#as in - it can be very interesting and/or hot to keep it a secret and KNOW that you're not supposed to do what you're doing

[chimchiri]

Hii WB anon here and I'm back again!! Saw your posts about spitdash and oh my god, I love the way you actually acknowledge the unfortunate power dynamic and found a way to make it work!! I think it's very romantic how Spitfire chose to step down in order to date rainbows dash, it's adorable!! As always your art and headcanons are great. Speaking of headcanons!! Since you've mentioned soarin and spitfire dynamics a few times, can we have more about them/soarin as a whole? I do not remember if I've mentioned it in the last ask but soarin is my personal favorite, I have a closer bond to him since he's the reason I got into the wonderbolts in the first place. So I'd love to see if you have any headcanons about him (fyi I will probably go back into your ask box to ask about the others but for now we're focusing on soarin he needs his moment to shine)

You hold a special place in my heart for asking about the WB, Soarin and Spitty... Oof long text incoming about them!

One recurring hc I have is that they're childhood friends - even platonic soulmates.

I hc Spitfire to have had a lot of trouble making friends as a kid. Mainly because she had way too much energy, an insane competitive drive and quite the anger issues. She didn't have anything against other kids per se, she wasn't just mean. But her natural talent for flying and quick frustration when others wouldn't do as she wanted (like a partner not giving it their all during a race or a slower runner making it hard for her to pass them during a run/race) were a toxic combination and made her explode regularly. Hearing her shout and stomp in frustration wasn't uncommon. Naturally, kids used to avoid and/or gossip about her, even if she tried to find some friends and help others get to her level so they could do some friendly racing or sparring. Some kids may have provoked her, which would usually result in a brawl or some form of violence depending on the other kid's attitude, as soon as she felt her pride was harmed. Ultimately she didn't want to harm other per se. She was just hyper-focused on running, flying, anything adrenaline, and had a lot of trouble managing her emotions.

Insert Soarin: I mentioned that he definitely loves a good race and winning as much as the other Wonderbolts - a quality anyone has naturally in that position. But outside of a race, I hc him as the softest, most relaxed, and also most tired guy there is. He really just encapsulates this meme for me (just imagine there are also dark circles)

He's docile, friendly and (as a kid) very agreeable - which unfortunately, resulted in him having trouble finding true friends as well and getting bullied. While he got to tag along, he was often the butt of a joke due to his soft nature. Being used as a water boy or personal butler also was daily routine, which he accepted with a heavy heart. I hc Soarin to have a strong sense of justice and having very developed empathy even as a kid. He's a thinker, a strategist. He observes, notices and concludes. He's not stupid. He knows and can tell the other kids don't really like him and treat him badly, but he just wants to have some friends. Plus, he's not very courageous (as a kid) and doesn't want to face arguing and fighting. He just wants to be included.

His "friend" group doesn't like Spitfire and definitely called her a crazy devil. Soarin initially only heard bad and frankly, quite intimidating things about her. But after meeting her he quickly concludes that she's not a real threat and just has some trouble with her anger. But she's trying to be helpful and outside of any competition is actually rather calm and nice.

There's no specific hc how they met but it was definitely Soarin who tried to initiate contact and a friendship. And Spitfire who was probably wary about him due to his friend group. I love to think they connected very quickly and balanced each other out well. Soarin was the first kid who would race her no matter how often he'd lose and not get annoyed or angry at her. Which was because he immediately noticed that she doesn't like to put others down - she just loves to race, win and get better. After a while he also realized, that she loves any kind of improvement, really. Not just her own. She'd give him tips, train with him and would also get just as excited when he got better. She just loved adrenaline, training and most importantly - seeing improvement and success. For her or others. It's something Sptifire never noticed herself and it was Soarin who, years later, would mention it and ultimately be the reason why she would end up as captain of the Wonderbolts.

Kid Spitfire would be good for Soarin too: not only standing up to anyone who treated him badly, but also getting him to speak out for himself and say out his thoughts out loud.

Honestly, I just love them getting each other. Even when they're completely different in character. They look at each other and they just know. They know when the other is unwell or when there is something off. There is almost no secret they can keep from the other. They know what the other needs, wants, desires. And by adulthood, they'd trust each other with their life. UGH I really really love them as platonic soulmates.

They walk side by side in each others lives. They're a perfect match and in the Wonderbolts, as captain and deputy, they're an almost unstoppable team. Not only because they trust and care about each other like no one else, but also because they both can separate work from their personal feelings. They're both able to make decisions that may be unpleasant for their friendship but greatly benefit the Wonderbolts.

A characteristic also great in arguments btw: Just because they understand and get each other doesn't mean they always agree with each other. I imagine they definitely get into loud arguments. Soarin can be just as stubborn as Spitfire in some aspects, especially when he thinks he has the correct facts and logic on his side. (It's the stubborn, analytical science side of his.) Though for them, it's easy to not take arguing personal. They may get frustrated but they can clearly differentiate that the topic at hand is the problem and each other. So it's not uncommon for them to be arguing and shouting at each other and having casual, friendly lunch 15 min later. Something that the other Wonderbolts definitely have a hard time understanding.

Some last points: Soarin has never had any jealousy towards Spitfire, neither as a kid, nor as her deputy. And maybe it's exactly because of this why she's made him deputy and then captain after her departure. I imagine her stepping down (for romance of all things, which he later learns) is the first thing he truly, never ever saw coming. He's usually great at reading and anticipating her. But this? It takes him by COMPLETE surprise and he definitely has a very hard time accepting it. It's like a surreal fever dream. He may even have a small crisis, thinking that she'll be gone for good after - just leaving him behind. This fear probably takes a LOT of reassurance from Spitfire to calm him down again.

I've written way too much already, so I'll just end it with two short hcs:

1) He's got trouble with sleep and insomnia since teenage years. It's often a joke with friends or later on in the WBs. Jokes he usually goes along with or even initiates. Spitfire is one of the few people who know that it's more than just jokes, and that some days it really takes a hard toll on him. They used to share beds - which helped Soarin sleep - and still sometimes do in the WBs. Which also leads into:

2) In some AUs, I hc they did have some flings and physical/sexual experience with each other. But the details are too much and complex to write out and too nsfw to include into this post.

[k6tzie]

COD P☆RN LINKS | PT. 3

ghost: always so quiet and reserved, seeing you like this is refreshing. so humane having ur guts rearranged after doubting your lieutenants skills! dove, you're so needy. but luckily for you, you have a patient, big bf came back from prices' baby shower now u and si want a baby of ur own, but u can't wait:( doughy ass bouncing on his long cock that no one's sucked in over a year, thankfully now ur here! sharing the captains daughter with soap<3 trusting is hard for him, so once he has you, he doesn't wanna let go warm winter fuck with ur gentle boy price: once you taught olderbf!price how to make hotter videos, he thinks he's so much cooler but that old man lives within him💔i mean look how he's holding the phone! you feel a big, throbbing thing in your tummy, hopefully he doesn't press down on it D: when u took him to meet ur parents, you just looked too good not to fuck afterwards :( as much as he loves his quiet girls, he can't say no to a bubbly one night stand now can he he didn't wanna have to do this but this IS what bad girls get... dadsfriend!price taking you upstairs during the bbq. there's so many people so no one will hopefully notice ur gone... soap: totally something soap would do, fucking you levitating 😭 first time having a crush this intense, taking sneaky photos of you, drawing you in his sketchbook, leaving you little gifts anonymously - now that you gave him a chance, he's too shocked to even do anything! honestly his dream is hot gf x loser guy he's a messy boy who likes his sex quick! so so much cum dripping out, it's like your boys' in heaven filthy gym partner can't keep his hands to himself only one person can eat you this well when you're sick, soap! gaz: your drunk sex was so good, you won't forget it even when you're sober <3 appreciating that pussy with the love and tongue it deserves so wet and tight like ur ex boyfriend did nothing at all smh, must've been tiny deeeeep in ur gfs womb! pretty boy barely ever gets angry, but when price has been on his back the whole week, and now you're giving him attitude - he can't take it anymore! hot belly bulge - who would've thought from the serene, goofy guy? graves: ah, so THAT'S how you passed recruitment i see, interesting... what a baby, never been with a real woman. actually a very soft, sensual man. don't mistake him as rough cuz of how he acts at work lucky shadow of the week gets to record the barracks bunny and graves kept trying to draw milk out of you but he didn't realise not everyone just...lactates :(he can't stop rewatching this video y'all took, how your greedy pussy just swallows his dick whole :o purposely just teasing you so he can see u angry konig: an efficient way to wake up his beautiful baby✨ his cold tongue and your warm socks make an interesting contrast🤔 he caught you masturbating all by yourself and you didn't seem to reach ur full potential :( loser!konig coded, once he finally gets his rough hands on you, it's hard letting a beauty like you go ruined ur cute little panties smh, greedy big boy mean colonel punishing his secret fuck buddy after he found out you've started talking to another person💢 bonus!!: surprise ;)

@xtrrdnrypotato @livingdead-g1rl

[saltymarshmall0w]

Danny Phantom Zombie Apocalypse x Corpse AU

Basically, when the Ghost-zombie apocalypse happens thanks to a ghost virus, Danny gets infected. He “dies” again, so the most obvious course of action is for Phantom to possess Zombie!Fenton and try to pass off as human.

He can only use his extremely helpful ghost abilities if he discorporates, leaving zombie!Danny to the mercy of his enviorment. Otherwise, he has to use his corpse to try and blend in with other survivors.

He also has to hide the fact that he is a carrier of the disease(He can’t share water bottles, have much physical contact, or bleed on them), he no longer eats much, bleeds ectoplasm, and other zombies are disinterested in him. *Note, Phantom wouldn’t spread the disease, only Fenton’s body is infected. If he wants physical contact, he has to trust the other person with his secret.

Zombie!Fenton doesn’t have much interest in eating brains, as the ectoplasm Phantom produces fuels him. So, he’s basically a goldfish that just moves around aimlessly.

Without his human half, Phantom is also more limited in how much he can interact with the real world. He has to tug his human half around on one of those kiddie backpack leashes to ensure he doesn’t accidentally lose his body. He doesn’t have the strength to pick him up and carry him around. He can /maybe/ phase another person through a door.

Good thing Zombie!Fenton is very easily distracted and can occasionally be convinced to sleep.

–

World-building time!

Amity Park was ground zero for the virus, which was a mild infection that ghosts could get. However, once spread to humans, the virus ate the naturally occurring ectoplasm in the human’s brains, leaving them brainless aggressive monsters. (Think the possessed hot dogs from The Fenton’s fridge)

The Ectoplasm keeps the human parts together until eventually all the human flesh is entirely absorbed by the ectoplasm and all that remains is a ghost-monster thing. (this process takes at least a year).

The number one most effective way to kill a zombie is ecto-weapons, a good bashing to the skull can take them out for a while, but some might recover. .

Phantom is ~extra~ despised because most people believe the virus spread due to ghosts like him interacting with humans. The cause of the infection would be much angstier if it was a result of humans (The Fentons, GIW, Vlad) fucking around and finding out

Both Phantom and Danny no longer age. Danny’s human body doesn’t heal wounds unless you count glowing ectoplasm stitching his skin back together as healing. He also has a glowing green and sluggishly bleeding bite mark he constantly has to worry about.

When Phantom is possessing Zombie!Danny he is easily passable as a human, he just has to cover any features that show he’s no longer, like, alive.

One of Danny’s goals is to find a cure. However, he is not exactly… smart, but knows a lot about ectoplasm. He’s convinced if he finds a group of survivors with the right equipment that they mutually trust, they can find cure or vaccine together. His parents died/disappeared too early to finish one.

Anyway, the angst and the shenanigans potential are endless. Bonus points to anyone who can incorporate DP x DC into there.

[importantpuppystarfish]

Total Mass Destruction of Wonyoung!

Male reader or Y/N x Wonyoung

Warning: Very much hardcore & rough, humiliation, degrading, whipping, BBC, extreme deepthroat, total mess in facefucking, pissing & gangbang (in pt2)

Note: please this is all just a fantasy for reading and stuff, this can be uncomfortable to read so if ur weak hearted or a fluff enjoyer, typically do not read.

part one:

Wonyoung, the gorgeous Kpop idol, with her stunning visuals and captivating stage presence, she has millions of adoring fans around the world.

But she has a naughty secret - she's obsessed with big black cock. Her stash of videos consists entirely of BBC gangbangs. She fantasizes constantly about being stuffed and breed by multiple strong black men. Her skinny Korean frame aches to feel the immense girth and length only they can provide. Yet she keeps this side of herself hidden from her cutesy idol image.

While in the US for her group's performances, Wonyoung can't hold her curiosity any longer. She decides to go to a popular nightclub known for bringing out the biggest, blackest cocks in town. Her heart races thinking about finally living out her fantasy. She slips out of the hotel after wearing a revealing outfit to show off her famous figure, ready for anything.

Wonyoung is not a virgin anymore and has already been intimate with her own family members, satisfying her brother and father already. Now she burns with desire for something new - the bbc which she sees in porn videos.

She sees a huge smart guy approaching her. He's wearing a suit and handsome.. The guy welcomes Wonyoung to the area and asks her if she is new and where is she from.

Wonyoung's heart leaps as she spots the imposing figure of the well-dressed, rich-looking black man. She steps closer to make out his deep, rumbling voice.

"Oh I just arrived here from Korea," Wonyoung responds sweetly with a flirtatious bat of her eyelashes. "My name is Wonyoung. And you?"

She can feel something stir behind his suit as he looks down at her body up and down. A knowing grin spreads across his face.

"Pleasure to meet the beautiful Korean princess Wonyoung," he purrs, extending a large hand. "I'm Y/N."

Wonyoung gets excited when she hears his deep voice and sees his big hands… Wonyoung replies "Pleasure to meet u too. What do you do?"

"I'm a business and an influencer from California," Y/N says mysteriously, sending Wonyoung's interest soaring even higher. She realizes the guy must be very more richer than her.

Wonyoung feels his hot breath on her ear and shivers. "How old are you beautiful?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"19 and you?."

Y/N grins. "19? Haha I actually expected that. You do look like a young teenager." Y/N chuckles. "A girl should be curious about a man's age. I'm 35 but don't let that fool you, I've got the stamina of a much younger man."

"Interested to go and eat something somewhere private?" He whispers, his voice husky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they develop a positive relationship, Y/N takes Wonyoung to an upscale sushi restaurant where they enjoy a private dining experience. He orders expensive champagne and sushes her questions about herself while blatantly checking out her body. Wonyoung flirts shamelessly in return, feeling giddy and alive. She's living out her fantasy – seducing an older, wealthy black man. By dessert, his hand rests high up her thigh under the table. Wonyoung doesn't know whats coming next.

As they have few conversations on the date, y/n takes Wonyoung to his place after the date. They enter the luxurious penthouse. Wonyoung's eyes widen at the view of the city and how rich Y/N is.

Wonyoung follows Y/N into his stunning penthouse, amazed by the opulence. She turns in a circle, taking it all in – the floor-to-ceiling windows, marble floors, expensive artwork on the walls.

"Your place is incredible," she breathes out. Y/N leads her to his bed. Wonyoung is amazed to see such a huge bed. Wonyoung asks if he stays alone.

"Yes sweet thing, I stay here alone." He confirms, sitting down on the edge of the huge bed and patting the space next to him for Wonyoung to join. "My last few girlfriends couldn't handle being with an older, successful black man. They ran scared."

Y/N gives Wonyoung a smug look, his eyes roaming over her body possessively.

"Oh damn? How many girlfriends do u have?", Wonyoung asks curiously. "Let's see… I lose count after a dozen or so. Different women but they all want this but couldn't handle me." He gestures down at his crotch, bulge visibly straining against his pants. "I'm assuming you don't get intimidated easily?"

He reaches out to trace a finger lightly along Wonyoung's thigh.

As Wonyoung sat near him. She feels so small next to him. "Haha, I only had sexual stuff with my own brother." Wonyoung says.

Y/N's eyebrow shoots up at Wonyoung's admission but a hungry look fills his eyes. "Is that right? Your own brother eh?"

He grabs her chin firmly, tilting her face up to look at him. "And what about your daddy? Did you play with him too?" He asks bluntly, his deep voice sending a shiver down Wonyoung's spine.

"You're quite the naughty girl aren't you?"

"Wait how did u know? Yes…but i didnt feel like mentioning it.." She admits sheepishly.

Y/N chuckles darkly, clearly thrilled by Wonyoung's confession. "Baby you don't have to hide anything from me. I love that sweet little mouth of yours has been used so much already."

He pulls her closer by the hip until she's straddling his lap. "Mmm and now I get to use it."

One big hand cradles her jaw again as he draws her into a deep interracial forceful kiss, staking his claim on the young Kpop idol.

Wonyoung kisses back deep. They start french kissing. It's Wonyoung first time kissing with a black guy.

Y/N groans against her lips, tasting her sweet innocence. As he explores Wonyoung's mouth, his large hand slides under her top, palming one of her perky breasts over her bra.

The contrast between Wonyoung's petite frame and Y/N's muscular form is stark as they kiss. She sits tiny and delicate on his lap, his dark hand standing out against her fair skin as he fondles her. Their mouths move hungrily together, Wonyoung's small lips parted allowing his tongue inside. She clings to his broad shoulders as they French kiss, her face flushed with excitement. Y/N devours her young lips, clearly dominating the kiss, making it clear who is in charge.

Y/N grabs Wonyoung tighter. She feels his strong arms wrapped around. She can feel his chest too. Wonyoung feels so small, so breakable in his arms.. Y/N tears her outfit. Wonyoung is shocked as her outfit gets torn so easily, also it was very expensive.

"I'm going to ruin you darling…" Y/n growls, making no move to stop the destruction of her outfit.

"B-but Y/N…this is Gucci!" Wonyoung exclaims in shock, referring to her ripped top.

Y/N laughs at her. "I've got hundreds of thousands of gucci outfits more expensive tied up in this place and those clothes would also look good on you but still they doesn't suit you. Naked does."

He stands suddenly, holding Wonyoung by the wrists, he pushes Wonyoung on the bed and tears off all her clothes.

Wonyoung starts to feel uncomfortable as her outfit is totally torn and destroyed. Lying there completely exposed beneath Y/N makes Wonyoung feel incredibly small and vulnerable. His dark form looms over her petite frame as he begins unzipping his pants, freeing his massive, throbbing erection.

"You're u scared and skinny.," he purrs, kneeling between her thighs. "I'm gonna tear you apart now."

He runs his fingers roughly over her inner thighs, gradually moving closer to her folds.

Y/N is way too strong for Wonyoung. She feels like a fragile sex doll in front of him. He could easily crush her with his fingers. Wonyoung gets scared.

"Take it inside ur mouth!" y/n grins. Wonyoung opens her mouth welcoming the huge giant black length.

Y/N guides his engorged tip to her lips, a drop of pre-cum glistening there. As Wonyoung parts them obediently, he slowly pushes forward, his thick shaft entering her mouth.

"Good girl…" Y/n praises, the heat of her mouth enveloping him, her tiny tongue trying to accommodate his girth. He groans out in pleasure, a hand cradling the back of her head.

Inch by inch, Wonyoung feels him stretching her oral cavity to its limit. Saliva drips down as y/n invades her throat. y/n seems determined to make her choke and gag on every inch.

Despite Wonyoung's best efforts, Y/N's enormous size proves too much for her mouth. With a wicked grin, he sees that his full length cannot fit.

"Aww…" y/n drawls mockingly, pulling her head forward to try shoving the final inches in. She chokes and gags as her lips reach the base of his shaft, tears welling in her eyes from the effort.

"Looks like your little mouth just can't take all of me can it?"

Y/n withdraws from her mouth, a thin string of saliva breaking as his tip pops free. Wonyoung gasps for air, coughing and wheezing as she clutches her throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung's eyes go wide with fear as Y/N ignores her discomfort, forcing his colossal rod back into her mouth. She feels powerless to stop him as the massive rod stretches her oral cavity to its absolute limit. Her lips are crushed beneath his girth, saliva dripping down in abundance. Tears stream down her face as she gags and chokes repeatedly, her muffled cries stifled by his relentless thrusts.

Each deep push into her mouth bruises her throat, leaving her feeling used and violated. She tries in vain to push away but he holds her head firmly in place, intent on violating her mouth regardless of the agony he inflicts.

Y/N sets a brutal pace, fucking Wonyoung's mouth without mercy now. His powerful hips snap forward, driving his black beast into her throat over and over with such force the bed shakes. Her whole head bobs along with his thrusts as he uses her mouth like a cheap fleshlight.

Wonyoung's eyes bulge as she feels him strike the back of her throat on every downward plunge. She's completely at his mercy, gagging and retching with each deep invasion. Saliva dripsdown her chin and chest in waves, drool puddling beneath her as she's ruthlessly facefucked without concern for her wellbeing. He pays no mind to her choking cries, consumed by his own pleasure as he claims her innocence in the most degrading way.

She can't breathe. She tries to pull back but he holds her head down, pushing further.

"Don't fight it bitch, be a good slut and take this cock." Y/N growls and reveals his dark side. His grip tightening as he forces her head down even deeper.

"You wanted this when you let me tear those clothes off slut!."

He looks down cruelly as tears stream down Wonyoung's red, splotchy face. Ignoring her pained gasps, he continues his aggressive facefucking, determined to break her.

"That's it, choke on this dick you little whore. You're learning your place aren't you?"

Wonyoung is choking hard now. Her eyes rolling back a bit. She tries to grab his arm but he slaps her face hard. Y/n continues facefucking her.

Y/N seems to enjoy the feel of Wonyoung's tiny hands attempting to push him away, so he decides to punish her further. His free hand strikes her inner thigh, leaving a red handprint on her delicate skin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No using hands slut, mouth only."

He resumes his brutal pace, his hips pounding against her as he splits her mouth more wide open out of her limits. She's completely at his mercy, her body shaking and convulsing from lack of air. Saliva and tears mix on her face in a sad puddle. Each thrust makes her body lurch but he pays it no mind, intent on using her pretty face to satisfy himself.

"Look at you…a total mess already…and we're just getting started…" he taunts with a twisted grin.

Her vision starts to blur, she feels lightheaded and dizzy…

As Y/N reaches his limit deepthroating her, Wonyoung feels hot jets painting her tongue and throat, his seed pouring into her stomach without pause. Simultaneously, a warm, bitter liquid fills her mouth - it's his piss. He shows no mercy, marking every inch of her young mouth.

