpose it.