#anon slid into my inbox

[koldsoba]

Frozen 3 Story idea. “Frozen 3: 22 years later” is set 22 years after the 1st movie. Not long after Frozen 2, Elsa suffered what happens to all 5th spirits by getting bound to Ahtohallan with a curse. The spirits cursed her(the spirits see it as a bit of a blessing), which caused her to get stranded on the island of Ahtohallan, and to start to forget about her life prior to having accepted the role of 5th spirit. It also caused her to be unable to physically age, her skin to turn blue and her hair to turn black. Meanwhile, Elsa’s sister, Anna assumes that she has received a “gift” from Ahtohallan for her great deed of destroying the dam. Like Iduna, who had received a similar gift for her brave deed and passed it on to Elsa at birth, the same thing has now unexpectedly happened to Anna, which means that one of her children has special powers, but this child has it easy compared to Elsa.

Anna has two 18-year-old daughters, Gerda and Karen. Gerda is fascinated by the story of when Anna saved Elsa during the eternal winter(aka the events of Frozen 1) and wants to write a very unbiased account of what happened. She likes collecting items like newspaper clippings that relate to the events of Frozen 1. She wants to hear Hans side of the story, but she can’t because Hans disappeared and was branded a pirate by the Southern Isles due to stealing a ship. Karen, on the other hand, is fascinated by the story of how Elsa saved Arendelle from being flooded(aka the events of Frozen 2). Only Gerda, not Karen, has seen her Aunt, and that’s because Gerda has ice powers which allow her to endure the coldness of Ahtohallan, but she doesn't have the power to create life like Elsa does. Gerda thinks her powers were a gift that the spirits gave her due to what Anna did, but she’s not sure why the spirits gave her powers that “just happened” to be almost identical to Elsa’s powers. Do the spirits want her to take Elsa’s place? She’s seen Elsa once and she barely survived that time because Ahtohallan was so cold even for her, which caused her family much trauma. She’s the main character of Frozen 3, and she spends most of the movie looking for Maui's fishhook in order to get the spirits to free her Aunt from both the curse and her role as the 5th spirit. Gerda learned some things about the fishhook from Bulda, including that in order to grant ETERNITY to Elsa she must feed the 4 fish using the fishhook. The pieces of the fishhook spell ETERNITY. After studying ancient myths, Gerda learns that Maui(before he met Moana) stole magic from the 4 spirits, trapping the magic in his fishhook, which is why the spirits need human help to perform their duties in Ahtohallan, hence why the 5th spirit exists. If the magic is returned to the spirits, they will no longer have any need for a 5th spirit and Elsa will be free. Maui eventually decided to return the magic to the spirits, but he lost the fishhook before he could do it. But Gerda needs to find the fishhook quickly otherwise the magic binding Elsa to Ahtohallan will become irreversible.

Gerda wants to go looking for the fishhook with Anna but accidents keep happening that delay them. One day, during the Arendelle harvest festival, Captain Hans wakes up not far from the ports of Arendelle. It turns out that his nephew Kai sailed the ship there when Hans was sleeping because Kai wanted to visit Arendelle due to hearing about it from Hans’ stories. Hans reluctantly takes Kai to visit Arendelle. While they’re there, Anna trips and drops her scepter and one of Hans’ crewmembers picks it up and steals it. Hans and his crew flee Arendelle and a ship from the royal navy pursues them. Gerda stows away on the ship so she can help catch the thieves. While sailing, her ship is attacked by undead sailors lead by Euron. Euron slaughters her crew and consumes their blood, but Gerda uses her powers to escape and flee to Weselton. Euron realizes that Gerda is looking for the fishhook when he finds Gerda’s notebook, but he struggles to understand a lot of what the notebook says because a lot of what’s in the notebook is written in a code. Meanwhile, Captain Hans runs out of grog to give to his crew and he fears a mutiny when he hears his crew grumbling about it. In Weselton, Gerda foils Captain Hans from stealing from a brewery using her ice powers, but instead of thanking her, the people of Weselton accuse her of being a witch and lock her up with Hans. The two of them are about to be publicly executed when Kai uses fireworks to distract the guards and rescues them with the help of the other members of Hans' pirate crew, but one of the members of the crew knocks Gerda out from behind her. At first Hans contemplates using Gerda as a hostage, but she persuades Hans to help her find the fishhook after she promises she will provide Kai with a comfortable life in Arendelle if he helps her. Gerda comes aboard his pirate ship “The Throwaway” in order to find the island where the fishhook is hidden. The Throwaway was once a slave ship called The Dark One.

Shortly after Frozen, Hans and his brother Lars worked as privateers on a ship run by slaves. Hans led a mutiny on the slave ship and became a pirate, before fleeing to Neverland(a place where nobody ages) for a time, and that’s why he hasn’t aged much in Frozen 3. Hans has a “bastard” nephew with him called Kai. Kai is the son of Prince Lars, and he was a slave on a slave ship until Hans led the mutiny. Hans was ordered to whip Kai to death, and Hans reluctantly agreed to that order despite Lars’ protests. Hans whipped Kai 12 times before he threw down his whip and instigated the mutiny. Euron fires a cannonball at Hans from a nearby ship, but Lars dives in front of Hans and is struck instead. Before Lars dies, he makes Hans promise to take care of Kai so that Kai may become a better man than either of them. Kai and Gerda fall in love with each other over the course of the movie. While on Gerda’s ship, Euron suspects that Gerda might come back to look for the notebook, but he briefly sails away from Gerda’s ship in order to hunt for “fresh meat”, leaving one of his minions behind on Gerda’s ship to guard the notebook. Gerda first asks Hans to sail to her ship to find her journal, which Hans is very reluctant to do so because that ship had just been attacked, but he relents when Gerda promises him that no one will get hurt. Hans sails to Gerda’s ship, and he and Gerda use a small rowboat to hop onto the ship. After spending some time looking for the notebook, the two of them finally find it and steal it from that minion, but that minion sends out a flare which alerts Euron to what’s going on.

The main villain of Frozen 3 is Euron, Hans’ father and former King of the Southern Isles and the person Hans fears the most because he’s responsible for Lars’ death. Prince Caleb, 1st born son of Euron is one of the villains serving under Euron, and Caleb is one of the people Hans fears. Caleb wants his curse to be broken so he can return to his wife and children. Euron captains his own ship and has a bag that's bigger on the inside. It's filled with things like magic carpets, magic beans, and poisoned apples. Shortly after Frozen, when Hans stole a slave ship, Euron sailed after him. Hans caused Euron to crash his ship into rocks situated right off the coast of the cursed Island of Shattered Shards by firing a cannonball at the steering wheel of the ship. Euron and his crew get cursed by the island into becoming undead beings who need fresh human blood to survive. Euron lost everything including his authority over the Southern Isles because of what Hans did and he gets filled with an intense rage. Euron ends up going after the fishhook in order to use its power to curse the Southern Isles army into becoming undead warriors, but he deceives his crew into thinking he wants it in order to undo their curses. His crew, led by a furious Caleb, turn against him and grab hold of him when they find out the truth, and they sacrifice themselves to destroy Euron once and for all, but not before Euron stabs Hans with a poisoned blade. Gerda and the rest of her crew escape with the fishhook on a small rowboat, but they have no ship because their pirate ship has been sunk. Kai wants Hans to use the magic of the fishhook to save himself, but Hans chooses not to because he thinks the magic needs to be used to save Elsa because Elsa's suffering is greater. Kristoff plays the role of an antagonist for most of the movie. He doesn’t approve of people talking about Elsa because it brings back sad memories. By the time of Frozen 3, he’s lost all hope of Elsa ever coming back and is determined to stop Gerda from wasting her time looking for the fishhook because many people in the past have died trying to look for the fishhook. When he realizes that Gerda stowed away, he goes after her on a small ship. Kristoff saves Gerda and the others after he sees them on the rowboat. Gerda persuades him to heal Hans using troll medicine. Gerda tells Kristoff that she needs to get to Ahtohallan and bring the fishhook with her as fast as she can, but Kristoff says it’s too dangerous because she nearly got killed the last time she went to Ahtohallan. But he reluctantly changes his mind when Hans remarks that no one, including Hans himself, can stop Gerda from doing whatever it takes to save her aunt.

After Hans is healed, Gerda runs across the sea to get to Ahtohallan with the fishhook in an attempt to find Elsa before it's too late, unaware that she is being followed by Euron, who survived when his crewmembers attacked him. When she enters Ahtohallan, he follows her into the glacier. When she finds Elsa, she finds out that Elsa’s almost completely lost her memory of Anna. She manages to call the spirits towards her, but they don’t uncurse Elsa because they’re unable to absorb the fishhook’s magic. Gerda starts to feel very cold and is about to leave Ahtohallan by stepping onto the shore when she figures out what Bulda meant. Gerda must break the fishhook so the spirits can fully absorb its magic. Euron attempts to stop Gerda from doing this, saying that she’s stupid to give the fishhook’s magic to the spirits instead of taking it for herself, and that with all that power she can secure everything else. Gerda is almost persuaded by Euron, but she still breaks the fishhook. Furiously, Euron attacks Gerda and he even overpowers her. He’s about to break her neck when the curse is lifted from Elsa, and Elsa destroys Euron once and for all with the help of the 4 spirits. Suddenly, Ahtohallan begins to shake and slowly sink into the sea because the 4 spirits no longer need a 5th spirit now that they have what they desire, which means no human being need ever enter Ahtohallan again. Elsa and Gerda struggle to escape. Hans sees Ahtohallan sinking and sails towards it. Later, Anna looks out the window of her castle and sees one of her royal ships. Hans gets off the ship and he gets tied up by her guards just as he’s about to speak. He’s about to be thrown into the dungeons when Elsa, Kristoff, and Gerda appear. Hans gets forgiven for his past crimes after helping bring Elsa home and he settles down in Arendelle with Kai, taking a job as a servant in Arendelle castle. Elsa retires from the role of 5th Spirit and keeps her powers.

Sitron, who is Hans’ mare, is also in the movie, and she helps save Hans in Weselton. Kai starts shipping Hans and Elsa the moment he sees them. Hans finds this a bit creepy. Also, scenes like the charade scene are referenced in the movie. Hans hears from Gerda that Elsa said he's an "unredeemable monster" and he's somewhat sad because he'd prefer the term "scoundrel". The snowball scene in Frozen Fever is also referenced. Hans thought the snowball was the result of his brothers trying to gaslight him into thinking Elsa was trying to kill him.

girl you lost me at maui

[heymrspatel]

Hi 🥰 I thing youre so confident when talking to people? Do you have any tips? Im so intimidated by so many of you but you all seem nice!

omg... anon, i need to be honest and tell you that i legitimately thought you had the wrong blog when i saw this come in. (do you? was this actually for me?)

it may seem like i'm confident (???), but i'm assuredly ✨not✨ i started off in this fandom sending anons just like this! i would drop in and freak out and compliment and wish people a good day just because i thought they were nice!

after a while though i just went for it with one person (hi cat), then another (hi mel), then i posted some art, and it all just kept going from there! and people were so welcoming and sweet right back! and THAT is what helped me just be my silliest self. also, just like going apeshit in the tags too lmao!

i still struggle with talking to people though! ooof! it's so hard for me to message first, which doesn't mean i don't want to. it's just like pulling teeth. thinking i'm annoying people, you know?

i still don't quite know how i landed the friends i did 😭😭😭 i'm sooo grateful, but also very confused and amazed by it everyday.

aaaall this to say that if you're comfortable on anon, that's ok! and it's a great stepping stone for getting comfy talking to some people! if you choose to stay anon, that perfectly ok! but also know that these are some of the KINDEST most welcoming bunch of people i've ever met in my life!! so if you decide to come off anon, you will just be cradled and pulled into the biggest group hug 💙

babe, you didn't ask for an essay. i'm sorry. i have big feelings.

[gloomwitchwrites]

morning after one night stand with 141?

Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.