"Drink it up," he demands, holding her head in place as his fluids overwhelm her senses. She struggles weakly beneath him but cannot escape. His piss mixing with his load, it's too much, she has no choice but to swallow or drown.

"Mmm wow, you've proven your mouth belongs to me." Y/N pulls out, leaving Wonyoung gasping for breath. Wonyoung starts coughing continuously.

Wonyoung gasps for air desperately, her throat raw and hoarse from Y/N's brutal use of her mouth. She coughs and retches, trying to expel the bitter tastes coating her insides.

Her eyes water as she glances up at him, a mixture of fear and humiliation shining back. She shakily tries to push herself into a seated position, her hands bracing on the bed.

At this moment, Y/N rises from the bed and casually strolls over to a closet in the corner of the room. He returns with a wicked-looking leather whip and a coil of thick rope in hand. Wonyoung's eyes widen in terror as she sees what y/n just bought, her body shuddering.

"Now that you've tasted a sample, it's time for the real fun to begin." His voice is dark and promising punishment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung scoots backward on the floor, away from him, her vulnerability evident. She tries to speak again but only a raspy whimper escapes her swollen, used lips.

Wonyoung tries to run away. She understood its her fault to seduce black guys and shes not in the level for taking them ---- but its too late.

Y/N laughs cruelly as Wonyoung tries to flee, easily grabbing her ankle before she can get far.

"Oh no you don't."

He yanks her back roughly, sending her crashing to her belly on the floor. Pinning her down with his knee, he reaches for the rope.

"Stay still for me darling." He commands, his expression serious.

Before she can escape or struggle again, he binds her wrists together behind her back with tight knots. She thrashes beneath him but it's no use - the rope holds firm.

"You shouldn't try to leave when I've made it clear you belong to me now."

Wonyoung trembles, knowing her punishment is coming and shes fully tied up. Wonyoung looks at him pleadingly, her eyes wide with terror and regret. "Please sir..don't…" she whimpers, tugging at the rope binding her..

Y/N's eyes gleam with malicious delight at Wonyoung's pitiful begs. "You should have thought of that before that pretty mouth of yours tempted me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He brings the whip cutting through the air and smashes her backside with a loud smack. Red welts immediately rise under the harsh lashes as she cries out in a mix of pain and shame.

Another strike rains down, harder this time, and he watches the young girl screaming. She is completely at his mercy now, helpless and vulnerable as he carries out his dark desires.

The pain is intense but Wonyoung knows she has to obey. With each subsequent strike, Wonyoung's cries grow louder and more raw. Her high pitched wails fill the room, laced with agony and defeat. As the whip bites into her tender flesh again and again, her voice cracks and breaks.

"AHH! !" She sobs, her body shuddering violently. Each new cry echoes off the walls, a haunting symphony of torment. Her throat begins to burn from the excessive screaming but she knows she must keep counting or face even worse consequences.

Y/n now positions Wonyoung to fuck her.

"Please…be gentle…" Wonyoung begs with her broken voice.

He pulls back up to stare down at her with a wicked grin. "Gentle isn't what you need."

"Ready or not, here I come."

With a single powerful thrust he plunges into her innocence, ripping through her barrier and making her cry out sharply in a combination of searing pain and fullness. This time Y/N continues still to whip her chest & tits.

She cries, the whip has marked her deeply. Her chest is now all red and bruised from the harsh lashes. Wonyoung near faints from the relentless pain and punishment. Her throat gets raw from screaming.

"Look at the beautiful mess I made of you." Y/N groans approvingly, pausing to take in the damage he's inflicted.

Wonyoung's cries turn to weak whimpers as she hangs limply, on the brink of unconsciousness. Her mangled body shakes beneath him.

"Still with me cutie?" He taunts, reaching down to run a gentle finger along her jawline.

Ignoring her pathetic state, Y/N begins to move within her, the wet slap of flesh echoing off the walls. He starts a brutal rhythm, using her sore, torn holes without care or concern for her welfare.

He leans down to bite down hard on her shoulder to muffle any louder sounds, savoring dominance over the broken girl.

Wonyoung screams at the top of her lungs, the pain unbearable. She loses consciousness, hanging limply now. Y/N continues fucking her anyway, not caring about her state.

Wonyoung's lack of response and only screaming only fuels his sadism further. He grips her hair, yanking her head back at an uncomfortable angle as he drives deeper.

With a more deep thrust, Y/N forces his entire length brutally into Wonyoung's tiny, ravaged pussy. She's so weak and unconscious that she doesn't fight back. The extreme intersection of his rod inside her stretches her to her limits causes Wonyoung's inner walls to tear painfully.

Y/N does not finish and doesn't pulls out. Wonyoung is a destroyed mess. She's out cold. Y/n seems to continue tearing Wonyoung inside apart, not stopping even once. Wonyoung's insides feel like mush.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N's sadistic bloodlust knows no bounds as he continues mutilating Wonyoung's innermost depths without mercy. Her inner walls are in tatters beneath his relentless pounding. Thick fluid drips down his length each time he withdraws just to spear her open body again and again.

"Fuck yes…take it u little whore," he roars, oblivious to anything but causing her maximum pain. His heavy sack slaps against her destroyed entrance with every brutal thrust.

He doesn't care that she's unconscious, barely holding together. The lewd wet sounds of tearing flesh fill the room including Wonyoung's crying noises. When he eventually does tire, it's not from exhaustion - just a wicked hunger satiated, if only temporarily.

Finally as Y/n reaches his own limits, spending himself, Y/N feels victorious as his hot seed fills Wonyoung's mutilated core. Wonyoung is totally breeded by y/n, her pussy full with his seed. Yet his cruelty isn't finished.

He aims to Wonyoung's face and begins to urinate directly onto her mouth & face. The warm liquid rains down, mixing with his cum flooding her mouth, nose, eyes. It's a brutal, degrading bath that shows just how little she means to him beyond a receptacle for his waste.

"Drink it up you filthy bitch!" He demand to Wonyoung cruelly, not stopping until he's emptied himself over her bruised and broken features. Wonyoung faints and collapses at the moment.

Even unconscious, Y/N's property must endure his most base impulses. With a final kick to her side, he withdraws from her violated body, leaving her a bruised, torn, piss-soaked mess.

He wears his clothes back with a satisfied swagger. The room reeks of their depravity now. Crumpled ribbons of rope and discarded clothes litter the floor. Y/N pauses, bending to retrieve his phone and snapping a pic of her broken, unconscious form before she regains consciousness to ruin it further.

"Enjoy your nap, princess." He purrs mockingly. "When you wake, things will only get worse."

With that chilling promise hanging in the air, he lets himself out, eagerly anticipating round two. Wonyoung is all his now - a plaything for his darkest desires.

part two:

1 hour later, Wonyoung starts to regain consciousness. Her body aches and stings all over. She can feel something warm and sticky dripping from…down there…

As her hazy eyes open, the world spins dizzily. A dry, cracked tongue flicks across parched lips trying to find moisture. The scent of sex and urine assaults her nose, the source immediately clear as she gazes down at her violated body.

Y/N's seed and piss trickle from swollen, wounded folds. She cries at the burning pain radiating through her pussy, each throb a harsh reminder of the beast who'd used her so brutally while she was unable to stop it.

"Oh god…" she whispers, the words barely audible.

She sees the restraints around her hands still tied…She tries to move but every inch of her body hurts.

Her heart pounds as the sound of footsteps approach, dread filling her to the core.

"Good, you're awake." Y/N says, voice dripping with malice as he reenters the room. "Miss me?"

This is far from over...he's just getting started. 9 friends of y/n enters the room. All are BBC and giant compared to wonyoung.

Wonyoung's eyes go wide with pure terror as she sees the group of imposing black men file into the room, their massive sizes dwarfing her skinny frame. She shakes her head frantically, whimpering "No, please no…"

Y/N grins wickedly at her panic. "Looks like I got you a little party, cutie."

The men lick their lips as they approach, their massive rods clearly visible through their pants. Wonyoung thrashes against the restraints, her body shuddering. She knows she cannot handle any more but she is completely at their mercy now.

One of the men kneels down, forcing her chin toward him. "You gonna be a good girl and open up?" He asks menacingly.

1 of them grabs her chin roughly, another one unbuttons himself. Wonyoung feels like she's going to pass out again just from the sight of them. 3 of them come closer, pulling off their shirts. She see their ripped muscles. One of them speaks up "You ready to be used like a hole? .. Others start touching Wonyoung's pure naked body, hungry to taste and eat her.

Wonyoung trembles violently as the trio of hulking men expose their chiseled physiques, beads of sweat glistening on tanned skin. She tries to shrink away from their roaming hands but there is nowhere to hide, trapped as she is.

"Please, no more…I can't…" she begs through choked sobs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We gonna destroy every last hole, girl."

Panic overwhelms her as they position themselves, the leader at her mouth, another at her sore pussy, and a third readying to claim her backside. They smirk down at her maliciously, ready to make her break completely.

3 more friends join, making it 12 total. They start untying Wonyoung's ropes and drag her to the middle of the room. She's completely surrounded. 2 of them grab her arms and legs to hold her down. She tries to struggle but their strength is unprecedented. They start to fuck her now.

Wonyoung cries out as the men overpower her tiny frame between them, rendering her limp body immovable as they use her limbs as they wish. She's sandwiched between 3 of them now, each plowing into a different hole without care for her screams and pleas to stop.

"Getting tighter!" One grunts as he pummels her raw entrance.

"I like it when she fights!" Another laughs, gripping her throat with a hand.

The room echoes with the lewd smacks of flesh colliding, the acrid smell of sex, Wonyoung's loud screams of horror and exertion thick in the air.

The additional men take turns at her mouth and backside, stretching her limits impossibly further. She feels like she's being torn apart as they claim every inch relentlessly.

The men laugh manically as two of them force her legs back towards her head, exposing Wonyoung completely.

"Get ready slut, you wanted this," one growled before spitting on her exposed holes.

To her horror, two of them position themselves at her asshole (rear entrance) and pussy simultaneously. There's no preparation, no mercy. With a brutal thrust they drive into her at once, tearing her apart with the double penetration on both her pussy and asshole at the same time.

Wonyoung's screams become a hoarse, wailing shriek. Her body convulses, sensation overwhelming every nerve. More agony than she ever thought possible. Just when she thinks it can't get worse, a third man slides his tip into her mouth, silencing her cries.

The mens begin moving in rhythm, the friction and impactsend white hot pain shooting through her core. She feels like a ragdoll being used, stuffed full by these giant cocks. They pound without pause, grunting and swearing. Her limp body shakes violently beneath them.

Now as the triple penetration initiates, Wonyoung's scream reverberates through the room, raw and primal. The men work methodically - fucking her mouth, fucking her pussy, and fucking her asshole.

Slowly but surely they force their impressive girths into her tight holes. She feels utterly and completely full beyond anything imaginable. Hot shafts glide alongside each other within her, the thin walls separating her holes offering no resistance anymore as they violate every depth.

"Fuck yes, stretch that pretty little whore out!" One of them roars, savoring the vice-like grip of her body accommodating three beasts simultaneously.

Wonyoung's vision blurs from the intense sensation. Her insides are being rearranged, the men's powerful thrusts sawing in and out of her in a grueling rhythm. They use her mouth, pussy and ass as one connected pipeline, their movements synchronized to maximize her suffering.

"Damn…so fucking tight…gonna pop these bitches…" another grunts, picking up speed.

Wonyoung has never been so utterly and completely taken, stuffed to the limit in the most depraved way imaginable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung's screams morph into wordless cries of torment and agony as her body is pushed to its extreme limits. Her voice cracks and give out from the intense overstimulation. She's little more than a ragdoll sandwiched between the mass of men, taking them all simultaneously.

2 cocks in her mouth, one in each hand, another 3 in her pussy, and 3 more stretching her anus - a total of 10 dicks claiming every hole at once. She's being utterly and completely ruined.

Her mind goes blank as she's pounded without mercy. The men above her use her lifeless form like a fucktoy, their flesh meeting with obscene squelching sounds. Each deep thrust draws more whimpers from her lips, her body shaking from the force of it all.

Wonyoung has shattered. Her spirit lies in tatters, beaten down by the relentless barrage of man meat. She no longer tries to resist or escape - she simply accepts, knowing she cannot fight back against these numbers. She's just a vessel for their carnal pleasure now.

Her holes feel utterly devastated and destroyed after taking 10 dicks simultaneously. The delicate tissues have been stretched beyond limits nature intended, left raw, swollen and bleeding from the brutal stretching.

Wonyoung can hardly feel anything besides a deep, throbbing ache - her nerves overwhelmed into hypersensitivity.

The constant gangbang fucking is unbearable, yet the men show no signs of stopping. Her holes are totally ruined permanently and torn apart. Slick fluids mix and drip down her thighs as wet, sloppy sounds fill the room with lewd evidence of her defilement.

It feels as though she'll never be whole again after this - that she'll carry the memory of this violence forever etched on her wounded flesh.

As Y/n takes his length out from Wonyoung's anus after fucking it deep, he starts to deepthroat her mouth as he slaps her face roughly, letting Wonyoung taste the insides of her own anus.

The dehumanizing "gawk gawk gawk" sounds she makes send a shiver down his spine, knowing he broke her completely.

He forces her head to bob faster on his length, face twisted in dark delight. The other men cheer at the spectacle, still pounding away at her ruined holes.

She simply accepts whatever they do to her mouth like a mindless automaton.

Y/N feels close. "Get ready for your last order, pet." He says coldly before shoving her head down hard, holding her in place as he reaches his climax directly into her throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 friends roughly grab Wonyoung's arms and legs, holding her down on the floor.

Wonyoung offers no resistance as the men seize her limp limbs, pinning her prone body to the cold floor. Her breaths come in short, ragged gasps, her voice hoarse and sore from screaming and gagging.

With her held down, all the men exchange hungry grins, their eyes manic with depraved delight.

One gives the signal - it's time.

They all target their hard length across her face, specifically her mouth. Wonyoung feels them swell, knowing what's coming next.

"Get ready for your shower, whore," Y/N growls.

The first hot jet strikes her chest, warm liquid running down her tits. Others join in, raining down on her face, in her hair, over her used, abused body. She's powerless to escape as they mark their territory.

"Let it all out boys, drench her!" a voice calls out.

Streams of yellow join the torrent, the humiliation complete as they piss on Wonyoung like an animal. Tears well up again but don't mask the shock etched on her features. She's utterly degraded, soiled and saturated from their release and waste. A used, broken toy left discarded on the floor.

As the hot, bitter liquid splashed over her face and body, Wonyoung tried to turn away but the men kept her pinned down firmly. Her face was instantly drenched, eyes stinging from the onslaught. Piss trickled into her gasping mouth and nose, choking her.

She shook her head from side to side but it only served to spread it through her silken hair.

As more and more hot liquid continues to fill her mouth, Wonyoung is forced to drink all of their urine spilling over as she tries to consume it all. Wonyoung closes her eyes, surrendering completely now.

She feels the warmth spreading through as she gulps down load after load, the smell of urine now thick in her nostrils. It's disgusting yet something about submitting to this vile act makes her body tremble.

The men laugh and high-five as she dutifully drinks their offerings, leaving her belly bloated and full. She's their obedient little toilet, and a dark part of her responds to pleasing them this way. When they finally finish, she lies there panting, piss dripping from her mouth, hair totally wet, face totally full of piss.

Wonyoung's body trembles uncontrollably, her legs spread and shaking. Her holes are gaping open, lewdly stuffed with ropes of white seed oozing out to mix with the spent yellowed streams covering her.

She feels raw, used up, and yet…alive.

As she lays there exposed, dazed eyes drifting shut, she knows she's changed irrevocably by this brutal encounter. A dark, insatiable hunger stirs within her now craving more. More humiliation, more depravity - does wonyoung still yearn for it?

[milla-frenchy]

Push it

3k4 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: you have a secret “relationship” with Joel, your dad's best friend. You know you can't have more, but you can’t resist the idea to provoke him a little

Warnings: 18+ mdni. Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel late 40s), Joel is a grumpy, possessive, jealous man, reader is a brat. Grinding, dry humping, oral (f/m), pussy slapping, spanking, degradation, rough sex, dirty talk, cum eating, squirting, piv, creampie

a/n: so, this is my first dbf!Joel fic. Thank you anon, for your ask ❤️ I hope you'll like it 🙏

@aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing baby 💕🫶

dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

The fic is titled after “Push it” by Garbage 

Joel was looking at you walking back and forth from the dining room and the kitchen, swaying your hips and teasing him in your short dress. And if your father had been paying any attention to him instead of the game on TV, he would have noticed the way Joel was biting his upper lip or rubbing his hands together. Joel was nervous, and the more nervous he got, the more you teased him.

“Damn brat,” Joel muttered under his breath.

“What?” your father asked.

“Nothing,” he replied and then sighed. “Just said that player really sucks, that’s all.”

“I think he’s hot,” you said cheerfully. “How old is he?”

“A little too old for you to be interested, honey. Over 30 years old.”

You scoffed at your father’s words, and you were pretty sure you heard “jesus” coming out of Joel’s mouth.

You spent the rest of the match pulling down your neckline to expose more of your cleavage or hiking your dress up your thighs. You were careful to do it in a way that your father wouldn’t consider inappropriate if he ever looked at you at some point, but he was captivated by the game. 

Your and Joel’s gazes met often and he gave you a few serious warning stares that you ignored shamelessly. You didn’t even try to hide your satisfaction each time he had to readjust his jeans.

Once the match was over, you brought their empty beer bottles back to the kitchen, and Joel's firm hand closed around your arm as soon as you were there.

“The hell you doin’?” he grumbled.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Cut the crap, sweetheart,” he hissed through his teeth. “Acting like a damn tease, makin’ me hard during the game? In front of your father, goddamn it! Could even see you’re wearing the black lingerie.”

“Ooooh… yeah, your favorite. Too bad you made it very clear the last time you filled me up- we fuck just for fun, right? So let me have fun and act as I please in my father's house. And let go of me.”

But he squeezed harder. “Keep it down,” he growled. “And that ain’t what I said.”

“Whatever. Next time you see me, I may be with my boyfriend.”

“What boyfriend?” His nostrils flared and you loved the sight.

“The one I’m probably gonna meet tonight, when I go out with my friends. The one who’ll appreciate my lingerie. Let go of me,” you repeated, yanking yourself free.

You headed towards the kitchen door, and after glancing behind, you saw him leaning against the counter. Annoyed, dark eyes, eyebrows furrowed, arm muscles stretching his black t-shirt. Irritation suited him well, he was even more handsome than usual. You tried to ignore the racing of your heart as you stepped back into the dining room.

“Can you help me with the internet at home?" he asked you in front of your father. “Connection ain't working.”

“I’m sorry, Joel, I can’t right now. I have to get ready, I’m going out tonight and my friends are picking me up in an hour.”

“Jesus, your manners?!” your father replied as if you had said the most impolite thing in the world. “Go help Joel. Your friends can wait a few minutes.”

You rolled your eyes, careful so that only Joel could see you. He smirked in a way that was so feline that you felt yourself dripping. He walked out towards his house, not checking if you were following him. He knew you were. 

Once home he sat down on his couch, resting his right arm on the backrest.

“What's the problem with the internet?”

“Ain't got any problems. Come here,” he said, patting his thighs.

“What makes you think I wanna sit on your lap?”

“Pussy's dripping. Can smell it from here.”

You rolled your eyes but you walked over to him and straddled him, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. He grabbed your hips tightly and positioned you how he exactly wanted you, his stiff shaft in his jeans against your folds covered only by your black panties. Your eyes sparkled when you felt his manhood. His were fixed on yours. Full of confidence, the eyes of a mature man, aware of his power of seduction over you.

“Stop being a brat and grind on me. I know you need it bad.”

You rolled your hips slowly, grinding against his hard cock. His hands firmly laid on your hips, but letting you lead the pace. His jeans almost hurt your inner thighs but you needed that friction against your soaked pussy. That sweet pain, the one that helps to feel better, like an itch that can be relieved only when you scratch it a little. He pulled your neckline down roughly, cupping your breasts in his palms before taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking it.

“Joel…,” you whimpered.

“Keep humping me, sweetheart. Yeah, just like that. She needs it, uh?”

He took your nipple back in his mouth, licking and then nibbling on it lightly, pressing on your shoulders to feel you more.

“Use me. Use me to get off,” he said, the need in his voice showing you how much he loved feeling you rub yourself against him. You kept rolling your hips, moaning “Joel, Joel…,” your whimpers getting louder and louder, until you breathed out “it’s good, so good, I’m gonna come,” just before you came against him, whining into his neck, trembling. Your desire wetting your panties even more and flowing onto his jeans.

You let your forehead rest against him, panting into his skin that you kissed as he stroked your back, before you pulled back and faced his dark eyes.

“I wanna suck your cock,” you said, kneeling down and unzipping his jeans.

“Yeah? Gonna help me with that after your little game? That's what you wanted, uh? Wanted me to get fuckin’ hard, while I couldn't do anything about it.”

You nodded, there was no more brat attitude left in you, just eagerness as you pulled his cock out gently, and watched his weeping, red tip. You licked your lips and spread the precum around his slit with your thumb. You sucked him the way he liked, lingering on his tip for a long time, licking, sucking. Each time, you wanted to give him the sloppiest head, so that he wouldn’t think about anyone else. Wouldn’t want anyone else.

When you took his length in your mouth, getting used to its thickness, pressing your tongue against his quivering skin, you felt him shiver. Until he pressed his cock against the back of your throat, and finally put his hands on your head. You loved feeling his underlying power, his pressure on your temples.

“Don’t move,” he said in a low voice, his length buried in your hot throat. You felt his tip twitch. Finally he started to thrust, fucking your mouth and your throat, using you as a fuck hole.

The mouth of his best friend’s daughter. He didn’t think about it anymore, when he was buried in one of your three holes. His remorse was forgotten. He didn’t care what could happen next, where this relationship or whatever it was, would take both of you. Didn't think about the consequences anymore. Only your warmth, your tightness welcoming his cock, mattered.

His hands firmly gripping your head, he thrusted in, and began fucking your mouth relentlessly. From the first time he’d fucked you, you noticed how different he was from your previous boyfriends. He loved when you teased him. He loved being seated on his couch, manspreading, while you were dancing lasciviously in front of him, waiting for him to break and reach out to you. But sometimes, often, you were the one breaking first. 

When you danced like that, his gaze was full of promise. Promise to fuck you so well you’d forget your own name when he was done with you.

Guys of your age didn’t have that patience.

