#but depending on this is done and how content is going to drop this could potentially be a good choice for the majority of the players

[thefirstknife]

Honestly, I'd personally love to see D2 take some breaks. Maybe have 2-3 years between expansions with, instead of seasonal content, smaller permanent content drops (alongside our few annual special events) between. It would mean longer without brand new content, but it would also mean the new content could be more expansive, more polished, and hopefully devs having even better working conditions. Obviously the "MORE ALL THE TIME MORE MORE MORE" crowd would never survive that, but it's sort of what's needed if they want better content. (But also I suspect the only way D2 could do that would be if they swapped to a sub model, and I don't see that happening. It also wouldn't work great if they kept their FOMO model alongside a sub model, vs what some other games do where you can sub and unsub as desired and won't miss out on important story, lore, etc. content)

Same, I would really love more time between content too. I don't personally mind seasons, but I think seasons should be longer or have more time between them. Definitely fewer seasons per year.

But yeah, it would need some massive changes to how the game works, how content is managed, what players can expect and so on. Historically Destiny gamers have been quite annoyed by any longer waits between content drops which is probably partially what inspired the seasonal model. And any normal player is often oversaturated with this model as it is now, but the same people who complained before are complaining now as well. So there's no winning here with the Gamers (TM).

They did announce some changes post-TFS that they'll tell us about during the showcase so we'll probably get some insight into how things will go after. I assume there will be some changes to this model. I hope they go for more breaks and longer dev cycles.

[rememberwren]

Practice

About this: certified drabble gone out of hand. best friend!Kyle Gaz Garrick/fem!reader. PIV, fingering, oral (fem receiving). King of your firsts, you ask your best friend Kyle to take your virginity.

Part 1 here.

-

“Kyle?”

“Hm?” 

“Can I talk to you about something?” 

He sucks in a breath, like you’ve asked for something painful. “No can do, honey pie. I’m just here to sit in silence.”

You roll your eyes, though his joke breaks through the ice of your nerves and melts that anxious, frozen part inside you. Kyle’s good at that—putting you at ease. He does it in such easy, flippant ways that you aren’t even sure if it’s being done intentionally. Just another excuse added to the grocery-list-length of reasons why you’re here now, asking him for this. 

“If I had a favor…a big one. Would you do it?” 

He grins, a flash of pale, straight teeth. “That’s totally dependent on the favor. Does it involve burying a body?” 

“No.”

“—because my answer is yes—“

“Would you have sex with me? For my first time.” The mirthful expression drops from his face, all teasing fading away. He turns to you—literally angles his body toward you—to give you his full attention. You do your best to meet his eyes. See, you can make eye contact too. You’re to be taken seriously.  

He blinks placidly and asks: “Why me?” 

“We’ve practiced stuff before,” you begin to recite, though that grocery list of reasons why Kyle would make the perfect party in your brain has suddenly gone frustratingly fuzzy. “You make me feel safe, and I’m—like, really attracted to you.”

His mouth wobbles, threatening to grin. “Yeah?” he asks, playing at unaffected. He runs a hand over his shorn hair and answers for himself: “Yeah.” 

“Kyle. Focus.”

“Okay, okay, how’s this for focus: all those things you just said? Those are things you’ll probably feel for someone in the future. A partner. Somebody you really want to give yourself to. So why do it now with me? Why not wait for it to be real?” he asks. 

It’s…it’s a good question. With a really good answer. But telling Kyle that this is real for you? That’s not an option. So ignoring the obvious, what’s another good reason you could possibly have for not wanting to wait for Mx. Right?  

Kyle’s waiting, watching, brows raised in an smug expression that says, See. I’ve just talked you down from a dangerous ledge. You’re welcome, when you finally settle on the only excuse you can think of.

“Because,” you say, “I wanna feel good now.” 

-

He can get behind that. He can get underneath it, on top of it. Anywhere it wants him—Kyle can get there. Because you deserve to feel good, and there’s nobody in this godforsaken world who deserves to be making you feel good, but Kyle comes close. You chose him, after all, and he thinks that must stand for something. 

He sinks into the mindset the way other men must slip into well-fitting suits; this is tailor-made for him. He’ll give you the princess treatment: dinner, back to his place for wine, then he’ll sip the taste of it off of your tongue and—

At the first sign of his acquiescence, you whip your shirt off over your head and his brain blue screens. 

“Whoa,” he says. He gives himself a solid moment to eat you up with his eyes: your soft curves, your dimples, the bra you’ve chosen with the lacy edges—god, did you somehow know that he’s a sucker for lace? After the moment ends he contents himself to going hungry, scoops up your shirt and hands it back to you. “I didn’t mean now.” 

You frown, pressing your shirt to your chest to protect your modesty. “When, then?” 

“When I have the chance to treat you right,” says Kyle, laying a hand on your thigh, smoothing his thumb along the curve of your knee. “To take you out first. Dress up. Light some scented candles, I don’t know—“

“That sounds like it will take forever,” you grumble. “Can’t we fast forward? Give me a sec.”

Brushing his hand away, you disappear into your bedroom and then the light to the en suite bathroom clicks on. You leave your shirt behind. Kyle’s fingers are drawn to it, feeling the warmth from where it pressed against your skin. He wonders if it smells like you, but Jesus he’s not going to sniff your fucking shirt. He’s not that desperate—

God, it smells good. 

You reappear just a split second after he tosses your shirt back into its place on the sofa, and you set your boon down on the coffee table. It’s a scented candle, blueberry, half burned off. You flick the sparkwheel of the lighter in your hand and tip the candle dangerously sideways to light it. 

“There!” you say cheerfully. “Candles. All my dreams are suddenly coming true.”

“You are a cheeky little brat. You want in my pants that bad?” he asks, just to watch the way your mouth drops, words turning into stuttered syllables. He laughs and pats his lap. “C’mere.” 

You go, kneeling over him. His hips are slim, but it’s still a stretch for you, his hands finding your waist and helping to keep you steady, thumbs smoothing against the bare skin of your belly. He draws you against him in a hug, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. His hands run up and down the length of your back, soft and slow, drawing shivers from you. 

“What’re you so eager for, hm?” Kyle wonders. On his lap like this, arms looped around his neck, you have a small height advantage. He pulls back to look up at you, eyes tracing over your nose down to your mouth and back up again, memorizing your features in the dim lamplight. “Don’t even know what you’re missing, do you?” 

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” you murmur, playing with the collar of his shirt. It tickles, but he doesn’t laugh. “Virginity is an outdated concept anyway.” 

“You want it?” 

Your brows raise. “Yes?” 

He’s a bastard for saying: “Don’t sound too sure to me.” 

“I want it, Kyle. Come on, don’t tease me.” 

“Hey—if we do this, you’re in charge,” he tells you, finally relenting against his body’s fervent desire to see his cock harden. You shift on his lap and he has to pause speaking, hands flexing against you. “Whatever you say goes. Whenever you want to stop, we stop. Alright?” 

“Sounds like a lot of responsibility.”. 

“Tough,” he says. “Those are the rules, honey pie. Take it or leave it.” 

“Can I make my first rule?” 

“I’m all ears.” 

You clear your throat and mutter into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, “Kyle, I want you to be in charge.” 

Kyle’s breath leaves him in a rush. He’s a bad man. He must be, for getting so drunk off of those words. For wanting so badly to be in charge of you and your pretty body, for finding your overwhelming trust in him absolutely heady.

He leans up and kisses you. It’s not the first time you’ve ever kissed, but it’s easily the best. You take it to a hungry place and he doesn’t even attempt to rein you in, just sighs into your mouth and sucks on your tongue, your kisses turning into a heated give-and-take that reminds him of ocean waves he wants to be swept away in. 

You settle more firmly in his lap, fingers stroking up through his shaved hair. Your nails against his scalp makes him groan. The two of you kiss until your mouths are numb, until you have devolved into little thrusts against him, seeking friction. 

When you seem well and truly desperate, Kyle slips his hands up from your hips to cup your breasts, thumbs tracing your skin above the cups of your bra. 

“Take it off,” you gasp against his mouth. “Please Kyle, take it off—“ 

“Pretty pushy for the girl who isn’t in charge anymore.” 

“Kyle!” 

“Alright, alright,” he says, hands tracing around your ribs to the clasp at the back. He undoes it on the first try and mutters under his breath: “Score.” 

“What?” you pant, slipping your arms from the straps. The bra comes off, and tumbles from the couch to the floor, but neither of you pay it any mind. 

Kyle can’t speak. He’s never seen you here before, miles of new flesh on display. Your nipples pucker in the cool air under his stare, and he reaches out to rub the pad of his thumb over one, watching you shudder. When he cups your breasts in his palms he can’t help but think how well they fit in his hands, how every part of you seems molded for him. He’s not going to be able to let you go after this. It’s like being behind the wheel skidding on black ice. He sees the collision course he is on, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it. 

“Are you sensitive here?” he asks, thumbing at the hard peak of one breast. 

“Isn’t everyone?” you breathe.  

“No,” says Kyle with a warm laugh. He pinches you softly, attuned to the breath you suck in and the way your body trembles. You are a sensitive little thing, untouched by other hands, and fuck, Kyle’s never had a thing for virgins but he’s got a thing for you, and it threatens to destroy him. 

“Gonna ruin you,” he says, leaning in to nuzzle at the hammering pulse in your throat. He opens his mouth and scrapes his teeth over your collarbone just to hear the way you squeak.  

“Do it,” you whisper, hips grinding down against the hard line of his clothed erection. “Come on, Kyle, you’re all talk—“ 

“Me—?”

“—said I wanted to feel good,” you say. “Why am I still waiting?” 

Well. It’s logic he can’t argue with. 

He urges you off of his lap. “Bedroom.” 

“Alright,” you laugh. 

Just after you stand on shaking legs, Kyle adds: “Race ya.” 

-

Kyle launches himself over the back of the couch in a move that would not look nearly so smooth if you tried, socked-feet slipping on the hardwood as he races toward the bedroom. 

“Kyle, you cheater!” you howl, rushing after him.

“Blow out that candle, it’s a fire hazard!” he shouts behind him, sending you whirling back to the coffee table to huff a breath against the flame. 

By the time you make it into the bedroom, he’s reclined on your bed, ankles crossed, hat resting over his face like he is taking a restful nap. You’d believe it if it weren’t for the erection tenting his jeans. 

“If you’re tired, I can leave you to nap,” you snark, feigning for the door. 

Kyle whips his hat off of his head and tosses it like a frisbee with frightening dexterity. The hard brim clatters against your knuckles and makes you gasp, clutching them against your chest as you stare at him in shock. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Kyle says. He sheds his shirt in that slick little maneuver men have mastered, gripping the back collar and tugging it up and over his head. It reveals a length of dark, soft skin stretched taut over muscle that has your mouth watering. You’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times—God, you’ve seen him naked, really, though not all at once—but it never stops having such a heated effect on you. He kneels up and comes to the edge of the bed, sitting on the side, reaching out one hand for you, palm soft and facing up. “C’mere.”

You go to him, taking his hands and lacing your fingers together. He strokes his thumb against yours. 

“You wanna finish undressing me?” he asks. 

“Do you want me to finish undressing you?” 

Kyle stares. Then a slow smile spreads across his face. He gets it; he always does. Standing up, he guides your hand to rest flat against his abs, drawing it downward toward his belt buckle. He says: “Undress me, then.”

Your hands shake as you unfasten his belt. You don’t bother slipping it free of the loops, just let it dangle open while unfastening his jeans. His erection makes that a little more difficult than it might have been otherwise, and every time your knuckles brush against him, he gives little sighs that go straight to your head. 

He’s not wearing any underwear. 

“Gaz you devil.” 

“That’s me,” he says with a warm smile. His fingers find the waistband of your leggings, and it’s his turn to draw them down your legs and let you brace yourself on his broad shoulders while he helps you out of them. With any other man you might have been shy, but there’s no room for it with Gaz. The way he looks at you takes up all that space in your brain for anxiety. He looks at you like he’s seeing artwork, like he wants to pin you to the wall and stare at you for the rest of his life. 

“Bed time,” he says, coaxing you down onto the soft duvet. You shift to scoot back but his hands grip your thighs, fingers denting the soft flesh as he tugs you back toward the edge of the bed in a show of strength that has your heart hammering. He kneels and spreads your thighs. Then he shuts his eyes, muttering under his breath. 

You lean up onto your elbows. “What is it?” 

His eyes flicker open. “In my house we pray before we eat, thank you.” 

“Kyle!”

He’s still laughing when his mouth presses against you. You slip off of your elbows and onto your back, both hands clasped over your eyes as he licks a broad stripe over your folds. Gaz eats pussy with remarkable tenderness, no hint of teeth, all tongue and soft kisses. He lets you hide your face and muffle your noises but draws the line when you try to close your legs with his head still between them. Winding his arms up over your thighs, he pins them open to the bed with his forearms, hands framing your cunt nicely. His thumbs slip in your own arousal when he tries to spread your folds too, and in the end he gives up, burying his face deeper into you to tongue at your entrance. 

He draws back for breath at one point, his pretty jaw smeared with your slick. He sounds winded when he asks: “What do you think, honey? Can you cum like this?” 

You continue covering your eyes with one hand, but the other reaches down to grip at his short hair and guide his mouth back to your clit. He chuckles against you but takes the hint, lapping the flat of his tongue at that aching epicenter of nerves, taking it into his mouth and suckling with sweetness. 

