#attention whoring at its finest

[sytoran]

⋆⭒˚｡★ ❝MILE HIGH CLUB❞ ★ n.romanoff !

pairing ★ sub!natasha romanoff x fem!avenger!reader

synopsis ★ on a plane ride to dubai for a romantic getaway, natasha takes matters into her own hands, and your cock into her own mouth. (oops?)

warnings ★ explicit content (minors dni), pwp, semi-public sex, jealous natasha is scarily hot, you are not the lord's strongest soldier, you have a cock, you almost get caught (kind of)

word count ★ 2.6k (IM BACKKK!!!! ...for now)

With Thor, Valkyrie and Carol back on Earth for about two weeks or so, you and Natasha were relieved of your Avenger duties. And what better way to spend the restful break than going on a romantic getaway to Dubai with the love of your life?

On the eighth of the eleven-hour flight, you were perfectly content to lounge in the luxuries of first-class, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. But it seems that for the Avenger who was constantly on her feet, Natasha didn't deal well with ennui.

“I’m bored, Y/N.”

Unbeknownst to your girlfriend’s hidden agenda, you paid little mind to Natasha’s statement, continuing to watch the subpar rom-com playing on the aeroplane screen in blissful ignorance.

“Sorry, baby, I know it’s a long flight. You wanna watch this movie with me?”

Natasha lets out an aggravated huff. Because of course you didn’t know the effect you had on her. As much as the whole Avenger getup was as bold as it was impressive, this laid-back version of you really showcased the underlying details that marked her attraction to you.

Thin-rimmed reading glasses sat atop your nose, stray hairs framing the delicacy of your sharp cheekbones and marble-cutting jawline. With a tight-fitting black turtleneck that strained under the bulkiness of your sinful biceps, cut from the finest vibranium, and loosely-hung grey sweatpants that finished off the whole look — Natasha was just about ready to start sucking you off.

That passing thought had just been one of amusement, rhetorical and hyperbolic, seemingly impossible but altogether funny. But then Natasha takes a few steps back, figuratively, and considers it again — and a smile likened to a scheming devil crawls upon her face.

Well, Widows always got what they wanted, didn’t they?

“Y/N,” Natasha purrs, intently pressing into your side.

“Mhm?” you hum, reaching out a hand to entwine it with hers. ��What’s wrong, sweetheart? You still bored?”

Your reaction was simply so innocent and angelic that Natasha almost felt bad for the devil-spawned arbitrary ploy she was about to enact.

Suddenly surging forward, Natasha lifts up the armrest that separates your seats, closing the distance between her and a trip down to hell, and lets a hand cup the mouth-watering bulge in your grey sweatpants.

“I said I’m bored, Daddy,” she whispers into your ear. “Mommy wants to play.”

The loud half-splutter, half-cough that resounds around the enclosed space around the two of you within the aeroplane is immaculate.

You choke on inhaled air, looking around at the other passengers with disbelief and anxiety, as if you had been scandalised.

And maybe you had been. Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you desperately try to look away from the tantalising cleavage shoved in front of your sinning eyes.

Natasha’s low-cut top had you fighting every calvary in your mental war, and you struggle to regain a semblance of composure.

“But, uhm, Daddy wants to remind Mommy that we’re surrounded by complete strangers,” You whisper urgently, a handsome flush overtaking your features. “And that we are very well-known Avengers across the globe, so if we were to get caught we would end up on every news headline for the next month. And if it reaches Fury, well, we’d be in shit ton of trouble.”

Your state of arousal is unhelpfully heightened further when you notice that Natasha is eyeing your growing erection like a hawk, front teeth sinking into her ruby-red lip, ready to take strike and devour its prey.

“Oh darling, you know I’m a whore for attention,” Natasha replies loftily, and the silky-smooth way that the word ‘whore’ rolls off her tongue triggers a jolt of arousal straight to the tent in your sweatpants.

When Natasha begins caressing the hefty bulge in between your legs, a low groan emits from the depths of your throat and it melts in Natasha’s lower belly in the form of molten arousal.

“Natasha, as much as I want to rail you senseless in this very second—”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t think that this is a good idea—”

“Stop thinking, then,” Natasha responds as if it’s the most simple answer in all of the galaxy, and before you can come up with another futile reason to deter her girlfriend’s libido, Natasha launches into action.

In a fraction of a second that could have rivalled Spiderman’s speed, Natasha unbuckles her seatbelt and sinks to her knees in front of your seat. Another upside of first-class was the spacious legroom which Natasha fully utilised. Ducking under your blanket, she drapes it over her hunched figure and tucks herself neatly between your legs.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, fumbling to unbuckle your own seatbelt and letting Natasha slide down your sweatpants. Social decency be damned, for when Natasha Romanoff presented herself to you, ripe for the taking, no one simply denied themself of that glorious heaven.

Deft fingers tug down black Calvin Klein boxers, and a huge, hardened cock springs out of its confinement. You exhale shakily as a hand wraps around the base, and a feather-light finger trails over its girthy length.

“I’m not surviving this, am I?” You mutter underneath your breath, leaning back into the seat. In response, Natasha gives kitten licks to the pre-cum emerging at your heady tip, so saintly and sinful all the same.

Guiding the head of your cock to a hot mouth, Natasha leisurely wraps her lips around the shaft. Your iron-hard grip on the armrest was almost completely useless in the face of regaining normalcy, not when the feeling of velvet lips set alight every nerve on her body.

“Fuck,” you curse breathlessly, your face contorting into one of pleasure. Darkened eyes fixate unto the blanket Natasha was hidden under, and your wandering mind fuels an image of your girlfriend’s hollowed cheeks and pliant mouth, to which you almost fall apart there and then.

Dirty, scandalous and filthy was being able to feel Natasha’s tongue swirl around your cock without seeing it happen. Your lack of sight heightened the sensitivity of your other senses by tenfold, and you had to physically restrain herself from bucking your hips forward.

Without warning, Natasha tilts her head up, ruffling the blankets, and then engulfs your cock in the threshold of her throat.

“Oh, Thanos' head on a fucking stick—”

“Excuse me ma’am, what can I get for you today?”

Your eyes fly open in a nanosecond, head jerking to the source of distraction. There in the aisle stood an air stewardess with a push-cart and a smile just a little too wide.

“Uh, uhm, just a water would be fine,” you choke out, attempting to exhale steadily as if you hadn’t been about to combust in your girlfriend's mouth just a few seconds ago.

“Right away, ma’am,” The stewardess answers. “You getting hot and bothered from the show?” She asks harmlessly, a smirk tugging up on her face.

You take a moment to understand the jest. Before you the shitty rom-com is still playing, except now there's a badly orchestrated sex scene playing, where the male actor is trying too hard to act as if he’s doing any good. It doesn’t do you any good that your face is flushed and evidently flustered, but for different yet similar reasons.

A false laugh escapes your lips, in hopes of driving the woman away. “What! No, no way. I’m all good here.”

You swear you can smell the jealousy radiating off from Natasha in leaps and bounds, and you decide it is best to end the conversation before Natasha fuses and convulses simultaneously.

God forbid Natasha decides to start deepthroating your cock at that exact moment.

You let out a ragged groan in front of the stewardess, as a hot mouth engulfs your cock in quick succession, sucking back and forth with an esteemed fervour.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” The lady asks, leaning closer, reaching out a hand to pat the side of your face.

You lean back, rapidly attempting to steady your breathing, and failing miserably. Natasha’s bobbing her head up and down with energised vigour, determined in her mission.

“Y-yeah, it’s really alright. Th-thanks, again.”

Just as you thought all was done and dusted, the air stewardess looks around cautiously. She leans closer to you with batted eyelashes and a supposedly seductive wink.

Then, in a low and sultry voice that seals your fate, the woman says, “Let me know if you need anything special, handsome.” You choke back a moan as Natasha twists her head, her talented tongue doing wonders to her cock.

The lady can’t get out of your sight any slower.

The moment the air stewardess disappears into the confines of the next cabin, footsteps fading away, Natasha's head whips out of the blanket, furrowed brows and an aggravated expression taking you by storm.

“‘Let me know if you need anything special, handsome!?’ Who does that whore think she is? Baby, do note that it’s taking me very large amounts of self-restraint not to get up right now and slap her silly. I can’t believe that an air stewardess would hit on anyone so openly like that, much less you! God, Y/N, I—”

Natasha’s stream of enjambments decrescendos into a meek silence at the look on your face.

Evanescent was the abrupt change in your demeanour, as if a switch had been flicked, as if the rest of the world had faded away, and it was just the two of them left.

Natasha’s cheeks flush so prettily, so quickly, because that look on your face only meant one thing.

A set jaw, glinting in the light — cut marble sculpted from the finest hands. Eyes that descend into such deep hues that Natasha feels like she’s drowning like the Titanic, downwards towards the depths of hell.

“Less talking, baby, more sucking.”

A rough hand finds Natasha’s head under the blanket and her hair is tugged on forcefully, jerking it forward to engulf the entirety of your cock. Natasha is more than happy to comply.

Natasha’s pretty gag is lost in the sound of the ongoing turbulence, and you grunt and drag those velvet walls down the length of your cock again. If Natasha decided to act like a brat, you could sure as hell treat her like one.

Up and down, up and down, and the way you manhandle Natasha to deepthroat a solid eight inches should be considered an Avengers-level threat. If you close your eyes, you can almost see the tears welling up in Natasha’s eyes, her pretty lips wrapped around your cock, strands of hair clinging to beads of sweat that adorn her face.

You're not too sure if the wet and squelching noises you hear are from Natasha's slick throat or a figment of your ever-rampant imagination. Either way, the contracting waves of Natasha’s throat around your cock is downright sinful, pretty and easy and oh so pliant.

From base to tip and tip to base, a preordained promise of paradise hangs in the atmosphere, and with each passing stroke, you barrel towards that high. You thrust hard into Natasha's throat, stretching it out, filling it up.

You lose yourself in the wet heat of Natasha’s mouth, your cock being stimulated in such heavenly eloquence of Natasha’s tongue. As an Avenger, you've fought a thousand battles, but none of them have ever quite left you as breathless as this one.

You're awfully close.

In the haze of being used like a mindless fucktoy, Natasha’s hand slips up the expanse of your clenched thigh muscle, and proceeds to toy with the heavy sack of balls. You groan, gripping Natasha’s hair tighter, tugging her downwards.

You're really, really close.

Your ears prick up as a sound emits from under the blanket, and your keen hearing picks up a whiny moan that sounds an awful lot like “Daddy, please”.

Oh, fuck.

Natasha’s helpless plea is what causes you to tumble over the edge of precipice, waves crashing and planets colliding as your vision becomes pure, unadulterated, white heat. “Fuck,” you grunt, a dragged-out groan from your chest, a ringing emblem of castle walls that crumble down.

Streaks and streaks of milky, white fluid are released into the depths of Natasha’s throat, coating her velvet walls, thick and creamy as it splatters against pink walls. Contented moans resound from Natasha, as she continues to suck on your extensive cock like it’s her last lifeline, like she might as well perish without it.

For a brief moment, you question your existence in the universe, and how remarkably infinitesimal you feel, hanging kilometres above the wide open sea and nothing else.

Be it land or sea or stars, though, you think you've found your muse, your reason for staying.

“Natasha,” you breathe out, like a sacred prayer, like a haunted blessing, as pleasure overrides your system.

You don’t recall quite how long you stay in that exact position, a hand cupping the back of Natasha’s head, rocking gently thorugh the aftershocks, Natasha’s palm resting on the side of your thigh.

Sentience gradually floats back into your capability, and you slowly blink as you arise from your out-of-body experience. “Well, shit,” you mumble, the aeroplane filtering into view, the snores from sleeping passengers around you becoming audible again.

Once the coast was deemed clear, you lift up the blanket covering your lap, but it turns out to be a dreadful decision as the sight of Natasha almost causes you to roll back into another orgasm.

Natasha’s previously neat hair was now a complete mess, sticking to her mouth and the sides of her face in the heat of sweat and slick. What used to be perfect, unblemished eyeshadow was now a runny mess due to Natasha’s tears, and a nude shade of bottle-red lipstick was smeared across her mouth and your semi-erect cock.

Lowered lashes shielded a smokey gaze, nearly all black, and you can feel herself hardening again, like you hadn’t just received a filthy blowjob that would make the heavens blush.

Immediately, that image of Natasha Romanoff was imprinted into her mind for an eternity to come, saved for future purposes.

By some saintly miracle, none of the passengers surrounding had awoken, and Natasha successfully crawls back into her seat with an all-too-smug smile.

“How was it?” She asks innocently, batting those lashes with a seductive head-tilt.

“I don’t know, maybe you should’ve moaned ‘Please, Daddy,’ just a little louder,” you retort quickly, no bite behind your words, delighting in the pink flush that adorns your girlfriend’s cheeks.

On about the ninth hour of the flight, approximately one hour after Natasha drew out an earth-shattering orgasm from your megalithic shaft, you effectively draws closer to Natasha, with crossed arms that unhelpfully accentuate the bulge of your biceps.

“Let me rail you in the toilet?”

“Y/N L/N, I am not sitting my bare ass on that filthy bathroom counter. I don't wish to end up with an STI."

“Who says I need to a counter to fuck you, hm?”

──── ☆ ⋅ ★ ⋅ ☆ ────

After three splendid orgasms, more abundant wails of ‘Daddy, please’ emitting from the toilet, and that same, very embarrassed flight stewardess politely requesting for them to get the fuck out, you and Natasha land in Dubai, officially kickstarting your romantic getaway with a bang.

Literally, quite a bang.

haven't written something new in forever, hopefully this is enough to satiate you gremlins' desires... (but forreal tho, thanks for sticking around) reblog or i'll hunt you down and NOT post for 12493482 years

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[ashblooddragons]

In Ripe And Ruin

This was a request by @vavafaure1994 I'm so sorry this took me so long to make! I hope it was worth the wait!

also special thanks to @sugutoad for making this fics moonboard! I don't know what I would do without you girly!

Word Count: 2504

Warnings: semi public sex, dirty talk, oral f receiving, swearing, p in v sex, loss of Virginity, purity kink, blood kink, tell me if I missed anything

Summary: When Lady Elia Martell came to the Red Keep for her little sister's betrothal, she didn't expect to catch the attention of a certain Rouge Prince and most certainly didn't expect this visit to involve her being the one betrothed and not her little sister. also this is my first ever smut so do be kind, I tried my best!

I can’t believe my father agreed to come to the little Prince Jacaerys sixth nameday. Though I shouldn’t be surprised, not after seeing that letter from the heir asking if her son and my youngest sister could be betrothed.

I watch as the soon-to-be betrothed run around together. “She will be Queen one day if we agree to this match. Don’t you wish for Arianne to sit on a throne just as you will sit mine?” My father says as he smiles and waves to the heir to the iron throne. 

“But that is the thing, Father, she will not sit on the throne, only look pretty beside it with that boy's seed leaking down her legs as she clutches her swelled belly.” I fire back through clenched teeth as I smile at what seems to be a prancing lion turned human, and not in a good way. 

“Elia.” He chides

“I speak only the truth you seem to be blind to, Father. What you forget at every turn is that we are not like them, we do not see Bastards as sinful as they do. They will kill my dear sister the moment that diseased King falls from that throne. For they know what we all do, that boy, nor his brothers are true-born Velaryons. No matter how hard the Princess so direly tries to make everyone believe they are. And when the King dies, a war will break out, and I will not let little Arianne be in the middle of it.” I hiss back before walking away as my father calls for me.

I walk over to a food table and pick up a honey cake. “Those are my personal favorites as well.” I hear someone say behind me, his voice sent shivers of exhilaration down my spine. I turn and see none other than The Rouge Prince himself smirking at me.

“Well, that’s a shame for you as this is the last one.” I say as I take a bite with a smirk.

He chuckles and looks at my eyes inquisitively. I know why, though my black ringlets and olive skin say I am a  Martell, but my eyes of vibrant Lavender say I’m a Targaryen. “Viserra’s daughter, Elia Martell right?” He inquires as he reaches for a vine of grapes, popping one into his mouth.

My mother passed birthing me, I’m the only child of Princess Viserra. I’ve been told if it weren’t for my hair and skin tone I’d be her clone and anytime I see her portrait I can’t blame them as I at times think someone had ruined one pf mone own only to realize it is my mother’s. 

“What gave it away?” I tease smiling when he laughs fondly. His laugh a deep and sultry sound and the way he’s looking at me as if I’m a gazelle and he’s a lion about to pounce on its prey and have the most delectable feast, leaves me breathless trying to find my footing again.

“What brings a sand Queen to this shit-filled city? Surely there is more to your visit than just making men think most debauched thoughts.” He says as he reaches for two wine glasses from a servant passing by, handing me one with his signature smirk. 

“I had not meant to make men think such ways, though if they are that is their problem is it not?” I say looking down at my dress, in Dorne it would be seen as normal and lovely dresses fit for the heiress to her families seat. But the dress of the finest silks and chiffon only reserves me disgusted looks and the word ‘whore’ whispered behind me as I pass.

“Hmm, that doesn’t answer my question, why are you here? Dorne only comes here if it is of the utmost importance.” 

“My little sister, Arianne,” I say pointing to her talking to the little Prince Jacaerys. “There’s a possible betrothal between her and the little Prince. I do not think it is the right choice, there is a war to come, you know this just as well as I do there is no avoiding it. I do not want her to be in the middle of something she has no part in. She is too gentle and kind for your cruel and septic city and Kingdom filled with snakes and vultures reader to swallow her whole. I do not like that the Princess is now bringing house Martell into her mess because she can not clean it up on her own. Targaryen problems should stay with the Targaryens” I say seriously.

“Are you not also Targaryen?” He says amused looking me up and down trying to asses me after my little speech.

Underestimated me, you will learn to never do that my Prince. 

“Yes I am, I even claimed the she-dragon Sliverwing, but it is not I the Princess wishes to bring into her problems, it is my sister a girl with no Targaryen blood. If it were me that would be a different story, but it isn’t.” 

“Well, put.” He says as he holds out a hand to me. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?” He asks and I take his hand letting him lead me to the horde of dancing courtiers and ladies. 

“So tell me, I had heard you claimed Sliverwing, though not how you had done it.” He says gripping my waist holding me close enough I feel his breath against my ear sending a shiver of want down my spine.

“I kept seeing something in the clouds, it felt like it was pulling at my very soul, calling to me. One night I couldn’t handle it anymore I left the keep and followed that pull and when I finally felt the end of the string, felt it finally slacken, there she was, as if waiting for me to build the courage to face her. I climbed her back, I didn’t need to say a word she thrust herself into the air letting out a happy roar. I knew then with her wings beating under me what I had done, what every child, especially a Targaryen child dreams of, I claimed a dragon.” 

When I looked up at him again he seemed enthralled with my story. I gasp when I see how close we’ve gotten, our lips only an inch apart only needing one of us to bridge the gap and our lips would be locked. I look him in the eyes and see the lust filling his amethyst pools and I know he sees the same lust in my Lavender ones. 

“It’s interesting that our souls know where we belong before we do, don’t you think?” He asks in a tone that tells me there is a darker, more debauched reason behind this question.

When he turns me in time with the beat of the music I feel dizzy with lust, the only thing grounding me is him grabbing my hands so my arms are crossed against my chest and my back rests against his chest. when I look up at the royal table I see the Crowned Princess glaring at me and the Prince, I see the rage she feels towards me and the want she has for The Rouge Prince.

“And what is your soul telling you now, my Prince?” I ask turning my head to look up at him and when I do I feel his breath fan my lips. I feel a coil of need, of lust, form in my abdomen as I feel the large hardness of him against me.

“That it seems we need privacy.” He says as he grips my hand pulling me through the horde of dancers until he leaves the throne room. He continues to drag me until he finds a secluded corridor, he then turns and kisses me walking me back until my back hits the cool stone of the keep. 

I gasp when he dips his head down and starts to suck and bite at the soft skin of my neck. “How have I lived this long without tasting your sweet lips, sweet skin? Is that cunt of yours just as sweet?” He asks as he rucks up the skirt of my dress, I feel his hand grips my thigh as the other grips my hair keeping my head in place as he devourers my lips again swallowing any moans or whimpers that would escape me. 

I gasp when I feel his fingers graze against my wet core. “Gods you're already wet, I knew you wanted me just as much as I wanted you.” He says as he gets down on his knees in front of me lifting my leg onto his shoulder. 

When I realize what he is trying to do I grip his hair stopping his advancement. “I–I’ve never–.” I stutter out blushing as he gives me a wolfish grin.

“Your telling me this sweet cunt is unspoiled? That I am the first to taste it?” He asks as if in a trance.

“Yes, I still have my maidenhood.” I say breathlessly. 

I gasp at the way he looks up at me after learning of this, it’s the look of a madman, of a man given all he has desired on a silver platter and now it is time for him to feast. 

And with that thought in my mind, he delves forward between my legs to lick at my wet core. I slap my hand to my lips trying to muffle my moans. 

I can’t help but fear someone will hear us, more so me I suppose, as of course he couldn’t bring me to his chambers or even a storage closet, only a secluded corridor where anyone can hear or see us. For some reason the thought of someone catching us excites me, making me clench on nothing.

I feel his tongue inside my core and I move my skirts so I can see him better. When I do I see him smirking up at me as he sucks on my pearl, I throw my head back letting out a loud moan. 

“Seven hells, keep singing for me, love.” I hear him growl against me as he laves at my pearl and he sinks a finger inside me curling it just right to make me see stars. As he licks and sucks, pumps and curls I feel my legs tremble the only thing keeping me up is the Prince.

“Please! Please! Please!” I beg not fully sure for what though all I know is the coil in my gut is hot and tight and I need it to release.

“Not yet, love, you don’t get to peak without me.” He says as he rises back up keeping a grip on my thigh as he unties his trousers. 

When he pulls out what must be his cock I gasp and shack my head. “Th–there's no way that is going to fit.” 

I only hear him chuckle as he kisses my neck again gripping my other thigh so he can lift me and my legs wrap around his waist. “It’ll fit, it may be painful but I’ll make it fit.” 

