#and serenades buck

[irregular-child]

my fellow 9-1-1 fans I need someone to have this knowledge as well...

we all remember the jem and the holograms movie from 2015, correct? they weren't magical girls but instead were in a band and they had to solve a mystery given to them by a robot Jem's dead dad made for her? this ringing any bells? yes, good.

so I remembered that movie and how jem had a love interest (rio) who also sang in the movie (bc this is a movie musical) and so I got curious and looked up who played him...

EDMUNDO DIAZ, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE????

[rainydayathogwarts]

Driver's seat - Steve Rogers

summary: you and steve get a little carried away in one of tony's cars wc: 1.2k+ we'll just ignore the fact that i was supposed to post this yesterday but forgot

Steve Rogers was an old soul. One who’d only been introduced to the concept of making out in front seat of a car about twenty minutes ago, but he was already converted. The roll of your hips so perfectly grinding against his while you pushed him by the chest into the driver’s seat gave Steve a total loss of control, one he could only try to maintain by taking control of the kiss. You didn’t give that to him either, teasing the supersoldier by pulling away from the kiss ever so slightly, in a way that had him lifting off the seat to chase your lips.

Steve was desperate for you, intoxicated by your taste of your lips. Every second you spent turning on the radio and finding the station you wanted felt like punishment for Steve, who could feel his cock throbbing against your cunt. He knew for a fact you could feel him suffering, but that didn’t stop the way you jumped up when a song you liked came on, putting all the pressure on Steve’s dick when you landed back on his lap. The blond whimpered, a pink tint flushing his cheeks as he hopelessly gripped your hips, trying to pull you flush on his dick.

When you finally stopped teasing him, resuming the languid movements of your rolling hips and leaning in to properly kiss Steve, he couldn’t help the moan that ripped out of his chest. You smiled against the kiss, a hand coming up to cup Steve’s jaw, encouraging him to relax and make way for your tongue in his mouth. Steve bucked his hips up into yours, muttering an apology, which was immediately swallowed into the kiss. One of Steve’s hands transported from your hip to the nape of your neck, pulling you even closer to him, and forcing the kiss deeper.

The rhythmic blues of the music acted as a template for the way to move your body against your boyfriend’s, running both your hands down his chest as the lyrics serenaded you. You separated your lips from Steve’s, mouth falling open in a pant as you tried catching your breath. Steve was quick to bring your lips back to his, tongue immediately meeting yours in an open-mouthed kiss. Between you trying to catch your breath and the supersoldier drawing your lips back together, the kiss was heating up.

Moaning quietly, you couldn’t help the way your hands scrambled to find the button of Steve’s jeans, needily attempting to undo it. Steve aided you in doing so, unzipping his trousers and giving you full access to his boxer-clad cock. You broke the kiss, looking down at the thick bulge in Steve’s boxers. You couldn’t help your bodily reaction, whimpering quietly and thrusting your hips to hump Steve’s swollen cock. Steve cried out at your movement, a hand on the back of your head driving you back into the kiss as you manoeuvred yourself out of your denim shorts, letting them hang by your ankles. “Steve.” You whined, wrapping your arms over his shoulders tightly as you ground yourself on his cock, hips relentless in their movements.

“I know baby, I know.” The man reassured, though his voice cracked half-way through his sentence, a moan breaking through. Steve’s strong grip on your hips returned, pushing you down onto him as hard as possible while he dug his feet onto the floor of the car, using it as leverage to help thrust his hips up into you. With the high-pitched moan you let out, Steve almost thought you were already cumming. But instead, you slammed your lips back onto his in a poor attempt to silence your moans.

Steve caught the opportunity to finally take control of the situation as you started humping your hips more desperately, losing some control over your movements. Steve bucked his hips up sharply, ignoring your cry of pleasure as he used the momentum to flip your positions. Without breaking the kiss, Steve reached down the side of the seat, finding the lever to push the car seat down as flat as possible. You gasped when the back of the seat fell back behind you, and Steve gently nudged your shoulders so you lay flat on it. Steve groaned softly, biting down on your bottom lip to hear your whining once more. Steve balanced himself over you with one arm, the other one grabbing your leg to tug you closer to him so he could grind his pelvis into yours.

“Spread your legs for me, darling.” He muttered into the kiss, breathing heavily as your tongue licked against his. You obeyed his plea, thighs falling further apart to make space for Steve’s large torso. The first push of his hips into yours from his new position had you immediately breaking the kiss with a gasp, back arching against the seat of the car in pleasure. “There?” Steve asked, repeating the same movement as you wordlessly hummed in agreement. “Fuck!” You cried, arms immediately latching onto Steve’s torso, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Steve continued his movements, each push of his pelvis stronger than the last, his lips finally connecting to your neck when he started grunting in pleasure once more. He didn’t want to hear his own moans, only yours. That feat was accomplished when he started sucking on the skin of your neck, causing an uncontrollable buck of your hips as you cursed, eyes shutting in satisfaction. Deciding that you needed one last push to your orgasm, Steve’s fingers dipped down the front of your underwear, causing a shudder to go through you. His fingers delved between your folds, trailing upwards to make contact with your clit. The sharp gasp that left you let him know that he found it, rubbing pressured circles down on the sensitive nub.

When you arched your back, a shiver going down your legs, Steve already knew you were cumming before you moaned “Steve! I’m gonna - fuck!” Steve pressed loving kisses on your face, continuing his movements on your clit until one of your hands was grabbing his wrist for him to stop. You panted heavily, cupping Steve’s face with one hand to pull him into a soft kiss, the other trailing down to the band of his boxers. Steve broke away from the kiss, saying “Darling, it’s oka-” But his words were interrupted by his own moan when your fingers wrapped around the leaky tip of his dick.

Both of Steve’s hands landed next to your head in order to stabilise himself, roughly clutching the fabric of the headrest as you squeezed the base of his cock. Steve was already plenty stimulated, so when you brought your second hand down to play with his sensitive tip, his hips unwillingly thrust into your hand, a spurt of cum shooting out onto your shirt as he cried out in pleasure. Steve saw white, eyes shutting as he wallowed in your words of encouragement. You continued stroking him until he rode out his orgasm, slumping against you in the car seat. Steve breathed heavily, trying to form a coherent sentence, but he gave up when he felt your fingers strewn in his hair, eyes shutting in satisfaction.

You reached past Steve’s body to crank open a window, letting the cool night air flow into the stuffy car. “Hey Steve?” You muttered, pressing a kiss on his forehead as you waited for him hum of acknowledgement. “How do we delete security footage from Tony’s car?”

[kitten4sannie]

kitten fever

pairing: cat hybrid husband! sannie x fem! reader

genre: hybrid au, smut

summary: after you put your baby to sleep and head to bed yourself, you come to the discovery that your dear husband just hit his rut and desperately wants to put another baby in you.

w.c: 2.6k

warnings: needy pussydrunk maniac! san, service sub! reader, they’re giving switch energy as well <3, san gets lost in subspace, big cawk sannie, only pet names/praise (baby, mama/mommy (only a few times trust), sweetheart, princess), san likes to be called kitty, san humps reader’s pillow out of desperation, kissing, wet and messy, possessiveness, grinding, nipple play (f/m receiving), lactation kink (muahahahaha), face sitting that turns into a 69, oral (f/m receiving), good ol fashioned unprotected missionary, heavy breeding kink, bulge kink, knotting, creampie, just so, so much cum……

a/n: i did a poll a lil while back to ask what vibe everyone wanted for sannie’s bday fic and soft, sweet love making with husband sannie won by a landslide ~~ but ofc i had to add my lil spin to it and made him a hybrid husband in heat hehe <33 i wrote this all in one go just rn bc i’m a ✨chronic procrastinator✨ so i had less time to perfect it but i hope it’s just as enjoyable as my other fics 🥹🫶🏼 that being said, enjoy lovelies~

song rec: same dream, same mind, same night by svt (this is a love making song and you cannot convince me otherwise 🙂‍↕️) - sex on fire by kings of leon - terrible love by boston manor (“tell me i’m everything you want~ tell me you need me~ give it everything you’ve got, so give it all~” <33)

“Hush, little baby, don’t you cry, mama’s gonna sing you a lullaby,” you cooed gently in a sing-song voice to the sweet angel laying still inside her crib, continuing your soft serenade until her eyes closed, surrendering to another night of much needed rest after a long day of adventure and learning, her tiny fingers slowly releasing the grip they had on one of yours, her tiny fluffy tail uncurling from your wrist. When you saw that your babygirl had fallen asleep, you gave her a loving kiss on the forehead, before exiting the bedroom and heading to your own.

It had taken a fair amount of time to get your baby to go to sleep, making you wonder if your husband had fallen asleep himself while he was waiting for you to come back. He must’ve been tired, especially after how worked up he was during the day, zooming around the house to get chores done despite there not being a rush, not even giving you the opportunity to make dinner either when he put his signature ‘kiss the cat’ apron on, and somehow still having the energy to run a few miles on his treadmill afterwards, claiming he still had the zoomies.

As soon as you cracked open the door, you could hear whimpering and soft, breathy panting coming from deeper inside the low lit room, a few candles burning away on your respective nightstands. Poor, sweet Sannie was probably having a nightmare of some sort. You would have to wake him.

“Baby, nnngh, need you, need you so bad, wanna be inside you, need to give you more kitties,” San voiced desperately to no one, hunched over and driving his heavy, leaking cock back and forth across the plush, pre-cum stained pillow that was kept on your side of the bed, his sweaty raven bangs sticking to his forehead, his tufted ears splayed out in opposite directions. He lowered his head further to take in your warm, flowery scent, letting out an instinctive growl and bucking his hips forward until he began to emit little breathy ‘ah, ah, ah’s’. He slowly dragged his throbbing cock along the feathered pillow, leaving thick, milky cum shots onto the previously pristine material. “Cummingggg, filling you up so deep, mama, it won’t stop….”

Well, it seems like you wouldn’t have to wake him. Your husband was already wide awake and seemingly trying to impregnate your pillow. You entered the room and closed the door behind you, causing San to look up at you with big boba eyes, his ears now on high alert, sheepishness overtaking his blushing features and a gentle, understanding one forming on yours. “Oh, my sweet Sannie, is this why you were so active today? Are you in a rut?”

San tried to cover up the evidence he left all over your pillow, his long fluffy tail curling shyly around one of his bare legs, his stained briefs riding up a bit near his inner thighs. “I-i didn’t wanna tell you because it’s hard for me to control myself when I’m like this…I can only think of one thing…��

You took a few steps forward until you were standing at the foot of the bed, hovering over San, your hands already making their way to his overheated face to caress it. “And what is that, kitty?”

San just about melted into your touch, his hot breath fanning over your skin when he sighed, gazing up at you past his fluttering lashes. “Breeding my beautiful wife…” he whispered softly, turning his head to press a lingering kiss into the palm of your hand. “I want to make love to you….feel and taste every single inch of you…remind you why you’re mine…” He whimpered, closing his eyes for a second, before they returned to you, his eyebrows upturned with desperation, his glistening lips parted ever so slightly. “I’m burning up just thinking about it…”

You leaned down to press a gentle kiss onto his forehead, then his cheek, leaving one on his trembling lips afterwards. “Then, what are you waiting for, Sannie? Let’s play.”

