#bohemian f

[frikatilhi]

Hello i am so sorry but i have to inform you that every time i see you in my notes i think of these🫢

Xxx funzige gedachten

Ah, I see my high school yearbook photo has finally leaked

[damnitiloveyou]

I don't care at all about Frank Sinatra but unless DiCaprio has a singing ability we've never seen he has no business being in a Sinatra biography. Stop casting people who cannot sing in biographies of musicians. If they cannot Walk the Line that shit then cast someone who can.

[thecoochiefairy]

soon az i get home. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.8K word count. blackfem!reader, r&b artist coded! onyankopon, grumpy! onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, size kink, black woman, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, lil bit of aggressive talk, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ reference to the title, this song did inspire this fic. teehee.

𝓐ᥫ᭡ :: onyankopon pays you a visit when he touches down in the city.

visual. visual. visual.

SHINE N’ JAM LATHERED YOUR FINGERS AS YOU TOOK A FINAL SWIPE TO YOUR CLIENTS HAIR. Bohemian box braids had been the style of choice, 613 the full color from her permanently dyed scalp. It wasn’t a color you would’ve chosen for yourself, but it looked beautiful along her chocolate brown skin. She pulled it off flawlessly.

“Niggas wouldn’t know what to do with me if I could pull off being a blonde,” you sigh, giving a light smile as you’re on the final braid, your fingers moving effortlessly against the hair being pulled between your knuckles.

“They barely know what to do with me as it is,” she playfully rolled her eyes, “How much longer to go?” 

As she held her phone up, you took a peek in the mirror, able to tell she was on FaceTime. No doubt with her man again.

“I’m on my last braid, babe. Promise,” you reassure, knowing you’d said that before. You had a habit of creating more spaces along your clients scalp, unable to finish your work until you felt that the hair looked entirely full.

“You sure?” 

She smirked at you through the side view mirror, her brown eyes twinkling, “The last time you said that, I had to call off work.”

It had only been about six months since you began doing house calls, meaning you were more relaxed in the comfort of your condo—but that didn’t mean you had to drag with your appointments.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know I went over my time a bit. I just want you to feel…” you turn her chair towards the illuminating mirror, mahogany brown wood wrapped along the outside of the LED lights, “Pretty, hm? Tell me you like it since you wanna complain so much.”

“You want to hear that I love it so desperately,” she smiled, standing up from the chair to inspect herself. She didn’t bother with a cape anymore, her black tank showing off her collarbone and arms. The braids fell just behind her shoulders, “You know I love it. Always do.”

She glances back as you begin sweeping strands off the floor, raising an eyebrow, “You’ need help cleaning up for the night?”

“No, no—you’re fine,” you shake your head, “I got one more client coming. Asked me to squeeze him in,” you briefly explain. 

You can feel her gaze against you, raising your eyes to a smirk as you say, “What, girl?”

“One more client, huh?” she folded her arms over her chest, the smirk still there, “Girl, please. It’s after ten,” she lightly laughed, “Who is it?”

You roll your eyes with a sigh. She was one of your regular clients, and you talked like sisters. You couldn’t help but be honest. 

“Look, don’t go opening that big ass mouth. It’s Onyankopon, okay? He still comes back down to get his hair braided by me.”

Everyone in New Orleans knew him—he’d actually been successful in making it out of the city, becoming a world renowned R&B artist. You’d been braiding his hair up for years, keeping the relationship you had with him extremely private as he didn’t want anyone ruining your privacy.

“Onyankopon?—You lying right now,” she gawked, slapping a hand over her mouth, “Nah, I got to take a picture—I promise you I won’t tell nobody,” she bit her bottom lip, “I promise!”

You rolled your eyes, “Girl, no. He doesn’t want people to know his location in the city—he hates that,” you take some Lysol, spraying down the chair.

“Just one picture, beloved, please? I’ll give you—I’ll pay you,” she took her wallet out, shuffling through her cash, “I know the man is finer in person. You be trying to be so secretive with these Niggas—“

She pauses, “Hollon’—y’all got something going on? That’s why I can’t get no picture?”

“Girl, what? No,” you scrunch your nose, “I just do the man’s hair,” you began pulling out the products you needed for the upcoming appointment, now hiding your face from your client.

You wouldn’t say you had a thing with him. Your relationship started the moment he DM’d you. He said he remembered you from high school and asked you to be his braider—he also mentioned you were pretty—but that wasn’t relevant to the situation. With each appointment, you never treated him as if he was some celebrity. He was just…Onyankopon. He liked that about you.

“Aht, aht,” she shook her head, “If it isn’t nothing with that man, lemme’ get a peek then!”

You rolled your eyes, “Now you ain’t getting shit. I’ll see you in five weeks,” you shooed her behind with your hands, pressing the elevator within your condo.

“Whatever, hoe.” 

She stepped on the elevator, looking back at you with a smirk, “You can kiss that tip goodbye!” 

Then she was off, the doors closing behind her. You finally had a moment of peace. You allowed the instrumentals of Brent Faiyaz’ Wasteland to thrum along your living room as you cleaned, suddenly feeling a sense of anxiety. You don’t know why you feel yourself becoming so nervous due to the previous conversation you had—but you felt your stomach bubbling at the thought of the elevator doors opening with him on the other side. You’d never felt like this before.

Then, your phone rings. Your eyes glance down—ONY—it reads, and you have to swallow down the racehorse running within your mind as you mindlessly answer, “Hello?”

“You know I’m coming, right?”

 A deep, monotone voice that’s smooth like butter spoke through the phone.

You almost roll your eyes, “I’m aware, Onyankopon. C’mon, boy. I’m getting sleepy.”

A deep chuckle fills your ear from through the phone, “I bet yo’ ass gon’ stay up for me though.”

You hear the elevator ding and a slow creak as the two metal doors begin to open, the phone and your hand slightly falling as you glance over to the tall figure entering your condo. He’s dressed in a sable jersey with cargo pants, the oversized top still able to show the silhouette of his muscular frame. The tattoos that litter across his arms pop under the lights of your home, silver chains along his neck that match with the watch on his wrist. He smells like a mixture of musk and tonka bean—his fro is sprawled around his head, jaw locked as mint gum is trapped in between his full dark pink lips. 

You sigh in reply to his words as you hang up the phone, “Imma’ do what I need to do to make my money, you know that.”

He shut the elevator doors behind himself, “I know your ass finna’ charge me extra for me being late,” he chuckled, walking towards the chair. He paused in his steps for a moment, eyes raking over your body, “What’s up, baby?”

Baby. It was a simple term of endearment he used, an accent prolific with that specific word. Your eyes run over him—the ink on his face, the goatee and facial hair along his jaw and cheeks, even with his hair sprawled everywhere— he still looked good. 

“Hey,” you give him a faint smile, “Was getting here okay? No paparazzi?” You tease. 

“Nah, not tonight, at least. They been on my ass though,” he huffed, “A nigga can’t even go get a carton of milk without somebody following me.”

“They’re just excited, Ony,” you give a soft laugh, reaching into your drawer of supplies as you pull out a rat tail comb, “Did you wash your hair already?”

He nodded to show you he had, sitting down on the forest green chair. You never understood how someone like him could be so intimidating, his gaze being enough to make you crumble on the spot.

On the other hand, sometimes he wondered if you knew what you looked like. Strawberry red hair falling in layers down your back, no middle or side part within the style—it just flowed wherever you went. Your army green baby tee and matching drawstring yoga pants that clung to your body, and you always scented bergamot with a milky vanilla. The cute way your black square glasses always tipped at your golden nose ring, it made you so— pretty. 

“Why are you in town anyways? You got’ a show or something?” You ask him, going over to your kitchen island, washing your hands of the previous grease and hair products used on your last client.

“Doing a lil’ sum’ at the Smoothie King center, nothing too crazy. I’m surprised you ain’t hear about that,” he glanced towards where you’d been, only able to see the back of your head along the mirror, “But you stay under the rock. I ain’t even gon’ hold you.”

You come up behind him as you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I ain’t mean it like that— I just hadn’t checked your socials since you texted me asking for an appointment,” you apologize, not trying to seem indifferent to his status, even if you knew he didn’t care about that.

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a small smile, “You always apologizing,” he muttered, reaching his hand into his pocket, “You needa’ stop doin’ that. I know you got me when I come here. I ain’t tripping on that.”

Your dark lashes flutter, your reflexes pushing your glasses closer up against your face as you feel your cheeks becoming warm. You instinctively dig your fingers into his scalp, pulling at the soft coils to assess his hair, “You’ still tender headed?”

He smacked his teeth before giving a small wince at the sting, “You’ don’t see me about to cry?” He glared, “You a pain,” he huffed, tilting his head to look back up at you, “Why you always tryna hurt a nigga?”

You roll your eyes, “Ony, please. It’s only been two months since you last saw me,” you stare blankly through the mirror, mentally preparing for the fight he always gave before you actually started.

“I don’t like you no more. You hate me. You tryna test me,” he began, going down a small list of your wrongdoings, “I’mma’ find another braider. You want me to feel pain.” 

He saw the look in your eyes, his large hands already gripping the handles of his seat. Every appointment was like this, and you knew it. He got comfortable around you—more than he should’ve—maybe it was because you grew up around each other in high school. He knew you—and you knew how to be patient with his ass.

You flip the rat tail comb in your fingers, “You need the teddy bear I give my babies that can’t handle getting their hair braided?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ getting on my nerves already, boy.”

“I ain’t no damn boy,” He gave you a stern look—but it only got you to smirk. He grumbled under his breath, turning his head back towards the mirror, “Do yo’ thang.”

You begin parting his hair into six straight backs, PARTYNEXTDOOR 4 now playing each song throughout the album, humming quietly in the background. You were always efficient with your fingers, swapping product in between his scalp the millisecond after you parted. He was sensitive when it came to his head, but after about ten minutes, his jaw clenched as his eyes closed, relaxing under your touch. Sometimes he’d even fall asleep, and you’d just adjust to how he laid in that moment. 

You ask him, “You’ excited for the show?”

Though his eyes were closed, he nodded his answer, a low hum in his throat. You honestly loved when he got like this—his head would drop to the side, allowing you to braid easier. He trusted you. 

“They gon’ go crazy,” he mumbled, the corner of his lip lifting up in a smirk.

“I’m sure,” you muse, “The women love your big headed ass.”

“The niggas fuck with me too,” he smiled, opening an eye to look over at your reflection in the mirror, “You don’t like me?” 

You glance at his opened eyes through the mirror, still continuing to perfect the parting spaces in his head, envisioning the style as you softly reply, “I like you. You know that.”

He was always able to see the way you held back your smile, but his grin only widened as he looked at you. 

“I know yo’ ass love me,” he began, “All up in my hair, touchin’ me and shit.”

“Not too much,” you laugh, “I touch you cause you pay me to. Them’ girls outside would braid you’ up for free, I don’t play like that,” you smack your lips, “You’ seen your family since you been here?”

His grin faltered in the slightest, the question souring his mood. You’d grown to learn it was a sensitive subject—especially for a young man who wanted the world, but only had a couple people in his corner. You could see the way his facial features turned stern, Onyankopon chewing on the gum in his mouth before he opened his eyes, looking in the mirror to answer. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “Spent some time with momma before she had to go to work. I got to visit my grandma for a little bit too. She always askin’ about you.”

“Bout’ me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I thought you ain’t tell nobody you came over here?” 

But that wasn’t what you really wanted to say. It made your face a bit warm to know he’d mentioned you to his family. So you clear your throat, knocking the warmth of your face away as you correct, “I ain’t know your mawmaw remembered me.”

“‘Course she remembered yo’ ass,” he grinned at the sight of you blushing—he always did manage to make you do that. 

“Always said you was built like a grown woman, pretty in the face. Real smart, she knew you’ was gon’ be somebody.”

“She’s sweet,” you giggle, “I’m sure she thought I was one of them’ fast tailed girls tryna get your attention.”

“She knew better than that. When did you ever try to get my attention?” He challenged, staring you in the eye. It was a question he’d always had on his mind, but the fact that it finally came from his mouth made the words almost feel tangible.

You think about the question for a moment, beginning to work on the braid closest to the shell of his ear. You pull his head back a bit to start at the root, your scent wafting along his face as you hum, “Mmm, I always thought you were cute. But you know you’re cute, you didn’t need another girl in line to tell you that. I wasn’t tryna’ be a groupie. But you always had a nice voice, and loved the spotlight. It was meant for you.”

He was a grown ass man—nearly nearing thirty, which had passed the age of embarrassment. But you could see the slight tinge on his cheeks, his ears flushing red for a moment before his mouth curved into a grin. 

“You like me, huh?” He raised a brow, looking down into his lap to hide the smile on his face. That’s when he noticed the time on his phone, glancing up into the mirror, “Damn,” he huffed, “I’m bout’ to be here all night wit’ you. You needa’ get faster.”

“If I go faster it’s gonna hurt,” you remind him, looping the hair in your fingers just a tad bit tighter, watching as he grimaced in response.

"Ayo!" He flinched, reaching back to try and pry your fingers off his head. You were quick to let go in response, but it proved your point. 

“You don’t got’ to pull like that…” he groaned.

“You gon’ let me do my job?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ being irritating. I’m not the one who came over ten at night, Onyankopon. You’ got somewhere to be?”

He smacked his lips again, “I was just sayin’...“ 

In truth, he wasn't trying to leave your place immediately—he wanted to be around you. You always seemed to know exactly where to touch him. That, and your perfume always made his head spin.

"You gon' tell me who you dating, or you got a line of niggas?" He countered, his gaze meeting yours through the mirror.

“Nobody at the moment. I’ve been too busy with work,” you reply shyly, finishing up his first braid with a tight end, moving on to the second patch of hair, “My male clients usually have girlfriends—who want to be on the phone the entire time to watch me,” you chuckle.

“So that means you ain’t gon’ give me no love?” He grinned, reaching a hand behind him to press against your thigh, squeezing it gently. Your entire body shivered at his warm palm along your skin, the hand nearly wrapping against your entire leg. 

"A nigga just want to talk to you, be on you. You be’ all shy and shit," he grumbled, "Maybe I will find another braider for real, yo' ass stay bein' mean to me."

You giggle at his touch, even if it makes you nervous—maybe a little horny. You smacked his hand away, “So you flirt with all the people that work for you? That’s what I’m getting from this.” 

“Nah. Just you,” he replied without missing a beat, a confident smile on his face. “C’mon, say somethin’.”

You didn’t even need to look into the mirror to know he was staring at you—that alone made your insides twist. 

A loud sigh left your lips as you shook your head, “You’re gonna mess around and get yo’ feelings hurt. I’m just doing your hair, Onyankopon. You’ll have thousands of girls to choose from at your show tomorrow.”

“We ain’t talking about them. We talkin’ about you.”

He wanted you to look at him. But he knew you wouldn’t do such a thing until you finished his hair. 

So he relented, pulling out his phone to check his messages—there wasn’t much to see, though. A silence had become between the two of you, comforted by the music playing in the back. His fans had been bombarding his team for the past few days, ever since the news of his new album came out. And, sure, he’d be surrounded by girls tomorrow. But those girls weren’t going to be you.

“You gon’ be at my show since you know about it now, right?”

You were now on the fourth braid, pulling his head back a bit to look at his face. Your eyes narrow, almost having the urge to roll them as you say, “You know I don’t have a ticket, Ony. I’ll watch it after it’s posted.”

He looked up to see the scowl on your face, a laugh escaping his lips, “Don’t even worry about all that. I don’t want you watchin’. I need you there.” 

When you reach out to knock the side of his head, he catches your wrist, bringing it to his lips to plant a sloppy kiss there. Your heart hammered beneath your chest, an unsteady thump resounding through your ribcage.

“You smoked before you got here?” You question, “You’ real touchy—feely today.”

He grinned in reply, “Nah I didn’t, maybe you’ just real fine today. Every day.”

He was laying it on thick. The worst part? That it might’ve been working. You’re now on the final braid, your body unfortunately hot, and a throb between your legs at the sight of him. He was murmuring the music to himself, his deep voice now ringing in your ears.

“You want me to line you up after I’m done braiding, or are you gonna do it yourself? I bought new clippers,” you ask softly, fingers swiftly pulling his hair into a neat bind.

He looked at your reflection, watching as your fingers moved swiftly through his hair. The feeling was pleasant, the sound of your voice even more so. 

“You always do it fine, so yeah,” he murmured. 

The next time you’d reach for his hair, he’d stop you—his hand cupping your wrist to bring it down to his chest. 

“I appreciate you, you know that right?” His voice was low, but you could still hear the sincerity beneath his words. He was staring at you now, his eyes warm.

You blink a bit at his words, and the sincerity makes you smile innocently. 

“I know that,” you nod, “I’m glad you trust me enough to keep coming back.”

His free hand came to cup the side of your cheek, feeling your soft skin beneath his tough palm, "You got some soft skin," he murmured as he stroked your cheek. His thumb lightly brushed your lips, "Pretty lips too, y'know that?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest at this point. He’s fine, full lips moisturized, goatee and facial hair aligned perfectly along his face, jaw structure deadly for him to have his hair braided back. His brown skin was clear—fucking hell. 

You give a nervous laugh as you try to pull yourself back, “…You’ still got one more braid, Ony.”

"You sure you wanna keep going?" He questioned, "You lookin' like you want something else right now."

Your mouth parts a bit at his words, but quickly closes as you try to figure out your reply. You then say, “Yeah, I’m almost finished. I know you’re getting antsy in my chair,” you pull yourself back behind him, quickly maneuvering into finishing off his final braid.

He had to give it to you—you were hard to crack. But that didn’t mean you were good at hiding it. You watch his face become more serious than you’d ever seen, it’s a mixture of something—admiration, lust, need. 

"Yeah, aight. Line my shit up. We gon’ talk.”

You can feel your nerves bundling at the pit of your stomach as you finish off—a tension now palpable in the air. Clippers buzz along his hairline as you lean yourself  close to his chest to get a good angle, your body feeling warm as you’re close to him—you adjust yourself as you softly say, “…Sorry.”

“Nah, you good. Come closer,” is what he says instead, reaching a hand out to grasp your thigh. He grips you gently, but firmly, to get you closer to him. You’re in between his legs now, which he spreads a bit further so you can settle in.

Your hands are trembling. You usually had no issues with this part of your service, but the tension was becoming heavier second by second. You exhale a bit, breathless in your nervous giggle as you confirm, “I’m gonna put some oil on once I’m done—loosen up your braids a bit, okay?”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, voice smooth and low. 

Slowly but surely, he begins to rub his hand back and forth against your thigh. Eventually, it begins to move towards the inside of your thigh, rubbing at the flesh there. You bite your lip, trying to fight back the desire to whimper. 

“You’ quiet now, what’s up with that?”

He’s really getting to you. The simple touch makes your eyes want to roll back. You admit, “Just tryna’ focus while you’re being distracting.”

“I ain’t done nothin’ but rub on you, you’ really that sensitive?”

His lips brush the side of your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. “How I look, mama?”

You wanna pull back from him, but you’re unable to. You quickly snatch the clippers back as you sit them on the small table beside the chair, giving him a warning look as you caution, “Ony.”

“Why you sayin’ my name like that?” he grunts, fingers gripping the back of your thigh, holding you there. 

“C’mere—Lemme’ taste you.”

You breath hitches at his words, and your mouth is only centimeters from his. Your hand finds its way to the fabric of his shirt, gripping the cotton fiber as your voice is weak, “C’mon, Ony. Stop playing.”

His eyes are hooded at this point, “Who playin’?” 

His mouth captures your bottom lip, slowly dragging it between his teeth. You actually whimper at the feeling, your thighs squeezing together beneath your shorts. Pulling you fully onto his lap, he kisses you, not letting you pull away as he cups the back of your head to keep you there. His tongue is rough inside of your mouth, a satisfying hum heavy against your lips as he makes out with you.

You’re shuddering against his mouth, a frown pulled at your eyebrows at how good his kiss is. It makes your entire body thrum, clutching the material of his shirt even tighter. It’s like you’re having an orgasm—all he’d done was kiss you. 

The heat of his skin, the smell of his cologne is all intoxicating. He’s pulling your head back so that he can kiss your throat. His lips are smooth as he’s sucking the skin—your body feels like jelly. 

Your hand clutches the side of his neck, “W—Wait Ony…mmph,” ” you pant. 

When his mouth comes back down to meet yours, he kisses you deeper, groaning into your mouth. You attempt to keep him in one place, but you know you don't have the strength to keep him from having his way with you.

You gasp softly as he tugs up your baby tee, brown nipples dropping straight into his mouth the moment he drags his tongue out to catch them. Your eyes lock down to the way his mouth moves—it’s effortless. 

You’re latching along his hair, trembling above him as you suck air down your throat, “T—They’re s��sensitive…” he’s lapping your breast into his mouth, your skin becoming hot on his taste buds.

“Got a nigga acting greedy as fuck.” 

He’s almost mad at the sight, sucking harshly and letting your nipples drop out his mouth, milliseconds later catching your entire breast back in between his full lips. The skin is starting to bruise, your legs squeezing against his lap as a deep relaxation comes over you, a warming tingle in your spine.

You were writhing on top of him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he sucked and nibbled on your nipples— you’re trembling, “Oh god... oh fuck..." you’re panting as if you’d run a marathon, biting your lip as you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter between your legs, “Don’t…stop…”

His mouth was almost aggressive at this point, a loud popping sound leaving his lips each time he pulled away. The music within the room is dousing your brain. 

His voice was low and raspy, "You look’ soooo muhfuckin' sexy right now. Take all this shit off. Need you naked as fuck.” 

He reaches down between the both of you, pressing his palm against the front of your shorts, the contact making you whimper as he groans, “Ooh shit, pussy drenching them shorts—I know that shit glistening all pretty. Nasty ass bitch,” The heat continuously develops in between your legs, wetness creating more and more by the second. 

He starts rubbing his hand against you, back and forth, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. It’s making your head spin, your hips move with his hand, whining softly as he starts kissing you again, lips soft against yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.

Dark brown eyes stare into yours, his expression serious—intense. You jump as he slams his palm down on your ass, grunting, “Up,” your body complying as you stand halfway above him to remove your shorts, allowing your top to quickly follow— you’re now completely naked on his lap.

He’s nothing like you had before. With that, he dips his hands in between your legs to pull you back up in a standing position against the chair, palms locked against the back of your thighs as he scoots himself lower, tugging your body down so quickly that your entire pussy rubs against his jaw. 

A mixture between a deep chuckle and groan comes from his mouth as he’s already running his tongue chaotically against your clit. Your lower lip drops open as you gasp, pressing yourself into his arm to not fall, riding his face within the air.

His mouth was a mess as he grinds you down on his tongue, so deep in between your folds that he’s tasting himself. His tongue was strong, heavy, eyes closed as if your body was a rarity. Onyankopon’s facial hair was coated, dripping against your thighs as he eats you out. He was being lazy with it, almost too comfortable within the chair, hands digging into the back of your thighs as he forced himself deeper, nose pushing against your mound. He was choking on your pussy—but he was enjoying every single bit of it.

“Oh— my g—god!” you pant out, gasping in between, “Ony…ohshi—Ony!…” he’s bouncing you against his face, using his free hand to spank the skin of your ass, flesh shaking in his palm. You’re losing nerves in your brain, dropping your face down as you whimper, “You’ in my pussy, baby…fuck…”

“‘Could tell you ain’t never had a nigga eat you like this—shit a muhfuckin’ delicacy, I’m just slurping this shit the fuck up—fuckin’ love this shit," he said, moaning it, slurping, slurping, his voice was almost like a murmur, "Fuckkk, imma’ have you squirting on this big ass dick."

Onyankopon was growling against your clit, a wet noise coming from his lips as he sucked on you, his mouth covered at this point. His hands were grabbing at your thighs, spreading them apart so he could see your juices rolling down the skin.

There was a rhythm to it—his mouth moved like a metronome as if he were making a song, a steady beat as he eats you out.

He was almost high from the taste, his mouth watering as he lapped up everything you were giving him. His chin was daubed, tongue flicking up to catch a bit of the spit as he was using it to lubricate your pussy, trying to make it easier for his tongue to slide inside. Again, again. 

His tongue is long, rolling around from the bottom of your entrance all the way up to your clit. He's eating you like he loves you, mouth open, tongue sloppy, just groaning,  licking—you’re feeling faint. 

He was making a mess of your pussy. 

Your eyes are rolling at this point, a discomfort beginning to form in your legs from the way you’re hovered above him. But it’s all so good—you’re spinning. Shaking. Trembling. All of the above. 

“Ony….I t—think I’m cumming,” you softly cry, beginning to rotate your hips in a circle along his face as you weakly whine, grasping a hold of his hair as you whimper, “I—I’m c—cumming…”  

“I hear that gushy ass pussy, that bitch singing to me.” 

At that second—you hear yourself gush against his face, squeezing your thighs against his head, body shuddering like a harsh chill had taken a marathon against your spine. You’re robbed of time to come down from the orgasm, Onyankopon pulling you back down to sit along his lap as he grunts, “Come pull this dick out.”

You whimper in response, dipping your fingers into his pants nonetheless. Your acrylics graze against the hefty weight of his tip you feel for—and it’s big. 

You’re pulling, pulling for more than two seconds, watching as it slaps a little over his belly button. Dark pink, a beautiful brown matching his complexion. Your eyes widen a bit, the gasp your throat that wanted to release now caught in his palm as he’s holding you by your neck. 

He tugs you forward, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s nasty. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, letting your saliva run against the tip of your tongue, meeting with his mouth that makes him glare at you, “Freaky ass lil’ bitch, huh? I’m finna’ do you in witcho’ pretty ass. Come sit on this shit.” 

“Too big, Ony…” you whimpered before you thought about your words, knowing he was already arrogant. 

And you weren’t wrong for thinking that. His mouth twists in amusement against the shell of your ear, hand rubbing along the curve of your ass before smacking it, “You either gon’ bend over so I can watch my dick go in and out this pretty ass pussy, or sit that shit on me.”

Your eyes glance back down—his dick was standing straight up, swollen at the tip, thick veins running across the shaft, and a toned belly for you to grip onto. But you knew he wasn’t repeating himself. 

He murmurs, “Go slow, baby. I got you,” easing your anxiety, moving his hand around to the back of your neck, pulling you into the softest kiss he’d given you this entire time.

You adjusted your hips as you rubbed his tip along your folds throughout the kiss, mouth falling open as you whimpered again, his throat humming, nodding gently for you to continue. Your folds stretch apart as you begin sinking down, keeping yourself kissing him to distract from the immediate discomfort you feel. You pull your mouth back slightly to press your forehead against his, also holding the back of his neck as your breathing becomes chaotic, chest heaving a bit as you whisper, “…Oh my…” you suck in a breath, “goddd…” you drag your words so lowly, and he hears every syllable.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Why you’ squeezing’ my shit like that?” 