I feel him tap the head of his cock to my pearl making me whimper before he positions himself to my core stretching me to the point of pain. I bite his shoulder fighting back my scream of pain as tears roll down my face. 

“Shh, it’s alright, love just relax.” He whispers as he hisses as he tries to push his way through. “Fuck your a vice, you weren’t lying about being a maiden.” He groans

I continue to cry and whimper as I bite his shoulder until he pushes his way through till he bottoms out, once he does I feel something snap.

He rests his brow to mine waiting for me to relax before he moves, he kisses my tears as they fall slower and slower now as the pain subsides to want and need. I try and move my hips silently imploring him to move, and when I look up at him again I see him smirking down at me. 

“Please.” I whimper out.

“Please what, love?” He teases and I look up at him pleadingly. “Tell me what you need.”

“Move, please move.” I say not knowing what else to say to convey my need.

He lets an animalistic growl as he starts to thrust into me, gripping my hips and plush thighs. I bite my lip trying to hold back my moans only letting the whimpers and whines of pleasure leave my throat.

“Fuck, look at that mess.” I hear him groan as he looks down at where we meet. When I pick my dress up more so I can see what he speaks of,  I see the smear of blood coating his cock and white hairs upon his pelvis. 

“I’m sorry.” I moan out gripping his shoulders tighter as he thrusts into me faster and harder. 

“Don’t be, love, it’s a welcome sight.” He says before capturing my lips in a searing kiss that leaves me breathless as he fucks me against the stone wall. 

I moan into his lips until he pulls back looking me in the eyes as he hits me where I see stars. “You won’t need to worry for your sister anymore, love. For she won’t be needed for an alliance anymore once I fuck my babe into you and wed you before the gods.” 

I can only moan and nod my head in response completely lost to the pleasure he is giving me. He continues to thrust into me hitting me each time in the spot that makes my mind go black. That is until he grips my hair and makes me look at him.

“Fucking say your mine, say you’re made for me.” He demands as he continues to thrust into me.

“I’m your, my Prince, all yours.” I gasp out feeling my peak on the precipice 

“Daemon.” He growls out.

“Wh–what?”

“Call me by my fucking name.” He says emphasizing each word with a sharp thrust. 

“Daemon! Daemon! Daemon!” I cry out as my peak crashes over me in sharp suffocating waves. I swear I hear him groan as he releases his spend in me but I can’t be sure as all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart in my ears.

Once we’ve both come down from our highs he sets me on my own two feet again steadying me as my legs still tremble. I try and ignore the feel of his sticky seed leaking from my core and roll down my legs.

“Did you mean it? Did you mean what you said of marrying me?” 

“Yes.” Is all he says in return.

I don’t know why I believe him, but when I look into his eyes I find nothing but conviction and honesty.

Seems my sister won’t be getting betrothed after all, but me instead. this is most definitely not how I thought this night would go. I think with a chuckle as I kiss the Pri-Daemon again saying in all but words I accept.

Taglist @sugutoad @ilikefelines @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @baybaybear1

[paulyenvol6]

At your mercy (Part 1)

Based on this request

I wrote so much that I decided to split the story into two parts so this is part 1 and part two will probably be out tomorrow. Also, thank you so much to the person that requested this, I really love the concept and I hope you're happy with it too. I feel like I drifted away a little and Daemon is more like mean and soft dom rather than only soft dom but I hope that's fine :)

Contains: smut, chain play, kissing, touching, breast/nipple play, possessiveness, soft & mean dom Daemon

Wordcount: ~4.28k

Masterlist

You had only been gone for four days and already missed Daemon which, when you thought about it made sense.

You obviously had been spoiled these past months with him being by your side every second because now, standing in the streets of Pentos, your home, you couldn't help but miss your real home, Daemon. But you knew that it wouldn't be long until you saw him again and you were also genuinely happy to be back in the place you were born. All these familiar scents and colours that you simply didn't smell and see in King's Landing.

The streets were crowded with merchants and salesmen, common people, whores and little children all shouting and screaming so they could be heard. That was one of the things that you missed in King's Landing because though similar scenes took place in the streets of the capital, you, as the king's brother's betrothal, were not supposed to interact with the small folk in the streets. It was too dangerous.

Even now you were accompanied by two of your handmaidens, four knights and your travel compagnion Ygor to guide and protect you. Daemon had insisted on it even after you had told him that you knew the city better than King's Landing and any other place in the world and had said that one knight should be enough.

But now there you were, strolling through the streets with your little group of people. You had come to Pentos to discuss some details for your wedding gown and that was already almost done now. A young, meereenese tailor had presented the magnificant rosé dress to you and your jaw had dropped. This had been one of your wishes for your wedding. You wanted to be dressed in traditional Pentoshi clothing and of course Daemon had granted you this wish. And though it took some effort to have one of the finest tailors in Essos to design your wedding gown, of course the crown had been able to instruct it and when you had laid your eyes on the dress you knew that everything was worth it.

It was lovely with its wide sleeves and the lace covering parts of its front and your arms. It fell down in several layers and had your neck and shoulders exposed. You just hadn't been able to stop thinking about what Daemon would say when he saw you in that dress for the first time and it made your heart flutter.

But now all of that was finished, the nice tailor had written down the little changes that you desired and you had told your travel company your wish to stroll through the city. It was burning hot, way hotter than it was in the capital and you were happy about the umbrella that your handmaidens held over your head in order to protect you from the sun.

You saw little children desperately licking up the last drops of water in their cups, elders fanning themselves with wind and goats crouching against the cool stoney walls in an attempt to escape the sun. Your eyes picked up everything and you were almost not fast enough to notice the different scenes happening in front of you. Memories from long ago came back to your mind when you remembered yourself right here. You were of noble birth so of course you hadn't spent your time on the ground with other small folk children but you had always enjoyed joining your maids when they had needed to make a trip into the city.

Suddenly your attention was drawn to a fair on the other side of the street and you stopped. The building was beautiful and it seemed like the place was crowded with people coming and going.

"I would like to see that fair.", you said turning around to Ygor and he nodded. "Of course, princess."

So it was decided that two of your knights would come with you and the rest would wait outside as it was so crowded that you would probably loose them in the there anyway. You were excited to see what the fair was selling and jingled the coins in your pockets. You really wanted to buy something for Daemon to surprise him when you came back. Perhaps some exotic food or a nice scarf?

You calmly moved through the crowd and saw merchants shouting louder than the other. They wanted to sell their stuff and weren't afraid to brag with promises about their products. But your eyes wandered to a small tent where fewer people were standing. The scent of roses and sandalwood filled your nose and you were drawn to it so you slowly walked to it and pulled the drape to the side so you could enter the tent while your guards waited outside.

"Gevie riña, byka riña, rytsas." (Beautiful girl, little lady, welcome.), the saleswoman shouted when she saw you enter.

"Sȳz tubis" (Good day), you answered with a friendly nod.

"Or do you speak the common tongue, my lady?", the saleswoman then asked with a little accent, perhaps seeing in your clothes and jewelery that you didn't live in Pentos.

"I speak the common tongue as well.", you said.

"That's good. I'm from Myr and I can't understand the low valyrian spoken here." You nodded and smiled and then started to look around in the tent.

"What are you selling?", you asked your eyes on all the little bottles and cans that stood on shelfs or tables.

"Whatever it is you desire, my lady. Candles, oils, jewelery, erotic products."

Your eyes met hers and you felt butterflies in your stomach. Mayhaps you could find your betrothed a little gift in here.

"Come, pretty lady. What scents do you like? I have jasmine candles, lavender oil, that's very good for the skin. Or do you want a towel made of the finest cotton your skin ever touched."

You were overwhelmed with the saleswoman's fast tongue and tried to keep up with all the products she offered you. At last you chose a champaca oil for the hair because you knew how much Daemon liked the scent. And you additionally decided to buy a bottle of sandalwood perfume, a jar of lip balsam and a candle that smelled of honey and awoke a hunger for banana bread in you. The kind saleswoman wouldn't stop talking and you couldn't stop smirking while listening to her flood of words. But in the end you were content and strolled through the tent to see the corners with jars and bottles and etiquettes so small one almost couldn't read what it said.

You halted by a shelf with chains and raised your eyebrows. Something about them interested you and you examined the shiny metal. It felt cold in your hand, a contrast to the burning heat and the mixture of all the different smells that made your head dizzy. The chains felt good in your hand and you let your finger run over the coldness. You didn't exactly know why but suddenly you felt like buying one. You were in a good mood and something about them excited you and it made your insides flutter when you thought about one of them in Daemon's hand… and feeling the coldness on your skin. You decided to take one and chose a pretty silver one that was one of the longest. The saleswoman was pleased to see that you had once again found something to your liking and took the chain from your hands to put it in a beautiful velvet box. But before she closed the cover you cleared your throat.

"Could you…", you began and the woman raised her gaze. "Could you personalize it?", you asked while feeling the heat in your cheeks because the thought that had just entered your brain made you feel aroused.

"Of course, pretty lady. What would you like to have on it?" You reached inside your pocket and quickly found what you were looking for.

"This."

It was a pendant with a dragon on it. Daemon had gifted it to you back when you had only known him for a few moons and ever since that day you had always kept it close to you. Now you thought it was time to have the pendant on a chain so you could wear it around your neck or your body with his pendant always on your skin. The saleswoman smiled friendly and took the pendant that you had offered her.

"Of course. No problem. You can get the chain in two days, until then it should be done."

You thanked her, paid her and now finally wanted to leave but yet again when you walked towards the entrace you stopped. You hadn't seen this part of the tent because it was right next to the exit and you hadn't looked to your right when you had entered. There was a small shelf with rings of silver and gold that reflected the light that shone through the entrance. You frowned and turned around to the saleswoman.

"What are those?", you asked and she swiftly came forward.

"They are decoration for a woman's body, my lady. You wear them on all your most initmate parts to feel everything thrice as much." You blushed hearing her words but grew interested. "You can wear them on your lips or nose or ears but also on your nipples and between your legs. A man will find himself pleased with the jewellery embellishing the woman's body but what he doesn't know is that she feels everything so much more intense."

You raised your eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"It leaves you breathless. Gives you pleasure and overtakes all your senses. Everything you have ever enjoyed, you will enjoy even more with these rings on."