-

“Baby, your pretty kitty, mmmnn, feels so good,” San panted, breaking the heated, messy kiss you were sharing to moan from the way you were eagerly grinding yourself on his lap, his hardened cock pressing up directly into your slippery, hot cunt, a bit of drool escaping his lips, only for you to lap it up from his chin, before your tongue repeatedly swirled around his. “Wanna knot you…”

“Not yet, Sannie….wanna have more fun with you first…” When San began to whimper and squirm around, you reached past his head to grab onto the headboard with both hands, pressing your forehead to his to keep him locked in on you. “You wanna feel me all over, yeah?” You moved your hips in a more precise motion, the pronounced edge of his cockhead catching onto your clit each time your cunt dragged up and down his length, making the both of you let out a collective moan. You lifted up your body a bit so that your heavy tits were bouncing ever so slightly in his face, watching as your husband fell into a trance. “Wanna taste me too, don’t you, baby?”

“Yes, mama, wan’ it all,” San nodded drunkenly, repeatedly licking at his lips and fangs, bringing his hands up to your tits to feel the weight of them, squeezing into them slightly, his tail quickly slamming against the side of the bed as though he were a dog. He knew they were filled with milk, and it drove him absolutely nuts.

How adorable. Your kitten was too predictable. You pressed your tits together, holding them near his pretty blushing face. “Does kitty need milk?”

“Yes, please!” San opened his mouth up just in time for you to press your chest into his face, his lips closing around one of your nipples, licking and sucking at it until he began to taste the sweet essence of your milk. Deep purrs reverberated from his chest and throat, clearly content, letting go of one tit to focus on the other, pinching your nipple to watch as your milk spurted out of it and landed on his small pink tongue.

“Nnngh, that’s good, baby…” Humming, you ran your fingers through your husband’s soft hair as he gently coaxed more of the milkiness out of your tits one by one, eventually reaching down to rub your thumbs over his nipples, rolling them in circles until he began to let out muffled moans and whimpers. “Sannie’s so sensitive, hm? Even more sensitive now that he’s in a rut…so desperate for Mommy’s kitty.”

San gulped your sweetness down, a few drops dribbling down his chest, before he gasped at the sensation of you pinching his sensitive buds. “Y-yes, Sannie wants to be inside mama so bad….” He nibbled on one of your puffy nipples, dragging his rough tongue over it just to hear you whine, looking up at you to take in your suddenly submissive gaze. “My pretty girl’s sensitive too, I take it.”

“Always, because of that tongue of yours…” you murmured, digging your nails into the headboard when he forcefully pushed your tits together and ran his tongue back and forth over your nipples, biting them with his fangs for good measure.

“S-sannie…!”

When San felt a fresh wave of slick leak out onto his lap, his eyes started to narrow into slits, his instinctive urge to dominate you beginning to slip past the surface of his hazy mind. “So wet for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? It’s all going to waste too….Such a shame…”

“Wanna lick it up, kitty?” you asked sweetly, bringing your lips down to his, tasting the sweetness of your milk on his moving tongue.

“Mm. Sit on my face, princess,” he commanded in a slightly deeper tone, waiting for you to climb off of him so that he could lower himself down onto the bed. Just as you faced away from him and lifted your leg up to go over him, San grabbed you by your soft hips and pulled you down onto his face, immediately getting to work.

San dipped his tongue between your slick lips and dragged it up, painfully slow at first, so that he could savor your warm taste, licking a long stripe toward and then over your clit. He repeated this action until all that could be heard in the room was his wet tongue coming in contact with your soaking cunt, along with the groans he was letting out with each lick. Opening his eyes to admire your pretty plush pussy, he pressed a kiss onto your bud, before sucking on it with varying degrees of intensity, reveling in the way his pretty wife moaned desperately for more. “That’s it, huh, babygirl? Your pussy’s getting so messy, you must be getting close already….”

“F-fuck, yes, I’m close…don’t stop, Sannie,” you sighed out, suddenly distracted by the sight of your husband’s throbbing cock standing at full attention between his thighs. Licking at your lips, you carefully lowered yourself down until you could slurp and suck the pre-cum that pooled out of his reddened cockhead with ease, opening your mouth wide enough to take most of his cock down your throat inch by inch.

“Oh my god, baby, I won’t last if you do that….” San tossed his head back for a second, temporarily losing himself to the pleasure of having his cock buried inside the hot, wet heaven of your mouth and throat, moaning hoarsely all the while. Feeling more of your slick drip onto his heated skin, he remembered about his current mission. Once his tongue returned to your dripping slit, you started to rock your hips in time with San’s lips, your clit even bumping against your husband’s nose, your thighs beginning to tremble.

You took San’s cock down your throat as deep as it would go, using your spilling saliva to jerk off the rest of his length that you couldn’t reach with your mouth, hearing him begin to emit muffled whimpers and curses against your pulsing cunt, feeling his thighs tighten up underneath your touch.

You continued to move in sync, your hips now desperately rocking against San’s splayed out tongue, your moans playing a hypnotic rhythm. You always seemed to fall into this matching pattern of giving and receiving, losing yourselves in each other’s love and pleasure. Just as you began to squirm around, San’s hands slipped from your thighs where they were previously squeezing to your waist, wrapping them tightly around your middle to keep you still as your release poured out onto his tongue.

“Sannieeee, so good, so good, gonna cum,” you whined out once you pulled yourself off of his cock, your lips connected to the sticky tip with a few strands of milky saliva.

“Me too, baby, me too. Fuck, take it for me, okay? Be good and take it all,” San moaned against your convulsing cunt, lapping up the rest of your arousal, just as he began to shudder, forcefully tossing his head back into his pillow.

You caught the seemingly endless stream of cum on your tongue, some of it shooting into the back of your throat. You swallowed it all without hesitation, before climbing off of him and leaning down to press your lips onto his.

He eagerly kissed you back, gently lowering you down onto the mattress so that he could climb on top of you, the both of you desperately exchanging your warm arousal with one another, only breaking the dizzying kiss when neither of you could take a proper breath. “I love you, Y/N…” he whispered near your cheek.

“I love you too, San…”

Gazing deeply into your half-lidded eyes, San gently lowered his body weight onto you, not having to ask to know what you both needed when he positioned himself near your entrance and slipped right in, the both of you moaning in unison.

“Ready for my litter, baby? I’m gonna fill you up over and over, okay? I won’t stop until you tell me to…” Saliva pooled in San’s mouth as a low, deep purr rumbled inside his chest. Part human or not, your husband’s cat-like traits still made themselves present when he was sheathed inside you like this, especially now that he was in a rut.

“Yes, give it all to me, Sannie, I want your kitties,” you begged breathlessly, hardly able to think now that you were getting stretched out by your husband’s thick length, your legs hooking around his small waist once he began to recklessly drill himself into you.

“I’ll give it all to you, baby, have it all, have all of me.” Huffing and puffing, San pounded his cock into you, slipping out a few times due to how incredibly wet you were, taking the time to slap his cock down onto your abdomen, just to show the both of you how his length just about reached your ribs, watching you swallow hard, your hazy, tear filled eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“I can take it, Sannie. I can, I promise,” you reminded him gently, just as he slipped back inside you, pounding your pussy as if he had never stopped.

“Yes, you can, you’re gonna take it all, because you’re mine, mine, mine,” San groaned out near your ear like a mantra, his heavy body flush against yours, your legs hanging off of his broad shoulders, slamming his cock into you like you were just a toy, your cunt taking it like you were made specifically for him, his tail wrapped tightly around one of your ankles, almost acting as an anchor to keep the both of you from slipping out of reality.

“Yours, yours, yours…” you chanted back, your nails starting to dig and rake down his back, starting to fade away once your high rapidly took over. “Sannieeee, give me your knot, please…”

Almost as if on command, San’s knot began to form inside your cunt, stretching you out to the max. He pulled back slightly so that he could press his hands into your abdomen, feeling just how thick and heavy his cock was inside of you. “That’s my good girl…Look at you….my pretty little wife, taking all of my knot like this. It’s gonna break and your womb’s gonna be flooded with my cum, you know…You wanna get knocked up again for me, baby?”

“Mm-hmm!”

He nosed at your neck, taking in your pretty scent, whispering, “Help me breed you, baby.”

“Breed me, kitty….Make me yours forever…” You clutched your hands into his waist and pulled his hips taut to yours, your cunt clenching around his cock just as San melted into you, whispering countless promises of love, mixed with involuntary curses into your ear, the dam finally breaking.

A short, broken cry tore out of your throat as you squirted onto San’s twitching cock, endless waves of hot cum pouring out past your cervix and filling your womb up with his potent seed, rendering you vulnerable to the very real possibility of impregnation by your dear hybrid husband. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Purring, San pulled you into his arms and began to lick at the tears that had stained your flushed cheeks, grooming you in his own special way. He nuzzled into you, his tail coiling protectively around one of your wrists, his lips ghosting along your jaw, one of his twitching ears tickling your own. “We’ll have to paint our baby girl’s room half blue if we end up having a boy.”

You giggled, nuzzling into your husband’s loving touch. “Bold of you to assume we won’t have another girl.”

San smiled at you, his brown eyes sparkling with love and adoration for you. “That’s fine. I’m a girl dad, after all.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[hitomisuzuya]

scaramouche x fem!reader. fluff. scara being drunk and in love. drunk voicemails. soft scara. college au

i have aventurine smut planned, but i have wanted to write something like this for a long time. the lyrics are from somewhere only we know by keane.

scaramouche had plans to go out last night. but you didn't feel well, so you told him to go out with xiao without you. to have fun and not drink too much. he protested at first, saying "what kind of a man leaves his woman to go out when she is sick?" complete with trademark huff, and crossed arms.

scaramouche hates being without you. really, really hates it.

the next morning, feeling much better, you rolled over and grabbed your phone to check the time. you discovered you had several voicemails. you'd been so deep asleep that you didn't hear the phone ring.

they were all from scaramouche.

"fuck, you'd better be asleep, kitten," came scaramouche's very slurred voice, "i really hate the song playing. i wish you were here so my ears aren't bleeding alone. i don't know why xiao fucking loves this song. it's stupid pop crap. i miss you. fuck, i am so in love with you. you should feel my heart. it goes skip, skip when i think about you. it's kind of annoying--" end of voicemail.

he must've hit the recording limit.

"hey kitten, listen, it's a song you like. more pop crap, but the piano is kind of clutch, not gonna lie," you heard shuffling for a moment, he must've been taking his phone from his ear and holding it out so you could hear the song. after a few moments of hearing shrilled music, he must've put the phone back to his ear. "fuck what's it called again?" you heard some drunk sounding humming before the voicemail stopped.

smiling, you went onto the third voicemail. you heard somewhere only we know by keane come through the speaker again. only this time, you heard scaramouche's slurred voice singing the song to you. "i felt the earth beneath my feet. sat by the river and it made me complete. you make me feel complete."

scaramouche stumbled and hummed adorably to the part of the song he didn't know. your smile widened. "oh simppllee thing, where have you gone..yeah, kitten where are you? i miss you. i'll be he medicine that makes you feel better. fuck how does this song go?" the voicemail ended.

the fourth one immediately started with scaramouche singing, more slurred than before. you found out later from xiao that he'd fed the jukebox at the bar with 5 bucks to play somewhere only we know over and over so he could call you back to sing the parts of the song he wanted to sing to you.

"i'm getting old and i need something to rely onnnnnn. fuck hold on, i wanted to sing this part to you first..no, did you hear the made me feel complete part? you make me feel complete," you heard drinking noises and a heavy sigh.

"dude, scara, she is probably sleeping. you are going to wake her up," xiao's voice interrupted.