He’s cooing to you. His balls slap lightly against the weight of your ass, hearing the slick of your pussy as he pulls you back up. Onyankopon dips his fingers into your mouth, coating them before he lowers his hand to massage your bruised walls for a millisecond, making it easier to push his dick back in.

He helps ease you back down, fingers rubbing at the back of your hips as he drops you fully down his length. Your eyes clamped shut as you cried out, eyes rolling as you dragged out a whine, “Onyyy…” all while he sucked on the spot between your neck and collarbone, moaning into it to keep you open. 

You pull your face back to meet him, keeping your foreheads connected as he begins raising you halfway up, dragging you back down, dick disappearing between your thighs. Your arousal is splattering in between your skin stuck together, ripping apart each time you’re pulled back up, clapping as you come back down.

“This all you needed, needed this pussy played with. Shit pretty as fuck. Makin’ art on my dick.” 

He was getting used to the rhythm, leaning his head back against the seat to look at you. His hands were planted on the back of your thighs, the muscles rippling as he helped pull you back up before slamming you back down, his mouth open, eyes half-lidded.

He was watching you—The way you were crying out, the way you were cursing him out, the way you were begging for more, and the way you were fighting for breath.

He was watching it all—taking it all in. You were perfect. 

Each time you protested, “Babyyyy,” he tugged you down harder, the pressure rubbing against your pussy, the warmth of it making you shudder. He’s talking, “I hear you, Mama. Fuck, you drenching my shit.” 

His hands were firm against your hips, helping to guide you up and down. He was almost wrestling you, a dominant nature he had coming out the longer he fucked you. Your ass is applauding against his thighs, breasts bouncing, your mouth releasing breathless sounds you’d never heard before. It makes you feel like those final nerves within your brain were no more, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let him take you—pouting as you talk to him, “This your pussy baby…” you whine, softly crying, mewling the words to him. You’re making promises.

“That’s how you feelin’?”

He slides his palm against your asscheek, gripping the skin there as he moves his index finger over your hole, the feeling making you tense. You lean yourself forward a bit as he’s nudging the tip of it into you, using the rest of his fingers to keep you bouncing down. You whimper deeply, the pleasure and pain knocking you every which way as he’s filling you up in both places—he was trying to kill you.

Nonetheless, you keep yapping, “Your fuckin’ pussy, Daddy…gonna come to your show…”

You drag your tongue along his neck, sucking there petulantly as you look down, seeing as you cream on his length, coating the shaft white. You’re so horny, even if he was fucking you at this exact moment.

“No you not. Finna’ be sleep all day after this,” he grunts, “You creamin’ on my shit. Pretty as fuck.”

His hand wraps around the back of your neck to pull you down for another heated kiss, sucking the taste of yourself off your tongue. His other hand held you by the hip, moving you faster, finger thrusting in your hole deeper.

He’s strong—in lost time, he stands from the chair as he places your legs over his shoulders, taking a step forward to place you right along the mirror you used to show your clients their finished hairstyle. He was tugging at your neck, making sure you were locked in his arms as he began dropping you on his dick, making you squeal, a moan spilling from your lips as you whine, "Oh shittttt.” 

“Look at you, fuckin’ bad girl. Yeah, look at me, look at you, look at that shit gushing for me.”

He was pounding you from the bottom, his balls slapping between your folds, your arousal making the sound reverberate through the room. A feeling you never felt before surrounded your aura, a pleasure so good that you felt emotional, your eyes beginning to form tears as you suck in a breath, releasing as you sobbed, “Ugnh, fuck.”

He’s fucking you so hard that the mirror across began steaming up, showing only a faint outline of your body. You flick over to it, seeing the strawberry tresses of your hair sticking to your face, your expression ruined. 

Your mouth was dangerous as you writhed, “Ony,” a way that was close to a shout, talking through each thrust, “Love. This. Dick. Baby…”

His mouth came to yours to stifle the sounds, hand clamped around the back of your neck. His teeth were scraping your lips, his tongue slipping inside to fight yours as he’s pounding you in place, the sensation making you shake.

"You gon' cum? Gonna squirt all over his dick? Pussy gettin’ tight as fuck…damn…” he groans, locking his eyes down to see himself go in and out, in and out, in…and out.

“Gonna squirt all over you,” you sniffle in a small gasp, unaware of your own mouth at this moment, “Harder—please…” 

His mouth was a mess, tongue thick and long, lapping against your neck and collarbone, sucking the skin there, his mouth wide open, slurping the taste of you up. He squeezed your hips so hard that you were crying out. He was slamming himself into you, a groan of pleasure spilling from his lips as he buried his face against your throat, sucking it up as he grunted, “Finna’ have you at every fuckin’ show. Up in the private rooms, gon’ fuck you after every song.”

You’re gone, becoming entirely silent as your eyes are filled with tears that wouldn’t stop, nodding your head to every word as you hold onto him. The silence, listening to the sounds of your skin coming together in music, a sound rips from your throat before you could realize—pure bliss, a scream projecting out as you squirt, the arousal spouting, pushing him far enough for his tip to now be halfway in. Your body feels exhausted, eyes back into staring inside your head as you cum. 

And it broke him, he was moaning into your throat—mouth open, eyes closed, pulling himself out as his tip rubbed against your inner thigh, cumming against the warm skin. Your body was tired, exhausted, satisfied. 

You struggled to keep yourself wrapped along his neck. As the both of you caught your breath, you brought your eyes up to him, using the last bit of strength you had to give him a soft peck against his lips. Onyankopon couldn’t help himself—You looked so pretty at this moment, yet the innocent kiss makes him chuckle lowly, holding you up more as he questions, “You aight’?”

You press your face within his neck as you murmur, “Mhm,” your eyes feeling heavy, “Don’t think imma’ make your show, Ony…” you pout sleepily.

He laughs at how cute you were being—it’s a stark difference from your usual reserved demeanor. 

“It’s straight, baby. You’ll be on my mind the moment I get there—that’s fasho.’” 

He pecks your forehead, “You want me to stay tonight?”

Your eyes won’t open at this point. You could figure out the meaning of this moment later. You just wanted to be wrapped in that damn scent of his—tonka bean.

“If you’ actually plan on sleeping, you can stay…” 

“Damn, no late night nookie?” 

“Onyankopon.”

“My fault. Night, shawty.”

[darkartscanada]

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[fayes-fics]

NSFW Alphabet for Benedict Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The A-Z of sexual experiences with Benedict Bridgerton.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, vaginal sex, sex acts, kink. Mentions of: oral sex (m to f, f to m), cum play, poly/bisexual experiences, sexual fantasies, voyeurism, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, public sex acts, vaginal fingering, breeding kink, dirty talk, masturbation, bondage, breath play, suspension/rope play, object insertion, sex toys, pegging, cock rings, sensory deprivation, blindfolds, sensory play, temperature play, period sex, pregnancy kink.

Authors Note: This is a version of the classic nsfw alphabet challenge. Template available here. I found this lurking in my Google Docs recently. I wrote it two years ago, but I still agree with it all. Enjoy! 🫶

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Benedict is the king of aftercare. As much as this artistic boy loves a bit of kinky play, what he loves even more is cherishing you after a vigorous session. He will cleanse your body, apply balm to any areas that need salving and wrap you in a loving embrace as you float down from your high. He loves to take soothing baths together and unwind with sensual touches and gentle kisses before climbing into bed, your bodies still damp, smelling like soap and radiating warmth from the hot water.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body parts of his own are his talented, artistic hands. Not only does he create beautiful art with them - including a private collection of nudes of you - but he knows exactly how to use his hands to please you. To not only soothe you through gentle touches or massage but also to get you off with his fingers buried deep inside you. 

His favourite body part of yours is your lips. He loves to watch your mouth move as you talk, the little smirks when you are amused, the way you bite your bottom lip when aroused. The way they taste and feel against his lips, and the way they look wrapped around his cock when you are taking him down as far as you can.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His favourite place for his cum to be is deep inside you. He doesn't have a particular fetish for seeing it on your body, despite being an artist. He would prefer to paint your skin with actual paint. The only exception was when you licked the cum off his fingers after you found him masturbating, and he couldn't stop thinking about it for days. To this day, when he masturbates, he still thinks about it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Benedict is full of surprises. One dirty secret he hasn’t told you yet is that he fantasises about you getting fucked by another man while he watches. There’s only one person he would trust to be intimate with his partner: his older brother, Anthony. One day, he might pluck up the courage to ask if you’re amenable to it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Before meeting you, he had many years of varying levels of sowing his wild oats. His hedonistic nature has drawn him into bohemian crowds, so he has experiences of threesomes and plenty of flings with all genders. He knows what he is doing with the female and male body but is never boastful about it, more enthusiastic about applying the knowledge he has gained and adapting it to your wants and desires.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything where he can watch your face, he loves to see all the little expressions you pull in the throes of ecstasy. So, face-to-face works best. But it doesn't necessarily have to be in a bed. In fact, he quite enjoys it anywhere and has the stamina to hold you up against a wall if you want it. He also loves taking you from behind in front of a mirror so he can see your face, and you can watch yourself being fucked by him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Benedict is a natural comedian and the king of the reactionary goofy face. So yes, humour during intimacy is a natural extension of his fun-loving personality. He loves to make you giggle in bed; after all, naked bodies and the noises they make can be funny, especially during sex. He loves to laugh with you, his nose buried into your neck as his rich laugh vibrates his chest against yours as you share an amusing moment. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

This boy has a beautiful head of chestnut hair but has surprisingly little body hair. You have to really search for the four tiny chest hairs he has. So he doesn't have a lot of hair down there (yes, it matches, with a slight gingery hue). Both modern AU and Regency trim a little to keep it neat—he appreciates the beauty of a well-maintained body.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

This man is an artistic soul and a true romantic to his core. Romance and intimacy are his sweet spots, and he is effortless in both. Depending on his mood, he can be filthy, romantic, funny or sometimes all three at once in the moment. He is always hyper-aware of your needs, intuiting them often before you know yourself. And he is a giver by nature, ensuring your satisfaction as well as his own. He is very loving and caring; he enjoys kissing a lot during sex.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He has a private stash of sketch (and, if modern, artsy photo) nudes of you and will use them to fuel his fantasies if you are apart. But when it comes close to the moment of coming, his eyes are screwed shut as he pictures you panting his name, knees splayed apart, his cock leaking down his own fist. The quintessential masturbating Benedict to me can be found in my fic Temptation, to be honest. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He enjoys powerplay and is a switch to his very core - he can take charge, but he enjoys submitting to you, too. He loves bondage but just light. He loves to tie you up in beautiful silks or his cravats. Either tying your hands together or sometimes to an object like a bedpost. He enjoys it when you tie him up, too, especially if it's with your stockings taken off your warm body, his eyes dilated, and his lips quivering as you tease him and then ride him.

He has a strong exhibitionist streak, and with your permission, he loves to finger you in public, especially during a theatrical or music recital. He loves to watch you try to conceal your reactions from those around you, watching you struggle to come quietly and then discreetly licking his fingers clean afterwards, just to tease you further.

Lastly, he never knew he had a breeding kink until he met you. But now… he wants nothing more than to come deep inside you, hold you down and tell you to take every last drop of his seed. 

L = Location (favourite places to ‘do the do’)

If he's honest, his favourite location is the plush daybed/chaise in the greenhouse he has repurposed as an art studio attached to the side of your home. Sometimes you will be modelling for him, and the urge overtakes him, and you will fuck right then. He loves to take you bent over the arm of the chaise or have you ride him, holding on to the arm of the chaise as he sucks your nipples. If he is working into the night as his muse strikes, he appreciates it when you come to visit him to take him to bed, but you usually end up right on that chaise, Falling asleep looking through the glass roof to the stars. He keeps pillows and blankets stored in a nearby ottoman for just such occasions.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You, really. Especially if you are being playful or just paying him loving attention. He loves good banter sometimes, but mostly, it's the sight of your smiling face and the way your pupils dilate when you look at him that really has him aroused. Especally when you voice your desires–just walk up to him and say you want to fuck and he is instantly putty in your hands and raring to go. The more details you whisper, the more turned-on he gets; he loves when you talk dirty.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

This man is a try-anything-once type of person who isn't quick to judge anything that may occur between consenting adults. He is, however, not into anything that involves inflicting lasting pain (beyond the sting of a good spanking) or drawing blood.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He LOVES oral, both giving and receiving. He will give and not expect reciprocation, but nothing makes him weaker than someone just dropping to their knees before him and taking him in their mouth. He is VERY skilled at oral too. Whoever gets to sit on that pretty face is one lucky person. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His usual pace tends towards slow and sensual, but sometimes when the need is great in both of you, there is nothing quite like a fast and rough fuck. Just breaking out into an alleyway behind a restaurant, pushing aside underwear and fucking so hard you both carry fingermarks and light abrasions from the wall.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

It's not his preference; he would prefer to indulge time in lovemaking, but he is always amendable, especially if you demand it, like sneaking away during an event. Modern Ben isn’t against climbing into the backseat of the car together and having a round if you just can't wait until you get home. That usually happens when he picks you up tipsy from a girls' night out, and you just can't resist hopping on board.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He is very open and willing to experiment. He will take some risks, yes, but only calculated ones that are consensual with his partner. He is always responsible if he is in a dominant role, if, say, undertaking breathplay or suspension during rope play. He willingly submits, too, loving being a switch. Semi-public sex with the risk you could get caught makes him so desperately horny; he will quietly beg in your ear to take you outside and fuck you against the garden wall mid-party. And you will let him, liking nothing more than his hot breath panting into your ear, your dress rucked up around your hips, as he makes your toes curl with breath-stealing thrusts.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Surprisingly good stamina; he can undoubtedly last as long as you need to be satisfied—every single time. He will need some refractory time between rounds, of course, but you have the ability to arouse him more than anyone else. One memorable night, he kept you up until dawn, eating you out while he recovered from each fucking session, ready to go again as soon as you come screaming on his tongue, ploughing his cock into you while you are still fluttering from your orgasm. You lost your voice that night from all the screaming.  

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

The Regency period was somewhat lacking in sex toys, but he is an inventive boy. He can find a use for many everyday objects in the pursuit of pleasure, including paintbrushes, mahl sticks, and even hairpins. Modern Ben has a few toys but considers them your joint toys as a couple. He will mostly use them on you, but once in a while, he will let you use a vibrating cock ring on him, and occasionally, yes, he will allow himself to be pegged by you with a special dildo just for him. Those days are very special for you, him giving you all his trust and body.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

This man was born to tease. Be it with filthy words, dirty promises or with his hands and tongue, he loves to drive you insane. One of his favourites is to blindfold you and engage in sensory play, running items like feathers or ice over your skin, teasing your senses until you are writhing and quivering. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is not theatrical, but he does make the most delicious low noises, and he moans so beautifully when you are riding him, his hands clamped around your hips. And, of course, there is LOTS of dirty talk. The man is a poet; he can and will spout knee-trembling filth as easy as breathing. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves to wait until you are so turned on that you are almost shaking before he will enter you. Body quivering, pussy leaking profusely, clinging to him and begging him in a raspy voice. He loves to arouse you to the point of mindlessness, babbling for him, for his cock… then he will grab your hips and thrust into you so deep and hard you cry out, scraping your nails down his back. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

The statue of David made flesh—broad shoulders and a trim waist, strong but lean. He is more lithe and less hirsute than Anthony or Colin. His skin is soft, pale and smattered with some freckles with downy hair on his surprisingly muscular thighs. Even in Regency, he keeps his pubic hair trimmed a touch, just neatly, not excessively. His cock, even unaroused, is appealing to look at. Although you mostly see it raring to go, red at the tip, leaking just a little for you. Not so enormous as to be intimidating but substantial enough in length and girth to make your eyes roll with pleasure when he pushes into you and feel so full when he’s buried in you, never failing to bring you off. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When you first get together it is intense, barely leaving the bed except to eat and cleanse. But as your relationship evolves, so does the sex. He will have sex every day if you want, but he can go a few days without before he may get a little too horny. He has no fear of sex when you are on your period, so if you are up for it, so is he. If you are apart for a few days, he will masturbate to the private collection of art he has drawn of you. Modern Ben will Facetime you for remote sexy times. When you are pregnant with all of his babies, he is VERY horny for your pregnant body and will have sex all the time, right up until you give birth. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He is out like a light. It’s actually quite endearing. He will get all like a sleepy cat after sex. He will curl into and around you and make little contented noises, then within seconds of kissing and bidding you goodnight, his breathing is deep and even. Luckily he doesn’t snore much at all. You bring him such peace and solace—he just wants you close, in his arms, and he is instantly asleep. 

masterlist • wips • taglist (must be following this blog to be tagged)

Benedict Taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[torasplanet]

❝𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝘿 𝙃𝙀 𝙂𝙀𝙏 𝙄𝙏 𝙒𝙀𝙏, 𝙄 𝙂𝙀𝙏 𝙄𝙏 𝙒𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙍.ᐟ❞

I. KUROKAWA + F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; you don't know if ran knows how to eat pussy or just doesn't want to but izana definitely wants to.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; smut, oral(f!receiving), cheating, mention of a threesome, pussy eating champ!izana, hair pulling, izanas a freak lmao, girlfriend stealer!izana, ran is kinda described as a dick, izana wanting to fuck you since forever, consensual phototaking, tenjiku!izana, praise, light degradation, petnames (doll, whore, pumpkin eater), teasing, prt 2 in works, actually came up with part 2 first, skin color not mentioned.

“Yo Izana!” You yelled from your spot on the ground with your eyes trailing up the fire escape stairs to the window the white-haired man sat on just staring out the window with Bohemian Rhapsody playing loudly from inside his apartment. He was in a tight-fitting white shirt and gym shorts and his hair was a bit unkept than usual as if he had just woken up from a nap.

His lilac gaze traveled down from the bright sky to you, you were in nothing but a hoodie and shorts, just something quick you threw on before coming here “Can I come up?” You asked tilting your head and squinting your eyes from the brightness of the sun shining on your face. His lilac eyes stayed focused on you before he gestured his head inside.

A smile grew on your face as you watched him throw his legs inside of the apartment and turn his back toward you yet leaving the window open. You hurried up the rusty fire escape stairs feeling it quake with each fast and heavy step you took the metal of it peeling off and falling on your sneakers and onto the ground below. You reached the window and poked your head inside of the window.

You had come here to get away from your boyfriend, Ran. He was really pissing you off with his whole nonchalant act he always put up for every single thing especially when you guys were arguing. You didn’t even have to be arguing for him to do that, you could just be having a serious talk and his attitude would turn it into an argument.

All you wanted was to ask him about why he never goes down on you and he just laid there in his bed acting like he didn’t give two shits about you blabbering “I don’t know…”s and “Later.” not even sparing you a glance. You should’ve listened when Rindou told you his brother was lazy and not to date him.

Even when you two did get together, Rindou still warned you and you should’ve listened then too because you were just starting to get a taste of how much ran could care. There wasn’t even a grape in that fruit’s basket.

Izana stood in the room near the small stereo holding a CD “What’re you here for?” The Kurokawa boy asked not even looking at you as you climbed inside his room.

Truth is you didn’t really know why you were here either. You’d only been to Izana’s house twice and once was with Ran and Rindou, The other was just because you were bored so coming here when you’re angry at Ran was the first time this had ever happened.

You had one idea in your head when you started walking out of your apartment, you needed someone to do what Ran didn’t and your feet carried you to Izana’s house and before you knew it, you were already here so might as well go along with it right? You weren’t really worried about whether Izana would go along with it or not because it was obvious he would.

From the moment you met Izana, he had his eye on you. Every time you stepped into his line of vision, his eyes would stay on you until you left and they would roam around your body and your face often finding interest in your lips or your legs. You were sure ran noticed but he never said anything so you weren’t going to say anything either. You definitely weren’t going to say how you kind of liked the eyes constantly on you.

“Just wanna talk to someone.” You said sitting down hesitantly on the edge of his bed watching as he finally turned around after putting up the CD “Isn’t that what Ran’s for?” Izana questioned tilting his head slightly with a look of amusement on his face but not yet smiling.

Izana sat on the bed next to you as you shrugged “He barely listens.” Izana didn’t respond to that and leaned closer to you just a bit making his earrings that he seemed to never take off jingle and sway. He collapsed back onto his bed still looking at you.

“What makes you think I will?” He asked as you both made eye contact with your head turning to face him. That was a good question. Izana cared very little for most people and it was obvious to everyone.

He only listens when he wants to so the thought that he’d just easily let you talk is foolish “Because you let me inside.” Izana broke eye contact and stared up at his popcorn ceiling wishing he could just smoothen it out. He didn’t say anything in response to your statement telling you he had nothing more to say as you were most likely right.

You lied back on the bed too now face-to-face with him staring at him and his pretty features as he stared up at the ceiling “Izana if you had a girlfriend-” “I don’t.” You stifled a laugh at how quick he was to respond to that not even letting you finish your statement but containing yourself.

“Yeah but if you did, would you eat her out?” You asked and even though he didn’t know it, it shocked Izana.

Asking a question like that as if it was an everyday question such as asking someone if they brushed their teeth this morning was completely foul and out of pocket in Izana’s opinion but being out of pocket was kind of his whole thing so it didn’t weird him out. 

What really shocked him was that you were asking him as if you didn’t have a boyfriend who’d hate it if he knew about this, well he didn’t know if Ran would really but mad because he was a little sex freak who’d probably ask for a threesome if he knew but if Izana was him, he’d be furious. Great thing he wasn’t ran and instead was on the other end of the situation.

His purple eyes trailed back to your face with an unreadable feeling in them “Yeah.” His head now fully turned to you “Why? Ran isn’t?” It’s like Izana can read people’s minds or more or so, read their expressions. That’s one thing Izana has picked up in his years in so many different places, people’s thoughts are very clear by their expressions and he saw right through yours.

“No. I wish I knew why.” The tanned male hummed in response as he turned his head back toward the ceiling as a strong gust of wind blew into the room from the still open window “Sucks for him.”

Your face contorted into one of confusion as you continued to gaze at the male, clearly, it didn’t suck on Ran’s part if he was the one not wanting to do it so what the hell was he talking about?

“Why would it suck for him? I’m the one that’s suffering.” Izana glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and a smile grew on his face as if he found what you said funny. You swear you could see him holding a laugh in.

“Eating a girl out is one of the best experiences ever. He’s missin’ out. Anyone will tell you that.” Izana said with a small laugh looking away from you who was silent.”

It’s not like Ran’s never ate you out before, he did it one time at the very start of your relationship and it was great so why didn’t he do it again? He was clearly skilled with his tongue and his fingers “Well…he has one time and it was really good but I don’t know why it was only once.” You replied with a shrug looking away from the tanned man and you felt the bed shift making you look back at him.

Izana was now lying on his side looking at you with his head being supported by his hand and his smile was long gone “I can promise you I do it better.” It was like sugar was laced in his words as they spilled from his lips and went into your head, you didn’t even get to process it and just stared at him shocked he’d even say that.

Izana was always a straight-forward guy about what he wanted and what he thought but you didn’t think he’d be like that with stuff like this or with you because of his lack of words to you about any type of feelings toward you. He never went to hide his stares on you yet he never said anything relating to it when you two talked, as if the stares didn’t exist at all and YouTube was just the best of buds and he didn’t eye-fuck you.

However, when you did process your words…there wasn’t anything that made you doubt that he could do it better. “Oh really?” Izana nodded with a hum at your questioning obviously not backing down and excusing it with it ‘just being a joke’. He was 100% serious about this.

“I can prove it to you. If you’d like.” Izana said with the smile on his face returning, you almost giggled at his tone from flustered-ness like a high school girl. This was exactly what you wanted. Someone to do what ran couldn’t or…wouldn’t.

He sat up straight still staring down at you with a smile awaiting your answer “I’d love that.” You said with a lustful look in your eyes while you kicked your shoes off your feet and onto the floor of his bedroom. Izana didn’t say anything and his eyes narrowed down at you like you were his next meal and you were.

He sat in front of you on his knees as you placed your legs on the bed, he wasted no time spreading your legs and going to pull down the shorts and throw them behind him not caring where they landed but you saw them land right on his desk where his stereo was “Don’t think ran would like you doing this very much.” Izana said teasingly with his once kind and lascivious smile turning into a devilish one and your smirk didn’t falter and only grew at his comment.

“Yeah but if he’s not gonna then who will? No one can’t blame me.” Izana ran his hands up and down your legs teasing you as he pulled at the sides of your panties before letting them go and snap back against your skin, he did this over and over every time his hands found their way to your inner thigh growing oh so close to the wet spot that had grown in your panties “I don’t blame you.” Izana muttered with his hands stopping and his long fingers finding their way back to the sides of your panties.

He slowly pulled them off of you making you bite your lip from how he maintained eye contact with you the whole time. The look in his eyes showed desire as if he was starving and had been for ages.

Watching you trail around the city with ran by your side, the male’s lanky arm lazily wrapped around your waist either hugging you close to him or resting on your ass as you leaned into him lovingly. Izana wished that was him. He wished it was his tanned arm that was wrapped around your waist, his slender fingers kneading the flesh of your ass in public like it was nothing, his cheek that your soft lips were pressing kisses into. He wished he was in Ran’s place and after hearing how Ran hasn’t even been taking advantage of how he has you and how you want to get eaten on, he really fucking wished he was in Ran’s place.

If Izana was your boyfriend instead of ran, he’d eat you out every chance he’d get. He’d thought about it a million times when his lilac irises were trailing up and down your legs just wanting to pry them open and dig in. He’d ask you every day maybe every moment and he wouldn’t waste time the moment you allowed him to just like he was doing right now.

He wanted you so fucking bad and he never said it, to anyone but he sure as hell wasn’t going to hide it. It’s not like he could anyway. How could Izana possibly find any way to hide his obvious feelings for you and the want of your love and body?

Izana didn’t throw the panties to the side like he did with your shorts and placed them on the bed as if they were fine china while you were busy taking off your hoodie from the sudden increase in heat which might’ve just been the embarrassment of being the only one exposed getting to you “But…I do blame you for not coming to me earlier. I would’ve done this if you asked a long time ago pumpkin eater.” You giggled at his newly found nickname for you and put your hands on top of his stopping them at your knees so you could get your laughs out.

“Did you just call me pumpkin eater?” You asked in disbelief earning a small chuckle from Izana, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Izana laugh before today. Maybe even smile, you have no idea but you liked it. You liked it a lot.

Izana nodded lightly as you got the nickname and what it meant. Even in moments when he was sort of being vulnerable, he was still being an ass.

“May I continue?” Izana asked politely with a smile still on his face, he didn’t have to ask twice or raise an eyebrow for an answer for you to take your hands off his allowing him to move on.

His eyes darted down to your now bare cunt basically squeezing around nothing, he trailed one hand down there with his fingers tickling the skin on your thigh “You’re so pretty y’know that?” Izana complimented not looking up at you and circling your hole with his pointer finger making you whine out in anticipation while throwing your head back against the sheets.