You gulped and felt a little anxious but curious at the same time. The thought of having a ring pierced through your sensitive nipples scared you but what she had described sounded exciting. And yet you decided to leave. You had already bought so many things and finally wanted to get back to the mansion you were staying in to rest and drink some water. That's why you smiled, said goodbye once more and walked out to meet with your guards. All the way back you felt flushed and fussy, not only becaus e of the chain you had purchased but because you still thought about these mysterious little rings…

~~~~~~~~~~

As you had promised, two days later you found yourself in the mysterious little tent of the saleswoman again to pick up your chain. She was in a good mood and raved about how pretty the chain looked with the pendant and you were happy when she handed it over to you. You had been nervous to come back here not because you felt uncomfortable but because you were in the same room as the little rings that you hadn't been able to abandon from your mind these past days. What the woman had described had left you curious and aroused and you had caught your thoughts drifting to them over and over again. The merchandiser had seemingly noticed your interest as well because she followed your gaze and smiled softly.

"You can try one.", she said and your eyes shot to her.

"What?"

"I'm sure they would look pretty on you, my lady." You chuckled and nervously toyed with your fingers.

"I don't know… Doesn't it hurt?"

The woman shrugged. "Perhaps. But perhaps it is worth it."

You thought about it and chewed on your lower lip. You would definitely like to try but… what if it was too uncomfortable? Or what if Daemon didn't like it? The saleswoman watched you while you were deep in thoughts and then grabbed your hand to pull you closer to the shelf with the rings.

"Gold would look magnificant on your brown skin, pretty lady.", she said. "You should try it. I've never met a man who didn't like to see his lady decorated like a princess."

You grinned and let her guide your fingers to touch one of the rings. You watched them for a while and then straightened up.

"Alright. I should like to try."

"Wonderful.", the saleswoman smirked. "Lysiros!", she shouted and seconds later a young man with thick brown hair entered the tent from a back entrace.

"Skoros iksis ziry?" (What is it?)

"This lovely young lady would like to have a ring on her…?"

You anxiously lowered your gaze. "Nipples.", you mumbled and the saleswoman smiled widely with lifted eyebrows. "So be it."

And so the woman's assistant who turned out to be a very kind and soft man pierced both your nipples with two pretty gold rings. It only slightly hurt and you were thrilled when you watched yourself in the mirror.

"Are you happy, pretty lady?", the saleswoman said when she watched your reflection.

"Yes. Very.", you said feeling delighted and couldn't wait for your betrothed to see it. You wanted to see his eyes when they wandered down your body and how they changed their colour every time he felt lustful. Just the mere thought of him made you slightly press your legs together and so after you had paid for the rings the only thing in your head for the rest of the day was Daemon.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was two days later when your travel company and you set sails for King's Landing and by now you missed Daemon so much that you wished he could just come and get you on his dragon so you were united again. But you had no choice but to daydream about him during the four days it took to sail from Pentos to King's Landing and when you finally stepped on Westerosi ground again excitement and joy were controlling your senses. It was evening already and your head raced as you thought about where Daemon might be and you came to the conclusion that he probably already was in his chambers. So you sent your servants to bring your things to your room. The things you had bought from the saleswoman in the fair though you took with you as you made your way up the many stairs to the red keep.

The corridors were dimmed and not a lot of people except guards strolled through the halls. You almost tripped from your excitement and hoped that you might be able to catch him off guard while he took a bath so you sneakily opened the door to his chambers and quietly made your way inside. You saw his clothes on a shelf next to the curtain that separated the room from another part of it in which the bathtub was so you knew that you had been right. Now you just had to quietly take off your clothes and then you could surprise him…

"Hello?", you suddenly heard him say loudly and you freezed. This hadn't exactly worked and you sighed. But quickly you were filled with happiness again because he was there and you could see him now finally. You swiftly walked to the curtain and pulled it to the side.

"Good evening, betrothed.", you smirked as Daemon looked up to you and smiled when he recognized you.

"My love.", he sighed and you swiftly hasted to him to wrap your arm around his head and press kisses to his wet head.

"I've missed you so much.", you complained and he reached up to wrap his arms around your back.

"Come join me please.", he said and you chewed on your lower lip. You had wanted to surprise him with the rings on your nipples but right now felt too nervous to reveal them yet. You wanted to enjoy some time with him first and only then present to him what you had done. So you nodded and stripped in front of him but let your undergarments on.

The Rogue Prince frowned when he realized what you were doing and raised his hand.

"What is this?", he said commanding and you gave him your best puppy eyes.

"I want to leave it on."

"Why?" You just shook your head and he suspiciously watched you with small eyes.

"I just feel like it.", you eventually whispered and Daemon exhaled but lowered his hand.

"Fine. Come here now." He made some space between his legs and you carefully entered the tub and sat with your back against his chest. He immediately wrapped his arms around your body to press you close to him and you just hoped he wouldn't feel the rings yet. Daemon buried his face in your black hair and inhaled your scent.

"Gods. I missed you, little one." You smiled and let yourself rest against him. The both of you closed your eyes and just enjoyed the moment until he opened his mouth.

"How was your trip, love?"

"It was good. But it would've been better with you." Daemon kissed the back of your head. "I know."

"The wedding gown is lovely though. I can't wait for you to see it." You felt him run his hand over your thighs and he smiled against your hair.

"I'm sure you'll look breathtaking."

"What did you do while I was gone?"

Daemon sighed. "Nothing much. I went on a hunt with Viserys." You slightly turned your head so your cheek was resting on his chest. "Really?"

"Yes. It was nice." You smiled widely. "It's good that you're bonding again."

Daemon hummed and closed his eyes while caressing the skin he could reach with your undergarments on. After a few more minutes you thought that it was time to show him your gifts and you straightened up in his lap which he commented with a grunt.

"I have a surprise for you.", you whispered and couldn't hide the smile on your face.

"What surprise?", he asked and opened his right eye.

"Come on. I'll show you."

So the two of you left the bathtub and Daemon caringly wrapped a towel around your dripping body and then one around himself. You slightly turned away from him as you took your soaked undergarments off so you were bare underneath the cotton towel. Then as Daemon had dried his body you walked to the box of things you had purchased at the fair. Your betrothed, only covered with a towel around his hips, followed you and took his seat on the bed.

"Well", you started. "I've bought a candle." You presented the item to him and Daemon smirked and grabbed it.

"Honey.", he said and you nodded. "And I bought a perfume and an oil for my hair and some balsam for my lips."

You showed each box and jar to Daemon who examined it closely and then put it on the table.

"Very nice.", he then said in the end and you smirked mischievously.

"And I have something else.", you whispered quietly and Daemon watched you with small eyes. You grabbed the pretty velvet box and handed it to him. "Open it.", you spoke and he smirked. "Alright."

He did and his eyes slowly wandered to your flushed skin after he had laid his eyes on the chain. There was something like surprise in his eyes and as if he wanted to ask you if you really wanted this.

"I want you to use it on me.", you whispered and came a step closer to him. Daemon's eyes darkened and he ran his hand over the chain and then the pendant. "I want to wear it. I want to wear your pendant on my skin. Because I'm yours."

He let out a little chuckle as he observed the chain once more and then reached out to grab your hips and pull you towards him. But there was one more thing for him so you put your hands on his' and stopped him.

"Wait.", you breathed and his eyes met yours.

"Why? I want you.", he hissed and you felt goosebumps on your arms. "Just wait, Daemon." He let go of you and you took a step back again. A smile was drawn to your face as you rested your hands on the towel wrapped around your body.

"I have one more surprise for you. And I hope you'll like it." Daemon's eyes flashed and he slightly leaned back with a smug look on his face.

"I don't think anything could hide underneath this that I couldn't like."

Slowly you removed the towel from your body and his gaze dropped to wander over your body. As you had expected it Daemon stopped at your nipples and at first you couldn't read his expression. Then he started to smirk, put the box with the chain next to him and patted his thigh.

"Come here." You obeyed him and walked to him with wobbly knees. Daemon adjusted you on his lap while keeping his eyes on your breasts all the time. Now his face was exactly the right height to examine your dark nipples that were decorated with two small gold rings.

"Pretty.", he whispered with small eyes and you felt butterflies in your stomach. He slowly ran a finger over your right nipple and slightly flicked the ring which made you hiss. They were still fresh and your nipples were even more vulnerable to his touch.

"A bit sensitive, aren't we?" You blushed from the excitement as Daemon traced the outlines of your nipples but then looked at your face again.

"Did it hurt? Getting them pierced?" You shook your head. "Not a lot. The saleswoman's assistent was very careful. He even – "

"He?", Daemon suddenly asked with lifted eyebrows. There was a frown on his face and you quickly shook your head.

"No, don't worry. He didn't do anything inappropriate." But Daemon clearly was angry as his touch on the side of your breasts became more rough.

"I don't like when another man sees what's mine. Makes me very angry.", he whispered threatingly and you once again shook your head.

"I swear it to you, Daemon. He was professional and there wasn't one wrong look." But your betrothed had clearly already made up his mind and possessively wrapped his left arm around your back.

"Next time someone touches you I'll cut their hands off. And if someone lays their eyes on you for too long I'll carve their fucking eyes out." Then he softly pulled at the left nipple ring which made you twitch on his lap.

"Mhmm.", you hummed and Daemon was delighted by watching your reactions. He flicked it to the side and then lowered his head to circle your nipple with his tongue and move the ring around. The feeling was incredible and you realized that the saleswoman hadn't exaggerated with her words. Everything was so much more intense and you were extremely sensitive around your nipples. It was a mixture of pain and pleasure and that was exactly what you loved and couldn't get enough of.

Daemon grew more eager with his touch and after a while he picked you up with one strong arm and threw you on the bed. Without giving you any time to adjust yourself he crawled to lay on top of you and placed his legs between yours. He lowered his head once again and devoured your left nipple while his hand took care of the other.

"I really like your surprises, sweet girl.", he growled and you happily buried your hand in his hair. "You're not gonna be able to do anything after I'm done with you. You don't know what you have done with showing me these things."

You pressed your core against him in anticipation and moaned when his finger pulled at the ring on your nipple. Then he started to massage your whole breast and the coldness of the rings on his fingers felt amazing. And the way they clinged against your piercings every now and then…. You already felt sore on your nipples and they were swollen from his mouth on you but neither of you cared. You let him savour your skin and he was like a wild animal claiming his prey.

After a while Daemon stopped and lifted his head. You watched him curiously to see what he would do next and felt yourself blush when he reached to the box to take the chain. He held it in his hand and examined the dragon pendant with great pleasure and then turned to you again. Daemon rested himself on top of you again and put the chain on your collarbone. The coldness made you twitch and he slowly dragged it over your body.

"What should I do with this, mhm? I could tie you up against the headboard, would you like that? I think the chain would do nicely to keep my precious girl under my control." You felt the heat between your legs and wished he would do something about it. But Daemon just pulled the chain higher until the pendant glistened on your neck. "Or I could choke you with it until you cry for me to stop. Would you like that?"

You nodded with wide eyes and felt yourself getting deeper and deeper into subspace. Next, the chain was over your mouth and Daemon ran the little dragon over your partly opened lips with lustful eyes. "Or I'll gag you with it. So I can make sure you'll behave and I don't have to listen to your complains." Your eyes fluttered and your hands helplessly clung to him.

"Please. Do whatever you like.", you whispered and felt how soaked you already were between your legs.

"I will, sweet girl.", he purred.

[bitchy-peachy]

This is so unpopular it didn't even get notes 🤣

Unpopular opinion:

There's stories with less votes in wattpad that are better written than the ones with a lot of votes.

[sky-kiss]

Okay hear me out. This isn't exactly a request unless...👀

But the Raphael x Tav dynamic where he is the only one who can poke fun or give them a hard time is eating my brain.

Like "I can call them a vapid little fool, but if anyone else does the exact same thing it's hellfire and brimstone for them. For a hundred years."

He'd call it affection if it was in his vocabulary.

A/n: This is short, but I’ve been doing a lot of Carrot!Raph and not a lot of Stick!Raph. Some gore and torture ahead. XD Also I don't think this is what you wanted RIP.

__________

“All this caterwauling! You should really feel blessed, little lamb! I rarely sully my hands these days.” Raphael folded his hands at the small of his back. Isolated from the scene around him, the devil would have appeared perfectly genteel: his doublet remained pressed, hair immaculate. Only the eyes were different, violently bright in the prison’s omnipresent gloom. 

Souls and prisoners howled around them, some in agony, some in a desperate attempt to catch the Master’s attention. He didn’t hear; only his guest mattered. 

The cambion stopped, lingering just outside their field of vision. They’d finally stopped screaming, lapsing into hiccuping sobs, slumped in on themselves. Not his finest work, he’d be the first to admit, but the rage had come upon him too abruptly for a more cerebral punishment. He reached out, fisting his hand in the sweaty mass of their hair, and tugged their head back. Terror flooded their eyes; their mouth tried to curl back in horror but failed to manage it. His claws left the cheek a ruin of tissue. He tapped a nail against the wound. They knew better than to twitch away. 

“Remind me why I’m entertaining you, little one.” 

It took three attempts before they could finally choke the word out: “Duchess.” 

“Ah, yes. How forgetful! You will have to forgive the indiscretion.” Raphael stepped closer. He’d made quite a mess, honestly. Bones jutted from strange, haphazard angles; he’d removed a few in a fit of pique. He didn’t believe they were essential, but it was always so difficult to tell with mortals. He yanked, and the little thing screamed their anguish. “And what was it you said? Be specific; your life depends on it.” 

“W…whore. Whore queen. Raph…” they winced. The mouth couldn't form the words, an ever-increasing disconnect between the body and brain as blood loss took its toll. “Your cunt.” 

“An inelegant summation.” He wiped his hand on the thing’s shoulders, glancing across the chamber. “Care to vouch for them, duchess?” 

His pet chuckled. What a sight! His finest treasure, her gown set with gems, gold chains hanging about her horns. He had created art with her. “It is they say, my duke.” 

“And that bodes well for you, little one.” Raphael knelt beside them, stroking hair back from their face. They turned their face into the motion, an awful pantomime of intimacy. “Though…perhaps not as well as you might have hoped. I guard my treasures so zealously, and she is first among them. You understand, don’t you?” 

They nodded, miserable. 

“But I am not without mercy. Should you apologize to her…we could start fresh. Would you like that, little one?” He pitched his voice lower, speaking as if in conspiracy. Two friends, ready to make peace. They released a shuddering breath and nodded. Raphael held out his arm to his duchess. She came to him with vibrant eyes and a smile, a pretty reflection of all he’d accomplished. His conquest, his might, his pretty love. “Begin, wretch.” 

“Beg…beg forgiveness, dutchess. Please…gods, please, forgive us…” 

His duchess hummed. “You are forgiven, wretch.” And to Raphael, “My love, must you play with your food? Are you nearly finished?” 

“Very nearly, little mouse. First,” he withdrew a vial from his doublet, a draught of restorative waters. He held it to his guest's lips. Like magic, flesh mended itself! Wounds shrunk and disappeared! In a matter of moments, they were whole once more.

“Merciful King, kind lord,” they sobbed, crawling towards him. The wretch painted the toe of his boot with kisses. “Never again. Not a word against you or the lady will pass my lips.” 

“No. I imagine not.” He nudged their ribs with his boots. “Alas, our fresh start will have to wait. My duchess requires me.” The imps crawled forward, hungry and eager. “I leave you in my staff’s ever-capable hands.” 

[pangtasias-atelier]

A corrin x Dwyer drabble where Dwyer is a dom to a bratty corrin sub where Dwyer makes Corrin beg for his food and general cuddling?

I don't think I've ever used Dwyer so had to look up supports ajbdbsnsj. Though I am always a whore for Corrin so this was fun and pretty easy to do! I hope you enjoy~

Warning: This is a fetish story!

Inside the finally rebuilt castle of New Valla is the finest architecture and material in the country. The massive building had been practically started over from the ground up with most of the area destroyed. But with an overly perfectionist butler to guide the reins of a tremendously enormous project, the construction had gone about as smoothly as it could go; only a few minimal issues occurred and those had all been from last minute interjections from Corrin. The castle designed with Dwyer’s input and instruction, his husband’s room had been given extra attention, not that anyone would ever argue or fault him for ensuring that New Valla’s king had a perfect room.

The room is absolutely massive. Each section of the room is nearly encumbered with trinkets and baubles, all having some sort of meaning to Corrin with each being from some gift or an item he liked. Every single item is dusted and also organized by location; all the adornments are shown off from the light that floods and illuminates the room. All the curtains fully drawn, the entirety of the immaculately spotless room is visible.

Especially the large lump of blankets that rest on the massive bed that is big enough to be twice as wide as a normal mattress. The thin clerestory window that is above the bed makes sure to allow plenty of light for its sleepy inhabitant, an idea proposed by Dwyer.

Corrin is still enjoying his time in the dream realm. The new king still snoozes off to his heart’s content. His entire body covered up by the bundle of thin blankets, the enormity of his girth is still quite apparent from just how much room he takes up. Corrin’s obese figure rests in the very center of the bed. His pile of lard for a stomach juts into the air; the blubbery stomach cascades in all directions, blanketing his own corpulence underneath all the blankets. The rest of his figure is a bit harder to make out. Corrin’s face the only part of his body exposed, his portly face has gained a new softness and roundness to them. His flabby, pinchable cheeks jiggle with each tremendous snore he takes. His hair is a bit longer than before, an extra few inches to the length; his bangs pool to the side of his face, his pointed draconic ears exposed. The back of his hair curls behind him, the soft locks of hair curved around and framing his neck, a neck that has a good extra girth to it from the extra blubber and neck rolls along with the extra chins that Corrin now sports.

Corrin still snoring away, he doesn’t budge a single inch even as the door to his room opens.

Dwyer is up and awake —already awake for several hours even— and he brings a cart with two trays of food with him. Not having gained a single ounce of flab on his figure, Dwyer still looks the same as ever. If anything, Dwyer has gotten stronger from caring for his husband, his figure not used to much when it came to anything past minimal physical labor. Though the change is only something Corrin offhandedly comments on; the difference is far from jaw dropping when it only means Dwyer’s torso and arms have the slightest bit of extra definition to them now. Even though he is the king consort of New Valla, Dwyer is still dressed in his pristine butler attire.

“Figures he’s still asleep,” Dwyer still has a smile despite the disappointment in his voice. He pushes the cart in front of him, not even looking in front of him with how he’s memorized the path to the bed. Instead, he keeps his eyes locked on Corrin, his smile widening as he stares at his husband. Well, the shape of husband, Dwyer unable to see much of anything besides the outline of Corrin’s gut and some of his thick legs. Dwyer does slam the door shut, however. Not with enough force to even risk damaging the finely crafted wood no, just enough to make some noise.

Which works perfectly. Corrin begins to stir underneath the sheets. Slowly. The bed makes zero protest from all of Corrin’s immensity. “Dwyer?” Corrin mumbles after shifting around a bit. Still in almost the exact same position laying on his back like a turtle, Corrin’s bleary eyes struggle to stay open with all the light hitting him in the face. The bit that he does see is the ceiling and his own enormity in the peripheral of his half opened eyes.

“Time to get up, piggy,” Dwyer brings the cart closer but still keeps a distance from Corrin. “Now,” He adds when he sees that Corrin hasn’t budged at all from his spot.

Corrin yawns. He stretches the best he can afterwards, extending his overly flab filled arms and ponderously wide thighs. Some of the upper blankets come off of him as he removes his arms from the warmth and safety of the material. The blankets pool down his body. Cascading down his breasts, the fabric doesn’t make it past the entirety of his mountain of a gut. Corrin’s breasts on display, the large chest wants to splay down the sides of his figure. But instead, they press down on his body. His chest is larger than his own head; each melon for a breast always eager for attention that Dwyer always gives. Corrin’s moobs are thankfully given a bit more shape to them from his bra. The bra chosen specifically by Dwyer, the band is the only thing that is even close to being properly sized. The pink silky fabric of the band is still tight on him, however; it digs into his back fat and the sides of it. Corrin’s plush flab practically covers the band, squished lard oozing over the thin fabric that sinks into hundreds of pounds of flab. The cups of the bra fare even worse. The two cups can barely even be called as such; the material offers the barest of support to Corrin’s moobs, the fabric not even covering the entirety of his nipples.

Smacking his lips together as he gives one final stretch, Corrin lets out a tired yet satisfied groan. But he doesn’t get up. “Just feed me. Please?” He slowly begins to take off the blankets. He has to reach over his gut with a flabby bicep to tug the fabric.

“And let you stay in bed?” Dwyers huffs, a smile gracing his lips as he sees Corrin sluggish struggle to take off the blanket. “You may be a whale, but that doesn’t mean you can escape getting up. Perhaps you’re embarrassed someone might say something if they see you? I’ll make sure no one says anything rude about my huge, fat pet,” Dwyer reaches over and with one swift tug, pulls off the blankets for Corrin.

Corrin’s gut responds to the freedom with a resounding gurgle, knowing that food time isn’t far off. He also smells the intoxicatingly sugary sweet, aromatic breakfast even while they’re covered up. His stomach is uncovered; much like his stomach, Corrin’s thighs are bare for all to see. The only clothes Corrin wears besides an immodestly worthless strip of fabric for a bra is a pink pair of lace tanga panties. The skimpy fabric leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, all of New Valla’s fat ass of a lazy, greedy king visible for all to see just how Dwyer likes. His panties have even less than the bare minimum of fabric for someone as piggishly fat as Corrin. The fabric bunched up in the front, the width of it doesn’t even cover half of Corrin’s fat pad. His sensitive fat pad is pushed back from how much the fabric attempts to hold back the avalanche of lard. Corrin’s ass is even worse; the two jutting ass cheeks that are wider than Dwyer have even less fabric. And unlike the front which has his sagging gut to cover up, Corrin’s ass is fully showing. The back of his panties sink in between his large ass, each shapeless smackable ass cheek coming into contact with the cold air.

“I already did so much yesterday,” Corrin’s gut continues to churn; having not missed a single meal despite his packed schedule that only he can fulfill as king—Dwyer always ready with Corrin’s meals and extras— Corrin simply grows ravenous from knowing that food is close, so useless now with Dwyer pampering him and acclimating him to the slothful lifestyle that he deserves.

“Alright. And now what does my piggy say?”

“Feed me. I want food,” Corrin demands from his spot, adjusting himself the best he can with the least amount of movement.

Dwyer does as told. He balances both trays in his hand. Placing one down on the nightstand, he carries the other even as he gets into position to straddle Corrin’s lap. Which doesn’t work at all with how fat Corrin is, Dwyer instead sitting on and straddling Corrin’s massive gut. The spot does make for a comfortable chair despite how much he has to spread his thighs from the width of Corrin's stomach. He uncovers the first tray and reveals a panorama of cheesecakes, each and every single slice prepared by yours truly.

“Where would you be without such a dedicated servant? At the very least you have repaid me by being such a worthwhile piece of furniture,” Dwyer peers down at Corrin. He rests one hand on Corrin's belly and rubs it.

Corrin moans and sinks back into his bundle of pillows. Eyes closed, he waits for Dwyer to feed him. He opens them back up when nothing is shoved into his mouth. ‘What are you waiting for? I’m hungry, so feed me!” Corrin pouts at Dwyer who only smirks back at him.

“I only needed to hear you beg once more,” Dwyer presses his thighs against Corrin’s stomach as he leans forward. Each slice already cut into perfect little cubes, Dwyer slowly drops each piece into Corrin’s mouth with his fork.

“Faster,” Corrin demands, despite doing nothing himself.

Dwyer does so, he brings more slices to Corrin’s lips the instant Corrin finishes a slice. Afterwards, he picks up the pace even more, feeding Corrin more even while he’s still eating the last bit of the previous slice. Corrin eventually keeps his mouth closed, denying the food. At least until Dwyer leans even more forward so as to drape himself over Corrin’s stomach. Pinching Corrin’s nose, Dwyer blows him a kiss as Corrin looks at him. And by the time Corrin opens his mouth for a quick breath, Dwyer crams another slice into his mouth. And another. And another even while Corrin’s mouth is stuffed with food.

“Look how greedy and fat you are. You can’t even let yourself savor such talented baking. But, if you wanted to do nothing but eat, I’m glad you said so,” Dwyer keeps up his relentless pace. The instant he thinks Corrin even has a semblance of space in his mouth, he shoves another slice of cheesecake.