You’re climbing that first peak when he carefully slips his first finger inside you, giving you just enough to whet your appetite. You hadn’t realized how badly you craved something inside you until you had that slender finger to grip, but now you want more. 

“Another, Kyle, please,” you ask. 

He groans, mouth full of you, and shifts on his knees. Pulling back, he guides two fingers into you, easy as anything. “I love your manners. You’re so fucking good, you know that? So good.” 

He stops talking before he can make you uncomfortable—knows the way your chest feels fileted open with any kind of praise or compliment—and gets back to his important work. With his fingers gently working you open and his mouth on your clit, it takes hardly any time for the pleasure to crest, the muscles in your belly tensing as your pleasure draws tight and then snaps clean in two. Your toes curl, groan bitten off as you clamp your mouth shut, pussy spasming around his fingers. He works you through it, dark eyes shut like he’s savoring the taste of you. 

“Can you take more?” he asks, mouth wet, lips swollen. 

Your head bobs in a nod, throat dry from all the sounds you’ve been making. Kyle’s grin is beatific, and he leans down to kiss your closest thigh while he works a third finger into you. This one gives you a pleasant stretch, but there is no pain; you are plenty wet and relaxed. 

“You want me to use a condom?” he asks, smoothing his free hand over your belly to watch the muscles jump and twitch at his soft touch. “You been taking your pill everyday?” 

You roll your eyes. “Jesus, yes, Kyle I’ve been taking my birth control. Do you—?”

“Nope,” he says, shaking his head. “This one’s on you. Condom or no condom.” 

“Could we—without?” 

“We could,” he teases with a smile. He stands, fingers slipping free from inside you. It leaves you feeling empty, aching. 

You hope that he’ll make you cum again. 

Leaning over you, he plants a hand on either side of you and kisses you, still tasting faintly of where his mouth has been. You loop you arms around his neck, pulling him down until he rests his weight against you, chest-to-chest, your legs hooked around his waist. When he pulls back, it’s just to encourage you higher up onto the mattress so he can follow, finding his home once again in the hollow of your thighs. He says: “Let me know if anything hurts, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, looking up at him. Suddenly it doesn’t feel like there’s enough breath in your lungs. You feel starstruck by him, by the look of concentration on his face as he angles his hips until his tip brushes against your folds. Slowly, he slips inside you, and it’s a fullness you’ve never known from your own fingers or even his. Your eyes fall shut, but your mouth can’t help smiling, beaming practically. 

“Yeah?” Kyle laughs breathlessly. “That good already?” 

You get the giggles. 

“Not the best time to laugh at a man, you might give him a complex,” Kyle says, grinning. 

“All men deserve complexes.” 

“Except for me.” 

“Sure.” 

He sinks in, deeper, deeper until there’s nowhere left for him to go. His forehead brushes against your own, and your eyes open to find his own closed, mouth parted as he pants softly, looking almost as wrecked as you feel. He opens his eyes and catches you looking, but instead of calling you out, he just cocks his head, giving one of his pretty, closed-lip smiles. 

He sets a slow rhythm to start with, and it’s not enough. Your ankles lock around his back, urging him on, fingers scrambling for purchase against the smooth skin of his shoulders. Every thrust drags against the wet, swollen walls of your cunt, and at the apex his pubic bone meets your clit in a touch that’s nearly soft as a kiss. 

“Is it good for you?” you wonder, taking note of his uncharacteristic silence. 

He drops his head to rest in the dark juncture between your neck and shoulder, kissing you there. “Best it’s ever been,” he admits with a little laugh. “Your pussy is perfect. I’m trying not to cum and end things early.” 

You groan. Something about that knowledge makes the heat in your belly rise up to a boil. You clench around him on instinct, and he hisses a breath against your neck, then teases the spot with his teeth. When he’s drawn blood to the surface of your skin, he leans up onto his elbows to admire his work. His mouth is swollen, but he looks unquestionably pleased with himself.  

For a while the two of you continue on like that: his lazy thrusts and mouth leaving bruises on your neck. Bracing himself on one elbow, he takes your hand and kisses your fingertips before guiding it down between you both toward your pussy. 

“Make yourself feel good,” he says. “You probably can’t cum just from this.” 

Your body agrees. He felt good inside you, but it isn’t until you touch your clit that you feel the first tendrils of that addictive heat in your belly. You chase it immediately, eyes falling shut as your fingers work faster. It’s different with him inside you—like there’s no room for the pleasure to fizzle out and die the way it sometimes does at your own touch. Instead he drives you higher, especially as his tight-knit control wavers and his hips drive into you with more force. 

You forget to tell him when you’re close. It creeps up on you, really. All at once your muscles seize, everything focused on that narrow place between your legs and the epicenter of an orgasm that has your back arching until your breasts press flush against his chest. (You hear him suck in a breath like you’ve stabbed him, his voice shaky when he asks: “Are you cumming?” but there’s no breath to answer him with.) There’s no more room for your hand to work but Kyle’s thrusts drag you through the aftershocks. It seems to go on forever, your sounds embarrassing but your brain wiped clean of embarrassment. 

“I’m not pulling out unless you tell me to,” he says once your ears have stopped ringing. He sounds strained, his chest brushing against your nipples with every shallow pant. “So jot that down.” 

“Don’t want you to,” you admit, boneless. “I want to know what it feels like when you cum inside me.” 

Kyle moans quietly. His head drops, forehead resting against your own as his thrusts grow hectic. He mutters the quietest fuck in your ear when he cums, filling you with a rush of wet warmth that turns the sounds of his cock slick and lewd as he works himself through it with your pussy. 

When he pulls out, it’s jarring. You feel so empty. He kneels back on his heels and spreads your thighs to watch his own spend leak from your entrance and says it again, that quiet little fuck that makes you feel invincible. 

Collapsing on the bed beside you, he finds your mouth, cradling your head in one of his hands, turning you to angle your mouth just right for his tongue. 

“You were perfect,” he says when he breaks the kiss. His knuckles skim your cheekbone. “Thank you. For choosing me.” 

You nod, throat suddenly tight. It’s over now, time to return to reality. Except you don’t want it to be over. You don’t want a reality without Kyle by your side or in your bed. How did you think that this would be a good idea? How did you think you could be so intimate with him and just let him go? Stupidly your eyes burn, and he must see something on your face because he rushes to assure you: “Hey, we’re okay. Nothing’s different now, yeah?” 

Yeah, you think dully. That’s the problem. 

[nyankochan]

TWST Headcanons: Housewardens at Disney World

Pairing: boyfriend!housewarden x gn!reader

Content warning: none

A/n: inspired by my recent trip to Disney. For sake of the story, it will be at Magic Kingdom at Disney World in Florida (though I have been to the one in California and Tokyo!)

Riddle Rosehearts

Has never been to Disney before. It’s his first time

Lowkey scared of roller coasters and you tease him about whether or not he’s actually tall enough to ride

Fantasyland is his favorite area. Really liked Its a Small World

Did like the Mad Tea Party at first, but the spinning made him motion sick and he was pretty much done after that

Wants to get autographs from the characters, but worries it seems too childish. You have to basically initiate every character interaction

Definitely gets a sunburn from waiting outside in the long lines

Gets pins as souvenirs for Ace, Deuce, Trey, and Cater

You two get matching keychains which he clips to his school bag as a reminder of your trip together

Leona Kingscholar

Farena was taking Cheka and forced Leona to go along to make it a family trip. He begrudgingly agreed to go along since he was allowed to bring you.

Begrudgingly also wears the “Kingscholar Family Disney Trip” shirt you and his sister-in-law get

You guys stay at one of the park resorts

Leona really has no interest in any of the little rides, though he puts up with it because it excites you.

His favorite area is Frontierland. Big Thunder Mountain is his favorite ride (though he will never tell you that)

Also really liked Jungle Cruise and Pirates of the Caribbean rides.

Hates waiting in lines and buys the fast past for everything

Doesn’t want any souvenirs (thinks they’re dumb) but caves and gets a couple pins and a matching shirt for you guys to wear at the next park you go to

He’s honestly ready to go after a few hours. The walking and heat get on his nerves, but he sticks it out for you (and Cheka)

Azul Ashengrotto

Also his first time to Disney

Complains about the price of the food (it’s freaking expensive so who can blame him)

Also not really a big rollercoaster fan, but doesn’t mind going on some of the rides like Peter Pan’s Flight and Under the Sea-Journey of the Little Mermaid.

Gets motion sick

While on Tiana’s Bayou Adventure, the ride captured an ugly photo of him screaming during the big drop and you refuse to delete it, despite his protests.

Turns collecting and trading pins with the cast members into a literal auction. Manages to get a bunch of rare and exclusive pins

Blushes furiously when taking pictures with any of the Disney princesses

Nearly passes out from exhaustion by the time you guys make it to your hotel. He’s never walked so much in his entire life

Kalim Al-Asim

World’s biggest Disney Kid

You guys probably stay at one of the top resorts right by the park, so you get there right as it opens.

Offered to buy out the entire park but you vehemently opposed.

Loves Adventureland. The flying carpet ride is his favorite

You practically have to keep a tight leash on him or else he’ll run off without you

Very much spends money carelessly in the gift shop. He wants to get a souvenir for EVERYONE he knows and whatever you want he will get without hesitation

Buys several pairs of ears and depending on where you’re at in the park, he rotates them out to be able to wear each one.

Enjoys taking pictures with all the characters. His autograph book is basically filled by the end of the day

Gets you two basically VIP seats to the firework show at the end of the night. You have the perfect view

Vil Scheonheit

Wears matching couple Disney shirts

Is overly prepared: sunblock, check. Water bottles, check. Snacks, check. Umbrella, check. Rain poncho, check. Anything else you could possible need, he has it in his bag

Takes the world’s best photos of Cinderella’s castle. How he managed to do that with so many people is a mystery. (He doesn’t post anything until after you leave to avoid fans)

The rides sometimes take photos of the guests during them. Every photo Vil looks flawless while they manage to catch you screaming or not paying attention. It’s infuriating

Honestly, Vil cares more about taking pictures with the characters than getting on any actual rides, but you do a nice mix of both.

People lowkey mistake him as a prince or someone as part of the cast that they can get an autograph from

Refuses to get on any water rides or rides on water as he’s worried it would ruin his hair and makeup

During the fireworks show, pulls you in close to kiss you in front of the castle. Props to one of the photographers who happens to catch that magical moment on camera

Idia Shroud

Did not want to go at first. Only goes because Ortho really wants to. The three of you wear matching shirts

Hates the crowds. Like, a lot

Obsessed with Tomorrowland. You have to literally drag him to other parts of the park. Otherwise he’d stay there all day

Space Mountain is his favorite ride.

During Monster’s Inc Laugh Floor, he gets picked out in the audience during the skit, the spotlight shining on him. Nearly dies then and there

Buys a bunch of the munchkins surprise boxes and is trying to collect the entire set

Also the type to buy fast passes. Or he hacks into the system to code your cards to have infinite passes. Waiting in line? Never.

Secretly knows all the lyrics to most Disney movies. You catch him singing along during the parade

Though his social battery is damn near dead by the end of the night, he toughed it out because of how happy it made you and Ortho

Malleus Draconia

It’s his first time at Disney too. You get him a first time visitor button from the guest services desk, which he is very giddy about

Lilia and the others tag along, but Lilia makes sure that Sebek isn’t breathing down Malleus’s neck so that he and you can actually enjoy the park

The Haunted Mansion was his favorite ride. He loves the dark ambiance of it. He makes you all ride it at least 3 times.

Mickey ears don’t fit quite right around his horns, but you make it work

Likely believes that the princesses are actual princesses of different neighboring kingdoms and you don’t have the heart to correct him

Also doesn’t really understand that the characters, like Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck are people in costumes

When you can’t see the parade well, he lifts you up with ease.

Is amazed by the fact that there’s ice cream shaped like Mickey Mouse

Gets you a reservation at Cinderella’s Royal Table. The dinner is like a fairy tale, with character appearances and fine dining. You guys have the perfect view from your table to watch the fireworks

[yourmomsawh0r3]

cowboy hat rule

pairing: tyler owens x f! reader

warnings: NSFW, 18+

Tyler had no plans to go out that night. He was perfectly content to spend the evening at home, maybe watch a game or catch up on some sleep. But his friends had other ideas. They dragged him out to a bar in town, claiming he needed a night out, and after some reluctant agreement, he found himself nursing a beer at the bar, feeling slightly out of place.

That was until he saw “her”

She was standing near the end of the bar, laughing at something her sister said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Tyler couldn’t take his eyes off her. There was something about the way she carried herself confidence mixed with a playful edge that intrigued him.

His friends were still talking about something in the background, but he wasn’t paying attention. All he could focus on was her. The way she moved, the way she smiled it was like she was teasing the entire room just by existing.

Tyler knew he had to talk to her. He wasn’t normally one to make the first move, but something about her made him bold. He excused himself from his group and made his way over to where she stood, leaning casually against the bar.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

She turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Depends,” she said, her voice equally teasing. “You think you can keep up with me?”

Tyler raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I think I’m up for the challenge.”

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment before nodding. “Alright, cowboy. I’m Y/N. And this is my sister, but don’t worry she’s already spoken for.”

Tyler chuckled, tipping his hat slightly. “Tyler. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

She accepted the drink he ordered for her, taking a sip while maintaining eye contact with him. There was a tension in the air, something simmering just beneath the surface, and Tyler could tell she was enjoying every second of it.

“So, Tyler,” she said, leaning in closer, “how about we play a game?”