"fuck off, you shithead! i'm serenading my kitten! go put another dollar in the jukebox, i'm not done, she needs to hear this!" the voicemail ended.

the last voicemail started with him humming somewhere only we know. "i need something to rellyy on." at this point, he was just singing random lyrics. "wait, hold on..made me feel complete. something to rely on..xiao! xiao! these fucking lyrics, these fuckers really wrote this whole song for her," there was some shuffling noises. "xiao, we gotta go fucking kill keane!"

he was deadass convinced the band was in love with you and wrote the song for you so they could steal you away from him.

later that day, you played the voicemails for scaramouche. 'oh my god..i got so drunk last night" he said, dismayed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

"what? i thought the voicemails were sweet," you said, grinning at him. you gave him a quick kiss on his lips. "i'm keeping them." you had to say that before he asked you to delete them.

he sighed. "fine. keep them. not another soul hears them," he hissed. he was incapable of saying no to you.

[merakidoll]

nails clawing into the deep red sofa trying to get away from the large cock that fucked through your walls harshly. chants of his name could be heard, crowd waiting for their favorite performer to come out and serenade them, but unluckily for them - geto was in like with the cunt he was currently fucking to just stop. “getogetogeto just l-like uh! that bunny” he mumble chanting his name alongside with them, bucking his hips roughly making you clench, tightening around him. bitting his lips his hands pulled even tighter on the long braids that were in your head slapping your ass, and grunting loudly over your whines. “b-break! breakkkk” you cried feeling your pussy clench down without stopping a beat. you dug your teeth into the fabric of the couch, mascara tears and damp eyelash sticking together while your eyes rolled over, body convulsing as the overstimulation took over your body. “thata girl” he whispered pulling his dick out and jerking himself off over you. his long dark hair glued to his face, and smudged mascara adding on perfectly to his look. pulling the leather pants back up, heeled boots clacked against the floor, while he made his way to the loud crowd that screamed as soon as he came into view.

[fanaticsnail]

presses the +1 button for write it write it write it re: the vampire post im

🥺🥺🥺

biggest, saddest, wettest eyes pleading sldakjlkgfdjksgkl

got out of work and immediately got smacked in the face with that post im aslkdjkglfd ALSO that gif of law is 👌

@remisloves

Anything for you, Remi! I'll call it a gift exchange for you for your art of my OC, Tobiuo. I also adore that Law gif, so I'm gonna use it again! Thank you for your ask, Remi 🖤🖤

Invitation

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,500+

Synopsis: Based on vampiric folklore, a vampire may not come inside a premises without an explicit invitation. The vampire, Trafalgar D Water Law, was now left with a predicament, and you were not playing fair about it.

Themes: Vampire!Law x gn!reader, mdni, 18+, NSFW, smut, prior relationship hinted, penetrative sex (reader receiving), bratty reader, begging, pleading, crying, vampire biting - blood consumption, porn with plot, biting, edging, based on this post.

Notes: Returning to my vampire era again. Oh no. Mini part 2 here.

“Please.”

That small word was the greatest symphony to the world’s most fantastic serenade. The body between your thighs, nestled with his cock deep within your abdomen, and rhythmically bucking up with the crude slap of hips thrusting, was the vampire: Trafalgar D Water Law.

You had been friends for a while, the heart pirates stampeding onto your island and begging to port to resupply from your homeland granted your first meeting. The captain of the Polar Tang had his Were-bear speak for him, Bepo the peaceful mouthpiece for his demands while negotiating the resupply. The winged naga, Penguin, and the fey trickster, Shachi, ensured you were informed of the dire circumstances they found themselves within. Their captain had been inadvertently starved, his grip on his own sanity slipping the longer he withheld his urge to feed on a human.

He was a doctor, and a creature damned, yet deemed savior to the living. His soul was long since departed, yet here he was: stripped down to naught but his essence and begging for you from your position above him.

“No.”

That response alone had him whimpering, his eyes stinging at the corners from the creases where his lashes kissed one another. He looked up at you like you were the lifeline tethering him to the world, coinciding with his desperate bucking, had you feeling superior and empowered.

While you did grant the Polar Tang permission to dock at your port, you did not gift Trafalgar Law, the vampire, permission to come inside your body. With the ‘rules of permission’ induced in with vampiric folklore, come and cum seemed to be interchangeable.

You had been edging this vampire for almost half an hour now. The mixture of your blood from a deep bite against your jugular swirled with the lust he was burying within you. Your body homed his cock with an ease he hadn't experienced prior, and he was easily lost to the feeling of your soul entwining physically with his.

“Please,” he cried out, his cock refusing to spill while his shaft shuddered in pure need, “I-I can't. It won't. The-... Please.”

His sweet babbles falling from your lips had you cooing and preening down at the dark-haired man. His inked fingers dug into your hips dangerously hard, his restraint tested with each slide of his cock dragging into your body.

“Why won't you let me come in?”

His round, glossy eyes darted between yours as his question rang deep within your mind. No amount of vampiric hypnosis could cause a human to invite someone in, and he would never dream of such a notion. He needed you to need him, and he had never been on the precipice of desire for as long as he was with you.

Pleasure had bloomed and crested within your body twice so far, and you had enjoyed each rock and buck from the skilled vampire who coaxed them out of you. Another wave of desire simmered the longer he begged, and your eyes glazed at how easily you sucked him deep inside you. He was lost with you, his heels planted while he encouraged you to pump his cock with your entrance.

“You want to come in?” you gently cooed down at him, cupping his cool cheek beneath your palm briefly before bringing both of your hands to perch on his shoulders. “You could have pulled out at any time, vampire. What held you fixated?”

“B-Better if I-I cum while drinking from you,” he admitted, his voice catching in his throat while he fought off the fatigue marrying his withheld release. “Please let me come in. I n-need to cum, I need to cum, I need to cum-!”

The captain you once met on your shore, stoic in nature and abrasive in conversation, was begging to flood you with his cum. He needed to release deep within you, and his resolve was wearing away at the edges the longer you forbade him.

“You can hold off a while longer,” you pouted down at him, teasing him with a gentle hand tracing his pectorals towards his sensitive nipple, “Show me that vampiric resilience.”

At that coax, a deep growl erupted from his throat while he rolled you immediately beneath him. He chased his high, the sloppy and languid thrusts of his cock prompting him to whimper and whine with each steady motion. You sighed and gasped at the new angle, your voice catching and fluttering in a similar mannerism to the way your body desperately contracted in rhythmic waves clapping against his shaft.

“You want to come inside?” you gently teased him. He cried out, sobbing while nodding his head at your question. His canines retracted over his lips, his mouth parting and gently tracing over the prior bite you first allowed him to puncture and soothe on your mortal flesh.

He was so hungry when you first met him, you could barely begin to escort him to town before baring your neck out for him to feast on. The eyes sunken and drooped, the features hollowed and forlorn of the vampiric captain tugged at your heartstrings, and you allowed him to feed from you to replenish himself.

After that point, you had not once invited him back to your house, nor given him permission to come in. Both of those factors now brought you heightened joy at the control you held above his head. Although you remained friends and grew in deeper infatuation the longer he remained with you, you were yet to take him fully home.

“Please let me come in,” he whimpered in heavy gasps against your neck, his lengthy tongue expelling and flickering over your skin, “I need to cum inside you. Please? I-I need you.” You flung your arms over his shoulders and cradled him in the nook. He didn't make a move to bite down or bully you, but his moans where muffled huffs against your skin regardless.

“Please.”

You hooked your legs over his hips and interlaced your ankles behind his back, digging your heels into his cool skin and spurring him to fuck into your body harder. His desperate thrusts ran sloppy and desperate as he sobbed into your neck. Your hands traced his tattoo before digging your blunt fingertips into his muscle.

“Okay, sweetheart,” you gasped, already feeling on the precipice of another wave of pleasure crashing over you at his sweet begging and pleading.

“You can come in.”

Immediately his sloppy motions sped up, his cum flooding your body with a stream of viscous release. His teeth surged down and punctured your pulse, moaning at your essence of life as it hit his palate. Your body was no better, immediately bowing your back in a perfect arch and giving in to your third release. White split your vision, the pain from his bite dissipating as your body reached a higher realm of bliss.

His rigid body fell forward, his sobs fading into growled huffs and pants while his cock twitched akin to matching his likely initial rigor mortis. His cool skin melted against your warm torso, his ice-like tongue lapping at the wound and healing it with his saliva.

As you felt your high dissipate, you attempted to wriggle away from his embrace to look up at the vampire weighing his body heavily on you. His grip on you was strong, and he seemed far away and withdrawn in his mind while he lapped at your skin.

“Law?” you queried, attempting to nudge him away from his position nuzzled into your skin. He released a sound that was akin to a laugh before slowly withdrawing up to peer down at you. Hips began to move once more, his hard and steely cock once again hitting a spot that shot sparks up your spine and need pooling in your belly.

“You invited me to come in,” he chuckled, pressing his forehead to yours while his he fucked his exiting cum back into your body, “I'm going to use that hospitality to the fullest, and come in over and over again until I deem it appropriate to stop.”

“Law-!” Your cries fell on deaf ears as he held your hips down and rut into you. Cruel slaps echoed within the room, his prior begs turning into feral grunts at each heavy buck. You reached down in a bid to hold onto him for anchorage, an action he slapped playfully away while he continued his animalistic brutality.

“Nuh uh,” he chuckled down at you playfully, “For all that teasing you gave me earlier, I am going to get my revenge by tearing out orgasm after orgasm from you. All you gotta do is lay there and take what I'm giving to you."

Your body gave in, need again returning and flooding your veins with its reignition. Lips parting and jaw slacking, your legs hang limply over his hips and encouraged him to thrust deeper and harder. His hands move to circle your thighs tug them against him to gain leverage for his motions.

“That's it,” Law praised you with a cockiness in his tone, “You just think about what you did to bring this on. Gonna cum in you whenever I want now."

"Thank you for your invitation.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[landogalore]

I KNOW THE END

a formula one inspired mafia story:

MASTERLIST

—————————————————————————

When a tragic murder begins the outbreak of a war between powerful families occurs, a desire for revenge. But newly-formed romances also begin to thrive, some between friends, maybe even between sworn enemies.

—————————————————————————

WARNINGS: LOTS OF VIOLENCE (so be warned), death, SA, mentions of sex, drugs, etc.

this fic WILL BE ANGSTY, but i promise there’s still smut and fluff.

—————————————————————————

CAST:

THE BUTTON FAMILY:

hope fewtrell:

played by madeline argy

lando norris:

played by himself

max fewtrell:

played by himself

lena muni he:

played by olivia rodrigo

logan sargeant:

played by himself

jenson button:

played by himself

—————————————————————————

THE HAMILTON FAMILY:

sir lewis hamilton:

played by himself

emmeline hamilton-button:

played by laura harrier

————————————————————————

THE ROSBERG FAMILY:

nico rosberg:

played by himself

freja rosberg:

played by kaleen

kimi antonelli-rosberg

played by himself:

————————————————————————

THE ALONSO FAMILY:

fernando alonso:

played by himself

alejandra maddeline alonso:

played by angelina mango

————————————————————————

THE WEBBER FAMILY:

mark webber:

played by himself

oscar webber-piastri

played by himself

sydney webber:

played by rain spencer

liam lawson:

played by himself

————————————————————————

THE VETTEL FAMILY:

sebastian vettel:

played by himself

quinn ricciardo:

played by benadetta porcaroli 

daniel ricciardo:

played by himself

other side characters also included!

————————————————————————

DOOMSDAY.

date: 13th february 2024 || time: 11:31pm

‘Joder, hermosa.’ The man groaned, the tight sensation against his cock causing his muscles to tremble, bucking his hips in a stable rhythm. ‘You feel increíble around me.’

‘Getting so close, Nando.’ She whined, her fingers gripping his ruffled hair with more force, trying to bring more pleasure to her body; enough to let the sensations consume her.