“Mphmm,” Corrin’s complaints come out muffled, the obese man unable to speak with every inch of his mouth full of cheesecake. His eyes are half lidded despite wishing to complain, obviously enjoying himself.

Dwyer reaches for the second tray as soon as he feeds corrin the last slice. Uncovering it, he reveals a pitcher. “In all of my wisdom, I figured you would require something to wash down such a delicious dessert for breakfast. So I brewed you a tea as equally magnificent. You can cheer your dedicated husband and servant now,”

“Fheyncsh” Corrin mutters with an only now half full mouth.

Dwyer reaches for the pitcher and the funnel beside it. “Unfortunately, this isn’t as warm as I would like it, but I can’t have my little pig, burning his tongue,” Slotting the funnel in Corrin’s mouth, Dwyer pours the beverage into Corrin’s mouth. He expertly manages the flow of the liquid, keeping the pace fast enough to where Corrin can barely keep up while not fast enough to spill the liquid. He chuckles as he sees Corrin struggle to chug it all down.

But Corrin manages to put it all away and lets out a resounding burp after Dwyer pulls the funnel out.

“What a slob. Good thing you’ll always have a dependable person such as myself,” Dwyer places everything back on the nightstand, still seated on Corrin’s gut. “Well, I know your fat ass can eat far more than that snack. Luckily I have-”

“I want a nap,” Corrin yawns. The massively obese dragon raises a massive arm as he stretches again. Corrin slowly wobbles around, trying to move himself even with Dwyer on top of him.

“If you think you- ah!” Dwyer squeaks as he feels himself suddenly thrown off the chair that is Corrin’s gut. His back hits the mattress. Before he can move, he feels Corrin’s pudgy fingers wrap around his wrist.

Corrin using his draconic strength, he easily overpowers Dwyer. He flips Dwyer over to face him. “I want cuddles,” Yawning once more, Corrin hugs Dwyer the best that he can. Corrin’s best involves Dwyer being buried underneath Corrin’s massive gut with Corrin lying on his side. Pulling Dwyer as close to him as possible, Dwyer gets a face-full of Corrin’s tits, practically forced to motorboat his husband’s breasts that are larger than his head.

Dwyer hears Corrin begin to snore once more before he can complain. Getting a face-full of his husband’s moobs, Dwyer feels Corrin more than he can see him. His husband’s lard is as warm as always and he can’t help but let out a yawn himself. Unable to budge, Dwyer quickly feels himself drifting off to sleep, thinking about how much nicer this would feel if Corrin were even heavier —a future he can easily create.

[copiousloverofcopia]

Here it is!!! The second to LAST chapter of the Red Dress!

I hope you like it!!! It's been a long time coming and the end is SOMETHING SO GET READY lol

The Red Dress Chapter 8: The Whore of Babylon

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven't started yet? Read from the beginning HERE.

Definitely NSFW below the cut

6 Months later

Deep beneath the halls of Basilica Papale di San Pietro sat a solemn group of men. Their scarlet-colored robes, like a sea of red along the long rectangular table. Its top, inlaid with metals of gold and silver, and adorned in jewels of diamond and ruby. Opulence at its finest, an intricate design of crossed keys and tiara–all culminating in the coats of arms of the Holy See and Vatican City.

The Cardinals of his most Holy order had assembled quietly in the dead of night. Time was of the essence and all the signs that the end of days was upon them had been rumored to have begun. They awaited their final confirmation. The solemn and sacred room, known only to the select few, was dimly lit with only a few candles and sconces. Its walls, heavy with their concerned chatter. 

Their voices hushed amongst themselves in the otherwise quiet depths of the city. Speculation and intrigue, driving them on as they anxiously awaited news. The men, both young and old, were worried beyond measure. The implications before them were not just another delicate matter to be “handled”. A scandal involving another of their brethren with his choir boy singing songs of closed doors and sodomy—no this was something that would change everything.

Suddenly the large doors of the chamber were opened and in walked a young man, escorted by another older one. The young man’s eyes had been gouged out—and recently from the smell of blood that covered his frightened face. His ragged appearance, sickly and disturbing. Even more so because it was of his own doing. The blind man shook as he walked inside, a haunting silence fell over the group as the two reached the table. The young man’s escort nudged him, informing him that they had reached their destination.

As the doors closed up behind them, and before another word was spoken, a tall and stoic man rose from the table. Adjusting the lay of his cassock as he prepared to address them. The Cardinal was in his late 60s, with stark white hair, just visible beneath his biretta. His physicality, menacing to those around him. Though even he shuddered at the sight of the young man before him—swallowing back the knot in his throat as everyone else waited for him to speak. The sounds of thunder rumbling all the way down to them from the brewing storm above. 

“Bishop Patrice, has he seen it? Has it begun?” the Cardinal asked, all eyes falling to the mysterious men. “Word has come to us from the Americas that the woman was seen with HIM in public.”

“Si, she has been found and is under his protection. I fear we are far too late.” the older man answered, once again nudging the other to speak. To their horror, the young man let out a shrieking cry. Crimson pouring once again from his eye sockets, the wounds once again fresh with the flow of blood and the scent of festering decay. 

“She carries the filth inside her womb. It has been done. We have no choice. She must be dealt with before it is allowed to be born.” he cried, tears of warm blood spilling to the ground below him. The group of men’s eyes washed over in horror as they listened on. 

“Cardinal Mariano. Where is his holy eminence? He must be notified. We are running out of time.” chimed in another man who sat at the table.

“We can handle this—” he began before another man interrupted. 

“But we need his guidance in this—” he asked just before Cardinal Mariano slammed his fist down on the table below him, pulling all mouths closed as if by attached strings, and attention back to his command. 

“His holy eminence is not well. Seems as things have progressed, his life force has weakened.”

“Perhaps God finds him worthy to escape the suffering? We don’t have the manpower to attack. Their Hell-Spawn out number our crusaders 2:1.” said another man. The room was growing with discontent. The Cardinals were weary, hearts heavy and minds agonizing over the undeniable certainty of Armageddon. Unrest—running over them like a wildfire in the brush of a forest. 

The sounds of the clergymen arguing, rivaling the thunder from above as Cardinal Mariano once again slammed his fist down. Their attention on him once more. Their eyes glowing with the hint of candlelight illuminating from his gaze.  “Gentlemen please! Bishop, how far along is the pregnancy?” he asked. 

“It’s almost time.” the young, blinded man called out, “The child is due in 4 weeks' time.” He finished as another man got up from the table only to drop to his knees in prayer. Clutching his rosary as called out for God. 

“Dio, Ti preghiamo di mostrarci misericordia mentre combattiamo contro l'impuro e l'antidivino.” 

“Oh my God what do we do? We must kill it before it draws its first breath, or it will be too late.” The older bishop replied. 

“I have a plan and here she is.” Cardinal Mariano stated, just as another knock came at the door. Two Cardinals left their seats to open it. An older, well-kept woman walked into the room. Her sudden unexpected appearance was puzzling to all, but Mariano who knew exactly the reason for her being there. She was unfamiliar to them, flaxen hair pulled up into a loose bun and a cross necklace gracing her chest, which was surrounded by redness of the skin, where it lay. “Well Lucy? Where is your daughter?”

She took a deep breath. Guilt written all over her well-groomed face as she adjusted her stance. The Versace pumps he stood in felt like she’d been walking on ice. Slick and ready to fall at any moment. Was she really going to do this for the sake of her soul—at the cost of her daughter’s? Her grandchild’s?

“I know right where we can find her.”  

She was absolutely regal. Obsidian gown, flowing out from behind her and dripping in deep red jewels. A crown of black thorns, and vertebral bone, gracing her head. She appeared every bit as majestic as they had imagined. The promised bearer of Papa’s fruit. Unholy Mother and bringer of the end of times. 

Celeste could feel it. A sense of grandeur befalling her from the moment she stepped inside the Abbey. The warmth and tingling inside her veins, swirling through her as the eyes of the Abbey, the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve, all fixed on her. Their gaze among the glow of Hell spawn orbs that shone from behind their masks. Beings she once feared, now singing her praises. All of them staring into her soul—knowing it had finally begun. 

Their queen had arrived and with her their king had returned. The Antichrist, prodigy of the Beast, home now safely with his bride. They trembled before her and Copia, falling to their knees in worship from the moment her shoe hit the marble floor. The subjects within her newfound kingdom, welcoming her and giving her a sense of home more than she’d ever known before.

Months had passed since her arrival and she had all but given way to her destiny. The signs had begun as her belly continued to swell beneath the lavish fabrics of her gowns. Reports of strange occurrences had begun all across the world. Hundreds of thousands of people, missing all at once—their clothes left on the ground where they once stood. Oceans, spilling their dead on beaches. Their sands, full of corpses of fish and marine life on display. The water of the seas boiling hot. 

Celeste knew it would be time for her and Copia to travel to Meggido. The place where she must give birth to their son. A final strike of Satan’s power in the face of God. Taking down Heaven’s stronghold—helping to at last dissolve Yahweh’s reign.

She stood on the balcony as she watched the sun begin to eclipse in the sky. The world, beginning to shroud in darkness, having no idea what horrors would await them. Copia came sauntering out towards her, hungry and ready. Celeste, still facing out at the world, did not notice until suddenly his needy hands grabbed her from behind. His Queen, jolting a bit before relaxing into his embrace. 

His hands wandered over her. Exploring her, conquering her already with the faint touch of his fingers as they traced her. Up they traveled along her thighs and over her belly until they reached the swell of her breasts. Copia, squeezing them in his hands tightly before Celeste began to whimper at his touch. “Copia, please!” she cried, turning quickly to face him. Copia catching her lips with his own. 

She could taste the wine on him. The Antichrist and his followers, rejoicing as the time of his rise grew closer and closer. Displays of gluttony and decadence that would have made the ancient Roman seem tame. While he was the embodiment of evil itself, Celeste was his only weakness and Copia was unable to control his own urges around her. Often fucking her wherever the moment took him. Proudly displaying her openly, his impending prodigy evident on her frame. So beautiful that she was to see as he took her for anyone who dared to look. 

“Amore…you smell so delicious.” Copia hummed, licking along the line of her neck. Celeste, instantly coming undone, trembling against him.  

“Will you have me now? So close to the end?” she asked, glancing down at her belly. Copia said nothing, only turning her back around to face out to the world once more. Leaning her against the rail as he gathered up her dress in his hands. The black fabric, like layers of petals as he pulled them away one by one until he reached her core. 

“I will have you every moment of every day if I could. You belong to me.” he moaned, rutting himself against her ass as he kissed her once more. Celeste smiled wide, her eyes closed as she allowed him to continue. Excited and already wet with the mere thought of him taking her. She no longer could deny that she wanted him. 

Copia dropped his hands, taking hold of his cock in his hands and stroking himself. His eyes fixed on Celeste’s aching cunt as he slid two fingers from his other hand inside it. It was so easy for him, after all it had been months since she’d worn underwear. Always needing to be ready to accept her lover’s seed whenever he wished to give it. 

“Oh fuck!” Celeste cried as his fingers teased around her entrance. Tantalizing her folds and barely entering her, just enough to taunt her with the need to be filled. 

“You love when I touch you, play you like an instrument. Spread you out with my fingers to get you ready for my cock, don't you?” he grunted before licking his lips. 

“Mmm…uh!” Celeste groaned, her eyes widening as he had stopped stroking himself long enough to grab a fist full of her hair. Pulling her head back to face him—forcing her to look him in the eye. 

“I said, don’t you?” he asked again, Celeste knew there would not be a third time. She moaned as she nodded, fucking herself on his fingers. Pushing against them until Copia mercifully let them slip all the way inside. Pressing the spot he knew would send her on edge.

“Yes Papa! Copia. I need you inside me. Fuck me…make me yourself in front of the world. Copia released her hair, Celeste arching her back to allow his fingers more access. The sounds of her wet cunt sliding over them, had proven too much for him. Copia withdrew, sucking them into his mouth and savoring the taste of her fluids mixing with the lingering wine. 

Finally, he granted her wish, rubbing the head of his cock against the swollen lips of her cunt. Both of them, becoming slack jawed as the tip slid deep inside her. Spreading her out slowly before Copia drew back only to quickly thrust inside her again. "So perfect for me. So wet for me. Your body made to pleasure mine, and mine yours." He groaned. 

Celeste couldn't speak. She was hazy with desire and lust. Gone was the girl who raged against their coupling. Now she was a mess of moaning and panting. Teary eyed as he fucked her with full fervor, so completely full of him inside. The pressure building up between them was delicious and warm. She began to tremble as he pounded away. Hearing her own heart beating fast, the sound of it drowning out the rest of the world. Suddenly it felt as if she were in a vacuum. All the air sucked out of the world and her vision—all black. 

Then it hit, images and visions rushing before her like the slides of film. Pieces and fragments familiar but still not fully realized. There was fire, the smell of smoke overwhelming her senses, making it hard to breathe. Then came the screaming—so much screaming. The intense sound of a trumpet blaring from the sky as the sun covered in blackness and the moon turned to blood. Celeste could see herself sitting upon a throne. Made of bone and thorns, the sounds of howling and screaming mixing together in a horrid song. She was covered in blood and donning the red dress from the first time she met her Prince of Hell. 

“What?” she asked aloud, coming to for only a moment before she felt Copia release deep inside her. She got quiet, saying nothing as he slipped himself out, limp and spent, from her messy cunt and rested his head upon her back. 

“Amore.” Copia called, catching Celeste’s attention back to him. He could tell she was somewhere else and there was now something else for them to deal with.  

“Yes, my–my love.” She said breathy and weak. Copia lifted up and came to stand beside her, slowly releasing the grip on the folds of fabric he once held. Taking her chin in his hand, he directed her to look out over the yard. Her gaze, creeping up the grounds. Taking in the haunting beauty of it, until her eyes met with the front gate. 

Gigantic and spellbound. It was truly a sight to behold, effective in keeping them safe inside and others out. It took her a moment before she could see a familiar figure standing just on the other side. Her heart stopped as she began to feel again the horror from her vision—unable to breathe. Copia turned her back to face him as he let out an amused chuckle. 

“Seems we have company.”

Notes:

Basilica Papale di San Pietro- St. Peter's Basilica Dio, Ti preghiamo di mostrarci misericordia mentre combattiamo contro l'impuro e l'antidivino.- God please show us mercy as we battle against the unclean and the anti-divine. Yahweh- Name for God

[10piecechickennuggy]

Magic and Secrets, Chapter 1 - Sanji x Witch!OC

WARNING: Sexual content and swearing ahead!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own One Piece or the art featured above. This is a fan-created work featuring an original character.

Violent waves battered the shoreline, sending salt spray high into the air. The sea had taken a volatile turn - a sure sign of storms to come. But for the time being, the dark clouds promising torrents of rain stayed back towards the horizon line, temporarily sparing the tiny island. 

Weary eyes watched the scene while weathered hands lazily scrubbed at a porcelain dish. Thankful for the windowpane before her, Vera allowed her mind to wander. The girl wished to be free - of her current life of servitude and of her past. She’d come a long way towards the latter, but still encountered shadows of her origins. 

Shaking the thought away, Vera turned her attention to the dish in her hand, admiring the delicate print on the fragile piece. The set had been an heirloom, passed down to her current masters over generations. Usually something so important would have been locked away, shielded from the dangers of the world. But there had been guests over this morning - the island’s mayor had paid a visit, eliciting use of the finest tableware for his tea and scones. Vera had no idea the nature of his visit, only that she now had to take great care whilst cleaning the treasured porcelain in her hands.  

“Careful there.” The deep voice of the house’s head startled the girl. He’d always made her uneasy, but she was acutely aware of being alone in the kitchen with him. A gnarled left hand rested on her shoulder whilst its matching right stretched forward into the girl’s view, grabbing the blinds and moving them to cover the window before them. 

As the fabric came to rest in its new position, Vera turned to face her master. “How may I serve you, sir?” It was the well-rehearsed way she’s been instructed to address him. The words never ceased to rise bile into the back of her throat as she spoke them, even after months of service. 

“I think you know.” The elder man smiled, a sinister air to his gaze, as the hand on her shoulder moved to the girl’s hip. The other hand came to spin her around, forcing her body to face him. She could feel his breath fan across her face, the scent of morning coffee invading her senses. “You’ve been avoiding me lately. Can’t imagine why.” The hand that had spun her then lowered, brushing her side before coming to rest on her ass.

Vera attempted to move away from him, only to shudder as his grip on her tightened. “Sir, please. I just want to do my work.” She pleaded with him, her gaze wide and fearful.

He sneered and pulled her body flush to his, causing the priceless dish to fall from her grasp. A shatter could be heard, the delicate porcelain spraying across the tiled floor. 

“Oh no.” 

The words barely escaped the man’s lips before the shrill shouts of his wife could be heard approaching the kitchen. “Stupid girl! That better not be my fine china breaking!” 

Taking advantage of the panic setting into the girl, her master leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a sloppy kiss. Vera pushed at his chest, trying to escape his grip before things went any farther.

“What are you doing?!” The mistress of the house shrieked upon entering the kitchen. She stomped forward and tore the younger girl away from her husband. “Filthy whore! Out with you!” She gripped the girl by her hair and began stomping through the house, dragging her towards the front door.

***

Laughter echoed across the lawn deck of the Thousand Sunny. Currently, the crew’s doctor - Tony Tony Chopper - its sniper - God Usopp - and its captain - Monkey D. Luffy - were engaged in a game of tag.

“Hey, Nami!” A gruff voice broke through the cheerful chatter from above. A head of green hair could be seen peeking out one of the many windows which adorned the crow’s nest. “Looks like a storm’s coming!” 

The orange-haired navigator looked up from the map she’d been studying, squinting her eyes toward the horizon. “Thanks, Zoro!!” She exclaimed, rising from her chair to take the helm, steering the ship towards a small island she knew laid not far to the north.

It didn’t take long before Sunny and her crew found themselves docked on a rocky shore. The island appeared home to a modest town. People bustled about, hurrying to finish their daily errands before the looming storm arrived. Some shops had already closed their doors, despite it only being roughly midday.

“We should find a place to stay for the night.” Nami stated, stretching her arms into the air. “Looks like that storm is going to be pretty rough.” 

“Okay!” The rambunctious captain shouted his agreement, eager to explore the island and town before him. 

Before long, the group had dispersed, excited to see what this new land had to offer. Nami sighed, exasperated at the behavior of her captain. He’d been the first to bound away, laughing as he disappeared among the villagers. 

“Well, he’s certainly eager.” A calm female voice sounded to her side. “Shall we search for lodging?” Robin, the crew’s archeologist, looked at her friend with a close-eyed smile. Nami only nodded as she began walking forward.

The last pair of feet to leave the Sunny were clad in shiny dress shoes. A puff of smoke trailed after the blonde man as he looked around, grimacing as he realized that he’d be unlikely to have enough time to shop for ingredients before the storm came. Sanji always made it a point to explore an island’s unique cuisine immediately upon visiting. As a pirate, he knew his time on each new land was limited - be it by the nature of their nomadic lifestyle or by the marines that pursued them constantly - and so he wasted little time when it came to stocking the ship with new and exciting foods. 

Sanji sighed, placing his hands in the pockets of his neatly pressed slacks, resigning to simply take a walk for the time being. With any luck, he’d have time to shop once the storm had passed. 

***

“Filthy whore! Out with you!” An angry woman’s voice broke the cook from his thoughts as he passed a house on the outskirts of the village. His head lifted just in time to see a young woman shoved out the home’s weathered wooden door, her hair a mess. An older woman, likely in her retirement years, exited shortly after the first, shoving the younger off the small porch. “I take you in and this is how I’m repaid?! With you seducing my husband?!”

The younger girl frowned, turning to face her mistress. “I did not seduce him! He ca-” The desperate defiance in her tone was silenced with a firm slap to the girl’s face.

“As if I’d believe the word of a witch like you!” The enraged woman countered, her hand raising for another hit when a firm grip halted her wrist. Her eyes came to meet with a single crystal blue orb, its twin obscured by a curtain of yellow.

“Easy there.”  As the man spoke, the scent of tobacco invaded the older woman’s senses. “What could ever provoke a beautiful woman to violence?”

Wrenching her hand away and cradling it to her chest, the woman turned up her nose to the intruder. “If you must know, I caught this witch seducing my husband. And after I had the kindness to take her off the streets!”

Saji’s cool gaze moved from the older woman to the girl she’d been speaking of. She couldn’t be much older than he was, early 20s at most. An expression of fear crossed her features as she met his eyes, holding a hand to her red cheek. If her assailant was beautiful, then the girl he looked at now was downright gorgeous. She wore a tight fitting maid’s outfit, her curves accentuated by the fabric, a small bit of cleavage visible. He sniffed, urging the blood to stay within his nose. 

Sanji knew now wasn’t the time to be admiring the girl’s appearance. He’d have plenty of time to do that once things were settled here, a plan already forming in his mind. “Is this true, miss?” He addressed the young woman with a nod, removing the cigarette from his lips and stamping it out on the ground.

“N-No!” Her voice wavered as she blurted out her answer. “I was only doing my chores when he came onto me!” 

“I don’t want to hear it, you liar!” The older woman had already turned and began ascending the steps to her home. “Now I see why no house can keep you more than a couple months! Homewrecking witch!” The door slammed, punctuating the accusatory statement. 

When the cook finally turned his gaze away from the door, he saw that the girl was already stomping her way towards town. He sprinted to catch up to her. “For the record, I believe you.” He smiled from her left, “I’m Sanji. What’s your name?”

The girl scowled at Sanji, stopping her movements and crossing her arms. “Vera.” She stated simply, gauging the stranger before her.

Sanji only smiled wider, “And you’re a maid, I take it?” Vera only nodded. “I don’t suppose you have any place to go now. Want to come with me?” He asked, offering his elbow to her.

“Why?” Vera didn’t move as her eyes lowered to the man’s elbow. 

“Well, I know it may not be your first choice, but a pirate ship is a better home than an alleyway.” 

The girl’s eyes widened, but not in panic. Her features brightened as she looped her arm with Sanji’s. “If you can get me off this island, sure.”

***

“So what was the witch thing about?” Sanji asked, taking a sip of black tea, continuing to eye the menu before him. Not long after Vera had agreed to accompany him, the transponder snail in his pocket began to ring. Nami’s voice came through the snail, informing him that she’d secured a hotel for the crew to rest in for the night. Currently, the pair sat in the hotel’s restaurant, deciding to eat before introducing Vera to the other Straw Hats.

“Because I am a witch.” Vera’s eyes didn’t leave the paper menu as she spoke matter of factly. In truth, she was terrified of what the man might think or say of her admission. More often than not, her identity was met with distrust. Couple that with her wrongful reputation for seducing men with her magic, and you had the perfect recipe for a social outcast.

What came from Sanji next came as a surprise. “What kind of magic can you do?” His expression was enthusiastic, the menu now forgotten on the table as his full attention was now directed toward his companion. 

Vera only shrugged. “Not a ton. I don’t get much time to practice since I’m usually forbidden from using it in the houses I work for.” Her face fell in a frown for a brief moment before rising again in a smile. “I can show you something if you’d like.”

Sanj only nodded enthusiastically, waiting with bated breath to see what spell the girl would perform.

Vera fidgeted slightly in her seat, suddenly nervous. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had been excited to see her magic. She was out of practice, and knew anything she could do would only serve to disappoint.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling, she lifted her right hand so her palm faced upright, her elbow bent. With closed eyes, she muttered something too soft for Sanji to hear. Suddenly, a book appeared in her open hand. The tome was thick, its pages yellowed with time and its purple cover faded. Despite its apparent age and wear, the book seemed to glow softly, air swirling around it.

Sanji’s mouth fell open in amazement. In truth, he hadn’t fully believed that Vera could be a witch. He didn’t think witches were real - just something made up for parents to scare their children into behaving. He knew about devil fruit and Haki, but not outright magic. “Wow.”

Vera blushed, about to say something to the effect of the spell being nothing impressive, when a deep cough interrupted her thoughts. A waiter stood before the pair, scowling in disapproval at the display of power before him. “Your order?” He asked, tone dismissive.

“The house special, please.” She spoke weakly, fear lacing into her words. Sanji’s order followed her but she didn’t catch what it was, only vaguely aware that he was speaking. How could she have let herself fall into such an obvious trap? She knew her magic was bad. That witches weren’t to be trusted. And yet she’d let a complete stranger talk her into using her powers openly. And in a public space, no less!