He loved to make you come several times before spilling his cum. Sometimes he made you come again after, with his tongue or fingers, leaving you breathless and cock dumb. 

Your ex boyfriends usually didn’t care.

But he cared.

You let him use your mouth, let him move your head back and forth. Let him bury himself in the back of your throat. You learned not to gag anymore, when he fucked it. He trained you to do it. 

His hands froze on your temples, and you knew he was about to shoot hot ropes of cum that would hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna come… swallow all of it, sweetheart. Like a good girl, just like I taught you.”

His cum spurted out, and drop by drop, you swallowed it all. Then you carefully cleaned his shaft, his tip, until he pulled out. He put his cock back in his pants, and zipped them.

“You should go, you’re gonna be late.”

“Do you have something to tell me, Joel?”

“Good evening?” He sighed when he saw your eyes, a little blurry, and added “and keep those wet panties on. I want you to remember how you came humping me, while you’re out with your friends.”

You didn’t try to meet his gaze when you heard his words, and you left.

Babe? Babe!” You heard your friend’s voice in the distance. You were so lost in your thoughts. Always the same. Joel.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You spread your hands in front of you, as if to mean you had no idea what she was talking about.

“We’re supposed to have fun and you seem… somewhere else. What’s on your mind, babe?”

You answered that everything was fine, and tried to push Joel out of your thoughts. Joel who had told you that you weren’t a couple, that you didn’t have a relationship because your father, other people couldn’t know. That this thing between you was a bonus that you were giving each other. But that there couldn’t be more.

So when a guy of your age approached you and asked you to dance, you didn’t say no. When he offered you a drink and asked if you wanted to join him in the bathroom of the bar, you didn’t say no either. Sat on the bathroom sink, you let him eat you out.

And you only thought about Joel who always did it so perfectly, knew when to lick lightly, when to suck on your clit, knew how to fill you with two of his fingers. You had to think about him, the whole time that guy was eating you out. You had to think about Joel’s beard and mustache, scratching tenderly or roughly against your sensitive skin.

It was the only way for you to come.

When you left the bathroom, Joel was the first person you saw. Dark stare. Then darker than ever, when his gaze fell on the man who walked out of the room right after you. You froze before heading to your table, but he grabbed your arm before you sat down. 

“I’m taking you back home. Now.”

“Are you mad? I come home whenever I want.”

“Wow wow! What’s going on? Are you her dad?” Joel looked at this man whose name you didn't even know, from his full height, fists clenched. Joel looked at him as if he wanted to throw him to the ground, making him take a step back.

“No I ain’t her dad, luckily for you”, he growled. He turned to you before adding “I said, now.”

You followed him, like a docile dog. Turned on by his jealousy and attitude.

“Get in the damn car,” he grumbled. He started driving, silent, hands clenching the wheel until his knuckles were white.

“Joel…”

“Don’t,” he rambled. “Don’t say a word.”

You sank into the seat, waiting for him to drop you off at your place. But he pulled into his driveway.

“Follow me,” he said, without waiting for you.

When you joined him at his house, his hands were on his hips, his gaze turned towards the ground.

“You fucked him?” he asked in a low voice.

“No. No I didn't.”

“He fucked you?”

“No, damn… He didn't fuck me.”

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows, in a way that was clear- he didn't believe a word you were telling him.

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

“Don't lie to me. You got that “just fucked” face.”

“Damn, I… He went down on me, that's all.”

“You let him go down on you? On that pussy?”

If you didn't know him, his tone might have seemed detached. But you had known him for a long time, and the surprise mixed with jealousy didn't escape you. Actually, it was even more than a surprise. Almost a shock.

You even felt like he was holding back from saying “my pussy.” But he had been clear about you two. Fun.

“Why do you care? You don’t want anything serious.”

“He ate you with your wet panties on? He pushed them to the side?” You nodded shyly, almost embarrassed.

“Fuck, come here,” he said, grabbing you by the hips before pulling you back towards the couch, your feet dragging in an attempt to keep up with his pace.

He pushed you roughly to sit you down and knelt down in front of you. He pulled your dress up and practically ripped your panties off, and yanked your hips towards the edge of the couch.

“I think this pussy needs to remember who makes her come,” he growled, already pushing two fingers inside you. “You're fucking soaked. You came in his damn mouth?”

“Yes I… Fuck, Joel!” He was fingering your pussy quickly, as if he wanted to remove any memory of any man other than himself.

“Was he good at it?”

“Yeah, he was perfect. Made me come so quickly.”

He slapped your swollen clit and you whined, tears at the corner of your eyes.

“I said, don't lie to me,” he spat at you, stopping his fingers deep inside your pussy.

You lowered your head before answering.

“No, he wasn't good at it. Had to think about someone else to come. Had to think about you,” you whined. “Stop being mean to me, I didn't do anything wrong!”

“I need to remind you how this cunt needs to be eaten. Like the damn slut she belongs to.”

This wasn't the first time he'd degraded you. He'd noticed early on how receptive you were to it. And the way your pussy squeezed his fingers couldn't hide it, once again.

He settled between your thighs, lapping at your cunt still soaked with another man’s saliva, your pleasure and your desire for Joel.

He dove in like it was his last meal on earth, lapping, sucking, mixing his saliva with someone else's and he didn't care. Your hands tangled in his curls. Your orgasm was building and Joel stopped just before you exploded on his fingers and tongue.

“No Joel! Please, why did you stop?”

“I don't want another tongue on this cunt. Ya hear me?”

“But you said…” He slapped your clit again, making you whimper.

“Repeat it.”

“I… fuck, Joel! Jesus… You don't want another tongue on this cunt.”

“If I see you with anyone else again, if I hear about you with anyone else, I’ll spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for days.”

Your pussy clenched around his fingers without you being able to control your body.

“Jesus Christ, you fuckin’ like it? You want to get punished over my knee like the dirty little brat you are?”

“I… no, I… fuck…”

“Pussy's drooling even more. Unbelievable…” He started to finger you again, slowly, and placed his thumb on your swollen and sensitive clit, making you whimper. “You were a good girl, with proper manners. And now… can't think straight since you took my fat cock, right?”

“I'm… fuck. I'm a good girl.”

“Really?” he smirked darkly. “Good girls don’t get their pussy eaten by a stranger in a damn bar.” He leaned down and licked a long stripe from your hole already filled with his fingers to your clit, before stopping again cruelly. “Good girls don’t make their man jealous,” he added before diving between your thighs, fingering you fast and so hard that his knuckles tapped against your entrance. His tongue focused on your clit, swirling around it perfectly. 

“My… my man?”

He didn't answer, growling from the depths of your thighs, making you squirm on his fingers as he fingered you hard, until jets spurted out suddenly and wetted his face.

“Fuck yeah! that’s a good girl, squirting on my face, jesus, sweetheart…”

You were completely gone, not realizing that you were cumming on his fingers still buried inside you, until he replaced them with his tongue. He drank everything you gave him, greedy, eager. You kept squirming but his strong grip kept you seated on the couch.

When your jolts stopped, he grabbed your arm to lift you up and bent you over the dining room table. His hand tightened on the back of your neck, and he unzipped his jeans, lowering them mid-thigh with the other one, before sinking into you in one go, grunting like an animal.

He buried his fingers in the flesh of your hip, pumping into you. Hard, deep thrusts, growling “take it, just like that,” and you could only take it. Letting him feed on your needy pussy, on your low moans that he could barely hear, fucking you so hard that you were almost speechless except for the whimpers.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so good.” He kept thrusting in, filling you like only he knew how.

“Harder, Joel. Harder, please,” you begged.

“Jesus…”

Clinging to the edge of the table, you tried to remain as still as possible despite his roughness that threw you forward with every thrust.

“Say my name”, he said in a needy voice. You didn’t hear him and he scoffed. “Too cock dumb to even hear me,” he growled before spanking your ass, hard, making you squeal.

“Joel!!!”

“Oh, you’re back? I said, say my fucking name.”

“J… Joel…”

“That’s right. Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours.”

A second spank landed on your already red skin.

“Say it again.”

“Damn, Joel?! Your pussy… my pussy’s yours, damnit…”

A third spank, even harder than the other ones. “Joel, what the fuck??” you whined.

“Squeezin’ me so tight, each time I spank you… don’t pretend you don’t like it, dirty fucking girl.”

You didn't answer. He was right, you liked it. He knew it and you knew it. You liked his strength, you liked that he used you. You liked being his.

“I’m gonna come. Gonna fill you up, fuck!”

He shot his cum deep in your pussy and didn't stop thrusting, pumping you full until you milked his cock.

Your hand against the wood of the table, you were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath as his heavy body pressed against yours.

“You said it was just for fun… What happened?” you murmured.

“Ain’t what I said. I said, your father can't know. The neighbors, your friends, can't know. But you… you gotta know. I don't share. Got it?”

“Yeah… got it.”

You smiled, feeling his breath against your neck, and his hand tightening on yours, on the wood of the table.

Thank you for reading 🙏

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[ajaxsbeloved]

hi there!! can i request an albedo nsfw hcs where albedo once revealed to the reader that he has extremely high sex drive, so the reader is willing to be his fuck buddy and now he's fucking them almost anytime and anywhere? thank u and have a nice day!!

-: a genius' secret :-

feat. albedo

genre. smut with lots of plot unfortunately (and fluff)

summary. albedo finds out he’s addicted to sex, more specifically he’s addicted to you

warnings. afab reader, gn pronouns, usage of (y/n), somnophillia, reader is friends with sucrose, talk of love and feelings and shit, passionate sex, hand holding, no foreplay (don't do this shit irl), no protections (don't do this shit either), albedo cums in reader

authors note. this idea is actually so good thank you anon i could kiss you for this, real quick note that they DO end up lovers. wasn’t sure if you were ok with that or not because you didn’t specify so i took a little creative liberty :)

albedo has never really been one to care about things such as sexual intercourse or romantic chemical reactions, despite his curiosity for the world and thirst for knowledge he hasn’t really had a thirst for other people or their fluids.

however you were unlike all other humans, in albedo’s eyes you seemed to shine brighter than the stars and your laughter was clearer then everyone else’s. eventually this shifted into the curiosity of getting intimate with you.

albedo is no fool, he’s a grown man and not to mention one of the smartest men in teyvat. of course he knows about sex, he actually knows more about it then you expect. he knows much more than just the basic birds and bees, no no this alchemist knows all the right theoretical spots to bring pleasure to anyone. he just didn’t ever feel the need to try it out.

after you came into the picture this changed, albedo began to want to experiment with this suddenly interesting idea of sexual relationships and what that meant. so he decided to bring this to your attention.

you were shocked to hear that he wanted to have sex, even more so shocked that he did lots of proper research into making that if he at least didn’t find it satisfactory that you would. so naturally because he was very compelling (and very hot) you agreed.

the first time you two did it was in his lab, he had cleared out space and cleaned down the counter tops all for you. he wanted to make sure that this experience was in as controlled of an environment as it possibly could be, he made sure sucrose and timeous were out of the situation as well.

the first time you were nervous, not so nervous for the “having sex with albedo” part as you were sure he’d be fine and considering it was his first time you didn’t expect him to be great. no, you were worried about yourself. what if you weren’t good enough? what if he found that he just wasn’t turned on by you? what if in the worst case scenario you ruined the concept of sex for him?

well regardless of your worries none of them mattered as you two had the best sex of your life that day, albedo was right when he said he knew what he was doing and despite your concerns about being good enough albedo was absolutely enamored with you.

he thought that one time was amazing and before actually doing it he thought he’d only need that one time and one time alone, oh boy was he wrong. he enjoyed himself so much that all of the sudden he couldn’t keep it together when you were around!

it would appear that no matter what you do albedo would find himself unfocused and needy when in your presence, so he decided he should probably confront you about it.

when he told you it was surprising, though you didn’t really mind. albedo was a very attractive man and to say he was fantastic in bed would be an understatement, so you reassured him that nothing was wrong and that you would be happy to have sex with him anytime if he needed it.

biggest. mistake. ever. kinda.

you thought he would “have a high sex drive” as in maybe fuck 4-5 days of the week with short sessions or one round but you were wrong, poor you can’t catch a break and your muscles are now always sore :(

no, albedo is reserved and calm but dear god is that man a horn dog. for a month straight you kept track of how often you two had sex and it was almost every single day… FOR A WHOLE MONTH!

before you knew it you and albedo had become extremely accustomed to each other and had fucked in almost every corner of mondstadt, from his lab to the knights of favonious headquarters and everywhere in between.

at this point you knew each other like the back of your hands, he abuses the spongy soft spot in your walls that makes you see stars when he applies just a little pressure with his index finger and you abuse his sensitive porcelain neck that makes him go harder when you swirl your tongue in a star shape on it.

despite his usually calm and quiet self he’s quite loud in bed, constant heavy breathing and moans fill your ears and considering how heavenly his normal voice is his moans are like music from the gods.

he lasts a long time too, at first it was only one to two rounds but as it built up over time he was able to go for hours and hours. sometimes he’d wake you up to have sex as the sun rises and seeing the sunrise with albedo deep in your walls was like getting into heaven only much more sinful.

his favorite place to have sex is at your house, where there’s no one around and you can comfortably fuck wherever you wanted whether that be the bedroom or kitchen table.

albedo is all about cleaning up his messes though, any fluids you got anywhere would be clean that be your sheets or your countertops and sometimes he’d even use chemicals to erase your prints.

this fuckbuddy situation was so life changing that you’ve even considered dating albedo, not only is the man good in bed but he’s sweet and gentle. only in bed does he get more rough but even then it’s just the right amount.

who knows maybe one day albedo will be more than fuck buddy to you. (he already wants more with you.)

eventually you realize that you actually want more with albedo, of course you still want to have amazing mind blowing sex but you also want to hold him close and listen to him sing as he plays with your hair.

you of course start freaking out realizing this and decide the best way to go about the situation is to avoid albedo entirely! why tf would you do that.

you normally see each other every day whether that be because you drop off food to sucrose during lab hours or you run into each other at the knights headquarters, there’s plenty of reasons you see each other often.

so naturally the only thing you can do is choose to completely change your daily schedule to accommodate your ignorance of albedo, you send klee to drop off food for sucrose and you work from home as to avoid the knights headquarters.

this goes on for a solid 3 days before albedo worries, now he was already worried by day 2 but decided to wait in case you were thinking of coming out yourself and explaining the situation which you ended up not doing.

so albedo goes to your house after finally finishing his shift at the lab, he’s honestly quite tired and would love to go home and drink a cup of tea while reading but this is much more important to him.

he knocks gently at your door, for once in his life he finds himself growing anxious at the realization that you might be avoiding him. did he do something wrong? maybe you were sick of having sex with him? maybe you had found someone else… oh god please no anything but that.

albedo can feel his saliva thickening at the very thought that you had moved on from him despite the two of you not actually being together, lost in his thoughts he ends up staring at the floor when suddenly the door flies open.

you stand there before him utterly in shock and yet when albedo makes eye contact with you he can’t help but feel his “heart” beat even faster then before.

you look an utter and complete mess with your hair unbrushed and only wearing a shirt and shorts you threw on last minute to open the door, you don’t have any makeup on and your skin hits the cold winter air making you tense up.

but to albedo none of that matters, all that matters is that you’re right there in front of him and you look better than you ever have.

“a-albedo…. what are you doing here?”

“where have you been the past few days, i’ve been worried sick are you okay?”

albedo is speaking fast and with more emotion in his voice than you’ve possibly ever heard from him, you realize the effect you’ve had on him and start to feel guilty.

you begin to sweat and trip over yourself explaining, stuttering and mumbling you fidget with your hands and can’t seem to look albedo in the eyes

without warning he lightly places his hands on your wrists, you look up to find him with the same expression as always but you feel like there’s a tinge of relief in his eyes.

“may i come in?”

you stumble on your words once again as you sloppily invite him into your home and close the door behind you with a confused look on your face.

he grabs your arm and leads you to the couch, being careful not to pull too harshly. as he’s sitting the two of you down his hands don’t leave yours and you feel your face warm up at the thought.

“(y/n), do you have feelings for me?”

what the—how did he get it that fast? your jaw drops open and you struggle to find the words to answer.

"i—well... i mean— wha.. what are you trying to imply? i mean honestly, what kinda question is that..?" you stumble through the sentence nervously, trying to shift the blame onto him.

albedo listens carefully, waiting for the right moment to say something as you fumble with your words.

“i have feelings for you as well.”

you keep rambling and trying to excuse yourself and without even noticing you completely ignored what albedo had said, sighing albedo just looked at you and leaned in to kiss you.

mid rambling you freeze when you realize albedo's lips are on yours, and you inevitably melt into the kiss, having missed him more than you realized.

"'bedo.." you mumble against his lips, and you can feel him smile into the kiss.

"yes, love?" he says, pulling away ever so slightly, just enough to rest his forehead against yours as he waits for you to ask whatever was important enough to interrupt your moment.

"can we please have sex now?" you all but whine, looking at him with puppy dog eyes, to which he can only chuckle and comply with your wishes

albedo leads you to the bedroom and gently lays you down on the soft sheets, he climbs on top of you and moved your hair out of your face with a slight smile grazing his lips

he kisses you again, this time more lightly and you can feel the sincerity on hips lips. he’s holding himself above you so carefully and only pushing onto you a little bit to avoid crushing you

you giggle at the way his mouth tickles the nape of your neck, he slowly kisses along and looks up occasionally to see how you react with a glint of mischief in his beautiful cerulean eyes

before you know it albedo is tugging at your clothing and trying to pry them off at an almost slow pace, you help him and wiggle out of your garments as you feel up his arms and cup his face

it isn’t long before your lips meet his again only this time you take the lead and put more fire into the kiss, you let out a hum and albedo groans at the way you slip your tongue into his mouth with little hesitation

soon you find yourself practically clawing at each other, groping and squeezing and hurriedly pulling at albedos clothes

he finally get the memo that you want something more rough than what he had in mind and he pushes you back onto the bed as he begins to unbuckle his belt

you lay on the bed trying your best to look seductive, giving albedo bedroom eyes and pulling your lips between your teeth, your eyes sparkling with anticipation

and albedo notices this, he sees what you’re doing and it’s driving him absolutely wild. you’re just so sexy and he can’t help but be in awe at how you’re finally all his for certain

albedos belt slips off and so does his boxers as he leans down to your figure and begins lapping his tongue all over your chest, making eye contact the whole time as he circles his tongue around your sensitive buds

you whine at the feeling, pawing at him to just put himself in you. he laughs at your pathetic attempt to get him to do something but regardless he lines himself up with your walls and pushes in, you moan at the way he stretches you out and your back arches off the bed

albedo is trying to hold himself back a bit, kneading at the sheets to calm himself and find some sort of semblance of self control

when he bottoms out he lets out a deep sigh, almost as if he’s been waiting for this moment for 3 whole days. he waits patiently for you to give him the ok to move, unsure of how long i5 would take to adjust to him since it had been longer than usual without him

once you nod at him he pulls back slowly to make sure you can feel every inch of his perfectly thick and veiny cock, he hisses through his teeth before slamming back into you

you throw your head back and whimper at how deep he is, he fits your velvety walls so perfectly and you can swear he’s kissing your cervix

leaning down to your ear he picks up speed and wrap his arms around your waist, lifting your back up slightly off the mattress

“hnnngg you feel so good, fuck you’re so warm”

you shiver at the breath next to your ear, you can’t help but roll your eyes back at how amazing this position is

albedo on top of you with his arms wrapped around you and your wall wrapped around him, you couldn’t ask for anything better

he keeps pushing into you at a steady pace, his cock hitting that spongy spot that’s making you see stars. it’s like he keeps getting deeper with every thrust and you can’t do anything but moan at the feeling of being filled to the brim with a man more perfect than the sunset over dragonspine

“archons—albedo-ah!”

he lets a groan next to your ear, opting to start sucking on your neck to avoid being too loud. you mewl at the way he suckles perfectly on your sweet spot and oh how his tongue laps at your skin makes you so so weak

he slowly lays you back down on the bed, removing his arms from around your waist which causes you to let out a sound of dissatisfaction before gasping when he slips his hands into yours and pins them on the sides of your head

“you’re mine—mine, all mine”

his pace is practically animalistic and he’s almost growling at you, you’ve never seen him this primal and it makes you tighten around his thick cock

you start to feel your stomach tighten as the familiar buildup of your high arrives, you try your best to warn albedo with anything, words or sounds, yet you struggle to even get anything out because you’re in suck a daze of how amazing this feels

but not to worry, albedo knows. he knows by the way you tremble underneath him and how your gummy walls grip onto him like a vice, he lifts his head from your neck and crashes his lips into yours

it’s sudden and rough but albedo doesn’t care, all that matters to him right now is shoving his tongue in your mouth and being surrounded by your warmth

“c-cumming! bedo!!”

you can’t help it when your orgasm hits you so hard you feel like a freight train just slammed into you, the feeling takes over your entire body and you can’t seem to find words to come out of your mouth

arching your back from the bed and squeezing albedo’s hands you manage to not pass out while having one of the best orgasms of your life

and albedo is right there with you, he moans into your mouth he pushes his hips as far as possible into yours and rocks them back and forth gently when he finally starts to come down from his own high

after catching your breaths and staring at each other you both smile and you open your arms to him, he gladly embraces you and without words the two of you fall asleep together

unfortunately for your neighbor mona she happened to hear…. well. everything.

tags: @aventurinesweetheart

[taylor-titmouse]

hey i want to talk about how you should be promoting your work as an erotic author/illustrator

i'm writing this up because the marketing aspect of my work as an erotic author/illustrator is a science to me, and also because i'm the guy who gets unreasonably annoyed when i see other creators not properly advertising their work. you presumably want to make money off your work. this post will be written under the assumption you want to make money off your work but are doing a bad job at it. it will be very confrontational. if you read this and feel attacked you're right and i am attacking you.

this is geared toward selling erotic comics/writing/books/art as products. i will probably write more than one post about this subject so if i didn't touch on something you want to know more about, comment/send me an ask and i'll keep it in mind for the next one.

i will start with my first and least specific but most important point:

DON'T GET FUCKING CUTE

hi are you paying attention. i'm gripping you by the sides of your face. do not get fucking cute with what you are trying to sell. you are not a big enough property to get cute, nobody LIKES it when big properties get cute, and you are selling porn. you have to own this. you have to be up front about this. don't be tongue in cheek, don't be all teehee i wonder what this could be~, don't be secretive. you are selling a product. you have to fucking act like it. you are an adult selling pornography to other adults. i am GRIPPING your HEAD you NEED to understand this.

and to be clear when i say 'cute' i mean coy. i don't mean cutesy, as in the aesthetic. you can be as hello kitty pastel ten emojis a post uwu as you like when you're building your audience and generating hype. but when you start trying to sell, don't be vague, don't be sarcastic, don't mislabel your work as a joke and assume everyone is on it. because they're not.

you must always assume 75% of the people seeing the thing you are advertising have no fucking idea who you are. and that includes a huge chunk of the people who already follow you. they do not know who you are or what you've been working on for two months or why they should care about it. they just got here. somebody just reposted it. they are seeing it for the first time. most people are only looking at social media for a tiny chunk of their day. they are not keeping up with you. you cannot get cute about what you are trying to sell because nobody knows what it is until you tell them.

okay are you still with me. we are going to talk about clarity now.