‘Mmm, Mads.’ He hummed at the tugging of her hands, pressing their frames closer, the woman almost able to feel the warm breath that escaped his lips, panting heavily with both lust and exhaustion.

‘I love you so much, Fernando.’ Her mouth moves towards his ears, whispering serenades of praises, the few words sounding like music to him, able to listen to her soft mumbles for eternity.

‘I love you too, mi vida.’ He chuckles, both of them now relaxing after the sheer adrenaline that pumped through the couple’s veins as they reached their highs. ‘Don’t know how I’d survive without you.’

‘I’m not leaving, not just yet.’ Maddeline giggles, nuzzling her now marked neck into his bare chest, allowing her muscles to rest after the romantic session, smiling at the heat that radiated from his skin.

As the two eventually began to drift off into a tranquil state, the sudden blare of sirens started to surround the once calm environment, immediately creating a sense of danger.

‘What was that?’ Her eyes blurted open, alarmed by the loud noise ringing in her ears, concerned about what was happening.

‘Don’t worry, cariño. You stay here, I’ll sort it out.’ Her husband reassured, planting a soft kiss on her forehead to promise their safety, the man climbing out of bed to wear something appropriate for the serious situation occuring.

Desperate to sort the issue so he could go back to his wife, Fernando slams the door open, marching down the elegant hallways as if he was on a mission, phone firmly gripped in his fingertips. ‘Carlos, get ready. Business to attend to.’ He declared, gaining as many forces as possible. The alarms were only triggered by something drastic, but Maddeline didn’t need to know that.

The angered man continued storming through the house, the device originally grasped replaced for a gun, loaded and prepared to fire if necessary.

‘Ready?’ Fernando makes his way to the entrance, added forces waiting for him to announce the attack on the intruders outside.

‘We’re ready, jefe.’ Carlos replied, weapon firmly gripped in his palms, holding it up towards his eye, able to get a perfect shot if bullets immediately began firing.

The blinding headlights shone as they exited the house, blocking the view of who was actually there unless they approached further.

‘Fernando Alonso.’ A somewhat familiar voice spoke, a stern tone prominent in his voice, whoever it was here was for business purposes only.

‘I’d recognise that Australian accent from anywhere, you’re one of Webbers.’ The group moved cautiously, trying to see the faces that they could only perceive through their speech.

Adjusting to the harsh light, a younger, brunette man leaned on his car, practically staring down the boss in the centre, un-phased by who he was sending daggers towards.

‘Oscar Webber-Piastri.’ Fernando eventually recognised him, unable to not remember the same sarcastic and unbothered personality the boy seemed to cherish. ‘Where’s your daddy?’ He asked, the delightful presence of his father sadly not present in this feud.

‘My dad is not here, sorting out other important duties, you know, actual necessities.’ Oscar huffed, annoyed at the older man’s childish remark, despite being 23.

‘So what are you doing here? Daddy send you to do his dirty business?’ He snickered back, maybe if he could get into the fragile boy’s mind he would be less defensive when the weapons began firing.

‘No, my dad sent me to cause some damage.’ Still emphasising that Mark was not his ‘daddy’, the enemy smiled, a wicked glint in his supposed innocent-appearing eyes.

‘Then what are you waiting for, huh?’ Fernando teased, waiting for the boy to actually make a move instead of standing there and attempting to intimidate him. ‘Do you even know how to use that little toy you like to call a gun-’

*BANG*

‘CHECO!’ The loud screams of Alejandra’s filled the atmosphere as the bullet ripped through the man’s skull, the explosion sending blood everywhere as he fell dramatically to the floor.

‘Told you I knew how to use it, old man.’ Oscar smirked, proud of his accomplishment. ‘I said I was here to cause damage, and I think I’ve already caused a bit of commotion.’

‘Fuck you, you’re asking for it now, cabrón.’ The man seethed, anger fuelling his muscles as his arms jerked up, pressing the trigger on the pistol, beginning the shower of gunfire.

Bullets flew across the two groups, most hiding behind any shelter they could discover to protect themselves, not wanting their last moment to be this very scene.

‘Shit.’ Alejandra cursed, the soaring metal basically skimming her body as she ducked behind one of the cars, scouring the surroundings every so often to check if any enemies could be nearby.

‘Looking for me, darling?’ The voice boomed, the girl’s eyes widening in fear as she recognised the same Australian accent that made people shiver, the person who just murdered one of her father’s loyal workers in cold blood, unable to show a slight indication of remorse.

‘You gonna shoot me too, Piastri?’ She challenged, anger clearly prominent in her voice as she glared at the armed man.

‘Maybe.’ Oscar debated, moving the gun closer to the girl, aiming directly at her forehead.

‘You shoot me and I’ll shoot you. Seems pretty fair.’ The woman added, similarly moving her weapon to a vulnerable area, one click and he would drop dead. ‘You’re not going to, are you? You won’t as much as you might want to.’ Alejandra continued to tease, inheriting the same manipulative skills as her father.

‘Don’t worry, I will eventually.’ His eyes squint, rage consuming his pupils, visibly angered by her attitude that she couldn’t help but smirk at the effect she had on the boy.

*BANG*

All heads swiftly turned to the slamming of the entrance door, an older man storming out.

‘Mark Webber.’ Fernando remained shocked, wondering how weak his security must’ve been to allow the mafia boss to waltz into his home so easily. The house where his wife is sleeping peacefully.

‘Fernando Alonso, it’s been a while.’ Mark greeted, being a long time since he paid the Spaniard a very welcoming visit. ‘Sadly I can’t stay long, my work here is done.’ He almost pouts at the situation, heading back towards the cars. ‘Oscar, come on.’

‘You got lucky, darling.’ He removed the weapon from her head, appearing dissapointed that he was not able to cause any more wreckage.

‘Your wife says hello.’ Mark snickered as he entered the parked vehicle, and that was finally the breaking point.

‘MADDELINE!’ The husband’s voice echoed around the house, desperate for some sort of signal that she was safe, and that all that Mark had spoke was just some scare to make the man weak.

But that theory all came crashing down when he walked into the bedroom. There she lay, once sleeping peacefully for the night. Now resting forever in a pool of her own crimson fluids.

‘Máma?’ Alejandra peeked through before immediately turning away, a slight sickening taste building up in her throat. Usually it would not phase her, but seeing her own mother in that state broke her.

‘Hey, come here tesoro.’ Carlos comforted, wrapping his arms around her as she dipped her head in his chest, allowing the tears to flow down her face, attempting to block out the scene before her.

‘Don’t worry mi vida.’ Fernando was overwhelmed by the crushing feeling of grief in his heart, but it was slowly developing to an enraged desire.

‘I’ll get my revenge for you.’

—————————————————————————

HOPE YOU ENJOY! <3

[clipboardbuckdiaz]

Have you ever wanted to read a buddie fic where one/both of them are famous? WELL I HAVE SOME RECOMMENDATIONS FOR YOU!!:

a bleeding sun on a silver screen: This is an AU where theyre both actors and OH MY GOD IT IS SO GOOD!!! (Fun fact: its actually one of the first buddie fics I read)

drench yourself in words unspoken: This is an AU where Eddie is secretly a best-selling romance author. Its super good and I highly recommend it!

scenes & serenades: This is an AU where Buck is an actor and Eddie is a singer, and they are forced to fake date by their management teams. I just read this a few days ago it is AMAZINGGG!! It has lowkey been on my mind ever since

he never thinks of me (except when i'm on TV): this is an AU where they were originally best friends in highschool, but now Buck is an actor and Eddie is still in the army. It is very awesome sauce

Falling Slowly; Sing Your Melody (I’ll Sing It Loud): This is an AU where Buck is a singer for a band and Eddie is his bodyguard. It is really good and very much reminds me of my wattpadd days

Moment by Moment: This is an AU where Buck is a photographer and Eddie is a model. Its sosososo gooddd

[kittysarchive]

Under the camera, Jay

Quietly walking through the room, Jay watched your every move. Being on a live, with fans eagerly watching him, it was hard to hide the growing bulge in his pants as you stripped of your shirt.

The staff trusting him to be on his own live, you had come to tease him, and it worked. Sitting up, moving closer to the camera, Jay tried to hide his bulge.

"Favourite colour? I think you all know" He laughed, eyes turning away as you stood in your bra, smiling teasingly. Walking closer to his tensed frame, you went on your knees, hiding yourself under the camera.

Jay looked at you, surprised, he knew what you were trying to do. Not stopping you, he continued to talk to his fans, laughing, he hid the sound of his zipper coming undone.

"So if I had my guitar here I would serenade to you" He casually continued his conversation, feeling your hands pull down his pants. Moving away from the camera, he whispered to you.

"What are you doing?" He quietly whispered, hoping the camera didn't pick it up, smiling snugly, you tugged at his boxers.

"Don't make a sound" You mouthed to him. Face going red, he leaned back, reading his fans comments as you slid down his boxers. Han quickly covering his moans, you sucked on his tip.

"Calm down the comments" Jay laughed, feeling you take more of his length, bucking his hips into you constricting mouth, he let a moan slip.

"I thought I saw a spider. Does anyone own any spiders......really?" Jay spoke, avoiding numerous questions.

jay_simpy- did he moan? sweenytodd9- he's bucking his hips up jung1_en- did he have a boner before

"I think I'll be going now, by Engenes, love you all!" Jay smiled to the camera, logging off. Wasting no time, he bucked his hips into your needy mouth, forcing you to gag over his cock.

"Fucking teasing me" He whined out, grabbing your hair, shoving you further down his member. Your gags were music to his ears. Pulling you off his cock, he calmed himself down, stroking his own member.

"Please don't tease" He whined out, watching you cheekily lip you lips, eager to dig in again.

[alchemistc]

Drunk handsy Tommy who wraps his whole ass arm around Buck's neck to tug him closer, who tilts his head to press his ear to Buck's mouth so he can hear him over the crowd singing along to Little Lion Man in a pub at one in the morning, who pulls back to serenade Buck once they get past the 'ah's, scream singing while Buck mouths along back at him. Drunk handsy Tommy's arm slipping out from around Buck's neck so that he can cradle Buck's head, keeping a point of contact when Eddie leans back to shout-talk to Tommy about something real quick. Drunk handsy Tommy tipping back into Buck, using the hand on the back of his head to guide Buck's face into his neck so he can whisper something absolutely filthy into his ear that Eddie is just glad it's too loud in this bar to hear.

Drunk handsy Tommy smiling so wide at Buck, and Buck smiling back at him, and both of them shouting along to the last lines of the song while Eddie watches them with a grin.

Anyway. Drunk handsy Tommy, that is all.

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: What started as a quest to prove Eddie's 'manhood' ended with a gesture that had you hurtling towards your future--ready or not. (5.4k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, lots of bees, mention of parental illness, brief mention of sex work, finally some actual physical contact between them, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter five: float like a butterfly

For the first time since you’d started working nights, you didn’t dread the sound of your alarm ringing. You’d always appreciated its stillness, with only city noises and the occasional guest puncturing the perfect silence. There were some nights where you didn’t speak a word for the full eight hours of your shift; you just read or wrote or daydreamed until the clock struck six.

Except for last night, of course, when you’d passed the time by talking with Eddie and minimally contributed to wallpaper removal. Your mind flickered back to the way he’d placed his hand on yours. The sensation of his palm, calloused but warm, lingering a beat longer than necessary. 

The whole moment could have been deemed unnecessary, in theory. Surely he could have modeled the action on his own and then handed you the tool so you could imitate him. Was it truly to show you how to scrape off glue, or did he have a more gratuitous intention?