“Been wanting to get between these precious legs since I laid eyes on you.” The white-haired male said slipping one finger inside of you slowly, he didn’t move it nor did he add another finger but it stayed there as his thumb slowly drew circles on your clit “Then why don’t you hurry and get down there!” You whimpered out your brows furrowing in frustration with the teasing of the bundle of nerves and no movement inside of you, he wasn’t even going to add another finger to make you feel full…so mean.

He blinked up at you but you didn’t see it as you were too busy whining with your eyes closed “I want you to look at me first.” Izana said with his thumb stilling and pulling out his finger earning a small groan for you. Your eyes fluttered open and you gazed up at him with pleading eyes, he didn’t move for a second and stared back at you.

Both of his hands went to the back of your thigh squeezing tightly before he lowered his head down maintaining eye contact with you until you couldn’t see his eyes anymore, you squeezed your eyes shut again your hands balling into fists from the attention he was giving your clit. Izana was making sure to give you as much attention as he physically could, he wanted you to know how good he wanted you to feel and the effort he was putting into it.

If he couldn’t have you and could only taste you, he wanted to make sure the taste of your orgasm was the best one you had ever gotten “Izana…” The sound of his name leaving your lips in a moan made his pants get tighter and he felt his raging boner rubbing against the confinements of his boxers, god he hoped you’d let him fuck you after this. He really wanted that.

To feel the warmness of your cunt sucking him in, to feel you tightening around him when he made you tip over your edge and undo yourself all over his cock. It was his most wanted dream and he hoped you would be his queen and make them come true and make his lap your throne but for now, it’d have to be his face.

Your hand went to his head and twisted your fingers in the thick and silky strands of his white hair as your back rose from the bed. You looked up at the ceiling remembering your darling boyfriend who was probably at home taking a nap because ‘the argument tired him out so much’ and it pissed you off.

Thinking about him was sort of ruining your mood and how Izana was going down on you like he hadn’t eaten in several days. You felt Izana’s mouth leaving your cunt and looked down seeing him staring at you his hand continuing to move “You alright there? Lookin’ kinda for a queen, aren’t you?” Izana said with a small smile appearing on his face tilting his head slightly and making his earrings sway and jingle once more.

You giggled slightly “Are you thinking about Haitani?” Izana asked taking his free hand and running it up your shirt and resting it on your tummy just drawing circles around your belly button comfortingly. You bit your lip when his fingers hit an extra sensitive spot reminding you that he was still going but you nodded silently at his question.

Izana rested his head on your thigh his hair tickling your skin “Then do me a favor…” His comforting smile turned into a malicious one with the darkest thoughts hiding behind it and you didn’t know if scared you or not but you knew you still loved it. His hand slipped from under your shirt and went to your hoodie you put on the bed and pulled out your phone from the pocket.

“Send him a couple of photos of me eating this pretty pussy. Make sure you keep ‘em too.” Izana said lowly throwing your phone onto your stomach before lowering his head back down not giving you any time to respond before he started licking your cunt once again. Mhm…you liked that idea.

Sending Ran a few photos just ready for him to open up after he’s done with his little princess nap and disturb him and fuck up his whole day.

You fumbled to grab the phone and angle it so you could get the perfect photo of Izana’s white hair sprawled all along your lower abdomen as he ate you out. You took multiple photos smiling as you did so and your smile only grew wider when Izana lifted his head to look up at you wondering what all that giggling was that was coming from your lips.

You made sure to take a bunch of photos of that sight. He looked so pretty like that. His lips shone with the wetness of your pussy, his lilac eyes shining focused on you his white lashes fluttering with every blink as the sun shined through the window making his tan skin glow like he was an angel sent from above just to treat you how you’ve wanted to be.

Actually no…he wasn’t an angel. Izana was a king. The prettiest one you had ever seen and he was marking you as his queen with his fingers shaping your cunt to fit his fingers and tongue perfectly, he reached over and grabbed the phone from your hands and scrolled through the camera roll still making you moan with his fingers running along the walls of your cunt hitting all those spongy spots “Took a bunch of pictures, must really like how I look.” Izana said smiling at you as he threw the phone on the bed.

You nodded your tongue lolling out “I do!” You shouted.

You didn’t know if he sent the pictures just then or if he was going to do it later but it didn’t matter because he was still putting your pleasure over getting back at Ran. As badly as he wanted to, he wanted you to feel good first.

“Aw, I like your face too doll.” Izana complimented with a smile bringing his fingers out before placing his hand on your inner thigh spreading them further apart so he could have better access.

You wondered if Izana ate other girls he fucked with like this or if you were special and he was doing his absolute best and it was probably that. If it wasn’t, you’d be in pure disbelief because you just couldn’t believe that this was his regular pussy eating skills…you could imagine what he was doing at his best.

Your back arched up above the bed as you gripped his scarlet red bedsheets digging your head further into the mattress. Your hand went back to his head grabbing onto his hair tightly and you heard a muffled moan come from him making you look down and he looked up through his long white eyelashes practically begging for you to do it again.

You nearly forgot what he wanted because you were getting so lost in his haze of lilac hues staring up at you and clearly he didn’t like that. Izana gently nipped at your clit making your body jerk and your hands grab at his hair once again as you moaned “Izana!” Your eyes squeezed shut as you jerked your hips up into his mouth.

His lips latched onto your clit suckling at it as his hands trailed down from your thigh once again his fingertips tickling your bare skin as it made its way to your crotch and two of his fingers found their way back into your hole. Izana’s hard-on was rubbing against his bed making him groan into your cunt and your constantly pulling at his hair made him even harder.

If he stood up you could probably see how hard his cock was even through his loose shorts and he wanted you to. He wanted you to see how hard you were making him just from him eating you out alone “Uh, Uh, Uh!” You shouted your chest rising and falling with each whorish moan that fell from your tongue. Izana chuckled lightly smiling on your clitoris “Such a whore, doll. Ran make you moan like this?” Izana asked his words slightly muffled as his mouth was still on your pussy.

The vibration of his words sent chills up your spine and you could barely focus on what he said as you felt it more than you heard it. “Uh huh!” You yelled hoping that was the right response to his questions but you quickly learned that it wasn’t when his fingers stopped moving inside of you. Your eyes snapped open and you looked down at him.

His lilac gaze which was once full of a bit of demand and much more begging was now glaring at you angrily “‘M sorry! Didn’t hear you!” You whined wanting nothing but for him to keep going. Izana didn’t dare take his mouth away from your clit and just stared up at you through his light eyelashes that fluttered with every blink.

He sighed closing his eyes and looking calmer than he did before “Whore gets someone in between her legs and just forgets to listen.” Izana said as you whimpered at the feeling of his breath on your clit. He lifted his face liking his lips that were wet with your slick “I asked you if Ran ever made you moan like a whore.” He repeated rubbing his fingerprints gently over the ridges of your walls making sure to hit your sweet spot making you whine and you closed your eyes again.

Your hands retracted from his hair and covered your face as you tried to find the words that were constantly dissolving on your tongue like sugar because of the teasing. Ran has made you moan like that before, ran has made you cry on his dick to the point Rindou had to bang on the door telling you two to shut the fuck up just because of your sobbing but that wasn’t the answer Izana was looking for and if he didn’t get the answer he wanted, you weren’t getting what you wanted either.

“Nooo! You do it too good baby!” Izana grinned at your words and started thrusting his fingers in and out of you once again “Oh I’m baby now?” You nodded violently at his question and he chuckled again before lowering his face again and sealing his lips back onto your bundle of nerves lapping at your clit with his tongue.

Izana knew you didn’t call Ran baby. He never heard you say it but he didn’t know what went down behind the scenes but he could just tell. Izana didn’t give a shit what you called Ran whether you called him Daddy or something like that because he was perfectly fine being your baby ;)

Izana groaned into your cunt as he felt himself cumming against the fabric of his boxers and he knew that it seemed through and there was probably a wet spot on his shorts now.

The pace of his fingers hastened and he hit your sweet spot over and over trying to get you to cum as hard as you could “Mhm…’m cummin’ baby…” You moaned submissively running your fingers through Izana’s hair once again but you weren’t pulling on it. You were so close and had accepted your descent into submissiveness and being brainless.

Izana moved his tongue from your clit and right in front of your whole just ready for you to cum in his mouth “Go ahead, cum for me.” With that, you burst all over his fingers and tongue your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as your breath hitched.

Izana slowly pulled his fingers out of you and placed them in his mouth sucking all your cum off his digits maintaining eye contact with you. You breathed heavily still staring at him while he sat up on his knees and your eyes focused on the bulge in his shorts and a smile grew on your face.

Sitting up, you grabbed at the waistband of his gym shorts and peered at him “Wanna help you. It’s only right…you helped me.” You said shrugging your shoulders while giving him a sheepish smile but he saw the intent behind your eyes. The sluttiness of your words certainly brought that out too.

Izana didn’t say anything and just stared at you with a matching slutty smile on his face. I mean, you were right. It was only fair he get a little reward too and he wanted to be in your pussy and give you the best fuck of your life along with the head. He wanted the gold and he wanted to share it with you.

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[ironinc]

Civil War.ᝰ.ᐟ 

Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ You are a demi-god and the protector of earth, pitted against Spider-Man/Peter Parker during the Civil War. Despite your mutual ignorance of each other's identities, the heat and intensity of the battle build an overwhelming sexual tension between you, leaving both of you struggling to focus on the fight. As the battle progresses, a moment of distraction leads to Peter's mask slipping, revealing his true identity.

⤷ Oneshot, smut, very detailed so here’s the warning!

⤷ A/N: Me and my best friend aka sister worked on this idea. All I gotta say is someone cooked here- LIKE HOLD AWNNN!(( Peter Parker is aged up to 20 since they are in college! And I couldn't find a good picture for the description for how I see the character so just bare with me!

⤷ Word count: 2,856

⤷ Special song to add spice: All I Need by Lloyd

ᥫ᭡.

The air crackles with energy as the battlefield of the airport transforms into a chaotic symphony of shouts and explosions. You let loose a crackling ball of electricity from your hands, and in a swift movement, deflecting the web that streaks toward you. Spider-Man lands on a crumbling wall, his red and blue suit a blur against the smoke-filled sky. His voice, muffled by the mask, carries a playful edge."

"Hey, Guardian of Earth, you know this whole thing is a mess, right? Maybe we should just call it a day."

You smirk, your blonde bohemian braids swaying as you step forward, your earthy-toned outfit standing out from the chaos around you. "Funny, Spider-Boy. But I don’t think you’re in any position to make suggestions."

He flips backward, avoiding a lash of energy from your hands. "Ouch. Spider-Boy? That’s low. And here I was trying to keep this civil." "Civil War," you counter, lunging forward, your staff crackling. "Doesn’t exactly scream ‘let’s chat.’"

He shoots another web, this one aimed at your feet, but you leap into the air, twisting gracefully. Your powers hum through you, grounding you as you land. He’s fast—faster than you expected—but you’re not exactly slow. 

The two of you circle each other, the tension between you thickening with every move.

"Careful," he quips, dodging a blast of energy from your hands. "Someone might think you’re actually trying to hit me." "Oh, I’m not trying," you say, your voice low and deliberate. "I’m succeeding."

You press the attack, forcing him to retreat. But there’s something about the way he moves, the way he talks, that’s… distracting. His voice, even through the mask, sends a shiver down your spine. And the way his body twists and bends—it’s hypnotic. You shake your head, trying to focus. This is the last time you let a crush get in the way of your job.

He flips onto a nearby small pillar, crouching like a predator ready to pounce. 

"You’re good," he admits. "But are you good enough?"

"Guess you’ll find out," you say, raising your staff.

The fight intensifies, the two of you moving in a dangerous dance. His webs are everywhere, forcing you to stay on your toes, but you’re relentless. And then it happens—a moment of distraction. His foot slips, just slightly, and you seize the opportunity. Your energy blast connects with his chest, sending him tumbling backward. His mask slips, just enough to reveal his face. Peter Parker.

Everything stops.

The chaos around you fades into the background as you stare at him, your breath catching in your throat. Peter. The shy, awkward boy from school.

The one who always seemed to be looking at you when you weren’t looking at him. The one you’ve secretly been crushing on for months. He pulls the mask back up quickly, but it’s too late. You saw him. And you both know it.

"Peter," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitates, his body tense. "Look, I…"

"You’re Spider-Man?"

"Yeah," he says, his voice heavy with resignation. "And you’re… what? Some kind of goddess?"

"Close enough," you reply, stepping closer. The staff in your hand feels heavier now, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

"Peter, why didn’t you tell me?"

"Tell you?" he says, his voice rising. "How was I supposed to do that? ‘Hey, by the way, I’m Spider-Man. And you’re… what? The protector of Earth? Not exactly something you just drop in casual conversation."

The tension between you shifting from combat to something else entirely. The air feels charged, electric. Your heart races, not from the fight, but from the way he’s looking at you. Even through the mask, you can feel his eyes on you.

"Peter," you say, your voice soft. "I… I didn’t know."

"Neither did I," he admits, stepping closer. "At school, I… I always wanted to talk to you. But I never could."

"Why not?"

"Because you’re… amazing. And I’m just… me. I would always see you in the hallway. Talking to your friends and I would just.. get nervous and walk away.”

“But you’re more than that," you say, closing the distance between you. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you. You reach up, your fingers brushing against the edge of his mask. He doesn’t stop you as you pull it down, revealing his face. His brown eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of fear and longing.

"Peter," you whisper, your voice trembling.

He hesitates for a moment, then his hands are on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips crash into yours, the kiss explosive, filled with all the pent-up emotions you’ve both been hiding. His hand finding a way to your neck as you deepen the kiss, your body pressing against his. The heat between you is overwhelming, the tension from the fight morphing into something entirely different.

You break the kiss, gasping for air. "Peter," you say, your voice breathless. 

"We shouldn’t—"

"Shut up," he murmurs, cutting you off with another kiss. His hands roam your body, exploring every curve. You can feel the strength in his touch, the way his muscles tense as he holds you. He’s not just Spider-Man. He’s Peter. And he’s yours.

Peter quickly scans the area, his mind racing. His eyes fall upon a secluded “Quiet Room” nestled in the corner of the airport. The tinted glass of the room makes it impossible to see inside, offering a rare moment of privacy. Without hesitation, he scoops you up with ease, carrying you into the room as if you weigh nothing. The door automatically locks behind you both, securing your solitude.

He carefully lays you down on the luxurious L-shaped couch, ensuring your comfort as he lowers you onto the plush cushions. His gaze never leaves your form as he takes in the sight of you before him.

When he came closer your hands trembled as you struggled with the clasps of his suit, your body desperate to feel his skin against yours. He senses your urgency and helps you, pulling off his mask completely before gently placing his hand on his chest. With a swift quick motion, the suit slips off, leaving him standing in front of you.

His chest is toned, his body a testament to the life he leads. You trace your fingers over his skin, feeling the heat of him.

"You’re beautiful," he murmurs, his hands sliding under your top. His touch is electric, sending shivers through your body.

"So are you," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses you again, his hands moving lower, exploring every inch of you. His touch is tentative at first, but as the fire between you grows, so does his confidence. Your breath hitches as his fingers brush against the waistband of your suit, a silent question in his eyes.

His voice is low and commanding, but there’s a softness in it that makes your chest tighten. “Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your inner thigh.

“I want you to worship me,” you breathe, your voice trembling with need. The words hang in the air, heavy, and electric, and you can feel the way they ignite something in him. His eyes flash, and a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face.

“Your wish is my command,” he says, his voice dripping with promise.

He doesn’t waste another second. His hands glide up your thighs, spreading you wider, and then his mouth is on you, hot and demanding. 

His tongue drags a slow, torturous path up your core, and you gasp, your hips arching off the couch. God, he’s good at this.

“Fuck, Peter,” you moan, your fingers gripping his hair tightly. He hums against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body, and you can’t help but squirm beneath him. His hands move to your hips, pinning you down, and he looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire.

“Stay still,” he commands, and the authority in his voice makes your legs tremble. He doesn’t wait for you to comply before diving back in, his tongue circling your clit with a precision that leaves you whimpering.

Your breath comes in short, uneven gasps as he works you over, his tongue flicking and teasing in ways that make your mind go blank. Every stroke is deliberate, every movement calculated to drive you closer to the edge. He’s relentless, and you can feel the pressure building, coiling tight in your core.

“Peter, I’m—” you start, but he pulls away, leaving you hovering on the edge of release.

“Not yet,” he says, his voice firm but soft. His lips brush against your inner thigh, and you can feel the smirk on his lips even before he looks up at you. “You’re not allowed to come yet.”

God, who knew Peter Parker could be so fucking infuriating? You let out a frustrated groan, your hips bucking up against him, but he holds you down easily, his strength surprising you.

“Peter, please,” you whimper, your voice breaking.

He looks up at you, his eyes blazing with a mix of desire and affection, and something in your chest tightens. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. “I could spend hours just like this.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the heat spreading through your body. His mouth is back on you in an instant, his tongue working you over with a fervor that leaves you gasping. 

He alternates between slow, deliberate strokes and quick, teasing flicks, and you can feel your control slipping with every passing second.

Your hands tighten in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans against you, the sound vibrating through your core. His hands move to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he buries his face in you, his tongue delving deep.

“I can’t—I can’t help it,” you gasp, your hips bucking up against him. He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and then his mouth is back on you, his tongue swirling around your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

Your back arches off the ground, your hands gripping the pillow cushion beneath you as the pleasure builds, threatens to consume you.

“Peter, I’m—”

“Let go,” he commands, his voice soft but firm. And then his tongue flicks against you, and you shatter.

Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body trembling as pleasure crashes over you. Peter doesn’t stop, his tongue working you through it, drawing out every last second of your release until you’re boneless, your chest heaving as you come down from the high.

He pulls away slowly, his lips brushing against your inner thigh in a soft kiss, and you can’t help but smile at the affection in the gesture. You look down at him, your eyes soft but heavy with desire, and he smirks up at you, his lips glistening.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need.

“Peter,” you whisper, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He leans into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment, and then he crawls up your body, his lips claiming yours in a heated kiss.

You can taste yourself on his tongue, and the thought sends a jolt of heat through you. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer, and you can feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you, begging for release.

“Peter,” you gasp, breaking the kiss. “I need you inside me.”

He growls low in his throat, his eyes dark with desire, and then he’s fumbling with the waistband of his suit, his hands shaking with need.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

“Tell me and it’s yours.”

“I want you to fuck me, Peter,” you breathe, your voice trembling. “I want to feel you inside me.”

Peter’s eyes darken, his breath hitching at your words. He lets out a low growl, his hands gripping your waist with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine. “You want me to fuck you?” he murmurs, his voice rough, almost feral. “Then say it again. Say it so I know you mean it.”

Your heart pounds as his eyes lock onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making you feel exposed, vulnerable, and completely consumed by him. “I want you to fuck me, Peter,” you repeat, your voice trembling but firm. “I want you to make me yours.”

His lips crash onto yours, hot and demanding, as his hands slide down to your thighs. You barely have time to register what’s happening before he’s lifting you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

Your back presses against the cool wall behind you, the contrast of the hard surface and the heat of his body making you gasp into his mouth.

Peter breaks the kiss, his chest rising and falling as he looks down at you, his eyes blazing with need. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long.”

You bite your lip, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer. “Then stop waiting,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

One hand grips your hip, the other guiding himself to your entrance. You feel the tip of him press against you, and you moan softly, your body aching for him. “Peter,” you whimper, your voice desperate.

“Please—”

He thrusts into you in one smooth, powerful motion, filling you completely.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as a cry escapes your lips, the sensation overwhelming. “Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your head falling back against the wall. “Peter.”

He groans, his forehead resting against yours as he stills inside you, giving you a moment to adjust. “You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “I can’t—I can’t hold back.”

“Then don’t,” you breathe, your legs tightening around his waist. “Fuck me, Peter. Please.”

He moans your name before pulling back and thrusting into you again, harder this time. Your breath hitches as he sets a relentless pace, each thrust driving you higher and higher. The sounds of your bodies meeting, skin slapping against skin, echo in the small space, mixed with your moans and his growls of pleasure.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Peter growls, his hands gripping your hips as he drives into you. “I’ve never—never felt anything like this.”

You clutch onto him, your body moving in sync with his, every thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. “Oh, Peter,” you moan, your voice breaking as he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

“Right there—don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last,” he grits out, his pace faltering slightly.

“You’re too good—too fucking perfect.”

“Then let go,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his ear. “I want to feel you lose control.”

He groans, his hips slamming into yours with renewed intensity. You can feel the tension coiling in him, the way his body trembles as he gets closer and closer to the edge. “Come with me,” he rasps, his voice nearly pleading. “I want to feel you come with me.”

You nod, your own pleasure building to a crescendo as he hits that perfect spot again and again. “Fuck, I’m—” you gasp, your body tightening around him as the first wave of your orgasm crashes over you.

He growls your name, his hands gripping you tighter as he thrusts into you one last time, his release spilling deep inside you. You cling to him, your body trembling as you ride out the waves of pleasure together, the world around you fading away until it’s just the two of you, lost in each other.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sounds in the room are your ragged breaths and the pounding of your heart. Peter rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he tries to catch his breath. “That was…fuck,” he mutters, his voice shaking.

You laugh softly, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Yeah,” you agree, your voice just as unsteady. “It was.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the raw emotion in them, the vulnerability that makes your heartache. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how much.”

You smile, your hand cupping his cheek. 

── .✦

After the intimate moment shared between you, both of you got dressed and made your way back to Tony Stark. With a sly smile on his face, Peter had to make up an excuse to Tony as to why they had gone "idle" for a while.

Tony rolled his eyes in response, feigning annoyance. "You had one job, underoos…" But there was a hint of amusement in his voice as his gaze flicked between the two of you. Your fingers interlocked with Peter's, a silent signal of your connection. 

So he couldn't deny the truth in Peter's words.

This is SOOOO out of my usual context/concept but I wanted to go with it for the PLOT!!!!

(Credits: 6rceus on Tiktok)

[asthronauta]

CAZA DE BRUJAS│Black Brothers – Male Reader.

Summary: A war had begun. The Wizarding World and the Muggle World were no longer two separate worlds. Hiding and scared; it was no longer possible to differentiate between a Wizard and a Muggle. People were accused shamelessly and sentenced without trial, without mercy. Looking for the slightest suspicion to light the stake. With the fear of being pointed at, and with his life in danger; one night, [Y/N] put his two children in the car and left. Fleeing from the war. Fleeing from the hunt.

Warnings: Okay, how the hell do I explain this? This is not a conventional Reader fic guys. Look, there isn't really a ship here- Reader is Sirius and Regulus' father. Yeah. Of course it's entirely platonic, Reg and Sirius are little kids here. So, that being said — Drama, Angst, A lot of Lore, Descriptions of Physical Violence, Descriptions of Death, Verbal Violence, War Themes, and I guess I'll be warning of more as the chapters go by (yeah, chapters. I have plans for this shi). Enjoy 😁👍🏻

Btw, english is not my first language so there might be some errors in my writing. I'm still learning!

Wizards had always been careful. Discreet. Hiding their abilities from those who they knew it wasn't advisable to reveal. They understood the implications of their nature; superiority, in a way. A reality that was uncomfortable for many and a reason of pride and hierarchy for others. Possessing magic, in veins or in soul, was naturally a threat to those who didn't. Like a wonderful and unfair blessing that not everyone had. Which naturally put them on a podium where there was no neutrality; just inferior and superior. Only two options; to have or to not have. Two beings, with the same capacity for intelligence but, with the supernatural ability to possess magic or not. Wizards weren't stupid; they were fully aware of this. It wasn't for nothing that families with fancy names and heavy egos kept their blood away from those who, despite possessing magic, didn't possess the bohemian quality of what ran through their veins. What they fought so many centuries to keep impeccable. Untouchable; like an infinitely valuable treasure that shouldn't be stained. Infected with something impure like Muggle Blood.

Even with the vanity of some, it didn't escape them that their abilities not only put them on top of the podium; it also made them easy targets. Despite the little faith that was placed in them under the eyes of Wizards, Muggles had proven not only to be able to prosper without magic but also that they could become dangerous. Over the years, Muggles developed a terrifying capacity of adaptability. Demonstrating that they had the ability, intelligence and ingenuity to overcome their physical limitations and surpass boundaries that the nature of their bodies imposed on them. Creating methods known by themselves as 'Science' that led them to have knowledge of which Wizards believed they were the only owners. Although this was a great triumph for non-wizards, for those who did possess magic it was nothing more than a huge warning sign.

Carrying their own wars on their backs, Muggles had proven themselves perfectly capable of killing each other. This shouldn't be a problem for the Wizarding Community except that, at the end of the day, they weren't that different from Muggles. Their magic gave them power and protection and an endless sense of superiority but, at the end of the day, it lived in the back of their minds that Muggles could kill a wizard if they didn't have a wand nearby. That their bodies were just as fragile and without magic they were at the mercy of those who didn't possess it. It was from then on that the Wizarding World and the Muggle World began to divide more and more. And, at the same time, become closer than ever.

Ministry of Magic took action on the matter and began to give the non-magicians a space in their laws, giving them rights as a method of defense for their own safety. A seemingly friendly back-and-forth that served to hide the real fear they hid under the carpet. A protection pass for themselves in exchange for protection for non-wizards. - Many Wizards did not agree with this. Seeing the Ministry's strategic actions as a sign of weakness. It wasn't entirely their fault; the great voices of the Wizarding World had taken it upon themselves not only to show Muggles as inferior creatures but also hide their true capacity, for decades. — It was 1917 and Wizards and Witches were used to dealing with Muggles as inferior beings to House Elves. It was unthinkable and scandalous that they were now being given a place in the law. And, even worse, that they had rights and were protected like any decent Wizard. There were protests and the Wizarding World was shaken that February of 1917. But the Ministry did not give in. And without giving many explanations; the Protection and Prevention project for Non-Magical Subjects was approved in the Law. As well as many others that came after. Trying to keep the interaction with Muggles at bay as if they were a lethal disease. - The Ministry tried to work quietly, knowing that the true and dangerous nature of non-magic beings would bring fear and panic to the Wizarding World. Besides, a politician would never tarnish his own campaign by showing weakness.

Wizards always hid themselves away from the Muggle World, but the subject had never been taken with the seriousness and caution with which it had since 1917. From then on, Muggles ceased to be inferior beings and became thinking beings who begun to create their own world that, in some aspects, surpassed the Wizarding one. They were clearly a threat and that was why the Ministry took the measures it took at the time. Despite that, the knowledge was not shared with the public. Hiding the technological and scientific advances of Muggles; passing them off as Wizarding discoveries. Shamelessly covering themselves with other people's wisdom because that seemed the best they could do in the face of such a growing threat. - The Ministry used to hide cases of Muggle murders of Wizards. Committing acts outside their own laws. Erasing memories of Wizards just to keep that feeling of superiority alive between Wizards and Witches. Because it wasn't convenient for Wizards to know that a Muggle could be capable of ending the valuable and superior life of a Wizard. The Ministry's plan seemed to be going well for the first few years, but it was all just a balloon that was inflated more and more, destined to eventually burst. And it did. In 1919, with the famous 'Pink House Massacre', where a powerful and ancient family of pure-blood wizards was murdered and plundered by an organisation of Muggles.