I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, feelings, oral sex (male & female receiving), sex w/ and w/o condoms, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.6k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.

The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?

All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—

Fuck.

You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.

Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.

You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.

Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed.  Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.

Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.

In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?

You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.

As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.

It’s John.

He’s awake.

And he’s staring right at you.

“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.

“No,” you reply automatically.

He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”

Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.

“Am I?”

He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.

John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.

Fuck.

“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.

It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.

Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.

But it’s cut off. Cinched.

John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.

He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.

John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.

You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.

There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.

“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.

Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.

This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.

But no. That’s not what this is.

Not really.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.

You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.

When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.

The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.

“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.

You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.

“Johnny,” you murmur.

“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.

“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.

He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.

This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.

And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.

But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.

“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.

Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.

Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.

No wonder you’re sore.

Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”

He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?

No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.

The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.

But breakfast sounds lovely.

When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.

Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.

“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.

His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.

“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.

Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.

“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.

His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.

Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.

“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.

Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.

“For breakfast, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.

You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.

His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.

This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.

Simon.

You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.

Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.

If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.

That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.

It’s…fine.

Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.

Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.

“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.

You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.

He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.

“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.

“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.

You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.

Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.

Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.

“We ran out last night,” he states simply.

It suddenly grows hot in the room.

“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.

He bought more. Which means—

“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.

When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.

“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.

You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”

By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.

“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.

You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.

“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”

Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.

Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.

The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.

Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.

Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.

Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.

He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.

Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.

What a way to start the day.

Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.

“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.

Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.

“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.

It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.

“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.

You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.

“Did I?” he asks, absently.

Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.

This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.

Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.

The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.

Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.

This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.

“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.

He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.

“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.

In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.

“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.

“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.

“Open those legs for me.”

You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.

When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”

Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”

You don’t need to rush out of here.

“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.

“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.

Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe you could make this into something else.

Maybe this is him offering more.

Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @haven-1307 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving

@unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower

@sageyxbabey @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

@mudisgranapat @ninman82 @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @daemondoll @iloveslasher @yawning-grave81

@sammysinger04 @jackrabbitem @statixx-x @xxkay15xx @lxblm

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @azkza @ash-tarte @certainlygay

@hantheconqueror @dakotakazansky @jaggersinclair @suhmie @kidd3ath

@lovely-ateez @thewulf @coffeecaketornado @glassgulls @beebeechaos

[monzamash]

★ last chance; long live the inbox graveyard! —i pick a long forgotten request in my inbox and write a short blurb or musings

hot tub time machine lando norris x you —no warnings, just fluff "could we get a number 14 (pool/hot tub sex) with lando pleaseeee? so excited that you’re writing again!!" —requested by anon on october 8th, 2024

“happy birthday, sweetheart...”

“i really needed this," he sighed, "knowing i would be home with you for this was the only thing getting me through the last few of weeks.”

lando could feel every single ache and pain wash away as he slid into the hot tub, stomach full of the gorgeous italian spread you’d ordered for dinner. his favourite. he swore you were an angel sent to earth, everything you did for him was heavenly, he could never find the words to tell you how much he loved you.

“you look so happy lan,” you smiled, dropping the kimono you’d worn during dinner as lando’s eyes cast across your body, luring you into the tub.

“i’m very happy - especially when i get to enjoy all of this… c’mere pretty girl.”

a soft giggle slipped from your lips as you grasped his hand, "let me get a bottle of red wine for us to share and i'll join you — do you wanna open the one daniel gave you?"

"ooo, are we entering that portion of the night?" lando asked suggestively as you stood up, shooting him quizzical look.

"what do you mean?" you asked earning a loud laugh from the tub, water splashing a little as lando pulled himself up to the edge, smiling over at you with a look you knew all too well.

"as soon as you start on the red wine, you get so frisky," he stated as if it was a well-known fact, one that you certainly weren't aware of.

"i do not!" you staunchly defended, earning another loud scoff.

"oh, wow," lando laughed, "yes, you do baby and i'm not complaining so crack her open..." he teased as you carefully stepped into the tub, with lando's help of course, eyes still narrowed in annoyance.

"okay so maybe wine makes me a little more amorous than usual but i think i'm just like that when i drink, no?" you pouted, earning yourself a pity kiss from the birthday boy.

"red wine makes you horny and that's okay," he teased again with a cheeky smirk on his face as you handed him the stemmed glass, "ta."

"we'll see then, won't we," you tutted, pouring two glasses of wine while lando chuckled to himself.

"i already know what's gonna happen but sure," he baited with a wink as he slowly dunked his head under the water and emerged with a shake of his wild curls, sending water flying across the room and all over you.

"you are so sure of yourself tonight."

lando's eyes skimmed across your body briefly while you claw-clipped your hair up, not wanting the hassle of having to dry it before going to bed. secretly you knew where the night was headed, red wine or not— it was his birthday after all, but you weren't about to admit that to the man hypnotised by your every move, jaw slack from the glorious view of your cleavage.

lando was a simple man.

"well, i am the birthday boy after all so i reserve the right to be cocky once a year, yeah?" he taunted from the other side of the tub.

"yeah, only once a year..." you rolled your eyes humorously.

the distance between the two of you seemed too far for lando, so he sculled the rest of his drink and carefully placed the glass on the floor before giving you a mischievous smile.

"steady on, party boy," you chuckled as he leaned forward and snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his warm hold.

"i just want to focus all of my attention on you," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear that had fallen out of your clip, his emerald irises darted over your face, finally resting on yours.

"i missed you a lot, you know."

you took that as an invitation to straddle his lap and rest your elbows over his shoulders, wine glass dangling from your fingers. lando smoothed his hands down your back and and pressed fiery kisses across your chest. his lips travelled back up your neck, along your jaw before finding your soft lips in a slow, passionate kiss. you moved in sync with him, bringing one of your hands up to trawl through his wet, tangled curls. the chlorine always got the best of them.

lando hummed quietly into the kiss before pulling back slightly, "this is the best birthday i've ever had... and i couldn't be more in love with you," he confessed as you took the chance to admire the sweet boy you'd chosen to share your life with.

you grasped his face gently between your hands and pressed another soft kiss to his lips, making sure he knew just how much you loved him, no matter what life threw your way.

"i love you too, darling... happy birthday."

a/n — the first of the end of (f1) season sale!! this hot tub request actually wasn't forgotten, just half-baked so thank you anon for sparking up the inspiration to finally finish it! hope you enjoyed it 😌

[et6rnalsun]

DON’T, matt sturniolo

𝜗𝜚 pairing: matt sturn x fem! reader

warnings: unprotected & kinda rough sex (wrap it up rn), p in v, mentions of slighty toxic behavior in relationship, cheating (?)

A/N: dedicated to all the anons in my inbox asking for more matt fics 🎀 (requests are open. masterlist) ++ lmk if u guys want to be added to my inexistent taglist.

update: this has been in my drafts for 3 months

one moment you were resting your head on your boyfriend's chest, his fingers gently playing with your hair as you simply cuddled, and the next you were screaming the worst things at each other as you rushed to get your things scattered across the floor of his room.

he didn't have to say much more before sobs escaped your lips, tears falling down your eyes and ruining your mascara which only made your already messed up appearance worse. it was always like this between the two of you, no matter how good you had it since it didn't take much to ruin everything. to make chris put on his mask of carelessness and say the meanest things to you without even thinking about your feelings.

you didn't even know how to get home. you had to sleep there that night, and obviously you didn't want to stay in that house for a second longer. this made you cry more, your figure shaking with constant sobs as you thought of a quick solution.

eventually, the door to matt's room entered your field of vision, and a glimmer of hope lit up in your head.

you knocked gently on his door with your knuckles, and a murmur of agreement came almost immediately. when you opened the door, wiping the tears and the already dried mascara from your cheeks, matt was sitting on the bed as he looked at you with an expression mixed with confusion and sleep. his hair was disheveled, the sheets all wrinkled from tossing and turning around, and he wasn't wearing a shirt at all.

the sight made your heart skip a beat, and it was probably just the guilt eating you up entirely for waking him up in the middle of the night. "what happened?" his eyes filled with concern after seeing your conditions, and he quickly stood up as he approached you — his figure covering yours whole. one of his hands rested on your cheek, and somehow the warmth of his touch made you want to keep crying. inevitably you leaned into that caress, looking up into his eyes. "chris" the answer was enough to make him sigh, as if he already understood everything.

“i just need to put on a shirt, then i'll drive you home” he replied, his thumb leaving one last small touch on your face before turning and reaching for the piece of clothing. you leaned against the wall, watching him put it on. your eyes ran over his figure briefly, his v line highlighted as his arms came up. it was almost impossible for you to look away from the sight, and you instinctively bit your lower lip while your thighs were a bit more closed together. just a little.

you didn't know where all those feelings were coming from, considering that a few minutes before you were in total despair. but then, the sound of matt's car keys woke you from your daydream, and you cleared your throat as you placed a hand on the handle to exit.

"don't you want to change before going out?" he asked, patting your shoulder as he looked at the exposed skin of your body with his intense eyes. looking down, you noticed that you had completely forgotten how you were still wearing your pajamas; some shorts and a satin crop top. you shook your head, adjusting your messy hair as you both walked down the stairs. "i don't want to. nobody will see me anyway"

he let out a small, amused huff, pinching your hip playfully as you bent down to put on your shoes. "you'll catch a cold"

“can you just shut up and drive me home?” you feigned annoyance, but a small hint of a smile appeared on your lips as you returned the pinch with a small push. he chuckled, before taking off his jacket to place it on your shoulders. “come on, let’s go” he slid it off like it was a completely normal and natural gesture, opening the front door as he waited for you.

his scent completely invaded your nostrils, making you feel almost dizzy as you followed him without saying a word. his jacket was slightly big on you, bringing you the warmth you really needed but were too stubborn to admit.

the car ride was uneventful. your temple rested against the window as you watched the streets ‘move’ in front of you, completely quiet and empty. you could feel his gaze drifting over to you at times, staying there for a few seconds before returning his focus to driving.

“you didn't tell me what happened, anyway” his voice interrupted the comforting silence that had created between the two of you as soon as you stopped at a red light, making you turn your head slightly to look at him back. "the same things, matt. we can never find peace with constant fighting and he always seems to find ways to hurt me" you shrugged, your voice low and slightly scratchy from earlier crying. "he doesn't even think before he speaks, you know that better than me. but sometimes i really wish he would"

he took a few seconds before answering, as if he was thinking about it. "i always thought you deserved better. chris isn't ready for a serious relationship" his hand that was on the gear shift suddenly rested on your thigh, his ring-horned fingers stroking the exposed skin. he smirked a little before continuing, watching you shiver at his touch. "he's not mature enough"

you knew matt's words weren't meant to be mean to chris or anything like that, but there was an edge to his tone that confused you slightly. almost like he was hoping you would break up with his brother. "i can't blame him, maybe i’m the one pressuring him too much"

he scoffed at your words as the light turned green again, allowing you two to continue down the street towards your house. "i would really like you to understand that you are probably the best girlfriend anyone could ask for. i'm not the one experiencing it, but looking from the outside, i can tell"

you remained silent at those words, simply looking at him as he was focused on the road. you were beyond confused at that point, and you couldn't figure out what was right or wrong anymore. “if you say so” you decided to say, a small sigh escaping your lips.

soon, he had drove you home safely. you made him stop the car in the parking lot, knowing that you would remain in his company a little longer. "thank you so much, matt, really. you're a friend" your voice reached his ears softly, making him smile as he nodded. "you don't need to thank me" he reminded, placing a hand on your shoulder. “but i want to. it must have been tiring dealing with my sensitive ass all night” you giggled, making him roll his eyes affectionately. "a little. but the fact that you’re pretty has alleviated the suffering"

and then it all happened quickly. his slightly chapped lips had found your glossy ones in a desperate, resentful kiss, his fingers sliding into your hair and the back of your head to pull you closer. you found yourself responding to the kiss immediately, knowing that you weren't expecting anything else. his tongue made its way into your mouth quickly, his other hand trailing down the curve of your hip.

matt was desperate to have his hands on you and it showed in how he couldn't help but touch you everywhere, his touches were frantic as he brought you closer to him and tasted your mouth, what he could only watch for months, practically devouring it.