Shaking your head, you eschewed the idea almost as quickly as you’d considered it. He was just being polite, a rarity among most of your male guests. Maybe that's why you were so hyper-focused on it; years of clipped conversations and crude comments had you mistaking kindness for something more flirtatious.

Speak of the Devil…

Eddie stood in the lobby, his guitar case slung across his back. He kept one elbow perched on the desk as he spoke to your mom. Whatever he said was making her laugh, a genuine one that brought a light to her eyes. She noticed you first, and when she waved you over, Eddie turned around to see what caught her attention. His smile shifted from open-mouth to close-lipped, more thoughtful and discreet without losing any of its charm.

Slinging your bag off of your shoulder next to the desk, you feigned a casual demeanor and asked, “What did I miss? Serenading my mom?” You nodded towards the guitar case, biting back a smile.

Eddie shook his head, his curls falling in his face. “Tried to make a couple bucks down at the subway station.” He shrugged, shoving his hand in his pocket. “Not enough for a ticket home, but it’s a start.”

Home. Obviously he was going home. New York had nothing for him, had chewed him up and spit him out like he left a bitter taste in its mouth. He had no reason to stay.

Oblivious to your disappointment, Mom laughed again. “Mr. Munson–”

“Eddie. Mr. Munson is my uncle.��

“Eddie,” Mom quickly amended, “was just telling me about the time he ripped his pants while he was on stage.” 

Rosy red seeped into Eddie’s cheeks, evidently not expecting your mom to share that information with you. “And that was the last time I wore leather pants,” he said. “Lesson learned.”

Deeming this conclusion insufficient, you inquired further. “How exactly does one rip leather pants?” You stifled a giggle, just imagining him feeling a sudden breeze mid-concert.

“Well, ya see,” he started, crossing his arms over his faded Metallica t-shirt and smirking, “I’m what’s known as an enthusiastic performer. And as such, one might find that leather can be quite restricting.”

“So…you got really sweaty and they ripped.”

Eddie hid his face behind a curtain of curls, all but confirming your suspicions. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Heiress,” he warned with a smile, cocking his pointer finger in your direction.

Mom took that as her cue to leave, quickly clasping your hand and excusing herself. Thick tension set in without her there as a buffer. Her presence prevented any conversation from dipping too deep into flirtation; now, there was nothing stopping it. 

Except, of course, the looming fact that he was a guest. And like all guests, he was a temporary fixture in your life. 

“The new wallpaper didn’t come in yet,” you blurted out. Dad had insisted on ordering it from a family friend, saving money but forgoing the promises of timely delivery afforded by bigger suppliers. 

Eddie shrugged, unbothered by the information. “I know.” He placed a cigarette between his lips and held out the pack in offering, but you shook your head. Without missing a beat, he put his own cigarette back and returned the box to his pocket. “Your mom was saying how excited she is for you to finish your classes and take over the motel.”

Panic flooded your lungs and constricted your breathing at the potential crisis he might have inadvertently caused. Did Mom seem upset? Her usual signs were noticeably absent: narrowed eyes, set jaw, lips painfully taut in a silent roar: we’ll discuss this later. 

There was none of that. She was laughing. Happy. Not a hint of disappointment. Yet anxiety still hooked its claws into your skin, a stinging reminder of the anvil dangling over your head. 

“You didn’t say—”

“Not a word.” Eddie waved away the thought. “Just smiled and nodded.”

Your chest went concave with relief, and you had to stop yourself from reaching out and pulling him into a hug. His arms held a surprising strength, as evidenced by his wallpaper removal abilities, and you wondered how they would feel wrapped around your waist. Did he hug tightly, not letting go until all of the air had been squeezed from your lungs? Or did he prefer a softer, lazier embrace, one with a hand free to stroke up and down your back?

Why did it matter?

“Is there a reason you haven’t told them?” he asked. The sound of his voice invaded your senses, pulling you back to reality in an instant. “I mean, they seem nice enough.”

Stooping down to grab your notebook, you nodded in agreement. “That’s part of the problem, I guess.” Your teeth scraped along your tongue as you considered your words. “If they were shitty, I wouldn’t feel so bad about letting them down.”

“Letting them down?”

You nodded, feeling that familiar pit that formed in your stomach whenever this subject arose. “Yeah. I can’t be a social worker and run the motel. And if I don’t stick around, they’ll have to close this place for good.”

Eddie breathes out with a low whistle. “Pretty high stakes.”

“You can say that again.” Resting your elbows on the desk, you buried your head in your hands. “How did your parents react when you told them you wanted to be a rockstar?” you asked, your voice slightly muffled. 

He took so long to respond that you looked up, wondering if he’d up and left while you weren’t watching. 

“My dad’s, um, not in the picture, and my mom died when I was a kid,” he finally said, using his left thumbnail to pick at the right. 

“I’m sorry.” And you were: for his loss and for prying into his history. Mortification bloomed and prickled sweat under your arms, and you clenched them to your sides in a feeble attempt to hide any forming stains.

“S’okay. I mean, you didn’t know, so…” his shoulders moved up and down, his mouth drawn into a forgiving half-smile, “now you know.”

Now you know. A little slice of him, presented to you like one of the cakes the local bakery kept locked behind a pane of refrigerated glass. The ones you admired as a kid, reveling in their perfectly smooth icing and intricately piped pastel flowers. They’d always seemed too delicate to touch, so you’d skipped over them in favor of sprinkle-laden cookies.

Logically, you know that the cakes were made for consumption. All you needed to do was ask for a taste. But you could never bring yourself to ruin their beauty. Not then, and not now.

And so, as always, you stepped away and chose the easier path instead.   

“Did you really rip your pants on stage?”

Eddie’s nose wrinkled at the sudden subject change, but he recovered quickly. “Sure did. Split right down the seam.” He puffed out a short laugh through his nose. “Poor Gareth got an eyeful that night.”

“Are you sure that isn’t the real reason you left the band?” Picking up the nearest pen, you poked the capped end into his forearm. 

He play-winced, rubbing the spot the cap touched, and shook his head. “Nah, this was my high school band. Corroded Coffin.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“Oh, yeah. We were terrifying.” Eddie widened his eyes in mock-horror. “The backbone of Indiana’s satanic panic, actually.”

You raised your brows. “Impressive.”

“Mhm. We only broke up because our bassist went to college out of state. Princeton.” He lowered his voice at the name as though relaying confidential information. 

“Not the Ivy Leagues!” You pressed your hand to your heart, clutching metaphorical pearls. 

Eddie grimaced. “I’m afraid so.”

“I’ve heard Princeton is known for their demonic studies program, so that tracks.”

This is nice. This is easy. No mention of schoolwork, or the motel, or parents—or lack thereof. You could do this all night. 

A throat clearing followed by a hacking cough took you both by surprise. Peering over Eddie’s shoulder, you found Phyllis standing in the lobby doorway. 

“There’s a wasp nest outside my window,” she said, tugging up one drooping shirt sleeve. The odor of stale cigarettes grew stronger as she walked closer to you and Eddie; even if she quit smoking today, the pungency would always cling to her. 

Uncapping your pen, you reached into the desk drawer and grabbed the stack of Post-Its. “I’ll make a note to get some insecticide spray tomorrow,” you promised, poorly curbing your exasperation. 

If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. 

The older woman didn’t put up any argument, but Eddie was obviously displeased. “Like hell you will.” He glanced around, pent-up energy overflowing as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “You got a baseball bat around here?”

Your “Uh, no,” overlapped with Phyllis’s nonchalant, “Yeah, of course,” and she left to fetch it.

A sigh escaped you, hinting at your mounting irritation. “Eddie, absolutely not,” you insisted. “Just wait till I get the spray and you can do it then.”

He clicked his tongue with a note of condescension that you didn’t particularly appreciate. “Don’t worry about it, Heiress. I’m from the Midwest; our wasps are like your rats. This’ll be nothing.” When you remained unconvinced, he adopted a teasing grin. “I don’t tell you how to do your nerd stuff, do I? So leave me to my man stuff in peace.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva. “Your man stuff?”

“Yes. Very strong and burly.” He flexed a bicep for emphasis and you threw your hands up in defeat, trying to ignore the soft fluttering in your stomach at the vein bulging through his skin.

Phyllis returned with the bat, the wooden neck clenched between arthritic fingers. “It’s right around the side,” she told Eddie. “Just look for the giant nest. And don’t forget to give this back when you’re done; I’m working tonight.” She thrust the bat into Eddie’s hand and padded back to her room, slippers thwacking against the linoleum. 

Eddie twirled the bat, threading it through his fingers and catching it smoothly. He smiled, unable to camouflage his pride. “See? I got this.” His grasp was determined without a hint of tenderness, a stark contrast to the way he’d held your hand the night prior. Tucking it underneath a denim-clad arm, he took a deep breath and pushed through the front door like he was preparing for battle.

You watched him leave, shaking your head. Evidently, he had a point to prove, but you doubted the chances of his success. Part of you wished you could leave the desk to watch him in action. Another part was relieved that you had the excuse to avoid witnessing this disaster as it unfolded.

As you predicted, not even half a minute had passed before you heard Eddie yelping, his footsteps thudding towards the motel’s entrance. He flung the door open with enough force that it smacked against the wall, scrambling to slam it shut behind him. His chest heaved under his jacket as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” He swatted around his head at some lingering wasps. “Son of a bitch!”  

Sucking your tongue to your front teeth, you bit back an I-told-you-so. “How’s your ‘manhood’ or whatever?” 

Maybe that wasn’t much better than outright gloating, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

Eddie made a closed fist with only his middle finger sticking up, and he winced almost immediately. “I think one of those little fuckers got me.” He cradled one hand in the other as you walked towards him for a closer inspection. 

Sure enough, a stinger was poking out from the side of his forefinger.

Phyllis came shuffling back from her room, pink lipsticked mouth pursed in concern. “Jesus, kid. Were you trying to piss them off?” The loose skin under her neck wobbled when she chortled. “You swung at that nest like you were Babe Ruth!”

Through a tense smile, you asked her to get a soapy washcloth so you could clean out the wound before it could spark an allergic reaction. “Unless, of course, that interferes with your man stuff,” you said to Eddie, all-too happy to throw his words back in his face.

“Fuck off.” A traitorous chuckle broke through his stoic exterior despite his very real pain. His eyes followed your movements as you grabbed the first aid kit.

You took his warm palm in yours, gently turning it to assess the afflicted finger. The stinger was lodged under his skin, already turning the surrounding area an angry red. 

“Oof, he really stung you good, huh?” Your tone was all sympathy; you figured he’d gotten enough jabs from the wasps. 

Eddie gritted his teeth as you gingerly scraped at the stinger with the edge of your notebook, taking care not to squeeze out any of the venom. You tightened your grip to keep his hand in place, feeling the soft but steady thrum of his heartbeat between his wrist and his thumb’s tendon. It had a melody of its own. 

Slowly, meticulously, you eased the stinger out from where it was wedged.

“Sorry,” you said softly, noting the way his eyes clamped shut as you drew out the stinger and brushed it onto the desk. 

“S’okay.” He managed a small smile, one you returned without hesitation.

The night was still for a moment before he spoke again, his voice soft but eager. 

“Tell me more about Izzy.”

Apparently, you weren’t the only one with a penchant for rapid subject changes. 

At once, your head was filled with memories of her: the pigtails held in place with thick rubber bands, the popsicle juice-stained pink t-shirt, the giggles that melted away your stress from a succession of ungrateful customers. He said something else, but you were too engrossed in your own thoughts for the words to register. 

“Hmm?”

“The little girl you helped.” Eddie cocked a quizzical brow, suddenly worried that he’d remembered incorrectly. “That was her name, right?”