The case became famous and spread throughout the world. For the first time in history, the Wizarding World saw with its own eyes what Muggles were capable of. They went from being lower class beings to being violent, carnal, heartless but above all; intelligent. Intelligent enough to organize, plan and execute a murder. And not just a murder; but a murder of a wizarding family. ‐ It didn't take long for wizards to go from terror to hatred. The spirit of war began to grow among wizards and witches. Desiring and demanding that the necessary measures be taken to end the threat that Muggles had proven to represent for Wizarding lives. The Ministry prevented this war. Despite having everything against them, the Ministry took the reins to prevent this growing catastrophe. At this point they were getting into territory they did not know; a war they weren't completely sure they could win, so in a clever move, the Ministry avoided a war with Muggles at all costs. Remembering that winter of 1919 as 'The war that never happened.'

Despite the apparent peace that was maintained, hatred and resentment grew within the magical community, which translated into hatred for Muggle-born Wizards and those from Half-Blood families, as well as repudiation of wizards born as Squibs. Wizards went from being superior to being defensive with any issue related to Muggles. The most powerful and ancient families closed themselves off even more, dividing the Wizarding World into those who had Pure Wizarding Blood and those who didn't.

This is how the forty years of peace that were to come were lived in the Wizarding World. Even if it meant more peace for some than for others. But leaving aside the social problems; peace was maintained enough to turn a blind eye to those minorities who suffered every day. - For the well-being of Muggles and Wizards, the war had been an extinguished flame that was left in the past and that the Ministry intended to keep that way. And they did; for forty years. And the society of Wizards and Non-Wizards lived in relative peace until January 1958, when for the first time the name 'The Angel of Death' began to be mentioned not only in Wizarding newspapers, but also in Muggle ones.

Throughout history there have been thousands of famous and well-known Wizard and Muggle murderers. However, they always remained separate in their respective worlds. In 1958 it was the first time that a murderer became world famous not only in the Wizarding World but also in the Muggle one. A phenomenon never seen before and due to its characteristics the Ministry didn't know how to handle it. - 'The Angel of Death' was a wizard or witch who committed their first crime in January 1958 by murdering five Muggle children. If that had been their only heinous act perhaps the world as we knew it would never have turned upside down as it did, but that was not the case; The Angel continued to commit crime after crime and by the end of 1958 they carried on their back the weight of 118 deaths of children, women and men who all had one thing in common; they were all Muggles.

Even with the terrifying number, the Ministry would have been able to control the situation if it weren't for the fact that The Angel was not a killer who liked to go unnoticed. They didn't kill just for some kind of justice; they killed for show. They saw their murders as works to be proud of not only in the eyes of wizards, but also, and especially, in the eyes of Muggles. They did all kinds of inhuman atrocity in the most obvious, disgusting and public way possible. Like a satire. Always with a macabre touch but above all always with magic. - 118 deaths in one year didn't go unnoticed in Muggle-London and the Muggle Ministry and the Wizard Ministry were, individually, trying to catch this killer.

This case became national emergency not only because of the fact that it was a person ending the lives of others but because The Angel was exhibiting magical phenomena before the eyes of Muggles with their murders; they was showing Muggles magic and what it could do. The images, stories and tales spread like plagues and by the end of the year the Muggle World was aware that Magic was real. The Ministry could do nothing to stop or refute it. Even with every single Auror in the country erasing Muggle memories; it was impossible to evade the new reality in front of them; the Muggle World and the Wizarding World were no longer divided.

The Angel of Death was never captured. Just as they appeared out of nowhere, they disappeared the same way. Wizards and Muggles had their own theories but truth was that neither of them had any idea of even the gender of this murderer. - The crimes stopped and, due to lack of clues, the investigation was permanently blocked. But, at the end of the day, what The Angel did was much more than just murders; they left an indelible stain on history.

In 1959, for the first time in history, the Wizarding Prime Minister and the Muggle Prime Minister had an official meeting. - The opinions of Muggles, civilians and ministers alike, were divided in two; fear or hate. At first fear reigned, which only gave birth to hatred. - Fear is a human instinct, and Muggles had more than enough excuses to be terrified. They just discovered not only that something like magic existed, capable of doing and undoing with terrifying ease, but also that this ability was not equal for everyone. That some simply had the gift of possessing it and others simply didn't. That was not only unfair, but dangerous. A reality that kept them uncertain about what the other would decide to do with them. - It was funny, but Wizards and Muggles feared each other. And, at the same time, they hated each other. Wizards felt superior, seeing all non-magic beings as inferior and harmful. And Muggles not only because of fear, but also because of the humiliation that wizards perpetuated on them for not having magic. And, for some, even driven by envy.

No one could blame Muggles for fearing for their lives. For the subjugation of their entire society as they knew it. Under the power that represented something as incomprehensible as magic. Things got worse and worse. From the ashes, that thirst for war was born again; only that this time, the non-mages had the initiative. Born of fear. Born of hate. It was not foreign to anyone; neither fame nor power nor a position in the Muggle Ministry saved them from feeling fear. It was almost a hive mind decision as everyone went into defensive mode.

It was in late 1959 and early 1960 that the Muggle armies mounted their first attack. Wizards came to know that January 1st as The Beginning of the War. And Muggles crowned that January 1st as the beginning of the Witch Hunt.

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“Come on, come on, up, we have to go.”

Sirius didn't have a very clear notion of time but he knew that this was not his time to get up for Kinder. - It was nighttime. Those hours of the night where the sky turns black and the stars shine brighter than usual. He knew he shouldn't be awake at that hour because his father always scolded him and Reggie for finding them up so late at night staring out the window at the stars. Looking for their constellations.

“Dad?” He rubbed his eye, squinting, trying to see in the darkness. All the lights in the house were off; only the dim moonlight illuminated the room enough for Sirius to make out his father taking a still sleeping Regulus in arms.

“We have to go, Sirius, get up.” It was on that second time that Sirius could notice the urgency in his father's voice and face. Plus the fact that his father spoke quietly; as if he didn't want to make too much noise. The remnants of sleep in Sirius' body faded away. Eyes wide and alert now that he was in the situation. Even though he didn't understand what was happening; Sirius could tell that something wasn't okay.

His father seemed in a hurry, so Sirius caught that energy. He got out of bed, in his pajamas, stuffed animal in hand as he watched his father dress up his half-asleep brother. “Dad, what's going on?” He asked innocently. Worried. His father was fully dressed, head to toe, as if he was ready to go outside. And he looked anxious.

“We have to go, Hon, we can't stay here.” His father didn't offer much more explanation as he approached, beginning to dress him in warm clothing over his pajamas. Sirius let him, still not understanding.

“Why not?” Sirius' voice was small. Big worried and confused eyes visible even in the dark. This was their home, why they couldn't stay?

“Sirius- no questions. Okay? Just do as I tell you.” His father finished and Sirius just nodded. Still with that uncomfortable feeling in his chest. His father put slippers, gloves, a scarf and his winter lion-shaped hat on him. They were going outside. Sirius didn't know why or where but he was smart enough to know that leaving home in the middle of the night wasn't a good sign. - It was cold outside; Sirius knew it because the snowman he made with Regulus yesterday was still intact; he could see it through the window. He didn't want to go outside. He wanted to stay in his warm, comfy bed. But his father wouldn't stop, and Sirius was already told not to ask any more questions.

“Let's go. Sirius, take my hand. Don't make any noise and don't walk away.” Regulus was still asleep, now in [Y/N]'s arms. Chubby cheek pressed on his father's shoulder, oblivious to everything that was happening. - Regulus was three years old, just a few months away from turning four. But their father still treated him like a baby. - Whatever was going on, Sirius was scared. But anyways, he complied; walking over to his father and taking his hand. Letting him lead them out. But not before making sure to take Regulus' favorite plushie with him. - He knew his little brother wouldn't like to wake up without it. And as for him; well, Sirius was sure that Mr. Paws would be waiting for him at home when they got back. He was the oldest, and he was a big boy now; he no longer needed to carry his stuffed animal everywhere.

He followed beside his dad as they walked towards the front door. Small hand gripping his father's tightly. He wasn't afraid of darkness, but why did all the lights have to be off? When his father opened the door he was surprised by the difference in temperature. It wasn't snowing, nor was there a strong wind. But the gentle gust was cold and it and froze Sirius' face. - The night was quiet; particularly quiet. In fact, there was not a sound in the entire neighborhood. No lights on. Not a trace of anyone around. Just darkness and the huge houses he had to look up at. Sirius couldn't help but feel intimidated; taking a step back towards his father. But as soon as [Y/N] closed the front door he hurried them to the car, which was already outside the garage.

His father opened the car's back door for him and Sirius was quick to get in. Watching as his father sat Regulus down beside him; adjusting his blanket. He was still dozing. - [Y/N] took a second to look at his children. Sirius didn't say anything; but he always had expressive eyes. And [Y/N] couldn't stand Sirius' worried eyes. He sighed. “I know. I know it's confusing, Honey. But I need you to listen to me, okay? To do as I tell you and take care of your brother, can you do that for me?”

“Yes daddy.” Sirius said. Of course he did. He was always good.

“That's my boy.” He took one of his son's cheeks, caressing it lightly. They didn't have much time. “Fasten your seatbelts.” He closed the car door and walked around it, getting in and putting on his own seatbelt. Glancing at his children in the backseat briefly before the car's engine filled the silence of the neighborhood. A second later the car was moving and Sirius could see their home receding into the distance.

He took a moment to look around. His dad seemed focused. He had his brow furrowed in concern, eyes on the road, so Sirius didn't dare interrupt him. Reggie was asleep against the seat, breathing deeply. With his plushie in his arms that Sirius made sure to put there. He leaned closer to him, feeling a sense of responsibility to protect his baby brother and also because being close gave him a feeling of comfort. — Sirius didn't know how to count the minutes but it took a long time for his father to relax a little. Taking his eyes off the road and glancing at him and Reggie through the rearview mirror. The street was empty and the car was moving slowly when [Y/N] started talking. “Sirius, Honey... Can you wake your brother up? I need to talk to you two.” He spoke. So gentle and so soft that Sirius felt the innocent urge to fall asleep.

Reggie wasn't usually a heavy sleeper, but he was just so tired from yesterday. He played in the snow with Sirius all afternoon. Their father didn't let them play in the yard, not usually. And outings to the neighborhood park were few and far between. So little Reggie was excited. Playing and having fun until his energy ran out. By the end of the day he was exhausted, dozing through dinner and falling asleep on the couch before he even made it to bed. His dad had to carry him up to his room and Sirius made a little comment that made [Y/N] chuckle. Last night felt warm compared to this. — Regulus stirred slowly, his small face scrunching up as he was roused from sleep. He could feel his brother's hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. His small brow furrowed and he was about to complain about being woken up when he noticed that he wasn't in his bed. - Noticing the worried look on his older brother's face just after. Unease was in the air and Regulus was no stranger to it. Not even at his age. His eyes met Sirius' and then his father's. They both shared something similar; the sense of responsibility for him. Concern. Even Sirius felt it, being the eldest. And he was only five. But Reggie was too young to understand that. “Daddy?”

“Hey Honey” [Y/N] tried to give his son the best smile he had in store, which was actually a smile with worried eyes. He reached back to caress the toddler's sleepy, concerned face. He couldn't help but smile a little when Reggie leaned into it. “I have to tell you something.” He said, sighing after. How are you supposed to explain two children who can't even read yet that they were leaving home because war was after them? - Even though the war had already begun when his children were born; [Y/N] always tried to make sure his tots were unaware of how dangerous and unfair the world around them was. He knew this wouldn't last forever. And that his kids would eventually have to know the truth but, jeez, Sirius and Regulus were just that; kids. Reggie was only three. Telling them they had to run away from home because their own Muggle neighbors might come at night, break into their house and kill them wasn't something that felt good or even right to tell them. But he had, didn't he? He had because they were in more danger not knowing it. Because in times of war like these they couldn't afford to be naive. It didn't even matter being three and five years old. “...We are not going back home.”

“Dad, but-”

“No, Sirius- Let me speak.” It was painful. Not just for him; he could see it on his child's faces. Regulus looked so scared. “...I know it's hard, I know it's scary, but... we need to be strong, okay? We need to-...” His hands tightened on the steering wheel, just as his jaw clenched. He had to be honest. He had no choice. He couldn't keep decorating the ugly reality with bows and soft words. This was war; and their lives were in danger. “...Our neighborhood is no longer safe. Our neighbors-... began to suspect of me. Of my... nature. And I couldn't risk staying there. We can't go back home now. I'm sorry but that's not an option. We- We'll go somewhere different. I'll take you somewhere different. A better place. We'll be safe there, okay? Everything.. will be okay.” His voice sounded much less confident than he intended. He heard people talking about that place; a safe place to seek refuge. [Y/N] didn't trust it much, he didn't trust anyone; he had too much to lose. But it was the only option he had now. He had two children; he not only cared about his life but theirs as well. He couldn't stay there, in that neighborhood, with so many potential killers around. Not with his children there. He had to use the cards he had to try to keep his family safe.

“...I forgot Mr. Paws”

[Y/N]'s eyes softened. Oh, his sweet boy. “I'm sorry, Honey. We can't go get it back.”

Sirius just nodded. Because that's just how he was. Strong. Always trying to keep it all in. But [Y/N] knew his boy. And he could see Sirius' bottom lip tremble a little. And his big eyes become glassy with tears. Sirius was the eldest; but he was still a child.

[Y/N] reached back. His palm finding Sirius' cheek. The boy was trying so hard to hold back. “Shh” A tiny smile appeared on his face. A genuine one. A mixture of tenderness and sadness. His boys were just children. So, so young. They didn't deserve to be going through this. Sirius shouldn't have to leave Mr. Paws behind. “It's okay, baby. I-.. I'll get you a new one when we get there.” He said, but he knew his reassurance was of little use. Mr. Paws wasn’t just a stuffed animal; it was a symbol. Of safety. Of love. That couldn’t be replaced. [Y/N] was so sorry Sirius had to leave it behind like this.

The tears didn't fall. Sirius nodded, hurt but putting on a brave face. [Y/N] had no idea where he get that from, but he was so proud. “That's my boy” he smiled.

Silence fell over the car afterward. [Y/N] kept driving, glancing at his little ones through the rearview mirror from time to time. Sirius was silent. And Reggie, who lost sleep, curled up against him. He had been like that ever since the Mr. Paws scene. He held his own plushie in his arms so tightly that it seemed like the little snake's eyes would pop out. Face buried in Sirius' shoulder. - They hadn't made any comment about having to leave home. It weighed on them; of course it did. Heavily on all three of them. But Sirius and Regulus were born alongside the war, they grew up in a world where insecurity was a reality and they were always aware of that. It was sad for [Y/N] to see the painful way it was evident that his children never knew true freedom

“Fuck, damnit.” The curse came out of his mouth without thinking. He didn't want to scare the kids but he was fucking sure there were no police checkpoints in this area. That was exactly the reason why he chose this road. - He'd been in contact with Muggle World since he was a child; he knew firsthand how it worked and how to navigate it. How to take care of himself as a wizard living among Muggles. But Muggle World became more hostile since the war began. And hiding was impossible as a wizard or witch. So at some point not hiding was the best way to hide. That's why wizards, even those from great houses, lived in Muggle neighborhoods. - Muggles knew this. And so did Muggle Police. That was why they made monthly house-to-house checks in every part of the country. In every corner, in every small town, in every great mansion. Looking to 'arrest' and 'detain' wizards. That also meant there were police on every corner of every road. - But then again, sometimes not hiding was the best way to hide. And [Y/N] had no choice anyways.

He stopped the car, stifling a sigh. Trying to look as untense as possible as he rolled down the window. A policeman approached. “Good evening.”

“Good evening.” [Y/N] responded in kind. Forcing a smile on his face. He could see the officer taking a look on his children in the backseat.

“A bit late to be traveling with children.” The officer pointed out. [Y/N] cursed himself. How the hell was he going to explain that he was traveling in the middle of the night with two kids and a trunk full of suitcases? “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I- They're my kids. We're... moving. I wanted to get there in the morning so we left at this time.” He quickly made up. Thanking himself and taking back the curse from earlier. Maybe he could get out of this one.

“...I see.” He almost sighed in relief when the policeman seemed to believe him. “Can I see yours and your children's ID?”

“Yeah, of course” he handled them quickly; having them close beforehand. - Sirius and Regulus had Wizard IDs, but they also had Muggle IDs. [Y/N] made sure of that. Plus, they were both born in Muggle Hospitals. So in the eyes of law, they were two Muggle children. And [Y/N], despite his mother being a wizard, had his Muggle ID too. He wasn't born in a Muggle Hospital; but he was registered in the Muggle General Registry Office thanks to his father; who was a Muggle.

“Very good,” The officer said. Nodding. Handing back the ID cards. “Do you mind if we check the trunk?”

“No, of course.” He said, as if he really had a choice. He was calm about the trunk; there was nothing strange in there. He had clothes, his and the children's, some food, household items that he didn't want to part with. - He regretted all the things he had to leave behind at home. Their stuff, the boys toys, the photos. Things that [Y/N] would never see again and it broke his heart. At least he knew he was saving the most important thing: his children. But he didn't hesitate to bring a photo album with him. And some old love letters.

“Okay, everything in order here.” The officer returned to his window, bringing him out of his slight reverie. He nodded. “Everything alright with the kids?” The officer couldn't help but add. It was true; Sirius and Regulus looked tense. And tired. [Y/N] would be suspicious too. Which was stupidly kind of him knowing that if he was arrested here he would be separated from his children.

“Yeah, they're fine. I had to wake them up, so they're a little tired but they're fine. I'll let them sleep on the ride.” He said. Again, the policeman seemed to believe him.

“Okay Sir. You can go on.” The officer said, leaning out the window to give the children a smile. “Get some rest, lads. It's going to be a long night.”

Indeed it will. Sirius gave the officer a stiff nod and soon [Y/N] was leaving. Sighing in relief. Thanking heaven and hell that the officer didn't check him, otherwise he would have found the wand in his coat. - For protection, he had to keep it close. The streets were not safe. And although being found carrying a wand was a sure death sentence, in these conditions, he couldn't afford to go without it either. Much less with the children with him.

The minutes kept passing and the car didn't stop. [Y/N] drove as fast as he could without raising suspicion. The streets were dark and the children didn't recognize them anymore. They were far from home; that was for sure. - Sirius stayed wide awake even though his body ached with sleep. His eyes were heavy, drooping shut at times. His father told him he could sleep, that it was okay, but Sirius didn't want to. The feeling of constant tension and danger in the car kept them all awake and alert. Sirius held his little brother close.

[Y/N] was tense. He wasn't having a good time. He was tired, too. His mind had been on alert and panicked for days, while he was organizing an escape plan from his own house. - [Y/N] knew he couldn't stay in that house after all that happen. — He moved to that neighborhood in his early twenties. The house belonged to his aunt, his mother's sister, who was a witch. She disappeared one day, probably murdered, and the house was left in his mother's name. [Y/N] moved there and lived there until now. Sirius and Regulus were raised there, and their neighbors knew him and knew who he was. - [Y/N] knew he had wizard neighbors. Or suspected so. No one trusted anyone; wizards didn't reveal themselves to other wizards they didn't have a close relationship with. But [Y/N] knew there had to be more wizards in that place.

And there was. Or, well, were. A young couple, newly married. They were murdered a week ago, discovered in some way that [Y/N] had no idea about. They were executed in the central square of the neighborhood. [Y/N] had to be there. It was frowned upon not to go and witness the executions of mages and [Y/N] did not wanted to be seen in a bad light. So he was there. - He could still remember the screams of the woman, crying as she watched her husband being decapitated with a machete. [Y/N] couldn't handle staying there for long, returning home with a lump in his throat and the desperate need to be there to protect his sons. The next day, their burned and unrecognizable bodies were still lying in the middle of the square where Sirius and Regulus were playing days before. - He knew he couldn't stay there. That he had too much to lose, that he couldn't take the risk, that he had to get out of there. So, as soon as he felt his neighbors looking at him strangely and whispering among themselves, [Y/N] began to plan how to get out of there as soon as he had the chance.

He had heard of this place. This refuge created by wizards. It was called The Order of the Phoenix. Run by Dumbledore, a famous old Minister who had been very present during the war and before. Dumbledore was the man who prevented the war against Muggles in 1919, 'The war that never happened'. And was present now too. [Y/N] didn't quite know what Dumbledore was up to at the moment. Wizarding newspapers were hard to come by but [Y/N] managed to discover the existence of the Order of the Phoenix. He heard stories of families being taken in there. The place was a refuge for wizards fleeing war. Adults, children. Families, singles. All kinds of wizards. And right now, all [Y/N] needed a shelter for his sons.

[Y/N] had no family left. He had no one to turn to. His father and mother died weeks after Sirius was born. Killed by the war. His mother, a witch, was killed like all wizards were killed; burned. His mother was burned alive at a stake in the middle of the village like they did with every wizard who was discovered. The Muggle Ministry managed to take charge of his father, putting him in prison for having married a witch. [Y/N] didn't know if he was still alive but, oh, he knew. He just knew. Muggle prisons were hostile, not just to wizards, but to themselves as well. [Y/N] knew his father was no longer alive. It was painful to know that his parents didn't even get to have a grave with their names on it. And it was even more painful knowing that Sirius and Regulus never got to met their grandparents. It was a mourning that [Y/N] continued to carry and would carry for life. Being attacked by how his loving parents were killed in such a horrible way. So dirty, so cruel. But, he was a father himself now. And he would trade the world for the moon if it meant not letting that happen to his children. He wouldn't let that happen to his children.

I know, I KNOW you guys want more but WAIT. I had to cut it there. The chapter was actually supposed to be longer but it was already too long so you'll have to wait for part 2. And, sorry for having to cut the chapter so abruptly. Whatever, DID YOU GUYS LIKED THAT?? honestly I'm so proud of myself jsjjsj 🤭 I have no idea where all this came from but I HAVE MORE. So, wait for part two. I promise it gets even better. The next chapter gets so INTERESTING. I mean, THINGS HAPPEN. Wait for it I promise it's worth it.

See you soon!

Btw, have you noticed that I'm posting more often? that's actually crazy

:P

[apt502-if]

ANDI SHARMA [SECRET RO]

Andi is not only your close friend but also your anchor, a confidant you can lean on through everything. Friendly and humorous, Andi is a walking green flag...aside from the fact that their job always has them traveling. Their constant disappearances and sporadic absence makes it hard for them to make any meaningful relationships, both platonic and romantic. Andi hasn't had much in the latter department...not that they're looking. They need someone who understands them. A person they believe is hard to find.

Also Rainn's best friend, Andi is now stuck in the middle of your breakup. Forced to play pacemaker and both sides. Andi doesn't want to but they don't really have a choice,do they? Better not to do anything to make things more complicated. Not that there would be any reason to. Right?

Don't date your best friend. Especially not your best friend who also happens to be your ex's best best friend. That is an easy rule. It should be an easy rule.

Andi has light brown skin, brown eyes and thick black hair. f!A's hair is wavy and falls down their back while m!A's hair is floppy and cut short just above their ears. Their style is loose and comfortable and slightly bohemian.

[erisenyo]

FANDOM TRUMPS HATE: ATLA OFFERINGS ARE FINALLY HERE

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[katuschka]

Draw the Line

f!OC x Josh Kiszka x m!OC 13.200 words

Summary: Jo and her husband Lucas own an art studio where Jo teaches drawing lessons. As one of her students becomes a model one day by a "lucky" chance, he soon manages to have them both wrapped around his finger (unintentionally, f'course). The situation escalates quickly when they confess about being attracted to him, respectively.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): This is filth, ok? FILTH! Including: voyeurism, seduction, kissing, licking, fingering, rimming, booze, threesome, sex, oral sex, anal sex, light choking, light dom play, overstimulation, throatfuck, gagging, face-sitting, expressive language, open-ish marriage, polyamory

You're new here and you liked this story? You can always join my Taglist

Oh, you're such a pretty one And the naked thrills of flesh and skin Would tease me through the night Liquido, Narcotic

Ever since you can barely walk, there are people who think it’s due or even necessary to ask that one stupid question: What do you wanna be when you grow up. 

It’s quite funny, because some people can reach middle age without having figured it out! Yet there’s always this one grandpa, or aunt, or someone else’s mom who thinks they have the right to know your answer before you even reach the age to even care. 

Not me. I cared quite early on. However, my answer never satisfied anyone. Ever since I could barely hold a crayon, I wanted to be a famous painter. Famous because in my childish head that simply meant that I would make money, and thus wouldn’t have to do anything else. 

The imaginative worlds created by visual artists always fascinated me and I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to dedicate my life to it. ‘But that’s a hobby, Jo, not a profession,’ they all said. Some of them went as far as calling me a stupid girl, which became much more common as the years went by.

I can be quite stubborn when it comes to my life choices. Sometimes it’s a weakness, other times I profit from it, depending on the situation. It proved to be a blessing exactly twice. 

The first time was when I met Lucas and I simply decided that he would be mine, even though I’ve always thought that he’s completely out of my league. He’s perfect. Toned and strong, but not too much, with overlong eyelashes and thick dark shiny hair that many a woman would die for, including me. He wears it in a high bun with an undercut, sometimes switching to a french braid when he wants to get me extra wet, because it makes him look like Ragnar. 

But more importantly, he’s kind, loving, (com)passionate and supportive. And that brings me to the second time I tried to get what I wanted, and went for it, headlong! No, I did not become a famous painter, but running an art studio where I teach drawing classes is not that bad either. Definitely better than some boring office job. So, against all odds and with a bit of luck, I’m living the life I truly enjoy. Needless to say, it wouldn’t be possible without Lucas, his support and help. I’m the creative driving force and he’s the brain, taking care of “business”. 

He had helped me to create a place that truly felt like a second home. I’m confident enough to say that it’s a cool artistic haven, bohemian in style, but well-equipped. Lucas understands my chaotic mind, always willing and able to put my visions and ideas into practice in an orderly, yet original way. I wanted my art studio to look like a tearoom, and he made it work. 

You see, my husband is a true bringer of light. At least as far as my life goes. 

Well, despite all that, having everything doesn’t necessarily mean that you never want more. I’m not talking about money or ambition, but rather about simple joys of life and that insatiable yearning to try something new. I still had secret dreams and fantasies; some of which came true. However, certain wishes should remain locked in the safe and sacred space of your own head. 

My most secret fantasy materialized in the form of one loud and vivacious pixie man. 

He was attending my figure drawing classes. I never really understood why, because he just couldn’t stand still and focus on the task in front of him. Instead, he roamed around the room, discussing other people’s progress animatedly and with sincere interest. Everyone loved him, because he managed to turn each session into a pagan sermon praising human creativity. While hardly ever finishing his own drawing, he assisted me in bringing out the best in other people. 