“get in the back” he practically pleaded, his breathing labored as he broke away from the kiss with a loud 'pop', while you moved quickly to settle into his backseat. his body was quick to tower over yours, his necklace dangling in your face as he pulled your shorts down quickly, before spreading your legs with his hands. he took in the sight of your delicate panties, so thin that it made his head spin. “fuck, you’re perfect” all while your hands already made its way under his shirt, before removing it completely.

he didn't waste any more time, and quickly unbuttoned his pants, groaning at the feeling of your legs already wrapped around his slutty waist.

panties torn with little importance, tip hastily aligned with your entrance before pounding into you without any preparation, making you moan his name out loud in pain mixed with immediate pleasure. "sorry, baby" he murmured, noticing your slight discomfort. he couldn't stop though, and at the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around him he lost his mind and started with a fast pace right away, barely giving you a chance to adjust.

your nails were already digging into his back, scratching, leaving obvious marks that showed how much you were enjoying it — you loved that rough side of him, you really did, and you didn't care if you most likely wouldn't be able to walk for a while. cause you wanted it first anyway.

the windows were fogged, and the sound of your sinful moans and grunts were the only thing occupying the inside of the car, replacing the silence that would have been there with sounds that would be perfect for damn porn good enough to jerk off to.

it was devastating the speed with which you were both close to your orgasm, but it was probably the fault of all that pent-up tension that had finally disappeared in a quick gesture.

matt didn't think about chris as he came inside you, and neither did you as you let him. at all. he didn't even cross your fucked up minds while your bodies, sweaty and exhausted, entwined inside each other in search of a heat capable of calming those similar voids inside you.

but you soon realized you were done when your phone started ringing, and taking it lazily from your dropped bag, you read the name of your current boyfriend. chris.

[03jyh23]

— i haven't kissed you yet today || choi san

genre: fluff

trigger warnings: none

words: 900

reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! this request was in my inbox for an unholy amount of time. currently, i need some breather from all the angst im working on and i decided to give this request a shot! hope my lovely anon will enjoy this small piece of work!

love, monika. ♡

if you enjoyed this post, i’d be so grateful for a little love – a like, reblog or comment would truly make my day!

You were lying on your bed, the soft comforter providing a comforting warmth. The setting sunbathed the bedroom in a beautiful golden light. It was a lazy day, with your activities limited to fetching food or using the bathroom while binge-watching your new favorite series. In recent weeks San's schedule become incredibly hectic due to his idol responsibilities, leaving him little time for his boyfriend duties. He had left home early today again, and you were somewhat upset that he hadn't woken you up to say goodbye. Picking up your phone, you contemplated sending a message, but decided against it, not wanting to add to his already overwhelming responsibilities. Instead, you nestled deeper into the comforter. After several hours of continuous watching, even the most interesting series could lose its charm. So, you decided it was time to close your laptop and give your eyes a much-needed rest. You twisted and turned, trying to find that perfect spot. The bedroom was silent, save for the occasional rustling of the sheets. The golden hues of the setting sun had long faded, replaced by the soft glow of the moonlight seeping through the window. 

Awoken by the noise of unlocking doors, you were in a half-asleep, half-awake state. You clung to your comforter, pulling it closer to your body in a futile attempt to stay asleep. Its weight seemed to keep you in your dreams, but reality kept intruding. You heard the rustle of fabric as San removed his jacket, the sound a testament to the long day he must have had. Following that, the muted thud of his bag hitting the floor echoed in the quiet room. A few heartbeats later, the soft patter of his steps grew louder as he approached the bedroom. Soon after, you heard his footsteps getting louder as he came towards the bedroom. The bed dipped slightly under his weight as he slid in beside you. You could feel the warmth radiating from your boyfriend, his scent filled your nostrils, combining his faded cologne and a faint hint of sweat. 

"Baby?" San murmured, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. "Are you awake?" he asked gently, trying not to startle you. Despite your best efforts to remain asleep, the sound of his voice pulled you towards consciousness. You hummed in response, still unwilling to open your eyes. He chuckled softly at your response. "I'm sorry I came home late," he whispered, his voice laced with guilt. 

You shrugged lightly, turning your face to him. "It's okay," you mumbled, your voice muffled by the comforter. "I'm just glad you're home." He smiled in the darkness, pulling you closer. His arms wrapped around you, providing a warmth far better than any comforter. 

San leaned closer, his face just inches from yours. "You know," he said, his playful voice filled with affection, "I haven't kissed you yet today." 

Your heart fluttered at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. You chuckled softly, looking into his eyes. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" you replied, barely a whisper against the intimate silence. With a gentle, almost shy smile, San closed the small distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made time seem to slow down, each moment lingering in the sweet love between you. "Better?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"Much better," he replied, his thumb tracing a soft line along your jaw. "But I think I need one more, just to be sure." 

You chuckled softly, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. "Well, if you insist," you teased, your lips finding his once more. It was just you and San, wrapped up in each other, sharing a perfect moment. It was a reminder of why you loved him so much, and why, despite the hectic schedules, you wouldn't change a thing. 

San pulled you in closer, your head now resting on his chest. You could hear the steady rhythm of his heart beating, a comforting lullaby in the quiet room. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for longer than usual. "Goodnight, baby," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and affection. As the whisper left his lips, you felt a sense of calm envelope you. The day's stress seemed to melt away with your boyfriend's comforting presence. A soft sigh escaped you, content as you drifted to sleep, nestled securely against him. San's hand gently ran through your hair, the action absent-minded yet filled with affection. It was a simple gesture, one that he probably wasn't even aware of, but it spoke volumes about his feelings for you. It was these moments, the quiet, intimate exchanges when it was just the two of you, that made everything worth it. You knew that no matter how hectic life got, you'd always have these moments to look forward to - the quiet nights spent in each other's arms, the shared laughter and whispered words of love. As you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, you knew that despite the challenges, there was nowhere else you'd rather be. 

[thoughtsforsoob]

Hii! I was wondering if you could do beomgyu fingering you under the table at a restaurant? Tyyy!!

a/n: hehe thank you for this anon! im going to try my best to make this good! inbox is always open!

beomgyu had invited you to dinner with the boys on this particular night. you agreed because you were excited to see the boys again and hang out with your boyfriend at the same time. so, when time rolled around to get to dinner, beomgyu had told you to get ready and that he was going to pick you up from your apartment. Having been told that, you immediately pick out your cute outfit (whatever you wanna wear) and start to do a little hairstyle and some makeup. beomgyu never expected you to dress up or even do any kind of makeup but it made you feel happy so you did it anyway. 

When you were done doing all your steps to get ready, you met him outside and you both headed down to the restaurant together. nothing seemed different or out of place on the way so you were greatly surprised when you felt a hand on your thigh while appetizers were coming to the table. sure, beomgyu had occasionally rested his hand there but it only meant one of two things. 1, it was just a coincidence or 2, he was going to finger you. you were really hoping for it to just be a coincidence since everyone was surrounding you. you continued to make conversation with the boys despite this action. your face hadn’t changed in expression so you were good.

while finishing up your appetizers, you were talking to soobin about a bread recipe you wanted to try (you were asking if he wanted some when you eventually made it). suddenly, you feel a slim finger tracing up and down your slit, stopping at your clit to add extra stimulation, you bit your lip just a bit. soobin raised an eyebrow with concern, “are you okay?” you nod and let go of your lip. “sorry. im getting a cramp in my thigh.” you looked down at your legs and then back up at him. “I'm sorry.” he shook his head and frowned, “don’t apologize. you can’t help it. Are you going to be alright?” you nod and with that, you two continued your conversation. you left feeling the gently finger rubbing up your slit through your panties until beomgyu finally pushed then aside discreetly and slid a finger in. you looked over at him with wide eyes and leaned closer to his ear. “why?” you whispered lowly and he just gave you a smile, kissing your forehead. you felt dizzy from the whiplash his actions were causing you. He was completely disrespecting you under the table and being such a gentleman above the table. The boys hadn’t really been suspecting anything until you started to fade out of the conversation, eyes fixated on beomgyu. Taehyun was the one to speak up and ask if there was something wrong between you two. You immediately snap out of your daze and shake your head. “Oh no, he’s just really handsome.” They all playfully gagged at your answer and Taehyun was the one who remained suspicious. He didn't want to say what he was thinking but he gave beomgyu ‘the look’ and beomgyu gave it back to him. This made you suddenly extremely shy. 

Beomgyu’s movements did not falter as he locked eyes with taehyun. You didn't know what to think but you felt yourself teetering over the edge of an orgasm. You looked to beomgyu and he looked down at you. He knew exactly what you wanted because of the squeezing of his fingers. He just nodded and you leaned against him, letting yourself go. You tried to not make it so obvious but at this point, everyone at the table was watching you look absolutely blissed out. They didn't even want to ask what had gone on because they more or less had an idea. They just stared at you two as beomgyu raised his hand back up, trying not to draw attention to himself from the rest of the restaurant as he licked his drenched fingers.

(part two with a gangbang???? Guys i'm so tempted please make me do it)

[ozzgin]

i hope you can carry four people cause i too want to marry you (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

I had originally planned to respond “who do you think I am, anon” in a manly tone, but I returned later to y’all acting up.

It obviously didn’t change my resolve, but I had to unleash my anime powers to sustain this madness.

But the shenanigans don’t end here! Perhaps as a plot twist to my yandere writer proposal, one anon slid in my inbox with this threatening poetry:

Remains to be seen how we’ll escape this predicament.

Lastly, some of you have - understandably - reached out regarding my stringent requirements.

You may count this as a footnote: geese in a trench coat belonging to another fellow human are allowed. Independently acting geese are the ones banned from entering (they know why).

The ferret offer is indeed tempting, and it shall be discussed during the next HOA meeting (Harem Owners Association).

[sgiandubh]

Alice is blocking people on IG.

Dear Blocking Anon,

I normally could not care less about how she is managing her IG account, but I feel many red lines have been crossed within this entire ahem.. episode.

People claiming to have access to her DMs to fans and no qualms discussing them at length. Unethical, anyone? Bizarre? I have many thoughts and questions, but I will focus instead on what I think could be a plausible explanation for this Cosmic Mess, version 2.0.

We now know he contacted her in DM and followed her IG account on June 13 2024. One more time, I hate to quote myself, but since I posted a LOT (never again, for the sake of this shitshow), may I remind you this tiny detail, perhaps you missed it:

In fact, I should send you back to the big wrap-up post about yesterday's shenanigans, where I theorize the sock account is a well-known troll of this fandom. Who did it before and will do it again.

Also, may I remind you this other tiny detail:

Karina Elle is a common contact. It does ring all sorts of bells, Anon, as to the transactional nature of this new rapport.

Last, but not least, a short trip to my own Archive, Anon:

On June 12th, I posted the stills from TS's concert, Anon. It is my logical and constitutional right to believe S's June 13th expedition to that particular DM inbox was a knee jerk reaction to that. Especially when some bitches took pains to immediately post this on IG, tagging everybody:

What did I reveal, Anon? Something I believe to have been organic couple behavior, in a VIP tent, at a public event (concert), in the darkness.

What was the rebuke, Anon? Something I believe to have been a totally lame and transactional choreography, in a VIP tent, at a public event (tennis tournament), in broad daylight.

It is impossible not to notice the symmetry, here.

So, he 'slid into her DMs', she got all excited, talked to those fans, told them she was invited to LHR by him and then she apparently inexplicably went ballistic and 'hurtful' to them, further down those DMs timeline. Timeline which, according to Marple, is 20 to 26 June. The only reason for that sudden change of behavior would be a conversation with S, who probably thought those fans were shippers. He should know by now NO SHIPPER ever harassed the entourage as consistently and intensely as the Best of Fans did. I think mistakes were made on our side too, but not recently and not by me or anyone I know of. Evidence is the fans who were 'hurt' went to complain to Marple, not me or Bat or anyone else in here, for that matter.