“What kind of game?” he asked, intrigued.

“Twenty-one questions,” she replied with a smirk. “I ask you a question, you ask me one. And no lying.”

Tyler grinned. “You’re on.”

They went back and forth, asking each other everything from favorite movies to the wildest thing they’d ever done. Each question was a chance to flirt, to push the boundaries just a little further. Tyler found himself getting more and more drawn to her with every answer she gave, her wit and charm only adding to her allure.

As the night went on, the tension between them grew. Tyler could feel it the way her eyes lingered on him a little too long, the way she bit her lip when he said something that made her blush. He was getting hot under the collar, and it was clear she was feeling the same.

Eventually, she leaned over and, with a sly grin, plucked his cowboy hat off his head and placed it on her own. Tyler froze, his eyes narrowing playfully as he watched her.

“I wouldn’t do that unless you know the cowboy hat rule,” he warned, his voice taking on a husky tone.

Y/N tilted the hat down slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, I know the rule, alright,” she teased. “But I’m not one to follow the rules.”

Tyler’s heart pounded in his chest as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You know how to ride?”

She leaned in as well, her lips almost brushing against his as she whispered back, “Oh, sugar, I’ll give you the best ride of your life.”

Tyler felt the temperature in the room spike. His skin tingled, his pulse raced, and for a moment, he forgot where they were, lost in the heat between them. She was a challenge, no doubt about it, and Tyler was more than ready to see where this night would take them.

But before anything else could happen, she pulled back slightly, a coy smile playing on her lips as she adjusted his hat on her head. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, cowboy.”

Tyler grinned, shaking his head in amusement. He was hooked, and he had a feeling she knew it. Whatever happened next, one thing was for sure he wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

Tyler watched as Y/N adjusted his hat one last time, her mischievous grin sending a rush of heat through him. She held his gaze for a moment longer before turning on her heel and sauntering over to where her sister was sitting.

His eyes followed the sway of her hips, each step drawing him in deeper. The way she moved was hypnotic, effortlessly seductive, and Tyler couldn’t help but be captivated by her confidence.

She leaned down to whisper something in her sister’s ear, her voice too low for him to hear. Whatever she said made her sister’s eyes widen before they both broke into knowing smiles.

Tyler leaned back against the bar, a satisfied grin on his face as he watched her. He was in no rush to leave, content to take in every last detail of her before the night was through. And from the way she glanced back at him over her shoulder, he knew the feeling was mutual.

This wasn’t over not by a long shot.

When the bar closed, Tyler asked, "Can I walk you home, Y/N?"

She looked at him, her eyes reflecting the dim bar lights. "I'd like that, Tyler. But I have a feeling walking might not be the only thing we do."

Tyler felt a spark of anticipation. He offered her his arm, and they strolled out into the cool Texas night, the stars above them twinkling like a private audience to their burgeoning romance.

They barely made it to Y/N's apartment door before Tyler's self-control snapped. He pressed her against the door, his hands cupping her face, his lips finding hers in a passionate, hungry kiss. Y/N moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Tyler's hands traced the curve of her body, his touch igniting sparks wherever it landed.

"Tyler," Y/N gasped, breaking the kiss. "Inside. Now."

Tyler grinned, his eyes never leaving hers as he reached behind her and opened the door. They stumbled inside, their lips locked, their hands exploring. Tyler kicked the door closed behind them, his hands finding the zipper of Y/N's dress. He slowly pulled it down, his knuckles grazing her spine, sending shivers down her body.

Y/N's dress fell to the floor, leaving her in a lacy bra and matching panties. Tyler took a step back, his eyes drinking her in. "Damn, darlin', you're beautiful."

Y/N smiled, her hands going to the buttons of Tyler's shirt. "You're not so bad yourself, cowboy."

She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, her fingers tracing the muscles of his chest. Tyler groaned, his hands finding her hips, pulling her flush against him. "You feel that, darlin'? That's what you do to me."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with desire. "I want to feel more, Tyler. All of you."

Tyler growled, his hands cupping her ass, lifting her up. Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. Tyler carried her to the bedroom, his lips never leaving hers. He laid her down on the bed, his body covering hers.

He trailed kisses down her neck, his hands unhooking her bra, freeing her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. Y/N arched her back, her hands tangling in his hair, pressing him closer.

"Tyler, please," she gasped, her hips grinding against his.

Tyler chuckled, his hand slipping under the waistband of her panties, finding her wet and ready. "Please what, darlin'? Tell me what you want."

As Tyler settled between Y/N's thighs, his hands gently spreading her legs, he looked up at her with a mischievous grin. "You ready for me, darlin'?"

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in anticipation. "More than ready, Tyler."

Tyler chuckled, his breath warm on her sensitive flesh. "Good, 'cause I've been dyin' to taste you all night."

He leaned in, his tongue flicking out to tease her clit. Y/N gasped, her hips lifting off the bed. Tyler hummed in approval, his hands gripping her hips to hold her in place as he began to lick and suck, exploring every inch of her pussy.

"Tyler," Y/N moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair. "That feels so good."

Tyler looked up at her, his eyes heated. "You taste fuckin' amazing, darlin'. Like the sweetest candy I've ever had."

He buried his face between her thighs, his tongue delving deep inside her, lapping up her juices. Y/N cried out, her body writhing as Tyler devoured her, his tongue working magic on her clit.

"You're so wet, baby," Tyler growled, his fingers joining his tongue, fucking her slowly. "I could spend all day down here, eat your pussy until you can't take anymore."

Y/N whimpered, her orgasm building with each thrust of Tyler's fingers, each flick of his tongue. "I'm close, Tyler. So close."

Tyler groaned, his tongue circling her clit. "Come for me, Y/N. Come all over my face."

And with a final lick, Y/N tumbled over the edge, her body convulsing as she came, her cries of pleasure filling the room. Tyler continued to lick and suck, drawing out her orgasm until she was a boneless, quivering mess.

As Tyler resurfaced, his face glistening with Y/N's arousal, he grinned up at her, his dimples on full display. "Damn, darlin', you taste even better than I imagined."

Y/N, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving, looked down at him with hooded eyes. "And you're pretty good with that tongue of yours, cowboy."

Tyler chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I aim to please, ma'am.”

Tyler's hand, still slick from Y/N's arousal, grasped his hardening length, stroking it slowly as he looked down at her. "You see what you do to me, darlin'? You make me so hard, I could fucking explode."

Y/N bit her lip, watching him with hooded eyes. "I want you to fuck me, Tyler. Hard and deep. Make me scream your name."

Tyler growled, positioning himself at her entrance. "You sure about that, sweetheart? Once I start, I ain't stopping until I've filled you up with my cum."

Y/N nodded, her breath hitching as Tyler slowly pushed into her. "Yes, Tyler. Fuck me."

Tyler groaned as he sheathed himself fully inside her. "Fuck, you're so tight, darlin'. Like a fucking glove." He started to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, steady rhythm, his cock stretching her with each stroke.

Y/N's hands clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as he filled her completely. "More, Tyler. Faster."

Tyler obliged, his pace increasing, his cock slamming into her with more force. "Like that, darlin'? You like it when I fuck you hard?"

Y/N moaned, her body arching to meet his thrusts. "Yes, Tyler. Just like that."

Tyler reached between them, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, Y/N. Come all over my cock."

Y/N's body tightened, her orgasm building. "Tyler, I'm close. So close."

Tyler's thrusts became erratic, his own release building. "Come on, darlin'. Let me feel you milk my cock."

Y/N's body shattered, her orgasm ripping through her as Tyler slammed into her one last time, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his hot cum.

They lay there, Tyler still inside her, their bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. Tyler looked down at Y/N, his thumb brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You okay, darlin'?"

Y/N smiled up at him, her fingers tracing the lines of his tattoos. "Better than okay, Tyler. That was...incredible."

Tyler chuckled, his cock twitching inside her. "We're just getting started, sweetheart. There's plenty more where that came from."

As they lay there, their bodies cooling and their breaths evening out, Y/N stirred slightly. She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at Tyler with a soft smile. His eyes fluttered open, meeting hers with a warm gaze.

"Hey, you," he murmured, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hey," she replied, her smile growing wider. "I was just thinking... are you hungry?"

Tyler chuckled, his stomach rumbling in response. "Now that you mention it, yeah, I could eat."

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling. "I thought so. I don't know about you, but all that... exercise always makes me hungry."

Tyler grinned, pulling her down for a quick kiss. "Me too, darlin'. Me too."

She pushed herself up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Before she could leave the room, Tyler called out softly, "Hey, where are you going?" Y/N paused, looking back at him with a smile. "I was going to order us some pizza. My fridge is as bare as my bank account right now," she laughed, leaning against the doorframe.

Tyler grinned, patting the bed beside him. "Come here, let's do that together." Y/N walked back to the bed, crawling in beside him and snuggling close. She picked up her phone, her thumb hovering over the pizza app icon. Tyler, however, noticed something first. "Hey, what's this?" he asked, pointing at the lock screen of her phone.

Y/N looked down, her cheeks flushing slightly as she saw the picture. It was her, grinning widely with her arms wrapped around the neck of a beautiful chestnut horse. "Oh, that's just me and my horse, Clover," she said, as if it was no big deal.

Tyler, however, was intrigued. He pushed away loose strands of her hair, his eyes soft as he looked at her. "You have a horse?" he asked, his voice filled with surprise and something else admiration? "Why didn't you tell me that?"

Y/N shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "It never came up, I guess. I've had Clover for years. She's like family to me." She looked back at Tyler, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "But I'll tell you all about her over pizza, if you want."Y/N looked up from her phone, a small frown on her face. Tyler shakes his head. "What do you mean? I was going to pay for it. she says

Tyler shook his head, a playful smile on his lips. "No way, darlin'. I'm paying for dinner."

"But I don't mind paying," Y/N insisted, holding onto her phone.

Tyler reached out, gently prying the phone from her hands. "I know you don't, but I want to. Consider it my way of saying thank you for a great night."

Y/N bit her lip, considering his words. She knew better than to argue with him when he had that determined look in his eyes. "Alright," she finally conceded, "but next time, it's on me."

Tyler grinned, pulling her into his side. "Deal," he said, before leaning down to kiss her. He quickly added his credit card information to the order, pressing 'submit' before Y/N could change her mind. "There," he said, handing the phone back to her, "all taken care of."

Y/N smiled, leaning into his embrace. "You're too sweet, you know that?"

Tyler chuckled, pressing another kiss to her forehead. "Only for you, beautiful."

After devouring their large pizza, which Y/N had insisted they both eat, they collapsed onto the bed, sighs of satisfaction escaping both their lips. "I could eat that every night," Tyler said, smiling up at her.

"Totally agree," Y/N replied, snuggling up close to him.

They talked for a bit more, sharing stories of Y/N's childhood growing up on a farm and about her beloved horse, Clover. Tyler listened intently, his eyes filled with wonder and interest. It was clear he was thoroughly enthralled by the thought of her horse, the way she spoke of her with such love and passion.

As the talk went on, they noticed how late it had become, the room growing dimly lit. "Well, I think it's getting pretty late," Y/N said, her voice a little softer now. “We should probably get to bed."

Tyler nodded in agreement, though he showed no signs of moving away from her. "You're right," he murmured, his arms still wrapped around her. "But I don't really feel like moving right now."

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart filling with warmth. She didn't feel like moving either. So instead, they just sat there, holding each other close, the only sounds their gentle breathing and the creaking of the bed as they shifted against each other.

After a few moments of silence, they both knew it was time to clean up. They went about washing their faces, brushing their teeth, and making their way back into the bedroom. The atmosphere had changed slightly, a hint of intimacy now woven through the air.

Without needing to say a word, they snuggled back into bed, curling up together once more. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing, the comfortable darkness enveloping them both.

As they drifted off to sleep, Y/N smiled softly, feeling like this was exactly where she belonged in Tyler's arms, surrounded by warmth and comfort.

tyler whispers to her "Now, about that cowboy hat rule..."

Y/N's hands went to his chest, pushing him back slightly. "Oh, I remember. But I have a rule of my own."

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? And what's that?"

Y/N smirked, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt. "When I'm on top, you have to keep that hat on."

Tyler laughed, his hands going to her ass, pulling her close. "Deal. But only if you promise to give me the ride of my life, darlin'."

Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "Like I said earlier, honey, I'll give you the best ride of your life."

Tyler groaned, his hands squeezing her ass. "Fuck, Y/N. You keep talking like that, and I won't last."

Y/N pulled back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Then we'd better get started, hadn't we?"

Tyler quickly shed his shirt, his chest bare and taut. Y/N took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, her eyes trailing over the ridges of his abs and the light smattering of hair that led down to his waistband. She reached out, running her fingers over his skin, feeling the heat of him. Tyler's breath hitched at her touch, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You're playing with fire, darlin'," he warned, his voice low and husky.

Y/N smirked, "Maybe I like the burn," she repolied

Tyler groaned, his eyes dropping to take in the sight. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

Y/N laughed, stepping out of her jeans and pushing him back onto the bed. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him, her hands going to the brim of his hat. "No killing allowed," she said, tipping the hat back so she could see his face. "Just some good old-fashioned fun."

Tyler's hands went to her hips, holding her in place as he lifted his own hips, pressing his erection against her through his jeans. "Fun, huh?" he asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I can do fun."

Y/N gasped, her head falling back as she grinded against him, feeling the friction through their clothes. Tyler took the opportunity to lean forward, capturing one of her nipples through the lace of her bra, sucking and biting gently. Y/N moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her.