You nodded. “She was only there that one day. I didn’t see her again.”

Her mother was probably too embarrassed to stay any longer and found another motel. If you could go back in time, you would have reassured her, maybe even offered to watch after Izzy while she worked. You might have informed her of programs where she could find a job that didn’t put her or Izzy in harm’s way. 

Eddie continued talking, for some reason persistent in his quest for answers. “But you said she talked to you while she was drawing. About her favorite stuff?”

Phyllis returned with cloth before you could answer him, and she rested it on the desk with a sigh. “I’m gonna head out,” she said, pointing at Eddie, “but my bat better be in my room before I get back, Yogi Berra.”

He nodded, absently massaging the nape of his neck. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” One burgundy-painted fingertip pointed at Eddie, then at you. “I like this kid.”

How do you even respond to that? An honest, ‘me, too’? An overly sarcastic, ‘he’s alright’? 

You opted for a small, unassuming smile and the reminder to be safe, which was absurd when you really thought about it. Phyllis had been doing this, as she put it, “since my tits were above my belly button,” yet you were telling her about safety. 

Bringing your attention back to the sting, you clutched the sopping wet washcloth. Phyllis apparently hadn’t wrung it out; water dripped down the side of your fingers and splashed onto the floor in an uneven plop-plop-plop. 

With an abundance of care, you swiped the cloth over the sting site. It was already starting to swell, the skin raised and angry. 

Eddie reflexively pulled away, the tension evident from the way his front teeth formed grooves in his lower lip. 

“Fuck, that hurts.” His free fist pounded into the desktop with so much force that, for a split second, you worried that he might leave a dent. 

“I know, but we have to clean it out,” you said. 

He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath; you weren't sure you even wanted to know what he said. “Yeah, yeah.” He winced as the frayed fibers grazed him again. “So…Izzy?”

“There isn’t much to say,” you answer honestly. “I mean, she just told me she loved McDonalds french fries and Muppet Babies. Especially baby Fozzie Bear.”

“Anything else?”

You thought back for a moment. “Her favorite animal was dogs, but only the little ones. She said the big ones scared her because they barked too loud. Oh, and her favorite color was light purple.”

The memory is bittersweet, bathing you in both comfort and a dull ache. It was almost six years ago but the little girl had made herself at home in your mind. You thought about her on a daily basis, wondering if she and her mom were still bouncing from motel to motel, or if they’d found a permanent place to settle. Every ounce of optimism you possessed worked to help you believe that they were safe and that she didn’t remember when safety wasn’t guaranteed.

“I knew it.”

You looked up from applying calamine lotion, dabbing the pink-stained cotton ball over any excess dripping off of his finger. “Knew what?” 

“I knew you’d remember everything she told you.” His thumb relaxed and fluttered down until it rested on yours, the pad of his finger on your knuckle.

You reached for a Band-Aid before realizing that opening it required two hands. With more hesitation that you anticipated, you let go of him. “And what makes you say that?” You wrapped the bandage around his finger, careful not to press too tightly around the sting. “There. Good as new.”

Eddie smiled his appreciation. “I, um, had a similar experience when I was a kid.” He swallowed, picking at the Band-Aid until the adhesive side began to bunch up. When he allowed himself to glance at you, he saw you looking back at him, silently encouraging him to tell his story. 

“My mom got sick when I was in kindergarten. The treatment made her tired and nauseous, like, all the time; when she wasn’t sleeping, she was throwing up.” His eyes clouded over and his voice cracked slightly; he cleared his throat and continued. “I was at school one day, and the social worker asked me if I had anyone at home who washed my clothes for me. And when I told her no, she asked me to bring any clothes I needed cleaned with me the next day. So I did, and after school let out, she took me to the Laundromat.” 

If you told him that he didn’t have to keep talking, he'd stop. He’d wipe away any residual tears and excuse himself, and you’d once again spend your shift alone. And so you didn’t say anything, just stood there as his gears turned in recollection.

“She had this game: she’d hold up a piece of clothing and ask if it goes in the ‘lights’ or ‘darks’ pile, and she would get faster and faster until I was laughing too hard to answer.” Eddie exhaled a short laugh and swiped his tongue over his top teeth. “The whole time, I’m thinking that it’s all fun, that this is a normal thing that every kid did. I didn’t realize until years later that it was because my clothes smelled, y’know?” 

Sheepishness colored Eddie’s face in pink splotches as he shifted from man to boy and then back again. 

“Anyway, your story about Izzy kinda reminded me of that. And she might not remember your name or even what you talked about, but she’ll remember someone being there for her. Someone who didn’t act like she was a bother or a charity case. Just a kid who wanted to play.”

His words left you without any of your own. There was so much to digest; chiefly, your newfound glimpse into Eddie’s past. And though you’d only ever known him as an adult, you were still picturing him as a child. He sat atop a counter where others folded their clothes, his brown eyes–looking even bigger than they did presently, given his small stature–gazing up at the woman in wonderment as he giddily sorted his laundry. 

And then, of course, there was the delicately embedded compliment. The reassurance that you had been a positive force in Izzy’s life, even through one brief encounter. 

It was the only part that you could elaborate on without intruding on his privacy. He’d shared something so personal, and while you were desperate to learn more about him, you didn’t want to barge past the boundaries he had so carefully constructed.  

“Yeah, I…just wanted her to feel safe, I guess.” You’d devised a plan while you drew flowers and Care Bears in case no one showed up to find her. Everything had to be done so that she remained in the dark about the situation’s severity; you’d have Mom or Dad check the room, only calling the authorities if Izzy’s mom was unresponsive—or worse. 

In the end, there was no need for you to worry. Her mother was alert and Izzy herself was none the wiser that anything was wrong. You hadn’t even told your parents about the situation despite their potential involvement. Eddie, of all people, was the only other person who knew. 

He nodded and reached over, giving your hand a subtle, tender squeeze. 

“You did.”

Reassurance drifted through the air and clung to you like the sharp scent of tobacco on his jacket. Receiving compliments wasn’t your strongest suit, so you pivoted topics to avoid stretching the ensuing awkward silence any further. 

“The calamine lotion should help with the itching, but you can take some Benadryl if it’s still bad.” Rummaging through the first aid kit, you searched for the medication but only managed to scrounge up a bottle of expired ibuprofen. “There’s a pharmacy a few blocks down. They’ll have some there.” A little mom and pop shop that sold candy and cheap wine in addition to different over-the-counter medicines, it had been a community staple since before you were born.

The corners of Eddie’s eyes crinkled, lips turning upwards in amusement. “An heiress, a social worker, and a nurse? What can’t you do?”

That was a loaded question, and you were relieved that it was rhetorical so you wouldn’t have to list all of your shortcomings. You settled for flipping him off with an accompanying smile of your own.

“I should probably get that bat before she gets back,” he said, glancing towards the older woman’s room. He lowered his voice and continued. “She kinda scares me.”

“Oh, I definitely would not get on her bad side,” you agreed. “Phyllis’s wrath will make that wasp sting feel like a walk in the park.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” His laugh was music that stirred up a desire to dance, to be carried by the melody like a strong gust of wind, and then he was out the door.

Immediately, you were inclined to find something new to talk about when he walked back in. You’d had two days of companionship and had been spoiled by it; the thought of another night in solitude suddenly seemed lonely.

You couldn’t ask about his parents or the social worker who’d taken him to the Laundromat; that was too personal, too soon. Same with his old band. But music–his favorite songs, musicians, albums–that might be safe enough to explore.

The door opened and brought with it a cool evening breeze. Eddie returned much more confidently than he had the last time, Phyllis’s bat slung over his shoulder. 

“Apparently, I actually managed to knock the nest down,” he reported, sounding as surprised as you felt. 

He stifled a yawn, denim creasing at the elbow when he lifted his hand to cover his mouth. It was then that you noticed the way sleep tugged at his eyelids, dashing any remaining hope of having a conversational partner this evening. Asking him to stay awake for you was just selfish. 

“I’ll see you around, Heiress. Let me know if there’s any more man stuff you need from me.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk twice in quick succession and started towards his room. 

“Night, Eddie.”

Opportunity slipped through your fingers as he walked away, the sound of his footsteps eventually too muted to hear. You shoved your disappointment beneath the surface. Eddie wasn’t your friend; he was a guest who happened to be friendly. Asking him to stick around and chat would be unprofessional. 

If he happened to stop by the desk while you worked, you could make small talk. Otherwise, it would be business as usual. 

Minutes were hours and hours were days. Another trucker needed a room for the night, and you checked him in around four o’clock. 

You thought about the certainty in Eddie’s assurance that Izzy had felt safe with you. He didn’t know her; he barely knew you, and he wasn’t even there when it all happened. Yet his approval illuminated from the inside out and you replay it over and over. 

You did. You did. You did. 

Izzy was safe with you and she knew it. If you swallowed your fears and forged your own path, you could help other kids just like her. But it would come at a steep cost unless your parents could somehow miraculously afford to hire a new employee.

Your stomach turns just imagining the motel’s windows shuttered, a For Sale sign propped up in the door, ready to be snapped up by a major hotel chain for a mediocre sum that would barely pay off the overdue bills. It haunted you.

How long could you do this? How long could you push off your own dreams in favor of your parents’? At what point did you cross that fine line between selflessness and martyrdom?

Exhaustion crushed your body, strong enough to overpower the churning anxiety. Still, your sleep was fitful, and you woke up before your alarm feeling wholly unrested. Achiness radiated through your bones as you dragged yourself out of bed.

You knew what you had to do.

Dad noticed your earlier departure, so used to you leaving at 1:45 every day like clockwork. His brows pinched with perplexity as he determined whether he’d forgotten about a change in your schedule.

“Just running an errand before class.”

His confusion faded, replaced with a grin. “Thought I was losing my mind.” The way he stood under the lighting accentuated the gray flecks in his hair and mustache and solidified that he was, in fact, aging. His eventual retirement loomed closer, more of a when than an if with each passing day.

“Can’t lose what you never had,” you teased weakly. Dad met your joke with a wink; if he had picked up on the falter in your voice, he was gracious enough to ignore it.

You took a slight deviation from your usual route, walking past the bus stop and turning the corner until you reached the mailbox. It beckoned you, taunted you, sneered at your cowardice. The stamped envelope mocked you tenfold; innocuous on the surface but held the weight of betrayal.

It contained your admissions letter to NYU with the “accept” box marked and a deposit check that nearly drained your savings, ready to go.

The mailbox hinge creaked open so loudly that it seemed to echo. All you had to do was drop the envelope down the chute and pray that you made the right choice.

Regret surged through your veins the moment the envelope left your fingertips. You acted on instinct, shoving your hand back down the box to reclaim your letter, but you knew it was a fruitless effort before you’d even failed. It was already lost in a sea of bills and birthday cards. 

“Shit!” Yanking your arm out before someone accused you of mail theft, you tilted your head back in an attempt to stop the impending tears.

With one stupid decision, you’d heaved a shovel into the dirt and begun digging a grave for the family business.

What the hell were you thinking? 

As though it had a mind of its own, your foot swung out and smacked against the tin drum with all of your might. It took a beat for the pain to hit, the throbbing in your toes matching the reverberating metal.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You didn’t care who saw, who heard. Anger and self-loathing bubbled over like boiling water and scalded you in shame. Everything was so far out of your control, and you couldn’t rein it in. The world kept spinning fast, faster, too fast—

“Kicking it won’t make the mailman show up, y’know. ‘S not like rubbing a genie’s lamp.” 