Something happened between June 20 and 26, transforming those two individuals' IG interaction from banter to contract. A trip to London, all expenses paid. Detailed indications on what to wear (YELLOW!) and how to behave. Illogical bursts of affection from her, while he looked disconnected for most of the time, or at least most of the time we were privy to.

Organic, my foot, Anon. And now she's blocking people, you tell me?

She is such a sweet summer child and if this will end well, I am Ingrid Bergman, Anon.

[melodygatesauthor]

What Did You Say? - Part 2 (Steven)

Steven Grant X f!Reader

Part 1 (Marc) - Part 3 (Jake)

There's an anon who came into my inbox asking for a part 2 and 3 of What Did You Say? - Marc drabble so I decided to do it. I had already sort of wanted to so it works! Original ask by @moonknightly

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, light bondage, jealous Steven, rough sex, pussy slapping, p in v creampie, dirty talk, Steven has an attitude, dacryphilia

Word Count: 1.1k

You were right, you were in for a long night of jealousy ridden sex with both Steven and Jake after Marc had tried to put you in your place earlier. Marc had taunted them, and they were watching from the headspace, just chomping at the bit to get you all to themselves. Steven went first. Jake was being, naturally, very, very patient.

“Don’t like what you were sayin’, love.” Steven said coldly when he was fronting.

You looked at him with surprise, not being used to hearing him talk to you like that.

“I just needed someone to take charge Steven, I had a rough day. You don’t have to take it too personal, baby.” You pressed a hand to his bare chest. Marc hadn’t put clothes back on before the switch.

Steven snatched your wrist tightly, “you think I can’t be rough? I know it’s not my specialty but darling…I thought you knew me better than that.”

Steven grabbed your jaw in his free hand and pulled you in for a bruising kiss. His tongue tangled with yours, melting your mouths over and over. He moaned deeply, before separating you and dragging his fingers around your throat.

“S’not Marc or Jake I want you callin’ when you’ve had a tough day, yeah? You can ask for me next time, dove, I know what you need.” His tone was dark. “Go on then, you want it rough? Get on the bed.”

Steven grabbed some patterned ties from the closet while you crawled onto the mattress obediently. You found that your hands were shaking a little from the uncertainty. Steven didn’t normally act like this. You also didn’t normally voice your need for a rough fucking so loudly. He ordered you to behave while he walked over to the bed and brought your knees to your ears, and tied each wrist to each ankle, putting you in a position to be completely open for him.

“Steven, I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“

“Yeah, you’re sorry now love, just need to remind you that there’s three of us yeah? And we all know how to give you what you need.”

You were in a position that had your legs spread and pussy on display for him. Steven crawled onto the bed in front of you, licked his thick fingers and slapped your lips harshly. You winced and hissed. You’d never seen him like this. If this was what Steven was like when he was jealous, you were even more afraid of what would happen when Jake came in.

He spit on your cunt. You felt the saliva trickle down over your tight ring of muscle. You bit your lip, desperate for whatever he was going to give you.

“Are you just going to tease me all night?”

“You’ve got an awful smart mouth don’t you? Need me to tie that up too?” Steven looked at you, waiting for your answer.

“No,” you said breathlessly, “I just want you Steven, please.”

He slapped your cunt again, to which you let out a whimpering cry. Steven’s eyes became heavy with lust. You knew just what to say to get to him. He slid his finger between your folds, gliding it through the juices that had collected there. You couldn’t move to arch your hips into him, you were completely at his mercy.

After what felt like hours of teasing - really only a few short minutes - Steven finally angled himself over you, dragging the length of his shaft between your lips. You groaned when the ridge of his fat tip brushed over your swollen clit. He bit his bottom lip and looked at you. Steven pushed his thick cock into you, slamming his hips flush against your body. You gasped, feeling the length hit you deeper than ever thanks to the new position you were in.

“There you go, love.” He had his arms reaching around your hips so they could grab your waist tightly. “Don’t tell me I can’t give you what you need, s’not true at all, you just never asked did you?”

“N-no I didn’t.” You felt a tear trickle down the side of your face from the overstimulation.

“No you didn’t. How’s it feel? Feels good, yeah? Tell me it feels good, and don’t you dare lie, I can see it on your face.”

“Yes Steven! It-feels-oh my God-it-“

“Come on! I’m just as rough as you need me to be right? Just like the other two? Say it, say I’m just what you need.” Steven was thrusting so harshly, grunting between his words.

“Y-you’re…oh, Steven…you’re j-just-“

“Can’t even talk can you? Never seen Jake or Marc have you stuttering like that.” Steven, for once, had a cocky look on his face that was usually only reserved for Jake.

“S-so good!” You cried out. “It’s so good.”

Your cries were primal while he continued to slam into you harder and harder. You weren’t even saying it for the sake of his ego. Steven was relentlessly fucking you to tears, and he was only getting more rough as time went on. His hands were undoubtedly going to leave a mark with how tightly he held onto your sides.

“Jake’s buzzin’ around now, he’s gonna get you good too love, you shouldn’t have said all that.”

You gasped and cried out when Steven angled himself to reach deeper. You felt like he was close to rearranging all your organs.

“Just wanted-shit-wanted Marc to fuck me harder Steven, I’m sorry!” You squeezed your eyes shut tightly.

“No, no, no, you open your pretty eyes now. Want you to look at me when I make you come darling.”

Within a moment, Steven was plunging in for one final thrust, deep into your core while his cock pumped his hot spend into you. Your walls gushed around him, squeezing tight, milking him dry. Steven’s groans were rough, primal, and like honey to your ears. He’d succeeded, making it near impossible for you to walk right when he’d finally untied you.

“There you go love, let’s see what Jake’s got for you. Maybe next time you’ll think before talking to us like that, yeah?”

Moon Knight Masterlist

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

[rookiesbookies]

So im so upset, i accidentally deleted an ask.

Here’s the sex doll price fic I got asked for, and i outlined out they work my beloved anon, im sorry😭

—————

So I saw your question and I outlined how it works more in this post (if you havent seen it) and Im getting ready to write the Konig piece, however I want to make it really special so im going to hype it up a bit more and here’s a Price one because I felt like writing him!

Price’s story of getting bought goes much like all the other’s. His lady is lonely one night, flips through some infomercials because there’s nothing good on and she figured they’d be entertaining she guessed? It was a better idea than Steinfeld reruns for the fifteenth time, and nothing streaming was updated or good. It was a rare mood.

It came on for the dolls and she fell in love with the way he moved, smiled, his eyes. It was like the tv knew how much she loved the soft eyes of an older man.

She slid off her couch and onto the floor before she punched in the number on the phone to call, saying she wanted Price.

It took time before he was there. She felt different, he has been marketed as a companion robot on the tv. One that could walk, talk, cook, clean. It would be nice having someone to take care of the house while she was at work.

When the mystery box was on her doorstep with the gibberish, she assumed what it was based on the size.

It took a long time of struggling to get it through the door. She tore into it almost immediately. She didnt even get him out of the box before she planted a soft kiss to his lips, just as the commercial said. His eyes fluttered open and she was met with the same soft eyes she first saw.

He was swift. Reconnecting his lips to her and moving out of his box without much effort. She slid back to make room for his large form, when she hit the wall he crawled over her.

“I was told you were a companion,” she said softly eyes, trained on his lips then flicking up to his eyes.

“Companions do lots of different things. There are plenty of different types of companions, love.” His rough hands came up to her face, thumb grazing over her lower lip. “It just so happens to be my directive to be a certain kind of companion.”

Her body felt like it was on air the whole time, like her nerves were cushioned by personal clouds as he worked.

He was swift, putting her on her hands and knees before working off her pants and underwear. His mouth connected with her lower lips and began work. He was delicate but hungry.

Once he got her what he deemed wet enough he used his knee to move her thighs apart, pulling his pants down.

“Breath, love.” He whispered sweetly into her ear after spitting into his hand, rubbing it over his cock, “remember to breath.”

He let it rest in her for a long time. She fell onto her forearms, debating letting her mouth hang open so drool could fall.

He was rhythmic and juicy. Everything she imagined. She was so high up she almost didn’t register she was about to cum until it happened. He didn’t seem to orgasm, surprisingly, but he didn’t seem to care, maybe he did - well she had no clue. He picked her up and wondered her home until he found the bathroom, drawing her bath before washing her gently and putting her to better not long after drying her.

Worth every penny.

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, check out my AU list for more like this. Don’t forget to leave me a comment (i always try to respond) or a request in my inbox (i also try to respond to these when I can), a reblog, or even just a like to let me know what yall want to see!

[mrsmikaelsxn]

ABBA Marathon

masterlist

pairing: father sirius black x daughter reader

warnings: like one curse word, tooth rotting fluff, sirius being an icon, literally just a very fun read that i hope has you smiling in your bed

summary: you meet sirius, play chess with sirius, and have an abba singing and dance party with sirius (sirius meeting his daughter post azkaban - requested by anon)

a/n: im so obsessed with this idk i wish sirius was my dad, also sorry this has been in my inbox for so long

song: waterloo - abba

Being Sirius Black's daughter was quite tiring. But also thrilling. Especially since it was your third year when he escaped Azkaban.

Your best friends are Harry, Hermione, and Ron. You couldn't have asked for better ones.

With the rumors of Sirius coming after you and Harry, people had been cold towards you because of your father, not that you could control who your father was.

Right now you were outside, taking a walk in some fresh air. Suddenly a dog comes up to you and barks once. "Why, hello there," you coo and bend down. The dog happily wags his tail and jumps onto her. "Aww, you're so cute!" 

You pet the dog, who leans into your hand. "You are very skinny," you frowned. "Follow me, I'm sure Hagrid has some food I can give you." 

As you two head down, you get near the Whomping Willow. As you pass by, the dog suddenly spins and before you could blink the dog was biting your pants, tugging you to the tree. 

"Um, excuse me, Mr. Dog, but these are new pants." You then get very close to the tree, "Er- I don't think this is a good idea," you say nervously as the branches of the tree start to move. 

The dog looks up in alert and quickly tugs you into some type of hole that they slid down into. "Ah!" The dog jumps up and pulls on your pants again. "Where are we going?"

Finally, you come into an empty abandoned room. "What is this place..."

You walk over and pick up a dusted book, blowing on the cover before putting it back down. You turn around and her eyes go wider than they've ever been. "AHH!" you scream.

"AHH!" 

"AHH!"

"SHH!"  

You cover your mouth and stare at the one and only Sirius Black.

Your father.

"What the fuck," you whisper to yourself. "Oh my Merlin, I'm too young to die! I- I haven't gotten to slap Malfoy yet, I haven't been able to prank Snape! I ha-"

"Prank Snape?" Sirius pipes up. 

"I'm going to die. Oh, Godric," you pace while frantically whispering to yourself. "I'm in the same room with Sirius Black, alone."

He frowns at being called by his name instead of Dad, which it should be.

"Relax, love, I'm not going to kill you."

You spin and face the man, "You're not?"

"No."

"Then why am I here? For giggles and a tea party?"

"One, you're about to find out. Two, I don't like tea," Sirius makes a face. 

"Huh, me neither. Now, go on, tell me why I'm in an abandoned room with an escaped convicted murderer," you cross your arms. 

"I'm not a murderer. I'm innocent, I swear."

You narrow her eyes, "How so?"

"Well, it started when I first got to Hogwarts..."

You wipe the tears from under your eyes, "That is the saddest thing I have ever heard."

Sirius waves his hand, "Now that you know what happened, you believe me right?"

"Of course!" You throw her arms around the man, who relaxes into his daughters hold. It's been a long time since he has had human contact.

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid you can't tell anyone about me just yet."

"Why?! If I tell them you're inno-"

He smiles sadly, "I'm not so sure they would believe you."