Did I mention he was also cute as a button? No? Well, let me tell you, there were times when I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He possesses this special kind of handsomeness that’s not always noticeable at first sight because he doesn’t flaunt it, but once you really look at him, you just can’t unsee it. A little effeminate, but with some undeniably masculine features. His face is asymmetric, and yet the proportions are just right. He has an almost boyish body, but so well toned it makes him look powerful. No, actually, I think it is his strong personality that makes him look powerful.

Long story short, Josh invaded my mind with impudence and made himself at home there. That means the thoughts he helped paint inside my head were definitely not innocent. 

But that’s where I drew the line. 

Don’t get me wrong. There were no complicated feelings involved. Josh was like fragrant, spicy wine that I wished to taste, but did not necessarily crave.

I enjoyed his company during my lessons and always looked forward to seeing him again. My fantasies and secret, made up scenarios took us a bit further – to more dangerous places – but they were my and my only.

Private fantasies. Locked up worlds to which only you have the key. Not even Lucas can infiltrate these. He has his own, anyway. 

We both know this. It’s refreshing to be able to talk about it without the fear of hurting the other. We even discussed the concept of an open marriage a few times, and even though the opportunity never presented itself, we never ruled it out as a possibility in the future. 

For a long time, we were just dreamers.

Nevertheless, the Universe works in mysterious ways sometimes. 

One course usually consists of ten weekly classes, and the one I mentioned – the one Josh was attending, that is – was nearing the end. I needed promotional pictures for my socials and Lucas once again volunteered to take them. He’s no professional photographer, but still pretty good, being able to catch the genuine atmosphere of my courses. 

Sadly, it was also one of those days when everything that could possibly go wrong, indeed does go wrong. My personal struggles that day culminated when my model cancelled at the very last moment and without explanation. The lesson was already paid for and everyone was waiting by their respective easels. 

Normally, I would probably just call it off and return the money, but this was the last session before Christmas, there was not time to schedule a substitute class, we had agreed on doing a series of quick sketches and I desperately needed those in-class photos to promote exactly that because new courses starting January were supposed to focus on croquis drawing for designers. 

See, my courses are not intended only for enthusiastic amateurs; I offer help and consultation also to many aspiring and ambitious artists and designers who feel like school classes are not enough. That’s why it’s necessary to have a good model. 

Anna had proven to be unreliable in the past, but the people attending my classes loved her for her naturally looking yet challenging poses. Models are almost like actors. Or mimes. It’s hard work, extremely boring on Monday and then suddenly physically challenging on Tuesday… I guess I couldn’t really blame her. And yet I blamed her. 

For a moment, I considered doing it myself, but I also had to instruct and advise my students, AND it was also essential for me to be portrayed in Lucas’s photos in precisely this role. 

I’m able to keep my cool in most situations. However, the stressful day had taken its toll, Lucas had not yet arrived to give me at least some emotional support and I simply lost it in front of everyone, groaning in frustration and kicking the stool in the middle of the room where my model was already supposed to sit and which was now empty. 

“Fucking bitch!”

I regretted it immediately. Very unprofessional. However, several people laughed and Laura, a sweet (and slightly roguish) sixty year old lady who attended almost all my courses including landscape painting, chimed in with “hear, hear”. 

I didn’t laugh though. I felt tired and miserable, and it probably showed. Tilting my head back and searching for some answers on the ceiling (Blank spaces inspire me, so what!), I didn’t even notice him approaching me until I felt his light touch on my shoulder. 

“Hey, Jo, I can do that.” He sounded almost bashful… which was pretty unusual, if you ask me. His cheeky grin when I finally looked at him spoke a different language though. I knew who Josh was, and what he did for a living. I knew he loved to be the center of attention. And yet…

Artistic models are often deliberately anonymous people. They cherish their privacy and like to remain unrecognized, especially when they pose for nudes. It’s understandable, because for many, it’s not their main source of income. Another good thing about Anna was that she didn’t mind being featured on my website and social media. So that’s another reason why the situation sucked. 

“Seriously? You’d do that?” I asked incredulously, crossing my arms. “Do you realize you’d have to strip to your underwear…?” 

“Yeah, about that…,” Josh scratched the scalp at the nape of his neck and giggled. 

“What?” 

I didn’t really need to ask, though, because I think we all already suspected it. And sure enough, the cheeky Laura made herself heard once again. 

“I think he’s not wearing any, Jo! Am I right, Joshy boy?” Standing there with her large cup of latte like the queen she was, she pulled her glasses down and winked at him playfully. 

Josh blushed and bit his lip, but remained determined to save the day. “Damn right, Lor!” he practically screeched and then giggled again. While I would have been willing to let him pose for us in just his briefs, I couldn’t possibly allow this. He might be a bit reckless, but I am not. Getting into trouble with his manager was not worth it. 

The possibility of seeing him totally naked was, on the other hand, DEFINITELY worth it, but still not enough to make my brain shut down completely.

“I can’t let you do that, Josh. Do you realize my husband is coming to take photographs of this lesson? And I’m planning to use them online!” 

He still seemed completely unfazed, making a long face as well as some other animated gestures with his truly beautiful hands, and it was starting to get on my nerves, honestly. “And? People have already seen all of me anyway… well, um, maybe all the parts except lil’ Joshito, but even that’s a bit… debatable.” 

I shouldn’t have laughed, but the nickname almost made me choke on the oxygen I just inhaled. He was still so nonchalant about it. With his hands in his pockets, he was swaying slightly back and forth, while still waiting for my response. It was a true match of stubbornness, with the two of us standing in the middle of the room, and neither willing to give up. He kept wiggling his eyebrows at me, and I kept chewing my lower lip. 

“Seriously, Jo. It’s gonna be fine! And honestly, what other option do you have? Well, of course, unless the others are against my idea…” To my dismay, Josh was very good at persuading people to do whatever he wanted. It comes with the profession, I suppose. When he failed with me, that little weasel naturally turned to others for help. And he was successful. Those traitors all cheered and kept nodding in his favor, so I finally gave in, albeit reluctantly.

“Fiiine,” I sighed and put on the most careworn face I could muster. “But see how miserable you make me feel?” There was still more on my mind – and tongue – but the sudden kiss on my cheek rendered me speechless. Bold! Before I could recover, he was already shirtless and taking off his shoes… which immediately felt like a final, fatal blow. 

To say that I did not expect such a sight would be a lie. If I told you I had never watched any of his videos on Youtube or TikTok, my nose would grow like Pinocchio’s. Josh is like one of those friendzoned good guys from movies that transform into objects of desire when you’re least expecting it. Not that I did not suspect him to look fine under his bleached long sleeves and beige hoodies, but what used to be a very abstract subject of my daydreams now became a tough reality that had me on a chokehold in no time. 

Thank god I was not the only one and god bless Laura once again for her insolent remarks that brought me back to reality and prevented me from staring at those flexing arms while he was unlacing his sneakers. I recovered quickly, reminding him we had a changing room for that, with bathrobes he could use. 

Josh dismissed that with one flick of a hand and proceeded to unbutton his fly. I think my head started spinning even before he actually slid the khaki fabric down his precious buttocks. I have seen my fair share of male asses and dicks – and not just in bed, obviously – but there’s a strange novelty in it when it’s someone you actually want to see naked, which I’m sure you understand. I went to check on my emergency supply of charcoal and kneaded erasers that were placed on another stool nearby. There I secretly counted to ten before I took his neatly folded clothes to put them away. 

He was sitting cross legged on the stool when I got back, grinning and tapping fingers on his knee. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“Right…well,” I cleared my throat. “You’re supposed to change the pose every fifteen minutes… don’t worry, I’ll set the timer. It could be theatrical or completely relaxed, doesn’t really matter. Just make sure it’s different every time. AND be mindful of the fact that you’re supposed to hold the pose! No fidgeting.” Knowing Josh, I stressed the last piece of information and he nodded enthusiastically to convince me he understood. It didn’t convince me at all. “We already lost some time, so there will be nine poses max.” 

“Got it, boss. So how about this?” He stood up and struck a mighty pose with his hands on his hips, chin up and chest sticking out proudly. He looked like Napoleon before bedtime and I couldn’t prevent my eyes from rolling. 

“Yeah, whatever suits you… So everyone, let’s get to work!” 

As I had expected, it proved to be an almost impossible task for Josh to keep still, and after a short while, he started talking to keep himself from moving. I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t interrupting me in my own attempts to consult other people’s progress as I walked around the room, checking their sketches. 

We finally agreed on putting on some music during his next pose, which was that of the thinker a la Rodin. Not gonna lie, I was glad he got back in a sitting position. At least for a while. 

My relief was short-lived. 

As the timer chimed for the second time, Josh stretched his back, pulled his arms up and my breath hitched in my throat at the sight. I thought and hoped he was just making himself comfortable, relieving his tense muscles, but he decided to remain in the position. He just bent the right arm, grabbed his left elbow with his right hand, rested his head against his right bicep and closed his eyes. Obviously, that was the next pose and everyone got back to work, quickly switching their papers once again. 

I stood there mesmerised, watching his heaving chest and being intrigued by his pouty lips, when a familiar voice on my right almost made me jump. I hadn’t noticed him coming in. 

“Who’s that?” Lucas asked in a low voice so as not to disturb anyone. He stroked my back gently, but his eyes were fixed on Josh, his expression one of wonder. 

“That’s Josh…,” I replied – almost absentmindedly – as if that somehow explained the situation, but Lucas’s amused “ok…?” pulled me fully back into reality. Lucas was often present at my lessons – usually doing some boring but necessary work in the adjacent office – but never before during figure drawing, because it collided with his workout plans. 

“Yeah...uh…Sorry. He attends this course. Anna screwed me again and Josh volunteered to substitute for her today.” I looked sideways at Lucas to see him still watching Josh with a furrowed brow. I was a bit anxious that he had noticed my restlessness, but Lucas seemed lost in his own thoughts. 

“He seems familiar,” my husband mumbled after a while. 

“Yeah, I think you know him. Greta Van Fleet.” I never listened to that kind of music, but Lucas did, and Josh’s band was featured on some of his favorite playlists. I think he had even subscribed to their channel, but in Lucas’s case, that doesn’t mean much. I expected him to respond with “oh, cool,” or something like that, but he just kept staring at the dainty figure in the middle of the room that still seemed oblivious to his arrival. Just like I had been, thanks to the music. Laura finally noticed him too, and waved hello, breaking the strange spell we were both seemingly under. 

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Lucas whispered after he saluted the old lady. I knew what he meant, so I also knew his mind returned back to business. 

“No, but he insisted, and there were no other options. Just please, try to keep it all waist up and… I dunno, blurry,” I added with a telling, pained look. He squeezed my shoulder in silent response just when the timer chimed again, making Josh open his eyes at last. He immediately looked our way and his whole body jerked as if he got burned. It was followed by a shy smile. 

“Hey! I… um, got lost in thoughts a bit… I think, uh… I love this song, ya know, anyway… forgot to think about the next pose...” He got back to his incessant babbling, but it was different this time. He looked almost embarrassed as he crossed his legs again and started playing with his curls absentmindedly. 

I tried to introduce him to my husband, which in the end made the whole situation even more awkward because it wasn’t exactly one of those moments when guys just shake hands, if you know what I mean. Moreover, I knew about Josh’s preferences and my husband is a handsome man. I’m sure those pretty cheeks didn’t suddenly turn so rosy only because of the heating. 

But as I already said, I can always count on Lucas, and this was no exception. He remained very casual about it and proceeded to take the camera off the bag matter-of-factly. “I’m only here to take some pics, so everyone please ignore me and just keep doing what you’ve been doing, which, as I can see, you’ve been doing great so far.” He addressed everyone in the room with a pearly smile, making it known and clear that it was a perfectly normal situation for everyone involved. I made a mental note to thank him for it later. 

The rest of the evening went on smoothly. After two more poses, Josh stood up again, seemingly at ease once more. He was a natural after all, and in the end, everyone told him so. Laura went as far as to suggest that he should do that more often. Of course she was going to attend the next course and I suspected the main reason was not him just being a good model. I couldn’t help but agree though. After the slightly shaky start, his behavior turned completely professional and his poses were perfect, allowing my students to explore all essential aspects of human anatomy and movement. Not to mention that good male models are hard to find.

“You know, I think she’s right,” I chimed in half-jokingly, but he took my offer very seriously.  

“I had a great time, to tell you the truth, and I’m kinda free till early March, so… if you really mean it, I’m more than willing to help.” 

You know… screw it. Yes, I meant it. Even though Lill’ Prudent Jo on my right shoulder kept telling me that I was about to enter a potentially dangerous territory, I agreed. There was a strong chance that if I didn’t, I’d never see him again, and I was not yet ready for that. As a bonus, I suddenly had a strong leverage against Anna. If she wanted the job, she should start to behave in a different way. 

Christmas was fine, but even though I love the festivities, I was really looking forward to January. For the first time in my life, because I hate January. However, the picture of naked Josh – stretching like a tomcat – got burnt into my retinas and haunted me for days after the last session. 

But not only that. The pictures Lucas had taken turned out great and because it was Josh on them, as soon as I posted them online, they went literally viral, boosting my business immensely. So strictly businesslike, January suddenly didn’t seem so bad at all. 

Josh had warned me it might happen (...with a wide grin, no less… that cheeky little fucker was looking forward to it.), but to see it actually happening was something completely differrent. It was like a Christmas gift. I wanted to thank him, and as I didn’t have his number, I had to wait to do it personally. 

We were starting January 6th. I was a bit concerned with Josh’s inability to arrive on time, as he had been late to seven classes out of ten, so I told him we start at five. He arrived at quarter to six, just in time to get ready, and when I told him the truth, he blushed and promised to never do that again. 

Of course he did it again, but all within the academic quarter hour. But I digress…

Lucas was free on Mondays, which basically meant that he spent those in my office, catching up on administrative work I had been recklessly ignoring. Oftentimes he wandered into the main studio to greet the people or watch me doing my job. 

I always loved those little interludes; it only enhanced the sense of home, as well as camaraderie. Sometimes he gently brushed his fingers across my arm in passing. Other times he brought me a cup of tea and kissed my hair while doing so. When he was in an especially good mood, he arrived with a full box of chocolate pralines and offered everyone a treat before going back to emails and paperwork. We were known as the perfect couple. 

That day, Lucas lingered in the main room more than he usually does, and I soon noticed it was not only because of me. 

One moment I noticed him standing in the doorway with a cup of tea in his hand. He leaned against the door frame, his eyes scanning the room, until they fell on the naked figure in the middle. He wore his poker face, which I deemed as foolish because I know very well that he does that when doesn’t want his thoughts and emotions to be seen, while being naturally quite expressive when he doesn’t care. 

Despite his aloofness, he watched Josh intently. 

After the first week, Josh and Anna modeled alternately, five poses each. It gave Josh the opportunity to wander around again and watch other people working. It didn’t take long for him to grow unusually calm and simply observing, because it was different this time, as the room was filled with naked drawings of him: haphazardly thrown on tables, or even on the floor. His body, seen from different perspectives or even points of view. I quickly sensed what was going on. It’s just very different to seeing photographs of you, because art doesn’t necessarily reflect unfiltered reality; rather someone else’s perception of you. He knew how he looked, but seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes can be a strange and humbling experience. 

That was the second time (but definitely not the last) when I saw him blush. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” I chimed in when I approached him. He was crouching down, examining a few sketches that lay abandoned on the floor. 

“Scary,” he whispered, careful not to offend the person who drew them. “I mean, they’re fantastic, but it’s also a bit frightening.” 

“I know what you mean.” I got on my knees next to him. “Just a few expressive lines, yet you can recognize yourself, right?”

“Yeah… but at the same time, I can’t.” His voice sounded strange. Hoarse and husky. I placed my hand on his shoulder and stroked it gently. I wouldn’t dare to act that way with anyone else, but this was what he himself often did. Josh never shied away from touch. For him, it was an essential part of human communication, because sometimes there are things you simply cannot put into words. 

I looked up and noticed Lucas watching us again, his expression wild. It was not jealousy though, yet it still made me strangely agitated, because I couldn’t quite interpret it. He looked… hungry. 

Later that evening, when we finally got home, he fucked me raw. I know my husband well, so I also know this is often the result of some conflicting thoughts and emotions, as well as previous unanswered arousal. It could very easily be interpreted as lust driven just by jealousy, but I felt there might have been other reasons.

I already suspected it, but nothing could prepare me for what I witnessed later that night.

I woke up in an empty bed after midnight. At first I thought he just couldn’t sleep so he decided to go get some work done instead. Just him and his laptop in our otherwise dark living room; that was a usual scene in our household. 

After an hour of having trouble going back to sleep, I concluded I needed his embrace to help me, as his arms wrapped around my body could do the trick when everything else failed. So, I put on my bathrobe and ventured into the dark hallway to search for him and convince him to go back to bed.  

I heard him before I actually saw him on the couch; the sound of him jerking off was unmistakable. So that thing with me earlier that night wasn’t enough? Interesting. But… men, huh? Still, I was becoming more and more convinced that something kept bothering him. I was also sure he would tell me in due time if he wanted or deemed it necessary. 

Everyone needs their private space, some alone time. I respect that. I was about to turn around and go back to bed, but the sound of some music playing faintly on a loop made me intrigued. It didn’t sound like porn.

I remained standing in the open doorway, keeping myself quiet so as not to disturb his moment… when I saw it. 

It was probably some tik tok video, playing over and over again. A video of… Josh! My husband was masturbating to the more or less erotic stage poses of our little friend, further sexualized by the edit. 

And even though I had my suspicions that Josh managed to get into his head too, it was still a shock. Lucas was as straight as can be, never having mentioned any fantasies of this kind. It confused me, shook me, intrigued me even, as I stood there barely breathing… and surprised that my own jealousy was not part of the whirlwind. How could it be, when I was essentially guilty of the very same thing? 

At last, I made my way back, making sure my footsteps weren’t heard. 

I was still awake when Lucas came back to bed as well. Snuggling closer to me, he buried his face in my hair, while I pretended to be sleeping. We had to have a conversation, but it was destined for another place, and another time. 

Morning came, and my determination to talk to him about last night’s events vanished. We ate our breakfast in peace and went our separate ways. Hours went by, then days, but I never mustered the courage to open that hot topic. Everything else was pretty normal. Just our usual week. 

The week passed eventually, another lesson started, and Lucas was once again there, unknowingly confirming my theory. 

Except this time he didn’t just watch. 

The lesson went on smoothly. After it ended, I collected the supplies to carry them back to the storage. When I came back, I found them sitting on stools next to each other, deep in a low, nearly whispered conversation. 

That wouldn’t be that surprising, or unusual. We often whispered during lessons (not Josh!) and it was an unconscious habit to continue doing so even when it was no longer necessary. 

Josh had his bathrobe on, but the front was still open, more like a blanket thrown over his shoulders rather than something that was supposed to cover his naked body. What really threw me off was Lucas’ hand on Josh’s knee and the look on their faces. Now I was pretty much sure, but… the bastard! I never dared to actually do something like that, never even thought of doing it outside the confines of my own head. Ok, I might lie a bit, but – knowing I probably had no chance anyway – I simply didn’t. 

I cleared my throat, notifying them of my presence, and they both jumped as if hit by electricity. Trying to keep Josh out of it, I pretended I hadn’t seen anything weird, although I’m pretty sure my face betrayed me. However, making a scene was the last thing on my mind. I wanted answers. One answer, to be exact. And, to be honest, the sight ignited something else in my mind. 

“Jo…” 

“I'll wait in the car,” was all I said before turning around abruptly. I grabbed my coat in the hall and disappeared outside, letting Lucas take care of the rest. 

They came out five minutes later; together, but keeping a visible distance. 

When Lucas got in the car, I could feel his silent gaze on me, intent and wary, but I didn’t return it. My eyes followed the other figure, dressed in a weird, custom-made bomber, strolling hastily across the parking lot towards his own car. He kept glancing our way stealthily. 

“Jo…”

“Not now,” I interrupted him coldly. Josh got into his jeep in the meantime and I watched him drive away. “...and not here. Later. I’m hungry.” 

Lucas watched me for a few more seconds, before he finally put the key in the ignition. 

We spent the whole ride home in silence, ordered some food, which we once again ate in silence, until he just couldn’t take it any longer. 

“Listen, Jo, I…”

“I saw you the other night,” I interrupted him. 

“Saw me…” Lucas’ perplexed look quickly turned to one of utter horror. I won’t lie, I enjoyed watching him squirming like a snake on a hot plate, searching for words, before I finally decided to put him out of his misery. “But I’m not mad.”

That actually made him look even more perplexed, though he relaxed just a bit. 

“Do you have feelings for him?” I continued. I needed to be sure of that one thing. 

“No!" He seemed almost panicked. It was a dangerous question. Sex is a physical need, sometimes interconnected with feelings, but not necessarily. We agreed on that. Even our own fucking varied. It wasn’t always making love. And there were times when we weren’t even completely alone…  “No, I mean, it’s difficult not to like him… in a purely platonic way…? But this is just lust. How come you’re not mad?”

I finished my beer before I replied. “I feel the same way, actually.”

“Do you!” 

“Indeed.”

He raised his right eyebrow at me; a gesture which held a couple meanings at once. Curiosity and annoyance. He was teasing me… because he was jealous, while knowing too well that he had no right to be. 

We watched each other for a while, each contemplating what to say next, even though there was nothing else to say. Knowing it as well as I did, Lucas sighed: “Ok, so what do we do? Ignore it and forget about it?”

“We’ll see it next week, my dearest,” I replied sarcastically, because that was actually the core of the problem. Not only we’ve never been in this situation before, but Josh was also very real. And while I enjoyed his company for the reasons I already mentioned, knowing that we in fact shared this little secret made it uncomfortable for the both of us. Lucas leaned back and crossed his arms.

“Oh, funny. Fine, enthral me with your own proposal on how to get out of this situation.”

“Well,” I sighed, “sometimes it’s best to scratch that itch.”

“What are you suggesting, Jo? Surely not to seduce Josh…?”

“I’m just answering your question,” I replied evasively. “I have one too, though.”

“Which is?” 

“What were you two talking about?” For some strange reason, it made Lucas laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“Music. We were discussing music…” 

“Stop trying my patience, Lucas,” I spat. For the first time, I felt really angry. This game can be played only when there’s honesty. Lucas’ expression sobered, but he shook his head. “I’m serious. Kind of. We were discussing life performances,” he smirked at me. “And before you bite my head off, let me remind you what some of your most cherished paintings are about. It’s art, right?” he added, referring to several large canvasses depicting the two of us fucking.

“Ok, point taken,” I mumbled sulkily. He really liked those tiktoks, didn’t he. Bastard. 

We left it at that, not really sure what to do. However, the situation solved itself that very next week. Josh may look like a cherub, but he’s not that innocent. 

Josh was the only model that week, because Anna had to finish some essay which was almost past the deadline, and of course, he was late again. Storming into the room, he gave me just one worried glance and a barely audible sorry that had nothing to do with his late arrival, before he quickly changed and took up his position in the middle of the room, pretending to be a statue. That was unusual, considering his inherent restlessness.

Lucas was there too, but preferred to stay hidden in the safety of his office room. And while Josh kept avoiding eye contact with me as if his life depended on it, I noticed his numerous side glances towards that door. 

When the lesson ended, he hastily wrapped himself in the bathrobe and started helping others put away their easels and other stuff. That was even more unusual. I had half expected him to run off as soon as possible, but the boy was lingering. 

And surely, the moment everyone else left and I took some remaining supplies to carry to the storage room, he followed me like a pup, trying to explain what I had walked into the week before. “Listen, Jo, about that last t…”

“You mean when I caught you shamelessly flirting with my husband?” I interrupted him, throwing the unused paper on a huge pile in the corner. I can be merciless sometimes. His expression turned to one of utter abashment and diffidence, and it was funny to watch. I didn’t feel like he really fully deserved it, because it was Lucas’ hand on his knee and not vice versa, but this shy, empathetic and almost boyish side of him is sexy as hell and completely intoxicating. 

Shamelessly, I wanted a sip of that tasty cocktail. Nevertheless, I fell into my own trap. 

We were shrouded in semi darkness, with just enough light coming from the main room through the open door to allow us to see our expressions, enhanced by sharp shadows. The dim light suited him and his Adam's apple looked even more prominent as he swallowed. 

“I… It…” unusually at a loss of words, he resorted to the second best thing he mastered quite well: touch. 

A completely innocent touch. Just his hand sliding down my shoulder, his fingers gripping my arm firmly but tenderly. It shouldn’t have surprised me that much. Josh just likes to really physically connect with people in order to be understood. But it did take me by surprise. I had imagined those fingers wrapped around my bodily parts many times before.

My immediate reaction was completely involuntary. I just moaned. I mean… aloud. 

Josh looked taken aback – and quite understandably – but instead of retreating, those fingers slid gently and slowly down to my elbow, as if testing me. Needless to say, I failed the test, although it wasn’t that blatant this time. 

“Seriously?” he whispered. The puppy dog face was gone, replaced by something much more fierce… and excitingly dangerous. “What’s the deal with the two of you?” 

“Yeah, Jo, what���s the deal?” I saw him enter, but Josh did not, and the suddenly cast shadow accompanied by Lucas’ husky tone visibly startled him. 

It was like a strange pantomimic theatre nouveau. A play of shadows, touches and slow movements. Josh let go of me and his palm, open theatrically like a flower in mid air, was suddenly covered by Lucas’s right hand while the left one slid lightly down Josh's spine until it found purchase on his lower back. Josh tensed, but didn’t withdraw from the touch. In fact, he pulled Lucas’ right arm closer to him instead. Looking at me intensely with those big dark eyes, his lips slightly parted, but all that came out was a soft exhale. Being much more hesitant and restrained than my husband, I reached out to caress his cheek, and he leaned into my touch. 

Suddenly, he tensed again, as if being awakened from a slumber. “Ok, what’s going on here?”

“Do we make you feel uncomfortable?” I wasn’t teasing. It was a genuine question.

“No, not uncomfortable. That’s why I’m asking. If I felt uncomfortable, I’d tell you both to fuck off.”

It took one shared fleeting glance between me and Lucas to escalate the situation beyond the point of no return. It was a true now or never moment.

“I have a few questions.” 

Josh made himself comfortable on our large, U-shaped couch and took a sip of red wine from the glass I just handed him. 

He had arrived in his jeep just about three minutes after us, giving me no time to make this place a little bit more… presentable. But honestly, who cares. He’s a rockstar, I’m a painter, and I was about to see him naked in a completely different situation. Dust if you must; I shall not. 

“Shoot,” I replied, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Uh… ok… well, the first one’s obviously why.”

Naturally. At the same time, it was a pretty stupid question, with the three of us evidently sharing the why not mindset. I just opened my mouth to respond, but Lucas beat me to it. “Why what?” 

Lucas, too, was still standing. Moving closer to the couch from behind, he grabbed the headrest on each side of Josh’s head and leaned down a bit. 