Eddie stood on the other side of the mailbox. A plastic bag dangled from his hand, the box of drugstore brand antihistamine peeking through its translucence. His playfulness morphed into concern when he noted your dewy lashes. “Heiress? You okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” You swiped at your cheeks and sniffed back the mucus that collected in your nostrils. You probably should have been embarrassed that he’d caught you in such a state of distress; maybe you would be once the dust settled. 

He wrinkled his nose dubiously. You couldn’t blame him; why would he be convinced when you were assaulting mailboxes and swearing at the air?

“Seriously. Just having a bad day.” And it was going to get even worse if you missed your bus—again. “Thanks for asking, though.” You managed a grateful smile to prove your sincerity.

Grabbing your backpack from its spot on the ground, you zipped it back up and hoisted it over your shoulder before starting back towards the stop. 

“Hey, wait a sec.” Eddie called out to you, shuffling over until he was by your side. “You, uh, your makeup…” He trailed off bashfully, raising his thumb but stopping before it touched your skin. “May I?”

You nodded, breath hitching as the pad of his finger grazed just below your eye. He gently rubbed, tongue poking between his lips while he focused on removing the smudge without hurting you. 

He was close, almost too close for comfort. There was a small cut on his chin where he must have nicked himself shaving, and you forced yourself to stare at that instead of his wide eyes. 

“There…we…go.” He held up a mascara-stained thumb as evidence. Without thinking, you pressed your own thumb to it. The knuckles of your remaining four fingers slotted between his until you pulled away. 

Eddie laughed, apparently amused by the odd gesture. “I’ll take that as a thank you.” He wiped the residue on his shirt, not caring if it left a mark. “Don’t miss the bus; wouldn’t want you to be late for your nerd stuff again.”

“Mhm.”

You harnessed all of your strength to unglue your feet from the sidewalk. Your body operated on autopilot to its destination while your mind only thought of the heat that leapt from his thumb to yours, or maybe yours to his. 

It was cyclical, you surmised as the bus approached, with no clear beginning or end.

--

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[lover-of-mine]

It's actually kinda funny because I was watching a bunch of Oliver interviews the other day and there's this one where he talks about doing some of his own stunts and he's talking about how when the cameras are rolling, he's so much braver and he does stuff for Buck he would never do himself and the guy was SO SCARED of singing he needed real tequila. Dude really said doing my own stunts? Light work no reaction. Singing karaoke? GIVE ME THE BOTTLE. Baby boy are you that bad of a singer? What even is happening in that song? It's not like it seems like they are serenading each other, it seems like a high energy song, why was he so scared??????

[sinning-23]

Serenade Pt.2 (Zoro x Siren!Reader)

Since you guys really liked the first part here's a continuation of it! thanks fo rall your support and dont forget my indox/asks are open! id be happy to write for you all!

Warnings: 18+ this has some smutty scenes. uhhh usual p in v, touching, kissing, begging and not from who you think lol, deepthroating, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight choking

anyway,

Enjoy!

Pt.1 Found Here

"Let me taste you."

The request makes him groan, head falling forward and into he crook of your neck as he fights to keep his desire at bay. Every reaction he gave proved to be sweeter than anything you ever tasted. The way his tanned face tints a dark red, how he's trying to refrain from whimpering, from being soft and submissive with you.

‘This had to be an illusion right?’ He thinks to himself, trying to steady his breathing when you palm him through the thin fabric of his pants.

No, this was very real. So real that the slight pinch from your teeth trying desperately not to sink into his neck is the only thing keeping him from feeling completely blissed out.

What have you done to him? He thinks again, not being able to fight the rather loud moan that escaped past his glossy lips. Swears slip into the air as you purr against his jaw, peppering kisses there.

"Aweee does that feel good baby?" You tease, using your thumb to push down on the tip, precum already leaking onto your hands.

"FFFuck. Yeah." Zoro growls, hips bucking upward as you bite your lip in response.

Part of him wants to beg but gods, the last thing he needs and wants is to feed into your ego. He can't help it though, something about that dark look in your eyes, and the way you're handling him like he's...easy, does something to him, makes his brain foggy. Fuck. There you go again, being absolutely filthy and there he is, loving every minute of it.

He watches as you sink to your knees, then lick from base to tip, tongue longer than he expected. Damn Siren. Your eyes never leave him and you can see his adams apple bob when he swallows.

His knuckles are white from gripping the counter so damn hard, and he feels like he'll break it when you take him to the back of your throat so easily. Only the wet sound of your slobbering and his hoarse moans combined with the ocean waves below fill the space

He frees the counter, throwing his finger into your hair, tangling it further when he tries to gain some control, and thrusts forward. You're practically swallowing him down, his hips bucking uncontrollably at the feeling.

What really makes him melt is when you remove one of his hands from our scalp and hold it, knowing he was creeping closer and closer to cumming down your throat.

"Feels so good. Just like that y/n, don't stop." He whines, continuing to fuck your face, pace quickening when you somehow open wider and let your tongue lull out.

How had you not gagged yet??? He doesn't bother trying to answer when he's already seeing stars behind his eyes, the warmth of his cum sliding down your throat and mixing with the saliva that drips down your chin. Fuck, had you swallowed? All of it?!

You stand, reciprocating that same tight-fisted grip he had on your hair to him, and pressing your lips to his, the kiss ferish and rough.

"I can't wait to see you all fucked out under me." You promise, shoving him back further, a gasp slipping past his lips when you do.

"W-Wait-" He whines, protests cut short when he feels his tip slide against your warm, wet folds.

"Can't handle me?" You question, just barely sliding up and down his length while you straddled him.

Damn you were something dangerous, he was still weak from literally 2 minutes ago. Despite this little fact, he was dying to be inside you, feel you squeeze down on him, milk him even more than your throat already had.

And gods was he was cursing himself for liking how much control you had over him. This definitely had to do with your stupid siren abilities. You'd lulled him to rest once and now you were going to fuck him to sleep.

"No, thats not it, fuck-" Zoro groans, finally feeling you slide down, your walls sucking him in as he grips the plush of your ass, helping you to ride him with proficiency. It’s your turn to moan now, the curve of his dick hitting you just right. Soooo deep. Your eyes roll back, hair cascading over your shoulders and down your back when your this your head back with a moan he’d only ever heard in his dreams.

“So beautiful, my girl is so beautiful.”

He hardly realizes he said it out loud until your look at him with glossy, anxiety filled hues. Shit, he couldn’t help but whine when you looked at him like that.

“Y-Yours?” You question? Almost pleading for the answer to be yes.

He had no problems repeating himself when you were fucking him like this, rolling your hips slower now, far more calculated after his confession.

You lift a bit, almost having him slide completely out but he only slams you back down. Your nails dig into his shoulders, you mouth falling open in a silent scream with your eyes screwed shut. So full.

“Mine.”

How you had switched position was a blur to you, it didn’t matter though, because he’s got you laying flat, his hips snapping into yours with your legs thrown over his shoulders.

“Your mine. This pussy is mine. All fucking mine.” He growls, intertwining your fingers far more intimately than you are expecting.

All you can do is take it now, letting any an all control melt away as you give in to him, it’s his turn now. And he wastes no time taking advantage. Zoro’s multitasking, lips all over your supple skin, leaving bruises and bites of all kinds there.

You can feel yourself squeeze down particularly hard, that familiar bundle of nerves finally giving in and your stomach clenches. He doesn’t stop though, fucking you all the while through your organs until he’s twitching and trembling form his own. Unsuccessfully pulling out, he managed to paint not only your insides but your thighs and part of your stomach.

He’s not spent yet, still half hard and resting against your thigh. Your fingers are still lock together and for a moment there’s a silence. Your breaths no longer raged, just the slight breeze and the ocean waves. And you see him.

His face slightly red, sweat beading against his forehead despite it being somewhat cool tonight. He’s got some freckles littering his skin, not his face but just a few dotting his shoulders and chest.

His earrings sway a bit when he blinks whatever unwanted though away and you can’t help but let your free had cup his cheek. Zoro can’t help but lean into it, closing his eyes at the gentle touch, the warmth.

You lean upwards, a softer kiss planted against his semi swollen lips. And he leans into that too, pulling you closer, wrapping around you, somehow accidentally teen trying you. Your both gasp, keeping your eyes shut.

He thrusts slower now, the wet squelching of your fluids and his sliding down your thighs and coating his front. It’s filthy, but so so intimate, the fact that he’s fucking some of his cum into you, and hopefully preparing to leave more.

“Zoro.” You mewl, holding the back of his neck as your foreheads press together.

“Say it again. Let me hear it again baby, please.” He huffs, rubbing slow and agonizing circles over your clit. How whine, trying to meet each of his thrusts with your hips.

“Zoro.” You repeat, closer to his ear now, moaning it out as the tones Sind into his bloodstream.

You don’t stop though, both of you feeling closer than ever, and his name is on your lips like a prayer. He praised you, commending you for hos good you’re being, how well you take his cock. He makes sure you know who you belong to because right as you teeter off the edge he holds you impossible close and says…..

“You’re mine.”

And who were you to disagree?

___________________________________________

You both laid out on the deck, the sun rising alarming you only a little bit because that means the crew would finally be awake. That same silence is over the two of you, his arms wars lord around your worn body, the bites and hickeys falling darker now after being felt alone for a while.

He wasn’t good with tension. Unanswered questions that just hung in the air until push came to shove. His heavy breath was proof enough.

“If you’re wondering what this makes us….that’s up to you. Nami said I’d have my teeth in your throat. Did that, obviously.” You hum, turning to face him.

He only purses his lips and tests his chin on top of your head.

“Nami says a lot of things. I already spoke my piece. You’re mine. And I don’t just say things for fun.” He explains, squeezing you tighter almost.

You don’t reply, knowing that you wouldn’t get far in an argument about wherever or not he had possession of you. He did, it didn’t need to be stated out loud.

After all, you had done a job far better than you imagined. Who knew a simple serenade you have caught yourself more than a meal.

Taglist: @aesthetic-bbyg @nxxun-blog @saltyfriendsaladbandit

[madamechrissy]

Preview for ♔ Silent Serenades- An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔- Part Twelve

EXPLICIT- MDNI-Don't read if you haven't read Part Eleven - Will be out tomorrow!!

 “I still hate him for touching you, for having you first. I only did not kill him because I love you so fucking much. I know you care for him.”

“I do care. He is not a bad person, Satoru, he’s a good person.”

“Perhaps he is, but do you know what I realized?” Satoru’s thumb traces your lip now, swollen from biting it so much.

“What is that?”

“He’s not in your heart.”

“No, he is not. It’s got a rather slutty and whorish Duke overtaking it.” Satoru raises a brow at that, your fingers are caressing delicately where he is bruised, over his perfect muscles, flexing as he sucks in a breath.

“Perhaps you should make it up, your former lover punching my pretty face.” You snort then. “You think I’m jesting, bratty girl?”

“Indeed, you are. You deserved a hit for being terrible.” Satoru reaches down now, unbuttoning his trousers, his hard, thick length slapping his belly button, and you feel heat pooling between your thighs.

“Open your mean little mouth.” He orders softly, you shift on your knees as he sits up, obediently opening your mouth, for him to grab your hair, shoving his cock inside of it. “Oh fuck… your mouth is so…”

“Mmm…” You’re moaning as he is, sucking on his cock and looking right into his eyes, the most heady thing, his huge hands enwrapping in your locks as you suck him greedily, feeling him hitting the back of your throat.

“Take all of it, Princess.” He whispers now, and you pull back with a pop, saliva dripping in strings from his pretty tip.

“All of it!?”