Tyler's hands moved to her back, unhooking her bra with ease. He pulled back, allowing the material to fall away, leaving her bare to him. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, his hands reaching up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples.

"Tyler," Y/N gasped, her hips moving of their own accord, seeking friction. "Please."

"You sure you can handle all this, darlin'?" Tyler asked, his voice laced with amusement.

Y/N licked her lips, her eyes meeting his. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she replied

After a series of kisses and gentle caresses, Y/N climbed on top of Tyler, her hands reaching down to grasp his hips. She rubbed her wetness against his cock, and Tyler moaned, his eyes closing in pleasure. "Mmm, yeah," he breathed, his hands moving up to grasp her hips.

Y/N leaned in closer, whispering in his ear. "I could get used to that sound," she said, her voice low and husky. "It's music to my ears."

Tyler chuckled, his eyes snapping open to look at her. "You're trying to make me come," he accused, his hands tightening on her hips.

Y/N smiled, her hips moving in slow, deliberate strokes. "Maybe I am," she replied, her voice teasing. "Maybe I just want to see you happy."

Tyler's eyes locked onto hers, his expression soft and sincere. "You make me happy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, her cheeks flushing with warmth. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "I want to make you come," she whispered, her voice full of desire. "I want to hear you moan my name."

Tyler's eyes widened, his body tensing beneath hers. "Yeah," he breathed, his hands grasping her hips tighter. "Yeah, do that."

And with that, Y/N leaned in, her lips trailing down the side of Tyler's face, her hands moving down to grasp his cock, her hips moving in time with her hand, the sound of her wetness against his cock filling the air.

Y/N leaned forward, her lips brushing against Tyler's ear. "I'm going to give you the best ride of your life," she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

Tyler moaned, his hands tightening on her hips. "I can already tell you're going to be an amazing girlfriend," he growled, his eyes fixed on her face.

Y/N grinned, her body moving against his. "yeah? ," she teased, her hips slowly sliding backwards, her wetness leaving a trail along his cock.

Tyler moaned again, his eyes falling to her breasts as they bounced with each movement. "You feel so good, Y/N," he muttered, his hands moving to cup her breasts, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples.

Y/N gasped, her body arching as his hands touched her. "I'm ready for you," she panted, her hips lifting and lowering, her body teasing his cock.

"Good girl," Tyler moaned, his hands gripping her hips tighter. "You're such a good girl."

And with that, Y/N finally sank down on him, her body enveloping his cock in a hot, wet embrace. "Ah," Tyler groaned, his eyes closing as he felt her tightness wrapped around him.

Y/N moaned, her hands grasping his shoulders, her body moving up and down on his cock in slow, deliberate strokes. "Mmm, this feels so good," she panted, her breasts bouncing with each movement.

Tyler opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on Y/N's tits as she bounced on his cock. "You look so beautiful," he breathed, his hands moving up to grasp her hips. "Ride me like that, Y/N."

Y/N grinned, her body moving faster, her hips thrusting down harder. "I'm riding you," she panted, her voice full of desire.

Tyler moaned, his hands tightening on her hips. "Keep going, Y/N. Keep riding me."

And with that, Y/N continued to ride Tyler's cock, her body moving faster and harder, her eyes fixed on his face. Here is the revised paragraph:

Tyler's cock throbbed with anticipation as he gazed at Y/N's enticing body, her curves glistening with sweat. He knew he couldn't resist her any longer. "Come here, Y/N," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I need you now."

Y/N smiled, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. She slid closer to Tyler, her body gliding across the bed as she reached out to touch his chest. "I'm clean, Tyler," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing. "I'm on birth control. You can come inside me."

Tyler's eyes locked onto hers, his gaze burning with intensity. He knew this was it, the moment he'd been waiting for. With a low growl, he pushed himself deep inside Y/N, feeling her warm, wet walls envelop him. He began to thrust, his movements powerful and urgent, as Y/N's moans filled the air.

As they moved together, their bodies slick with sweat, Y/N reached down to scoop up their combined juices. She brought her hand to her mouth, moaning as she tasted their mingled essence. Then, she slid her finger back into her entrance, coating it with their shared fluids.

Tyler watched, transfixed, as Y/N brought her finger to his mouth. He sucked it in, feeling the warm, sticky liquid coat his tongue. "Fuck, you're perfect," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Y/N smiled, her eyes shining with happiness. She knew this was what she'd been waiting for, the moment when they could finally be together, their bodies and hearts entwined. And as they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, she knew that this was only the beginning of their journey together.

And as they drifted off to sleep, their bodies entwined, they knew this was just the beginning of many more incredible rides to come.

[candypot]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝗩𝗜𝗟 𝗦𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗘𝗡𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗧 : ex with attachment issues headcanons

notes: came back with more cunty content about this cunty queen

|theres NSFW mentions on this post - don’t scroll if you’re a minor|

•Probably will resent you very much for wasting his precious time, but the scale of his harshness towards you depends on the breakup reason.

• At the worst case he'll throw some light shade at you whenever you happened to be in the same room as him. It would be too impolite to just directly address his displeasure with your presence, so expect just some indirect complaints about your "exaggerated perfume" or your "disrespect towards the school etiquette”. He'll make sure to bother just enough to satisfy his hurt ego, even though he knew deep down it was ridiculous for his image as a dorm leader.

• if the breakup reason was lighter, he'll just make sure to address you with indifference and politeness like he does with any other student of Night Raven College. You might feel some sharp glares towards you sometimes or a additional rigid breath, but he'll never bother you with such a nonsense because of his unattached persona.

• Surely won't bat an eye when you pass through him on the crowded corridors of the college, Vil was an excellent actor after all and he would do everything he could to hide how much you affected him with your absence.

• But this doesn't mean you should go around underestimating his peripheral vision, in the end the day his eyes were scanning every little corner with the hope of finding you somewhere.

• Also, don't get too careless thinking you can move on quickly after the break up. If you're even thinking about seeing someone else with less than two months, be aware that he's going to come back in your life just to torment you. Vil loves to remind you how good it was to have him as a partner in times like this and also how horrible it could be to lost him forever. He'll make sure to come back to you just to make sure you drop your other options before he pushes you away again.

• Make sure you're prepared to be dragged on a vicious cycle of affection and indifference depending on his mood of the day. He missed you so much... but he had to move on from that phase as quick as possible for the sake of his career... but you had to understand that you were made to be his... but he also should stop pampering you so much after such mediocre relationship…. but you also should be more considerate with his feelings, you guys had story together... but seriously! you had to stop being so overly sensitive and leave him alone when he needed. It would be a endless and torturing cycle for the both of you, he wanted to feel worth your attention and at the same time make sure you knew what you had lost.

• Would try to push the thoughts of you to the back of his mind with the practice of physical exercise. It was honestly so stressing to not being able to focus on anything after that awful break up with such a common person! He had to clear his mind up with something or at least be tired enough to not think about it (he would probably dream about you anyway).

• Maybe he could even start seeing a therapist to read more deeply into this strange addiction he had of you. The other alternatives weren't helping to clean his mind anymore and he could notice how physically and emotionally draining it was getting to not understand his feeling towards you.

• Shamefully, hate sex would probably be a thing. It was so so so humiliating to have his thoughts wandering around you and the heated moments you guys shared together... his bed seemed so empty without your warm body trembling bellow him (or on top of him). He was so dumb to even bring you to his room in first place! How could he even sleep in such a place after all you had done in those sheets? Now it was almost as necessary as oxygen to have your lowly presence by his side again, he needed to feel your grotesque hands on him and your petulant mouth on his.

• The whole experience would be very humiliating for the both of you, nor him nor you would have the gut to admit you were constantly seeking each other behind that hatful facade. At some point, people wouldn't even bother to understand your current status of relationship anymore. Even Rook, which was the biggest stalker supporter of the both of you was tired of listening those well know noises from his roi du poison's room.

[nahoney22]

Oooo, I'm excited for your celebration!!! Congratulations!

Clone: Commander Wolffe

List: NSFW 🔞

Prompts: D17 with S20

Proof of age: I saw Jedi in the theater when it released in 1983. The Rancor will always be my fave creature in the SW universe.

Congrats again! Can't wait to see what you come up with!!

@dreamie411

Make Up Your Mind*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Commander Wolffe X Female!Reader

word count: 3k

Prompts:

• “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to forget that other guys name.”

• “Stars, you're so much better than the last person I was with."

When Wolffe finally had enough of letting you slip into hands that weren’t his own, he makes sure to remind you who you really belong to.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, explicit sexual content and language, mutual pining, minor alcohol consumption, flirting, reader is implied to have done hook-ups before, rough kissing, nudity, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!Wolffe, creampie, confessions of feelings, friends to lovers, tender aftercare.

Authors Note: Sorry for the wait @dreamie411, hope this is okay. 🩵

As you stand behind the bar at 79’s, wiping down the surface, you hear a gravelly voice that you recognise all too well. One would assume it was any of the Clones, but there was something different about the Commander that you just could tell the difference with.

You glance up, locking eyes with the man who has spent far too much time lingering around this bar, and a smirk tugs at your lips. Commander Wolffe is eyeing you with the same intensity he always does, though there’s something unmistakably different in the way he’s watching you now.

“What did you get up to last night?” he asks, voice low but edged with curiosity—or maybe something more.

You raise an eyebrow, already knowing that he’s fully aware of what you were up to. After all, he’d spent the better part of the night silently fuming as you entertained the advances of a flirtatious patron, someone who might’ve turned into a one-night fling if the mood had struck you. You’ve always been casual about these things—no strings attached, just a bit of fun. But judging by Wolffe’s barely-concealed irritation, it’s clear he wasn’t thrilled watching you entertain someone else.

“Just this… and that,” you answer with a cheeky grin, moving away briefly to serve a trooper from the 212th. When you return, Wolffe is still leaning against the bar, his eyes following your every move. You tilt your head, feigning nonchalance. “Why do you ask?”

He swirls the ice in his empty glass, the tension in his shoulders visible even in the dim strobe lights. “Can’t a man be curious?”

Your gaze sharpens with mischief. “Depends. Not many men are curious about my sex life unless it’s for a reason.”

His jaw clenches ever so slightly, and you relish the way your words get under his skin. There’s a charge in the air between you, a tension that neither of you has been willing to break. “Care for a refill?” you ask, the words slipping out smoothly.

Before he can respond, you reach for his glass, brushing your fingers against his just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin. It’s a fleeting touch, but it sends a ripple through you that’s hard to ignore.

Admitted, you have thought about the idea of being with Wolffe before—how could you not? He’s rugged, disciplined, and there’s an undeniable magnetism in his reserved demeanor. And utterly sexy.

Yet, despite his clear jealousy, he’s never made a move. Maybe it’s the restraint that comes with his rank or the weight of his responsibilities, but it leaves you wondering if it’s just that what holds him back.

You pour him his usual drink, sliding it back across the bar before he can even reach for his credits. As he starts to pay, you place your hand over his, stopping him. “It’s on me, Commander,” you say with a wink.

Wolffe’s voice drops a notch, almost a murmur. “I want to give you something. You deserve it.”

You hum softly, leaning closer across the bar, teasing him with a slow, deliberate gaze that traces from his furrowed brow down to the scar that cuts across his eye, finally resting on his tense, but oh-so-inviting lips. “And what do you think I deserve, hmm?” Your voice is a playful whisper, laced with just enough suggestion to make him falter.

For a brief moment, it’s as if time stops. Wolffe’s attention is locked entirely on your lips, on the way your breath gently fans against his face. The lights of the club dance across your features, casting you in a soft, almost hypnotic glow.

He’s caught, just for a second, torn between giving in to whatever’s been simmering between you two and holding himself back. But as much as he wants to close that distance, something pulls him away.

He takes his drink, your fingers slipping away from his as he steps back, eyes soft with something left unspoken. You watch him walk away, a sigh slipping from your lips.

When 79’s finally closes for the night, the hum of laughter and music fades into silence as you finish tidying up. The bar is empty, save for the clinking of glasses you swiped from tables and the faint buzz of neon lights overhead. You wave goodnight to the other workers as they exit through the back door, their voices echoing faintly down the corridor. With a tired but satisfied sigh, you begin locking up for the night, turning toward the entrance when you feel the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze.

A knowing smirk pulls at your lips. You don’t need to turn around to recognise who it is. “We’re closed, you know,” you call out, your voice playful.

But when you finally do turn, you find Wolffe leaning against the bar, his back to you, shoulders tense. He doesn’t move at first, the muscles in his back taut under his armor as he collects his thoughts. Something about his posture is different tonight—more guarded, more intense. You step closer, curiosity mingling. “What is it, Commander?” you ask as you lean against the counter beside him.

He straightens up slightly, turning his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his stormy gaze. “I need to talk to you.”

There’s no hint of teasing in his tone, and the seriousness in his eyes causes your flirty retort to falter. You’ve never seen him this conflicted, this on edge and your smirk fades. “What’s going on?” you ask softly, cautious.

For a moment, he just stares at you, a battle clearly raging behind those eyes. And then, with a voice rougher than you’ve ever heard, he speaks. “You drive me mad, you know that?” frustration lacing every word. “Watching you, knowing you’re letting others close when all I can think about is how badly I want you. How I’ve wanted you for longer than I care to admit.”

Your breath catches, pulse quickening at the raw intensity of his confession. Wolffe steps closer, closing the distance between you in one stride, his eyes locking onto yours with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m done holding back,” he says, voice dark and laced with that possessiveness you’ve always suspected simmered beneath. “You want to know what I’ve been thinking about? About having you, in every way. About making sure you never forget it’s me you should belong to.”