"But-" Sirius shakes his head. You sigh, "Well, are you going to be staying here?"

He nods, "I guess. It's a bit dirty though, if you ask me."

"I can fix that," you grin. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity. You takes out your wand and flick it. The room starts moving and the dust all collects together before flying out the window. The furniture vanishes and new ones appear. Pictures form on the wall and the room cleans up into a brand new, clean room.

"Wow, impressive. Thank you," Sirius says. You nod and flick your wrist again. In the blink of an eye, Sirius is freshly cleaned and looks well taken care of. His eyes almost water at your kindness. "I truly can't thank you enough."

"That's better, isn't it?" You smile proudly at your work. "Oh! You need food," you think for a moment, "I'll just bring you down daily meals."

"I can't ask you to do that, it's too much."

"It's a good thing you don't have to ask. You mentioned your friend... Remus Lupin." Sirius nods and gestures for you to continue, "He's a Professor this year... anyway, is he a..."

"A...?"

"Werewolf," you say hesitantly. 

Sirius' face goes a bit pale, "What makes you think that?"

"His boggart was a moon, and he has lots of light scars."

"Would it change your opinions about him?"

"Not at all! If anything I think it makes him even better." Sirius nods his head. "Yes... he's a werewolf?" 

He nods again, "You're a bright witch."

"Thank you," you beam. You looks at your watch, "I have about twenty minutes before my friends start looking for me. In the meantime.... Wizard's Chess?"

"Yes! Checkmate!" You jump up from your seat in excitement. "I won!"

"That's not fair! You only won because I'm rusty," Sirius crosses his arms and sinks into the couch. 

"Sure, sure. Rematch tomorrow?" you ask. 

"Rematch tomorrow," you two shake hands and you go to the exit. 

"I'll bring you some food in a little while."

"Bye, darling," he waves, watching you leave. 

A few weeks later, you were on your daily trip to see Sirius. You snuck in through the Whomping Willow, you also learned how to avoid the branches. 

"Hello?!" you shout. 

"Over here!"

You follow his voice and see him digging through a closet. "What are you looking for?"

"I- that's... a good question." He stands up and clears his throat, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It has come to my attention that you recently made an appearance in the castle."

"Mhm."

"And you didn't inform me about it beforehand," you gives him a blank stare.

"I wanted to, but it took a while to plan and I wanted it to be a surprise," he grins with jazz hands.

"You do realize that I could have helped you in, right?"

"Yeah, but I didn't want to risk you getting in trouble," he frowns. 

"I appreciate your concern," you salute him and he does it back with a chuckle.

"What's in the bag?" He nods to the one hanging on your arm. 

"This, my furry father-"

"That was a horrible joke."

"-Is a record player!" You excitedly pull it out of the bag and place it on a table. 

"A what?"

"A record player. It plays music. Want to see?!"

"As if I would say no to music."

You reach into the bag and take out some vinyl records. "I picked ones that I think you would enjoy best. There is a supergroup that I thought you would really like. They're called ABBA. They're one of my favorites." 

You set up the record player and place one of the vinyls in. You grin at the man as you hit the play button.

"YOU CAN DANCE, YOU CAN JIVE! HAVING THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE! SEE THAT GIRL, WATCH THAT SCENE! DIGGING THE DANCING QUEEN!"

You and Sirius continue to shout the lyrics into your fake microphones as you hop around the room with the song blasting. When the room was first set up by you, you placed several privacy and silencing spells, so you two didn't have to worry about anyone hearing anything.

"YOU ARE THE DANCING QUEEN! YOUNG AND SWEET, ONLY SEVENTEEN-"

"GIMME, GIMME, GIMME A MAN AFTER MIDNIGHT! WON'T SOMEBODY HELP ME CHASE THE SHADOWS AWAY?" you sing while bouncing on the couch. 

"GIMME, GIMME, GIMME A MAN AFTER MIDNIGHT! TAKE ME THROUGH THE DARKNESS TO THE BREAK OF THE DAY!" Sirius continues as he walks and dances as if he were on a stage. 

"MAMMA MIA, HERE I GO AGAIN! MY, MY, HOW CAN I RESIST YOU?"

"MAMMA MIA, DOES IT SHOW AGAIN! MY, MY, JUST HOW MUCH I'VE MISSED YOU?" 

Sirius and you hold hands as you jump together and flip your hair with matching goofy grins. 

"YES, I'VE BEEN BROKENHEARTED! BLUE SINCE THE DAY WE PARTED!"

"WHY, WHY DID I EVER LET YOU GO?"

"BUT NOW IT ISN'T TRUE! NOW EVERYTHING IS NEW!" you grab your wand to create two pairs of light up sunglasses, you toss one to Sirius and you both put them on.

"AND ALL I'VE LEARNED HAS OVERTURNED! I BEG OF YOUUU!" Sirius sings. 

"DON'T GO WASTING YOUR EMOTION! LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON MEEEE!" you shout together. 

With a flick of your wrist, you - much to Sirius' surprise - somehow managed to have a disco ball with neon lights come from the ceiling. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sit in the Gryffindor common room. 

"I wonder what she's doing right now," Harry looks thoughtfully.

"She's been leaving a lot recently," comments Hermione, biting nervously on her nail.

"I hope she's okay," says Ron, "Sirius Black could be out there."

"LAST NIGHT I WAS TAKING A WALK ALONG THE RIVER, AND I SAW HIM TOGETHER WITH A YOUNG GIRL!"

"AND THE LOOK THAT HE GAVE HER MADE ME SHIVER! 'CAUSE HE ALWAYS USE TO LOOK AT ME THAT WAY!" Sirius grabs your hand and twirls you, causing you to laugh. 

"AND I THOUGHT, MAYBE I SHOULD WALK RIGHT UP TO HER AND SAY 'AH-HA-HA, IT'S A GAME HE LIKES TO PLAYYY!" you and Sirius shimmy dance to each other. 

You jump and freeze before breaking out in another dance and sing the chorus. "LOOK INTO HIS ANGELEYES, ONE LOOK AND YOU'RE HYPNOTISED! HE'LL TAKE YOUR HEART AND YOU MUST PAY THE PRICE!"

"SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS ALL THE TIME!"

"I TRY TO CAPTURE EVERY MINUTE!"

"THE FEELING IN IT, SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS ALL THE TIME!"

"DO I REALLY SEE WHAT'S IN HER MIND, EACH TIME I'M CLOSE TO KNOWING, SHE KEEPS ON GROWING!"

"SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS ALL THE TIME!"

"SOMETIMES I WISH THAT I COULD FREEZE THE PICTURE!"

"AND SAVE IT FROM THE FUNNY TRICKS OF TIME!"

Sirius and you wrap an arm around each other's waist as they sway to the music. 

"SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERSSSSS!"

Sirius then starts pretending like he's playing the guitar to the music making your giggle. 

You and Sirius fall back, panting, onto the couch. Sirius turns to you and gives you a high five. 

"Oh my Merlin! That was the most fun I had in forever!"

"Me too, kid. Thank you. I don't know the last time I felt like that."

"You're welcome," you bumps his shoulder. "Oh! And you can keep everything, I have my own."

"Really?"

"Mhm, I'll bring you more vinyls I have. We can have more singing and dancing parties like this."

"I'm looking forward to it." He looks at a watch you got him, "I think it may be time for you to head back."

You look in a mirror on the wall, "My hair is messy from flipping it."

"I can help you with it, if you want," he smiles at you. 

"Really?" He nods. "Thanks!"

Sirius gets up and grabs a brush, you turn on the couch so he is behind you as he brushes through your hair. "I'm going to try to do that braid you taught me."

"Here's a hair tie," you take one off your wrist. 

He struggles at first but manages to do a good, tight braid. "Done!" Sirius claps his hands. 

You look in the mirror, "Wow, you have a good teacher."

He shrugs, "Meh, she's alright." You slap the back of his head, "Okay, okay! Not the hair! Okay, I have the best teacher." 

You nod happily and grab your bag, "Bye, Dad."

"See you soon, y/n," he winks.

[achaotichuman]

Hello 👋

I hope you're well

Idk if you're taking prompts for fics but if you are, could you please write something for Tarquin from ACOTAR? Could it be something platonic (not sexual at all), him interacting with the other High Lords or yelling at the IC or maybe just expanding on the Summer Court? I feel like there's so little Tarquin-centric fics and i am dying just to get something.

I hope i'm not pressuring you into doing anything tho (and am really sorry if i'm sounding like i am) becoz if you don't want to or want to do something else, that's fine as well. I love your writing and will be happy regardless

Sorry if i'm disturbing you

Helloo!!!

Omg I love this prompt so much!!

Don't ever think you are disturbing me by sending me prompts, I am always happy to receive them!!! And if anyone is ever wondering whether or not I am taking requests, in the pinned post on my blog, it will tell you whether my inbox is open or closed. We def need more Tarquin-centric fics so I am very happy to write this one!!!

Okay so, I definitely wanted fluff and a touch of hurt/comfort, but mostly good vibes. Tarquin's trauma in the books is completely swept under the rug and I absolutely despise it, so here we see a window into him healing from Under the Mountain. Some friendship with Eris and Tamlin, and his relationship with Cresseida and Varian.

I hope you enjoy anon!!

 I’m almost me again, she’s almost you

I got some colour back, She thinks so too. I’m almost me again, She’s almost you. -(Almost (Sweet Music) Hozier

I’m running a circus. Tarquin thought to himself as he watched the three lords around the glass circle table bicker over minor details of the recent High Lord’s meeting. Debating seating arrangements, decorations and who would greet who. Tarquin listened as each Lord gave his opinion, only to be talked over by the other. 

Eventually though, his eyes slid to Cresseida who met his gaze. He gave the slightest of nods, and she plucked a crystal bell from the table. Ringing it loud and suddenly to catch the full attention of everyone in the room. 

Tarquin smoothly stood from his seat, folding his hands in front of him. He said cooly, “We will assess and organise the arrangements as necessary, but first I would like to discuss the logistics of the meeting with my second. For now you are all excused.”

There was a murmuring of ‘yes High lord.’ And general thank you’s for the meeting before everyone began to file out. The door finally clicked shut and Tarquin fell back into his chair. 

Cresseida hid her laugh behind her palm, but couldn’t stop the shaking of her shoulders as she watched her younger cousin practically melt into his chair. 

“What we really need to do is prepare a room as far away from the rest of the Palace as possible. And find some sort of enchanted unbreakable chairs.”

His second nodded thoughtfully, “Perhaps, my lord, we should nail them into the ground so that no one decides it's necessary to use them as an aerial weapon.”

Tarquin faced her with a deadpan expression as Cresseida struggled to reign in her giggles. 

“I swear to the Mother and Cauldron, if anyone ends up getting choked on my floors-”

“We’ll make it mandatory to remove all weapons. And ask Thesan for his spells to ward the room against magic.”

“I think we’d have outrage from the Night Court if we made their spymaster strip off all his weaponry.” He mumbled. 

“Maybe then they won’t come.” Cresseida murmured as she picked at her nails. 

“Cress-”

“It would certainly be a more peaceful meeting then.” She argued. 

“We have to get along with them. If only for Varian’s sake.”

She frowned, “Varian is a love-sick fool. Completely blind, I couldn’t tell you what he sees in her.”

Tarquin waved his hand in dismissal, he didn’t really want to think about his cousin’s love affairs right now. As strange as they may be and as much as he did not understand them. They weren’t his business. 

They were when he found out Varian had been telling Amren Summer’s personal matters. It got him revoked from the Court until Tarquin was completely sure it would not happen again. Since that day, Varian had not been seen in Adriata. And Tarquin didn’t go looking for him. 

“I need a drink.” Tarquin said, standing up and stretching his arms, hearing his joints crack and pop. 

Cresseida stood with him. Her skirts wishing around her ankles. The long, slim flowing blue fabric of the Summer Court billowed in the sea air as they opened the doors. 