“Relax that throat, you can do it.” You struggle to breathe through your nose now, taking more and more of him with every sloppy stroke, now he’s fucking your face and throat, and you can’t stand how good it feels. He hisses then as you sink all the way down, throat bulging with him, his hand touches it now. “That’s it, slutty throat, she can take me.”

You press even deeper, feeling him stretch and burn your throat now, nose flush against the thin white patch of his hair, he’s whimpering now, your eyes are watering, but you continue, sucking him, over and over, cunt dripping wet as your hands brace on his thighs for stability. You feel him thickening now, as he bucks up into your throat, rougher and rougher.

“Th-that’s it… Princess you… s’good, f-fuck…” He's falling apart, using your throat to bring himself closer and closer. “Bet he didn’t use you like this, bet he was all sweet, hmm?”

You glare and he’s lost it, cupping your face and moving more and more, mumbling incoherently.

“I’ll use your bratty fucking mouth, so you can’t talk, what do you think?” He slaps your cheek gently, you’re moaning more against him now, urging him on. “Fuck every memory out of your pretty head.”

You want to tell him, they’re already long gone, that all there is now is him, even when he’s speaking like this, it just makes you want him more, the duality of him, so dirty but sweet. Fucking you so brutally one moment to worship your entire body the next, calling you a beautiful Princess then a slutty brat. You want it all, you want every bit of the Duke.

“Going to drink up all my seed, aren’t you? Greedy little whore.” He mutters now, fucking your throat harder, you gasp for breath as he pummels it, reaching down to touch yourself, you’re so wet and needy. “No.”

Satoru yanks your fingers up like he did last time, leaving you to whine out, as he sucks on them greedily, continuing to pump your mouth.

“She is mine, only I touch her, unless I tell you to.” Satoru moans louder now, hips stuttering. “You’re so wet already I bet. Think I should touch you?”

You shake your head, sucking harder, saliva and precum dripping down his veiny cock, and his eyes are dilated, so dark, eyes lidded as he watches you suck him, throat hurting so bad tears are pouring. But you’re wetter now, grinding against nothing, wanting him so badly you can’t think, like he is fucking your brain, like he has been since you first kissed him truly.

“If you take all this cum and swallow I’ll touch you, greedy little Princess. Can you do it?” You simply suck harder, glaring, and he smirks.

Almost here <3

[staciesometimeswrites]

Walk With Me - BuckTommy Fic Prompt

This is me trying not to break down over today's election results.

Prompt from @aplaceinme (If you don't want to be tagged please, let me know.)

"a beautiful autumn day, walking around the park on a cute date??"

Rays of filtered sunlight peek through the curtains in Buck’s loft. Slowly, he blinks his eyes open, squinting at even the low light of the morning. Groaning quietly, he rolls onto his side and drapes his arm over Tommy’s stomach, snuggling deeper into his side. Closing his eyes, he exhales deeply and basks in the warmth of the man he’s coming to love.

Tommy stirs. One of his large hands digs into the curls at the back of Buck’s head, giving gentle scritches as he presses his plush lips against his forehead. “Morning.” His voice is raspy with sleep but so full of love that Buck feels butterflies in his stomach. Lifting his head, he pouts his lips until Tommy pecks them, smirking with a chuckle.

“Morning.” Buck yawns, eyes watering and jaw cracking. Getting up onto his elbows, he stares down at his boyfriend and asks, “Since we’re up early, how does a walk around the park sound? We can grab some coffee or something while we walk.” Leaning down, he places a gentle kiss against Tommy’s chest, along the smattering of slightly greying chest hair that always seems to make him a bit self conscious, but that Buck loves beyond words.

Running a hand through his hair, Tommy hums and grins at him, eyes crinkling with delight. “Sounds great, babe. But… maybe just ten more minutes?” He gives him a lingering kiss before settling back into the pillow, a blissed out look on his face. Buck doesn’t even bother arguing, instead settling back half on top of Tommy, nose buried in the crook of his neck. Tommy pulls the comforter back up around them, snuggling back into its warmth.

Ten minutes turns into thirty, that turns into an hour. Neither of them mind.

When they manage to crawl out of bed, they each don a pair of jeans and a hoodie; Buck totally stole one of Tommy’s, but he doesn’t say anything, instead grinning as he shakes his head, pulling Buck in for a side hug and a kiss to his birthmark.

Buck gathers his keys, his phone, and his wallet as they head out into the relative cool of a California autumn. As they exit the building, Tommy slides his hand into the hoodie pouch and takes Buck’s hand, squeezing it but not trying to extract it, and they walk that way until - laughing as they bump into each other every few steps - they reach the coffee shop three blocks west of the apartment complex. As they dip inside, Tommy places one of his hands at the small of Buck’s back, herding him while also marking his claim. Buck feels so warm. So safe. So loved. So… Possessed. A shiver shoots down his spine and Tommy asks, concerned, “Are you cold? We don’t have to go to the park.”

“No, babe. I’m good.” Buck elbows him gently in the stomach and approaches the cashier, who greets him with a pearly white smile and a hearty ‘good morning!’ Without even needing to confirm it, he’s known it by heart for months, Buck orders both their coffee’s and a muffin to split - chocolate chip, Tommy’s favorite.

They grab their things and go outside to stand at one of the bar tables to eat their breakfast, feeding each other bites between kisses and flirtatious quips. The street is so quiet that Buck feels like he’s in their own little bubble; it’s early enough that the songbirds still serenade the morning sun. An elderly gentleman sits a few tables away at one of the bistro tables, reading an honest to God newspaper that he flips the pages of every so often between sips of coffee. A woman taps away at a laptop at another table, dressed to the flawless 9’s, even though the sun has barely risen. The scent of freshly baked bread and newly brewed coffee carry through the air on the crisp breeze passing by around them.

Buck feels like he’s carved out, and captured, a little piece of heaven this morning.

Tommy returns their empty plate inside and when he returns, he holds out his hand to Buck who links their pinkies without hesitation, letting it swing between them, their coffee’s in their free hands. Tommy quirks an eyebrow at him with his usual deadpan stare and Buck stares back innocently, giving him the biggest puppy dog eyes he can manage. Tommy doesn’t last ten seconds before snorting, lips turning up into a wry smile. “Dork.” He shakes his head and drags Buck in the direction of the park, hanging on with his pinky for dear life.

There’s a pond with a trail a couple of miles long and perfect for a stress free morning warm up. As they enter onto the trail, Buck throws his now empty cup into the trashcan at the mouth and stuffs his now free hand into his pocket to keep warm. Tommy continues to sip at his as they stroll along the paved path, smiling at mom’s and dad’s passing by with their tots in strollers or the runner that zips by, music blasting from their headphones as ponytails swish back and forth and light glints off polarized sunglasses. Couples sprawl out on blankets along the green lawns on either side of the trail or the occasional person with their nose buried in a book, clearly fantasizing about other times and worlds. They watch as elderly men and women sit mostly alone on benches along the shore, staring off into the distance as their arthritic hands grasp onto walking sticks and walkers. Ducks and geese swarm around the bench areas as they’re fed bread that isn’t good for them. Buck grins as he spouts off facts about why you’re not supposed to feed wildlife bread anymore, and Tommy pays rapt attention like he’ll be quizzed on it at the end of the lecture.

They stop at an open bench and sit for a little while, Tommy pulling Buck into his side, allowing him to lay his head against his shoulder. Their silence is so comfortable Buck feels the pull towards sleep and maybe even dozes off for a few minutes, not that Tommy will ever tell him he did. When they decide to get moving again, Buck takes Tommy’s hand fully in his now, loving how Tommy’s hand is large enough that it fully engulfs his own; a feeling that he never thought he’d get to experience. While he absolutely loves women, there was something special about being the smaller one; the one that gets to feel fully encased by a partner's love and warmth.

“Ready to head back?” Tommy asks after one full circuit of the pond. Buck grins at him and leans in for a kiss, humming happily when Tommy gives him exactly what he wants.

“Yeah. Thanks for coming with me this morning.”

Tommy’s nose crinkles as he replies, “Any time, Evan. I love you.”

His heart gives a strong ba-dump as he says, grinning back, “Love you, too, Tommy.” He simply couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend, or a better start to his day.

[morgan-va]

How would Rocky react to finding his gn! s/o wearing his clothes (his blue suit and hat) while they're sleeping?

Here ya go!

Masterlist

Rocky x GN!Reader Who Fell Asleep in His Clothes

Rocky Rickaby had seen many curious sights in his life, most of them of his own making. But the scene before him as he stepped into the small sitting room of Lackadaisy might just take the cake.

There you were, curled up on the worn velvet couch, fast asleep. That alone might not have been so strange, bootlegging had a way of wearing folks out, after all. But what caught Rocky off guard and froze him mid-step with his violin case still dangling from one hand, was your attire.

You were wearing his suit.

His suit.

The long sleeves of his blue jacket hung over your hands, and the suit nearly swallowed you whole. His hat, slightly askew, rested atop your head, shadowing your peaceful face. The orange tie, loosely knotted, added the final touch to the ensemble.

For a moment, Rocky just stood there, staring, his blue eyes wide and his mouth twitching in a battle between surprise and a grin that threatened to take over his face entirely. He set the violin case down gently, as if afraid any sudden noise might shatter the surreal scene.

“Borrowing my wardrobe, are we?” he murmured under his breath, more to himself than to you.

As he approached, his footsteps soft on the floorboards, he couldn’t help but take in the little details: how the oversized suit draped over you like a blanket, how his hat tilted precariously with each steady rise and fall of your chest, how utterly content you looked.

Rocky crouched beside the couch, resting his chin on the back of his hand as he studied you. For all his usual bravado and chaos, he felt something uncharacteristically soft unfurling in his chest.

“Y’know,” he said quietly, though you couldn’t hear him, “you wear it better than I do. I’d be jealous if it wasn’t so darn adorable.”

The corners of his mouth twitched into a lopsided grin, and he reached out, hesitating for a moment before carefully adjusting the hat so it wouldn’t fall off. The action stirred you slightly, and Rocky froze as your eyes fluttered open.

Bleary and still half-lost in sleep, you blinked at him, confusion knitting your brow. “Rocky?”

He beamed at you, leaning his elbows on the armrest of the couch. “The one and only! Though, apparently, you’ve decided to become my stunt double while I wasn’t looking. Should I be worried?”

It took you a moment to process his words, and then your gaze dropped to the oversized sleeves and jacket you were swaddled in. A faint flush crept up your cheeks. “I—uh—it was cold,” you mumbled, avoiding his amused gaze.

Rocky’s grin only widened. “Cold, you say? And my dashing ensemble was the only solution? I can’t say I blame you—it’s practically made for napping in style.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “If it bothers you so much, I can take it off—”

“Oh, heavens no!” he interrupted, throwing up his hands in mock horror. “Perish the thought! You look like a million bucks, and that’s coming from a guy who’s lucky to have a dollar to his name.”

Despite yourself, you laughed softly, settling back into the couch. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re impossibly charming,” he shot back, his voice dipping into dramatic sincerity as he rested a hand over his heart. “The sight of you like this, darling, has truly made my weary soul sing!”

You shook your head, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “Are you always this ridiculous, or am I just lucky?”

“Both,” Rocky replied with a wink, reaching for his violin case. “But since you’ve graced me with such a delightful image tonight, I feel inspired. Shall I serenade you, my fashionable muse?”

Before you could protest, he’d already perched himself on the edge of the coffee table, his violin tucked under his chin. The first notes he played were soft and unmistakably cheerful.

As the music filled the room, you couldn’t help but smile, sinking deeper into the couch and the borrowed warmth of his suit. If this was what it meant to be caught in Rocky’s whirlwind, you thought, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.