“Hey.” A soft hand came to rest on her left as the book she’d summoned disappeared, vanishing as if it had never been there to begin with. “You’re okay.” Sanji’s soothing voice cut through her darkening thoughts as if he could read her mind.

She looked up and saw that he was still smiling at her. “Most people don’t like witches.” She spoke weakly, afraid that her very breath would cause the man to blow away.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not most people.”

Read Chapter 2 Here

[dtolemy]

{ KEDAR WILLIAMS-STIRLING, 19, CIS MALE, HE/HIM } Is that DARIUS PTOLEMY? A SOPHOMORE originally from PORTSMOUTH, NEW HAMPSHIRE, they decided to come to Ogden College to study BUSINESS on a ATHLETIC SCHOLARSHIP. They’re THE HOMEGROWN HERO on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance. 

pinterest | spotify | spotify+ (warning: bubblegum pop and the gummy bear song)

WHO?

full name: darius ezekiel ptolemy

birthday: october 25, 2003

pronouns: he/him

personality: exuberant. galvanizing. insatiable, imprudent, impetuous. insert other sat words he uses incorrectly to sound intelligent, which he is capable of being strictly in the contexts of sports and the pizza prices of every take-out place in a statewide vicinity. where he remains oblivious to his faults, darius thrives, and where he is forced to confront them, darius falters, snaps back with something stolen from the climax of an academy award loser, and goes back to thriving. he’s a personality, a figurehead, a trophy that needs to win itself more trophies. he thinks of getting people to like him, love him, hate him, focus on him, in any way, to be just as important as getting good grades. despite this, he’s anything but a hard partier, and claims designated driver like it’s his eternal duty. no better way to make people fall for you than by being a goody-two-shoes, right?

appearance: darius’s wardrobe is a miscellany of colors, thrown over a toned body with a meticulous dishevelment that takes more time in the morning than his three showers. his stature is asserted to be 6’0 but more accurately 5’10 with the help of high top sneakers, while its presence is mostly felt in him darting about campus with an agility only achievable through years of training and an abject inability to read maps properly.

WHAT?

sports & extracurriculars: tennis, diving & swimming, table tennis

tropes: homegrown hero. if anything’s to thank for his rise to the top and unaccountable social claustrophobia, it’s the prestigious town of portsmouth, new hampshire. | small name, big ego. but also, his success is sort of totally, entirely his doing. even if said success isn't quite that recognized outside of the country. | mr. vice guy. pride, lust, relating to holden caulfield, etc. he didn’t pay much attention in sunday school, honestly. | | attention whore. no point in doing anything if nobody’s around to post a fancam of it. | the nicknamer. because having a coherent contacts list is for losers.

relationship to greer: greer’s recruit.

Maybe it was because he was playing with some of the finest New Hampshire had to offer, or maybe it was because his attention was thoroughly divided between warming up and making the varsity team warm up to him, but Darius put more effort than ever into preparing himself for the life of an Ogden student. Specifically, the life of an Ogden student in Greer’s inner circle. He sought her time with a dogged determination that could only be dampened by explicit refusal, analyzing every letter of her posts (which were probably drafted by a PR team with more experience than a lifetime in the industry could merit, but a man could dream, and dream he did) as well as reading Cosmopolitan magazines behind his textbooks. Thus, freshman year was filled with professional, totally subtle butt-kissing and a whole lot of scampering around campus to spend his old rackets’ insurance on… whatever it was that Greer liked, anyways. He knew he wanted, needed, to become like her other friends, a shiny thing out of reach from anyone below their level, but how?

hobbies: cycling, yoga, taking selfies at inappropriate times

inspirations: randall “pink” floyd (dazed and confused), jeff sadecki (yellowjackets), mike jackson (the psmith novels), emily cooper (emily in paris, i promise i can explain)

WHY?

tl;dr: ambitious, discontent, and brilliant at acting like he’s neither of those, darius was born to the most mind-bogglingly middling family ever to throw their name in the genetic lottery in the most average neighborhood to have ever been built. his father an electrician and amateur pastor, his mother an insurance agent, and his grandmother a dispenser of morally dubious advice from her rocking chair, he took the burden of being an interesting person onto himself at a young age, idolizing the grand slam GOATs of television and desperate to become one of them. he and his coaches molded him into the underdog of his hometown’s dreams, but now that he’s been thrust into a world where people actually go places for vacation and expect better than the best of him, he doubts he can keep up without some elbow grease.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION…

connections: tba! aside from the suggested connections for the skeleton, however:

platonic. sports buddies, role models, study groups, fitness friends, ride or dies with a probable emphasis on dies

antagonistic. rivals on the court, mutual jealousy, academic opposition, bad influences, competitors in popularity

romantic. fleeting flirtationships, unrequited crushes, awkward dating app matches, friends with benefits, enemies with benefits

plot summaries: tba!

thread tracker: tba!

headcanons: 

hates table tennis and sucks at it big time but continues playing under the incorrect pretense that he will improve. either misses the ball entirely or hits it with so much force that whichever surface the poor thing lands on will be permanently scarred.

most active social media is linkedin. he is aware that this is humiliating but mentally maintains that he will be nothing without an internship to one of the many, many insurance companies whose employees he texts night and day.

favorites:

books. adventures of huckleberry finn by mark twain, losers take all by david klass, a separate peace by john knowles, winning ugly by brad gilbert, looking for alaska by john green

movies. fast times at ridgemont high, napoleon dynamite, sunday school musical, big time adolescence, teenage mutant ninja turtles (1990)

music. lecrae, nirvana, daft punk, weathers, sue sylvester’s super bass cover

[our-not-so-secret-lives]

Insensitive. Malicious. Soul.

Incredibly, you’re evil has depths unknown to I. Siphoning spirit silently, sanctioned scandalous

accusations, actions unbeknownst, for drama. Bigotry at its finest. Misery is all you absorb. Enamored with power you claim I’m a “whore.” Liars are just, my confidence judged, so awful.

Lucrative goals for a lost soul guided by a devil. Enchanted by my past, all you can do is crave.

Saved, a soul like yours can’t be, one expels another for a defaming, tumultuous agenda. An attention whore seeks affirmation by mania. Dark comes to light. Night can’t hide your id.

you will pay for what you did.

[saniika]

As promised before this is a drama-free blog. Please do not read further, this is a personal announcement which is very much in the drama category. There will be no filter and lots of swear words. 

TLDR: I am not well, will be not active as usual and don’t know when Ill be back. Bunch of stuff is gone, it’s not just you imagining things. I wrote all this since I gotten asks which I hid away from.

I am not ok. For about a year I've gotten under lot of pressure, both mental and physical. Shortly before that I closed  very traumatic period in my life and even went of antidepressant. And then bam, the above happened, yoi came in the mix. Wow! Fantastic a coping mechanism, works so well. I am happy. Friends message me genuinely excited to see me happy. I listen to music, read, draw and it shows its full of love. A sanii-wonderland.

But... nothing lasts forever, right?

I entered this exhausted and rushed like a hound dog. I wanted validation, to matter and make some good for the world (I cant sadly cure ass politics, world hunger or happiness for LGBT...yeah.) So Ive set to put my services into promoting writers with fanarts to their fanfics - because hey they made me happy, what other way to show thanks? Drawing fanarts just to join the happy in the community. Talk in streams. And Im telling you the insomnia rushes where the brain was like squirrel on caffeine - those are really damn productive periods. With horrible consequences.

Months went by, sometimes I didnt feel good, panic attacks started to be present, nightmare drove me to the point of waking up in fright (I got scared I fell asleep). Other health related issues arose...twirling down the ground as they say.

I met some really nice people which I will not mentioned here as I dont want to pull them into my drama post (even if id say thanks), participated on incredible project. The more I got involved into the fandom and socials it got faster and before I knew it - I felt like im stuck on a rollercoaster, about to puke and the fucking ride doesn't stop.

Thoughts like these arose - I’m too old, I’m not fast enough, cant keep up this speed, why does this person has so much success, has so many friends etc. Bad bad toxic feelings - which I am happy I did not act upon, no one deserved these and it was all in me. Friends helped here since I admitted these to them and was quite surprised to hear many felt similar - burnout from the fandom, apps in general, life in the whole mix.

I thouhgt itll pass, focused on the writing which made me really excited and productive. I drew my whole life, its the best I can do - the other thing I can do best is - hating myself. So believe it or not that actually helped with yakov flamers - no one can hate myself more than me. Im a medalist at that. Back back to the track.

Physically speaking I sought out doctors and they didnt help me as I expected they would. I have to write and type a lot in IRL job and my chronic pain in hand turned into vicious icepick stabing pain in collarbone + completely sore numb right upper torso. It took me a week to be able to type on a phone without vincing.

And few days ago - I actually cant tell what day it was because I spend the whole weekend in bed and ate once. Never had such episode, so that was really... not fun - I had a meltdown and deleted bunch of things. So if you cant find them - they are not there. You will see my art rebloged here and there, but the original posts are gone. With each delete I felt lighter and had a good cry too.

It all came down to this - I felt cheap, taken for granted and all the initial thoughts of happy turned into realisation (with the help of friends) that I do expect things in return. Im not the type to play an attention whore and avoid posting complaints as pest. Yet here I am. Because -

Bit by bit I neglected breaks for bathroom for drawing. Didnt rest the hand when I was supposed to. Wrote feedback or comments for others when I was tired. Offered support on drunk/depressive/suicidal posts and offered support in chat even though I should have invested into selfcare. And it all snowballed to this - loosing love towards certain pairings, drawing itself. Aaaaand posting 2 pics after such a break brought me to breathing labored and wow, suddenly I am here - BAM - very not ok.

I left a bunch of places, set up things so that I speak with bare minimum of people. I have no idea what Ill do from now on, but I know its easier to just watch others and consume - or maybe even easier to watch as little as possible (let me be frank, I really don’t care who sticks a dick to whom’s ass - petty discourse about pairings and topping really sour me and - EAT VICTORS DICK, CHOKE ON IT - became my private favorite curse. Don’t get me started on self entitled critics on whats right to draw, write and ship.... FUCKING WILL YA - just do your thing, have fun, SHUT UP - make stuff that makes you happy if you don’t see it around or PAY others to do it. OR like support them, be NICE. Doesn’t hurt...promise.)

I flipped the switch, lost it grand and that’s it. I wont be putting restrictions on myself here saying I wont draw ever or this fandom - that’s not how it works. But right now? Ill be happy if I manage to deliver work on a project I don’t want to fall out of. I tried the appeal of sharing work privately to friends or to no one at all. Engaging on discords and DMs - so freeing to talk about stories and stuff without tumblr police. I just cant do this anymore - posting out there steals my breath and it fucking hurts.

I hope you enjoyed all I did, it all came from heart - that’s all. I know Ill sweat all nervous posting this, but YAKOV COURAGE WOLF tells me so. Better than listening to voices telling me to go shit at Wendy's bar.

Thanks for everything.

[tomhardyspinkyfinger]

Moving in

Masterlist

Summary: Alfie moves Y/N into his house after her safety is questioned.

Word count: 2660

Warnings: Language, angst, violence, minor mentions of r!pe,

A/N: hope you guys enjoy the third part in this series! Thanks for reading and showing love <3

Part 1 Part 2

Some peeps i forgot to tag: @hecatemoon87 @solomons-finest-rum @tomhardysforeheadlines @darklydeliciousdesires

- Y/N got ready for bed, grinning from ear to ear the whole time. After completing her night routine she laid in bed with joy overflowing from her heart.

Her inconceivable happiness was disturbed a few hours into her restful sleep when she heard the unmistakable sound of a window being broken into downstairs. -

I awoke suddenly to the sound of glass breaking in the den. I could hear muffled voices of men working their way up the stairs. I thanked my lucky stars that Mauve wasn't home before jumping out of bed and running to the bedroom door, locking it. I rushed to the other side of the room where the phone sat on my vanity. I dialed Alfie's number, not knowing who else to call.

After a few rings and my desperate plea's to pick up, his voice filtered through the other end.

"Who in gods name is calling at this hou-"

"Alfie, Alfie it's me its Y/N, there are men in my house they broke in. I-I don't know what to do." I spoke as quietly as possible, my voice cracking as I pushed back tears.

"Right, stay where you are I'm on my way." He spoke. The door handle started shaking from across the room.

"Open up Miss Y/L/N!" The man called from outside of the door. This wasn't just a robbery, this man knew me by name. I heard the voices of two men again quietly conversing before the banging began, they were beginning to break into the room.

"Alife, they're breaking down the door I don't know what to do." I spoke, tears now flowing freely.

"I need you to hide in your closet love, don't make a sound I'm leaving now." Alfie said, his voice reassuring me. We disconnected the call and I rushed into the closet, the door shutting behind me. There wasn't a lot of room for me to hide, so I crouched on the ground, hoping the darkness of the room would contain my position.

The door finally gave away and I listened to both pairs of footsteps make their way into the room.

"We heard you talking bambina, we know you're in here." The man spoke, his accent now clear to me.

Italians.

I knew Alfie met with them on a few occasions but he always kept me out of the illegal business and meetings. I held my breath and eyed the shadow of two feet under the closet door. The door swung open and I was pulled out of the closet by my hair.

"There you are!" The man exclaimed, yanking me to my feet. I moaned out in pain as he forced me to look at him.

"This is the whore Solomons has become enticed with? We kept our eyes on you being his secretary and all, but now that he has gone the lengths of courting you, we can send him a message." I look towards the other man, pleading him with my eyes to make this stop. He simply looked away and my attention was pulled back to the man holding me, who raised his hand and backhanded me with heavy force.

I landed on the ground with a thud and was quickly dragged back into my standing position. In the tussle of my fall my robe fell open a bit, my bra showing.

"I see why the Jew has taken a liking." The man made a sickening smirk, moving his vile hands up my hips close to my breasts, but not touching them. I held my breath as he turned me around and threw me to the bed.

"Here's what's going to happen, we are both going to use you like the whore you are and then you will run to your little Jew and tell him all about it." The man said, approaching the bed. I swallowed my fear and glared, spitting in his face as he got closer.

Another swift slap to the face, this one breaking the skin of my lip was what I received.

"You stupid whore." The man growled. Before he could hit me again or do anything else, the other man who had remained otherwise silent spoke up.

"Anthony, we've got a problem." The man said, looking out the window. I glanced in his direction and saw the unmistakable lights from a car shining through the curtains.

"Speaking of Mr. Solomons." I said, forcing a smile. The man now known as Anthony clenched his jaw releasing me and motioning for his friend to follow.

"Out the back, now." The men were gone as quickly as they came and I let out a breath of relief, tightening my robe and wiping my tears that kept flowing. A few moments later Alfie rushed in, hair disarray and clothes half buttoned. I rushed off the bed and into his arms, letting out a choked sob I had been holding back.

"It's alright love, I'm 'ere now." He spoke gently, smoothing my hair with his hand while I sobbed. We stayed like that for a while before I pulled away quickly, panic taking over my body.

"A-alfie what about Mauve, she's sleeping at her friend's house down the street. What if they go after her?" I questioned, my breathing growing heavy. Alfie brought me over to the bed and sat me down, pushing my hair behind my ears and wiping my tears.

"They won't do that. Those fuckin' wops got their message across by hurting you. 'Ere's what were gonna do right, you're going to sit there while I pack a bag for you an' Mauve an' then you both are going to stay with me. We will pick 'er up together in the morning." Alfie assured, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over my cheeks gently. I nodded and he began to throw some things in a bag. I knew I'd have to come back and repack eventually, I hid my smile as Alfie shoved an old ball gown into a bag.

After he gathered what he found suitable for Mauve and I, we were on our way to his home. I was wearing Alfie's trench, pulled closed to cover me completely. It was perfect, like wearing a blanket that smelled like him. When we arrived Alfie carried my bags in, muttering to someone or something.

"Mate, calm down, don't go frightenin' er'" I entered behind Alfie and was greeted by a giant slobbering dog. I kneeled down to scratch behind his ears and smiled at his wagging tail.

"You must be Cyril huh?" I asked, his ears perking up. He leaned forward and covered my face with slobber, giving me what I assume he thinks is a kiss. Alfie grabbed him by his collar and shooed him away, cursing him for slobbering. I stood and examined my surroundings, it was dark and homey.

"It ain't much but this is my home, the guest room is this way." Alfie spoke, I followed him up the stairs and into a quaint but comfortable room with a big bed and a roaring fire place. I noticed the tub of water in front of the fireplace and smiled.

"I 'ad my maid draw you a bath before I left." He said, scratching his face. I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around him again.

"Thank you, Alfie." I muttered.

"This wouldn't 'ave happened if it weren't for me, and for that I am truly sorry." Guilt laced his voice and I took a step back, looking up at him.

"I knew who I signed on to work for when I was hired last year, these threats were as present then as they are now. Don't blame yourself for this." Alfie raised his hand and gently placed his finger to the corner of my mouth where the blood from earlier had now dried. I flinched at the pain and his hand dropped.

"Don't let the bath get cold, I'm across the hall if you need me, shout." He said, leaving the room and shutting the door.

-

It had been a few weeks of Mauve and I staying with Alfie. We would drop Mauve at school in the morning together and go to work together, and yet Alfie and I seemed distant.

I didn't know how to bring it up, I didn't even know if we were still.. dating, if you could call it that. He was an absolute dream with Mauve, she admired him and he her. We continued working together like nothing has changed, but that was a mutual agreement between us.

I expressed that I didn't want anyone in the bakery knowing about us because I didn't want them thinking I was getting special privileges. Alfie agreed, he said it made sense to keep us living together discrete, as to not draw unwanted attention from any more of his enemies.

I didn't know this discretion would apply to us directly. I had a plan and was determined to set it into motion. After laying Mauve to bed for the night in another beautiful guest room she was occupying, I retired to my room.

I poured myself a hefty glass of rum and downed it in one go, hoping the drink would take my edge off. I changed into a lingerie set I had bought recently, admiring myself in the mirror and groaning.

This is an awful idea

I poured myself another hefty glassed and downed that one the same, the warmth now starting to fill my body. Alfie was still at the bakery tying up some unfinished business but he told me he'd be home around this time. I grabbed my robe and secured it before grabbing the bottle of rum and tiptoeing to Alfie's room. On the way, I checked in on Mauve, where she was out like a light exactly how I expected.

Cyril's head popped up from where he lay beside her, but he laid back down when he was sure it was just me. That dog had become enamored with Mauve, and she loved him more than anything. I smiled at the pair and shut the door, making my way to Alfie's room.

I untied my robe and laid it over his chair, examining myself in his mirror again before rubbing my face. This is madness. A third cup should help waver this anxiety.

The third cup led to four, and then I realized I was a bit knackered.

I need to leave this room, I'm tipsy! This is not sexy and it was an awful plan to begin with!

I rushed to his door quickly but halted in my steps as I heard Alfie's footsteps in the hallway.

Pull back! Pull back! Mission failed!

I snagged my robe off of the chair and tied it around myself just in time for the door to open. Alfie stood, not expecting me to be standing in his room in my short, silky robe.

"What're you doing in 'ere?" He questioned, taking his hat off and placing it on his dresser. I looked around for an excuse and saw his shoes by the foot of the bed. I grabbed them quickly and straightened back up.

"Cleaning."

"Cleaning?" I nodded.

"I figured I would tidy up your room for you since you've been doing so much for me, is all." I said, proud of my ability to lie so quickly.

"You're 'tidying' up at 10pm?" He said, scratching his beard and looking at me in suspicion. I nodded and he glanced behind me, pointing to the bottle of rum I left on his desk.

"An' that? That help the tidyin'?" I sighed and dropped the shoes, letting my shoulders sag.

"I came in here.. to talk .. about why you've been so distant. I thought our date was nice, well until I was attacked but everything before that!" I spoke, exasperated.

"You was the one who said we should end this." Alfie said, slightly irritated.

"When?! When did I say that?! You daft man! I would never have said that! For Christ sakes I came in here to fuck you!" The words fell out of my mouth like vomit. No more rum for me. I slapped a hand over my mouth and sighed.

"Let me get this, right, you came in 'ere to fuck me? After you ended things?" He questioned.

"Why do you keep saying that! I never ended things." I groaned, rubbing my temple. This awful exchange was sobering me up, the effects of the rum going from fun to foul.

"You said just the other week we should take a break with each other, you said it right to me in my office." Alfie said his eyes widening the way they did when he was angry.

"I said we should take it easy with one another at work!" I huffed out. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, missing the feeling of him against me. His arms wrapped around my waist.

"I wasn't ending anything, I really like you and want to be with you, Alf." I spoke, leaning up and pressing my lips to his. He reciprocated quickly and grabbed me tighter.

Alfie pushed my robe down my shoulders, pulling away to look down at my body. I instinctively covered my insecurities but he removed my hands.

"You're so fuckin' fit, love." He said before kissing me again. He hoisted me up into his arms without breaking the kiss. He moved us to the bed and tossed me down, I bounced a few times before my eyes widened. I rushed off the bed and into the bathroom, spilling my guts into the toilet. Alfie followed me in and rubbed my back, pulling my hair back with his other hand.

"I didn't think kissin' me was that repulsive." I could hear his smug smile through his words. I sniffled a bit.

"Why are you cryin, love?" He questioned. I looked up at him and wiped my tears.

"This is embarrassing." I muttered, wiping the vomit off my lips with my other hand. He smiled and filled me a cup of water from the sink, handing it to me.

"It's actually rather fitting if you think about it, our first date had you covered in oysters and now the first time we try to fuck you vomit everywhere." Alfie said with a shrug. I let out a giggle and sipped my water.

After getting myself cleaned up and changed into proper pajamas Alfie tugged me into bed with him.

"You need a proper cuddle, love. Our first time will be much better than a rum filled romp, I promise." Alfie said, pulling me into his arms.

-

I awoke to muffled voices talking. I kept my eyes closed when I identified the voices.

"Did mummy have a nightmare? Is that why she slept here? When I have nightmares she lets me sleep with her." Mauve spoke.

"Yeah, your mum was a bit frightened sleeping in that big room all alone, so I let her stay 'ere." Alfie responded.

"Oh. I don't really get frightened here, Cyril keeps me safe!" Mauve exclaimed.

"Cyril is good at that, innit he?" Alfie questioned. I peaked open one eye to see Mauve leaning against Alfie's chest as Alfie lay against the headboard. Cyril was there as well, laying on Alfie's legs. Both of them had managed to trap Alfie to the bed. I cracked a smile.

"Mummy, I see you smiling, you can't pretend to be asleep!" Mauve called out. I opened both eyes and reached out to stroke her cheek gently.

"Good morning, my love. What are you doing up this early?" I questioned.

"Alfie promised me yesterday he would make special pancakes for me! And Cyril and I are hungry." Mauve whined. Alfie shook Cyril up and off his legs and left the bed, holding Mauve in his arms.

"Right, to the kitchen we go then, I need a helping hand." Mauve cheered at Alfie's words and they were off downstairs after Alfie bent down to my laying form and pressed a kiss to my lips, then turning and let Mauve kiss my forehead.

I lay there with a broad grin and let out a sigh.

I think I love Alfie Solomons.

[marvel-trash-bin]

Taking Risks.

(Not my Gif.)

Summary: Zemo gives you what he thinks you deserve. *Some TFATWS Ep. 3 Spoilers.*

Pairing: Zemo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Smut for days baby. Dirty Talking, Possession, marking, Soft!Dom Zemo. 18+ Only.

Word Count: 4.2K

Tags: @greeneyedblondie44

A/N: Look we all know we're walking dangerous territory, simping for a war criminal. But Sugar Daddy Zemo got me feeling some type of way and also, Daniel Brüle is hot asf. Also, I don't actually know german so pls if it's off just blame google translate, I just have an insatiable language kink and I needed the pet names more than air itself. I thought about making this a chaptered fic, but I barely had the time to write this, never mind chapters of it before he likely fucks over Sam and Bucky next episode. Anyways, enjoy!

Here’s the thing.

You knew he was dangerous. You knew his past, the EKO Scorpion kill squad and everything with the Avengers, manipulating them and breaking them up from the inside. He was smart, unpredictable. You knew there was a very real potential that you could be hurt - or worse - if you went down the road.

And maybe, in a past life that would’ve been enough to stop you. But you weren’t who you used to be. You liked playing with fire now, inviting danger and chaos rather than straying from it. You had lived in - hid in, was more accurate - Madripoor for a handful of years now. You laid low, kept yourself under the radar of the Power Broker and those who worked for him. This way, no one bothered you and you could live fragments of a normal life, Trading and bartering to make a living. But living this way, like forgotten trash on a sidewalk, got old.

Maybe that’s why when you caught his attention, you didn’t shy away from it.