YOU GOTTA TELL ME WHAT IT IS

good lord the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's comic or book and had no idea what's actually in it or what it's about. who are the characters? why should i care about them? what do they do in it? what is the premise of this thing you want me to spend $5 on? why would you not tell me? i'm shaking you again. please i have to know what i'm buying i only have so much money to spend on porn.

porn, arguably more than any other genre, relies on knowing exactly what is in it. you do not want to surprise your readers with a kink they were unaware of! and on the flip side, you do not want to miss out on your target audience! if your book contains a hot spider babe laying eggs in an elf, you have to say so. not just so people who don't want to read about eggs know it isn't for them, but so the people who are egg crazy can see that and go "oh fuck YES i love EGGS here is my $5 and an extra $2 tip for catering to me specifically". a contents/features list is as much an advertisement as it is a warning!

as for re: who the characters are and why should i care, i'm sorry but you need to learn how to write sales copy. you have to write blurbs. you have to get good at the shit that goes on the back of a book. we all hate it but we have to do it. i want to know who the characters are and what the context is. i, personally, am not interested in contemporary stories as much as fantasy and historical. please tell me what genre this porn exists in so i know if it aesthetically appeals to me. pull some books off your shelves and see how they do it. hell man go look at mine.

while you're there, note that every single book of mine has a sample of what's in it. this feels like such a no-brainer to me but again! the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's work and they don't show me what their work looks like! you gotta give me the first page or two! just enough that i know if i like the way your writing sounds, or the way you draw your comics! i don't know you! i am not going to trust that you're good at what you do just based on a cover. the cover is to get me to this step, it is not the only step. you have to show me that you're worth spending my money on!

to put it less cynically, you want to catch my interest. you want me to go 'oh i want to see more of this', you want me to go 'ahh i want to know where this goes!' you need to get me invested and craving more. earn my $5!!!

YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT EASY TO GIVE YOU MONEY

hey go look at your bio right now. go look at your pinned post. do you have a link to your patreon there? do you have a link to your itchio/gumroad/whatever? do i have to click more than once to get to the places you want me to go to give you money? why? why are you making me click twice? have we learned nothing from every website making you click an extra time when they make some stupid UI update and how much it pisses us off? i have already given up, i have forgotten you, i am not giving you my $5 today. put your links in the easiest places to get to them.

god literally as i was writing this post i went to go find somebody's itchio to see how they described their work and it was not anywhere on their profile. grabbing you and shaking you PUT THE LINK WHERE I CAN FIND IT. don't make it hard! make it easy! i am a dickhead sitting on the toilet scrolling, saw your post, and was interested enough to read further. but you made me go to your bio to find your linktree and oops i have already gone back to my timeline to look at the boobies in the next post. stop wasting precious bio space on DNIs and put your fuckin links there!!!

this is more for the twitter people, but: just put the link in the damn post. just say the word commission. just say it's for patreon. "wuh wuh the algorithm" it is not the damn algorithm it's that everybody hates advertising and nobody wants to retweet ads. putting slashes in the words doesn't do anything and you look like a fool. i have posted so much art that says it's 'a commission for ___" and it did exactly as good as any other art despite having the word commission in it. and by doing the slashes you just made it impossible for anybody to search your account for your commission information (which should be at the VERY LEAST in a post under your pinned tweet if you're not actively posting about them being open).

okay that went on a tangent i'm going to back to the point of putting the link in the tweet. put it in the first post. not in the first reply. don't tell them to go to your bio. put it in the post people are actually going to share. it's fine to put more information in the thread but people are only ever going to share the first post. so put the link there. you have to make it easy. putting links in tweets can hurt you algorithmically, even in the replies. so you're better off having it in the post that actually gets seen and shared. i don't want to open the tweet and scroll to get to your sales page where i ASSUME you will have put all the information anyway. put it in the tweet that just got retweeted by itself onto my dash!

also you have to share it a ton of times. i repost my shit every few hours when i'm trying to push a new product. as i said before people are not 24/7 looking at their timelines. they missed it the first time. they missed it the second time. they didn't get paid yet that week but they were after the eighth time and you reminded them again so they finally bought it. that i will still get sales every time i repost a book ad weeks after release says there are always people who missed it, or who only just showed up.

abandon your pride and shill. shills pay their bills. anyone who gets annoyed about it isn't giving you money in the first place. don't worry about looking like a sell out. don't apologize for plugging your own work. post about it often, post about it in different ways. post about it. post about it. you are not going to make money if people don't know you have something to sell them. if you want to make a career out of it, you need to act like it.

I DON'T HAVE A FOURTH POINT

kisses your forehead. i'm sorry for yelling at you. i've been making and publishing and selling adult art for the past two-three years and have got myself to the point where it pays my rent, and i got there by paying attention to what does and does not work.

please do your best to make money. i want you to make money.

as i said above i plan to write more posts on this subject, such as cover design, how to actually write sales copy, and best practices with running a patreon, but if there's things you would want to hear more about leave a comment or send an ask! i will probably be less aggressive on future topics. these are just things that have grinded my gears for a grip.

[fruitiesss]

bob reynolds NSFW alphabet !

as requested lol, i listened to the people and the people want bob smut.

MINORS + AGELESS DNI. SMUT.

send requests in! characters are on my pinned posts, just give me a hot minute to write them ^^

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Bob's very into cuddling and being close in general, he's also a human heater so if you're not cold you're gonna have to push him off until you are (his pouty face ensues). If it was really messy, he'll run a bath and get in with you situated on his lap. He keeps water bottles by the bed and isn't above running quickly to the store to grab some food if you need it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Bob likes his hands. They're almost constantly in use because he likes to fidget and read, so he's more than capable with them, and he loves the way you come apart under them.

He'd like your thighs and hips, it's something to hold onto while he fucks into you or when you ride him. He also loves the squishiness of them, much better than any stress relief toys you buy him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Bob's never been in the place mentally (or physically) to risk having a kid at his age. He's always used condoms or pulled out when he's been in quick hook-ups before (though not many, he's quite inexperienced). You would have to sit him down and discuss kids with him first, but even then he's still hesitant and nervous.

He prefers to cum on your stomach or back if you'd let him. He cleans it up fast though, knowing the stickiness when it dries is less than desirable.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He rarely watches porn - why would he need to, he has you! - but does when you're away on a long mission or a trip. He takes inspiration from it and tries to incorporate a position or kink he'd watched that he thought you might like.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) This boy is inexperienced. As I said before, he's had a few hook-ups here and there but he's never been interested enough to learn. You're gonna have to teach him a few things and he is so eager to please you in any way you want. He's incredibly good at following orders.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) COWGIRL. FUCKING RIDE HIM HE WILL CUM INSTANTLY. Just the way he can see you - all of you - makes him harder than a fucking rock. Ugh, this man will have his hands anywhere, eyes half lidded in pure bliss as he watches you bounce.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Bob's a mix of both. He's serious when he's concentrating, trying to reach the spot that makes your toes curl, but he laughs and jokes with you when he's not. He can't take himself seriously and neither can you, it feels so good but it's also really funny.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) He's never taken care of himself properly before. Now that he's clean, he probably trims a little down there so it's not completely unbearable but he won't be smooth or clean shaven. He dyed his hair blonde ONCE and nobody will let him forget it, so YES the carpet matches the drapes thank you. He also doesn't mind if you shave or not. Hair is natural and he understands that, he actually prefers if you don't shave, as long as you're clean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Sex for him is all about connection. He's done the unfeeling, unromantic stuff before and he hates it. You are his everything and he needs you to know that. He's complimenting you with every other word, letting you know how much he loves you or how good you make him feel. He is all about you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) He rarely jacks off because you're right there all the time. Though when you're out of town or on a long mission he will do it a couple of times just to keep himself sated until you can come back. He's needy for you always.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) BOB LIKES HIS HAIR BEING PULLED. Grab it by the roots and pull and he will give you the sweetest sound you've ever heard. He loves praise too, call him a good boy and he's already on his knees for you so he can do anything you want. He's a switch 100%, will do anything you want but likes to be dominated sometimes.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) He likes being in bed with you, he's very hesitant to do anything in public because you're his to see and he's yours to see. He will if you really want to, but he won't like it. When he's really needy, he'll corner you wherever you are in the tower until you take him up to one of your rooms, with him following like a dog on a leash.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) You. If you're in the mood, he's in the mood. If he sees you, he's in the mood. Wearing something revealing? He's on you. You opened the floodgates when you first laid with him now lie in the bed you made.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) He's not into any kind of bodily fluid (other than cum, obviously) or anything where he hurts you or you hurt him. He refuses to lay a hand on you. Unless it's a soft slap. Impact play is a big no no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He likes to get his dick sucked. He loves it, actually. You look so pretty on your knees with his cock in your mouth. He prefers giving, though! He wasn't so good at it when he started out but he has definitely gotten much better since he started out and he is a MUNCH. This man will spend hours between your legs if he can, his intense eyes staring into yours.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Bob as a person is very soft and sweet despite everything he's been through. He would take it slow and sweet with you, afraid to break you as if you were made of glass. He could take you fast and rough but he wouldn't be able to keep it up.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) He doesn't like them. Too fast, it blurs in his head. He needs to know you're satisfied before he can leave you. He will take you for a quickie if you really, really beg him and only if you're in a place where you can't get to your beds.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) He likes to experiment with anything you bring to him. He'll do anything (other than his nos) at least once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Thanks to his powers, he has very good stamina. He'll last about 6 rounds with water breaks in between but if you wanted more, he will give you more. Anything for you. He'd last the whole day for you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He's never seen the need for them. His hand did the job just fine when he was low on money (or needed the money for drugs) and even now he doesn't see the need for toys. He doesn't get jealous if you have any toys either, he'll use them on you if you're into that.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He thinks he's a tease but really he gives in whenever you so much as pout at him or whine. He's so smitten for you and wants to provide everything you need.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Bob will be quiet at first, biting into his hand to stifle any of his moans or grunts so he can fully hear the beautiful noises he elicits from you. But that's when he's on top. Get him submissive and that boy is LOUD for you. Pull his hair and he WILL moan. Overstimulate him and he WILL whine.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He likes to bite and suck marks into your skin. Especially in those spots that are hard to cover up. It gives him a sense of pride, knowing that he did that to you. He's also very bitey in general. Very cute.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) He's not small at all but he'd not HUGE. I'd say he's 6 inches, nice and thick. Knows how to use it once he gets the hang of sex in general. It curves slightly to the left and has a nice pink tip, cut.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) This guy is super needy. He's ready for you at any time, you just need to ask and he's already pouncing on you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He only lets himself fall asleep once he's sure you're comfortable enough to. He is very sleepy after, though. He's falling asleep as he's scrubbing you in the bath, head slumping forward onto your shoulder until you nudge him. Once you're taken care of though, he's out like a light on the bed.

[cloudyluun]

Silver Springs | (famous!harry x famous!reader)

Summary: Falling for Harry Styles was never part of Y/N’s plan. As the daughter of Stevie Nicks, she’s spent her whole life running from the spotlight, carving out her own identity in the indie rock scene. But when fate keeps pulling her back into his orbit, resisting becomes impossible.

A slow-burn friends-to-lovers romance filled with stolen glances, whispered lyrics, and a love too big to keep secret forever. Featuring: a dramatic rain-soaked love confession, a very public grand gesture, and enough Fleetwood Mac references to make Stevie proud.

Because some love stories are meant to be legendary.

A/N: Okay, but why was this request everything I’ve ever wanted in a fic?? The slow burn?? The secret relationship angst?? The messy, desperate, I-can’t-breathe-without-you love confession?? And let’s not even talk about that post-confession smut scene because I need a moment. To the lovely soul who requested this, thank you for feeding my drama-loving heart. This was so much fun to write, and I definitely got way too emotionally attached. (Also, I need a rockstar AU in real life ASAP.) ALSO I’m sorry, I definitely overdid the scene dividers oops.

Word Count: 8,5k

Warnings: 

Slow-burn tension that hurts (but in a good way)

Secret relationship chaos

One rain-soaked love confession

One hot, messy, emotional SMUT scene (18+)

Paparazzi stress & PR nightmares

A duet so romantic it might ruin your standards

Fleetwood Mac lyrics used as emotional warfare

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Y/N had been born with the weight of a legacy she never asked for.

From the moment she took her first breath, the world had already decided who she was. The daughter of Stevie Nicks. Rock royalty. A ghost of the past in a modern world. The media had never let her be anything else. They picked apart her features, searching for traces of her mother—the same high cheekbones, the same wild hair. They hunted for echoes of Fleetwood Mac in the songs she wrote, dissecting every lyric, every melody, desperate to find a connection. And when they couldn’t?

They made one up.

Her father’s identity had been a secret from the start, a mystery wrapped in whispered rumors and unanswered questions. Some tabloids swore he had been a rockstar, a fleeting love affair lost in the haze of the ‘70s. Others speculated he had been someone ordinary, someone her mother had chosen to protect from the chaos of her world. Y/N had stopped wondering a long time ago. Her mother had always said, "You don’t need to know where you come from to know where you’re going, baby." And maybe that was true. But sometimes, when she looked at herself in the mirror, she wished she knew which parts of her belonged to Stevie Nicks and which belonged to a stranger.

Still, despite the world’s obsession with her past, Y/N had built something of her own.

Her music was raw, poetic—a fusion of indie rock and dreamlike lyricism that belonged entirely to her. She wasn’t interested in stadiums or radio hits; she wanted songs that lingered in the bones, the kind that made people ache without knowing why.

And yet, no matter what she did, the headlines always found a way to reduce her to a footnote in her mother’s story.

"Stevie Nicks’ Daughter Haunts the Music Scene—Can She Ever Escape Her Mother’s Shadow?" "The Princess of Rock ‘n’ Roll: Y/N Nicks Inherits a Legacy of Magic and Tragedy."

She ignored them. Mostly.

But some nights, when the whiskey burned too much and the music wasn’t enough, she wondered if she’d ever just be herself.

The first time Y/N met Harry Styles, she was fifteen.

It was a warm summer night in Los Angeles, the kind where the air was thick with nostalgia, humming with the remnants of a golden era long gone.

Fleetwood Mac was playing at The Forum, and backstage was a haze of cigarette smoke, laughter, and the scent of aged leather. It was a world Y/N had always known, one that felt like home and yet never quite belonged to her.

She had been curled up on one of the velvet couches, her combat boots propped up on a glass table, flipping through an old notebook of half-written lyrics.

Her mother had walked in then, a force of nature even in her sixties, wrapped in flowing black fabric, rings glinting under the dim lights. And beside her—

Harry.

He had been twenty, freshly cut from the boyband machine but still unmistakably him. Messy curls, dimples carved deep into his cheeks, a floral button-up that hung loose over his chest. There was an ease to him, a confidence that most people his age hadn’t yet earned.

Stevie had smiled, her voice all warmth and amusement as she introduced them.

"Harry, this is my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, sweetheart, this is Harry Styles."

Y/N had barely spared him a glance, disinterested in the way only a fifteen-year-old girl could be.

She had looked him up and down, unimpressed, before muttering, "Oh. You’re the boy with the hair."

There had been a beat of silence. Then—

Harry had grinned, wide and unbothered. "And you’re the girl who hates the spotlight."

That had made her pause.

She had finally looked at him properly then, taking in the twinkle of mischief in his green eyes, the way he had spoken to her like he knew her, like he could already see the edges of her soul.

She had hated that.

So she had rolled her eyes, shutting her notebook with a snap. "Yeah? What gave it away?"

Harry had only chuckled. "Just a feeling."

They hadn’t known it then, but that moment—that first careless exchange in the glow of The Forum’s dressing rooms—had been the beginning of something that would follow them for years.

They had drifted in and out of each other’s lives after that, their paths crossing at industry events, in backstage corridors, in places where music and fame blurred the lines between strangers and something more.

But they had never been close.

Not yet.

That would come later.

And when it did, neither of them would be able to stop it.

It was a city built on illusions, a place where the past and present blurred under neon lights and whiskey-soaked conversations. People changed here, or they lost themselves trying.

Y/N had spent years learning how to exist in the industry without letting it consume her. She had built walls, wrapped herself in the armor of cigarette smoke and sharp words, refusing to let the world shape her into something she wasn’t.

But some nights—nights like this—she felt the weight of it all pressing against her ribs.

She had been in the music industry long enough to know that these parties weren’t really about music. They were about power. Influence. The quiet, calculated dance of networking, where every glance and every handshake meant something.

Y/N hated it.

And yet, here she was.

The party was in the Hollywood Hills, tucked away in a mansion that reeked of old money and new fame. The kind of place where people got too drunk on tequila and promises they wouldn’t remember in the morning.

She had come because she had to—because being seen mattered, even when she wished it didn’t.

She was twenty-five now, no longer the sharp-tongued teenager who had met Harry Styles in the glow of The Forum’s dressing rooms.

She had grown into herself.

And so had he.

She saw him before he saw her.

Harry was in the center of the room, as he always was, laughter spilling from his lips as he leaned against a marble bar, his rings catching in the dim light.

He looked different now—older, surer, carved out of something stronger.

The curls were shorter, but still wild. The tattoos more visible, inked stories along his skin. He wore a suit, something sleek and expensive, but the top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a silver cross against his collarbones.

Even here, surrounded by actors and musicians and people who pretended they belonged, he was the only one who looked like he truly did.

Y/N had spent years pretending she was immune to the charm of men like him.

But as she stood there, watching the way he moved, the way people gravitated toward him, she felt something stir in her chest.

Something she didn’t want to name.

She turned away, heading toward the bar, but it was already too late.

She heard his voice before she felt his presence.

“Well, if it isn’t rock royalty.”

Y/N exhaled, bracing herself, before turning to face him.

Harry was smiling, that slow, lazy grin that had made girls weak in the knees for over a decade.

“Pop star,” she greeted, raising an eyebrow.

His dimples deepened. “Didn’t think this was your scene.”

Y/N shrugged, lifting her whiskey glass. “It isn’t.”

Harry’s gaze flickered over her, assessing. “Then why are you here?”

“Same reason you are,” she said, taking a slow sip. “To remind people we still exist.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t have to remind anyone, love. They never forget a Nicks.”

There was something in the way he said it—something almost… knowing.

She tilted her head, watching him. “And they never forget a Styles.”

His smirk deepened. “Touché.”

The conversation between them felt effortless, the kind of back-and-forth that came with years of shared history, even if most of it had been from a distance.

She had always liked that about him.

That he could meet her wit for wit. That he never backed down.

That night, they danced around the past without ever acknowledging it, teasing each other between sips of whiskey and stolen glances.

He called her "rock princess" like it was a private joke.

She called him "pop star" with just enough mockery to make him laugh.

The undercurrent of something more was there—tangible, electric, waiting to be acknowledged.

But neither of them touched it.

Not yet.

Later, when the party had thinned and the air inside had grown heavy with heat and smoke, Y/N slipped outside.

She kicked off her heels, stepping onto the cool stone of the balcony, and lit a cigarette with steady fingers.

The view of the city stretched before her, a glittering sea of headlights and broken dreams.

She inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine settle in her lungs, humming a familiar melody under her breath—one of her mother’s, an old Fleetwood Mac song that had been stitched into her bones long before she was born.

She didn’t hear him approach.

Didn’t realize he was there until he spoke.

“Still hate the spotlight?”

His voice was softer now, missing the teasing edge from before.

She exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the night. “I hate what it does to people.”

Harry leaned against the railing beside her, silent for a moment, as if turning over her words in his head.

Then, he huffed a quiet laugh. “Still the girl who hates everything?”

Y/N smirked, side-eyeing him. “Still the boy with the hair?”

Harry grinned, running a hand through his curls. “I like to think there’s more to me than that.”

Something unspoken passed between them then.

A shift. A breath.

A moment on the edge of something inevitable.

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them said a word.

But in the silence, they both felt it.

A crack in the walls they had spent years building.

A spark that had always been there, waiting for the right time to catch fire.

Harry called her three weeks after the party.

It was late—too late for anything that wasn’t trouble.

She had been sprawled across her bed, an open notebook balanced on her stomach, trying to piece together a song that didn’t want to be written, when her phone buzzed against the nightstand.

She didn’t need to check the name.

There was only one person who would call her at this hour, as if he knew she’d still be awake.

She let the phone ring twice before answering. “You lost, pop star?”

Harry chuckled, his voice low and lazy. “Not lost, no. Just… thought of you.”

Y/N rolled onto her side, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear. “Oh? Should I be flattered?”

“Dunno.” He paused. “Wanna come to the studio tomorrow?”

That made her sit up.

She knew Harry was working on a new album. The industry had been buzzing about it for months, but he had been careful—secretive, even—about who he let in.

And now, he was inviting her.

Y/N hesitated for only a second before saying, “What time?”

She arrived at the studio the next evening, her guitar slung over her back, dressed in a well-worn Fleetwood Mac t-shirt just to mess with him.

Harry was already there, sitting on the edge of a couch with a notebook in his lap, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the cover.

He looked up when she walked in, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Didn’t think you’d actually show.”

Y/N dropped onto the couch beside him, stretching out like she owned the place. “Didn’t think you actually had a studio. Thought you just wrote love songs in expensive hotel rooms.”

Harry chuckled, flipping the notebook shut. “Maybe I do both.”

The night unfolded in quiet moments and half-sung melodies.

She watched as he disappeared into the recording booth, slipping the headphones over his ears, eyes fluttering shut as the music took over.

And for the first time, she let herself really listen to him.

Harry had always been a good singer. That much was obvious. But there was something about watching him like this—seeing the way he poured himself into every lyric, the way his voice carried a rawness that no amount of polish could hide—that made her breath catch.

He was singing something new, something unfinished.

And as his voice curled around the notes, thick with longing and something unspoken, he looked up—straight at her.