We were circling Josh like prey, but the little cherub didn’t even flinch, convincing me he was well aware as to why… and liking it very much. The fucker just wanted to hear it. 

“Why me, obviously,” he responded with a raspy voice and took another sip. 

“Have you seen yourself?” I chimed in. 

Josh sighed and leaned his head against the headrest, his curls brushing Lucas’ clothed stomach teasingly. See? He was VERY well aware, already playing the game along with us with gusto.

“Took me a few years to really see myself, but yeah.” His jaw tightened and he smirked at last. “Alright. Point taken. I’m irresistible.” He straightened again to help himself to another gulp of wine without the risk of spilling it, allowing Lucas to rub the nape of his neck gently. Josh leaned into the touch, but Lucas asked anyway: “Is this ok?” It was very important to build trust in this new situation. 

“Totally,” Josh whispered and blinked, before he focused his gaze back on me.

“Ok, next question. Have you two done this before?”

Lucas stopped playing with Josh’s locks and put his hand on Josh’s right shoulder instead. Our little friend acknowledged the gesture with a stealthy side look, but his main focus remained on me, even when Lucas spoke. “No… Well, we… shared a bed with another couple once, but it wasn’t as exciting as it may sound, because everyone was only interested in their respective partners in the end. I dare say it turned out to be even a little bit awkward eventually. Chemistry’s important in such situations, and it wasn’t there.” 

We certainly couldn’t complain about the lack of it this time. On the contrary, it was so strong it turned the air in the room into a thick soup of tension and growing lust. I kept eye contact, watching Josh’s eyelids droop as his lips transformed into a subtle pout. Our Ganymede was playing along, exerting his own power and dominance. At least over me. 

The evening was not planned, the roles were not set and my own imagination had never led me this far despite me being the original author of this bold proposal. Now I was dying to know what was going on in his pretty head and what he might have in store for me. 

His demeanor changed in a snap, and he turned his head a bit, finally looking up at Lucas like a puppy waiting for his master’s next move. I had to hide behind my own glass to prevent Lucas from seeing my face. Unnecessarily, because he wasn’t paying attention to me, anyway. “... and outside your mutual experience… how about… men?” Josh looked directly into Lucas’ eyes, who returned the gaze and answered truthfully: “No.” 

Josh’s eyes widened slightly and he bit his lower lip. He had probably already expected it, but hearing it is always different. 

It was pretty obvious what he was thinking, but even if it weren’t, his growing bulge told stories of its own. His sexual intelligence mesmerized me, though, as he willingly allowed Lucas to keep the high ground. It was no doubt a vulnerable moment for my husband, and I admired him for how well he’d been handling it so far.  

I hated to break their little moment, but there were still other things that needed to be addressed. “Speaking of chemistry… I want you to know that I’m perfectly fine with just… watching. The last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable.” Josh’s eyes snapped back to me, his expression a bit hard to decipher, but it still managed to increase my heart rate significantly. Then he spoke up and said heart jumped up my throat. 

“I…uh… think you underestimate me, Jo. I consider myself to be a very eclectic person, especially… uh… when it comes to fun. Which brings me to my last question. What are you two actually planning to do with me?” 

My breath hitched as I watched him lick his upper lip with the tip of his tongue playfully. We had no plan. We couldn’t possibly have one, not without his participation, and he was quite aware already. It wasn’t really a question, it was an offering. 

“Whatever you want…,” was all I managed to choke out. 

“I think I want a kiss. Just show me how much you want this, yeah?”

I swear I could hear something snap, and the last remains of our restraints were gone with a puff. Josh was game. I wanted to ask from whom, but there was no longer room for questions, because Lucas took action. Without any further ado, he leaned forward again, grabbed Josh by the chin and forced him to turn his head to the side. I’m not sure if my brain slowed my perception of time or if they really looked at each other for so long, but it was fascinating to watch. 

And then Lucas fulfilled Josh’s wish. Softly at first, but Josh made it clear he didn’t come here to cuddle. He opened his mouth without being asked to and their tongues met in a very sloppy and passionate kiss.

Josh reached behind Lucas’ head to grab the nape of his neck while my husband’s hand slid down to Josh’s throat, which made the latter moan loudly and I had to pull in my lips to stifle my own whimper. They paid me no mind though, lost in their own realm where they both ruled, each one in a different way, each one holding a different kind of power over the other. 

What a mesmerizing sight. Truly. I watched in awe the dark and dirty fairytale that was just being played before my eyes. I really would be happy just watching it. My stomach muscles contracted violently and I could feel my panties absorb the overflowing wetness. I took the glass from Josh’s outstretched arm, which became an inconvenience. I put it on the kitchen counter and poured myself more wine.

In the meantime, Lucas climbed over to join Josh on the couch, where they continued with their mutual exploration; taking their time. Lucas was on his knees, still hovering over Josh slightly, holding his head in both hands now, fingers scratching the buzzed sides. The huge amount of energy that had been building inside of him for hours (or weeks) was palpable, and it begged to be released. 

With his head tilted backwards, Josh’s hands slid down Lucas’ chest, searching blindly for the hem of his shirt, tugging at it tellingly. I downed the glass, bracing for what was to come,  as Lucas broke the kiss and pulled his arms up, letting Josh do the job. They were both almost breathless, watching each other with eyes wide open. I couldn’t blame them; my own were popping off. Suddenly, Josh grabbed Locas’ bare sides and brushed his open mouth and nose hungrily against Lucas’ chest, taking him in with all the senses. 

The wildest fantasies couldn’t compare to this overwhelmingly intense show. I wasn’t ready, and with the wine already making my head spin and my cunt burn, I myself was getting completely lost in the intensity of the moment.

“I… really…,” Josh breathed out before he licked his lips and his fingers brushed the button of Lucas’ jeans. 

“Good god,” my husband muttered and closed his eyes. “Ok, yeah, go ahead, please…” With that, he straightened and stood up, once again towering over our sexy guest. Josh looked up with his mouth slightly open to allow those slow, deep breaths in and out. His fingers brushed over Lucas’ prominent bulge, making Lucas whimper. “But don’t tease.”

Josh smirked. Teasing was exactly what he was planning to do. 

He pulled the zipper down, keeping the movement excruciatingly slow, and carefully pulled the pants low enough to set Lucas’ throbbing dick free. “No underwear, tsk,” he teased. “Another thing we have in common.”

“What’s the firs…” Lucas tried to ask, but never finished the sentence, because Josh suddenly swirled his tongue over the already leaking head like a hungry tomcat. 

“Oh Jesus!” Lucas panted, his finger running through Josh’s curls. “No more teasing! You wanted suck, so take it. Suck!”

And so he did. And I suddenly wished I had a dick, because while I considered myself to be quite good at it, I hardly ever managed to make my husband really weak in the knees. Josh, on the other hand, got him there in less than three minutes and Lucas had to stop him eventually. 

“Good?” Josh grinned.

“Too good, and you know it, you bastard,” he growled before turning to me. “Jo, could you… the box…”

“Oh, sure,” I nodded, rushing to retrieve a small box filled with necessities from our bedroom. Once there, I decided to quickly change as well. He wants fun, so let’s have fun. I chose a black lacy top with ribbon lacing at the back and no underwire. No panties either. let the pussycat breathe. I had showered before the lesson, so whatever was going to happen, I was ready.

I checked myself in the mirror one last time before going back. Letting my hair down was the last, finishing touch to make me satisfied with what I saw in the reflection. My tits looked heavy supported just by thin lace and my cheeks were flushed from the excitement. 

It only grew as the muted sounds of their voices reached me through the open doors. Lucas’ teasings and promises, uttered in his lowest register, followed by a naughty giggle. It fueled my imagination even more. 

Were their limbs already entangled? Restless hands roaming every inch of their flesh? Did their eyes meet often, sharing the unspeakable? Soft moans reached my ears as I stood there, wondering. I longed to see it all, and hurried back. 

They didn’t notice me at first. I walked around the couch stealthily, careful not to disturb the intimate foreplay. 

And as I had expected, both were already naked. Josh, lying on his back with his arms behind his head. He had his eyes closed, getting lost in time and space. Lucas was crouching between his spread legs, his parted lips travelling across Josh’s chest, while his hands kept Josh’s elbows in place. 

I watched as he darted his tongue out, swirling it around Josh’s left nipple, leaving the areola glistening wet. Josh tilted his head back and moaned again, arching his back ever so slightly while doing so. 

“Oh dear god,” I muttered at last, informing them of my presence. 

Josh just opened his eyes while Lucas straightened a little, his hands stroking Josh’s exposed triceps’ while he turned around to look at me. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he asked Josh with his eyes still on my. 

“Stunning.”

Feeling a bit uneasy under their sudden scrutiny, I took a step forward and handed Lucas the small box, before I dared to sit on the floor right next to Josh’s head. “Hey,” I smiled shyly. 

… which he answered with a toothy grin. “Why so coy all of the sudden? Where’s my bold lecturer? Shouldn’t I be the one to feel bashful?

“Are you?”

“No… especially not now when I see what this does to you.” 

Always a showman. I rolled my eyes in mock annoyance and he grinned even more before his eyes fell back on Lucas, who had bent down again to pepper Josh’s lower abdomen with tiny kisses. 

“I love when he does that to me,” I whispered. “Feels good, doesn’t in!”

With a melodic “mmmmhhhhn,” Josh closed his eyes again, panting softly through his parted lips as Lucas dared to venture lower. I watched how his finger enveloped Josh’s hard dick, giving it a few tentative strokes, before he suddenly grabbed Josh’s legs under his knees, forcing them upwards, making him gasp. 

“Can I kiss you?” I asked, making him open his eyes again. 

“I think you must.”

And I did. I had been longing to taste them for so long that I was NOT coy about that in any way. I took advantage of him keeping those lips parted and licked the inner corner first before I pushed my tongue into his waiting mouth, making him moan into mine. 

Or perhaps it wasn’t just my doing. He gasped again soon after, breaking the kiss. “Fuck, you’re good at this!” It didn’t belong to me, as I could immediately see. 

Lucas paused for a bit, just to look at us. “That’s because she loves it,” he grinned deviously before returning to Josh’s ass, eliciting a few more profanities from his pouty mouth. The sight and the sounds were making me hungry, and I went for Josh’s exposed neck, licking and sucking on the delicate skin. He grabbed the back of my head to prevent me from stopping. He loved that. I could HEAR it! Oh god, he sings even during sex. So beautiful. 

Lucas straightened again and with a long, steadying intake of breath, he opened the box to retrieve a bottle of lube and a pack of condoms from it. It was time. 

“Is it ok if I stay like this? I wanna see everything,” Josh breathed out in a husky tone, watching Lucas apply a generous amount of lube on his fingers. 

“Whatever you want, pillow princess.” With that, he pushed Josh’s legs even more upwards, letting them rest against his listed arm while he started circling Josh’ entrance with the middle finger of his other hand. He watched me, looking a bit lost in thoughts and I wondered what was going on inside his head. I didn’t have to wonder for too long, though.

“Hold him!” he ordered and I quickly obeyed, loving the idea. 

“What?!” Josh bursted out when I sat behind his head and grabbed his wrists, pulling his arms back behind his head. At the same time, Lucas pushed the finger inside. I looked down into those wide-eyed pools and he swallowed hard. “Not what you expected?

“I… I…”

“Not what you want?” Once again, I didn’t mean to tease. His pleasure was the ultimate goal, after all. 

“I..yes…I want…”... Lucas added a second finger… “Yes!” 

“Wonderful, baby. Enjoy,” I smiled down at him. 

I knew Lucas would be careful, and Josh’s relaxed face told me I was right. And Lucas had been right too; I loved this a lot, thanks to his gentleness. I always wondered what it would feel like if I had a prostate though, feeling maybe even a bit jealous sometimes. This time, I could at least watch it. Tiny droplets appeared on Josh’s forehead and and a string of muttered ‘fuck’s’ flew from his pretty mouth when Lucas curled those fingers. 

“Fuck…” Josh breathed out again after a while. “Fuck me already!”

Lucas’s eyes visibly darkened at those words. He let go of Josh’s legs, carefully withdrew and crawled over him, looking him directly in the eye. “That was hot,” he hissed. “Beg again!” 

“Please… fuck me,” Josh whimpered, tugging at his wrists restrained by my firm grasp. 

“Good boy.” With deliberate precision and skilled swiftness, Lucas put on a condom, poured more lube on top of his dick, spread it all over and positioned himself. between Josh’s outstretched legs. One of his feet slid down from the couch, so Lucas grabbed him again under his knee and threw the leg lovingly over his shoulder. “You’re a very pretty whore, Josh Kiszka,” he crooned and slowly, carefully entered. 

I bent down to kiss our very pretty whore whole Lucas waited for him to adjust, and I didn’t stop until I felt him move. Josh arched his back again and his soft pants soon turned to moans, and moans to cries when Lucas quickened his pace, holding Josh’s hips firmly. 

I wondered why Lucas was so quiet though, and I learned the reason soon. This night…it was just too much, it was too unexpected and overall so sexy there was a pool between my legs just from watching it. He exhaled ruggedly all of the sudden, and then again, and at last he cried out before he collapsed on top of Josh, panting. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered right next to his ear, making Josh chuckle breathily. 

“For what? God, that was…”

“Quick.”

“Yeah, but…”

I let go of Josh’s wrist and collapsed into the corner of the couch, trying not to laugh. Lucas pulled out carefully and helped Josh into a sitting position before he disposed of the condom quickly. When he came back, He offered Josh his outstretched hand. “Stand up.”

“Why?” Josh asked as he hesitantly took it. 

“Just stand up.” My husband looked visibly nervous, but determined, and I knew immediately what he was going to do. For the first time in his life. 

He kissed the slightly bewildered Josh first, softly on the mouth, before he got on his knees before him. “Oh…ok,” Josh panted. 

I sucked in breath, unsure what to do… or maybe just feeling second handedly Lucas’ own uncertainty. “Lucas, if…”

“Shut up.” He brushed his fingertips across Josh’s lower abdomen first, shadow tracing all those kisses he had planted there before, before he let them circle around the base of Josh’s erection. And, at last, he opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the head. 

Josh closed his eyes and with a furrowed brow, he muttered an encouraging “yes”. Emboldened, Lucas tried to venture further, only to make Josh hiss in discomfort. I bit my lower lip. Teeth. 

“Imagine her mouth,” Josh said softly. “What does she do?” Lucas tried again and Josh shuddered, but it was different this time. He smiled at last. “Uh huh…hmmmm, yes,” he breathed out. “Yes, that’s it. 

Slowly, Lucas found the way, as well as the right rhythm. He was hell bent on making it right. Needless to say, he had a very empathetic teacher. He stroked Lucas' hair with one hand while the other ventured behind his ear, holding him firmly without forcing him down. And Josh was not a faker; when he made a sound, you knew it was genuine. 

“I’m gonna come,” Josh moaned after a while and his fingers slid gently to the nape of Lucas’s neck. He was asking for permission. 

I could see that Lucas tensed slightly and visibly hesitated, so I quickly slid down on my knees right next to him and opened my mouth. Josh blinked at me, understanding slowly appearing on his face. “Come on, I want it,” I urged him. He pulled out and I quickly swallowed him whole, pressing my flattened tongue against the underside of his already twitching dick. I continued to suck, determined to save every drop as he shuddered above me with a heavy sigh. 

After I finally released him, he fell backwards on the couch, panting wildly. I already swallowed most of his cum, I could feel it burning my throat slightly, but there was still a strong aftertaste when Lucas grabbed my jaw and kissed me deeply and hungrily. 

“Good?” I panted when he withdrew. 

“So good.” 

“Jesus Christ…” we heard Josh mutter, rubbing his hand over his face before he let it run through his messy curls. I looked at him and smiled before I stood up, joined him on the couch and exhaled slowly, content, but not fully satisfied. Lucas remained sitting cross legged on the floor in front of us. His gaze darted between me and Josh, and I couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. With his arms resting on his knees, he looked calm and tired. 

“What about you, Jo?” 

I slowly turned my head towards the source of that deliciously raspy voice. Josh’s eyes looked almost black in the dimmed light, making the whites sparkly in contrast. He smiled and ran a finger back and forth across his lower lip, eyeing me inquisitively. 

“What about me?” I smiled weakly back. 

He cleared his throat first before he replied. “I’d really love to reciprocate.” 

“What do you mean by that, exactly?” I teased, my mind already there, browsing through all the possibilities. 

His reddened cheeks literally glowed and I found myself unable to break eye contact, still examining what was hiding behind his dilated pupils. I didn’t notice how his hand slid towards mine until he grabbed it and drew it up to his plump lips. I expected him to kiss my fingers, and he did, but… his tongue then slid between my index and middle finger, licking suggestively. He kept eye contact the whole time and I squealed a bit taken aback by the lewdness of the gesture, despite everything that already happened. 

Josh’s pillowy mouth between my legs? Oh, fuck yeah! “I’d really love that.”

“May I?” He asked Lucas almost hesitantly.

“Go on, she deserved it.”

I expected him to get on his knees, but instead he slid lithely on his back again and rested his head on a small cushion in one of the corners of the couch. “Come on then, sit.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He rolled his eyes and grabbed my arms, making me almost tumble over him, making us both giggle. Regaining my balance, I positioned myself carefully and hesitated again, so he grabbed my ass and pulled me down, making me squeak. I dared to look down, meeting the same gaze that he had shared with me earlier that evening in the storage room. Fierce…and dangerous. The very next second I understood why, as he darted his tongue out and let it flutter over my clit with insane speed. I tensed and arched my back, opening my mouth in a silent scream. 

Mercifully, he gently enveloped it with his lips instead and started licking it tenderly. Honestly, that was probably even worse. In a matter of seconds, I was a moaning mess, bending over the headrest. 

Naturally, I didn’t hear Lucas move until he was right in front of me. He was hard again and ready to continue. “I think I need your help, bitch.”

Not the first time he called me bitch. Never during an argument, always when he wants to cum. It makes me wild, to be honest, and that’s exactly what he wanted. I grabbed him by the hips, pulled him closer and swallowed him whole. He grabbed my hair to make sure I knew who was in charge and pushed again, thrusting all the way until he hit my throat. And then again. 

I relaxed, focusing on tbe head of Lucas's dick deep in my throat, but it took one swift flick of Josh’s tongue around my clit to throw me completely off balance and I gagged violently. 

It was followed by his own loud whimper that reverberated through my pussy. That kinky little bastard. I felt a subtle, rhythmic movement somewhere behind me and tried to break free from Lucas’ grasp to have a look. “Yeah, he’s jerking off,” he groaned impatiently. “Suck!” 

For a fleeting second I imagined seeing myself from the outside, the whole scene. My head spun and the sensation between my legs became almost unbearable. I was acutely aware of every tiny licks that sent me further towards the edge… and then I was falling. Lucas had to pull out just to let me breathe. 

Slowly and carefully, I lifted myself on my knees, allowing Josh to get from under me. I was aware we weren’t done. Not after my husband had called me bitch. It also meant he was in the mood for some pretty rough fuck. However, he didn’t move, his hard-on now literally resting against my flushed cheek. “Well, well, what a precarious situation, right?” 

His tone confirmed my suspicion, but still told me nothing about his plans. “I think that pussy’salready pretty swollen now. Hmm, that’s always good. Do you want to fuck her, Joshy boy?” I tensed at those words, so hot and lewd and unexpected. A hand ghosted over my left asscheek, making me shiver. 

“Oh yeah, you do, don’t you. Go ahead then.” 

The continuing silence made me nervous. “Josh?”

I felt him shift behind me, I felt his skin brush against my back and closed my eyes, reveling at the sensation. Then suddenly, it was his hot breath near my ear and he whispered: “Can I, Jo?” 

“Oh god, yes!” I blurted out. 

I felt him shift again, reaching for a condom. A moment later, I felt those hands again, as he grabbed my hips and pushed them up. I looked up, meeting Lucas’s dark eyes, my mouth already open and ready. “You’re whore,” he said. “I love it.”

And then Josh entered me. And then I was completely full, and barely breathing.

It was overwhelming. Josh was hitting my g-spot just right and it took only a few more minutes until I came hard again with my mouth still full of Lucas’s dick. I moaned around it as he held me by the nape of my neck and continued to fuck my mouth. I gagged violently and he let go just to let me take one deep breath before he plunged back. I convulsed and my throat constricted around his head, making him moan. I loved the sound. My whole body tensed and another wave of orgasm reverberated through it, making my pussy spasm and clench around Josh’s dick.  

He slowed down and hesitated, and his grip on my hips loosened. He was no longer holding me firmly, he just stroked me soothingly. I looked up, begging Lucas to tell the other one that it was all ok, because I couldn’t. “Go on, she absolutely loves this.”

It didn’t convince him. He was still rock hard, I could feel it. That wasn’t the issue. Losing my patience, I clenched my walls on purpose now, making him whimper, before I mustered all my remaining energy to hiss: “For fucks sake do your worst.”

I’m not kidding, he growled. I swear, it’s true. 

I felt almost like a ragdoll between them, with my chest pressed against the headrest and clutching it with both my hands until my knuckles turned white. My thighs were shaking and I was gasping for air, but neither of them stopped. After a while, Lucas grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head up. I looked up at him with my mouth still open, long ropes of saliva still connecting it with his dick somehow. He didn’t meet my gaze; he was looking at Josh instead, while jerking himself off frantically right in front of my face. 

“Does it feel good, fucking her?” he growled. I could feel Josh’s fingertips pressing harder into the ample flesh of my hips as he slowed down his pace considerably. I couldn’t blame him. Lucas’s tone was dangerous. 

“ANSWER!”

“Yes…” Only then I realized how much I wanted to hear that, but Josh stopped in his movements, unsure if that was the right answer. 

Me being familiar with that menacing tone, I knew it meant Lucas was extremely aroused. Only this time, I couldn’t really tell where this was heading, and my own apprehension only grew. He soon answered my unspoken question, making me gasp.

“Would you like to fuck ME?” 

I couldn’t really see what happened next. I could only feel and hear it. I only imagined the shock on Josh’s face, drawing it with sharp lines inside my head, inspired by Josh’s sharp inhale. It was followed by a whispered breathy ‘oh’ and a whimper as his dick twitched inside me. One involuntary thrust forward, followed by three more… and he was spent. 

I DID watch how it all reflected in Lucas’s eyes, growing more fierce with each passing millisecond as he stared at the other man behind me with his lips slightly parted in surprise. 

“Open!” he ordered suddenly. I thought he meant me, so I obligingly opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out, but Lucas pushed me slightly aside and I felt Josh shift above me. He leaned himself onto the small of my back to get closer, grabbing the headrest with one hand and my shoulder with the other for support. I could feel he barely recovered; he was still shaking. And yet… In my own post-orgasm gaze, I dared to glance sideways only to see him do just what I had done a second before. 

Looking down at us, Lucas smirked. “Look how obedient he is, my love.” The words, while spoken to me, were not meant for me at all, and Josh inhaled loudly, dutifully bracing for what was to come. Lucas grabbed him by the hair and rammed his dick deep in his throat. Josh’s cheeks puffed out and he barfed chokingly, while his eyes rolled up into his skull, making him look almost possessed. The obscenity of it was the last impulse Lucas needed to paint Josh’s throat with hot spurts of his seed. 

Lucas pulled out just enough for Josh to be able to swallow. Only then did he let go of his hair completely, letting him take a breath. 

Josh collapsed onto my back completely now, with his cheek resting on my shoulder, and his quickened breath resonating against my ribcage. I wrapped my arms around Lucas’ waist, resting my forehead against his belly. He stroked my hair gently, while wiping sweat from his forehead with his other hand. We must have looked like a mannerist sculptural group. 

“So, everyone good?” Lucas said at last. 

I felt Josh chuckle against my shoulder and I started giggling uncontrollably. 

We showered separately, allowing ourselves a moment of privacy to fully absorb what had just happened. 

Lucas ordered some Indian food and we are on the very same couch just like three good friends, except we were all still naked. And because we also finished the bottle of wine and opened another one, I refused to let Josh drive back home. No, he was staying, end of discussion. Our bed was large enough. 

Despite my previous exhaustion and unusually deep sleep, I was roused later that night by a peculiar sensation; as if I was sleeping in a rocking cradle. Half awake and with my eyes still closed, my brain tried to make sense of it, until I heard the unmistakable sound of the two of them fucking on my right, literally just a few inches away from me. They were trying to be quiet, and moving slowly, swaying together in a spooning position like two boats rocked by the waves. Their deep breathing and the sensuous, slapping sound of lubricated flesh gave them away in an instant and I could feel the heat emanating from their skin. I listened in silence for a minute or two, feeling almost like an intruder in that very intimate and very carnal moment. 

But this was my bed, and my husband, and basically my idea. I was not going to let them leave me out of it like that. 

I turned my head to the side slowly and opened my eyes, instantly meeting Josh’s. They widened in bewilderment, the white of his eyes shiny in the near darkness, and I responded with a cunning smile. 

Lucas had his arm wrapped around Josh’s torso and I stroked the back of his hand with my fingertips. It immediately made him stop. They lay unmoving in complete silence, waiting for my next reaction. 

“Go on,” I whispered, while my hand traveled further down, brushing against the tense flesh of Josh’s abdomen until it reached his rock hard cock. I wrapped my fingers around it and gave it a tentative squeeze in unison with Lucas, who moved again. 

Josh finally broke the silence and immediately tried to stifle the moan by biting his lower lip. What a blasphemy! I wanted to hear that beautiful voice. I wanted it to reverberate between the walls of our bedroom until the window panes rattled! So, I grabbed his jaw with my right hand and forced it open again with my fingers. He continued staring at me with wide eyes and I snuggled closer, licking his parted lips with my tongue while stroking him slowly with my other hand. 

His eyelids fluttered closed and he moaned loudly in my mouth. 

“Hello, sleeping beauty,” he mumbled afterwards. 

The darkness around us was slowly subsiding, but it wasn’t just my eyes getting used to it. Dim, blue light gradually filled the room and I could finally see more than just their outlines. It was already early morning. Lucas lifted his head and looked at us for the first time, winking at me. The motherfucker felt no shame. He wanted him all for himself. “You bastard,” I spat and he responded by bottoming out forcefully, making Josh arch his back and grab my arm instinctively. I kissed him again in response while still pumping him, only this time I forced my tongue inside his mouth, licking into it. 

“You’re so sinfully pretty,” I mumbled against his lips when I finally broke the kiss. “I wanna paint you as a fallen angel.”

“A fallen… angel…?” he whispered back shakily in between his pants that matched Lucas’s languid thrusts and my strokes.  

“Yeah, watching you being fucked by my husband is making me all wet. What a sight. So beautiful...” 

Lucas grunted and Josh just shook his head in a silent no. 

“Yes, you are. See?” I let go of him and reached between my legs, gathering some of the wetness before I pushed my fingertips inside his mouth, making him suck on them. Josh obliged, in his docile attempt to please me. 

We were literally using him and he was very much aware. And loving it. With his plump lips still wrapped around my fingers, Josh looked at me again and something in his eyes changed. I swear I could see undiluted depravity in it and it made my head spin even while still lying safely on the pillow. He was indeed a true piece of art.