It had happened so fast. You were dancing, just intoxicated enough that the rubbing of strangers' bodies against yours was not just welcomed, but encouraged. So encouraged that when a new body, tall and firm behind you, took the place of another, you didn’t hesitate to back up into the warmth. His hands gripped your hips tightly, not stopping or guiding you, just resting. Turning your head slightly to see what your new dance partner looked like, you startled a little seeing the Baron.

Helmut chuckled, a low sound you felt rather than heard, and ducked his head down to speak into your ear, “You know who I am.”

You let your body relax back into his, feeling reckless enough to bless the menacing man with your flirtations, your head falling back onto his, “I’ve heard a thing or two.”

“And yet you trust me to hold you like this,” his hands flex on your hips, just hard enough to show the strength they hold, “Like a lover.”

You grab one of his hands, leading it down to your upper thigh where your knife holster sits, never once letting his hand leave your body.

“If I didn’t want you touching me, you’d know it, Baron.”

The gust of breath you felt against the side of your neck and the large hand gripping your thigh had shivers rolling pleasantly down your spine.

“You are far too beautiful to reside in these undergrounds,” he spun you around in his grasp, allowing you to get a good look at his face, “A woman like yourself should be treated with the most expensive riches, the finest wines. She should drain a man of his earnings.”

You laughed, not expecting the words that came from his mouth nor how handsome he was, even this close, “Point me to the man who’s willing.”

He smirked at you, but there was a smugness to it. A glimmer in his eye that suggested he had the riches and the desire to give you anything you wanted. You felt like you were drowning in his gaze, lost as you were under the heat of it. He looked somewhere behind you, pulling his eyes from you to nod once at whatever, or whoever, had stolen his attention from you. When they returned to you, the heat and desire were replaced with determination.

“It is with great regret that I must leave you, for now,” He captured your hand, bringing it up to his lips, the softness of them brushing lightly against your knuckles, “I can get you out of Madripoor, give you a life you deserve. If you meet me tomorrow morning, the airstrip.”

The world felt like it froze around you. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you. You couldn’t trust him. You Shouldn’t trust him. But as you stared into his eyes you saw nothing but honesty.

“And if I don’t?” You ask, just to buy yourself some time.

His hand travels up your arm, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger securely, “I will not pressure you. I’d leave you be, but the ghost of you would haunt me, schatzi.”

And with that, he was gone. Leaving you with nothing more than your thoughts, mentally preparing how quickly you could pack your things and leaving Madripoor behind. After all, you’ve always loved taking risks.

~

The next few weeks were a blur. Zemo was laying low, but his form of laying low was still luxury to you. It was private jets and upscale accommodations, not to mention that he was a man of his word. He spoiled you. Within three days of being in his presence, you had acquired a whole new wardrobe. Your suitcases - also new - were filled to the brim with the fanciest and latest fashion. You had rare jewels on nearly every piece of jewelry you owned. Maybe spoiled was an understatement. You’ve only dreamed of owning riches like these.

He had picked something particular for you to wear tonight, both of you making an appearance at some sort of party with some higher-ups. It was all laid out on the king-sized bed, a little black dress of sorts. It was short and sheer in its long sleeves, the sparkles in the fabric ensured that you would shimmer under any lighting. With a simple clutch, matching jewelry and a cropped, white fur jacket to keep you warm until you got to your destination. You looked good. You felt good.

He looked just as good. Sporting an outfit similar to the one you had met him in, instead choosing a dark red turtleneck to create a stunning relation between both your outfits. Nothing had happened between the two of you yet. Aside from lingering glances and innocent touches, he had been a gentleman. The chemistry was there, for sure. You were able to joke and talk with the man, matching his wit and charm every step of the way. And he loved it.

“Best behaviour tonight, schatzi.” He had said, low in your ear as you walked towards the venue.

You had smiled back at him, the perfect picture of innocence, “Always, Baron.”

And at the time, you had fully meant it. But you found yourself craving him. He looked too good, it honestly wasn’t fair. The way that ridiculous fur jacket draped over his shoulders, fostering a powerful ambience. And you knew he was faring no better himself if by the way his eyes were glued to your curves was anything to go by.

So, you decided, maybe you shouldn’t be on your best behaviour tonight. It’s not like you were making a scene or anything that would call too much attention. You were simply letting the alcohol take over your body. Whether that meant a hand on his thigh as you listened to the conversations around you, your fingers playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck or dancing a little too scandalously when you knew he was watching. You felt confident. And when you felt confident, you felt dangerous.

By the end of the night, you were teasing yourself just as much as you were him. You were pushing your luck, hands trailing a little too close to the bulge in his slacks, enjoying the way his facial features changed briefly in shock before settling back into that infuriating unmovable stoic impression. The last straw was you bending in front of him, having ‘dropped’ something from your purse. You only had to bend so much before the dress, as short as it was, had ridden up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your panties.

In an instant, he had you standing upright, thanking whoever he had been talking to for a wonderful night, tugging your dress back down to a respectable length and steering you towards the door by the back of your neck.

“That was not best behaviour,” he growled into your ear.

You giggled, despite the tight grip on your neck, “I was just having fun.”

He had done nothing but stare at you, eyes hard with a warning that had you rethinking your actions. You had forgotten, for a moment, that this man was not just someone to give you all the pretty trinkets you wore. He was a mastermind, a criminal mastermind at that. A man most deemed dangerous enough to be locked away.

“You have been bad tonight, kleine Schlampe.” He said once he had gotten you back to his car, away from the prying eyes and ears of the party guests, “You will spend the trip back thinking of ways to make it up to me.”

The words sent heat through your core, and you did exactly as he said.

~

By the time he had gotten you up to your accommodations, you had thought of thousands of different scenarios that could earn you forgiveness for your recklessness. You were uncertain if his words earlier had implied sexual favours, or if a simple, genuine apology was all he was looking for. However, once he had turned to you, the room door closing behind him and his eyebrows raised expectantly, you fell to your knees in front of him like it was second nature.

He chuckles darkly at you as he peels his gloves off, tossing them gently onto a side table nearby before letting one hand brush away the hair that had fallen in your face.

“Seems you are meine kleine schlampe indeed,” You had no idea what it meant, but fuck it sounded good coming from him. His eyes were hard and dark as he stared down at you, “If this is the path you’ve chosen to apologize, so be it. But not here, you are meine schlampe not a common whore. Get up. Go to the bedroom.”

You did as he said, quickly pulling yourself up to a standing position and walking to the designated room. The bed, so far, had only been used by you. He hadn’t wanted to push or pressure you into sharing a space with him. He understood that just because you decided to join him, didn’t mean you wanted to be with him. But tonight, you had decided, you wanted to give him your everything. You wanted to show him how grateful you were for all the gifts he’d given you so far. And if you couldn’t give him luxuries, you would give him your desire.

“So,” he began, nodding in approval at the way you resume your position on the floor in front of him, “Let’s begin with the basics.” As he talked, he rolled up his sleeves, doing so with precision, “Tell me, what exactly are you apologizing for?”

He commands every drop of your attention. There’s an aura to him that you had only previously caught a glimpse of. His eyes dark and locked onto yours, never once wavering. Waiting. Calculating.

“For teasing you.”

“And?”

You take a breath, shame flooding your core at the answer that sits on your tongue.

“For embarrassing you.”

There’s a pause. He cocks his head, gaze softening just a tad. He's quiet for several moments, analyzing your words. Your heart starts to beat a little faster at the extended silence, thinking you’ve done something wrong and you can’t keep up the eye contact. You duck your head, averting your gaze to his feet.

“Look at me, schatzi.” His voice is soft, but still with enough edge to make you listen.

Only once your eyes meet his again does he continue.

“That’s very sweet of you, to be concerned about my image. But make no mistake,” He steps closer to you, letting one hand cup your jaw, tilting it upwards. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, “You could never embarrass me,”

You dip your head, nipping softly at his thumb. He smiles softly at you, something glimmering in his eye, “I simply just don’t like to share what’s mine.”

Your breath leaves your body at his words and suddenly the need for him to claim you had you nearly vibrating in your skin. You watch, every muscle in your body clenched tightly, as he walks slowly over to the armchair in the corner, never once taking his eyes off you. He sits, legs parted, one arm draped off the side, the other rested so he could prop his head up.

“Proceed.”

Instantly, you make your way over to him. Once in front of him, you stand up on your knees, placing your hands on his knees and slowly sliding them up his thighs. They continue its upward motion, skimming lighting over the hardness in his pants and reaching to start on his belt. You make quick work of his belt and buttons, eagerly working his pants and briefs down. He chuckles above you.

“Mein Schatz, so eager to apologize.” He purrs, almost mockingly, hand coming down to brush the fallen hair away from your face.

Once you had him free, you took a second to admire him. Your legs clenched at the size of him. Not terribly big, but big enough to anticipate the stretch, the fullness. Your eyes flicked back up, looking up at his through your lashes, leaning in but stopping just before you could actually get your mouth on him. The hand that was previously fixing your hair was now clenched in it, messing it up again and forcing your head back suddenly to look at him properly.

“It would not be wise to tease me more than you have,” he warned.

A smirk spread across your features and you quickly realized how much you liked him like this.

Powerful.

Strict.

However, you knew you were on thin ice already. With that in mind, as soon as his grip loosened you licked a wide stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him fully into your mouth. The tension his body held melted the second your tongue touched him. His mouth dropping on a soft groan. His hand stroked your hair as you sucked, encouraging the bobs of your head, not forcing but guiding. You keep your eyes trained on his face, not wanting to miss a second of experiencing him like this.

He glows in the low lamplight of the room, the shadows playing across his features delicately. You like him like this too. Reduced to a heap of gasps and moans beneath the heat of your mouth. As you suck, your hands wander, up under the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging down his sides. He hisses at the pain, but doesn’t tell you to stop.

After a few minutes of your slow torture, he decides he’s had enough. His hand tightens in your hair, his movements becoming less gentle and more demanding.

“That’s a good girl, take it all for me.”

You do as he asks, taking a breath before taking him as deep as you can. He groans at the feeling, hips shifting a few times to test you before beginning to thrust in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches, but his eyes are on you and his thumb is tracing your bottom lip that’s stretched wide around his cock and you think for a second that you could spend eternity like this.

It’s not much longer before he pulls you off his cock, hand wrapping around his base tightly, “Apologies, schatzi. I am out of practice, and I fear I'm not quite finished with you yet.”

You laugh softly, voice rough due to your previous activity, “That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You insist, more than happy to let him finish like this. Whatever he wants.

He stops you before you can dip down again, standing up and taking you with him. For the first time, his lips are on yours. He overwhelms all your senses. His breath loud in your ears, his hands on your waist, his scent. His tongue slides against yours as he walks you forward, shedding his lower clothing as he goes. He only parts to give you an order.

“Turn around.”

As you do, he finishes undressing and it kills you that can’t see him. Just as quickly as the thought crosses your mind, it’s gone as you feel his hands at the top of your dress. He slides the zipper down, letting the fabric fall off your shoulders. You take the liberty of helping the sleeves the rest of the way down, the fabric falling down around your heels once you’ve done so. He hums behind you.

“Such beauty,” he whispers against your shoulder. His hands begin to wander, around your waist, up underneath the fabric of your bra, down to your thighs and ass. He chuckles, dragging your panties down enough that they too fall, forgotten at your feet, “I can hardly stay mad at you, liebling.”

Your head falls back onto his shoulders as he works your bra off next. You shiver, feeling bare and exposed before him. You want him more than you can express and you let your whole body fall back into his embrace, whimpering at the feeling of him, hard against the swell of your ass.

“Helmut,” you moan, one of your hands finding purchase in his hair as the other rests on one of his forearms.

“Tell me you’re mine, Schatzi. And I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I’m yours,” you say without hesitation, breathless as his hand dips between your legs, finding your clit. He hums, pleased at the arousal he finds there, “I’m yours. Only yours.”

He growls pulling his hand away from, “Lay back on the bed. I’ll be right back.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed. While you wait, you let your mind wander, listening to his rummaging somewhere in another room while your mind runs through everything you want him to do to you. At some point, your eyes must close because when you feel the bed dip, they open to see him crawling between your legs.

He’s done messing around, wasting no time before his face is buried between your thighs, hands maneuvering your legs so that they’re thrown over his shoulders, your heels crossing sweetly behind his head, no doubt scratching at his shoulders. Your breath leaves your body at the feeling of his tongue, warm and wet and fan-fucking-tastic. He alternates between dipping it in and out of your heat and flicking it against your clit. Your hand finds his hair, gripping it between your fingers and guiding his movements ever so slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours, spare for the few times he closes them to moan against you.

One of his hands move, leaving its place at your hip to sink two fingers into you. Your head falls back on a moan, back arching up when he crooks his fingers and finds your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand gripping the pillow behind your head as you feel your orgasm rush towards you, “Fuck- Wait, I-”

You can’t even feel embarrassed about how easily your body has reacted to him. Before you can warn him much more, you're falling over the edge. Your thighs tensing around his head, back arching in pleasure as you ride out your high. In this moment you belong completely to him, unable to think of anything else.

“So sweet for me, liebling.” He comments, hands rubbing up and down your calves as you come down, taking a moment to unfasten your heels, letting the shoes drop to the floor before leaning back in. His lips brush against your inner thigh.

Then a bite.

“Such pretty sounds you make for me.”

And then he’s sucking harshly at the skin there, watching the shudder that rips through your sensitive body at the sensation. He doesn’t pull away until the mark is dark and flush against your skin. He continues this on the other thigh, on your ribs, your breasts and finally your neck, marking you thoroughly.

“Mine.” He growls, hot against your ear, “Mein schatz, will you let me have you?” he asks, and it’s literally all you can think about so you don’t even bother hiding the truth, the confession tumbling from your lips breathlessly.

“I’d let you do anything to me.”

He groans, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he does so. He pulls away to grab the condom that he had put next to him on the bed and leaning back on his haunches to roll it on. You’re so impatient, nails digging into his thighs and arms, whining as you watch his hands work.

“So needy,” He comments, swallowing your moan as he finally, finally, sinks into you.

The stretch as he enters you has your head rolling back on a moan, your legs wrapping around his waist the bring him the rest of the way in. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, growling against the skin there.

“Fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, his resolve quickly slipping at the feeling of you around his cock. And to his credit, he really tries to wait, to be good. But not seconds later he’s adjusting his grip on your hips and he’s thrusting into you with a force that makes the whole bed shake.

It’s barely been 30 seconds, but the build-up that had occurred throughout the entirety of the night had you right back on the edge, your nails clawing at his shoulders, his back, his thighs. Any purchase you could get on him, you were begging for more. You’d take anything he gave you without so much as batting an eyelash. His grip on your hips is tight and bruising, but the pain twists into a delicious pleasure that only spurs you on.

You must be speaking, babbling something back to him about how good it feels, how much you love being fucked by him because he’s laughing through a moan against your neck. He pauses for just a second, straightening up and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before continuing to fuck you.

“That’s it Kätzchen.” He purrs, eyes moving down your body to where he enters your body, “Taking my cock so well.”

You mewl at the praise, your body arching in response to his words. Your second orgasm takes you both by surprise, having hit you like a fucking freight train when he thrusts particularly deep, hitting one of your sweet spots. You scramble for purchase on him, mouth dropped open in a near-pornographic moan that you’ll surely be embarrassed about later. But for now, all you know is pleasure.

His hips falter, stuttering as your walls tighten around him. His head falls back on a low moan, fucking you hard and slow through your release.

“Such a sweet cunt,” he gasps, “Mein Gott..”

And then he’s tangling your hands together, holding it high above your head as he pushes your thighs back, flush against your chest. He’s the one babbling now, words from God only knows what language, whispered against your skin as he chases his own release. He gives one last hard thrust and he’s done, his teeth dragging against the skin on your shoulder, moaning against you as he rides out his orgasm.

As you both come down, you stroke the back of his neck, playing with the hairs there, trying to catch your breath. After a few moments, he pulls away just enough to kiss you. There’s a lingering heat and it’s a little messy due to your shared exhaustion but it’s good.

Once you’ve both caught your breath, he removes himself from your body, taking the necessary time to deal with the condom. You watch him lazily, unable to do much other than that. You’re so tired. But there’s that ache between your legs that you love so much and you think briefly that you could go another round, if he wanted to.

He must see something in your eyes when he returns because he laughs softly, “I feel I may have my hands full with you, schatzi.” he says as he crawls back into the bed with you, covering the both of you with a blanket, the cold now biting at your skin. You know you have to get up soon enough to sort yourself out before bed, but for a moment you stay with him.

His fingers brush over your face softly, following the slope of your nose and the angle of your cheeks. There’s no real purpose to his movements, just... touching. As if convincing himself that you’re real.

“You are special, schatzi.” he says softly, “I don’t know what your plans are, but I can only hope that you choose to continue to bless me with your presence.”

This man is such an enigma to you. He carries such confidence in every aspect of his life and yet he still doubts your loyalties. There’s anxiety and pain hidden within him, you can see it in his eyes as he continues to look at you. You wonder, how much of his past weighs on his shoulders. How long before he deems himself worthy of your affection? You lean in to kiss him softly, your lips dragging slowly against him. When you pull away you keep him close, brushing your noses together.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[writingonpaperpetals]

Kink Analysis: Beidou, Ningguang, and Rosaria

18+ content past cut

notes + cw: sexually possessive behavior (rosaria), gender neutral reader, brat taming (all three), bdsm (ningguang + rosaria)

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

Beidou

Beidou loves wrestling you for dominance. She likes it when her partner has fire to them. It riles her up and she hopes you get riled up too. If you win she will absolutely enjoy it. Sometimes she’s lazy and will let you win, though, if you really want to be the one on top tonight.

Though she can’t deny there’s a certain allur to shyer partners too—she finds them adorable. Especially if they want to take the lead for once. She’ll let them on top to see how they are.

She is obsessed with thighs, wether yours or hers are involved it gets her dripping wet. Thigh humping, rubbing, marking. All of it she loves. She could probably make you cum easily by just rubbing your thighs and giving them attention.

She likes marking you. Not as a posession thing but because she likes seeing the thing’s she’s done to your body on you. It gives her a sense of pride. But she can’t deny that seeing other people know exactly that you’re the crux‘s captain’s partner has a charm too, just not as much as seeing them on you in person. But if you want to mark her? Sure. Go ahead. She’ll wear them with pride, becuase they’re your marks. In fact the more you bruise her up she more she’ll enjoy it.

She is somewhat of a sadomasochist. Not into a whipping or bdsm sense, but pain enhances the experience for her. She likes rough sex, whether it be biting a little too hard on her neck or holding you down as she thrusts into you. She’ll stop if you don’t like it.

Beidou does have a hidden bratty side to her that would take a huge challenge to tame. You better be up for a fight if you want to tame her. The challenge is worth its reward, because the noises she makes are delightful.

Ningguang

Ningguang is a woman of elegance. And to her there is nothing more luxurious than sensual bath sex. She finds it both intimate and sweet as your hands slide over each other’s bodies and you run your fingers through each other’s hair as you bathe. With flower petals, oils, and candles around your shared tub. Sex in this case is less frantic, mostly because here its a form of relaxation.

Ningguang likes coaxing noises out of shyer partners and bending them to her will. She likes making them voice exactly what they want from her. Hearing them say such dirty things they wouldn’t normally say to others is so intimate.

She also is into rougher partners if her attraction to Beidou means anything. She likes making you give in to her, she finds such challenges fun and exhilarating. A partner that pushes back on her, who doesn’t fall so easily to her gets her blood pumping. If you’re the bratty type she’ll have lots of fun with you.

She likes inimate soft sex, but she does get extreme sadist moods. If you’re not into it its fine for her, but she is a master at dominating. She likes to watch you struggle to cum and grind her heel in you while you cry and beg her for release. She’ll let you cum eventually, but she wants to see how far she can push you.

Likes to finger you while you’re tied up snd unable to thrust on her fingers. You’ll be good for her, won’t you? You’ve lasted this long. Her aftercare is top notch and she will always be soothing snd loving with her words afterwards.

Ningguang loves petplay. She likes spoiling her pets and rewarding them for good behavior. She’ll give you a collar adorned with the finest of jewels.

Rosaria

Gets VERY possessive during sex. Calls you her fucktoy, her slut, her fucking whore. You’re hers to play with when she’s with you. Likes to degrade you with names but reminds you that you are hers and no one else’s. She doesn’t go too far past that unless you tell her to—she doesn’t actually want to make you feel miserable.

She isn’t afraid to fuck you and make you scream in the next room if some weirdo hits on you. Make all of Monstadt hear you, she doesn’t care. You’re hers and you will remember that when you leave the next morning, sore.

Likes to mark you up in places people will see. She’ll trace the marks with her finger and smirk.

She’s really into ropes. She likes to get tied up but she’ll be a brat about if you’re too slow or they’re not tight enough for her liking. You can tell if Rosaria is enjoying it by how bratty she’s being if you’re topping her. If she’s being extra bratty it means you’re doing something wrong, usually not bieing rough enough with her. If she wants you actually stop, however she will use the safeword.

She likes to tie you up and fiddle with you. If you’re into temperature play she’ll ice her fingers and run them down your sides to watch you squirm. She wants to watch you struggle and strain against your bonds. She won’t make then too tight for this reason unless you tell her too.

As sexually possessive as Rosaria gets she isn’t actually very possessive outside of the act. She might bring up a Kaeya and you threesome with you at some point if Kaeya expresses attraction towards you. (You’re in the middle of course.) You’re always welcome to say no, of course.

[bangtangalicious]

cancelled (1) | myg, jjk

summary: you cheated on your boyfriend, one of the most sought after boys on campus, with the nerd from the back of the lecture hall. that’s not the whole story, but only you know that. now a video has leaked across and everyone is turning against you for hurting such a perfect s/o.

pairing: yoongi x reader, jungkook x reader

wordcount: 3k

genre: yandere!yoongi and nerd!jungkook exyandere!jungkook

established-relationship!au college!au cheating!au

warnings: reader discretion is advised. cheating, mentions of past dubcon activity, yandere behavior, guilt, slight oral (f and m receiving), reverse cowgirl, soft smut in a not so soft situation, manipulation, jungkook calls you his pretty baby, sexual harassment, yoongi is lowkey a creep in this, prostitution i guess but like...its not how you'd think, mentions of rape fantasy but it doesnt happen

twoshot: part 1 | part 2 | masterlist

They say that you let a good thing be. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Well in your almost perfect life, that hand was Min Yoongi. Your boyfriend of 2 years now. You met through family, he was an heir, and you were the daughter of a wealthy associate. He used to spend his spring breaks with your family back in high school. You recall fondly how he sneak out, begging you to cover for him, end up passed out drunk in some alley and calling you, scared for his life.

You saw the way he grew—no, blossomed into the amazing man he is. You both got accepted to the same prestigious university program, and it is here your love story truly began. Straight out of a movie, Yoongi did not realize how much he adored you until he saw you grinding your ass up on some random guy at a frat party. A few months of drama gave way to pure happiness.