The heat in his words draws something deep and electric from within you. “Wolffe…” you whisper, but it’s lost as he crowds you against the bar, his body radiating a warmth that sends your senses into overdrive. The look in his eyes is almost feral, desire mixed with a longing that makes your head spin.

His lips are on yours in an instant, rough and claiming, as though he’s been holding back for too long and can’t bear it any longer. You respond in kind, meeting his intensity, hands grasping at his armor as he presses you into the counter. The kiss is a clash of need and frustration, every pent-up emotion pouring into the way his mouth moves against yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, begging for entry which you allow, your fingers tugging in his textured hair as his tongue dominates your own.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, your lips swollen from the fervour of it. “I’ll give you everything,” he whispers on your lips, voice a low rumble that reverberates through your chest.

There’s no hesitation in you now. You’ve wanted this just as much as he has, and the fact that he’s finally lost control is exhilarating. “Then show me, Commander,” you challenge.

That’s all the encouragement he needs. In a blur, he lifts you onto the bar, hands sliding possessively over your hips as he steps between your legs. The kiss that follows is deeper, more desperate, fueled by weeks—maybe months—of tension. His hands grip your waist with enough strength to leave marks, as if he’s afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

Wolffe’s lips leave a trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he moans, “You’re mine tonight. No one else. Just me.”

Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, drawing him closer and with a swift, practiced motion, he begins unbuckling his armour, peeling it off piece by piece while his gaze stays fixed on yours, dark with intent. There’s no room for hesitation, only pure, unfiltered desire.

You barely have time to catch your breath before his hands are on you again, yanking your workshirt over your head, fingers deftly working at your waistband before he slides your pants down and panties. The tension is almost unbearable as his calloused hands slide up your thighs, parting them with authority. His lips land on yours again, hungrier than before, biting gently on your lip as he frees himself from the confines of his uniform. When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless, the air thick with want.

“Been thinking about this for a long time,” he mutters, voice low as his fingers slowly dip between your folds after getting your consent, finding you already slick with need. “You’re dripping for me already. You really want this, don’t you?”

You can’t help but moan softly as his fingers tease you, brushing over your clit before plunging inside. “I’ve wanted this as much as you have,” you manage to gasp, leaning back on your hands for support as his fingers begin to pump into you with a steady, ruthless rhythm.

“Good,” he groans, leaning in close, his breath hot against your ear. “Because you’re about to get exactly what you’ve been craving.” His thumb presses against your clit in tight circles as his fingers curl just right, hitting that spot that makes you shudder and arch against him.

You bite your lip, stifling the cry that threatens to spill out as your hips rock into his touch. The intensity of his gaze, the way he watches your every reaction—it’s overwhelming. “How’s that feel?” he taunts, voice thick with a mix of pride and lust. “Am I as good as you imagined?”

A wicked grin spreads across your face as you look down at him, voice dripping with teasing satisfaction. “Stars, you’re so much better than the last person I was with.”

That earns a deep, possessive moan from him, and his pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, harder. “You think I’m going to let you go to anyone else after this? Not a chance,” he hisses, clearly spurred on by your words. “I’m going to make sure I’m the only one you think about from now on.” His gaze is locked on your cunt as his fingers curl inside you

Your response is lost in a choked gasp as he withdraws his fingers suddenly, leaving you momentarily empty. You whine at him for stopping but your words are caught in your mouth as you watch him pull his cock free, only for him to then line himself up against you. At first he teases your sentence pearl with his aching tip, feeling you shudder against him. Then, with one fluid thrust, he buries himself inside you, filling you completely.

The stretch is intense, and you can’t help the cry that escapes your lips. He feels perfect—thick and unyielding, just what you’ve been aching for. He groans, hips stuttering as he buries his face into your neck. Then he pulls back and cups your jaw with his hand, making sure every word he’s about to say sinks in; “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget that other guy’s name.”

The need between you both is primal, each thrust deep and purposeful as he claims you in the way he’s been fantasising about for far too long. His hands grip your hips with bruising force as he drives into you, the wet sound of your bodies moving together mingling with the breathless moans that spill from your lips.

“Tell me how good it is,” he commands, voice rough as his pace picks up, your legs tightening around him. “Tell me how much you like the way I fuck you.”

You don’t hold back, your voice a breathy moan. “It’s so good, Wolffe. So much better than anyone else. You’re the only one who can give it to me like this.”

That spurs him on, his movements becoming almost punishing as he growls your name, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re mine tonight,” he breathes against your neck, the words possessive yet laced with something deeper. “No one else is ever going to touch you like this again.”

Your body tightens around him, every ridge of his cock brushing against your walls. Pleasure builds within you until it’s impossible to hold back any longer. “Fuck,” he groans, head tipping back briefly before his eyes lock onto yours again. “You feel incredible.”

When your release finally crashes over you, it’s intense, your vision going white as your muscles clench around him, drawing a guttural moan from his throat. He doesn’t let up, riding you through your orgasm, praising you, until he’s right there with you, thrusts growing erratic until he spills into you with a deep groan, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

For a moment, the only sounds are the heavy breathing and the faint hum of the bar’s lights. Wolffe’s hands remain firm on your hips, almost as if he’s still afraid to let go. When he finally pulls back, there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

Before you can ask, Wolffe’s hands gently cup your face, his thumbs brushing tenderly along your cheeks. There’s a softness in his gaze now, something you’ve never seen before. His fierce determination melts away, replaced by something far more vulnerable.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion. His thumbs continue to trace delicate patterns on your skin as if memorising every contour of your face. “I’ve watched you for so long; how you smile, how you laugh. How you take care of people, even when you think no one notices. You’re not just beautiful—you’re kind, too. And it drives me crazy because you deserve more than just a quick fling. You deserve someone who sees you for all that you are.”

His words hit you harder than any of the passion you’ve shared so far. Your heart stutters at the sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes soften as he holds your gaze. For a moment, the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in this small, quiet moment. You’ve seen Wolffe as a soldier, a leader, but now, you see him as a man—a man who’s been holding back something real, something deep.

“Wolffe,” you breathe out, touched by his unexpected confession. “I—”

He doesn’t let you finish, leaning in to kiss you with a gentleness that contrasts the rough desire you shared moments before. The kiss is slow, unhurried, a silent acknowledgment of what’s blooming between you. His lips move against yours with reverence, taking his time as if savoring each moment.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, breath mingling with yours in the stillness. “You’re not just someone I want in passing,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you for more than just tonight.”

Your chest tightens with warmth, a rare vulnerability breaking through your usual confidence. You reach up, running your fingers through his hair, grounding him in this moment. “I’ve wanted you too, more than you know. Not just for what we have now, but for what we could be.”

He studies your face for a moment, as if committing your every feature to memory, then smiles—a small, genuine curve of his lips. “I’m done hiding how I feel,” he says quietly. “You’re mine, but I’ll also be yours, in every way that matters.”

With that, he kisses you again, this time with a perfect balance of passion and tenderness, his need still evident but tempered by something deeper, more meaningful.

It’s not long until a second round of passion ensues, this time him stripping himself completely bare as he lifts you and moves you towards one of the booths for a more comfier setting. He lays you down, crawling over the top of you as his erection firms and pushes into you once again.

“Tell me how it feels,” he moans softly in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You can’t help but smile, the words slipping out between moans. “Beautiful… perfect. Nobody has ever made me feel this way.” You whimper, the sound of his cock sliding in and out of your already dampened and filled pussy stirring your crazy.

That longing glint returns to his eyes, but this time, it’s mixed with the affection he just bared to you. “Good,” he murmurs, his pace picking up slightly, his hands never leaving your skin. “Because I’m going to make damn sure you never want anyone else.”

The rhythm between you builds again, the intensity returning as his movements grow more insistent, more determined to claim you in every way possible. But there’s a new layer to it now.

His touch was something deeper, more profound, and it’s shown in the way his lips brush against your skin, the way his hands hold you like you’re something precious. Like a porcelain doll.

As you both approach that edge again, the tension coils tight, your bodies perfectly in sync. The pleasure mounts higher and higher until it crests, a shared release that leaves you both trembling and breathless. You collapse into him, clinging to his shoulders as he holds you steady, his own breath coming out in ragged pants. “Mesh’la,” he breathes, kissing your forehead gently.

For a while, neither of you move, caught in the afterglow. But then, Wolffe gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I want you,” he says again, “No games, no hiding. I want us—for real, whatever it takes.”

You smile, reaching up to cup his face, thumb brushing over the scar near his eye. “Then we’ll make it real. But… What about your status? You’ll be reprimanded.”

“Status be damned,” he growls at the thought of the GAR taking you away from him.

You’ve crossed a line, and there’s no going back. But for once, neither of you care.

🌊 Masterlist is Pinned 🌊

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[002yb]

Suspension with no pay is a generous punishment, given how severely Dick knocks another officer's lights out. He's lucky no charges will be pressed. His 'colleague' probably isn't keen to air the dirty details of his provocations to the police commissioner; to have them put on paper.

Dick isn't too eager to discuss it, either. Just thinking of it tests his temper and his resolve not to tear through the precinct to the infirmary the bastard hides away in; to grab him by the collar of his uniform again and wail on him for being a sick fuck.

Gordon wants an explanation. Because he knows Dick. Because he knows Dick doesn't do shit like this without reason.

Dick keeps his mouth shut. He sets his jaw, clenches his teeth. He wants to scream, but he swallows it down. Looks just over Gordon's head instead, and waits to be dismissed.

He takes his punishment. He slams the door on his way out.

The only thing he wants is to go home, but he doesn't want to bring his bad mood past the threshold. So Dick sits outside, back to the wall, and makes himself breathe.

His knuckles are still red and swollen, but they'll bruise in the coming hours. He picks at split skin, smudging away blood that beads up.

There’s no cleaning up the mess he is, so Dick settles in. Dropping his head back against the wall beside the door. Breathing. Meditating. Glaring off at nothing as he sits, stews, and broods. Hands clenching periodically because he still wants to hit something.

Someone, specifically. Because Dick wasn’t done fucking them up before other officers stormed in to intervene. Alerted by shouts and familiar sounds of a scuffle. Baffled, probably, that good boy Dick Grayson can lose it worse than any of them ever could.

So Dick sits there. For a long time, until he feels numb. Until he can compartmentalize and put all his anger and irritation and hurt behind him. Because he’s not bringing it home.

Not this.

Not with Jason there.

Jason who, after some hours, comes up the stairs and startles at the sight of Dick sitting just outside their flat, quiet and unnaturally still.

Jason who sees the damage to Dick’s hands and the storminess to his expression with just a quick glance, and who takes that ugliness in stride and sits beside it anyway. Because it’s Dick.

Somehow it’s both easier and harder to breathe with Jason there beside him.

Mercifully, Jason doesn't pry. Not yet. He just sits there with Dick, quietly shuffling through the mail he must have grabbed on his way up. Ads, bills, notices.

It's so normal, so mundane that Dick feels winded by it. The easy slope of Jason's shoulders, the quiet contentment in his expression. They're outside their flat, sorting through mail; when they go inside, they'll debate on eating in, going out. They'll talk casework, get distracted by their own banter. They'll go on patrol, come home and tend each other's hurts. And they'll go to sleep together, same as any other day. One of many.

Fuck. Dick looks skyward. Blinks. Breathes.

Then he turns to look down at that pile of mail. Distracts himself with the cluttered ad that shows deals at a nearby grocery that Jason scans and scoffs at or stops to consider.

'Are you happy?'

'Depends who won the fight.' Is the cheeky reply.

Dick snorts, but doesn't comment. Doesn't trust his voice, or what words might pour out of him. Despite the lack of bruises anywhere but along his knuckles, Dick doesn't doubt it looks like he's the one that got fucked up.

Apt. Because to Jason, Dick doesn't look upset - he seems hurt.

And Jason isn't going to badger Dick. Or chide him. He trusts Dick's judgment, his reasoning, even if Jason likes to be contrary and challenge Dick at every turn.

But he's a Robin at heart, always curious. And he's also a street kid in soul, nosy because intel is an invaluable resource. He's also Jason, who worries even if he's prickly about it.

'Must've been fucked to get under your skin so bad.'

The words are there, but they're ugly. Dick swallows them down and deflects:

'Got suspended.'

'With pay?'

'Without.'

'How long?'

'A week.'

Jason clicking his tongue and scoffing about it, but he doesn't care about the lost income. It's a line of questioning to gauge the severity of the fight.

When Jason asks about on a scale of Damian to Jason, how mad will B be about it, Dick can't help the quiet laugh that bubbles up in him. He considers, then shrugs, 'Tim levels, maybe?'

Jason sitting with that, puzzling it over until something seems to click and he grimaces. Because, 'what the fuck would you be fighting over me for?'

Dick can't talk about it: about how an officer implicated themselves in the solicitation of a 'back alley whore,' a child, at the time. Provoked by the picture Dick keeps of Jason as his lock screen. Unable to resist the temptation of mocking, ridiculing Dick 'perfect golden boy' Grayson by going after his boyfriend, 'How much is that running you? Used to be dirt cheap, back in the day.' , 'Gotham's sloppiest seconds, or mine at least. Does he still cry pretty when you--?' Etc. Etc.

So maybe Jason figures it out for himself and makes an accurate guess. Because since Jason came back, he hasn't dealt with the police in any notable way. Not as a civilian, at least.