Most of the palace was open to the air. The tall stone pillars that lined the hallways, allowing the breeze to waft in. As well as the hot, buttery yellow sun combining with the salt in the air. Tarquin closed his eyes as he breathed it in. 

He had taken it for granted. In his decades before Amarantha came for them, he had taken this all for granted. 

He breathed it in like the salt might burn away the tang of blood which tainted his senses. The thick crimson which had caked Norstrus’ and Brutius’ skin as Tarquin watched them executed. The image was there whenever he dreamt, stained in the sky at sunset, in his the blood rubies he sent to the Night Court after their thievery. 

Tarquin had always hated the colour red, it was too harsh, too cruel, too much like fire for him. It was a stain to the normal whites, blues and gold he wore. 

But after Amarantha, it was a nightmare of itself. 

“Tar?” Cresseida asked, snapping him from his own thoughts. 

Tarquin looked down at Cresseida, her eyebrows furrowed as she watched him carefully.

“Are you okay?” She asked. 

Her eyes were an earthy brown, skin made vibrant and dark by the sun again. She was alive, and so was he. She was breathing and he did too. The scars on her arms from where she had been grabbed by the Attor at times hadn’t faded entirely, and the claw marks down Tarquin’s thighs from when he had been in a grapple with one of the guards who picked on Varian still got sore sometimes. 

But they were healing. They would heal in time. 

“Yeah, Cress.” Tarquin smiled and it was real, “I’m okay.”

She smiled back, and he knew she knew what he meant. 

“We’re both okay.” She took his hand and gave it a loving squeeze. 

“You thought you could escape me.” Her voice was dripping with cruelty as she laughed and laughed, “Did you think I wouldn’t see through your plans, oh Norstrus, you weren’t this dense even when I first entrapped you.”

Cresseida grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight enough to grind the bones, as tears flowed relentlessly down her face. She couldn’t stop them. 

Tarquin squeezed her hand back. 

“I feel like something fruity and full of good alcohol.” Tarquin loudly proclaimed, “And let’s go to the beach, I’ve been in shoes for far too long now.”

Cresseida laughed, “Cousin, you are full of good ideas.”

“Ive more ideas that all of Helion’s libraries combined, you should know this well.” Tarquin grinned. 

Cresseida looked out over their people in the city streets far below, she smiled at what she saw, “Of course, of course.”

Tarquin and Cresseida sat at a busy bar at the beach that night. Tarquin got to lose his shoes and feel the sand under his feet, the sea lapping at ankles. Now he savoured a pineapple drink and watched the ocean sparkling in the deep orange light as the sun began to set. The band of red glimmered at him, Tarquin watched as the colours darkened, the stars beginning to shine from the blanket of darkness high above. 

Cresseida happily sipped on her drink, watching the sunset with her cousin. He wondered if she also saw blood in the sky as he did. 

“I love sunsets,” She said, he looked over to her, to see her eyes trained on the display before them. 

“They’re pretty,” He agreed. 

“They’re unique.” She said, “Not one is the same as another. Just like people, you’ll never see one the exact same as the other.”

Tarquin looked over the sea again, the sky an array of blended colours and dimming light. 

He watched the red as it began to fade, seeing that deep orange-tinted colour as it blended with the pinks, blues, purples, fading into the silvery ocean as the sun fully dipped below the horizon. 

“You know,” Cresseida said, “When you were young, I told you that no sunset is the same and the one we saw that night you would never see again.”

Tarquin rubbed a finger along the lip of his drink, listening intently as he turned to stare into the yellow of his drink. 

“You didn’t like that,” She laughed, “You asked me if we could get on a ship and sail to the horizon, if we could chase the sunset and see it forever.”

He followed the line of his fingers with his eyes, his skin, his wrists, his veins. He saw it all. 

“What did the sunset look like that night?” He asked.

Cresseida sighed dreamily as she thought back fondly on the memory, “It was marvellous, the whole sky was red, even the ocean shone crimson. You were amazed by it. Said it looked like the Mother had dipped a bucket of red paint over the sky.”

He remembered it, he remembered holding Cresseida’s finger with one hand and clutching a stuffed seahorse in the other. He had smiled and pointed at the sky and been upset when Cresseida said he would not see it again. 

Perhaps he had not hated red as much as he thought. 

Amarantha had tainted his memory, dragged jagged claws and left a bleeding scar. 

But blood clotted, and scars healed over. His were no different. 

Tarquin turned to face the sky. He looked at the red band, and saw the Mother’s grand expanse of paints. 

Norstrus’ blood would always haunt his mind. 

But he would look at the sunset, and he wouldn’t be afraid. 

______________________________________________

Music played in the air, a symphony of notes that wrapped around his limbs like hands pulling him forward. The night air was cool, the notes of ocean, fruits and citrus salt blew through his hair and pushed him in all directions. 

Every string was plucked with the celebrations of his lands. Tarquin clutched a flute of bubbling Faerie wine in one hand, watching the dancing Fae, twirling and spinning in long fluttering layers of fabric. A sea of blue and gold, as shining and unbound as the ocean itself. 

The meeting was over and he forgot the stress as he drank deeply from his glass. Swallowing each pale gold drop. A haze settled deep in his bones, making him as free as raging currents coursing through the sea itself. Tarquin didn’t know when or how, but he found himself spinning and twisting in the crowds to the music which wrote and rewrote itself into his soul. Etching this memory into his bones. Burning out the memories of days and nights under a cave’s ceiling, they turned to ashes which blew out into the night with the ocean air, replaced with the view of the stars above, the perfume of his Court, and the smiling, free people around him. 

At some point he spotted Cresseida, she was twirled around by a man he hadn’t met before. She met his gaze and laughed, in a second she was beside him. Grabbing his hands and spinning him around. 

“You got wine on your shirt, dunce!” She laughed, throwing her head back, white curls bouncing around. 

Tarquin stopped his spinning just enough to grab his shirt and look down. And instead droplets had splattered across his pale blue and gold shirt. 

“Oh well!” He laughed with her, grabbing her hands again. 

The night spun away from him, it came back to earth when another set of hands caught his wrists. 

“Cousin!” There was Varian, grinning from ear to ear, drunk on alcohol and the spirit of the crowd. 

“Var!” Tarquin caught him in a tight hug, catching Cresseida’s arm once more and drunkenly pulling her into the embrace. 

The three laughed and danced and drank to their merry heart’s content. Allowing the night to sweep them off their feet, whisking them into the antics of the party. 

At some point, sometime very early in the morning, Tarquin found himself laying across an empty beach, the last rays of moonlight shining down on him, painting the sand in pure silver. The ocean shimmering like the scales of a fish with every tiny wave. His shoes were gone, possibly for good, and his loose pants were rolled up past his ankles. 

He laid supported by his elbows. Watching the horizon as the very first drop of sunlight broke from below the horizon. 

“Well that was a wild night.” A voice he didn’t immediately recognise commented. 

Tarquin looked up to see a head of blond nearly right beside him, supporting a near unconscious pale-skinned redhead. 

“Tamlin,” Tarquin grinned, he glanced down at Eris and raised an eyebrow. 

Tamlin laughed, slowly lowering Eris who swayed with every movement like he’d be sick. 

“Too much Faerie wine for you, Lord of Autumn.”

“It was your terrorising cousin who wished to see me undone who kept shoving a full glass into my hand.” Eris said. 

“Cresseida is a force to be reckoned with.” Tamlin noted, flopping down on Tarquin’s other side. 

“Truer words have never been spoken, Spring,” Tarquin said, letting himself fall back down into the sand. Tamlin joined him. Staring up at the last remnants of the stars. 

“You’ll both come to Spring solstice this year.” Tamlin said, not even an invitation, almost an order. Almost, if Tarquin did not know he had long planned to go regardless of if Tamlin even wanted him to be there. 

“And I’ll be at the Autumn Equinox,” Tarquin noted, “I have to get Eris back for emptying out my cellars by doing the same to him.”

“You’ll never succeed.” Eris responded, laying back with them, looking a little more in control of himself, “If there was anything Beron was good for it was collecting the good stuff. There’s hoards of it that will put your treasure trove to shame.”

“We’ll compare and see who comes out on top then.” Tarquin said with a challenging grin. 

“What new kind of dick measuring contest is this? I’ll have to start my own hoard.” Tamlin laughed. 

“What are you going to hoard Tamlin? Flower crowns? Those would rot in mere days.” Eris snapped. 

“That's why you either dry or freeze them, Eris, then you can keep them forever. I still have the flower crowns my mother had her nieces wear to her wedding.”

“Introduce me to them one day.” Tarquin said, “I’ve heard many good tales about Lady Dahlie Fairburn.”

“My mother was awesome.” Tamlin grinned. 

“Your mother’s awesome? My mother is the most awesome,” Tarquin said, “But your mother can have second place.”

“No, my mother is the most awesome.” Eris said, “Not even a competition, you two can fight over second place.”

“Oh, please,” Tamlin scoffed, “It’s not even a fair contest, Tarquin never even met my mother.”

“What are the three of you bickering over?” Someone else chimed from above. 

Tarquin tilted his head as back as he could to try and make out who stood above them. 

“Mother, you’re just in time!” Eris chimed, clambering to sit up properly. 

Andrea took in a deep breath whilst the observed the three males try and stumble to get up. Dusting sand that stuck to their wine-stained clothes and hair. 

“Come inside the lot of you, you can sleep all this off.” She said, beginning to walk back to the Palace. 

“Wait Andrea! You knew my mother, you can settle this argument.” Tamlin shouted after her. 

Eris, Tarquin and Tamlin got up and started running after the Lady of Day. The soft fluffy sand cold beneath their feet, turning to the stone steps and the rocky cobblestone as they continued to argue. 

Andrea laughed as she listened to the three, her ribs ached as they tried to make her pick who would win their imaginary competition. 

The sun’s rays grew stronger, blue bleeding into the dark as day overtook night. 

Tarquin looked up at the sky and saw the endlessness spread out for all to see. 

Maybe he was stained with the darkness of that depraved mountain forever. 

But right now. 

He was almost him again. 

[sailorshadzter]

Jonsa prompt: Jon is a Targaryen who was with Daenerys in Essos.

HELLOOOO THEREEE.

*insert my usual apology about how long this has been in my inbox*

tbh anon i had to force myself to stop writing, i really love toying with ideas outside my usual settings, so this was really fun. i definitely can see myself writing more for this au!

hopefully you see this!!!!

send me prompts

When the raven arrives, she’s surprised by the seal it holds. 

She blinks, turning it over twice, thinking perhaps she’s only seen it wrong, that there was no way at all that a letter had come bearing the Targaryen seal. However, when she breaks it open, even more surprising is the somewhat familiar handwriting sprawled across the page- her one time husband, Tyrion Lannister, has penned this letter for the foreign queen he’s come to serve in their years apart. 

Reading the words written, she feels her heartbeat quicken its pace, her eyes widening ever so slightly. He writes that his queen, Daenerys Targaryen, intends on sailing for Westeros to reclaim the throne she believes belongs to her. Of course, Cersei Lannister sat upon that throne right now and something tells Sansa she won’t give that up without a fight, no, not without a war. Tyrion writes that Daenerys hopes for her support to claim the Iron Throne, as with her she brings Sansa’s own kin, a cousin born to her long dead aunt Lyanna Stark.

Ah, him.

Sansa has known of Aegon’s existence for many years now, her father had often lamented over not being able to bring the child into their home. He’d been spirited away at the very last moment by his father, sent away to live with his younger siblings Viserys and Daenerys, the latter of the two being just a little older than he was. Due to this, Aegon had lived away from Westeros and his Stark family for all of their lives- truth was, that was better for his safety these days, certainly Cersei would have him killed in his sleep at the first chance. After all, there were many out there who whispered that Targaryen or not, he was the best claimant to the Seven Kingdoms. Save for the North, of course.

“Your grace?”