Y/N’s grip tightened around her whiskey glass.

The booth’s glass separated them, but the way he stared at her—intense, knowing, like he could see straight through her—made her feel like there was nothing between them at all.

She swallowed hard, looking away first.

Harry smirked.

One studio session turned into two. Two turned into three.

And then, before she knew it, she was on a plane with him, tucked into first-class seats as his tour swept across the country.

She told herself she was just tagging along for inspiration, a creative escape.

She told herself it didn’t mean anything.

But the late nights in hotel rooms told a different story.

They fell into a rhythm—drinking whiskey on balconies, trading lyrics like secrets, letting conversations slip into the kind of honesty that only existed between two people who didn’t want to admit what they were to each other.

Some nights, they wrote.

Some nights, they just existed—stretched out on hotel carpets, hands brushing when they passed the bottle back and forth, staring at ceilings like they held the answers to questions neither of them wanted to ask.

She hadn’t expected this.

Hadn’t expected the way he looked at her when she wasn’t paying attention.

Hadn’t expected the way she wanted to memorize the shape of his laughter.

Hadn’t expected the way she craved him, in the quiet, in the spaces between words, in the way his voice curled around her name like it was something sacred.

One night, she fell asleep in his hotel room.

They had been listening to records, the vinyl crackling in the background, the bottle of whiskey between them half-empty.

She had kicked off her boots at some point, curling up on the couch, his hoodie draped over her shoulders like she belonged in it.

Harry had been mid-sentence when he noticed she wasn’t answering.

He turned, finding her tucked into the cushions, her breathing soft, her hair spilling across her face.

Something in his chest tightened.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw, telling himself to let it go.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned in, brushing her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering a second too long.

She stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

And for the briefest moment, Harry let himself want it—let himself imagine what it would feel like to close the space between them, to taste the whiskey on her lips, to see if she’d kiss him back or push him away.

He hovered there, so close, so fucking close—

And then he pulled back.

Shoving a hand through his curls, he let out a quiet curse, grabbing the nearest blanket and draping it over her instead.

Not now, he told himself.

Not yet.

He sat back, forcing himself to look away.

But even in the dark, even in the silence, he knew.

He was already in too deep.

London was cold, the kind of damp chill that clung to bones and made her wish she was still waking up in different hotel rooms, still stealing sips of his morning coffee, still pretending she didn’t care when he hummed her songs under his breath.

The withdrawal was annoying.

But not unexpected.

She had just finished scribbling notes for a new song when her phone rang.

“You still in town?”

She smirked, setting her pen down. “Didn’t know you missed me so much, pop star.”

Harry chuckled, that deep, lazy sound that made something twist in her stomach. “Not even denying it, are you?”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you want, Styles?”

“Dinner.”

That made her pause.

Sure, they had spent weeks living in each other’s pockets—whiskey-soaked late nights, studio sessions stretched into dawn, long looks across dimly lit dressing rooms—but this felt… different.

Intentional.

Like he was asking for something neither of them were ready to name.

Still, she played it cool. “Where?”

“I’ll text you.” A pause. “Wear something nice.”

She showed up to the restaurant in a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and her mother’s old silver rings.

Let him try and tell her what to wear.

Harry was already there, tucked into a quiet corner, a half-full glass of red wine in front of him. His curls were messier than usual, his sweater hanging loose on his frame, and the moment he saw her, his dimples deepened.

“Very fancy,” he teased, flicking the collar of her jacket as she slid into the seat across from him.

Y/N smirked. “If you wanted a date, you should’ve said so.”

Harry’s lips twitched. “Didn’t say I didn’t.”

The air shifted.

She ignored the way her pulse quickened, instead reaching for the menu. “So. What’s good here?”

They fell into easy conversation, talking about the tour, the highs and lows, the stupid inside jokes they’d collected along the way.

But somewhere between the laughter and the second glass of wine, the mood softened.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” she asked, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers.

Harry tilted his head. “Of what?”

“Being… this.” She gestured vaguely at him, at the world outside the restaurant doors, at the weight of fame that followed them both. “The cameras, the expectations, the pressure. Do you ever just wanna disappear?”

Harry studied her, running his thumb along the rim of his glass.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But then I remember why I started. And it’s not about all the noise. It’s about the music. About…” He exhaled, shaking his head with a small smile. “About moments like this.”

Y/N felt her heart lurch before she could stop it.

She cleared her throat, forcing a smirk. “Sappy.”

Harry grinned, leaning back in his chair. “You love it.”

She did.

That was the problem.

They should have known better.

A quiet dinner in London? No such thing.

The next morning, the headlines were everywhere.

Harry Styles and Rock Royalty: A New Power Couple?

The Fleetwood Mac Connection—Is Y/N Following Her Mother’s Footsteps in Love, Too?

Spotted: Harry & Y/N, Cozy London Date Night or Just Old Friends?

Y/N groaned, tossing her phone onto the kitchen counter. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Harry’s name lit up her screen.

She answered without greeting. “Tell me this will blow over.”

Harry chuckled. “It’ll blow over.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am.” Another laugh. “We could deny it.”

“Obviously.”

“Or…”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Or?”

Harry’s grin was practically audible. “Could always lean into it.”

She snorted. “You wish, Styles.”

He hummed. “Yeah, maybe I do.”

Her stomach flipped.

Before she could respond, there was a knock on her door.

“Gotta go.” She hung up quickly, shaking off the warmth curling in her chest.

Then she opened the door.

And found her mother standing there, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

Y/N barely had a chance to step aside before Stevie breezed past her, silk scarves trailing, the scent of patchouli and incense filling the space.

She made a beeline for the kitchen, plucked Y/N’s phone off the counter, and squinted at the headlines.

Y/N sighed. “Good morning to you, too.”

Stevie hummed, tapping a red-lacquered fingernail against the screen. “So… you and Harry Styles.”

Y/N groaned. “For fuck’s sake, it’s nothing.”

Stevie arched a delicate brow, taking a slow sip of her tea. “Sure, baby. Keep telling yourself that.”

Y/N scowled. “It’s not love.”

Stevie’s lips curled into a knowing smile.

“Love is messy in this business, honey.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, snatching her phone back. “I wouldn’t know.”

Stevie just laughed, something soft and far too smug in her gaze.

Because she knew.

Long before Y/N was willing to admit it to herself.

She spotted him immediately.

Harry.

Leaning against the marble bar, whiskey in hand, dimples out in full force as he laughed at something Lizzo said. He looked too good, annoyingly good, all effortless charm and understated power in his black suit, his sheer shirt open just enough to tease golden skin and the sharp edge of his collarbone.

Y/N swallowed hard.

It had been weeks since the headlines. Since her mother’s knowing smile. Since she had convinced herself she wasn’t thinking about him like that.

But now, with the golden glow of the chandeliers casting shadows over his cheekbones, his green eyes flicking up to meet hers across the room—she felt it.

The pull. The inevitable, undeniable pull.

She found herself at his side before she could think better of it, sliding onto the barstool beside him.

Harry glanced at her, eyes flicking over her outfit—a silk slip dress in deep navy, barely-there straps, silver chains glinting against her collarbone. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers tightening around his whiskey glass.

Interesting.

Y/N smirked, plucking an olive from the garnish tray and popping it into her mouth. “Enjoying yourself, pop star?”

Harry exhaled a laugh, tilting his glass towards her. “Was just about to ask you the same thing, rock princess.”

She arched a brow. “You clean up well.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “So do you.”

Her breath hitched, but she masked it with a slow sip of her drink.

They fell into easy conversation, but the teasing was sharper tonight, laced with something dangerous. He was closer than usual, his knee brushing against hers, his fingers grazing the inside of her wrist when he reached for his drink.

And every time she laughed, his eyes flickered to her lips.

Sometime after midnight, when the party was loudest and the drinks were strongest, Y/N felt the walls closing in.

She had spent the last hour with his hand on the small of her back, his voice low in her ear, his eyes dark and unreadable whenever she so much as looked at someone else.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

So she grabbed his wrist.

“Come with me.”

Harry blinked, surprised, but let her lead him through the crowd, up a grand staircase, and through a side door that led to the rooftop.

The city stretched out below them, glittering in the darkness. The muffled bass of the party throbbed beneath their feet, but up here, the air was crisp, cool against flushed skin.

Harry ran a hand through his curls, exhaling. “Y’finally had enough of all that?”

Y/N scoffed. “I just needed to breathe.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“You think about it too, don’t you?”

Her stomach clenched.

She turned to him, arms crossed. “Think about what?”

Harry took a step closer. “This.”

Her heart hammered. “Harry—”

“I think about you too much,” he admitted, voice quiet but firm, like he had been holding it in for years.

The air crackled between them.

Y/N’s nails bit into her palms. Her voice was steady when she said, “Then do something about it.”

Harry moved before she could take it back.

His hand found her jaw, fingers tilting her face up to his. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his breath fanning against her lips—giving her a chance to stop it, to pull away.

She didn’t.

So he kissed her.

Slow at first, teasing, like he wanted to savor the moment. His lips were soft but firm, tasting like whiskey and warmth, like something she hadn’t realized she had been starving for.

And when she kissed him back, something inside him snapped.

A groan rumbled in his throat as he deepened it, his other hand sliding around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The cold rooftop wall pressed against her back, his body against her front, caging her in.

She melted.

Her fingers tangled in his curls, tugging just enough to make him growl into her mouth. She felt his smirk against her lips before he kissed her harder, licking into her mouth like he wanted to learn every single inch of her.

The city blurred around them.

There was only this.

Only him.

Only the moment they had spent years pretending they didn’t want.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N was breathless, lips tingling, her hands still fisted in his hair.

Harry smirked, eyes dark and hazy.

“Was wondering when you’d let me do that.”

Y/N let out a breathless laugh, her fingers tracing his jaw.

“Shut up and do it again.”

And so he did.

They didn’t talk about it, not really.

They just acted.

And once that line had been crossed, there was no going back.

The secrecy of it all was intoxicating.

It turned the smallest moments into something electric—her fingers grazing his when she passed him a drink, the press of his palm against her lower back as he guided her through a crowd.

They stole kisses behind dressing room doors, in dimly lit hallways, in the backseat of a blacked-out SUV. It was a game neither of them acknowledged but both played with fervor.

It was thrilling.

It was dangerous.

It was them.

Harry had sent her nothing but a single text:

Room 1107. Door’s open.

So she went.

The moment she stepped inside, he was already reaching for her.

His hands were warm as they slid around her waist, pulling her in. His lips found hers before she could even make a remark about his audacity, and suddenly she was backed up against the wall, gasping softly into his mouth as his fingers gripped the hem of her hoodie—the one she had stolen from his suitcase weeks ago.

It smelled like him.

It felt like home.

“Missed you,” he muttered against her lips, his voice rough with exhaustion but laced with something softer, something sweeter.

She smirked, her fingers curling into his T-shirt. “You saw me three hours ago.”

Harry hummed, dragging his lips down the column of her throat. “Still too long.”

She rolled her eyes, but the shiver down her spine betrayed her.

But sleep had other plans.

Y/N woke up tangled in crisp white sheets, her limbs a lazy sprawl across the mattress. The scent of Harry—cologne, whiskey, and something distinctly him—wrapped around her like a second skin.

And then—

A knock at the door.

Her eyes flew open.

Harry groaned into the pillow beside her. “Fuck’s sake.”

“Harry? You up?”

His assistant.

Shit.

Y/N scrambled upright, heart racing. She barely had time to throw on his hoodie before Harry was tugging her off the bed, dragging her toward the closet.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me,” she hissed.

He just grinned, pushing the door open. “Get in.”

“Harry—”

“In, love.”

She barely had time to flip him off before he shut the door behind her, sealing her in darkness.

Y/N pressed a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, crouched between his suitcases, her bare legs chilled by the cool air inside.

She could hear everything.

The door creaking open.

Harry’s voice, rough from sleep. “Morning.”

The assistant’s knowing tone. “You sound like shit.”

A pause.

Y/N could feel the smirk in Harry’s response. “Yeah, well. Long night.”

Her glare could have burned through the door.

From the other side, she heard rustling—probably his assistant rifling through a bag.

Then—

“Oh, and by the way? If you’re gonna sneak someone in, maybe don’t leave two pairs of shoes by the door next time.”

Silence.

Y/N’s stomach dropped.

Harry, to his credit, barely missed a beat.

“Right. Yeah. Noted.”

The door shut a moment later.

She barely had time to breathe before the closet door swung open, revealing Harry’s smug, dimpled grin.

“Next time,” he murmured, offering his hand to pull her up, “you’re hiding under the bed.”

Y/N smacked his chest.

And then kissed him.

It was meant to be quick—just a press of lips in playful retaliation—but Harry wasn’t one to let a moment slip away. His fingers curled around her waist, holding her there, deepening the kiss. It was languid, familiar, the kind of kiss that tasted like late nights and secrets, like comfort and hunger all at once.

She sighed against his mouth. “I should go.”

“I know.”

Neither of them moved.

It was only when the morning light began creeping through the curtains, spilling over their tangled limbs, that she forced herself to untangle from him. Harry stayed in bed, arm draped over his forehead, watching as she slipped into her jeans and pulled on his hoodie—her own top lost somewhere in the haze of the night before.

His voice was hoarse from sleep. “At least let me get you a car.”

“I’ll call one,” she assured him, raking her fingers through her messy hair.

Harry sat up then, brows knitting together. “Y/N—”

“I’ll be fine,” she interrupted, flashing him a small smile. She pressed a last kiss to his cheek, inhaled the warmth of his skin, and slipped out of the room.

And right into a camera flash.

The second she stepped onto the pavement, she knew.

The street wasn’t exactly swarming, but one paparazzo was enough. He was already snapping rapid shots, the sound of the shutter slicing through the dawn stillness like a guillotine. She didn’t run—that would make it worse. Instead, she pulled up the hood of Harry’s sweatshirt, kept her chin down, and slid into the waiting car.

Her phone buzzed before she even reached her apartment.

Maddie: Shit. Have you seen TMZ??

Y/N’s stomach twisted. She hadn’t even shut the door behind her before she was pulling up the link.

The headline screamed at her in bold print:

Y/N Nicks Spotted Leaving Harry Styles’ Home—Rock Royalty & Pop Prince?

Her pulse pounded as she scrolled. Dozens of pictures. Some from last night when they arrived separately at his house. Some from this morning, catching her in the same outfit.

And then the comments.

Not surprised. The tension in that interview was insane. She’s not even that famous wtf. Fleetwood Mac and One Direction crossover??? Didn’t she date that bassist last year? She’s literally wearing his hoodie. IT’S HAPPENING. Harry can do better tbh.

Her fingers tightened around the phone.

She should have known.

By noon, it was everywhere. Entertainment news, gossip sites, even actual journalists weighing in on the implications of her and Harry. She ignored the notifications, silenced her phone, but then came the email from her publicist.

And worse—Harry’s PR team.

We need to get ahead of this. No comment is best for now. We’re drafting a statement.

It was bullshit.

By mid-afternoon, she was at his house.

Harry was pacing the living room, phone in one hand, stress written all over his face. He looked up when she walked in, exhaling heavily. “They want me to deny it.”

Y/N’s breath caught. “What?”

“They think—” He dragged a hand through his curls. “They think we can ride it out, wait for something else to distract them. If we say nothing, it dies faster.”

Something bitter lodged itself in her throat. “Say nothing? Or lie?”

He hesitated. And that was enough.

“You said we were in this together,” she said, voice sharp.

“We are,” he insisted. “But you know how this works, Y/N. It’s different for me. The fans.”

Her laugh was hollow. “Oh, the fans.”

“That’s not—” He sighed, shaking his head. “You know what I mean.”

“No, Harry. I don’t.” She crossed her arms. “Because last I checked, I’m in this industry too. I’ve had my entire existence scrutinized since birth. Do you think I don’t know what it’s like to have people picking apart my every move?”

His jaw clenched.

She pressed on. “But I’m not ashamed of you. And I sure as hell don’t want to pretend this isn’t real just because some PR team is scared of a few bad headlines.”

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he said, voice low.

“Then why are you acting like you are?”

Silence.

Her heart hammered.

Finally, she exhaled shakily, voice barely above a whisper. “I want us to stop hiding. Please.”

He didn’t say anything.

And maybe that was her answer.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, nodded once, and turned for the door.

The quiet thud of the door closing behind her felt heavier than it should have.

It wasn’t dramatic—no slamming, no storming out. Just the quiet finality of leaving.

And yet, it echoed.

She didn’t cry in the car. Didn’t cry when she got home. Didn’t even cry when she scrolled through Twitter and saw her name still trending, the discourse evolving by the hour.

What does Harry see in her anyway? She’s just another nepotism baby. She’s so private—does she think she’s better than his other exes? She’s clearly using him for clout. She’s lucky to have him, but he deserves someone who actually appreciates him.

Her fingers hovered over the screen before she locked her phone and tossed it onto the couch.

Let them talk. Let them spin their stories. It wasn’t like the truth mattered.

She went silent.

No Instagram stories, no late-night tweets, no cryptic lyrics. The press called it a calculated move, the fans called it suspicious, but in reality?

She just didn’t have the energy.

She slept too little and drank too much coffee. She ignored calls from her publicist. Ignored texts from mutual friends who wanted to check in but were probably just fishing for an inside scoop.

And Harry?

Harry didn’t reach out.

Not once.

Which, of all the things, hurt the most.

It had been three days.

She was at her mother’s house when it happened.

Stevie had always been able to tell when something was wrong, no matter how good Y/N thought she was at masking it. She hadn’t pried, though. Not yet. Instead, she let Y/N exist in the space, offering quiet company rather than questions.

But Y/N knew she wouldn’t escape forever.

That night, the house was quiet except for the hum of the wind outside. Stevie had gone to bed hours ago, leaving Y/N alone in the dimly lit living room, the grand piano standing in the corner like it was waiting for her.

She didn’t even realize she was walking toward it until her fingers brushed against the keys.

She sat down.

And she played.

It started as muscle memory, the chords slipping out in a familiar pattern, soft and haunting. The kind of song that lingered in the bones, that carried the weight of something unfinished.

"You could be my silver spring..."

The words came out quieter than she intended, but they were there.

"Blue-green colors flashing..."

Her voice wavered.

"I would be your only dream..."

Her fingers trembled over the keys, the melody filling the empty room.

"You will never be my lover..."

The tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them.

God.

She hadn’t cried. Not when the pictures leaked, not when the headlines turned ugly, not even when she walked away.

But here, under the weight of this song—her mother’s song—she broke.

She barely heard the footsteps approaching behind her.

But she felt the presence.

A hand, warm and familiar, rested gently on her shoulder.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t stop playing.

Stevie sat down beside her on the bench, saying nothing.

She just listened.

And when Y/N’s hands finally fell away from the keys, when her head dropped forward and her shoulders shook with silent sobs, her mother reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Oh, baby," she murmured softly.

And that was all it took for Y/N to shatter completely.

She turned into her mother’s arms, hiding her face against her shoulder as the heartbreak spilled out in ways she hadn’t allowed before.

Stevie just held her.

She didn’t say I told you so, didn’t say you knew this would happen, didn’t say I warned you, love is messy in this business.

She just let her cry.

Because what was there to say?

Y/N had been willing to fight for this. She had been willing to face the noise, the scrutiny, the world dissecting her every move—for him.

And he hadn’t even reached for her when she walked away.

She had loved him. Had let herself believe, even just for a moment, that they could exist beyond the secrets, beyond the fear.

But maybe she had been wrong.

Maybe he was never hers to begin with.

Meanwhile...

Harry hadn’t slept.

He had spent the last three days running on autopilot, going through the motions of studio sessions and meetings, pretending like everything was fine when it wasn’t.

He had tried to tell himself that this was the right move. That letting the story die on its own was the best way to protect them both.

But nothing about this felt right.

He had checked his phone a hundred times, fingers hovering over her contact, but he never typed anything. What could he say? Sorry I didn’t fight for us? Sorry I let the fear win?

He wasn’t sure what finally pushed him over the edge. Maybe it was the lack of her name in his messages, the absence of her voice. Maybe it was the fact that he had spent years wanting her and only had days before she slipped away completely.

Or maybe it was the video.

It wasn’t even a full clip, just a fifteen-second snippet someone had posted online.

Y/N, at a piano. Playing Silver Springs.

It was grainy, the lighting dim, but he knew her silhouette anywhere.

And he knew what that song meant.

His stomach dropped.

Because suddenly, it wasn’t just the weight of the media or the PR teams or the fans that mattered.

It was her.

It had always been her.

And if he didn’t move now, if he didn’t do something, he was going to lose her for good.

The rain was relentless.

It hit the pavement in steady sheets, washing the city in silver streaks and the glow of streetlights. It soaked through Harry’s clothes, plastering his shirt to his skin, curling his hair against his forehead, dripping down his jaw like the storm itself was trying to pull him under.

But he didn’t care.

His heart was hammering, his chest tight with something wild and desperate as he stood in front of her door, fist poised to knock.

This was it.

No more hiding. No more silence. No more pretending like he could live without her.

His knuckles hit the wood. Once. Twice.

Nothing.

He swallowed hard, knocking again, harder this time, rainwater slipping down his wrist.

Still nothing.

His stomach clenched. What if she wasn’t here? What if she didn’t want to be here—what if she had already left, had already moved on—

The door swung open.

And there she was.

She stood barefoot in the doorway, an oversized sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder, her hair damp, like she’d just stepped out of the shower.

She hadn’t been expecting him. That much was obvious.

Her eyes widened, lips parting slightly as she took him in—the way his shirt clung to his chest, the way water dripped from his curls, the way his breath came ragged and uneven.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then—

“Fuck the PR,” he blurted, voice raw. “Fuck the headlines.”

She blinked.

“I love you.”

The words hit the air like a lightning strike, sharp and electric.

A breath. A pause. A crack in the silence.

The rain hadn’t let up.

It streaked down the windowpanes, tapping a steady rhythm against the glass, pooling in the crevices of the street outside. The air smelled like wet pavement and something electric, something on the verge of breaking.

He stood there in her doorway, dripping onto the hardwood floors, soaked to the bone. His shirt clung to him, darkened by the rain, molded to the sharp lines of his chest and the ridges of his stomach. Water curled at his jaw, trailing down the hollow of his throat. His breaths were heavy, ragged, like he’d run here in the downpour, like nothing in the world had mattered more than making it to this moment.

And she—

She just stared.

Chest rising and falling, lips slightly parted, fingers trembling at her sides.

Silence stretched between them, thick and weighted, every unspoken word, every unshed tear, every almost hanging in the space between their bodies.