Yoongi made quite a name for himself on campus. He was incredibly charming, was impressive in his studies, and was always around for a good time. He treated everyone with respect and had no enemies. You felt proud to be his girlfriend, by his side as he made his mark.

And he was so so good to you. While your start may have been driven by jealousy and rage, he made up for it entirely by taking you on weekend getaways, loving you sweetly, holding you while you cry and buying you food. You two were freakishly domestic, and you loved it. You were ready for the ring whenever he was. So blessed that you could wake up every morning in a pair of arms that held you like you were their whole world.

Unfortunately, paradise tends to be a destination never quite reached. You sat, curled up into your knees, trembling as you watched cruel comments pop up on a video.

ungrateful whore.

Yoongi deserves so much better

#y/nisoverparty

why would you even want to cheat on a catch like yoongi? jfc

You didn’t know what bothered you the most. Was it the comments? Was it your fucked out face in the video? You moans that clearly indicated pleasure? Was it the fact that you hurt a man you loved? Or was it the fact that he was still there, sitting right next to you and kissing your damp cheeks every time he saw a tear, mumbling into your neck that it was okay, that he wasn’t mad. Did you deserve someone so perfect?

“Aw baby” He coos at you, stroking your hair as your sobs got louder. You fell into his embrace, unsure of what to think or do. “Ssh…I’m not mad baby. It’s my fault I wasn’t there”

You didn’t know how true his words were. You didn’t know just how at fault he was.

Yoongi had been doing his work in your shared apartment in his private study which even you weren’t allowed to enter. The security footage of your lecture played on his monitor, but he was barely paying attention. He kept an eye on you, but it was getting unnecessary. You had been together for so long, he could trust you now. He sighed and zoomed into where you sat, whispering something to the person seated next to you. They giggled and slid their hand onto your thigh. Yoongi simply watched, a smirk playing on his lips. The whole campus knew you were his. No one would dare make a move on you. He made sure of it. It was the whole reason he made your relationship so visible. He had people’s respect, and so they would respect that you belonged to him.

The hand trailed up your thin yoga pants, cupping your core. You slapped the hand away and Yoongi grinned wider. He liked to test you every now and then.

Yoongi wired money to that man’s bank account through his phone. Now all you had to do was tell him what happened. There was no room for secrets between you two.

“I’m home babe” He heard you walk in. He popped a Xanax and gulped down a glass of water. He smiled at you sweetly, taking your bag and setting it down before attacking your neck with soft, breathless kisses.

“How was your day?” He asked quietly, “Anything interesting happen?”

“Nah. Pretty uneventful” He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh. Nothing at all?”

“Well” Yoongi’s eyes perked. Tell me someone harassed you baby. Just tell me. “I did try this amazing latte at the cafe in the Literature building.”

Why were you lying to him? Yoongi tilted his head. It wasn’t that big of a deal, it just made him wonder what else you hid from him. The little things. The little things that pile up.

Yoongi realized it had gone too far when he heard you gossiping with a few of your girl friends in the hallway of the Science Institute. “I just can’t believe he won’t fuck you. Doesn’t he know how many people would if they had a chance?”

“He seems so perfect but it’s almost like he’s just lacking the one key thing. Dick” They giggled. You rolled your eyes. You had confessed that you really did want to have sex. Yoongi wanted to save himself for marriage, but it was getting hard for you. When you brought this up with Yoongi he shut you down immediately.

“Baby” He fingered the purity ring on his pinky finger, “You know I can’t”

You had been frequently meeting with someone from one of your lab classes, a certain Jeon Jungkook. Yoongi didn’t love this, but he was acquainted with Jungkook, and knew that he likely was not a threat. The boy was not your type at all—his clunky glasses and sweater vests and his hair long and swept back, unlike Yoongi’s fresh blonde cut. Sometimes you wouldn’t tell him that you were with Jungkook, but he still knew. Nothing happened. But he still got irritated.

Unfortunately it was impossible to truly watch you all the time. After all, Yoongi was a social guy and had to make appearances frequently. He often wondered if you knew he watched you, so you waited to run off fuck yourself on Jungkook when he wasn't looking. He bit his lip until blood came out, raging at the prospect.

He wasn’t entirely wrong about you though. You did always feel pressure of behaving in a way that reflected well on him. So when everyone was looking at Yoongi, you were able to slouch your shoulders and relax. You would go to Jungkook’s house for a drink, with no ulterior motive on either of your end. You loved Yoongi. Jungkook respected him, and you. There was no issue.

So when Yoongi showed up at Jungkook’s doorstep a week later with a bag full of cash asking him to fuck his girlfriend, he was disgusted at first.

“E…excuse me?” He stammered, blushing. Yoongi squinted at him.

“Have sex with y/n the next time she is over.” He put on a show, “I just feel bad I cannot give her what she desires. I don’t want to deprive her of anything. I know she is fond of you so if you wouldn’t mind…she is very beautiful I can tell you that”

“I…that’s not…do you realize how insane this is?”

Yoongi shrugged, “It’s twenty-thousand dollars to fuck a pretty girl. What’s so bad?”

“Does she want this? D…do you have her consent to be asking me this?”

“Of course.” He chuckled giving a charming smile, “In fact, she has a bit of a fantasy that I was hoping you could indulge. I am not sure if she will go through with it but, she might try to resist at first, but really she wants to be used like a whore. She will love it, really.”

Jungkook gave him a skeptical look. “What the fuck? You want me to indulge your girlfriend’s rape fantasy? I’m not a fucking sadist”

“It’s not a rape fantasy. She just likes to struggle a bit but then she will get into it. She will want it”

“I can’t believe I am even entertaining this conversation, you need to leave”

“Forty-thousand.”

“Fuck off Yoongi. First of all, I am not even into y/n…” He paused.

“Oh please, she’s the finest thing in miles of here, you just haven’t considered her as available. That’s how I know I can trust you to do this for me.”

Jungkook gulped. That’s not quite it. He thought to himself. But the thought passed when Yoongi took off his watch and handed it to him.

“This is worth half a million dollars. Are we good?”

Jungkook just gaped at him.

“You have had sex before right?”

Oh yes he had. Once. He nodded slowly.

“Okay good. Please show her a good time and keep this between us”

“She knows right? She knows you’re asking me to do this?”

Yoongi grinned and pat Jungkook’s shoulder, “Oh baby boy, she’s the one who suggested it”

Jungkook found that a bit hard to believe.

What Yoongi didn’t know was that Jungkook already has had sex. With you. You didn’t know it was him, and it was long before you began dating Yoongi.

Jungkook had been obsessed with you as a high schooler, your pictures collaging the back of his bathroom door, a variety of your things—forgotten hoodies, dropped pens— messily shoved into the drawer of his desk.

It was an innocent phase at first. You were just so pretty. He couldn’t help the way his blood would rush between his legs every time you would glance in his general direction. He couldn’t help watching the way you outgrew your uniform skirt, almost breaking down in tears when you replaced it with a larger size. He would sneak out of class when you had PE to watch you run, and the way your breasts bounced in the tight top you wore.

You didn’t know him. Why would you? He was no way near your league. He worked extremely hard, dreaming to get into the same university as you on a full ride because his family could never afford it.

Jungkook would normally follow you home, obviously he just wanted to make sure you reached safe. You had been crying the entire walk home. Jungkook had to gather every ounce of self restraint not to go hug you and kiss you until you smiled again. He hated seeing you cry, and it made him want to die.

He was worried about you. You entered your beautiful home, but no one was there. What if you tried to harm yourself? Who would protect you?

He had snuck in through the back.

If anyone had been around, they may have heard a scream. But more likely the would have heard the cries of pleasure that followed.

That evening you told Yoongi you were going to work on stuff with Jungkook. You dressed modestly, not bothering to freshen up much. He watched through his cameras as you arrived into Jungkook’s tiny apartment. So much smaller than his, probably in more ways than one, he clicked his tongue in amusement.

“Hey Jungkook!” You hugged him lightly. He looked extremely uncomfortable which made Yoongi all the more amused.

Two people fucking who both don’t want to. What do you call that? Yoongi chuckled darkly.

“Listen y/n…I know that…I know I agreed but I just wanna make sure…” Jungkook could barely look you in the eye. As destiny would have it, you chose that moment to pull your hoodie off, giving Jungkook a flash of the underside of your breasts. He gulped. “You really don’t remember me do you…”

“What do you mean?” You were so confused. Jungkook licked his lips and crawled over where you were sitting on his couch, causing you to lay on your back. “What…hey what the fuck are you doing?”

He didn’t like your tone. It awoke a protective instinct in him. He stroked your hair and gazed deeply into your eyes. “How long has it been since you’ve had sex?”

You blushed furiously, face heating up dangerously fast at the sudden question. You shifted your neck away from him uncomfortably. “Um…I guess…3, maybe 4 years?”

“Tsk, poor girl.” He cooed, his finger grazed your cheek, “Alright, I’ll play along. You can let me know if you want me to stop okay?” He lowered himself enough to let his lips trace travel down the veins on your neck. He inhaled you, memories of innocent years coming back to him in floods.

You were frozen. His body radiated heat, his scent was giving you a high you couldn’t quite explain. You shouldn’t feel this way. You had sweet sweet Yoongi waiting for you at home. Sweet Yoongi who loved you, and was saving himself for you like the pure angel he is.

You looked up at the soft dark eyes of the man above you now. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu.

“Jungkook” You exhaled as his lips began kissing over your shirt, down the valley of your breasts, lifting your shirt so he could kiss your stomach. “I…I have a boyfriend”

“You’re really committed to this huh?” He chuckled, taking some of his fingers and slowly circling under the waistline of your shorts. You blinked a few times to try to react to what was happening but your body was overwhelmed. It had been so long since you were touched like this.

“Please” You said loudly, so loudly that Jungkook barely hears the “don’t do this” that followed in a whisper.

Jungkook thought back to the night you took his virginity. It hadn’t been on his agenda, he was content following you around and jacking off to your social media accounts every night. That night had changed him. He had realized then that he was messed up. He realized he needed help and he sought it out. A few years of therapy had done him good. He felt guilty about it for a while, but eventually had to grow and move on. He would never act like that again.

But here he was.

And there you were. Below him again. Begging for him through your actions and pushing him away with your words.

Emotions overwhelmed you. Your heart wrenched at the bitter guilt that you were doing the unthinkable. They very thing that you would condemn about other couples. How could you? How could you cheat? But your body was whimpering.

“I have a boyfriend. He’s so good to me. He’s so amazing, and I…I love” You let out a sob as he allowed his hips to roll into you, giving you friction you had craved for so long, “Jungkook…please” You knew he was reading between the lines. You knew he heard your consent, and that disgusted you.

“Mmm I know baby. I know you love him” Jungkook sighed as he pulled down your shorts, “Tell me about him baby. Tell me how much you love him” He began kissing your thighs, burying his face into your cunt.

“He’s so—ahhh” Jungkook took his tongue and pushed aside your underwear to lick a long stripe between your legs. “So good. So fucking…mmmmhhh” You squealed as Jungkook shoved his tongue inside you. The sensation was heavy in your core, but the sensation drove you wild. He flicked his tongue around, almost too easily being able to find all the right places to make you twitch and moan his name.

“Do you want my cock pretty baby? Hmm?” He whispered teasingly, his voice muffling against you as he continued to eat you out. You yelped as he sucked on your clit and nodded your head dumbly. “My little girl so desperate for cock she’d cheat on her boyfriend hm?” He came up for air, your juices messily spread across his lips, his eyes shot with lust.

“Don’t…don’t say that” You whined. Jungkook nodded before pulling off his sweater. You traced his muscles with your fingers, so defined and beautifully tan as he shrugged off his jeans. He took his glasses off and folded them carefully but you grabbed his hand.

“Keep them on…your glasses…” Jungkook’s eyes widened in amusement.

“Why” He teased.

“I like them. I like them a lot. You remind me of someone I used to like” Jungkook’s blood ran cold.

Did you remember?

Did you remember the way he had pinned you up against your kitchen wall back then? The way he left hickies all over your body, marking you as his. The way he had entered you for the first time, with you sprawled out across your dining table, then again on the counter tops, then again from behind pressed up against the window.

Did you remember how many times you both came? It was like a sex fest of hours and hours. In your mouth, on your face, on your tits and buried deep in your cunt, the condom barely surviving the pressure of his seed.

Did you remember the way you cried after in his arms, unable to walk? The way he held you and kissed you softly, apologizing.

Did you remember how he had given you pills so you would forget, hoping that you wouldn’t be sad any longer?

Jungkook had been too lost in thought to notice that you had pulled your own shirt off, leaving you in a sports bra, pulling his neck down so you could kiss him.

“Jungkook” You gasped as he finally regained consciousness and dragged his fingers across your pussy.

“Will you ride me baby?” His eyes twinkled in his request and you were more than happy to indulge him. Jungkook switched positions with you. You reverse cowgirled him, unknowingly, the perfect position for Yoongi to see all of you as you fucked yourself silly onto Jungkook’s cock.

You lowered yourself down on him slowly, savoring the stretch that you had almost forgotten you could ever feel. Your fingers could never give you a sensation quite like this. Jungkook shut his eyes and tried to savor the feeling.

“Pretty…pretty baby” He cooed, sitting up so he could nibble your shoulder and hold your hips as he bounced you slowly on his cock.

“Tell me something” He exhaled, feeling himself slowly approaching his orgasm, the feeling of your soft, warm walls around him too much to bear, ���Did you want this because of me…or did you just need cock?”

You continued thrusting yourself back into him, the firm hold of his hands on you giving you an arousing sense of comfort. You wiggled your ass, liking the way he would grunt when you did.

“Did you want me baby? Did you do this for me?”

You cried out suddenly, feeling a long awaited orgasm overwhelming your senses. Jungkook’s grip on you tightened as he tried to keep fucking you through it, your body going limp, twitching erraticly.

“So pretty…my sweet sweet girl” He turned your head to kiss your lips, slipping his tongue in and relishing in the love you poured in through your actions. He caressed your breasts and continued to thrust up into you.

“Come inside me” You exhaled softly.

“No y/n…that wouldn’t be right” Jungkook was reminded of the eerily intimidating presence of the man who was paying him to do this. He slowly brought his thrusts to a halt before helping you up off of him, his cock still painfully erect. “I can finish myself”

You pouted, watching him drill his graze into your naked presence, violently stroking his cock. He licked his lips shamelessly.

“I don’t love you anymore y/n” He whispered too softly for you to hear, “I’m over you. I’m over this. This doesn’t mean anything—AAAAhhh” Your mouth was on his cock and that was all it took for him to come harder than he ever had.

He took you into his arms, wrapping them around you and kissing your face over and over again, caressing your hips and trying to relax your muscles so you wouldn’t be sore.

You reached for your phone as Jungkook began to fill the silence.

“Yoongi seems really great. He clearly cares about you a lot. I’m really happy for you, genuinely” He says softly, “I’m honestly really impressed he let this happen”

But you didn’t hear him, all you could hear was your heart drumming loudly in your ears as you saw the stream of notifications on your phone. Your heart dropping like a bomb when you saw the single message you dreaded more than anything.

yoongi: what’s this? <link>

And linked was a live stream of the events that had just transpired.

masterlist                                                       next----->

A/N: im just cackling at #y/nisoverparty HAHA um stream film out! woohoo

[some-kindofgnome]

for auld lang syne

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything.”

It’s time for your agency’s extravagant New Years’ Eve party. But after a little sabbatical, there are some things you’re not ready to come back to. 

characters: katsuki bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, pro hero!bakugou and pro hero!reader, mentions of injury, near-death experiences and gunshots, smoking, drinking, angst with a (filthy) happy ending, me being a whore for glamorous new years’ parties

notes: This fic has been dragging me across the coals since Christmas- I could not get it out of my head, despite how much work I knew it would be to get it out on time. Still, it feels supremely worth it. I have a metric ton of love to give to @hoe-doroki​ for beta-ing this mammoth on such short notice (I dumped it in her lap at 4am) because she really helped me whip it into shape. As always. 💖 

Happy New Year, everyone. 

(MASTERLIST) 

“Won’t be long now.”

Anxiety bleeds into the already-nervous voice of your driver, muffled by the plexiglass divider that separates you. You’ve been sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for the past four red lights, barely inching toward the intersection with every green.

You’re well past fashionably late at this point. You’re sure that the commissioned driver’s fearing for his job at this point, knowing exactly how long ago you were supposed to have arrived at your own party.

But you couldn’t care less. The longer it takes you to get there, the better. The vodka you’d downed neat, standing over the bar cart in your polished apartment, sours in the pit of your stomach. And the fact that your outfit barely allows a spare breath isn’t exactly cooling your nerves, either.

You’re draped over the door, resting one elbow on its edge to cushion your jaw as you lay your forehead against the chilly glass. Outside, the crowded traffic casts a golden warmth over the bluish urban night, betraying the slow swirl of fluffy snowflakes that drift lazily into the street.

Tonight has all the makings for an ideal, albeit bitterly cold, New Year’s Eve. But if it were up to you, you’d be watching all the wonder unfold from the comfort of your own bed.

You’ve been away long enough, though, says your agent. It’s time, says your manager. You stay away from the spotlight for too long and we’re going to forget about you, says the Internet.

The glittering gold fabric your stylist presented you with would’ve swelled your heart on any other occasion. He knows your taste to the button. And after breaking into exhausted sobs at your first fitting together, you’d been able to tell him that the outfit was perfect.

At long last, the glossy windows of your agency loom outside. You push the backseat door open before your driver can even kill the engine, stepping out as gracefully as you can muster and pulling the folds of your designer coat demurely closed around your glamorous party clothes. You’re greeted by swaths of flashbulbs and determined shouts of your hero name, and suddenly the practiced gracious smile that you’ve always saved for the cameras is stretching your lips one more time.

You used to love something about this. But you’ve almost never had to face it alone.

Inside, the party’s taken off without you. Your coat’s taken before you can even see who’s hands are slipping it deftly off your shoulders, but by the time you’re ushered into the elevator and sent all the way to the top floor, you’re already sweating with the anticipation of all that’s waiting for you.

The doors open to a rush of guests, each noticing you simultaneously and pushing in to greet you.

Arriving late does absolutely nothing to dissolve the grandness of your entrance. Your attention is immediately pulled in a handful of different directions as celebrities and dignitaries and politicians shake your hands and congratulate you. People you’ve never met are telling you how good it is to see you on your feet again and, despite the overwhelming distractions, you can’t stop searching the crowd.

You don’t want to let yourself search for somebody in particular, but you spot him long before your shame catches up with you.

It’s not a glimpse of his mussed hair you catch, bobbing through the crowd. Nor is it a slip of the edge of his suit, the most devastating shade of midnight blue you could have possibly imagined.

Your eyes, like magnets, are drawn right to his crimson gaze. Lightning shoots through your chest, and you look away so fast you nearly pull a muscle in your neck. You cast your gaze immediately to the red-faced MP in front of you and let yourself stare. Still, from the corner of your eye, you can see the way he lingers, still facing you.

You haven’t seen Katsuki in months. Luckily, your ability to multitask has not faded, and you make easy small talk with the mayor and his wife while you sense him, in all his midnight splendor, disappearing into the crowd again.

A close call. Too close, in fact, not to warrant a drink. You excuse yourself kindly from the mayor’s attention, cutting through the glamorous partygoers until you reach the bar at the center of the room. It’s crowded, but you grab the bartender’s attention quick enough and order the first of many glasses of Dom Perignon.

The agency knows how to spend, for a special occasion.

It’s while you’re trapped at the bar, waiting for that imperative first drink, that he corners you. You spot him an instant too late, sidling between two dancing couples and crossing the short distance between you. There’s no way to skirt subtly away from him now. Instead, you lean more fervently across the bar and immerse yourself in an intense examination of the liquor, shelved decoratively behind the working bartenders.

He hesitates—possibly for the first time ever—but you’re determined not to watch as he searches for the right way to bridge the silence. You spot the way he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and when he finally speaks it’s low and sharp and bitter.

“That’s a nice dress.”

He has to lean too close to make his voice heard, speaking low and gruff to you in a way he never used to. You’re too anxious to care whether he sees the way you close your eyes to dull the fervent ache that flares in your chest.

He’s not allowed to say things like that to you. Not now.

“Listen.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, pushing ahead.

In the throes of closeness, it’s easy to pick up the tremor in his voice. That kind of shake used to scare you. It’s the way he’s always spoken to you when he’s keeping his temper at bay in public.

He’s opening his mouth to say something else, something deeper and far more expository perhaps, but your champagne arrives with no moment to spare. You pluck it eagerly from the bartender’s fingers with an exceedingly gracious smile and turn quickly in the direction you swear Katsuki’s not blocking.

“Watch it.” He grabs your wrist to keep you from sloshing half your fresh champagne down your front. His touch sears hotter than you’d dreaded, and you can’t stop yourself from flinching at the rough brush of his calloused fingers over your tender inner wrist.

Fuck.

“Don’t run off,” he insists, squeezing your wrist just a little tighter. Your entire body is drawn tight like a bow, but you’re not actively searching for an escape route at this point. Sensing this, he slowly unwraps his fingers, dropping your hand and letting you down half your drink in a couple of parched gulps.

“You look…” you start to say, letting your eyes wander his immaculate form one more time. Whoever cut that suit for him knew his shape well. It fits perfectly. Contrasts his golden hair like the night behind a harvest moon.

Absence has not culled your feelings for him. Especially not when he comes back to you like this.

You take another long, slow sip, ignoring the way Katsuki’s brows shoot toward his hairline when you nearly empty the glass. His gaze darts to the narrow flute in your hand, the prints of peachy lipstick that mar it.

With your heart beating a touch slower, you try again.

“You look good.”  

Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“I can’t—” he starts, shaking his head as his eyes swim the crowd. “I’m not doing this.”

“What?” Your stomach drops. When he looks at you again it’s dead straight, burgundy and blazing in that way that used to make you molten.

Now it makes you want to cut and run.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ play nice, like this,” he pushes. He takes a step toward you, letting your name—your real name—fall from his lips as tender and soft as a prayer. “Explain to me why my agent had to tell me you were gonna be here tonight.”

“Katsuki,” you plead quietly, backing away from him a touch. “I don’t want to—I can’t. Here. Please.”

For a million other people he might press on. He might get angry and demand an answer, threaten anything it takes to solve the puzzles in his brain. For you, his strong jaw ticks and he shoves clenched fists back into his ironed pockets.

“Let’s just,” you begin, “make it through to midnight, okay?”

“Fine,” he bites, but he doesn’t like folding to you. He gets you back by clearing his throat and extending you a palm, drawing the attention of the people around you. They turn, charmed by the agency’s finest reappearing as the duo they’ve always adored.

There’s a glint of something in his eyes as he gives his chin a little jut toward the dance floor.

“Dance with me, then.”

You’ve been to hundreds of opulent agency spectacles together. Charity benefits, galas, holiday parties and the like have always been studded by your presence. But no matter how many times you’ve entered the party together, you never managed to get him onto the dance floor. Despite your whining and pleading and fussing, he’s never ever let you drag him out there.

So this feels like a particularly low blow. But the orchestra’s struck up a dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight and there are too many people watching for you to turn him down.

Instead, you down the rest of your champagne, set it on the bar behind you, and slip your hand defiantly into his.

“Fine.”

His fingers close gently around your palm and he gives it a lingering squeeze that turns your blood to venom.

You’re already racing through a complex plan to survive this attention as he walks you onto the dance floor. Some of the other couples pause in their swaying to send a smattering of applause over the crowd. You can feel the winning smile tugging at your mouth, forcing you to swallow the panicked ache in your chest.  

Katsuki pauses at the center of the dance floor and pulls you slowly closer. The low dip of your gown places his warm hand on bare skin when he settles it in the small of your back, and you’re sure he doesn’t miss the sharp little suck of breath that you’re not prepared to hide.

He does not try to speak, so you’re silent as you settle a shaky hand on the shoulder of his perfect suit. He’s as perfect a dancer as you’ve always known he’d be, and he leads you into a smooth little sway that’s easy enough to navigate in your precarious gold heels but sweeps you into the music like a scene from years gone by.