Jason would know that if someone saw Dick's lock screen and talked shit about Jason's appearance or other superficial bullshit, Dick wouldn't be so quiet about it. He'd be ranting and raving, incensed because he insists Jason is handsome, gorgeous (and it's sweet, because Jason isn't anything to write home about; a fun fight to provoke, some days, if only because Dick gets so up in arms over it).

And if it's not anything to do with present!Jason, that only leaves all the shit of his past, which is...

They haven't talked about it. Jason doesn't doubt that Dick knows, it's just - Jason doesn't want to talk about it.

Just Jason recognizing Dick's kindnesses for what they are. How Dick defended him. How he hurt enough for him that Dick risks it all. And then he comes home and waits outside because he won't bring that anger home like Jason's dad would. And he goes so far as to bite his tongue because he won't corner Jason into talking about shit he doesn't want to.

Just Jason, breathing steady and changing the topic entirely: 'I'm happy.' So happy. Happier than he's ever been. It's jarring, sometimes, how happy he is. Because there was a time when he didn't think he'd be allowed it. But here he is. With Dick. At their flat; a shoddy home, but theirs. Where they'll make dinner together and complain about romance not existing in the kitchen, get outta my way )< ; and where they'll talk circles around case work before they start bantering, gossiping, laughing. And where they'll leave for patrol but still flirt over comms and come back and hide their hurts only for the other to poke at them because they know. And they'll sleep. And it's warm. And of course Jason is happy.

It's a simple life, but it's theirs.

Oh, Jason looking at Dick's bruised hands and feeling overwhelmed at just how happy he is - to be loved and cared for so much. ;////////;

Getting all bashful as he tells Dick again, 'I'm really...really happy.'

And because it feels a little too heavy, a little too raw, Jason would cough and deflect in his own way. Grumbling because, 'Would've been happier with an expulsion, but...' Shrug.

Dick laughing under his breath. Taking the out. 'On my way. It was a 'formal reprimand'.'

Then Jason snickers because, 'Could I give you more names? Speed up the process.'

Which oops. Too dark, too soon. But after the initial grimace is a brittle laugh because wow.

Then something something Jason standing up and offering Dick a hand to pull him up, too. And they go about their routine. When Dick settles down, Jason starts prompting for details on the fight. How fucked was the officer's face? How many men did it take to tear Dick away from him? (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

Dick teasing him about it sounding like Jason likes that Dick lost his shit. And Jason owns up to it fully. Of course he likes it; it was for him. (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

Jason makes it easier for Dick by teasing him about it. Taking some of the weight away from it. Because this is how they look after each other. ♡

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

Hello, dears ❤ I do apologize for the lack of content lately (Moving to Germany and getting everything settled, on top of writer´s block and taking German lessons is the culprit, I swear 😂) BUT, I finally got around to writing that scene where Reader has to serve Alcina tea while wearing a remote control vibrator 👀This was written with Sasha in mind (if you can´t tell lol) and I do hope some of you will enjoy! ❤

TW: Slight degradation

Word count: 2,054

The castle clock hadn't yet made it to nine when you found yourself waiting dutifully outside of your employer´s office. You had known better than to enter the large room at a time other than exactly when she requested you to. Being early at Castle Dimitrescu was considered just as much of an offense as being late, with just as dire consequences depending on the Countess´mood. So, you stood there, quietly, obediently, waiting for the old steel bells in the clocktower to strike nine. You had made a point to make sure that everything placed on the silver tray in your hands was precisely as she liked it, your uniform had been freshly pressed, your hair as neatly done as you could get it, and the small toy she had commanded you to wear nestled deep within your core was - while albeit, a little uncomfortable - nice and securely settled in. 

The sound of the first bell had almost made you jump, nearly knocking the antique silver teapot over in turn. You rolled your eyes at yourself and straightened out your vest. You were admittedly more nervous than you´d expected to be - but also excited. Your arousal already beginning to pool, pulsing against the firmness of the toy. Your heart all but a flutter as the final bell finally struck, forcing a slight flush across your cheeks. With a short exhale you knocked softly on the large door. 

“You may enter, pet.” 

Her voice was warm, aged - like a finely distilled whiskey. The sound of it alone brought an even deeper heat to your cheeks, and you knew right then and there that this wasn't going to be easy. Not a single drop spilled, she had said. Not a single one. 

And she had meant it. 

You entered quickly and without pause, eyes adjusting to the bright morning sun as it shown brilliantly into the normally darkened room. Luminous rays of warmth basking the Countess in a dusting of cladden gold. 

“Right on time, pet. As always.” She smirked, looking up at you over the rim of her reading glasses - her desk covered in a mess of invoices and letters for the day ahead. You cleared your throat. 

“Of course, my lady.”

“I do believe that's how you prefer me, Countess, is it not?”

She carefully placed the paper she had been reading on top of the others before allowing the smirk on her lips to curl a little deeper. “Mh, obedient little thing, hm? So eager to please.”

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. <i>Fuck, she wasn’t going to make this easy, was she?</i> Still, you smirked a little in turn, walking closer to the desk, your stride slightly staggered. 

She chuckled. “Feeling rather cheeky this morning, I see.” 

At this you only grinned, placing the serving tray on the one empty spot on her desk and raised the teapot in your hands. “Tea?”

She chuckled again and nodded, leaning back into her chair - with one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in your direction as her gaze raked you over, watching you. She was absolutely stunning in the fresh morning light - nearly evanescent. Her raven locked hair perfectly styled and a tight fitted, white collared shirt in place of her normal everyday dress. It was cuffed at her forearms and hugged her body quite exquisitely. In that moment, you were certain the small toy that remained in your core was already sufficiently drenched, its presence becoming ever more noticeable as you began to set out the tea.   

“I'm assuming you haven’t forgotten our deal?” 

She traced her fingers down your arm and your core immediately clenched, forcing you to adjust your stance. 

“O-of course not, my lady.” 

“Not a <i>single drop</i>.. Or there will be consequences.” 

You nodded. “Yes, my lady.” 

She smirked. 

“Though, something tells me you'd rather enjoy that.” The chuckle that now danced darkly across her lips was dripping in desire, much like the juices that had already begun to drip from your core. And the sight of the small black remote appearing casually between her fingers only fueled that.

Gods, she was not playing fair and she knew-

“Mph-!” 

You let out an embarrassingly needy moan the moment you felt the warm, abrupt vibration deep inside you, your knees almost immediately buckling. 

Fuck. Why had you agreed to this again??

Because you loved it, that's why. You loved the effect she had on you and just how needy she could get you. You loved how aroused you already were, knowing just how much higher she'd eventually take you. With your core soaking wet and absolutely aching for her. 

And this, she knew. 

“Mh.. you look a little flushed, my pet. Is the tea too hot for you?” 

Oh, that devilish smirk as she leaned back into her chair even more, eyes bright with a teasing glint while she idly allowed the remote to dance between two fingers. You cursed softly under your breath before straightening your back, teapot still in hand. 

“Quite the contrary, my lady. The only thing too hot in this room, is you.” You replied with a smug smile, making her chuckle. 

“Always with that silver tongue of yours.” 

“Last I checked you quite enjoyed my tong-” 

Another wave of pleasure erupted in your core, this time even stronger than the last. Your hands held firm around the warm metal as you moaned needlessly, wantingly, the slacks of your uniform growing more soaked by the second. You were panting by the time the vibration was cut short, which only brought forth another chuckle. 

“That I do, pet. Though, it does have the tendency to get you into trouble, no?” 

You cursed again, this time wiping the sweat from your brow before rising back to your full height. Every inch of your body now screaming for more, for release. For her fingers to replace the all too small toy that resided deep within you. You took a steadying breath and smiled, holding the steaming water over her cup. 

“I s-suppose it does, my lady. How would you like your tea this morning?” 

You tried your hardest to remain focused, but your eyes were locked on the tiny remote in her hand. Watching it's every movement, waiting for any indication that she was about to press it. That was until she cleared her throat, bringing your attention swiftly back to her. 

“Eyes on me.” She ordered. 

You nodded. “Yes, my lady. Sorry.” 

You straightened out your vest again, teapot in hand. Your cheeks a deep crimson and your underwear nearly completely soaked through. She watched you intently, a scorching gaze that never wavered and only made the heated place between your legs throb relentlessly. Her lips parting ever so slightly before she spoke, legs coming to cross in front of her. 

“Two cubes of sugar this morning, pet. And a generous pour from my flask.” 

“As you wish, my lady.” 

“Oh, and one of those intricate designs of yours I love so much.” She smirked. “Expertly executed, of course.” 

You swallowed and gave her a nod. “O-of course. Any specific design in mind?” 

“Mh.. surprise me.” She replied with a wink. 

You nodded again and moved a little closer to her desk, a slight tremor to your hand as you reached for the small silver tongs for her sugar. One small clink into the cup and then another, breathing a sigh of relief as you moved onto the flask. Though the moment the dark crimson liquid began to pour from the opening your whole body jerked in pleasure. The vibration, albeit a much softer one, was still plenty enough to send a wave of ecstasy across your body. 

You bit your bottom lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood. Your legs trembling as it became harder and harder to focus on anything other than the deep ache in your core. You moved your hand slowly, thighs clenched shut as you continued to pour the dark liquid into the cup before capping it off and shakily placing it back on the tray. A staggered exhale as the toy swiftly shut off again. 

“Very good, pet. Continue.” 

You nodded through a whimper and shifted from one foot to another, your desire now trickling down your inner thigh - your uniform becoming ever more stifling. You could only imagine how flushed your face was, if the rest of you held any indication, that was. Your entire body felt as if it set a flame. As if you were the match and Alcina the strike. You straightened your back once more, this time a little more wobbly and picked up the teapot. 

The look on your Mistress's face was entirely unfair. Smug, and knowing. Nostrils slightly flared as she could undoubtedly smell just how aroused you were - how utterly drenched. You steadied your hands, keeping them both firmly on the now cooling metal as you slowly began to tip it. The warm aroma of Alcina’s favorite tea wafting through the air. A predator’s gaze encased in swirls of steam as she watched you - intensely. A swift flash of crimson in her smile as she pressed the little black button yet again. 

“F-fu-” 

“Language. You're doing so good.” 

“Mmmph-” 

A muffled whimper as your teeth sank hard into your bottom lip, thighs clenched even more than before. You did your best to hold yourself steady. With the only thing working in your favor being the master of your craft - the ability to serve to no end. 

Especially when it came to Alcina. 

Your legs shook, body trembled. Core aching in a way that you had never experienced before. You so badly wanted to come for her, to feel the exquisite release of pleasure that only she could give you. But still, you held strong. Feeling the simple fabric of your slacks grow wetter by the second as you dutifully fill her cup with warm tea. Leaving just enough room for the foam at the top. 

By the time the vibration came to a halt within your aching walls, you were a panting, shaking mess. Hair a muss and beads of sweat dripping down your all too heated face. You honestly weren't sure how much more you could take. If the heartbeat that throbbed so strongly in your core had anything to say about it, you'd likely come the moment she pressed that button again. An act that would surely get you punished. A punishment that would surely be worth it. 

Your hands trembled as you placed the teapot back onto the tray, breath erratic as you looked up to catch her gaze. 

And that smirked. That damned smirk. 

“So dutiful, pet.” She said coyly. “You never do disappoint, do you?” 

Her tongue skated over her bottom lip and wetted it, making you groan. She chuckled yet again. 

“Almost there now. Just one more step.” 

You nodded and quickly added the foamed cream to the top of her cup. She wanted something intricate, she had said, so you knew you couldn't get away with your usual simple heart. And your mind was far too fogged to think of anything creative at the moment. So, you picked up your small metal tool and got to work, brow furrowed as you tried to concentrate. An act that was all the more difficult when the Countess rose from her seat, remote in hand. Her scent even more intoxicating than usual. Her mere proximity fueling the ever throbbing pulse between your legs. 

“I don't think you've ever smelt so aroused before, my pet.” She whispered, leaning in so her bosom was directly eye level. The ebb and flow of her chest, her warm breath across your ear, it was almost all too much. 

You took a deep breath and steadied. 

“A-and whose fault is that?” You replied quietly. 

“Oh. I'm well aware of my affect on you, dear.” She chuckled, leaning in even further. “One could say I revel in it.” 

You whimpered but held your hand steady, intent on finishing the work at hand. You were almost finished as it was, with one or two lines left to g- 

“Mmmph-!” 

There it was again, that all encompassing heat. That warm vibration engulfing your core just as you'd finished the final line on the crest of House Dimitrescu in her cup. She looked down at it, proud and knowing, and leaned her body against yours. You turned fully in her arms, wanting to feel every inch of her against you. 

“Such a good, obedient pet.” Words whispered against your lips before she took your mouth in hers, kissing you deeply. Large hands roaming over your body before resting on the hem of your pants to unbutton them. “Such a shame it'll have to go to waste, hm?”  

She kissed you again before you could even reply. The soaked fabric of your slacks and underwear quickly discarded to the floor as her thigh came to rest between your legs. You moaned, whimpered, clawed at her back as you begged for release. The toy in your core now at its highest vibration as she pressed her thigh against your clit. 

“F-fuck.. Alcina.. please.” 

Her only response was a soft growl and the subtle rock of her thigh, moving deliciously against your most sensitive areas. A prickling heat that built slowly across your body with each movement. With tears streaming down your face and your nails digging into her skin. 

“P-please.. I need to.. I need to come for you.” 

She growled into your swollen lips and pushed her thigh into you even harder, forcing you to cry out. 