She jumps at the voice, the letter falling out of her hands and back to the top of her desk. A very flustered Lord Royce stands there, stammering over an apology for startling her. “No mind, my lord, I was so lost in thought I didn’t hear you knock.” 

“I only wanted to let you know the other lords have arrived for the council meeting.” The older man says, her Hand to the Queen, her most loyal of advisors- perhaps the only man in this world she fully trusts. 

“Good, for we have much to discuss,” she says, rising up to her full height, giving the letter she holds a wave. “We are to have visitors.. And soon.” She doesn’t know what the right answer is, but she does know one thing- there would be no fighting back against three dragons, not in a physical fight that was. 

So she will discuss with the lords, but she knows Daenerys Targaryen will arrive all the same. 

[ x x x ]  

It is bitterly cold, but somehow, it feels like home. 

The Northern landscape is beautiful, with its freshly fallen snow drifts and gray skies, wild and wonderful in its own way. Daenerys complains bitterly, but she is a dragon and not built for such temperatures. Overhead her dragons soar through the sky, shrieking and belching fire as they weave in and around one another, surely terrifying the locals that gather to watch the arrival of the first Targaryen in decades. 

“How do you like it?” 

The voice draws him from his own thoughts and he casts his gaze to the right, where Tyrion has slid up beside him on his black horse. “How do I like what?” He asks in reply, never eager to entertain the dwarf’s conversations. 

The imp chuckles, his scarred face twisting with amusement as he leans over, just a little bit closer. “The North, I mean, it should have been your home after all.” Like everyone else, he knows that Aegon was never meant to live the life he has- he should have remained North, in the custody of his mother’s family, never to have his royal blood acknowledged. Instead, just before he was slain, his father had managed to find him and sent him with his most trusted knight to Dragonstone, where Viserys and Daenerys still lived with their nurses and maids. That knight never made it back to Rhaegar before the fighting began and would drink himself to death when the war was over.

“It is as I expected it to be,” Aegon says, flatly, returning his gaze forward. 

“Well, I imagine you are eager to meet your cousin,” Tyrion says next, eyeing the young man with those green eyes. “As am I, we were married, you know.” Aegon turns back to look at him now, arching a brow. “She was quite young, too young, even for me,” he goes on with a dismissive wave of his hand. “From what I’ve heard, she’s been quite unlucky in terms of marriage.” Tyrion had heard of her marriage to Ramsay Bolton and the rumors of what that marriage had cost her… And, in the end, what it had gained her. “My nephew would have been a saint in comparison to her last husband.” Aegon has heard all about the terrible boy king Joffrey, not just from Tyrion, but other men who had fled his rule over the years. “Ah, I see the gates now… I must fetch the queen.” He’s lagging behind now, for the queen rides several yards behind them, surrounded by her loyal Dothraki. 

Sure enough, when Aegon turns to look ahead once more, there’s the gates that will lead them all to a new chapter, a new life entirely. 

[ x x x ]

When the gates open, she’s standing there in her courtyard, looking every inch a Northern Queen. Her hair twisted back in braids, her finest furs draped over her shoulders, she holds her head high as the silver-haired Targaryen queen slides down from her mare with help from an older man she knows must be Jorah Mormont. She has learned the names and lives of all of the men who serve this woman- at least, the best she can, based on old records and the recollection of her lords who once knew these men. She’s learned as much as she can about the Targaryens and their past, more than she’s ever bothered to learn before. None of it prepared her for the sight of the dragons flying overhead, creatures certainly too fearsome to exist, despite them being there in front of her own two eyes. 

She forces herself back to the present, watching as the woman approaches; Daenerys is just a little older than she is and she’s beautiful. Silver hair hangs down her back in soft curls, though she wears elaborate braids and when she smiles, she dimples prettily, but her violet eyes are cold in their gaze, never once brightening up with the smile she wears. “You must be Lady Stark,” she says in an accent she doesn’t recognize- one born in Essos, she supposes- taunting her openly in her own home by choosing to not refer to her as the title she holds. “Thank you for welcoming us into your home.” 

Sansa knows she has but a split second to decide what to do- suddenly, she is fourteen again, caught in this very same game with Joffrey. And just like that, it all comes flooding back. Just like that, she knows what to do. “Welcome to Winterfell, your grace, I hope we can become fast friends.” It does the trick and the dragon queen smiles, again, the light never reaching her violet colored eyes. “I’m certain you are tired and cold from your journey, allow me to have someone show you to your rooms.” 

A moment later, Agatha is there to lead the way, but a single man remains in the courtyard, choosing not to join his queen as she enters Winterfell. 

And at once, Sansa knows who this man must be.

He has the look of her father, the look of Arya, a steady reminder of all she’s lost. “You’re Aegon,” she says without preamble, watching as he flinches, as if the name brings him nothing but pain. As if it is a name not his own, much as she once felt living as Alayne. “You are most welcome here, cousin.” Now that she thinks about it, he is all the family she has left in the world. Gone were her parents, gone were her siblings… The last of the Starks, but perhaps, not entirely. 

A smile crosses his features, foreign, but warm. 

[ x x x ]

He finds her on the battlements the third day of their arrival.

It has been a long three days, full of sharpened stares and venom laced words. Daenerys and Sansa Stark seem as if they will never get along, not that he can blame her, not really. Daenerys was hard to get along with, even for her most trusted advisors, even for him, her only living relative. “Your grace,” he greets, the only one in the Targaryen queen’s entourage to use her true title. “I’m sorry for interrupting.” 

She turns to him then, a smile curving on her lips, the beauty of it striking. “You aren’t,” she assures, gesturing for him to fall into place at her side. He does, their shoulders just barely brushing as she leans forward, gloved hands gripping the railing as she stares ahead into the forest that borders the palace walls. Once, she had jumped from these very same battlements, to run into the forest, to hope to escape the hell that was her life within the walls of Winterfell. “I was just taking a moment before the day began.” She shifts her gaze back to him, only to find he’s already looking her way; the realization of that makes her heart skip a beat. 

She doesn’t know it, but he does the very same thing each day. 

“You are an early riser,” he notes, for the morning call has not even yet sounded, though there she was fully dressed and her hair perfectly pinned. It’s hair so red, so vivid in color, he’s never seen hair such as hers before. The color of it reminds him of a sunset, crimson, yet with gold  woven into the strands. She laughs at this, nodding, her blue eyes bright as she turns to fully face him. 

“Shae hates me for it, but aye, I am.” She replies, thinking of her handmaiden who would always prefer the extra hour or two of sleep, but who never outwardly complained. “I find it is the only way to have any time to myself at all.” The rest of her days are consumed by council meetings, by running the North, by every little in and out of being their queen. It left next to no time for herself, save for these early mornings. “You, too?”

It is his turn to smile, only the second one she’s seen since his arrival- a stoic man, this Aegon seems to be, again, reminding her of the father she’s lost. “Since I was young,” he admits, thinking back to his earliest of days, running through the market streets of Essos with the sunrise warming his back.

“You are a Stark indeed,” she says next, thinking of her father who always rose before the morning call, of Arya and Bran who were always out causing trouble before the sun even rose above the horizon. “My father always said your mother would be out riding her horse before the morning call.” She hasn’t thought often of her long dead aunt, dead before her own birth, but she imagines Aegon must think of her often, must wonder how his life could have been different if only she’d lived. 

If he means to reply, he’s interrupted by the morning call, shrill in the morning cold. “I must go,” she says with an apologetic sort of smile. “Let’s talk again, Aegon.” There it was again, that flinch, as if he hates hearing his own name. He nods then, recovering, offering her a bow any courtier might offer his queen. 

When she heads back inside, she finds her heart is thumping madly. 

[ x x x ]

In the godswood, just after dinner, she finds him.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your prayers,” she says when he looks up at her from his place beneath the heart tree. Somehow, she finds it amusing how they’ve both stumbled across the other today. 

“I’m not praying,” he says, mirroring words she’s said before. “I’ll go, so you can…” 

He means to rise up, but she shakes her head, giving him enough reason to pause. “I don’t come here to pray,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand, closing the gap between them before she sinks onto the ground at his side. For a moment he finds himself staring at her, realizing then how much of a regular woman she was, this Sansa Stark. Queen or not, she was like a normal woman, easy to understand, easy to get along with. Easy to love, some might even say. “I have not prayed in years.” He blinks and in that instance, she was not the bright ray of sunshine she seemed to always be, but rather, a woman wrapped in darkness. A woman full of regrets, full of grief, a woman who had lived through things she could never put to words. 

“Neither have I,” he says softly, thinking how no god has ever answered any of his prayers before. 

Her blue eyes meet his gray and for a long moment, they are two people who understand one another in perhaps a way no one else could. Despite being little more than strangers, they understood the gravity of that feeling, the overwhelming sense of knowing that nobody was listening, no one was hearing their cries. “Can I ask you something?” She asks, her gaze never once wavering. He nods. “You don’t like your name, do you?” 

My name… He thinks about how for all of his life, he’s lived with this Targaryen given name, yet somehow, it has always felt foreign. It has never felt like his own. “No,” he admits, softer now, hands curling into fists atop his thighs. He’s never admitted such a thing to anyone ever before. 

Her eyes soften, rosy lips twitching with a frown. “My father intended to take you in, you know,” she says with a tilt of her head, red hair cascading across her shoulder. Jon nods, again, silent and somber. “He once told me that had he achieved bringing you home, he’d have named you Jon, after our ancestor Jonnel Stark.” Those gray eyes widen, his mouth falling open in silent surprise. “Somehow I find it fits.” 

Jon… Had he remained North, his name would have been Jon Stark, or perhaps Snow, if he’d been passed off as a bastard son. Jon… That could have been his name… It should have been his name. “I might like to call you by that name, if it pleases you,” she says, softer than before, the lightest of blushes staining her ivory cheeks pink. 

“It would,” he says with a nod, watching as her face lights up from within. 

[salemshotspot]

i’m gonna need drew dominating punker

MILLION DOLLAR BODY TEN CENT BRAIN

Drew McIntyre x CM Punk

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

DESC: After 2024's Money In The Bank, Phil needs reminding exactly who he belongs to [based on a clip of Drew speaking to Punk; 'don't lower those eyes, look me in the eyes when you speak to me please']

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ MDNI//Not Proof Read//Characters Acting Out Of Character//A Bit Of Canon Type Asshole Punk//Swearing//Implied Ownership//Generic Pet Names//Choking With A Belt//Collaring With A Belt//Spitting//Masturbation//Dirty Talk//Degrading//Praise//Basically Mutual Masturbation//Punishment//Leg Humping//Brief Descriptions Of Aftercare//Reassurance

RED >> Quote

A/N >> Drop writing requests in my inbox and let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged in future fics

TAGS: anon @jobikinn @maskedhydra @lea22hp @xxrabiesxx

Enjoy!

——————————————————————————

Drew knew that Phil was cocky by nature, he always has been and most likely always will be and Drew couldn't help but find it embarrassingly attractive; however, since their on screen feud began Phil's ego, his cockiness, had been getting out of hand. The two men had just arrived home after their segments in money in the bank, it had gone just as they had planned; Drew won his money in the bank briefcase and Phil turned up to ensure his partners win meant nothing by the time he was finished with him. Drew would never openly admit it but he loved their on screen dynamic, seeing Phil take charge on their on screen relationship knowing full well when the cameras stop rolling and it's just the two of them Phil was nowhere close to taking charge and Drew needed to remind him of that.

'Don't push it' Drew's voice echoed in a warning tone to which Phil chuckled; 'I'm just saying' Phil began, 'I don't think you'd be getting as much screentime if it wasn't for me.' Drew's eyebrow instinctively rose as he turned to Phil who had a smirk plastered across his face, 'it makes sense you know? Obviously you're great in the ring but no one can compete with me, they love me' Phil beamed. Drew knew Phil was just being an asshole, he was just stroking his own ego, but that didn't stop a light anger from growing in Drew's chest, he needed to remind Phil exactly who he was speaking to right now, exactly whose presence he was in.