Her fingers fisted in the damp collar of his shirt.

She yanked him inside.

The door slammed behind them, but neither of them noticed.

His back hit the wood, a sharp inhale punched from his lungs as she pressed against him. Their bodies were a tangle of heat and desperation, a collision of limbs and longing, the storm outside nothing compared to the one building between them.

Her hands slid up, skimming over his shoulders, gripping the nape of his neck, pulling.

Their mouths crashed together.

It was rough. Messy. Clumsy in the way only something utterly inevitable could be.

Her nails scraped against his scalp, and he groaned into her mouth, his fingers threading into her damp hair, tugging just enough to tip her head back. His lips slanted over hers, deepening the kiss, tasting her like he was starved for it.

She gasped when his mouth trailed lower, down the curve of her jaw, the column of her throat. He bit down, just enough to leave a mark, just enough to make her shudder against him.

Her hands fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, but the fabric was stuck to him, refusing to give. Frustration twisted her features.

“Off,” she demanded, voice breathless, thick with need.

He barely pulled back long enough to shove the wet fabric off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor with a damp slap.

She pressed her palms against his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the erratic beat of his heart beneath her touch.

Then, she leaned in, running her tongue over the rain-slicked skin at his throat.

His whole body tensed.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped.

Losing Control

They didn’t make it far.

They stumbled through the flat, hands desperate, mouths never parting, breathing each other in like oxygen.

Her sweatshirt was the next casualty, pulled up and over her head, landing somewhere behind them. His hands were on her skin instantly, fingers tracing the delicate lines of her spine, dragging down, down—gripping the back of her thighs and hoisting her up.

She gasped against his lips, legs wrapping around his waist.

He walked them backward, moving blindly, guided only by instinct and the sound of her breathing, the little whimpers she made when he kissed the hollow of her throat, the way her hips shifted against him.

They hit the couch.

She was weightless for a moment, air rushing from her lungs as he dropped her onto the cushions, hovering above her, chest heaving.

His hands spread over her bare thighs, sliding up, up, until his fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts. He glanced up, meeting her gaze.

“I’ve wanted you since that first night,” he murmured, voice rough, wrecked.

Her breath caught.

A single heartbeat. A moment suspended in time.

Then she was tugging him down, capturing his mouth with hers.

Heat.

That was all she could feel.

The press of his body, the weight of him between her thighs, the scratch of his stubble against her skin as he kissed a path down her stomach.

Her nails raked down his back, catching at the waistband of his jeans, tugging. He groaned, the sound vibrating against her skin, his grip tightening on her hips as he pushed himself lower.

His lips ghosted over her navel, down further, until—

Her back arched, a sharp inhale punched from her lungs, a curse whispered into the air.

And then everything blurred.

A tangle of limbs, clothes stripped away piece by piece, moans swallowed in kisses, bodies moving together, frantic, unrestrained, the storm raging both outside and between them.

He pressed inside her with a shuddering breath, forehead dropping against hers, their hands gripping, clutching, desperate.

“Look at me,” he murmured, voice hoarse, raw with something deeper than lust.

She did.

And in that moment, it wasn’t just sex.

It was everything.

They collapsed against each other, breathless, bodies tangled.

Her cheek rested against his chest, his fingers tracing lazy circles over her bare spine.

The rain pattered softly against the window, but all she could hear was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, quietly—

“You didn’t stop me from walking away.”

He exhaled, his lips brushing over her temple. “I wanted to.”

She glanced up at him. “Then why didn’t you?”

His throat bobbed. “Because you deserved more than that.”

Her heart ached.

She shifted, fingers trailing over his jaw, over the curve of his mouth. “And now?”

His hand tightened on her waist.

“I’m done running.”

She stared at him for a beat.

Then, slowly, she smiled.

And when she kissed him, soft and lingering, he knew—

So was she.

The world could burn. The headlines could scream. The fans could theorize. The PR teams could scramble.

None of it mattered anymore.

Because they were done hiding.

They chose the timing.

They chose the words.

They chose each other.

The cameras were set up in a cozy, softly lit studio, with plush chairs and warm lighting that made everything feel a little less staged, a little more intimate. She sat beside him, their hands resting on the space between them—not quite touching, but close.

The interviewer, an older woman with kind eyes, smiled at them both.

“So,” she began, “I think it’s safe to say the world has been dying to know. What’s the truth?”

Harry exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. He glanced at Y/N, his dimples peeking out as he grinned, then looked back at the camera.

“The truth?” he repeated, voice playful, teasing.

She nudged him, a silent Behave.

He ignored it.

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging like it was the easiest thing in the world. “I’m in love with her. Always have been.”

The interviewer made a sound of delight. The world outside exploded.

She turned to Y/N, who was smiling so wide her cheeks ached.

“And you?” the interviewer asked gently.

Y/N looked at Harry.

He was already looking at her.

“I’m in love with him too,” she murmured. “Obviously.”

The arena was packed.

The energy in the air was electric, a chorus of cheers and music and flashing lights. The setlist was nearly done, the concert winding toward its final moments. But before the last song, Harry paused.

“Alright,” he murmured into the mic, stepping back from the center of the stage. “I’ve got something special for you all tonight.”

The crowd roared.

His eyes found her, standing just offstage, watching him with an amused smile.

And then—he extended his hand.

She hesitated.

Not because she didn’t want to. But because, for the first time, this wasn’t just between them. This was in front of thousands.

He must have seen it in her eyes, because he smiled—soft, reassuring, knowing. He wiggled his fingers, beckoning her.

“C’mon, love,” he said. “Duet?”

The audience screamed.

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous,” she mouthed.

But she took his hand.

The moment she stepped onto the stage, the noise doubled, an eruption of cheers and chants and camera flashes.

But none of it mattered.

Not when he was looking at her like that.

The first chords of the song played, slow and sweet, the melody wrapping around them like something sacred.

And then—

He lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

Soft.

Lingering.

Devoted.

The crowd melted.

But in that moment, as the lights bathed them in gold, as their voices wove together, as their fingers stayed entwined—

It wasn’t about the world watching.

It was about them.

Because for once, it didn’t matter who was looking.

They had each other.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

taglist: @oscahpastry @mema10 @angelbabyyy99 @iloveharrystyles04 @cinemharry @drwho06 @donutsandpalmtrees @panini @mads3502 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @one-sweet-gubler @rizosrizos26 @ciriceimpera @everyscarisahealingplace @hello-heyhi @sexymfharriet @lizsogolden @hannah9921 @chicabonitasblog @huhidontknowstuff @berrywoods1245 @jennovaaa @angeldavis777 @prettygurl-2009 @almostcontentcreator @run-for-the-hills @maudie-duan @dipmeinhoneyh @harrrrystylesslut @georgiarose94 @stylestarkey @watarmelon212 @hopefullimaginer123, @fangirl509east @bethiegurl19 @adoredeanna @secretisme4 @harry2121 @hopefullimaginer123 @fangirl509east @uncassettodiricordi @2601-london @zbaby @harryscherries28 @michellekstyles

[cherrysweets-world]

Invidia

masterlist - part two

Pairing - unrequited Geta x caracalla’s wife!Reader, Caracalla x fem!Reader

Summary- Geta wants what he can't have - his brother's wife.

Warnings - minors dni, intense pining, sexual contact, concubines, brief sex, unedited, can be read as a standalone

Word Count - 1.2k

Geta loved his brother. He knew this. Sometimes Caracalla even knew it too. However, as of late, it had been hard to remember.

The room was crowded and the air was hot and heavy. Some noble was in front of Geta, discussing some plan or other. Normally Geta at least tried to stay engaged, but tonight it was particularly difficult.

Caracalla was having no trouble staying preoccupied. No-one dared even approach his brother, lest they break his good mood. A mood brought on by his delightful new wife, who was currently sat square in Caracalla's lap.

It was unusual for noble women to engage in such openly intimate behaviour. Caracalla's happiness was so rare, though, that they didn't even look twice. If you could keep the young Emperor distracted and engaged in less blood thirsty pursuits then who were they to judge? It had been a peaceful month because of you and Geta could tell everyone, from the servants to counsel men to himself, was grateful for it.

Grateful and bitter, he thought to himself. It was not so long ago that he thought he was the fortunate one. Caracalla had always been resentful that he had been betrothed to a woman when Geta was free to choose for himself. Geta had privately agreed and had thought that he might never marry. It was perhaps the one duty that his brother had taken on so he would not have to.

His sister-in-law laughed loudly, leaning into Caracalla to whisper some secret thing to him. Geta's ears burned and he found himself leaning further toward them, as though he might hear what you had to say.

Caracalla responded with a raspy giggle, hands busying themselves on your thighs. There was nothing sexual about it, really. Just close intimacy, unlike anything either of them had shared with anyone before. Geta squeezed his hands tight, imagining what it would feel like to trace those very same patterns as Caracalla.

He could take it no more. "Senator, please, you must enjoy yourself," he tried to grin, "Rome has earned herself a break, has she not? Please, taste the wine, the food. Perhaps the women?"

The senator gave a full laugh. "Perhaps, Emperor Geta, perhaps."

Geta got to his feet immediately. The senator had hardly had the chance to turn around before Geta was across the room and standing before his brother and you.

"Geta," you said, surprised, "we were just thinking of rescuing you."

Caracalla gave him a look that said he was very much not planning to do that. "My wife is very thoughtful, is she not?"

"She is," Geta responded, hoping for nonchalance. "She is also the Empress of Rome. Do you think it is wise to be groping her like that so publicly? She is not one of your whores."

"Oh, I do not mind," you dismissed his concern, "they all know who I am. And it soothes my Emperor to have me so close."

"It does," Caracalla confirmed. "I cannot say you bring me the same joy, brother. I'm sure there are many others who would love to entertain you."

Geta's jaw worked as he considered this. There was no playfulness in his brother's eyes, he was serious. It was off putting to see him so lucid. How was this fair? Geta was the one who worked hardest to rule over Rome and her subjects. He was the Emperor people came to with their questions and simpering proposals. So why had his brother been blessed with a woman such as you?

He knew he should be more grateful. Caracalla had not had a serious episode since the night he met you. When he did have one it was quickly ended by you. In general he had become much more reasonable and everyone was all the happier for it.

Caracalla seemed especially aware of the blessing the Gods had granted him. He did not find Geta's interest in his wife amusing.

Caracalla did not even know the half of it. Geta had been yearning for you since the night you met. You had caught them both at a vulnerable moment and had comforted them when no one else had or could. How could he not want to be around you? He saw the contentedness you brought his brother and could not help but want that for himself.

Sometimes, at night, when he knew the pair of you were enjoying yourselves together, his thoughts turned a dark path. Caracalla had only been married to you for a month - it was not too late to annul the marriage and take you for himself. Darker still, he thought about sending Caracalla far, far away and telling you that he had died. You would turn to Geta for comfort and -

"Geta," you interrupted his thoughts, "are you well? You seem distracted."

"You are most kind, my sister-in-law," he smiled wearily, "I am. . .tired. I will retire early."

You opened your mouth as if to say something more but Caracalla leaned close, nuzzling your neck and tickling a giggle from you. It was shameful how hard the sound made Geta's cock and he almost grabbed it, right there in front of everyone.

Caracalla stared at him from your neck, blue eyes watchful and knowing. Although he was angry at Geta's wanting, part of him was also satisfied to have something that was finally his and his alone. Even better than it was you.

"We shall retire too," Caracalla said, hands coming up to cup your waist and graze the bottom of your breasts. He was making it no secret exactly what the pair of you would be getting up to and white hot jealousy almost skewered Geta to the spot. He wanted to tear you from his brother's arms but he was well aware had no right.

It was a terrible though, but sometimes Geta wished his brother was sicker again. Maybe then you would have come to him more often, or he would have been able to steal you away without his brother's unusually watchful eye. Something about you made him better, though, more alert. Geta did not want to think of what Caracalla might do if you were taken from him.

Geta stared longingly at the side of your face. You did not look back. Of course you did not. You had no interest in a man who was not your husband, who was not Caracalla. You were a good woman and would never think twice about another man. Geta admired this quality whilst equally resenting it.

He bid you both tonight and turned on his heel, dodging various people on the way out. He selected a concubine, a girl who, if he squinted, almost looked like you and retreated to his chambers.

He fucked her with her face turned into his bedding, imagining it was his brother's wife wrapped around his cock instead. Geta imagined what it would be like if he had been the one to marry you. If he was the one to occupy all your thoughts and attention.

It could be different with you, he thought. Maybe he would be gentle for once. You likely would be. Then again he had seen you flirting with Caracalla and you were not shy. Geta would have to take his time, savour the skin on skin contact with you, savour your noises and looks. It would be unlike how it was with his concubines because it would be you and he had never wanted anything quite so badly. It was to these thoughts that he came.

Still, these fantasies were not enough. He had to know.

Author’s Note - he’s too horny. I think this needs a part two, what do you think?

dividers by @enchanthing

[mrscarpenter]

BED CHEM

Jacaerys Velaryon x Dornish!reader

Summary: The Prince gets send to gain a powerful alliance that the house targaryen has wanted for a long period of time, and he stumbles upon you. A gorgeous dornish queen.

Includes/warnings: dornish!reader this is probably horribly written so thats a warning in itself, not proof read but i believe Y/N has been used on multiple occasions. Did not give reader a description other than female & dark black curls. There is an age gap in this (reader is 16, jacaerys is 19, but it is never actually mentioned) like i said, not proof read, if you see any spelling errors feel free to point them out!

🪐notes: idk much abt the dornish, especially not in this timeline/au so please ignore any mistakes. Jace is not engaged to baela in this. :)

from my short & sweet collection

You were standing in the hall of your castle in SunSpear. Waiting for the arrival of the prince Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the iron throne and prince of DragonStone. Or he would be, had King Aegon Targaryen not usurped the iron throne.

The weather in Dorne was always exceptionally hot, so you wore a sheer gown. One thing about the Dornish was that you were not ashamed of anything, especially not what the gods had given you. The dress was a dark blue, with red and gold detailing, your long black curls hanging loosely over your shoulders.

Once you saw the prince arrive, you stood up straighter, clearing your throat silently, allowing a faked smug expression to fall upon your face.

“Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, to what is the pleasure of your presence owed?”

It was all a different environment to what he was used to at DragonStone. The strong breeze of hot air, the lack of thick winter-like clothing, the more exposed body, the tanned skin... it was all such a strange sight to a prince accustomed to the cold. He bowed gently towards the young Queen of Dorne, and looked at her dress. He admired the work that her seamstresses had to do to look so good on her.

“A pleasure indeed, my lady. May we chat inside? It is quite hot here, I confess.”

you nod curtly. “Of course. i am afraid i am in a bit of a hurry though, many important matters to attend.” You point out a hand, allowing him to walk beside you as you walk up the steps into the castle.

Jacaerys follows you, watching the way you walk and the environment surrounding the palace. The hot air, the sun, the tanned skin.

He looks over at you, trying to figure out more about the queen of Dorne. “You are quite young, my lady. Not that I'm much older, but tell me what's it like being queen so young?”

“I am quite used to it. I have been Dorne’s ruler since i was 6 summers old. The Dornish are respectable people, and very direct. It hasn’t always been easy, but it felt natural.” You spoke.

Jacaerys nodded as you walked, thinking it was somewhat impressive someone that young could ever rule. He smiled slightly at your comment.

“I can see the directness in you already, if you'll forgive my boldness. You don't seem like you're the type of woman to beat around the bush, are you?”

Jacaerys was trying to figure you out, as any man with an interest in women would do. He walked beside you as you both spoke, trying to gauge his chances.

after a few seconds you speak up “No, i indeed am not. And i do not expect anyone else to either, if i step on anyone’s toes with my words, they are not company i should keep.”

That comment made Jacaerys smile, appreciating your honest nature. He couldn't deny how attractive blunt honesty was, especially in a place where everyone was so used to keeping secrets and making alliances all the time. “So you speak plainly?”

He knew women with bluntness often became some of the most interesting ones. And a queen, with an attitude like that, made a very intriguing proposition. As curious as your boldness made him, he couldn't deny his physical interests.

That dress... Gods...

You bring him out of his thoughts with your reply. “Yes i speak plainly, and so should you, Prince Jacaerys.” You spoke softly, almost gentle-like. It was very refreshing.

Jacaerys took a long look at your body, his eyes slowly glancing at the details of your dress. The way the skirt of the dress swayed with your movements and how the gown itself left little to the imagination. The way your curly locks dangled and moved. The way your skin shone with the sun's blessing...

His gaze finally returned to your face, the soft features combined with the dark eyes and long wavy hair. He couldn't deny what was crossing his mind right now. Your blunt nature, combined with the way you looked, was certainly making him wish for things.

He couldn't help himself, as he took another look at you, before finally speaking. “That must come in handy for a queen like you, my lady. You're much less... complicated than one would expect from a ruler.”

Jacaerys approached one step closer, his eyes still locked on yours.

“If I may ask, are you married or betrothed by any chance?”

Your blunt words, your direct manner, and your pretty face only encouraged his desires. And it seemed the prince was rather blunt with his intentions as well.

Your eyes locked with his, as he asked the question you were certain was coming.

Of course, he must be interested in some deal. Just like any man, the prince wouldn't be able to simply let a beautiful young queen pass by.

You took a moment to think, wondering what to share.. or perhaps hide. "No, my prince. I am unmarried."

The corner of Jacaerys' mouth curled into a small, cocky smile. "Oh, is that so?"

A hint of teasing was clear in his voice, his eyes still looking for something in yours.

"Well, I suppose that does have some upsides."

He took another step closer, until he was at an arm's distance. The young prince could smell the scent of the air in Dorne, the sun-kissed skin, and the expensive perfumes of a queen. "Tell me, how might a man catch the interest of the queen of Dorne?"

The prince's voice had the tone of teasing, making your eyebrow raise slightly. His sudden proximity also caught you slightly off guard, his physical interests becoming very clear to you.

You couldn't deny how handsome he was. And you guessed perhaps you could use a bit of fun, considering you were unmarried and in your youthful prime.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him, his eyes burning a hole through your face. "Hm... What are you offering? Your family is at war, are they not? your visit is political.”

The prince let out a quiet chuckle, letting his eyes wander over your body for a moment.

The dress was certainly eye-catching, the way it hugged your curves, allowing his imagination to let loose...

The words you spoke only made his eyes find their way back to your own, and the smirk he had on his face only grew.

"Is the possibility of a political alliance enough to catch your interest, my lady?"

You watched the prince's eyes as they caressed your body, the boldness in his gaze, and the clear interest that you knew was there. You knew how to take advantage of an opportunity..

"Depends on what kind of a deal you're suggesting, my prince." There was an undeniable flirtation in your voice, your own subtle way of teasing him.

The prince didn't hide the smirk that spread across his face after that statement. His hand slowly reached over to your waist, his touch feeling the silky fabric of your dress.

"Would a marriage perhaps suffice?"

Your dress, as thin as it already was, provided no barrier against his touch. You could feel each stroke of his fingers, his thumb moving in circular motions against the thin fabric.

The marriage proposal was expected, but it seemed the prince had a more hands-on approach in mind.

You kept a straight face, not to give away how your mind was beginning to wander with the possibility of a marriage. "What would I gain? And what would you expect in return?"

He didn't let your serious expression stop his hands from wandering over the silk of your gown, his hand moving across your waist and down your side. "You would gain protection, support, and a powerful alliance."

"And I would gain..." He leaned closer, his breath against your skin, "A gorgeous Dornish queen as a wife..."

Your heart began to race as his words and his hand continued it's exploration of your side, the anticipation of where those hands might end up was growing.

The prince's proximity and the way he slowly looked at you, expecting some kind of reaction. You stayed firm, holding back the subtle reaction you felt with his words.

"Hm... We might have a deal, my prince."

And with that, his lips ended on yours.

Requested by: @avatar4life

explore post. masterlist.

please comment and reblog if you enjoyed. <3

© mrscarpenter, 2024.

[martiniluvr]

18+ minors dni

heyyy…how y’all doin…

back after an unexpected (long) hiatus lol hope y’all missed me…anywayz we hit 3k while I was gone so! celebratory brucie post bcus I love u all and it’s my thank u for sticking around 💞

warnings: nsfw alphabet for bruce wayne, so there’s a variety of things under the cut. please proceed with caution 🩷

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

A | Aftercare (what he’s like after sex)

I’ll die on the hill that bruce wayne is a gentleman first and foremost. he’s offering you a hot shower, a cold drink, and one of his fresh-pressed shirts to protect your modesty. and don’t worry—he’s gone in the morning (billionaire business calls), but he’s leaving you a full breakfast spread to wake up to (thanks, alfred).

B | Body part (his favorite body part of his and also his partner’s)

let’s be honest here. bruce knows he looks good. clear blue eyes, jet black hair, chiseled jaw, and a sculpted body…there’s not much about him physically that he can fault, even though he would never say that out loud. and of course, he loves everything about you; that being said, there’s something about a rounded, feminine figure that drives bruce wayne wild. hips, thighs, an ample bust—he loves himself a whole lot of woman.

C | Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I’ll just say it: mr. wayne is giving you thick, heavy loads every time. he’s saving them for you (see J), and he’s not interested in finishing anywhere except inside you (mouth included here). maybe it’s an intimacy thing, maybe it’s a hint of a breeding kink, or maybe it’s just possessiveness; either way, it’s all for you.

D | Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of his)

billionaire vigilante bruce wayne, who could snap a grown man in half and towers over you even when you’re in six-inch heels, would secretly love to be made to pleasure you for nothing in return. having you sit on his face, using him to get off over and over again, but never once offering him release as his cock twitches against his abdomen; the thought has gotten him through many a tedious charity gala.

E | Experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he’s doing?)

how do I put this delicately? bruce is…well, kind of a whore. after all, you don’t earn billionaire playboy status for no reason. his sexual body count more than makes up for the bodies he hasn’t accumulated thanks to his no-kill rule, so he’s working with a wealth of experience here—and, yes, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

F | Favorite position (this goes without saying)

bruce loves to see you on top, where he can take in the view of your body, your face, and your cunt in one fell swoop; plus, when you start to falter as you orgasm creeps up on you, he can pull you into a bear hug against his chest and pick up the pace as you whine into his neck.

G | Goofy (is he more serious in the moment? is he humorous? etc.)

it should come as no surprise that bruce isn’t the king of levity in bed. sex for a man like him represents one of two things: purely stress relief, or deep and intimate emotional connection. either way, it’s not a laughing matter; he’s taking it—and your pleasure—seriously. and if you know about the batman mantle? you’re in soul-bonding territory with him.