“What are you gonna do about it?” I whispered daringly and he grasped my wrist and pulled my fingers out of his mouth, before he grabbed a handful of my hair, letting me know that he was not yet completely giving in. He was not as strong as Lucas, but nicely toned and could still overpower me if he wanted. I felt the power emanating from him, boosted by the sexual stamina. I could tease him all I wanted, fascinated by how comfortable he was in letting me, but – clearly – enough was enough.  

“Turn around,” he breathed out and I quickly obeyed, completely taken aback by the sinful idea and breathing in their mixed manly musky scent that wafted around us. Lucas halted his movements again, letting Josh position himself. He pressed his right thigh against mine, using it as leverage. Feeling his head between my folds, I let out a shaky breath and pushed back, making him enter me fully. 

Now it was me breathing heavily, still trying to convince myself that it was not all just a dirty dream. The time almost ceased to exist in the steely morning light. We were no longer silent, all moving in a synchronized rhythm set by Lucas. He was like a metronome, setting the pace as we all moaned into it, writhing like snakes in the lustful melody. Josh wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer while I reached behind me to stroke his hair. “So soft,” he mumbled, kneading my tit. I took another deep breath, taking in the overwhelming mixed scent of their heated bodies. For a moment I wondered what it would feel like to be in between them, penetrated by both and being pushed to the brink of madness by the combined, double stimulation. 

Josh came first, and no wonder, because he was the lucky one now, being fucked while buried balls deep in the warm softness of my pussy. He let out a prolonged, high-pitched whimper and I could feel him twitch inside me. I reached down and grabbed his thigh while he trembled with his face pressed in the nape of my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. My hand traveled up his thigh until I reached his ass and dug my fingernails in his hairless, juicy flesh, making him squeak. Lucas kept fucking into him mercilessly as if nothing happened and Josh held onto my forearm for dear life. He almost sobbed and for the first time that night I felt strangely strong, like he was finally completely at our mercy… which he was. 

“Is he big inside you?” I teased. 

“So…,” Josh breathed out, but was unable to finish the sentence. That’s when Lucas chimed in for the first time. 

“So tight. He’s taking me so good. You’re… a good boy, huh?” 

Josh was still hard inside me and whimpered again at those words. “So be a good boy a little longer. Make her cum if you want my load,” Lucas continued – almost breathless – but his tone sounded strong… authoritative almost. He was also very close, I could tell. And so was I. To be honest, I could come just by listening to the two of them. 

Josh’s obedience prevented me from testing that theory, though. His hand grabbed my inner thigh and forced my leg up a bit, before he snaked it in between my legs and his fingertips brushed against my clit, almost fearfully this time. He started with slow, tentative circles, but soon quickened his pace when I moaned lewdly, making it known that he was doing a good job. 

Lucas’s thrusts became frantic at this point and he basically forced Josh to keep moving inside me. His knee that was still resting against mine started to tremble violently and he cried out from overstimulation. 

Suddenly, Josh’s breath hitched and I sensed rather than saw how Lucas wrapped his hand around Josh’s throat, as I could feel his arm between us. “You like this?” Lucas growled and Josh let out a high-pitched, strangled “yeah”, confirming my suspicion. I was getting high on his nasal ‘hnnnns’ and it took only a few more seconds until I came hard around him, squeezing him tight. 

It was too much for him, and he ejaculated again, howling like a wolf pup. He was literally writhing now. His arm twisted around me again, squeezing my rib cage. 

“Lucas!” I hissed warningly and looked behind me, but there was no need. He let out a low growl and let go of Josh’s throat, grabbing at his side instead in a frantic need to hold on to something. I was certain he was going to leave marks. He bottomed out one last time and his whole body shook while he filled Josh’s ass with his seed. 

Neither of us moved for a while. I felt Josh go limp inside me until he just slipped out. I heard him hiss slightly as Lucas pulled out too. “Are you ok, baby? I asked him tentatively and he rubbed his nose against the nape of my neck before he answered. 

“More than ok, Jo? I think I might not be able to walk tomorrow, but… yeah, it was worth it,” he chuckled. 

I felt something shift as the dawn broke. It felt right like that. I didn’t want it to be just one night. 

The truth about love is it's nasty and salty It's the regret in the morning, it's the smelling of armpits It's wings, and songs And trees, and birds It's all the poetry that you ever heard P!nk, The Truth About Love

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep  @takenbythemadness  @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @Lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickitty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow @scarabsinthestardust @Ironlotus90

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🌙 Ramadan Mubarak - Books by and About Muslims

🦇 Good morning, my beautiful bookish bats. To celebrate this Islamic holy month, here are a FEW books featuring Muslim characters. I hope you consider adding a few to your TBR.

❓What was the last book you read that taught you something new OR what's at the top of your TBR?

🌙 A Woman is No Man - Etaf Rum 🌙 Amal Unbound - Aisha Saeed 🌙 Love From A to Z - S.K. Ali 🌙 Hana Khan Carries On - Uzma Jalaluddin 🌙 Yes No Maybe So - Becky Albertalli and Aisha Saeed 🌙 Evil Eye - Etaf Rum 🌙 I Am Malala - Malala Yousafzai 🌙 Exit West - Mohsin Hamid 🌙 Written in the Stars - Aisha Saeed 🌙 The Night Diary - Veera Hiranandani 🌙 Much Ado About Nada - Uzma Jalaluddin 🌙 The Eid Gift - S.K. Ali 🌙 More Than Just a Pretty Face - Syed M. Masood 🌙 Yusuf Azeem Is Not a Hero - Saadia Faruqi 🌙 If You Could Be Mine by Sara Farizan 🌙 Snow - Orhan Pamuk 🌙 Sofia Khan Is Not Obliged - Ayisha Malik 🌙 The Proudest Blue by Ibtihaj Muhammad 🌙 And I Darken - Kiersten White 🌙 The Last White Man - Mohsin Hamid

🌙 Hijab Butch Blues - Lamya H 🌙 The Bad Muslim Discount - Syed M. Masood 🌙 Ms. Marvel - G. Willow Wilson 🌙 Love from Mecca to Medina - S.K. Ali 🌙 The City of Brass - S.A. Chakraborty 🌙 The Love Match by Priyanka Taslim 🌙 A Map of Home by Randa Jarrar 🌙 A Very Large Expanse of Sea by Tahereh Mafi 🌙 An Emotion of Great Delight by Tahereh Mafi 🌙 The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali by Sabina Khan 🌙 The Moor’s Account - Laila Lalami 🌙 Only This Beautiful Moment by Abdi Nazemian 🌙 Salt Houses by Hala Alyan 🌙 When a Brown Girl Flees by Aamna Quershi 🌙 Jasmine Falling by Shereen Malherbe 🌙 Between Two Moons by Aisha Abdel Gawad 🌙 Sea Prayer by Khaled Hosseini 🌙 A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini 🌙 The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini 🌙 Unmarriageable by Soniah Kamal

🌙 Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie 🌙 All My Rage by Sabaa Tahir 🌙 The Bohemians by Jasmin Darznik 🌙 Ayesha at Last by Uzma Jalaluddin 🌙 A Case of Exploding Mangoes by Mohammed Hanif 🌙 Chronicle of a Last Summer by Yasmine El Rashidi 🌙 A Girl Like That by Tanaz Bhathena 🌙 Other Words for Home by Jasmine Warga 🌙 The Mismatch by Sara Jafari 🌙 Does My Head Look Big In This? by Randa Abdel-Fattah 🌙 You Truly Assumed by Laila Sabreen 🌙 Saints and Misfits by S.K. Ali 🌙 Once Upon an Eid - S.K. Ali and Aisha Saeed 🌙 Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel by Sara Farizan 🌙 Alif the Unseen by G. Willow Wilson 🌙 The Henna Wars by Adiba Jaigirdar 🌙 A Show for Two by Tashie Bhuiyan 🌙 Nayra and the Djinn by Michael Berry 🌙 All-American Muslim Girl by Lucinda Dyer 🌙 It All Comes Back to You by Farah Naz Rishi

🌙 The Marvelous Mirza Girls by Sheba Karim 🌙 Salaam, with Love by Sara Sharaf Beg 🌙 Queen of the Tiles by Hanna Alkaf 🌙 How It All Blew Up by Arvin Ahmadi 🌙 Zara Hossain Is Here by Sabina Khan 🌙 Punching the Air by Ibi Zoboi & Yusef Salaam 🌙 She Wore Red Trainers by Na'ima B. Robert 🌙 Hollow Fires by Lucinda Dyer 🌙 Internment by Samira Ahmed 🌙 Against the Loveless World by Susan Abulhawa 🌙 Love in a Headscarf - Shelina Zahra Janmohamed 🌙 Courting Samira by Amal Awad 🌙 The Other Half of Happiness by Ayisha Malik 🌙 Huda F Are You? by Huda Fahmy 🌙 Love, Hate & Other Filters by Samira Ahmed 🌙 Mad, Bad & Dangerous to Know by Samira Ahmed 🌙 Muslim Girls Rise - Saira Mir and Aaliya Jaleel 🌙 Amira & Hamza - Samira Ahmed 🌙 The Weight of Our Sky by Hanna Alkaf 🌙 Nura and the Immortal Palace by M.T. Khan

🌙 As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow by Zoulfa Katouh 🌙 Counting Down with You by Tashie Bhuiyan 🌙 Zachary Ying and the Dragon Emperor by Xiran Jay Zhao 🌙 The Yard - Aliyyah Eniath 🌙 When We Were Sisters by Fatimah Asghar 🌙 The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty 🌙 Maya's Laws of Love by Alina Khawaja 🌙 The Chai Factor by Farah Heron 🌙 The Beauty of Your Face - Sahar Mustafah 🌙 Hope Ablaze by Sarah Mughal Rana

[thecoochiefairy]

xxx. suguru.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.4K word count. blackfem!reader, drabble, roleplay, non-consensual consent, rough sex/rough play, dominant suguru, black woman, vaginal penetration, hair pulling, creaming, squirting, choking, knife play, oral [f] [m], praising, size kink, overstimulation, degrading, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, doggy style, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ this may not be everyone’s tea. for sure one of the hottest things i wrote in my book of eroticas. enjoy, cause i did. dedicated to my mocha, @st4rbwrry ,she asked me to do this for her once.

nasty links, ya nasty— bounce. take it like a good girl. ooh, you’re so good for me.

SCARY MOVIES WEREN’T YOUR THING. They were simply a morbid curiosity, especially in your household. Your father was an extremely Christian man, anything seemingly too creepy or Halloween affiliated was the work of the devil. A god-fearing man, yes—But nothing was more terrifying than your boyfriend. 

Suguru Getou. It was like a hushed name within the night, calling him three times like CandyMan, even a cross wouldn’t keep him away from you. You were a Christian woman as well, but not as harshly as your father. You had your own questions, moralities, beliefs. You didn’t judge anyone based on their views—you never judged him. 

Meeting him within the bookstore as you went to pick up a pink Bible, your cheeks went warm as you accidentally dropped the book in your hand on the way out—he then noticed the second one you clutched to your chest, never noticing it was a deeply egregious erotica. His tattooed hand gripped the object off of the ground, veiny and large as he handed it back to you. You were a beauty to him. 

Freckles along your cheeks, button nose and slender eyes with bohemian goddess braids, flyaways sticking to your round face. He caught sight of the golden cross that sat in between your breasts, the dark inked skull tattooed along your neck giving him whiplash. When you bent down to reach for the book, he caught back dermals just above the yoga pants you wear, long sleeve top clinging to your frame. Your voice was sweet, the blush of your cheeks delineated innocence, even if the sight of you didn’t.  You were pure to him. 

At least…he thought you were. 

You were sitting along your bed, the sheer white canopy atop of it paired with champagne lights hung all around the ceiling. Your background played SCREAM, one of your favorite horror movies that Suguru had introduced you to, as you were a little afraid to watch them by yourself—but he was busy tonight, and you figured you’d face your fears. 

Your glasses hung on the tip of your nose as you were more hyper-focused in your book, the sexual endeavors of the characters making your thighs rub together a bit, a highlighter in between your plump lips as you wanted to remember all the best parts. Your attention was pulled away as you heard rustling coming from your open window along the second floor of the house, enjoying the cool air of the night. You frown, lowering your book. You listen. 

Nothing comes in return, so you go back to your book. The rustle happens again. You narrow your eyes, standing from the bed as you go towards your window in preparation to just close it. That’s when a knock comes on your door, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. You were always jumpy.

You go towards the door, tightening the robe you wear, pushing your glasses upon your nose as you open it. It’s your father. 

Giving him a warm smile, you greet, “Hi, Daddy. All packed up for your trip?”

“Yup. All packed up and ready to go, sweetie. Did you remember everything?”

A gentle yet stern tone comes from him. One you were used to hearing by now. The tall, strong yet slender man gave a soft smile before speaking once more.

“You’ all right? You seem a bit startled.”

You sigh, “Been watching scary movies again—it’s only the first ten minutes where the girl gets a weird phone call. I thought I could handle watching it alone—unfortunately, I’m a wuss. Are you heading out to the airport now?”

Your father let out a soft chuckle.The first ten minutes always got to you somehow. To his dismay, this was why you had Suguru at your side to comfort you when you needed it. But he wasn’t here tonight.

“I’m about to head out now. I was hoping I would be able to see you one more time before I get on the plane.”

“You’re such a big teddy bear,” you poke fun, “I’ll walk you to the door,” you offer, pushing on your bunny slippers as you follow behind him downstairs. You lived in a big house, taking ages to get anywhere whether it was a bedroom or bathroom.

The man rolled his eyes though he couldn’t help a soft smile, amused from the way you teased him. He loved you, all too much. 

Once you both get downstairs, you go to the front door where your father picks up his bags and checks to see if he had everything. He spoke again, a frown appearing once more.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright in the house by yourself? I know you’re not always fond of being alone at night.”

“I think I’ll survive,” you give him a warm smile, wrapping your arms around his neck as you sigh, “I love you, okay? Be safe.”

He wraps his strong arms around your frame, hugging you close to his form as he kisses your forehead. He loved you more than words could describe. You were his little girl, after all.

“I love you too. I’ll call you once I get to the hotel, alright?”

You give him a final wave as he makes it out to his taxi, blowing a kiss as the vehicle pulls off. You were relieved to get some alone time, and now you could fully dive into your book. You search the pantry as you grab for your sour gummy bears, plopping one into your mouth as you make your way back upstairs. You could hear the sound of screams, knowing the movie was still faintly playing on your TV. But as you enter your bedroom, you notice something. 

Your window was…closed?

You frown. You were certain that you had left the window open, but yet, it was closed. You shake your head, telling yourself that it was nothing and you’d forgotten to close it. 

You release a breath as you mutter, “Girl. Don’t be scaring yourself now.”

With that, you decide to cut off the movie, turning on some soothing music to calm your nerves. You return to your bed soon after, setting your gummy bears down beside you. You’re back to reading—but you can’t shake the raised awareness in the back of your mind.

As you continue to read, you can hear the house's landline going off downstairs. You sigh, pausing your music. You’re quickly making your way downstairs before the call hangs up, pulling the phone to your ear as you speak, “Hello?”

You expected it to be your father, telling you that he had left something behind, or maybe a friend of yours. It would’ve been normal for either. However, you were only greeted with silence for a moment.

But then, you soon hear the sound of a deep voice, an…unfamiliar tone.

“Hello, ❤︎.”

You blink at the voice knowing your name, placing your hand along the table as you speak, “Um—hi. Who is this?”

The voice was deep and alluring. But that didn’t make his familiarity any less uncomfortable. It’s a tone you’ve never heard. It sent chills down your spine.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. Let’s keep that a secret for now.”

“Well if it’s a secret, then we don’t need to be talking,” you say, quickly hanging up the phone. 

You frown, wondering if you should call your father. Or Suguru. You didn’t want to worry him as he was on the way to the airport, and his flight would be soon. On top of that, your boyfriend was at work. You decide on grabbing a bottle of water, going to make your way back upstairs—

But that’s when the phone rings again.

Your breathing picks up a little. No, you shouldn’t answer it. You hope it’s a simple prank. Your mind goes back to the movie earlier. You should just ignore the call, or maybe you’re just scaring yourself over something so simple. 

You take the phone back into your hand, answering as you say, “Hello?” More impatient this time. 

Once again, the same deep voice is heard on the other line, though the tone had a hint of annoyance. You could practically feel a sinister smile through the phone.

“Why so impatient now, sweetheart?”

His tone was taunting, almost as if they were making fun of you. It was starting to get under your skin.

“Because you’re playing on my phone. Who is this?” You question again, eyes warily looking around your kitchen. You then make your way over to your front door, unlocking and relocking it for your own security.

There’s a soft, airy chuckle that comes before the voice replies, his tone still playful. Like this was some sort of game to him.

“You’re awfully stubborn, aren’t you? Do you always have this much trouble listening?”

The line goes silent for a moment, though you can still hear faint breaths. Chills run over your body again. You could feel eyes on you. Like someone was watching you at this very moment.

You grip the phone tighter in your hand. You then say, “Suguru, I know this is you. Quit fucking with me because I told you what I was watching earlier. It’s not funny.”

“It’s unfortunate for you that I’m not your boyfriend.” 

It’s like all the small hairs on your body prick up. Your heart begins to stammer in your chest, your eyes blinking. You feel like you’re in a dream.

“…What?”

The tone is no longer playful, instead becoming more…disturbing. But, there’s also a hint of amusement. Like they’re enjoying this. Enjoying you getting frightened.

“I said— I’m not your boyfriend.”

A pause, your heart beating faster. All of this felt so… wrong. Then, the voice continues—

“Though, I wish I was. You look good as fuck in that robe.”

That sentence was chilling. Your entire body went cold, and you felt frozen in your spot. You joked about watching this type of situation in the media. What you would do, how you’d never be as stupid as the character in this scenario. But here you were, unable to move, your heart pounding in your chest.

The voice on the other line chuckles again, his walk heavy as you can hear his steps. Though, he can’t help but become intrigued that he had struck such a nerve in you. You were such a…fascinating little thing. He knew you were shaking.

“Now tell me, ❤︎. Did locking your door make you feel safe?”

You didn’t know if anymore fear could strike through your veins, but you felt paralyzed.

 You try to keep yourself calm as you lie, “My boyfriends gonna be here soon. So I suggest you get the fuck off of my property before he kills you.”

“I don’t like being lied to.” 

The line goes silent again, but your heart still pounds in your chest. Where could he be at this very moment?

“My next suggestion would be that if you’re gonna lock your door…at least check if your window was actually closed.”

From your eyesight, you can see your bedroom. But you can only see the light coming from it, and your heart stops. You don’t have time to be afraid. You just needed to leave.

You slowly back your way towards your front door, continuously watching the outline of your bedroom, as if you were just waiting to see a figure pop out. As soon as your hand reaches the lock, you slowly turn it, reaching for the handle. 

The sound of your window within your room slams shut.

You yank the front door open, going to make a desperate run for the neighbors—

But that’s when a figure is already in front of the door, and as you trip back, you freeze.

A GhostFace mask appears in your sight, the person wearing it tall, broad. The dark shirt clinging to his olive complexion, tattoos scathing along his large arms, holding a chrome Bowie knife. 

Your scream pierces through the door frame as your instincts make you step back, thinking quickly as you take off back into your house.

Letting out a chuckle at your attempt to escape, he steps into the doorway, slamming the door closed as you try to run off. His footsteps were loud and heavy, like he was taking his sweet time, knowing that you were only tiring yourself further.

You eventually find yourself ducking into the next hallway, finding yourself in your father’s cigar room. You find the closet within it, rushing inside as you close the door, holding it towards yourself. Tears want to brim your eyes as your entire body vibrates from the fear, and you clutch your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from crying, hearing as his footsteps become closer.

Your breathing goes ragged and labored, your chest tightening as you try your best to muffle the sound of your hyperventilating. You then hear the footsteps get closer and closer. That’s when they stop right outside of the closet.

At this moment, you stop breathing. You close your eyes, awaiting for the next few moments. Nothing.

Instead, you hear the footsteps begin to echo away, up until you don’t hear them at all. You wait for a moment, wishing you had a phone to call someone. Anyone. But you couldn’t stay in this closet forever.

This was your opportunity to escape. You give it a couple more seconds as you gently push the door open, sliding yourself through the small opening to not cause any noise. You peek down the hallway, seeing nothing again. Yet you hear the sound of footsteps from above, meaning he was checking to see if you’d hidden yourself upstairs. 

You bolt down the hallway and back towards your front door, going to throw it open as you see that large, veiny palm raise over your head, slamming the door shut. Your scream rips from your throat, ducking under the figure, trapped as their hand clasps along your throat, thumb along your jaw.

 All you can see is that mask, your eyes wide as they lock down to the blade coming at your throat, lightly connecting to the skin of it.

He was much bigger than you, broad with a toned muscular body. He could easily have you in a death grip if he wanted. You could feel his hot breath coming from under the mask, staring down at you.

“Please don’t hurt me…” you’re desperate, unable to know what else to say at this moment.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, though he can’t help a soft laugh as he’s just realized something. And it makes him…furious. But he keeps his cool, tightening his grip on you ever so slightly.

Leaning down, he brings his covered face so close to your ear that it makes your skin tingle. He speaks in a low tone. It’s almost a growl.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t lie…” you say, “…I don’t know what you’re talking about…” your eyes roam back and forth, hand pressed along his stomach. It’s hard.

His frame is solid, all muscle and toned. He doesn’t buy your excuse for a second. But he continues to take you in. Your face, your body. Your scent. It’s a mixture of amber and vanilla. He could feel how you trembled in his grip, though a part of him wished he was gripping by your chin, making you look him in the eye. But he was enjoying this. The fear on your face.

“You told me your boyfriend was coming.”

Shit, you did say that. 

You can’t come up with a quick enough excuse. You say, “I’m sorry.”

“You will be.”

He has a grip on your wrist, dragging you up the stairs as you try to pull away, yet the knife in his other hand keeps you from fighting more than you wanted to. He slams the door of your bedroom, your fearful frame stepping back as you’re trapped inside with him, glancing back over to your window.

At this moment, he has you trapped alone in your bedroom with no one to help you. Yet, you could see his eyes studying you through the mask. Taking in every slight movement of your body. Every shake, every shiver. He was enjoying the sight of you being afraid. It was thrilling.

It felt stupid to plead your case. But you didn’t know what to do. Your brain runs amuck, and you can’t stop yourself as you stupidly say—

“Please don’t hurt me,” you repeat, “I’ll do…I’ll do anything.”

He can’t help the wicked smirk that appears across his features under the mask as he tilts his head, taking a single step closer to you. Like a predator closing in on its prey. The way his eyes remained on you was entrancing. 

“Anything?” 

He repeats, his voice deep.

You clutch the material of your robe, nodding your head in response, your heart in your throat. 

It’s like you’re trying to play detective, eyeing his tattoos, his muscular arms, trying to find a familiarity in his body. Nothing. His onyx shirt clings to him, which almost curves inwards from how fit he was. His ring clad fingers, veins traveling beneath as he clutched his weapon within his hand. A rush of…something else ran within your body. 

What was wrong with you? 

Yet, your fuzzy brain is pulled out of the clouds as you hear his low tone tell you to, “Take off your robe.” 

You blink for a moment. You then give a soft nod, beginning to untie your robe, draping it off your shoulders, dropping it down along the floor. The air in the room hits your skin, the pale pink babydoll slip you wore, your brown nipples showing through the thin fabric. The sheer material glides down to the thong you wear, barely covering your ass, the small bow within the back attached to the lingerie. 

Your body is revealed to him, his eyes gazing over your figure. Yet, he remains still. Though, you can see the rise and fall of his chest become slightly quicker. He just didn’t move, his expression almost unreadable behind the hard, white mask. Silence, all apart from the hammering of the heart that was stuck in your throat.

You can then hear him say, “On your knees. Crawl.” 

And so, you listen. Your palms lead the way, your legs slightly dragging against the carpet as you make your way over to him, slender eyes feline, coaxing. You don’t know why you have the urge to give him a show, but you pause when you’re directly in front of him, politely sitting on the balls of your feet, knees pointed to the floor. 

He towers over you, his large frame making you look so… tiny. Yet, he can’t help but become impressed at the way you had obeyed his request. His dark eyes don’t remove themselves from you for a single moment. Like he’s studying every movement you make.

He was being far gentler than what you expect. He tilts your head by the point of his knife, forcing you to look up at him as he looks down at you through that damn mask.

“You listen good as fuck, pretty.” 

Your eyes blink at him, palms itching along your lap. He then takes his other hand as he runs it through your hair, lightly, as if you were delicate to the touch. Your body tenses as he then gets a grip on your hair, clutching the braids in between his fingers, tugging your head back to fully look at him. 

And he likes it. He likes how you look right now. Your head pulled back, looking up at him. It’s like you were at his mercy. Like you were completely and utterly at his whim. Just how he wanted you.

“Open your mouth for me.”

Another slow flutter of your lashes surpass, and you part your Cupid’s bow lips, sticking your tongue out in the process. 

A sinful grin makes its way across his face, even if you can’t tell. 

He moves the knife's blade to your chin, tipping your jaw a little more up to see you better. His voice is still low as he tells you, “Wider.”

You open your mouth even more, breath hitching as you do so. Your eyes can only search the terrifying white expression, but when you glance down, his body…terrifying wasn’t the exact word you’d use. 

He’s enjoying the way you’re submitting to him. It’s like something within him had woken up. You can see the rise and fall of his chest again, his breathing having picked up slightly. Like it was arousing him. 

“All that fuckin’ mouth you had over the phone. Where’s that shit at now?” 

You lightly dig your teeth into your lip, the tone of his voice through this mask. It’s doing something to you. You’re crazy. But this entire situation is.

Your voice is soft, your own words passing through your mouth before you could think about them.  

“Put something in it, then.”

His fingers come along the side of your jaw, his thumb running over your lip, sliding against your tongue. 

“You’ want it in your mouth?”

You nod your head, eyes glimmering beneath the lights of your room. 

“Suck some fuckin’ dick, then.”

You’re already unbuckling his belt, reaching under his boxers as you pull his length from beneath the compressing fabric. It springs out as it’s already hard, pink tip glistening from the pre-cum, slapping along his belly button in freedom. 

The veins along it make it look terrifying, heavy in your palms as you lean forward, taking in the scent of rum spice and cedar wood against his smooth skin. The olive tone of his complexion is covered by ink, even in the most intimate areas. You drag your tongue along his tip, raising your eyes up, lash extensions flickering like dark butterflies.

You can hear the grunt that comes from his mouth, tugging at your hair as you fully wrap your lips along his tip, swirling your tongue around, enveloping the clean taste of his flesh. You adjust yourself along your knees, arching yourself closer to him, moving your head slowly back and forth, allowing your mouth to collect more inches each time you take him deeper. His tip begins to caress against the roof of your mouth each time you move.