“Be a good slut and come for me then.” She hissed.

The next moments that came were all but a blur. Waves of unrelenting pleasure crashing over you as your whole body trembled and shook. As your desire shot out from your core and soaked the soft skin of Alcina's thigh. You weren't even sure how many orgasms she’d given you, or just how long she’d kept you there. With a cold cup of tea resting next to you on the desk as your chest heaved in pants. The silhouette of her leaning over you as you felt yourself begin to fade. Body limp as the darkness swiftly took over you, with the small toy still nestled deep within your core.  

[afro-hispwriter]

My Dornish Love(3)

Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader

Summary- you and aemond discover you have some common interests 

Warnings- mentions of poisoning, some sexual thoughts? 

ferronniere- a headband that circles that forehead and will usually have a gem of sorts in the middle(or plain depending on where)

wc- 2.3k

1 2

-

Aemond waited patiently in the Library. A plate of food and a cup was next to him and a book opened. Another plate was across from him as well as a cup. 

The doors pushed open and you came rushing in, starting one of the other maesters. You wore a vibrant violet dress that made Aemonds own violet eye widen. You looked absolutely gorgeous. And the ferronniere really tied it all together.

“Good morrow my prince, I’m sorry I’m late.” You say and pull a chair out and sit down.

“It's alright, and no need for formalities. You called me by my name all yesterday.” Aemond gave you a tiny smirk.

“Yes, but we were around people who don’t particularly care, here in the Keep it is best to keep up appearances.” You lifted your hands onto the table. “Can we eat? I'm hungry.” 

“No need to ask, my lady.” You didn’t have to get told twice as you grabbed the biscuit and took a bite. Aemond caught a glimpse of your hand and forearm and he shut the book. “What happened to you?” He pointed at your arms and you looked up at him.

“Oh, I'm alright, it's just me and Thea discovered how much cats don’t enjoy baths.” You laughed nervously.

“Your handmaiden could have done that for you.” He says bluntly. 

“It’s alright, I like getting my hands dirty.” 

“Hmm. I should get the maester to check them.” He pushes his chair back and you grab his wrist. 

“Nonsense, eat first.” He yanked his wrist out of your grip and you drew your hand back. 

“It can wait.” He walks past the table.

“No, it can’t, the first meal of the day is very important. Especially for a prince and swordsman such as yourself.” Aemond stopped in his tracks and his jaw tensed.

“They could get infected.” 

“I’ve been poisoned before, this is nothing.” Aemond turned around with a shocked look on his face. 

“Poisoned?” He sounded intrigued now.

“I can tell you about it if you sit back down and eat with me.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him and he sighed. Aemond made his way back around the table and sat down. He grabbed the grapes and popped two in his mouth. His actions satisfied you and you cut the sausages in pieces. “So when me and Deziel were younger, we snuck into the storage where they keep the poisons because we just wanted to see them, but Deziel being Deziel. He grabs manticore venom and the twat drops it on me. I scream and end up getting cut which lets the venom go into my body.” 

“How did your parents react?” You laughed and Aemond dipped his spoon into his oatmeal. 

“There was a panic, my body had already weakened by the time they retrieved the antidote. Deziel didn’t see the outside of his room for almost two months, my mother was so angry.” You hunched over in a laugh and Aemond let his face relax and smile. You had such a pretty laugh but then you stopped. Aemond’s eyebrow furrowed in confusion until he remembered.

“I'm sorry.” He says.

“It was a long time ago.” 

“And still fresh on your mind.” You huffed and leaned back.

“No need for all this sadness, this is about you so how is your morning so far?” Aemond took a sip of the contents of his cup.

“I trained with Ser Criston and visited Vhagar.”

“I’ve heard stories of how big she is.” Aemond watched a glint in your eye of interest.

“Would you like to see her?” You drew back and your eyes widened. 

“I don’t think that's wise.” He finished his last grapes and grabbed his spoon again. 

“And why's that, princess? Are you scared?” He looked at you mischievously and you frowned.

“Of course I'm scared, I've never seen a dragon, and what if she knows?” You pouted.

“Knows what?” You sighed.

“That I'm Dornish.” There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Then you heard it. A tiny little giggle and Aemond’s shoulder moved up and down. You frowned and scoffed. “It's not funny.” Your face burnt in embarrassment.

“What do you think Vhagar would do if she sensed you were Dornish? Eat you?” He asks and you shrug.

“Maybe! Dragons are smart, she fought in two wars against Dorne! My people had killed her own sister in arms.” Aemond kept an amusing look. “You’re mean.” You flicked a blueberry at him, hitting him in the cheek. 

“How unladylike of you.” You rolled your eyes. “But at least you know your history.” 

“Did you think I was stupid?” You cock your head. 

“Not at all, but not many ladies pride themselves on learning these things.” 

“Well, there's not much to do on Dorne rather than watch people fight to the death, drink, fuck, and eat. So I have picked up a book and I did pay attention in my classes.” You swirled the contents in your cup and swung a leg over the other.  

“Mmm. You should join me for a ride on Vhagar.” Your eyes widened in fear. 

“M-Maybe another time.” 

“Suit yourself, but I will still send you the proper attire.”

“The riding I know of requires no attire.” You cross your arms and pretend to be annoyed. Aemond let out an airy chuckle.

“In due time princess.” 

“Cute. Eat your food Prince Aemond.”

-

Breakfast was long finished. In the time after, Aemond asked you about Dorne. He wanted to know about it from a native's perspective. He also found joy in hearing you talk. 

“As you know it's always hot but here?” You laughed. “I actually had to cover up pretty decently last night but the sheets were quite scratchy, I thought there was a manticore crawling on me.” 

“You weren’t scared?” 

“I know how to extract their venom so they’re really nothing.” 

“Is it true you coat your weapons in venom?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“How do you do that?”

“To collect the venom we use vials and to hold the creature we would hold them with a large set of tweezers and a small set for the actual venom. For a manticore, the small tweezer would hold the stinger of the tail and you would just squeeze. Then we kill whatever it is and eat it.” 

Aemond grimaced at that. 

“What? They’re good, you should try one.” He chuckles at that.

“I am sure I will be alright without it.” You put your elbow on the table and pointed a finger at him.

“You’re going to try one.” He gave you a mischievous smile.

“I'm not easily persuaded.”

“We will see about that. Is there anything else you would like to know about, my prince?” You ask and the tips of your shows push against his boots. 

“No, I'm sure I have enough information to start a book of my own.” He says with amusement and you scoff.

“Hey! You could have asked me to stop at any time.” 

“A simple tease, I enjoy hearing your voice.” 

“Fancy me already?” 

“Is that a crime?” You shook your head and smiled. The edges of Aemond’s mouth curved up and he looked down. 

“How do you feel about the night sky?” You leaned forward. 

“I think it’s beautiful, when I ride Vhagar at night I try to get as close as possible to the stars.” There was a glint in his eye the second he mentioned Vhagar. 

“I have a book about it in my room, come with me?” You asked and stood up. You held a hand out to him and he pushed his chair back. He walked around the table and he grabbed your hand. 

-

The walk was short and no words were said between you too, but it was not awkward at all. Comforting even. 

You opened your chamber door and you let Aemonds hand go. He checked the hallways and when nobody passed he stepped through the door.  

You were already bending over to dig into a drawer. Aemond froze and his eye was trained on your ass. He was thankful he wasn’t like Aegon. 

“Here it is.” You hold up the brown book and show it to him. 

The Mysteries of the Sky by Maestor Elkin 

“He has traveled all over the world, he has even gone to The Wall and he reported on these bright lights in the sky.”  You say when you open the book to one of your saved pages.

“Fascinating.” Aemond stepped next to you, with hands behind his back, and skimmed over the page you were at.

“He doesn’t know exactly what causes them but he does believe it's the work of the gods. Can you believe if the gods do create what's in the sky, that they share their beautiful creations with us?” You wouldn’t see the smile on Aemond’s face as he solely looked at you.

“I do and they might be too generous at times.” 

“Hmm, I think they give us what we need.” You looked up at him by tilting your head back slightly with a smile. Aemonds heart started racing and his cheeks dusted pink.

“We should continue this back in the library.” Aemond starts walking towards your door when a white fluff walks in front of him. She passed along his boots and slid down onto her side. He crouched down and gave the cat some scratches making her purr.

“Or your room.” The cat hissed at you, still very mad about the events of earlier. Aemond looked over his shoulder and his eyes were met with the diamond that was pierced into your belly button. What he would do to just run his tongue along it.

Fuck that stupid (beautiful) dress

He stood up to his full height so he could tower over you.

“If someone catches us-.” 

“We are a very anticipated betrothal amongst many. I’m sure they will be more happy that we are getting along than mad that we were alone together.” Aemond couldn’t help but agree. 

“Follow me.” 

-

Aemond pushed the door open to his room and he stepped out of the way for you. You walked in and looked at all his furniture and all the paintings. 

“It's like everything I imagined. Dark but beautiful.”

“Hmm.” Aemond grabbed a book off his table and sat down in a chair and kicked his feet up on the small table. “Join me?” You gladly sat in the long chair next to his. 

“There is more Targaryen heraldry in your room than the rest of the keep.” The painting of a dragon setting ablaze to what seemed like Harrenhall caught your attention.

“That is what happens when the king grows ill and two devout members of the seven take over.” He cracked open his book. 

“How is the king? I have not seen him.” 

“Dying, slowly.” Aemond really should have said ‘too slowly’. 

“I can’t imagine wh-.”

“Not everyone has a relationship with their father as you do.” He cuts you off quickly. “A good one at least.” 

You decided not to push forward. 

“What are you reading?” 

“Political philosophy.” 

“Interesting.” You opened your book and kicked your flats off to lay down on the couch. A silence fell over, it was comfortable to an extent. There was a slight tension but you slowly forgot about it as you got deep into the book and your eyes slowly started to droop.

-

The book clattering on your chest made Aemond direct his attention to you. Book pages were folded on your chest. One hand on your chest and the other dangling. Your head was turned to the side and eyes shut. Aemond chuckled and stood up to a chest that held blankets. He grabbed the softest one and grabbed the book from your chest. It closed on the material of the dress and when he pulled it, the bottom of your breasts exposed themselves. 

“Fuck.” He turned away and his cock made a sudden throbbing sensation. Gods, he was acting like a boy again, the mere sight of a woman's body making him hard. He closed his eye and tried to think of anything else. 

He tossed the book on the table turned around and quickly splayed the blanket over your body. Aemond sat back in his chair and the material around his crotch down. Reading should make it go down.

-

You slept until the sun was almost gone. Aemond had finished a couple of chapters and did whatever else he needed to do. 

You sat up straight and rubbed your eyes. Aemond shifting caught your attention and you looked back. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled and swung your legs so your feet touched the floor. 

“Don’t apologize, you’re still tired from your trip. I should be the one apologizing for taking you out so quickly.” 

You yawned and stretched, a breeze hitting your nipples suddenly made you very aware that they had slipped out and Aemond had not taken his eyes off them. 

“If you wanted to see them, all you had to do was ask.” You teased tiredly and Aemond looked down at his now closed book. “I should get back, me and my brothers are going to see a play in the cities.” 

“Then I will see you later, princess.” You stood up and did a curtsy. Aemond frowned at your action but relaxed when you giggled. He even let himself laugh. He did this cute thing where when he laughed his head would shake slightly.

“I hope we continue these meetings, I think something good can come of this.” You say walking toward the door and Aemond stands up to open the door for you.

“I agree, I hope you enjoy the play.” He opens the door and you reach up to kiss his cheek. His face turned pink with affection. 

“See you tomorrow Aemond.”

You did not

-

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated. I love hearing people’s thoughts🥰

[simphornies]

Yeah im down on my knees for a part two of that teasing reader x vox, your writing gave me brainrot and its the only thing that's gonna be on my mind all night

A/N: Happy Valentine's lovely readers. Short because my brain was going insane with the imagery

Word Count: 1.3k (1,328) Content: suggestive content, eating out, mirror sex, implied creampie(s) idk I think that should be it

Tease [ Vox x Reader ] part 2 NSFW

MINORS DNI

Ever since pushing Vox to the edge with your teasing and earning a long night of fun with him. You two decided to become an official couple. Even as a couple, you found him constantly glitching whenever you messed with him. Everyday was no different besides the fact that at night, you two share the bed together. And depending on how much teasing you’ve done, you two could keep going all night.

Today was different. Vox had this urge to take you before the night came. You took quick notice of him not glitching as much at your attempts and instead tried to catch you in his arms. You decided to have a little fun with it this time.

Vox sat in his security room, paying close attention to how his new release is doing with revenue. You made your way down to him and cheerfully hugged him from behind. “Hey, Vox~” You purred.

“I was wondering how long it’d take for you to come in here.” He smiles, immediately trying to pull you onto his lap.

You dodged his hand and waved a finger in his face. “Ah ah. I want to play a game.” You smile at him mischievously, “I promise it’ll be worth your time!”

He leans back, pouting at your rejection of getting pulled on his lap. He crossed his arms, “And what is this game?” He asks.

“For the rest of the day, until night time, you aren’t allowed to touch me one bit.” You giggled at his appalled reaction, “But! I’m allowed to touch you. You just have to hold back no matter what.”

“That’s unfair!” He protested, “How am I supposed to keep my hands off of you, babe? You’re irresistible!”