“Hey,” he grunts a few bars in, ducking a little closer as his fingers press into the bare skin of your spine. He pulls you against him, forcing your tense body against his. The gentle dip of his hairstyle brushes your temple as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. “You’re holding your breath.”

You deflate against him, letting your eyes fall shut. When you take your next careful inhale, your head is filled by the heady, smoky scent of him. Your heart pounds so forcefully it’s practically blinding you. But above all else you hate yourself for still feeling all of this, after so many months of promising to force it away.

Katsuki knows you well enough not to try and trap you in conversation in public. But he doesn’t pull back any further, continuing to hold you flush against him, letting your soft cheek brush his with every couple of steps.

Despite your best efforts, you’re drowning in him: the strength of his touch, the fluidity in his movements. His thumb strokes the base of your spine with an easy rhythm that you’re trying hard not to notice. It’s becoming too much. He’s holding you closer than a colleague should, tucking his nose too attentively against the side of your head for a courtesy dance. You’re overthinking too many of the signs. You’re letting yourself believe what should have been thoroughly dashed to pieces so many months ago.

It’s when tears well behind your glittery eyelids that you put a stop to it.

“Katsuki, I—” You can’t finish, pushing yourself sharply away from his chest. Whatever expression of dreamlike peace that had touched his eyes fades quickly as he sees the telltale wet sparkle in yours, and he reaches for you an instant too late.

He calls your name softly, fingertips brushing the edge of your upper arm. But your tears are spilling over and you’re backing away and you cannot be here anymore, not when people are starting to see.

“I can’t do this,” you plead. “I can’t pre—I’m sorry.”

With a final shake of your head, you turn and hurry clumsily from the dance floor, pulling up the beaded skirt of your heavy gown and sweeping, as quickly as possible, to the glass doors shut tightly against the imposing snow on the terrace.

It’s bitterly cold, nearly fifty storeys up, and the wind whips mercilessly past your bare arms with biting chill. You can’t stay out here long, but it still feels better than the alternative.

With shaking fingers, you dip into the tiny bag you’ve been wearing over one shoulder. You’ve stashed exactly one emergency cigarette in its silky depths. You haven’t smoked in weeks, but something told you that tonight would beg one.

You have to back away from the railing to even light it in the wind, but you’re barely two puffs in before the door behind you opens carefully.

It’s the last person in the world you hoped for. And the only one you can imagine finding you out here. He’s got a glass of something neat in each hand—amber in one, clear in the other. He spies the cigarette in your fingers and his soft, concerned expression melts into a scowl.

“You’re still smoking?”

You take a defiant drag, blowing the smoke in his direction. The wind catches it, carrying it in a sharp curve back over your head. Katsuki licks his lower lip, but you can tell by the way his nose twitches that he’s trying not to chuckle.

You nod toward the whiskey in his right hand. “How many of those have you had tonight?”

“Not enough,” he quips. He nods toward the cigarette. “Put it out.”

“You don’t get to order me around anymore.”

“I said put it out.”

Your livid soul wants to defy him. You’re craving the conflict that inevitably comes when you both dig in your heels. But you’ve got no energy left to fight, so you flick the smoke dejectedly onto the wet pavement and crush it under one delicate pump.

“Better?” The attitude cuts cruelly through your voice. Katsuki just pushes the other glass into your hand and you know that it’s gin before you even have to smell it. You roll your eyes.

“The healthier alternative,” you snarl, but he’s finished with your games.

“Come inside,” he prompts. “You’re gonna lose your nose out here.”

“I’m not sure that’s your problem any longer.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Katsuki, I wanna hear you say it.”

He’s throwing back an irritated slug of his drink, but he bristles, gesturing wildly with the cup.

“Like we’re not gonna be partners anymore.”

His voice is punctuated by a horrible, involuntary sob that breaks from your lips. He’s always been able to read you so well, picking up on things that you’re not even ready to acknowledge. But he’s right. That is how you’ve been speaking, because you can’t even imagine standing next to him in a photo right now, let alone letting him take your life into his hands.  

Katsuki moves forward, shocked by your tears, but you hold your empty palm out straight and, like he would only for you, he relents.

“Because I don’t think we can be anymore.”

“Shut up. Look at you. You’re fine. You look…” his eyes cast briefly over your form, “fine.”

You clap a hand protectively to your abdomen, remembering the painful tug and knowing that he’s missing the point.

“That’s not why,” you snap through your tears. “That’s not even…close to why. Katsuki, don’t be dense.” Your voice is breaking because you’re about to say it, the thing you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel as you were zipped into your gown earlier tonight. And if you’re going to say it, there’s no point in doing it with gusto.

Might as well go out like the whimpering fool you are.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whine, “because somehow, despite my best efforts, Katsuki, I fell fucking in love with you, so hard, and you knew I did, and so you…you don’t. You don’t, and I’ve ruined everything, and that’s fine, but I—”

He pulls your name from the very depths of his chest. If you were expecting fire and brimstone, you’re met with an even more harrowing sight—soft, somber, remorseful Katsuki, looking at you like he’d stop the world on its axis if it would make things better.

The memories are too easy to reconjure, and the sunshine of that sticky summer afternoon that changed everything lights up behind his gaze.

There was a crime syndicate you’d been uprooting for months. An underground hideout tucked well away from the prying eyes of hero society. A stray spray of bullets—bullets, of all things, finding the gaps in your shattered armour and nearly taking you from him.

You’d been sure. Both of you. There were too many shots. There was too much blood. The hideout was too well-hidden for anybody to find you in time. Your vision was bleeding out around the edges, and you saw Katsuki cry real tears for the first time.

In a slurred heap of breathless prose, you’d unloaded everything. The most important secret you’d ever kept from him came spilling from your blood-tinged lips.

You were glad to go, if it meant you never had to lose him. Glad to be the one to selfishly leave him behind. You were going to be okay if you never had to face a world without him in it. Because—and you’d choked this on a fresh wave of blood and ungraceful spittle—you’d loved him as long as you’d ever known him.

Six days later, you woke up alone in the ICU. And that was the last you’d seen or heard or known of the man who’d once promised to have your back, always.

Katsuki silently finishes his drink. His cheeks and nose have flushed deeply from the ruthless chill, and he turns to give the city one last glance before moving toward the door.

“Come inside,” he gruffs. Deep shivers have broken out along the column of your spine, but you wrap your frigid arms around yourself in protest.

“I’m not going back in there.” Not like this.

“Idiot,” he snaps softly. “Look at you. You’re gonna die for real if you stay out here.” He tightens his jaw and slams the empty glass down on the windowsill. Then he looks at you with all the lights of the night blazing in his crimson stare.

“Let me take you somewhere quiet. No one’s gonna see.” His chest rises and falls with a deep breath and he reaches carefully for your arm. “I promise.”

Even with a breaking heart, you’re a fucking sucker for him. Your voice is teary and pathetic but pinched by cold.

“Fine.”

He slips an arm around your shoulders—making your chest lurch—and you duck back inside. Immediately he takes you to the wall, putting himself between you and the rest of the party. With the breadth of his chest he shields you from prying eyes that grow drunker by the minute.

You skirt the edge of the party, making it to the stairwell door on the opposite wall. Somebody by the bar looks up just in time to see Bakugou tugging fiercely down on the handle, but you slip onto the fluorescent-lit landing and the silver door falls shut behind you without consequence.

You’re turning around to grab for the door that isn’t closing fast enough as he slips through it, colliding gently with his chest. Bakugou grabs your wrists to stop you, and for an instant you’re nose-to-nose, smelling him and the whiskey on his breath and the faint odour of paint that never quite faded from the concrete walls.

If not for the tears leaving streaks in your makeup, you might let yourself believe he’s lingering in front of you on purpose.

You pull from his grip and turn back toward the stairs before either of you have the chance to imagine more.

Your office is at the end of the hall on the next floor down. It’s a corner office studded with windows, far too lovely for someone who spends as much time in the field as you do. But you’d worked hard to make it a personable space, with plants and artwork and a couple of very comfortable guest chairs in emerald velvet.

Katsuki rolls his eyes every time he has to wave off the odour of your favourite scented candle, but you’ve caught him admiring what you’ve done with his office, too.

Now, the space is too tidy for either of your tastes, a little dusty from so many months of neglect. You’ve been out of commission for six months, and nursing a heartbreak far too immense to allow any casual visits to the agency.

He closes the door behind the both of you. Locks it, just in case. You’re already pacing across the rug and perching on the edge of the desk, gratefully taking some of the weight off your aching feet.

He keeps his back to you for a long moment, fingers lingering on the brass doorknob. His shoulders bob with a deep, harrowing sigh.

“You were dying.”

He turns around, and in the quiet dark of your office his eyes are lit up with a deeper fear than you’ve ever seen in him. He comes toward you and sits in one of your squishy little chairs, steepling his fingers and settling his elbows on his knees.

“You don’t–” he shakes his head and lowers it, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. “You don’t understand. You weren’t making any sense.”

“I was,” you bite back, gripping at the edge of your desk. “I meant everything I said to you, Katsuki; I remember every word.”

He flinches. He looks so sorry it’s starting to genuinely scare you.

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything—”

“That’s not it,” he demands, straightening. “You didn’t. I did.” He slapped a hand against his chest, the dull thud reverberating through your own heart.

“You said those things and I didn’t believe you. They couldn’t have been true. Not when I’d spent so much fucking time wishing they could be. I couldn’t tell myself you felt that way about me. I couldn’t hope. Not when I’d come so fucking close to losing you so easily, I—”

His voice breaks and he looks away, and you might be crazy but his chin gives a telltale little shake like he’s holding back tears.

“So you thought it would be easier to what? Fucking ghost me like a bad Tinder date?”

That hurts more than it should. You’ve seen Bakugou at his very worst, bleeding and soot-streaked and showing you feelings he never means to. For a very brief period in your lives, you believed yourself to be special.

“Don’t play the innocent,” he snarls. “You never talked to me, either. I had to find out from my fucking manager that you were outta the hospital.”

“So you never thought to drop by? Bring some fucking… flowers?” You can feel the venom filling your mouth and you’re not altogether certain you’re strong enough to swallow it this time.

“And tell you what? That I was in love with you and, maybe I heard you wrong, but you said something while you were dying in my fuckin’ arms and I was hoping for some goddamned clarification?”

“Yes!” You sob, the word ripping itself from your chest and landing wet and heavy on the floor between you. “That! Anything would have been better than radio fucking silence. Katsuki, I was sure you hated me.”

“Well I fucking love you, okay?” He rises from his chair, taking one step forward. It lands him almost right between your thighs and you hate how close he is, but you have no power to pull away. He cups your jaw in strong, gentle fingers, forcing your eyes to his.

“I fucked up,” he presses. He leans down and presses his forehead to yours and this time his proximity is on purpose. You drink it down in eager gulps.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. Despite your tears and the ache in your heart, you give a wet little laugh and nuzzle your nose against his.

“I missed you, too.”

He takes your hands and pulls them both to his chest. And for a long moment you just sit there, curled over one another in the dark and growing accustomed to the idea of being okay again.

“Did you just…” you start after a long moment of silence. His eyelashes flutter against your cheek as he tucks his cheek against yours, but the grin that pulls your mouth is enough for him to stand back and look at you.

“Did you just admit to making a mistake?”

You’re laughing at your own joke before Katsuki can even roll his eyes. But he’s scowling good-naturedly and tugging himself against you by the hips.

“C’mere, you brat.”

He’s leaning in to close the distance between you when muffled chanting from upstairs makes you pause. You tilt an ear toward the window and light up, easily recognizing the five, four, three, two, one as the magnitude builds.

Bright flashes of gold and red light up the sky outside your window in a brilliant display. And all at once the lingering ache drains from your chest and you shoot Katsuki a fond little smile.

“I guess it’s midnight.”

“We missed the fireworks,” he notes, nodding toward the window as he edges back toward you.

“Not really,” you confess, and the first real big smile breaks through the pain when he steps up between your knees again, nice and tight and deliberate.

He cups your jaw in one hand again, settling the other palm on your knee, where it peeks through the golden slip of your dress.

“Happy New Year,” you whisper, eyes falling shut. You hear the way he smiles, that bare little chuckle that used to make your heart light up like stars.

He leans in and kisses you without another word. It’s soft but firm and so loving, so much better than any brush of the hand or lingering glance. Better, even, than the way he danced you into a stupor upstairs. This is yours and nobody else’s.

And you’re not letting him go anytime soon.

You let the kiss deepen as naturally as you can, dropping your jaw and letting the bare press of his tongue roll against your teeth. You reach up and grab his jacket by its lapels, hitching him even closer as the fireworks die out behind you.

He’s not backing down, either. Katsuki draws his hands from your body to unbutton his jacket, shrugging it away easily without breaking the kiss. He’s pressing his mouth to yours in long, lingering spells, tasting you eagerly while his hands have to stay busy. But as soon as he can he’s touching you again, teasing his fingers under the slit of your dress and brushing them over your bare thighs.

“Katsuki…” you whine into his mouth, turning your head to gasp and fill your empty lungs. He finds the next bare patch of skin, kissing down the side of your jaw. He finds your earring where it lays against your tender neck, sucking the crystal into his mouth and giving it a gentle tug.

“Fuck,” you gasp, and he grins into your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’ve had enough already.”

“Not a chance,” you growl. There are millions of questions flooding your subconscious. But years of tension and desire spiral more fiercely between you. It’s energy that demands release. And you don’t want to wait another second.

“God,” he groans hard, collapsing gently into you. As he presses forward against you, the twitching swell of his erection pushes into your bare thigh. You slide your palms down the meat of his chest and find his mouth again, kissing him with searing intent.

“Look at you,” he rasps into your mouth, gripping hard at the weighty skirt of your beaded gown. “You’re a goddamned vision in this, you know that?”

You pull back to look at him, raw sexual energy briefly dispersed by his tender confession. For a long moment you sit there, panting at each other, remembering how much this is about to mean.

Fuck it. If he’s in, so are you.

“Help me get it off.”

You slide to your feet, pushing him back a couple of steps to accommodate you. As soon as you turn around he’s sliding a palm up your side, thumbing at the fabric to find its zipper.

“God damn,” he growls, leaning in to kiss a path down the column of your spine. He drops to one knee as he works the zipper down the back of the dress—sitting low, thanks to its open back—letting his mouth trail all the way to the waistband of your underwear. All the while, you brace a palm on the edge of your desk, trying your best not to implode.

This is more attention than you ever could have prayed for.

He peels the thin straps down your arms and shoves the whole mess to your feet. You’re bending down to unbuckle the straps on your heels, but he stops you with a hand on the back of your thigh.

“Leave ‘em on.”

His voice sends a sharp pang of arousal through your entire body. When he stands, trailing his fingers all the way up the back of your naked thigh and over the swell of your ass, the arousal disperses into a dull ache that settles in the pit of your stomach and throbs incessantly.

He digs his fingers into the flesh of your hip and turns you to face him. Your nipples are already peaking in the chill of your office, and he sucks a deep breath through his teeth as he slides his palms up your tummy.

There’s puckered scar tissue and new ridges on your abdomen, but there’s no pain when he traces brushes over them.

He pauses, looking down with dull shock tugging his brow. You’re holding your breath again, watching him circle the roughest part of your new scars with one tender thumb.

“It’s okay,” you plead, cupping his cheeks and forcing his eyes back to yours. There’s pain littering his gaze that you’re determined to dissolve, and you lean in to kiss him until he’s groaning into your mouth and drawing his hands toward your chest.

“God,” you breathe, goosebumps betraying you as they race beneath his fingers. Katsuki watches your face as he dips his head, pushing your breasts together and laying kisses between them.

“Please,” you whimper, reaching forward and settling a hand over the front of his pants. You palm the shape of his cock through the pressed wool and he flinches, biting gently into your tender flesh.

“Katsuki,” you pant, squeezing and rubbing the hard swell in a gentle, heady rhythm as you set your ass on the edge of your desk again. “I need you.”

“Jesus,” he curses, dropping his hands and reaching desperately for his tie. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me before I even get my cock out, sweetness.”

It’s the dirtiest thing he’s ever said to you. And it shows. You’re a shivering, lustblown mess already, but the petname that falls from his lips is enough to make you whimper.

He shrugs out of his shirt and pushes you further onto the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you and pushing your thighs apart with strong fingers.

“Always kinda wanted to do this in here,” he confesses with that cocky smirk that’s always made a hummingbird out of your heart.

But Katsuki doesn’t give you too much time to swoon over his pretty words, kissing a path up the inside of one plush thigh and nipping at your sensitive flesh. He helps you brace your heels against the rug and lift your hips, peeling your underwear off and rucking it down your knees. There’s something very naughty about the way it feels to settle your bare ass on your polished desk.

But there’s something even naughtier about the way it feels to have Katsuki on his knees in front of you.

He pushes your thighs apart again, harsher this time, and settles your knees over his shoulders. You’d like to ride the wave of self-consciousness that threatens to crest when his breath ghosts over the folds of your heated sex.

He pushes higher for a moment, taking your sides in his hands and drawing lovely little kisses down the rough length of your scar. You push self-consciously at his head, making him pull pack and settle a hand over the flesh instead. He tilts his chin up, shooting you a look so filled with guilt and sorrow it nearly shatters the moment.

He wasn’t there for the pain. And as he kisses back down to your hips and thighs, you let yourself hope that this will be enough to make up for it on both sides.

But then he leans in and licks a long stripe up your cunt and the groan that echoes from his chest makes it hard to do anything but cum on the spot.

“Fuck,” you sigh wantonly, letting your head fall back as you brace your palms on the wood behind you. Your fingertips dig into the surface and he settles into an easy rhythm, slipping his arms under your thighs and tugging you tight to his face.

He’s not shy with his voice, either, grunting and sighing into your pussy with every stroke of his tongue. The noises double your pleasure almost immediately, coupled with the obscene slurps that vibrate all the way up your spine.

It doesn’t take long at all for him to find that tender little spot, the perfect direction from which to swirl his tongue against your clit. It’s obvious in the way your legs go tight around the sides of his head, the way you shiver and cry and clap a hand to the back of his head.

He grunts hard into your body when your fingers rake through his hair, harder still when your tense thighs press the narrow points of your heels into the flesh of his back.

“Katsu,” you whimper, already fucked out and tender like you’ve never been for him, “I’m gonna cum. Fucking shit, I-I’m gonna…”

He takes your warning like a hit, leaning more fiercely into you, keeping his rhythm with intense precision. Later, you’ll try not to think about why he’s so good at this. But right now, all you can think about is the way your pleasure rears up and crashes over you, sending loud gasps and breathy mewls of ecstasy from your chest as you squeeze his head and pull his hair and roll your hips shakily into his persistent mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” he snarls, sitting back on his haunches and swiping a palm over his flushed lips. He looks up at you, rubbing your thigh with one free hand as you come down panting from your ecstatic high. Between his legs, his cock juts obscenely down one thigh of his suit pants, and he palms himself shamelessly as he gets to his feet, taking in every inch of your pleasure-soaked self.

“You’re gonna make me cream my fuckin’ pants someday,” he chides, fumbling with his belt and impatiently shucking his pants. His undershorts follow closely, and you’re barely on your feet again before he takes you by the shoulders and turns your back to him.

“C’mere.” He slides a hand under one of your thighs, hitching it gently onto the edge of your desk and coming up tightly behind you. The brush of his knuckle against your ass proves that he’s stroking himself, and the tip of his stiff cock leaves a little print of wet precum on the back of your leg.

“Please,” you moan, still hazy and shaken from your first orgasm. Still endlessly needy, though, when Katsuki’s involved. “God, baby, just fuck me already.”

“Fuckin’ hell, you can’t say shit like that,” he groans, twitching behind you. “It’s like you don’t know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

He braces a hand on your bare hip and then you feel it, the tip of his drooling cock pressing up between your slippery folds. It’s enough to make you whine and arch your back, wiggling your hips impatiently against his.

It’s enough to make Katsuki lose it.

“Shit,” he growls, gripping the fat of your hip and pushing forward, sliding home with one smooth thrust. He bottoms out inside you right away, buried perfectly in your belly and making you feel every inch.

“Baby—” you start to breathe, but he doesn’t waste time. Katsuki reaches around and lays his palm flat on your sternum, pulling you back against him. He keeps his other hand braced on your hip for leverage, dropping his mouth to the crook of your shoulder while he starts to thrust.

All you can do is keep your knee planted on the edge of your desk and try not to scream as he fucks you in steady, long thrusts, lapping and sucking all along the side of your neck while his hand roams over your chest and thumbs your nipple. Whatever hairstyle you’d left the house with has come long undone by now and you’re sure that if your makeup wasn’t smudged before, it’s certainly not going to survive the drool and sweat and heat that he’s forcing through you with every push of his hips.

The slap of his body against yours fills the space, punctuated only by your harsh pants and quiet whines of pleasure. Katsuki’s fingers dig harshly into your hip, gripping you tighter each time he anchors himself back into your fluttering cunt. Your walls are clamping ruthlessly around him, but he doesn’t miss a beat, slipping that free palm away from your nipples and down your belly to strum rhythmically at the swell of your stiff clit.

“I love you,” he grunts breathlessly behind you, and the raw truth behind it brings a rush of warmth to your chest you can’t ignore. You turn your head sharply towards him, pushing your forehead to his and feeling every beat as his breathing becomes laboured.

His body’s growing tight behind yours, his thrusts losing some of their impeccable rhythm as his brow knits against yours. He’s concentrating hard—holding back, you realize—and you reach down to cover his hand that braces your hip, giving it a relenting squeeze.

“Baby,” you plead. “Let go for me, baby, I can feel it.”

“God,” he mutters. “No—fuck, gonna make you—with me, sweetness.” Your body is clenching in preparation for your own climax already, and the fact that he can even pick up on it shouldn’t surprise you.

“I’m there,” you promise. “I’m there, Katsuki, fuck, just cum for me. Please.”

His arms tighten around you, seizing you hard against his heaving chest. You lean forward and seal your mouth against his, kissing him as he loses control and cums with a shout that echoes at the back of your throat.

He grabs your ass in one hand and fucks madly into you, spurting warm handfuls of cum into your belly and biting down hard on your lower lip. The erratic twitch of his fingers on your still-aching clit and the warm release inside you is enough to bring you to another tight, simpering little peak—not as powerful as the first one, but just as significant.

He stays behind you for a long moment, pinning you to the desk while he goes soft inside you. Finally he peppers kisses down the back of one shoulder and steps away from you, already smoothing his hair and taking in the image of you, in nothing but your heels, dripping with his cum.

The first of many, you let yourself hope, as you turn to carefully face him.

“I guess we missed the countdown,” you quip, reaching for your discarded panties. Navigating the strappy thing seems a great deal more complicated now that it’s not Katsuki tearing them off you.

He smirks at you in a way that does not make it easier to concentrate on the task at hand. Especially since he’s watching you struggle, easily buttoning himself into his now-creased shirt.

“I didn’t miss a thing.”  

He’s already half-clothed by the time you get your underwear on again, stooping to collect your delicate dress from the floor and thumbing the sequins that pepper its surface. His smirk has dissolved into another pensive look as he examines the cloth.

“If I’d known,” he tells you, pressing the scratchy fabric into your hands, “I never would’ve—”

You lean up and push your mouth to his, soft and loving and just enough to silence him.

“I know.”

Once Katsuki’s got the rest of his clothes on, he helps you carefully into your dress and gets behind you one more time to help you zip it. He can’t stop kissing you even for a minute, peppering his lips over your back, neck, arms. He turns you around and takes your hands, kissing the backs of each palm with devotion that, if you stop and think about it, you’ve seen in his eyes a thousand times before.

“You’ll make it up to me,” you promise good naturedly, letting him slide his arms around your waist. He looks at you again, diligent and honest.

“I will.”

“Good.”

You slide your hands up his sleeves of heart-stealing midnight blue, smiling so big it ought to hurt. You tilt your head toward the door, giving your chin a little jerk as you squeeze his biceps through the pressed wool.

“For a start,” you say, daring to lean a little closer while he’s still feeling tender, “how about another dance?”