Standing up from the chair he was sat in, Drew silently walked over to Phil, causing his eyes to widen at the sight of Drew walking over to him with an unreadable expression. As Phil fell silent as Drew grew closer Drew mockingly laughed 'no no carry on, keep telling how you are God's one and only gift to earth.' Phil stayed silent, feeling himself grow subtly aroused by Drew's presence now looming over his shrinking form. Grabbing Phil's chin and gently tilting it upwards, Drew suggested in a whisper, 'I think somebody needs to remember who he belongs to.' A light blush covered Phil's face which caused Drew to smirk, he could never grow tired of how innocent Phil's desperate eyes looked up at him.

Sitting down, Drew unbuckled his pants as he instructed Phil to sit on the floor, he needed his beautiful boyfriend at his mercy, he needed him clinging to his leg as if it was his one and only lifeline. As Phil settled on the floor, Drew's seated body towering over him making him feel ever so small, Drew slid his belt out of the hooks of his jeans before sliding the warm leather through his hands, his eyes agonisingly slowly darting between the belt and Phil's pale throat. 'So you want to use that pretty mouth to stroke your fragile little ego?' Drew mockingly questioned as he squoze the leather belt with his left hand, causing Phil to gulp in anticipation. 'No, I don't think that's the best use of that mouth darling, I think I'll be controlling what that mouth does until you learn how to use it properly' Drew muttered as he leant forward, effortlessly tightening the belt around Phil's throat. Before Drew moved any further he got his pointer and index finger and slid them between Phil's throat and the belt, ensuring that the man had enough space to breathe comfortably. Sensing Drew's subtle worry Phil ensured him that it wasn't too tight against his throat, causing Drew to hum happily, his fear leaving him.

Suddenly, Drew placed his free hand in front of Phil's face before commandingly uttering the word 'spit' to which Phil mindlessly obliged. Drew lightly chuckled at how desperate Phil was to obey him as he took his spit covered hand and slowly wrapped it around the base of his cock. Drew let out a breathy groan as he slowly slid his hand up and down the length of his cock; 'see how much good that mouth of yours can do sweetheart' Drew stuttered out as precum began to leak from his cock causing Phil to whimper, desperation rapidly taking over his senses.

Refusing to relent on his chase for his own pleasure Drew chuckled at how pathetic Phil looked at his feet; 'would you look at yourself, so desperate, I bet you don't even know what for do you? You see my cock and suddenly you can't even form a thought can you?' A deep blush covered Phil's face as Drew spoke, he couldn't argue with Drew, he knew he was right; feeling his own cock strain against his pants Phil desperately moaned out 'p-please.' 'Please what? Use your words sweetheart' Drew mocked. A wave of embarrassment washed over Phil, causing him to lower his head, feeling as if he hid his face Drew wouldn't hear the desperation in his voice

'Please Drew I nee-' Phil's plea was abruptly cut off by Drew who, with his free hand, yanked on the belt which encased Phil's neck, not letting up on his grip as he spoke, lightly choking Phil as well as forcing his eyes to meet his; 'don't lower those eyes' he commanded, 'look me in the eyes when you speak to me please' Drew 's gruff voice echoed throughout the room. Unable to look away from Drew due to Drew using his belt to force eye contact Phil swallowed his pride and choked out a string of desperate pleas; 'please Drew I need to feel you, I-I need you.' Drew gently pulled on his belt, bringing Phil's face mere centimetres from his own; 'how pathetic' Drew cooed, 'now after today I don't really think that desperate body of yours deserves this cock, seeming as though you're so much better than me you won't want it will you? You must be so great you can get yourself off all by yourself right?' Drew mocked as Phil mentally kicked himself for his earlier bragging which didn't seem worth it it now, his ego was boosted for a mere matter of minutes but for what? Just for him to end up practically groaning from the pain of his erection as his boyfriend, instead of helping him, uses it as a learning opportunity; Phil quietly cursed to himself under his breathe, he'd do anything to have his boyfriend right now in any capacity.

Seeing Phil mentally deconstruct himself was something Drew took sick pleasure in in moments like these, it was almost to have him falling apart himself. Gently pushing Phil back to the ground, momentarily releasing his hand from the belt a menacing smile grew on Drew's face before sighing; 'even now I bet you're far too focused on the blood rushing to your cock to think straight, so hungry for my cock', Drew's voice grew lower, 'but you don't deserve my cock, you can work your way up to that honour starting down there like a good, cock hungry slut.' Blushing, Phil cocked his head to the side like a curious dog, desperate to comprehend exactly what Drew was permitting him to do.

Drew meanly chuckled, 'are you so desperate to feel me you can't even understand when I'm giving your needy, sorry self a chance to prove to me you deserve to ever even see this cock you're so desperate for again.' The empty threat which fell from Drew's lips caused Phil's heart to momentarily drop before Drew finally revealed to Phil exactly what he was getting at; 'you need me so bad huh? Well you can use my leg to fuck your little brain out.' A deep blush covered Phil's face as his desperation clouded his senses, instinctively grinding his throbbing cock against Drew's leg as Drew chuckled, throwing his head back as he continued to stroke himself as Phil desperately rutted against him. As Phil let out a low string of whines, grunting, Drew mocked; 'does that feel good? Are you so needy all it takes is my leg to make you fall apart? You better get used to it pet because it's going to take you a long time to work your way back up to be allowed this cock.'

Blush deepening, Phil buried his face in Drew's lap, 'please, p-please' he desperately whined, with a light chuckle Drew responded, a brief softness washing over the man; 'you're doing so good baby, tell Drew what you want hmm?' With his senses becoming overwhelmed all Phil could do was whine as he frantically attempted to relieve himself against Drew, Drew comfortingly shushing Phil's whines were enough to send Phil over the edge; tightly gripping at Drew's leg as his orgasm finally hit, debilitating pleasure washing over the man as Drew instinctively ran his fingers through Phil's hair.

Once Phil had come down from his high he looked up at Drew, his eyes still clouded by lust, who was still gliding his hand up and down his cock in an attempt to chase his own high. Once sure Phil was ok, Drew lightly pulled on the belt around his throat, once again pleasantly choking him before speaking; 'you were that desperate to cum for me huh?' To which Phil quickly nodded, still pulling on the belt Drew continued, 'tell me how much you need me, tell me that you belong to me' Drew stuttered out. 'I'm nothing without you Drew' Phil began, 'you're the only person that can make me feel this good.' Close to his climax Drew moaned out, 'oh fuck- that's right baby you're all mine.' Phil watched as Drew's strokes grew more sporadic, watched as his eyes began to roll back into his head, he knew Drew was painfully close to his climax. Gently placing his head on Drew's lap, Phil softly whispered 'I love you'; those three words were more than enough to finally push Drew over the edge, all of a sudden his head was fully thrown back as his cock began to pulsate, coating itself in its own thick, white seed. His muscles tightening causing him to inadvertently begin pulling on the belt fashioned around Phil's throat once more, Drew stuttered out a string of curses, his breathing rapidly becoming more shallow.

Once his breathing had returned to normal Drew effortless pulled Phil from the floor onto his lap as he began undoing the belt around his throat before placing a gentle kiss to his forehead, his eyes scanning his body as he noticed the large, quickly drying stain on Phil's crotch. As Phil averted his eyes due to a subtle embarrassment Drew gently used his thumb to bring Phil's gaze back to his own; 'how about we go get you cleaned up darling?'

——————————————————————————

A/N >> Sorry this has taken so long to get out I hope it was worth the wait! If you've requested any fics I haven't forgotten about them, I've just got a lot waiting to be written

[brotherwtf]

I’m not sure if you take random self made prompts from anons but I thought I’d ask anyways because I love your work :) with the olympics ending I was wondering if you’d considering writing a sweet moment between the buckies to “where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me”! Honestly doesn’t even have to be olympics based, because John Egan your 2 o’clock is pretty much that entire lyric but if it inspires you I’d love to see famous/semi famous Clegan running to one another as the crowd watches on!🥰🥹

of course I do!! honestly if y'all just want to send random ramblings in my inbox I am glad to just listen to y'all yap ;))

I have a couple of Olympics hcs here, but I've been wanting to write a drabble for it!!

----

John sat on the side of the rink with his hands clenched on his lap, watching as Gale gracefully slid onto the ice and took his place for the beginning of the routine. He watches as Gale's jaw clenched, exhaling a breath before returning to his starting position, arms poised above his head.

The music starts, and John's heartbeat quickens, watching as Gale gracefully slid across the ice. The music was a tormented tune, something rough and carnal, but nevertheless beautiful in the end, and John was completely enraptured with Gale. He mastered the first jump, something with a kick and a twirl in the air all while John's breath stopped when he left the ice.

The music swelled into something jagged and tortured and John knew this was the biggest jump Gale was going to do in the entire routine, also knew that this was where he had struggled during practice. He could see Gale's eyebrows furrow as he glided into position, poising his skates so he could flick him up into the jump.

John clenches his snow pants, too concerned about missing Gale's event to even discard them in the locker room after his event.

The world seems to slow as Gale's skate kicks up on the ice, sending him into a perfect spiral in the air. John holds his breath, gripping his snow pants so hard he might just rip them, and then Gale lands.

He lands perfectly, kicking his leg out behind him and extending his arms, and John can see the grin spread on Gale's face when he's realized he's done it.

John jumps up with the crowd, realizes they're all cheering and screaming for Gale, and he almost starts to cry from how fucking proud of him he is. The rest of the routine is a blur, but John cheers and claps and shouts the entire time until Gale stops in the middle of the ice again, panting and smiling the biggest smile John has ever seen.

Technically, John wasn't even supposed to be in the rink. He had snuck in behind someone's coach and was sitting on the sidelines, cheering Gale on. He definitely wasn't allowed on the ice, but he found himself slipping onto it when Gale's routine ended.

People were throwing things onto the rink, flowers, stuffed animals, pictures, but John was only focused on getting to Gale, had his eyes honed in on him in the middle of the rink. He couldn't move very fast, he was slipping on the ice every other step, but when Gale saw him it was all worth it.

His eyes are glassy and his mouth splits into the happiest smile John has ever seen on him. He's holding a bouquet of roses that someone threw onto the ice and he skates towards John gracefully, a very different picture to how John must look bumbling on the ice towards Gale.

John embraces him in a firm hug, tries to keep his footing and not fall face first onto the ice below him, and loves the feeling of Gale hugging him back. He doesn't realize they're laughing until Gale pulls away from the hug and looks in John's eyes, face crinkled into a smile with tears welling over his eyes. John doesn't even think before he kisses him, forgets they're in front of a crowd of people.

Gale kisses him back with enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around John's shoulders with the roses in his hands and pulling him in closer. John loses himself so much in Gale's lips that he doesn't realize when he's starting to lose his footing and he's dragging Gale down onto the ice beneath them.

They fall roughly, but Gale is still laughing and smiling below John, taking one of his hands from around his shoulders and cupping his cheek. John almost forgets they're in an ice rink until he hears the cheers and laughter from the audience, and he's pulled from his moment with Gale.

Gale, professionally John must admit, pulls John up from the ice and waves at the crowd, blowing kisses and bowing, planting a comically large kiss on John's cheek which makes John grin from ear to ear. He hooks John onto his arm and skates to the edge of the rink, helping John onto the ground before following him out.

John's so giddy he kisses Gale again when his coach comes over, laughing big and bright because he's so fucking proud of Gale, can't even begin to express it with words.

And when Gale wins the gold medal, near perfect score for his routine, John kisses him again, grabbing the backs of Gales thighs and lifting him up. He spins him around, kissing him and laughing and just so fucking happy, feels the joy that Gale must feel by the way he kisses him back with such intensity and fervor that John feels like he might fall over.

Back in their shitty beds in the shitty rooms at the shitty Olympic Village, they may or may not have some banging sex with both of their gold medals hanging from their necks.

lmk if y'all want to see more from this au! I kinda forgot about this one it got a little buried lmao