H | Hair (how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

bruce keeps himself very well-manicured, but you’ll find that manscaping isn’t his main priority between his philanthropy and vigilantism. still, he’s keeping things neat and practical, with a healthy sprinkling of happy trail—a balance between bruce’s polished good looks and the bat’s ruggedness.

I | Intimacy (how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect)

there are two schools of thought here: hookup bruce and relationship bruce. the former is…rather impersonal. now, the latter—the intensity with that bruce wayne is off the charts. he’s romantic in the vampiric soul-bonding sense only found in gothic literature. penetrating gaze, minimal conversation, and unwavering skin-to-skin contact the whole time, like you’ll vanish into thin air if he lets go of you for even a second.

J | Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

perhaps controversial but I don’t think bruce wastes his time with masturbation. all his discipline, training, and mental fortitude puts him above something as instinctive and banal as instant sexual gratification. he’d much rather save his energy for a fulfilling, drawn-out sexual release—and part of that is doing it with you.

K | Kink (one or more of their kinks)

this one is simple. bruce has a size kink. yes, he’s huge, he’s strong, he’s rich—but seeing how he eclipses you when he stands behind you sparks a fire in his lower abdomen unlike much else. the way his massive hands dwarf yours, or how your delicate fingers clutch at his muscular thighs as you take his length in your mouth…it strokes his ego, what can he say?

L | Location (favorite places to do the do)

though his custom-made king sized bed is more than appropriate real estate, bruce can’t get enough of fucking you in the shower. it’s sensual, erotic, and deeply intimate. plus, it gives him an easy excuse to manhandle you however he pleases—“you’re gonna slip, darling. put your legs around me.”

M | Motivation (what turns him on, gets him going)

everything about you can get bruce hard with little to no effort, but he really enjoys seeing you in your form-fitting pencil skirts and high heels for work. maybe it’s how serious and commanding they make you look, or maybe it’s that he knows he gets to peel that little outfit off your body in his office when you visit him on his late nights. whatever the case, he loves catching you on your way to work.

N | No (something he wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he’ll always aim to please, but bruce would be reluctant to inflict pain on you beyond a few pointed spanks. like, he genuinely could not bring himself to harm you in any material way. with his size, skill set, values, and experiences, he would never risk doing anything that might actually hurt or otherwise scare you. now, if you want to rough him up a little…that’s another story.

O | Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

bruce loves to pleasure you and he does it well; he’d never forgo the opportunity to have you gasping and begging for release while his face is buried between your legs. that said, there are few things in the world he thinks about more than your pretty eyes looking up at him as you slide his cock between your lips. between the pleasure and the view, receiving head is the closest someone like him is getting to heaven.

P | Pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

bruce wants you to feel every inch of him, so he’s starting off slow—agonisingly so—and building his pace gradually. he’s also not one to rush, meaning he’ll rarely get rough and sloppy. despite appearances, he can be incredibly tender, and he wants to take his time. when he’s about to cum, though, you’ll notice his thrusts getting a little ragged, and his grip a little harsher.

Q | Quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

this may be an unpopular opinion, but bruce is seldom going to prefer a quickie over drawn-out, sensual sex. and it’s not because he doesn’t enjoy them; frankly, they just don’t give him the opportunity to appreciate your body the way he’d prefer to. now, if you insisted, he’d be happy to oblige, but you’d almost certainly have to pick things up again later with more time for him to truly feel satisfied.

R | Risk (is he game to experiment? does he take risks? etc.)

I think it’s not far-fetched to assume bruce’s appetite for risk is healthy. you know, on account of the vigilante thing. and the billionaire thing. he’ll try almost anything you ask him to, and I can see a young bruce being very much the experimentalist, though age teaches him restraint. still, fucking you in his office is one of his biggest fantasies, despite how, well, risky it is.

S | Stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

the limit does not exist. and I really mean that. bruce wayne can last for a long time, and he can go multiple rounds—it’s that goddamn training of the mind and body. the two of you can easily go into the early hours of the morning, even with generous breaks in between; he’s got a lot of pent up desire to be released.

T | Toys (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or himself?)

I don’t see him owning toys for himself, but bruce is more than open to buying and using them on you. you’ll never forget your first orgasm from a hitachi wand while he was buried balls-deep in you—all because you mentioned you’d never used one before and were curious to try it. he won’t forget it either; watching you get yourself off like that is an image that stirred…something in him (see D).

U | Unfair (how much he likes to tease)

he’s not going out of his way to drive you crazy—not that it would be hard—because bruce is basically incapable of denying you anything. whatever you want is yours: a handbag, a new dress, a car, an orgasm, literally anything he can give you. now, he does enjoy it when you tease him. a man like him is used to getting whatever he wants, so having a beautiful woman cause him strife…well, it turns him on.

V | Volume (how loud he is, what sounds he makes, etc.)

unsurprisingly, bruce isn’t all that vocal; it’s all gritted teeth and laboured breaths as he tries to maintain composure—after all, he’s supposedly mastered discipline—but despite his best efforts, the feeling of your soft body on his is enough to draw out the odd low, rumbling moan, especially when he’s close to climax.

W | Wild card (a random headcanon)

he couldn’t degrade you even if he tried. bruce wayne only knows how to praise you; “darling”, “princess”, “sweetheart”. when he can tear himself away from the sight of you squirming at his touch, he tells you how beautiful you are, and how incredible you feel. he’s a #tenderlover and I stand by that.

X | X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

bruce is slightly over the 6 inch mark, but girth is where he really shines. every thrust fills you just enough to make your toes curl, and the gentle upward curve of his cock grazes your g-spot each time you rock your hips forward. the tip—a pale pink that matches his lips—is particularly sensitive to your touch.

Y | Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

incredibly high. bruce wayne could fuck you at any given moment if you only asked. but, he won’t act on his desire arbitrarily. he’s all about self-control and mind over matter; part of his training inherently taught him to contain his base instincts, which includes his sex drive. but let the record show—he will acquiesce if you even slightly suggest you’d like your insides rearranged.

Z | Zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterwards)

he barely sleeps on a normal day, so bruce is certainly not rolling over and going to bed after ravaging your body. he’ll have a shower—ideally with you—and wait for you to fall asleep by his side before he even considers getting some rest himself. he does sleep eventually, though, and he finds his most restful nights are spent with you draped over his body, breathing softly against his chest.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Maybe I Do

Buck x Eddie x fem!firefighter!reader

summary: you and Eddie are in a secret relationship and Buck wants to be apart of it, only for you to reject him. But when a new member joins the 118 and starts flirting with Buck, you and Eddie realize that you actually do like him.

word count: 4k

cw: make out session, reader has a panic attack, hurt/comfort

based on a comment on this post by @unknown-2505

"We should probably stop," you told Eddie as you went in for another kiss. "We're going to be late."

"Tell them that we were stuck in traffic." He licked into your mouth and you let out a moan at the feeling of his tongue scratching against yours. You were straddling his waist as the two of you sat in the passenger seat of your car, trying to get in a quickie before you had to go into work.

"Eddie," you laughed. "C'mon." But he just pulled you in for another kiss, trying to get to any place he could reach as you grabbed your shirt from the driver’s seat. You put it on and Eddie helped you button it, whining about needing one more kiss. He was always like that, never able to get enough of your lips. Especially since he was about to go into a long shift with a single one.

You had mutually decided to keep it a secret since you didn’t want everyone meddling into your love life. And it was kind of fun sneaking around. It was hot sneaking off to the bathroom to have a quickie, your hearts pounding as you tried to keep quiet so no one would hear you. And as far as you were concerned, no one knew.

You opened the door and Eddie helped you out before you grabbed your duffel and hurried into the station. Eddie counted to sixty then copied you, hurrying into the station a minute after you so nobody would have been suspicious about the two of you coming in together.

You both put your stuff away in your locker, Buck not far behind. He stood next to you as he put his things away, nudging your shoulder as he did so. It was something that he did every morning without fail. It was his very subtle way of telling you that he was interested in you. So subtle that you hadn’t even realized that was what he was hinting at.

He had liked Eddie for a long time, but when you came along, he knew he was fucked. You were just so pretty and nice, and seeing the two of you together was a lethal combo. You were both so hot that it was causing his bi panic to skyrocket. And he slowly started to realize that he was in love with the both of you. Head over heel, completely and totally in love. So much so that it was making him feel sick.

And it wasn’t like he could tell either of you. You would have been supportive, of course, that was just how the two of you were, but he was beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t the right idea to tell you. As far as he was concerned, he was taking that shit to the grave. It was far too embarrassing to admit it. How could he go about telling his two best friends that he was in love with them?

“Buck?” You asked, nudging his shoulder. “You still with us?” He finally came back to the real world to see your beautiful eyes looking at him. You almost seemed concerned and he didn’t like that. He appreciated that you worried about him (maybe a bit too much) but he didn’t need you to. He didn’t need you wasting that kind of energy on him. He didn’t think he deserved it.

“Huh?” He asked, completely unaware that you had even been speaking to him. He was too far into his own little world.

“We were wondering if you were still going out with us tonight,” Eddie said and Buck had to try his hardest not to stare at Eddie’s flexed arm as he put his bag into his locker.

“Yeah, of course,” Buck nodded as he forced himself to turn away. “I’m always in.”

“Good because it’s my treat because,” you paused for dramatic effect and held up your keys, showing him the newest addition.

“You got it?” He asked excitedly, reaching out for the key.

“I did,” you smiled proudly. “Got the keys yesterday. Can you believe it, Buck? A place that’s all mine.” Well, a place that was yours and Eddie’s and Christopher’s, but Buck didn’t need to know that.

You both felt horrible for hiding it from him, but you felt like it was for the best. Yes, you were pretty serious considering that him and his son had moved in with you, but you still didn’t feel like it was the right time to lay everything on the table.

You knew everyone would be supportive, especially Buck, but it just felt much better to keep it to yourself for the time being. You felt like telling everyone the truth would only make things weird with you and Eddie you had been hiding for about six months and it just would have been odd to spill everything now. Plus, you thought the whole secrecy thing was hot.

“I’ll have to see it sometime,” he said, leaning in a bit too close to you, but he couldn’t help it. You just smelled so good.

“I guess you will,” you smiled back only to see Eddie making a motion to stop you from speaking. “I-I mean, maybe,” you shrugged.

“What?” Buck was very confused by your response, turning around to see what you were looking at and Eddie turned his back to head out of the locker room.

“Nothing,” you smiled brightly.

“You’re acting weird.”

“Maybe you’re the one who’s acting weird,” you countered, crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive manner. Buck stepped closer to you, resting a hand on your arm. He was getting concerned, wondering if there was something that you were too afraid to tell him. But you could tell him, he wouldn’t judge you, in fact, he would have helped you through whatever it was.

“What’s really going on?” He asked, his blue eyes boring into yours. You felt horrible lying to him, but you were just doing what you thought was right.

“Nothing, seriously, Buck. I appreciate you worrying about me, but you don’t need to.” You removed his hand from your shoulder and took it in both of yours. “I swear.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “But you know you can come to me with anything, right?”

“I know that,” you nodded.

“Good.” With that, you both fled the locker room and all headed up the stairs where the rest of the 118 was resting, waiting around for a call. You sat on the sofa next to Eddie, making sure to keep space between your bodies so as to not look suspicious.

He was watching the TV across from the couch intently. So much so that you were convinced that he hadn’t even seen you. But not long after you sat down, he slowly inched his hand towards yours. You looked over your shoulder to see everyone in the kitchen getting coffee, so you took Eddie’s hand, intertwining your fingers, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

You ran your thumb over them as the two of you watched the TV, a silly comedy playing on the TV. But you weren’t really watching. All you could think about was what Buck had said about you acting weird. Did he know what was going on with you and Eddie? He had to if he was calling your behavior, right? And he was also suspicious of Eddie now that he thought about it.

Now that someone knew, you were concerned that you were going to have to call the whole thing off. You really loved Eddie and didn’t want to give up on him. You couldn’t. Especially since you had just moved in together. Especially since you had just gotten Christopher used to moving to a new place and he actually seemed to be happy with it.

Your life had changed for the better since they had entered it and you weren’t going to give it up. You couldn’t. This was only the beginning. And you weren’t going to let Buck’s knowledge of your relationship ruin it.

“So, what are you two up to?” Hen asked as she leaned over the back of the sofa. Both you and Eddie let go of each other’s hand when you noticed her presence and if he saw it, she didn’t say anything.

“Watching TV, obviously,” Eddie laughed nervously. Hen rounded the sofa and sat on the cushion between the two of you. Hen had been suspicious of the two of you for months and seeing you hold hands like that confirmed them. The way the two of you behaved around each other was much more than friendly even if the others couldn’t see through it like she could.

She was supportive, though. She had seen the attraction since you first showed up and she was nothing but happy for the two of you. She was just hoping that Buck was going to be okay, though. He had confided in her about his crush on the both of you and was concerned how that was all going to do go down. Buck was like a little brother to her and she wanted to protect him at all costs.

Because of her suspicion, Hen told him to hold off on telling the two of you how he felt. She could see how much he was aching because of how strong his feelings were, but there was no way she was going to tell him that the two of you were together. It wasn’t any of her business and she didn’t want to make anything weird between the three of you. You were so close and she wasn’t going to take the blame for breaking the three of you up.

“Listen,” she said, motioning for you both to lean forward. You listened and leaned closer, Hen’s voice lowering to a whisper. “I know about the two of you.” Both of you widened your eyes and turned to each other. You swore you weren’t that obvious, but supposed that if anyone could have figured it out, it would have been Hen.

“But-” you tried to speak, but Bobby’s voice cut you off.

“Alright, everyone, listen up,” he called out and you all turned into him, your eyes immediately catching onto the man and woman who were standing on either side of him. “This is Hazel,” he rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “And Benjamin,” his other hand landed on the man’s shoulder. “They’re the newest members of the 118 so treat them like one of us, alright?”

Just as the words left his mouth, the siren went off and you all were flying down the stairs to head to the engine. Everyone was able to fit except Chimney and Hen who were taking the ambulance. You were in between Eddie and Buck, both of the new members of the crew sitting across from you along with Ravi.

You could hear Buck and Eddie making conversation with them, but you weren’t paying attention, their words sounding all muffled as you got too into your head. You didn’t think you and Eddie had been obvious, but considering Hen had figured you out, you were convinced that everyone else knew as well. And now you were afraid Bobby was going to transfer you because the two of you were dating because you knew that it was against the rules for the two of you to be romantically linked.

After the call, the engine pulled back up to the fire house and once you got out, you headed to the women’s bathroom, beckoning for Eddie to follow, counting to a minute before he met you there. You locked the both of you in the handicapped stall and Eddie was quick to rest his hands on your waist, leaning in for a kiss, but you out your hand on his chest to stop him.

“We’re not here to make out, Eddie.”

“Then what are we here for?”

“We need to talk.” He didn’t like the sound of that. Oh god, you were going to break up with him. That was usually what those words meant. At least, whenever he had heard them, that was what they had meant.

You couldn’t break up with him. You had such a good thing going. You were the best thing that had ever happened to him and he couldn’t let you slip through his fingers because of something stupid that he had done. At least, he assumed it was his fault. All of his breakups were.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” you told him and he let out a deep breath.

“Thank god. Then what is this about?”

“I think we need to tell everyone about us.”

“Why?”

“Hen knows so it’s only a matter of time before everyone else does too.” Eddie supposed you were right. He didn’t think that Hen would tell anyone, but he thought it was best that you both just came clean.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do. You know that.” His hand reached up and pushed your hair behind your ears before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Let’s tell them tomorrow morning,” you said. “It’s been a long day.”

“I agree,” he nodded. “So now that that’s settled…”

“I guess I can agree to that,” you rolled your eyes. Eddie smiled down at you, backing you up against the wall before pressing his lips to yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck while his went to your waist, picking you up from the floor and your legs wrapped around his middle as he pinned you to the wall as he licked into your mouth.

He unbuttoned the first few buttons of your shirt and pushed it down your shoulders before going straight for your neck, licking and sucking on the spot, eliciting a moan from your lips. This was by far his favorite thing to do to you whenever you were together like this. He loved the noises you made and the way he was able to make you come undone just by sucking on your skin. And when he was done, you were able to cover it up with the collar of your shirt. It was something just for the two of you. Your own little secret.

“So good, Eddie,” you moaned and that only encouraged him, intending on making you orgasm just from giving you a hickey. “We-we have to go back soon or they’ll get suspicious,” you told him through your labored breaths. There was a truth to your words, but you both were just too caught up in how good you felt to stop.

He continued to lick and suck, wanting the mark he was creating to be dark. So much so that there was no way for you to hide it with makeup. He wanted to stand behind you in the mirror in your shared bathroom while both of you admired the pretty bruise.

“Hold on, honey,” he murmured against your lips. “I’m doing my best work.” His teeth grazed your skin and you swore you were going to melt. If he hadn’t have been holding you, you were sure that your legs would have given out.

“Sh-shit, Ed. Do that again.” Your words were already slurring and he was positive that was a record of how quick he was to make you come undone. He did as you asked and grazed the spot with his teeth, harder this time. Your hands moved to his hair and you gave it a yank in response to the pleasure coursing through you.

He bit down on the mark that was forming, but not enough to break the skin, and you moaned, even louder this time. Surely someone would have heard you from outside the bathroom, but you didn’t care. You were just so focused on Eddie and his mouth.

You collapsed against him and he licked a stripe across the forming bruise to diffuse the sting before pulling away from you completely. He smiled down at the pretty mark he had made, the thing shining with his spit then set you down on the floor. He then began to button up your shirt, taking his time to make sure that all of the buttons were lined up properly. You had almost gotten caught week before because of that very thing and neither of you were going to repeat your errors.

-

The bar was pretty empty when you, Eddie and Buck arrived. The three of you hurried inside and ordered a round of shots to celebrate another job well done. The day had been pretty busy and now you were all ready to unwind. Well, you and Eddie were. Buck was just ready to tell you both the truth about the feelings he was harboring. He felt like he needed to get the words out no matter what Hen said. He knew that she was just looking out for him, but he had holding his feelings in for far too long.

He looked at the both of you and noticed the look you were sharing. It was almost…romantic. In that moment, he realized what was happening. The two of you were together. Now it all made sense. The sneaking off, the two of you coming back with your hair messed up and your shirts buttoned weirdly. Buck had been so preoccupied with his crush on both of you that he hadn’t been paying attention. Until now.

“Buck?” You asked, nudging him shoulder.

“Huh?” He was finally focusing in again. His mind in reality.

“Are you okay, man?” Eddie asked. “You’ve been spacey all day.”

“I guess I’ve just had a lot on my mind.” He headed towards an open table and sat down, both you and Eddie following him.

“What is it?” You asked as you sat across from him, setting your hand on top of his that was resting on the table. He immediately pulled it away and shook his head, nervously scratching at the back of his neck.

“Look,” he let out a sigh, closing his eyes. “What I’m going to say is going to sound crazy.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Eddie replied as he sipped on the beer he had ordered. He was convinced that he would be supportive of whatever Buck was going to tell him.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You can tell us.”

“Fine. But remembered that you asked for it.” He ran his hands down his face and downed the shot that he had been too stunned to drink, hoping that would help with his nerves. “I’m in love with you,” he said. “Both of you.” Both of your eyes widened and you turned to each other in shock.

Out of all all the things Buck could have said, you definitely weren’t expecting that. You kind of assumed he had feelings for Eddie, but you? You didn’t even think that you were his type. But now you guessed you were. You were surprised to say the least. You and Eddie had been together for months and nobody new, but now you were going to have to confess two things. One, that you were together, and two, that you didn’t feel the same way. At least, you didn’t. You didn’t feel like it was right to speak for Eddie.

“Buck,” Eddie replied in surprise. Unfortunately, Eddie hadn’t felt the same way either. Maybe he did once upon a time, but as soon as he met you everything changed. And now he felt bad for not reciprocating his feelings. That was his best friend and he didn’t want to hurt him. He had already been through so much and now Eddie was about to absolutely crush him.

“Can you give us a minute to discuss?” You asked. “Order yourself a drink on us,” you handed him your card so he could start a tab and he took it, unsure of what was happening.

“S-sure,” he stuttered as he stood from the table. He knew it was a mistake. He should have just kept his big mouth shut. And now both of you were going to reject him and he was going to feel like shit. Well, he always did, but this was going to make the feeling so much worse.

“Eddie, what the fuck do we do?” You whispered, leaning towards him as you watched Buck order a beer, already looking so dejected. “God, I feel so bad.”

“So you don’t feel that way about him either?” He was hoping that that at least you did so Buck wouldn’t be completely rejected, but clearly that wasn’t happening.

“No and I feel horrible. What do we do?”

“We need to tread lightly,” Eddie replied. “He’s already so fragile.”

You waved Buck back over and he sat at the table, already knowing what was going to happen. You grabbed Eddie’s hand and you both looked at him with such pity. It was almost as if you were a married couple telling their child that you were divorcing. He felt so pathetic, resisting the urge to not hear your answer and leave, but unfortunately, he had ridden with you, so he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Well, we talked it over,” you turned to Eddie then turned back to Buck.

“You don’t like me,” Buck finished, lowering his head, no longer wanting to look either of you in the eye.

“We’re so sorry, Buck,” Eddie replied.

“Don’t worry about it,” he waved it off. “I’m just gonna head out if that’s okay.”

“Do you need a ride home?”

“Nah,” he stood up from the table, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for his phone. “Have a good night, guys.”

You collapsed into your chair, feeling defeated. You knew it wasn’t your fault that Buck’s feelings weren’t reciprocated, but you couldn’t feel like it was. You had gotten in between them, ruining anything that could have happened between them and now nothing would. At least, not according to Eddie with the engagement ring he had hidden in the drawer of his bedside table.

It was all so unfair. And now Eddie felt like the best friendship he ever had was ruined because feelings got in the way. And he wasn’t going to blame Buck. Not at all. It wasn’t his fault he had feelings for the both of you, and it certainly wasn’t his fault that neither of you felt the same way. God, it was all just so fucked.

-

You entered the firehouse the next morning only to see Buck flirting with the newbies right in front of the engine. And they were flirting right back. Hazel was giggling at whatever Buck had said and Benjamin was fiddling with Buck’s collar. You weren’t sure why, but the whole thing made him feel sick. You avoided them as you headed to your locker, Buck watching you the whole time.