The warm walls of your cheeks hollow his dick, entrapping the heaviness of it as you moan softly, eyes fluttering shut as you wrap your small fingers along the base of him, rotating your palm around. Pulling his tip out of your mouth you then drop spit along the veiny flesh, beginning to revolve your hand around, almond brown vision flickering back up to the mask, your other hand running under his shirt, feeling the way his muscles flex within his abdomen.

His hand grips tighter in your hair, pulling you closer to him as you stroke faster. He lets out a low groan, hips bucking slightly, grinding his dick between your lips and hand. You can feel his pulse beating against your fingertips, throbbing with every pass through. He pulls your head back, smearing saliva across your jaw before shoving his tip back into your mouth, sliding all the way to the back of your throat. Your head nuzzles side to side, allowing it to shuffle even deeper, the walls of your throat flexing as you gag.

 You hear his deep voice lowly drop, ”Fuuck...”

You pull your mouth back, cheeks warm on the outside, freckled and lightly hueing a red tint as you softly ask, “Does it feel good?” Slapping his dick along your tongue, kissing the tip in an almost polite way.

“Feels good as fuck,” He grunts, grabbing your chin firmly and tilting your head back, exposing your neck to him. "You’re so fuckin’ sexy. Pull your tit’s out. Go down until you’re rubbing your pussy, I know this shit’ is making you wet.”

He was right, it was. Each time his tip slammed against the back of your throat, your inner thighs became warm as you rubbed them together. You yank down the material of your babydoll slip, exposing your brown nipples, using one hand to lightly rub at the hardening skin, using the other to hold his dick in your hand, dragging your mouth back around the shaft of it. He twitches in your mouth as you start to suckle, slurping heavily, saliva spurting in between the space of your lips each time his balls slam along your jaw. He keeps a grip on your onyx hair tighter—you’re nasty with it, guiding your head up and down erotically.

You then slide your hands down your stomach and thigh, coming around to meet with the inner part of it, brushing your fingers against your clit that throbs along your thong. It almost makes you flinch.

He watches you with lust-filled eyes, the ghost mask seeming to leer as you touch yourself. He feels as you tense up, “Be a big fuckin’ girl and make yourself feel good.” 

He guides your head faster, thrusting into your mouth with increasing force. His balls begin to slap loudly against your chin, precum leaking from the tip to coat your tongue.

“Call me baby,” you protest as you find the space to pull away, immediately going back to keeping your mouth full. You almost break, your voice feeble as you talk, “Want your fingers. Wanna squirt on them…” you can’t stop whining to him, moving your head back and forth, faster to meet the mean pace he gives.

“I know you fuckin’ heard what I said. Sink your fingers in,” he grunts to you, feeling the whimper around his dick, your fingers listening as you drag them down, nudging them at your opening. You can hear how wet you are, but your own aren’t enough. You need more. 

Your other hand is still locked around him, keeping your mouth steady as he has one hand on the back of your head, the other on your jaw, pulling it open wider as he fucks your face. 

“That’s fuckin’ good, baby. Listening good as fuck.”

You become frustrated as you pull back, pouting to him, “I can’t make myself cum…” 

You spit against his tip, now focusing in as it seems to be sensitive. You protect your teeth with your lips, sucking inward as you bob your head up and down, using your throat as you muffle out hums to add to his stimulation, talented in pleasuring him. 

He groans deeply, feeling your tongue continuously swirling around the tip, sending jolts straight to his entire body. 

“Fuck,” he aggressively grunts, “Ooh, shit. Baby. Keep doing that," he growls, his hips jerking slightly as he loses control for a second, pushing deeper into your mouth. "Gonna fill that pretty ass throat up."

That’s when you become more defiant—The pressure in between your legs is almost painful. You need him. You pull yourself back, placing yourself along the bed, spreading your knees apart, arching your back as you press your stomach against the sheets. Your face is tilted backwards to watch him, taking your hands as you spread yourself apart.

“Fill up my pussy, baby,” you whine, pitiful, but you didn’t care.

His eyes darkened with lust as he saw you spread yourself open for him, your juices dripping onto the sheets below. You’re grinding your clit against the pink comforter, making it a darker shade as it becomes drenched. He stalks towards the bed, fully ripping off his clothes in haste, dragging you fully to the end of the bed as his palms locked around your ankles. 

"Shit, look at that pretty ass pussy," he mutters, his gaze fixated on your glistening folds, “You want my cum, huh? Beg for it."

His words are demanding, but there's an underlying tone of pleasure and desire. He's eager to claim you.

But you’re even more eager.

 You grip his arm, pulling him down to where his back is along the sheets, climbing atop of him. You don’t forget to lock your mouth around his tip for a moment, dropping your lips down to reach his abdomen, saliva dragging out of your mouth, dribbling along your chin as you pull back, seeing as his abs tighten, giggling as that makes him give you a harsh spank to your ass. 

Your knees are on each side of him, already wrapping your fingers around his tip, guiding it as you rub it along your clit. 

You whimper, “Wanna slide down on your dick, baby. Tell me I can…”

“Go ‘head. Drop down, slowly.” 

You do as you're told, placing your hand along his stomach as you lean forward, sinking yourself down, his tip plunging in between your tight folds. He was like a monster, attempting to rip you in half. Your eyes lightly roll, your hips spazzing at the feeling. A baby gasp parts from your mouth as he roughly spanks you again, coaxing you to keep going. You sink yourself down farther, the heaviness of your ass sticking against his abdomen, his tip already kissing your cervix, it makes your face contort in an aching pleasure, so fucking horny as you already begin bouncing on him, your pussy squelching as you whimper from the slight pain.

It was like a soreness from a workout, a burn from a meal you couldn’t wait to cool down, you whine messily as you drive yourself wild, clapping your ass down against his thighs.

His eyes follow every movement of your hips, drinking in the sight of your ass slapping against his thighs. The lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh fill the room, mingling with your desperate moans of pleasure. He grips your hips tightly, fingers digging around into the soft flesh of your ass as he begins dragging you to meet your own downward motions.

"Yeah? You’ gonna keep fucking me like that? Like you needed this fuckin’ dick?”

You’re looking back as the skin of your ass shaking in his palms, sobbing already, eyes rolling back as you pout heavily, nodding your head as it falls back, whimpering out messily, “Yes, baby. Been wanting to bounce on your dick just like this…” 

You hiccup, your soft cry echoing along the walls, louder than your skin slapping against his, “So fuckin’ needy for you…”

His thumbs dig deeper into the supple cheeks of your skin, spreading them apart slightly as he watches himself disappear into you over and over.

"Pussy hungry as fuck, sucking my shit in…” He growls low in his throat, the vibrations sending tingles up your spine. 

"Keep going, needy ass fuckin’ girl—fuck,” he lowly moans, head falling back against the bed, mask tilting upwards. His hands move to grip your waist, helping pull you down onto him with force, his thick shaft stretching you impossibly wide. The sensation borders on painful, but the pleasure far outweighs it, making you pathetically cry out in ecstasy.

With a guttural groan, he thrusts up into you hard, burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches, a sharp cry escaping your lips at the sudden depth. He holds you there, still and deep, letting you adjust to the overwhelming fullness before starting to move once more. His hand is on your shoulder, slamming you back down, sounds erotically implausible. 

"You love this, don't you?" He growls, voice strained with pleasure. "Love being stuffed full of my dick,” His hands slide up your sides, fingers splaying across your ribs as he begins to piston in and out of you with relentless intensity.

He’s like a demon climbing out of hell for the first time. You keep up with him though, keeping your eyes locked on his as you groan, “Love it so fuckin’ much. Gonna’ cum in my tight pussy, baby?” You can hear the grunt he makes from that question, planting your feet along the bed as you raise your hips, dropping them down, “Hit my spot, baby. Wanna squirt all in your mouth soon.”

His grunts deepen into animalistic growls, the force of his thrusts growing harder, faster, more erratic. Sweat drips down from under his mask, tattooed muscles flexing beneath his skin. 

“Nasty ass fuckin’ mouth. I hear you, baby. ‘Gonna' drench me," he rasps, one hand moving between your bodies to rub at your clit in time with his strokes. 

His other hand grips your hip, using it as leverage to slam you down onto him, hitting that sensitive spot inside you with unrelenting precision. The wet squelching of your juices and the slap of skin on skin fills the air, punctuated by your high-pitched moans and his guttural sounds. He's close, you can tell, his movements becoming almost violent in their desperation.

“Fuck me from the back,” you beg, “Come fuck me, baby. That’s how I wanna cum,” you beg him, swirling your hips in circles, dragging your nails along his skin.

He flips you over onto your stomach without hesitation, looming over you with a predatory gleam in his masked gaze. One hand remains gripping your hip while the other moves around to grasp your throat, applying gentle pressure.

"You’ better be fuckin’ me back," he smacks his lips, “Keep asking for shit. Spoiled as fuck.”

With a sharp tug, he rubs his tip in between your folds, the sensitivity making you hiss a bit. But he does the opposite of what you expect, raising you up slightly to press your back against his chest, material of the mask pressed up against your face, almost to where you can feel his lips against your skin. 

You reach your hand behind yourself, holding him as he sinks himself in. You feel every inch as it goes in, sinking so deep it inflames your walls, your eyes rolling back as you gasp, “Oh, shit,” as you unexpectedly squirt, the fluid gushing out so harshly that it nearly pushes his dick out. Your thighs tremble as you shudder out in broken whines, his hand gripping tighter along your throat, hearing the arrogant chuckle in your ear.

He lets out a low, rumbling chuckle against your ear, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine even as your inner walls clench around him. His grip on your throat tightens fractionally, a subtle reminder of his dominance.

"Look at you, squirting like a fuckin’ faucet.”

You shriek as he spanks you, “So fuckin’ responsive for me. Love milking this pussy, baby. Goood fuckin’ girl,” he riles you up, withdrawing until just the tip remains inside,  slamming back in, driving deep once more, making you squirt out again.

Your hands scrabble for purchase on the sheets, reaching behind helplessly as you try to halt his hips, feeling as he yanks your hand behind your back. You plead, “W—wait, baby. Wait. Wait. Ooh, shi—oh—fuck. Fuck. Fuuuck…”

Your whine is so pretty, your body relaxing as if you’ve given up at this point, back to pouting as you can’t. Stop. Squirting. 

Tears well in your eyes, you’re crying at this point, your hips tensing, a soreness beginning to produce from your body pushing out so much energy. You’re moaning weakly as he coos behind you, “Yeah, baby. That’s good. Open up your pussy," his voice dripping with false sweetness. "I've got you."

With a sudden, brutal thrust, he buries himself inside you, grinding against your cervix. Your scream is muffled by his palm over your mouth as he holds you still, impaling you on his dick.

“Told you to fuck me back, your ass don’t fuckin’ listen,” he grunts, his hips beginning to piston in and out at a bullying pace. "Fuck, your pussy is perfect."

This is what you asked for. This is what you wanted—now you were paying for it. You’re sobbing in patterns, broken and repetitive, trapped as you can only whimper, “Please cum, baby. Cum in me. Fuckin’ fill me up, baby,” but this is your only way of escaping this depraved act.

He laughs cruelly, the sound echoing through the room as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. "You want my cum? Then fucking earn it, slutty ass fuckin’ girl. My slutty ass baby.” 

His grip on your throat tightens, cutting off your air supply as he fucks you even harder, each thrust jarring your entire body. The pressure builds in your core, your orgasm just out of reach.

With the last bit of strength you have, you apologize, “So sorry, baby. Didn’t listen. Lemme’ be your good girl,” as you begin to throw your ass back, slamming it along his abdomen, it’s nearly too slippery to have the skin stick together. You’ve coated him with your arousal, you have nothing left to give him, “Cum for me, baby. Cum inside me, need your cum, pretty boy…”

At your pitiful plea, he releases your throat, gripping your hips instead as he pounds into you mercilessly. His breathing grows ragged, muscles straining as he chases his release, his helpless moans are sexy, even a light whimper slipping out— it was rare for him to have. 

"Fuckin’ hell..." he grits out between clenched teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. "I’m about to bust, baby. Where you’ want it?”

“In me,” you whimper desperately, “Don’t be mean.”

The bastard. He chuckles, “Shut that shit up. I know.” 

With one final, intense thrust, his dick pulses as he unleashes a torrent of cum deep inside you. He pulls himself out to replace his dick with his fingers, rubbing chaotically in between your opening and your clit, knowing how you’d react to that. Your entire body spazzes as you shout, groaning into a scream as you gush out more cum, causing him to rip the mask off, burying his face in between your legs, lapping up the final orgasm that completely drains you. You’re crying and shaking, nearly dropping forward along the bed as he’s there to catch you. 

The familiar coconut scent of his dark hair rubs up against your cheek as he turns your face to kiss him, sloppily sinking his tongue into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself.

“That was good, baby,” Suguru grunts, both of you breathing heavily against one another, desire and passion filling the air. 

“We need to watch scary shit more often,” he holds your throat, talking within your ear, the breathless giggle only being your response for a moment. 

“Yeah, we do.”

[velvetchrry]

━━━━ THISTLE AND BARLEY

pairing: johnny “soap” mactavish x f!reader

2.7k. during a solo trip to the scottish highlands, you find yourself transported back in time.

The chill of the evening air prickles along your skin. The spring breeze envelopes you, circling her prey. You are a rabbit, and she is a fox. She waits, patiently, until you are unsuspecting, and then sinks her sharp teeth into your soft skin.

It seems like you are the only one to really feel the chill — but you are an outsider. An outlander. A stranger. There are a few other foreigners here like you, but mostly it’s the residents of Inverness.

You get some relief when passing by one of the many bonfires littered through this valley. The entire night sky was alight — but not with stars. No, those are almost impossible to see compared to last night. There are enough fires lit in the valley to cause light pollution to seep through to the night sky.

Everyone here is clothed in a flowy, bohemian white gown. A beautiful crown of flowers rests atop your heads. Beltane. The official start to summer.

You didn’t know you would be here tonight until the last minute. The hostess of your bed and breakfast was the one who mentioned it to you this morning. It’s your last night in the Highlands so you figured, why not? Your solo travel adventures are about to come to an end. What’s one more night with no sleep?

A lit cave sparks your interest. It’s small, basically just an opening that goes 8 feet or so, but it’s lit up with candles everywhere. They're arranged in some sort of pattern, but you can’t make out exactly what it’s supposed to be. The air in here is even colder somehow — settling in your bones. You cover your upper body with your arms as best you can, unable to stop yourself from entering this ethereal place.

When you get closer to the wall, you see it has something painted on it. The paint is hard to see, even with the candle light. The same pattern is marked on the cave wall that the candles make on the floor. It’s old, flaking. You let out a breath and you watch as it rises in front of you.

The wall is shifting. Shimmering. It looks celestial. Like the night sky. You rub your eyes. It must be the heat from all the candles.

You turn around to leave but are startled by the sight of a woman at the entrance. You recognize her — it’s the owner of your bed and breakfast. A greeting almost escapes your lips but when you catch the look on her face you can’t seem to speak. Mouth hanging open, you just stare at her. She glides to you effortlessly, lithe for her age. Her fingertips are black as they reach out to you. It happens in slow motion. At least, that’s how it feels. She slowly reaches out to touch you and you stumble back, almost into the wall, just out of range.

“Yer where yer meant to be lass. Remember that. You have to remember. This was destined for ya.”

You shake your head to try and get a grasp on what she’s saying to you. Your tongue is suddenly heavy in your mouth. “Wh.. what?”

“Goodbye, lass.”

Before you can open your mouth to speak, she pushes against your shoulder with a firm hand. You stumble, and brace for impact into the cave wall.

Falling. You’re falling. It’s black.

There is no cave wall.

“D’ya think she’s a witch?”

It's morning, that much you can tell. Birdsong flits down to your ears and the sun is bright against your closed eyes. The grass caresses your body.

“Dinnae think so. Not sure what to make of ‘er.”

You try to remember what happened last. How you got here. Where you are. You brain is fuzzy, feeling like you’re suffering from a hangover. Wait — that’s not right, you didn’t drink last night.

“Let’s just leave her.”

Beltane. The celebration. That’s where you were. In the valley near Inverness. You were wandering. There were fires. Dancing.

“No. We’ll bring her to the castle.”

The cave. Oh god, the lady from your bed and breakfast. She followed you, she pushed you. She said something to you. What did she say to you?

“Yer off yer fuckin’ head, boy. What’ll yer Da say?”

You have to get out of here. You are supposed to be out of here. Your flight out of Inverness leaves this morning. How did this happen?

“I cannae just leave her here.”

Sunlight floods your eyes when they shoot open. A groan escapes you, and you cover your head with your forearm. You struggle to fully sit up, headache assaulting all of your senses.

“Aye, lassie? Ye hearin’ me?”

You rub your eyes and look up to who’s speaking to you. It’s a man in his late 20s. He’s wearing a kilt and it isn’t until you look around that you notice almost all of them are. You saw a few men in Inverness wearing kilts but, not quite like this. They look like an authentic historical recreation.

He’s… handsome. The one talking to you. Pools of blue eyes stare into yours, a hand reaching out to you. You gingerly take it, and he helps you stand. “Ye got a name, hen?”

Still in a bit of a daze, you give him your name and take a second to get your bearings. The cave you remember from last night is just behind you — but there are no candles, or paint on the walls. There’s no evidence anyone was in this valley last night. Where are the pits and scorch marks from the bonfires? What about the string lights that were strung along the tree trunks? Even the grass doesn't look like it’s been trampled on by a hundred or so pairs of feet.

“I’m Johnny of Clan MacTavish. May I ask, what’re ye doin’ out here hen?”

You swallow thickly. “I.. erm.. it’s Beltane. The party?”

“A druid.” The tallest one says. He’s one of the ones not in a kilt and has a deep British accent.

“Ah,” Johnny’s face lights up in understanding. “And yer out here alone?”

“I… uh…” you stutter. You’re not sure what’s happening. They really don't know about the party? Most of them look like and sound locals. “I guess… I am?”

“Where ya from?” one of them asks. He’s got a stout build and a thick set of facial hair.

“Well, I’m an American… I’m just… just traveling…”

You pause when you notice their interests peak.

“Which colony ye fae?” someone asks.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “Colony?”

“She’s a British spy!” another shouts. You flinch.

“Ah, she’s no bloody spy. Look at her,” the tall one from earlier says. “Aye, we never had any spies like her before,” the stout one agrees, coming up to Johnny’s side.

Johnny hums. “I cannae leave you out here to fend on your own, spy or no. Can we take ye somewhere?”

You pause for a moment before speaking. “Inverness?”

Johnny nods and his men grumble, but go back to their horses. He motions for you to follow. You watch as he struggles to get up, wincing in pain and almost falling. The tall one comes up behind you and grabs you by the hips — lifting you ontop of Johnny’s horse and causing you to yelp. “Up ya go.”

Your body goes rigid as Johnny reaches around you to grab the reins. “Ain’t gonna hurt ye, hen,” he murmurs. He kicks the horse into gear and you’re off, still wondering what’s happening to you.

Maybe someone is filming a movie nearby.

You don’t have much of anything to hold onto, so you keep your legs clenched, body stiffened. Johnny notices this, wrapping his big arm around your waist for support. The group keeps a brisk pace, chatting with one another about things you’re unfamiliar with.

Panic starts to seep in when you see the River Ness, which bysects the city. “Where are we? Where’s the city? It should be visible by now.”

“Yer looking straight at it.”

Your breathing picks up rapidly and you try to focus on not hyperventilating. This was not the Inverness you had been in just yesterday.

“No…,” your voice is a soft whisper. “No, no, no… this can’t be right.”

The horse comes to a stop as Johnny tugs on the reins. “What is it, lass?”

The men start to grumble around you as the rest of the group comes to a stop. “Where’s the city? The buildings? Where’s the airport? This is… this isn’t right.”

“I dinnae ken what yer talking about hen but… that’s Inverness up ahead,” Johnny says softly to you.

“I… I don’t…” you stutter.

“Aye, what's goin’ on? Why are we stoppin’?” someone shouts out.

Johnny shoots him a look and walks his horse a little ways up to give you two a bit more privacy. Tears start to well in your eyes, and your nose has that familiar prickle like it’s gonna start running. You’re afraid to ask, but you have to know. “What year is it?”

If Johnny is confused why you’re asking, he doesn't show it. He speaks in a matter of fact tone when he says, “1724.”

No… how could this happen? You can just jump back in time 300 years… this is impossible. This can’t be real… this can’t be. But you saw — you saw right where Inverness is supposed to be. You recognized the landmarks. And it’s just… not right.

“Do ye still want to go to Inverness, hen?”

What are you going to do? There’s no aiport, hell — the America you’d go back to wouldn’t be the same. And what, do you hop on a boat for months and go back to a different world?

“I… I…” You suck in a shaky breath. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” you finally admit.

“I’ll take ye to the Castle,” Johnny states confidently. “Give ya a chance to figure out where yer going.”

A single tear slips down your cheek. Johnny calls out to the group that you’re headed to the Castle and you tune out the cries of them asking why the hell you were going with instead dumping you in Inverness.

The Scottish countryside passes by in a teary-eyed blur. It’s like you blinked and suddenly night is falling, the sun almost completely dipped below the horizon. Your stomach aches with hunger. You’re in an unfamiliar area, surrounded on all sides by trees. Johnny slows his horse, and the rest of his party follows suit. The tall one from earlier glides off his horse with ease and walks over to pick you up off of Johnny’s horse. You watch in a daze as he also gives Johnny a hand, as he struggles to get off his horse.

You look up at him after he is back on the ground. His white shirt seeps red near his bicep. You're not sure how you didn't notice it before. It’s got a brownish tinge to it now.

“You’re hurt.”

He waves you off. “Ach, jus’ a scratch, bonnie.”

He doesn’t stop you, just observes as you walk over to his side. You gently pry back the sticky fabric of his shirt. There’s a decent sized gash through his arm, red and angry. It looks like the start of an infection; like it might need stitches.

“It's not just a scratch if you need help on and off your horse. Did you clean this after it happened?”

“Clean it?” he tilts his head slightly as he asks.

“Like, rinse it? With water, at least?”

He shakes his head no.

You bite your lip as you contemplate. “Does… er… does anyone have any alcohol?”

Some of the guys burst into laughter. One hands you a flask. “Dinnae think you’d be one to get pished, lassie!” he exclaims.

You ignore him and get to work, ripping the bottom of your flimsy white dress. It tears easily under your fingers. You push it into Johnny’s hands and he holds onto the fabric unquestioningly while you uncork the flask with your teeth and again peel back his shirt.

“This is gonna sting a little,” you admit quietly.

He winces and grunts as you pour the alcohol down his arm, the men breaking out into cries of protest at the loss of booze. You place the cork back in the bottle and drop it on the ground. The man who gave you the flask quickly swipes it away from you before you can waste anymore.

Johnny places the ripped fabric of your dress in your outstretched hands. You tie it tightly around his arm, and while he grimaces, he doesn’t complain. You give him a gentle pat on the shoulder when you’re done.

“You’re probably gonna need stitches, but that should hold you over for a bit. Hopefully it’s not infected, or you're gonna need something stronger than alcohol.”

A voice from directly behind you makes you jump out of your skin. “Told ya she was a druid,” the tall one says.

“Aye,” Johnny agrees. “We could use someone with yer skills at the Castle. Our druid can’t…. well she ain’t as nimble as she used ta be.”

You aren’t sure what to say to that so you watch silently as the boys set up camp for the evening. “We’ll reach home come morning,” Johnny tells you at one point. The sun is gone now, the temperature dropping rapidly. The Beltane gown provides no heat and you scoot as close to the fire as you can without singeing off your eyebrows. You ditched your flower crown long ago.

The tall one hands you some food and you eat quietly while the rest of them chat around you. The stout one from earlier and the tall one sit next to each other and observe you, talking lowly to themselves. You try your best to ignore them.

Johnny walks over and sits next to you. “You should get some sleep, hen.” He’s close enough to you that his kilt brushes against your leg.

You swallow thickly and gnaw on your lip. You nod your head in agreement but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to sleep tonight. The reality is, these men are strangers in a strange time — even if one of them has been showing you kindness.

Johnny moves even closer to you and you can’t help but tense up. He's maneuvering his kilt around, tugging on the end of it.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my plaid loose. Cannae let ye sleep in just that shift. You’ll freeze.”

You cross your arms, trying to keep in more warmth. “I’ll be fine.”

He covers your shoulders and instantly you feel warmer. A scent of musk and pine surrounds you, earthy and male. He opens his arm to you, waiting for you to lean against him.

“I meant what I said bonnie, I won’t hurt ye. I’m just keeping warm. Yer teeth chattering is making my bones rattle in my head.”

You can’t help the small chuckle that you produce hearing him tease you a little bit. It serves to make you feel even more comfortable around him. You nod and move in further under the plaid, while he wraps his good arm around you and rubs up and down your arm.

“Yer frozen solid,” he murmurs. “Why ye out here in just a shift anyway?”

“It was… uh… apart of the festival.”

He hums in response, still rubbing you arm up and down, up and down. You find a comfortable silence, leaning against him and listening to the conversations around you. Johnny adds his two cents every so often but mostly just sits beside you quietly.

You can feel your eyelids start to get droopy, your head nodding off every so often, but you fight it. You fight the urge to fall asleep. It’s so much harder now that you're warm. So hard when you’re feeling a small bit of comfort from the touch you're receiving.

You don’t even realize your head is on Johnny’s shoulder right away. You start to sit up, but he grips you a little more firmly to his side.

“Sleep, lassie. Yer safe with me.”

[thedeafprophet]

At long last, I have finished my pixel art attempt of the six seven fanarts challenge~

This was a really fun practice of converting various designs into pixel format, it was a good challenge especially that hat

Individual drawings and tagging who suggested who under the cut!

Furnace suggested by @yoshicolonoscopyfootageofficial

Tatterdemalion suggested by @the-golliest-gee-williker

Hephaesta suggest by @the-dye-stained-socialite

The Youthful Naturalist suggested by the-golliest-gee-williker [again lol]

January suggested by @house-of-mirrors

[and ill be honest i did TRY to do the mask but it was not. working. so i gave up lmao]

The Bohemian Sculptress suggested by @press-f-to-rat

Mr Stones suggested by @bizarrebazaar13

Also if anyone wants the sprite images at their original size for whatever reasons, feel free to ask~

[thinkingflesh]

In an alternate universe where I'm famous, get to walk carpets, and attend high-brow award shows, I'd always be suiting the best archival runway looks from the 90s. A prime example would be any Anna Sui fall-winter collection between '90 and '95—every piece, every look, balances the gothic/romantic and the whimsical bohemian with a drama like no other. Her kitschy and feverishly fabulous older sister, Bestey Johnston, is unapologetically girly with a touch of punk, especially in the F/W '97 collection. Obviously, we can't forget D&G's iconic and dreamy creation of the Sicilian widow aesthetic, particularly in their '95 and '97 F/W shows. Going to bed dreaming of these looks.