He hadn’t meant to do use them, but they were right there. And they were interested. He wasn’t trying to make you and Eddie jealous or anything like that. He was just…lonely. He wasn’t going to do anything with them, just a little harmless flirting to mend his heart and then he’d be good.

Eddie entered the locker room to see that you hadn’t even put your stuff away. You were standing there, staring at Buck and the probies. He could see the anger in your eyes and if he wasn’t mistaken, he would have said you were jealous. But why would you have been? You had discussed the whole situation at length the night before that you weren’t going to pursue Buck and now there you were, looking like you were seeing red.

“Hon,” Eddie stepped over to you, grabbing onto your arm. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. You didn’t know why it upset you so much, but it did. You knew that you said you didn’t like him like that, but…maybe now you did. Maybe all you needed was a little jealousy to make you realize it.

“Have you changed your mind?” He asked, titling your head up so you’d look him in his pretty, brown eyes. Truthfully, Eddie had to. He had thought it over the whole night and was beginning to think that he was making a mistake. Especially seeing Buck with other people.

“I think so. But Eddie, I think he hates us.”

“I don’t hate you,” Buck replied and you both turned to him, eyes wide. You supposed that you and Eddie had been so caught up in your conversation that you hadn’t noticed Buck had been standing there. “I’m more than happy to do this if you are. We can just pretend like last night never even happened.”

You and Eddie turned to each other before nodding enthusiastically. The thought of adding another person to your relationship seemed strange, but since you were all game, it actually seemed kind of exciting.

“We’re in,” you both replied in unison.

“Good,” Buck nodded, striding over to the both of you, his voice now hushed. “I’ll see the both of you in the bathroom in five minutes,” he winked then fled the locker room, leaving the both of you buzzing with nothing but nerves and excitement. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

[beldamtarot]

-ˏˋ MASTERLIST ˊˎ-

Hello there! This is my first pick-a-pile reading here. I'm very sorry for not being able to post sooner, as I'm quite busy with life. But here you go! I'll do my very best to stay as active as possible here and do readings as much as I can.

Also, this reading is The Secret History-themed because I'm rereading the book for the 3rd time now! I really love it so so so much. I highly recommend that book btw! So before further ado, let's dive into your reading. X.

Love,

Beldam

DISCLAIMER: take what resonates, leave what doesn't. Not everything here will resonate nor will be accurate to your situation, as this is a collective reading, which means I'm connecting to a lot of energies. For more accurate and longer readings, you may book a reading with me. If you want to simply support me, you may tip me here.

If you struggle in choosing between these piles, you may choose more than one if you feel connected to them. For any other clarification, feel free to drop by or hit me up!

‎✧ ─── PILE ONE !

Your future spouse's first impression of you is that you embody both masculine and feminine energies, and you can switch it and turn either energies on and off whenever you want to, like a light switch. When it comes to your masculine energy, your future spouse thinks you're a passionate and adventurous person. I feel like your future spouse finds you hot in your masculine energy. You could be someone who likes to hit the gym and do weightlifting. You could be someone who has muscles. If you're a woman, you could have a big booty and you really have a lot of strength in your lower body, which your future spouse likes looking at. And if you're a man, you really have some muscles on your biceps and you have broad shoulders, which make your future spouse fold. As for your feminine energy, you're someone who's opinionated and doesn't hesitate to speak up. You're not scared of being "too harsh" for other people just because they can't handle the truth. You're someone who doesn't let anyone disrespect you in any way. You're willing to fight them if that means keeping your peace and this serves as a warning for them not to walk all over you again. Your future spouse likes that and admires you for that. I feel like your future spouse finds you extraordinary and different from everyone they have met in the past, and because of that, you pique their interest a lot. I also feel like that your future spouse thinks you tend to feel stuck and have a brain fog whenever you're stressed and overwhelmed. Because of this, they want to help you in any way they can and protect you. You also seem like someone who's willing to take the risk. It's like what they say, take the risk or lose the chance.

Signs: Aries, Libra, Aquarius, Leo, Gemini, Capricorn

Other signs: Business. Workaholic. Morning coffee. Spilling coffee when in a rush. Office as a workplace. White button-down blouse. Wavy hair. Blonde. Brunette. Long hair with highlights.

‎✧ ─── PILE TWO !

I feel like you'll meet your future spouse when everything in your life is falling apart so their first impression of you is that you're brave but miserable and you can't get your shit together. It's when you're so confused with what you're going to do with your life because nothing is going the way you want it to go. Your career is falling apart, you might be sick of your job and thinking of resigning but you can't find another job, or you just got fired, or you're really unemployed and need to get a job. During this time, you'll feel defeated. It feels like life will never be gentle to you, ever. You might be going to clubs or bar, drinking a lot, you might even be sleeping with a lot of people you just met that night and barely know. You have a messed up sleeping schedule, you're awake at night but asleep during the day. You don't eat healthy and you smoke a lot. There's a lot of confusion in this energy and I feel like you'll consider stealing money from people or selling drugs because you don't know how to help yourself financially. And this is where your future spouse comes along. I feel like your future spouse has been there and they also went through so much. They already know how to take a grip and take control of their life, and I feel like they will help you get through this. I'm seeing that when you meet, you might be drunk in the middle of the night and they will help you get sober so you can go home safely. I'm seeing a woman drunk and a man helping her, so most of you here could be women. Though they will take you home themselves and ensure that you're safe. But when you get home. Nothing will happen between you that night. Nothing sexual. They respect you a lot and will never take advantage of you. I feel like this is when you realize that they are the one for you, and they inspire you to change for the better. It feels as though this person leads you to the light at the end of the tunnel.

Signs: Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius, Pisces, Sagittarius

Other signs: Paris. Big cities. Bar. Clubbing. Alcohol and wine. One night stand. Junk food. Fries. Burger. Pizza. The movie The Menu. Anya Taylor Joy. Francis. French.

‎✧ ─── PILE THREE !

Your future spouse sees you as the one for them, the moment they see you. I feel like this is love at first sight, whether you like that concept or hate it. They think you're a happy and jolly person, it seems like, to them, you don't have any problems in life. And they know that of course, you have, because no one in this world has zero problems in life. But you make it look so easy, it's like you're not dealing with anything because you're a calm person and you have everything all-together in your life. It's like, even if you get upset over something, you know how to deal with it without crashing out. I also feel like you catch your future spouse's attention in the crowd. You both could be in a crowd of people, maybe at a business party of a friend's party. I see a woman holding a glass of champagne or any drink, talking to some people, and the man is walking towards her to approach her. So I feel like most of you in this pile are women too. I also feel like your future spouse might be someone who likes to make plans. They will let you be in your feminine energy while they handle everything. It's like, you don't have to worry about anything, I have it all under control. You or them or the both of you could be asking people about each other because you have a lot of connections with other people, so it's like you're both connected to each other all along, you just haven't met sooner yet. It's giving the invisible string theory where you're both in the same place at the same time, you just haven't met sooner because it wasn't the right time. You might even have pictures where the other is in the picture, you just didn't realize it before. And in the eyes of your future spouse, you're a confident person and really attractive physically. You have a specific charm where you can charm everyone in the room.

Signs: Libra, Taurus, Scorpio, Cancer, Virgo

Other signs: Blonde. Blue eyes. Barbie. Elegant & classy fashion style. Black hair. The movie How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Business party. The series Emily in Paris. Swan Lake.

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"On a snowy day." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

On a snowy day, Daryl's daughter tells him about an interesting conversation between you and Aunt Maggie, but Marley ends up spilling the beans to Carol too about her daddy's worst fear.

A/N: Just another sweet and funny imagine about Daryl and his daughter hehe another one to add to the list :) "My everything." "A whole new world." "For life." "Make you happy." Hope you like it♥

The whole street, the whole block, all of Alexandria is covered in snow, painting the world of the living white after being blood red for so many years. The green of the leaves has disappeared under the cold season, snowmen on every house as a reminder of the past. Snowflakes sway in a gentle dance in the evening breeze, under a sky that changes color with the passing of the hours.

On her way back home, holding her daddy’s hand, Marley’s little world seems infinite at 5 and a half years old. Her winter boots sink into the snow, lifting it slightly with each step she takes. Her brown hair is identical to her father’s, a little messy under her white wool hat.

“The shot still hurt, angel?” Daryl has to look down to meet his daughter’s gaze, blue eyes looking back at him, deeply. “Ya want daddy to carry ya the rest of the way?”

Marley nods, because the walk back from visiting her mom in the infirmary was too long for her little legs.

“Please, daddy.”

Daryl smiles as his ears fill with the tender, sweet voice of his daughter calling him daddy, a voice he learned to recognize ever since Marley said her first word. He has to bend down to pick her up, holding her against his chest as she hugs him close, his forearms beneath her, her small arms around his neck.

“Why are ya so cute, huh?” Daryl is still smiling as he sets off again for the walk home. “Ya do that on purpose, don’ ya? Is that yer master evil plan? To make daddy love ya so much he can’t breathe?”

Marley laughs, her gaze locked with her father's eyes, the corners of her lip curling into a smile as she continues to learn to understand the depth of her Daddy's love, but before she can respond, a neighbor's wave from her front porch forces them both to look to the right.

Daryl lets out a small hey back without stopping, followed by a nod before turning back to his daughter, but Marley’s eyes are still on the woman they leave behind.

“Sweetheart…” He uses his arms under her body to rock her once, softly, getting her to look back in his direction. “What’s wrong, angel?”

Marley holds a thoughtful expression, her brow furrowing slightly with the seriousness of her little thoughts at her short 5 years old. But Daryl can’t help but smile, because that expression is identical to yours when you both didn’t like something.

“Aunt Maggie told mommy that Mrs. Ellie likes to stare at you too much when you leave the house in your sleeveless shirt in the summer. She said the neighbor was a female version of a dog, but I don’t know what that means, daddy.”

Hearing her words, Daryl has to make an enormous effort not to laugh.

“Mommy said that? Or was it Aunt Maggie?”

“Aunt Maggie...” Marley tilts her head to the side, still thoughtful. “But Mommy said we needed to get you some baggy clothes, or burn that shirt, or maybe just get rid of the neighbor, but I don’t know what that means either.”

It’s hilarious for Daryl at the new information, though he does his best to remain cool, but there’s also something daring in your words, a compliment to his body even though he wore those clothes without a thought for others. Well, he knew he did it to get your attention, but not the rest of the world’s. Daryl also knew that kids didn’t know how to keep secrets, no matter if they knew or not that some things weren’t supposed to be said.

And he can’t help but smile.

“Oh yeah? An’ what else mommy said ‘bout daddy, Marley?”

Marley’s expression changes as in her mind, she starts putting the words mommy and daddy together.

“Mommy told Aunt Maggie that you are still very hot, like living forever on a summer day.” Daryl chuckles as does his daughter, having a blast with your unfiltered words, though he also knew that he had to teach his child later that listening to adult conversations was wrong. “Is that a good thing, daddy?”

“Well… that means mommy finds daddy attractive.”

Marley nods slightly.

“So you are handsome, because you are.” She smiles, because to her, Daddy is the most handsome man in the community. Daryl shakes his head, because his reserved personality still prevented him from seeing himself the way others did. “Mommy said she really likes your long hair.”

The corner of his lip curls into a smile, loving the way Marley’s small hands brush away the strands of hair that usually cover part of his eyes.

“Maybe Daddy should tell Mommy that he really likes her too.”

Marley lets out a sweet laugh, hugging his neck again.

“You stare at Mommy a lot, Daddy. Last week at Uncle Rick’s house, he told his wife that you couldn’t take your eyes off your wife.”

Even in the dead of winter, Daryl can feel the sudden warmth on his cheeks, spreading throughout his body as he climbs the steps of his front porch, walking over to the rocking chair in the corner to sit in it with Marley on his lap, her little legs swinging out on either side.

“Yeah, daddy likes to look at mommy a lot, angel, and s'cause mommy is a pretty thing to look at.”

Marley thinks for a few seconds, trying to understand such simple words that at the same time hide a deep meaning.

“The love you and mommy have for me, is it the same as yours for mommy?”

Daryl has to think about his answer for a few seconds, trying to explain with words that his daughter can understand, the love he had for her and for his wife.

“S'the same, but different. Mommy and daddy love ya so, so much, angel, 'cause ya came into our lives to make everythin' better. An’ daddy loves mommy with all his heart too, that’s why I asked mommy to be ma wife, so she’d be stuck with me for life.” Daryl tries not to laugh as he remembers that that was what he told you when you got married. “Mommy an’ daddy love each other a lot too, and ya were born from that love.”

Marley holds his gaze, her little mind trying to process his words.

“Aunt Maggie asked Mommy if you two were thinking about having another baby.” Marley tilts her head again, looking at her daddy with blue eyes that sparkle with curiosity. “Are we having another baby at home, Daddy?”

Daryl smiles as he uses one hand to tuck a strand of his daughter’s hair behind her ear, but for him, it’s a relief to see his baby willing to share her place as queen of the house.

“Dunno, angel. Daddy thinks it might be a good idea for ya to have a lil’ brother or sister at some point, but that’s Mommy’s decision. S'her body that has to carry the baby, and Daddy ain't pressurin' Mommy into doin' anythin’ she’s not comfortable with, okay?”

Marley nods.

“But maybe if we ask Santa for a baby, he can bring one and Mommy won’t have to carry my little brother or sister inside her.”

Daryl chuckles, but he too is at peace with the idea that his daughter’s innocence is still intact in that cruel world.

“That’s an excellent idea, angel.” His hand, warm despite the season, caresses his daughter’s soft cheek. “If s'okay with Mommy, I know ya’ll be a great big sister.”

Marley smiles at the touch of her daddy’s fingers against her skin, not even noticing that his hand is calloused, somewhat rough, because he always caressed her cheek softly, so gently that she never noticed Daryl’s insecurity the first time he thought he would hurt her skin.

“You, Daryl Dixon…” Marley giggles, because she never used her daddy’s real name, because to her, he had always been daddy. “You’re a good daddy. The best daddy in the whole world.”

Like the snow melting when the weather leaves winter behind, Daryl feels an overflowing love for his little daughter, his baby, his angel, feeling her love that managed to melt those fears he harbored inside him, the mistaken idea that he would never be the father Marley deserved.

“Can ya stay this lil’ forever, angel? Can ya promise daddy ya will never leave his side?”

Marley tries not to laugh, making an effort to keep a serious expression to match her promise.

“I’ll never leave your side, daddy. I promise.”

Daryl smiles, and when he does, his expression softens, always, and his blue eyes become warm as he takes in how identical his daughter is to him.

“What’s this beautiful couple doing here?” Carol’s sweet voice draws their attention, and Marley has to turn to look at her, smiling the instant she recognizes her. Daryl pulls her off his lap, and his daughter clings to Carol’s body the moment she reaches the porch. “Are you better now, honey? Your mommy said you were getting a little sick.”

Marley looks up, smiling instantly.

“Yes, Denisse gave me a shot. It hurt a little, but when she told daddy he should get one too to prove to me it didn’t hurt, he told her only his wife could touch his ass.”

Carol’s laughter drowns out Daryl’s embarrassment, embarrassment he tries to cover with a serious expression, but when she says goodbye minutes later and Marley climbs back onto her daddy’s lap, he has to keep the same expression so as not to give himself away.

“Marley, sweetheart, s'okay when ya tell daddy that mommy thinks he’s attractive, but ya don’ have to tell everyone that daddy’s scared of shots, okay?”

Marley, though confused by the contradictory idea that always telling the truth is okay, nods before leaning against Daryl’s chest, one side of her face feeling the softness of his long–sleeved black t–shirt that he always pulls up to his elbows. Daryl chuckles as he wraps his arms around her, like a refuge from the slight chill while they wait for mommy to come home. Then, he shakes his head in disbelief, his long hair moving with him, because Daryl knows that when the day is over, his family, the family he made at the end of the world, will know that the man who survived a couple of gunshots and several fights is scared of shots.

Oh, but what the hell, because after marrying the love of his life and having a little girl as a daughter, everyone already knew that, despite his rough exterior, Daryl is a big softie (in a good way) for his girls.

@fluffy-dixon

[thesecretestblogever]

A-Z Frat! Will

MDNI 18+ frat! Will below the cut :)

A - Aftercare

You’ve been dating since high school, so not only is aftercare a regular part of your routine, but also very important to you. It does depend on time and location though. If you’re alone for the night in his room, he’ll clean you up and you’ll cuddle naked, or take a shower together. If it’s somewhere less conventional like the closet, the golf course, or the bathroom, there’s not much you can do except deal with the sticky panties, but you’ll get a forehead kiss every time.

B - Body Part (Their/Yours)

Will is obsessed with your ass. He loves to grab it, smack it, dig his fingers into the ample flesh as his hips stutter into yours and he spills deep into you. It comes as no surprise later on when he asks to try anal and unsurprisingly loves it. 

C - Cum

Looooooovvessss to cum inside you or paint your face. There’s something about doing this that makes you really feel like his and his only. 

D - Dirty Secret

Will is not afraid to ask to try new things and you’re both always eager to find a new way to get each other off. There’s very few secrets between you. You’re a little curious about what a threesome would be like with another girl, but he’s always adamantly against it.

E - Experience

Frat! Will and Reader have been together since high school - your experience is completely and totally each other. You know the ins and outs of each other's bodies like they’re your own. The only other person who’s joined was once when you had a threesome with Eky. 

F - Favourite Position

He likes bending you over any surface - the counter of the kitchen or the bathroom, the bed, the golf cart. He can hold your hips and really pull you back onto him with each thrust. 

G - Goofy

Things are usually pretty serious when you’re having sex, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a good laugh if either of you stumble or do something awkward. 

H - Hair

He keeps it tame - light trims, but never a full shave. 

I - Intimacy

Will treasures you like you’re a bar of gold. Even if he’s getting lost in the feeling of you, he never forgets to kiss all over you, praise you with beautiful words and hold you close to his sweaty, naked body afterwards and let you know how good you did and how important you are to him. 

J - Jerk off

He’s a 20 year old frat boy, which means he’s jacking off anytime and anywhere he can. It doesn’t diminish his libido or thirst for you. He could have jacked off in the shower before you came over and he still wants to throw you down somewhere and fuck you brainless.

K - Kink

This boy loves exhibition and anal. Those are his two big ones. Those things set him on fire and the first time you tried anal, he came after a few pumps. He was extremely embarrassed, but you found it hot how much he loves your body and he made sure you were well taken care of after.

L - Location(Favourite places to do it)

You and Will have some sort of exhibitionist interest. The bed is a classic, but he’ll take you anywhere if it enters his mind, as long as there’s no actual threat of being caught. His parents’ hot tub was a game changer.

M - Motivation (What turns them on/gets them going)

Your connection is so deep, anything can set him off. Seeing you do the most mundane tasks make his mind wander. What you’re really good at though is testing him during parties. He’s not the most possessive or jealous guy, but you like to push his buttons. He knows you’re doing it every time too as you meet his gaze across the room as you lean in too close to another guy or touch his arm for too long. He knows what you’re doing, but it still works every time. 

N - No(Draw a line In the sand)

You tried a lot of things over the years, and found that you’re really not into hard BDSM. Will’s not opposed to some light spanking, slapping, or some choking, but he doesn’t like to cause too much pain. He’s much more into praising you and encouraging you when you’re fucking because it makes you melt into him. You also tried tying him up one time, and he hated how little control and participation he had. He likes both parties to be able to do what they want in a delicious push and pull. 

O - Oral

He’ll eat you out for as long as you’ll let him. One of his favorite places to be is between your legs. At this point, he has you memorized and knows exactly how to lick and suck on you to pull multiple orgasms from you in record time. You have to pull his hair and beg for him to let up when you’re twitching and whining with his mouth on you. He also loves blowjobs - ultimately, he'd rather be buried deep inside you, but seeing you on your knees, swallowing around him and looking up through your eyelashes causes a fire deep in his stomach. Sometimes, he has to deny you because he knows he’ll come too fast if you put your mouth on him. 

P - Pace

Will finds it hard to slow down when everything about you feels soooooo fucking good. He’s fast, hot, and hard and you have to remind him sometimes to warm you up. He always apologizes and tries to come back to himself and focus on you. 

Q - Quickie

Again, this boy will take you anywhere he can. You oscillate between long marathons of sweet love making or hard fucking, to a blowjob in the shower, or he distracts you while you’re making dinner and fucks you quick on the counter. Your jelly legs don’t make it easy to finish the meal afterwards.

R - Risk

Not afraid to push the boundaries. You got caught once in the closet at the practice rink, which meant he had a lot of privileges revoked for a few months. He likes to see just how far he can take it without getting caught. You were invited to a team dinner once, and his hand found its way into your panties under the table. It was hard to keep it together and eat your pasta. 

S- Stamina

Can go for hours and hours if you let him. There’s one night he’ll never let you live down when you came so many times you almost passed out, and he had to stop and grab you water and he held you, brushing the sweaty hair away from your face.

T - Toys

Will is extremely confident in his ability to make you come, but he’ll never say no to a little extra fun. You’re both adventurous and like to try everything, and that includes toys. When you discovered his love for anal, a plug became a normal part of your routine. 

U - Unfair(How much they like to tease)

RUDE. RUDE. RUDE. If he’s feeling evil, he’ll eat you out and work you up over and over again without letting you come. He likes when you beg for it, so he’ll suck on your clit until you’re right at the edge, grabbing at his hair before he stops completely. It’s almost painful as you cry out and your hips hump at nothing. When he finally lets you come, it’s blinding and he has to remind you to breathe. 

V- Volume (how loud they are or/what noise they make)

Will is loud and proud - he’s a talker and between moans and groans he makes sure to tell you how good your pussy feels.

“God, you’re so fucking soaked and still so tight,” he gasps. He feels consumed by you and cannot hold it in.

W - Wildcard (random head cannon)

Loves when you wear his clothes. He’ll fuck you in his varsity jacket, his hat, any of ther merch from the frat. Seeing you in nothing but the shirt with the greek letters of his frat on it makes him dumb. 

X - X-ray

Average length, but goddamn does he know how to use it. He knows exactly how to angle himself and thrust into you to hit the exact right spot that has you dissolving beneath him. 

Y - Yearning(how high is there sex drive)

Very. High. You can’t get enough of each other. You wonder how a full time student and hockey player has this much energy, but you’re not complaining. 

Z - ZZZ(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If you’re in bed, you always cuddle afterwards and talk about whatever. You’ll both drift off, eventually one of you not answering the other’s questions. Sometimes, Will will keep talking to you, even if he knows you’re asleep. He plays with your fingers that are intertwined with his and always kisses you before closing his own eyes.