“It’ll be worth it, trust me~” You grin. “It starts now!” You exclaim before inching closer to him. His hands were kept at his side as you rubbed his chest with a seductive look in your eye. Your hands trail down further and further and just before you touch his erection, you pull away. “See you later, Vox~”

“Wh—Y/N! That was such a tease!” He yelled, getting a laugh in response from you.

The rest of the day was torture for him. You did things on purpose to rile him up. In one instance, you dropped the stack of notebooks you were holding and you bent down in front of him, giving him a peek of the underwear you were wearing from underneath your skirt. You pretended to stumble back and grinded on the tent in his pants before quickly collecting everything you had dropped to file them away.

His eye twitched, systems glitched and his breath was uneven. He wanted to touch you so bad and he felt unable to hold back. He watched as you worked, humming a song while you put away files. He sighs and distracts himself on his phone.

After a long day of working and bothering Vox, he was more than ready to hold you again. He was practically counting down the minutes until night time.

You opened the door to his office, on the phone with one of the Vees. His eyes darted to you, watching you intently. You were distracted and didn’t realize how intense his gaze was on you.

20 seconds until sundown.

Your pace was unbearably slow, taking your time almost. “Velvette, I told you I’m already doing the show tomorrow! Wh—Yes. I’m going for the next one too.” You explained, groaning at her persistence. She hung up and left you in the group call with Valentino. 

10 seconds until sundown.

You leaned up against the side of Vox’s table, facing away from desperately trying to get Valentino off the call now. “I’m not filming a porno, Val. No…You’re gonna have to ask Vox about that—Wh–NO. Valentino. Goodbye.”

5.

You groaned and hung up on him. You gathered yourself and turned to look at Vox. “Hey Voxy~”

4.

Your initial smile turned into a confusion as soon as you saw a countdown on the side of his screen.

3.

“Vox, what’s that?” You bent down and leaned towards him, squinting at it.

2.

His hands remained on the chair and he was quiet as ever. You tapped his screen lightly.

1.

His hands flew up and grabbed you. Picking you up and putting you on his couch. His door locked at his command. He didn’t hesitate to touch every part of your body.

“V-Vox!” You breathed out, his wandering hands touching you everywhere but where you wanted him to. You squirmed, almost trying to get away from him to catch your breath.

He let out a low growl, pinning you in place. “I’ve been waiting all day, baby.” His hands wandered to the inside of your thighs but didn’t go any further up. He glanced at you with pleading eyes, almost begging for consent.

The sight of a strong overlord like him begging made you giggle, “Go ahead, Vox. You did the game.” You winked at him, “Go all out.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He practically ripped your underwear off as he stuck his tongue inside of you making you throw your head back. He didn’t slow down when you grabbed the edges of his screen while you rode his tongue. He pulled away as soon as he felt your walls tighten around him.

He stripped himself quickly, practically ripping his pants off. He flipped you on your stomach, lining himself up at your entrance. He slipped inside of you with one swift movement, your arousal making it a smooth entrance. Your breath hitched when you felt him fill you up. You didn’t hesitate to move your hips to get him going, desperate for more. His hands dug into your hips, his claws poking your skin. He fucked you into the couch with hunger, not giving you a moment to breathe. You were such a moaning mess under him you hoped his office was soundproof. Your nails dug into the fabric of his couch. You felt a knot getting tighter and tighter inside of you. “Vox-” You gasped out.

His hand grabbed your face, making you look into the mirror on the wall he had parallel to the couch. “I want to watch your pretty face when you cum on me.” He grinned with pride. His lust filled eyes pushed you to the edge, the growl in his voice ultimately snapped that knot you’ve been feeling. Your body convulsed in pleasure. You felt yourself melt into his hold, unable to keep yourself up.

He turned your head so you could face him, “You’re going to have to hold up all night, baby.” You smiled and looked back at him with a challenging look, “Get your fill in, Vox.”

Your words unlocked a stronger sense of pride within him, you felt him twitch inside of you. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

The night was long and he definitely got his fill. You lost count of how many times you came on him but Vox counted and recorded each one. All you remember is his face as soon as he finally reached his limit, almost short-circuiting inside of you. He fell on the little space you had next to you. Before you and him could pass out to sleep, he had pulled you on his chest placing his coat over you two. You fell asleep to the feeling of him playing with your hair, too tired to say anything.

.

Vox woke up from a call and he answered it without looking.

“Vox. I’m glad you found your true fucking love but can you take your shit somewhere soundproof next time?” Velvette screamed into the phone before hanging up.

He looked down at your sleeping body, nestled up on his chest and the memories of last night hit him like a truck.

His phone rang again, this time Valentino called. “Will you both please consider that porno?”

[puranami]

✿ It's The Little Things - 4 ✿

A/N: I wish I knew how to write for Katakuri because he'd be right at home in this big boi edition ksdjh Rosi makes me cry ilhsm (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Summary: Little relationship things with a couple big bads, and Rosi who has never done anything wrong in his life and doesn't die, bc i said so ✿

Characters: Crocodile, Rosinante (Corazon), Doflamingo

Content: SFW, G/N reader (though Croc calls you doll... but I think he'd do that regardless,) fluff on toast ✿

(Part 1 - Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji) (Part 2 - Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk) (Part 3 - Franky, Robin, Law, Kid, Killer)

Crocodile

✿ It goes without saying, being with Crocodile means you are surrounded by luxury; he is a very materialistic man with a very specific image he has cultivated, and that extends to you. All your clothes, jewellery, any makeup, even down to your perfume and shampoo are carefully considered to make sure you compliment him perfectly. He is particular, but not unreasonable, giving you options so you can make your own decision, and he will not force something on you that you hate - can't have you walking around sulking. Really though, he values your opinion, he just sets the parameters and you chose how to meet them. In fact, if you simply went along with everything he said, giving no input of your own; he'd get very bored, very quickly.

✿ When you aren't in public, basically acting as the power couple of Alabasta (before that goes awry,) and then of the Cross Guild; he allows himself to be much softer, and generally just more human with you. Work will always be his priority, but he's not against sleeping in and having a lazy day, or part day, depending on what's going on in your lives. He'll hug you randomly, catch you in his hook if he wants your attention, and just generally manhandle you, but in the gentlest way. Crocodile also enjoys cooking with you, and is not above throwing ingredients, or flicking water at you, especially if you start it, and he will throw a tea towel in your face if he wants to. It's very endearing seeing such a powerful, and feared man being a little silly, and it's only for you.

✿ His sense of humour is as dry as he is, and either you get it and laugh along, which is nice, or you find it so painful that you can't help but groan, him laughing at your suffering instead, which is even nicer. Crocodile's laugh is basically a low rumble that you can feel reverberating in his chest, which is the nicest part of all. He always drops jokes unexpectedly, in a way where you think he's just going to comment on something, or maybe flirt with you; "You know what makes me smile, doll?" - "Could it be the fact you get to spend a quiet, relaxing day with me, hmm?" - "Facial muscles." It's either the funniest thing, or you will genuinely want to throttle him. He doesn't hold it against you if you slap him over it, the impact barely registers with this living sandbag, and he takes it as a sign that the joke was a particularly good one (in his opinion.)

Rosinante (Corazon)

✿ An absolute sweetheart, and a gentle giant. He treats you like spun glass, at least to begin with, afraid he will hurt you with either his general size and strength, or his clumsy nature. It will take time for him to relax into things, but he will; humans are naturally rather resilient, and him giving you a strong hug, or falling over himself onto you is not going to break you. It still won't stop him crying over it, especially if you end up with any bruises, but you'll hold him gently as you stroke his head, soothing him while you explain that it's alright, and that these things happen; "I got a bigger bruise from accidentally kneeing the table the other day. It's not the first time, and it won't be the last either. Everything is okay, I promise." Poor guy just loves you so much, he can't stand the thought of you being hurt in any way!

✿ He absolutely adores it when you snuggle up beside him, under his massive coat. It feels like the safest place in the world, and it's so warm - nothing bad can happen under this fortress of feathers! Rosi in general is just a cuddly guy really, holding you at every opportunity, taking your relatively small hands in his giant ones, carrying you whenever and wherever you'll allow him to; always by his chest though, so when he inevitably slips, he doesn't land on you. Being your resident tall, he prefers to pick you up to reach things as opposed to grabbing those things for you, as it means he can hug you at the same time!

✿ Rosinante is absolutely ride or die with you! Whatever your dreams and ambitions, he will do everything in his power to try and help you achieve them. The only caveat is that he will also do the same for his own mission, and sometimes that overtakes him, and he will unknowingly, and definitely unwillingly overlook you at times. He keeps you completely separate from that part of his life - because it's so dangerous, and he never wants to put you in harms way. It can be lonely when he's so focused, or not around, and that's what spurs him to attach himself to you whenever he can.

Doflamingo

✿ The fact you managed to catch his attention at all is honestly a feat in itself. He's a man who has everything (until he goes to jail,) and he always gets what he wants, no matter how he has to go about it - so there must be something that he cannot buy, threaten, or manipulate out of you, or anyone else. There is something about you personally, a fearless spirit, the right kind of sass, the patient and forgiving nature of a god, just something more; you're like a unique treasure, one that he refuses to allow in the public eye, as he is a very selfish man. He basically puts you on a pedestal, catering to every little whim or desire. At least to a point. He won't prioritise you over his machinations, and he can't be soft and tender with you on command. He'll have is moments sure, but they're on his time, and only when you are alone.

✿ He loves to loom over you, manhandle you, generally just manipulate your body, all to remind you just how small and delicate you are. The man is a predator, let's be real, and you will never forget that while you are his favourite, you are still prey in his eyes. While he likes the look of you being the small, timid thing he expects from prey, he adores your looks of defiance, refusing to cower before him. It's part of what proves that you are above everyone else, excluding himself of course, and that you are worthy of his attention. You can sass him, and tell him "No," so long as you do what he says where it matters. He won't tolerate blatant disrespect and insubordination, that's a one way ticket 6ft under. Your relationship is a delicate balance of accepting your place beneath him, but not being so beneath him that you may as well not exist.

✿ In those longed for times when it's just the two of you, he will give you whatever affection you desire, even if it's not something he can really reciprocate. He likes you happy, and his pride means he will not accept that there is something he cannot get or do for you. That's not to say he doesn't love you, he does in his own way; he's just buried that part of him deep down, so deep it may never be found. Perhaps, as time goes on however, with you being a consistent presence in his life, showing him what genuine kindness and compassion are, he may remember somewhat and be able to offer it back to you. Don't hold your breath, though, if it's happening, it's not happening fast. He's certainly a convincing actor, and his mimicked affections feel real enough.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝚇. 𝙼𝚊𝚢 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, soft!Joel, protective!Joel, alarm clock!Joel, unlearning trauma responses, dicking down as a form of therapy, domestic fluff, self-worth anxieties, they're cute and weird together as usual | WORD COUNT: 4.1k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: With the cloud of fear gone, you can finally see what's been in front of you the whole time.

It was the little things that stirred something in him. 

How you let him look after your nose until it had healed. How you used to only talk with Calum quietly, phone pressed hard against your ear, but then you started ambling around the house as you spoke a little less hushed and eventually on speaker, the both of you carrying on casually. Joel never asked to say hi, but you’d started seeking him out in the house to say hi to your brother over speakerphone.

Your eyes were a little less wide and startled now whenever the floorboards creaked as he walked into the room. You showered with the bathroom door open. You snuggled up naked against him every night, just for the comfort of warm skin against warm skin. You finally stopped fretting all the time about sitting down if he was up doing something.

It wasn’t the readily notable things that made Joel’s heart soar. It was all the small pieces that amassed and signaled your comfort and renascence. It had nearly been a month since you moved in, but it felt like you’d lived and shed lifetimes of existences in that short span – some hyperlapse of growth and dropping the things that weighed you down. Your belongings had been unpacked and given a place of their own amongst Joel’s things. The house was even starting to take on a little bit of your scent.

Joel felt like if he blinked it would all vanish in a second. He’d always seen resilience in you, but this was a new sort of strength you were trusting him with. The strength to let go and hand things over to someone else. To pass along some of that worry and fear and uncertainty to someone who wanted to shoulder it on your behalf for a little while. He could see the way you’d pause sometimes, like you were about to hold your tongue or insist on handling something yourself, and then take a deep breath and let him lead the way. It served as a way for your brain to just be able to turn off. No heightened awareness. No decision making. No worrying. Just a calm, quiet nothing.

Before you, he’d never thought that gifting someone with nothingness was much of a gift at all. But now you’d sink into that safe little place in your mind and not have a worry, and suddenly he very much understood what he was capable of giving you – understanding just how much of himself he could offer.

You hadn’t even made a fuss when all the packages of clothes got delivered. He’d wondered if it was too invasive to take pictures of the tags on your more faded, worn clothing and have Sarah find something similar but new. He admitted what he’d done, not wanting to hide anything from you, and you’d responded with a little grin. “Never had a personal stylist before,” you’d deadpanned. He was beyond relieved you hadn’t taken it as an insult or controlling or strange. 

In fact, it was him who had the first big feeling of reluctance on anything concerning the nature of your relationship. You were still healing, discolored bruising midway through fading, when you’d initiated sex. It threw him off, to say the least. Here you were, in an impromptu living arrangement, practically dependent on him for money, food, shelter, and everything in between. As much as he wanted that side of your relationship again, it left him feeling a bit gross to want it when you were still coming back from that harrowing experience with your dad. Wasn’t it inherently predatory to continue with a physical relationship with all that still in the air? You’d said you wanted to share a room and a bed, but this was something else entirely.

What if you felt obligated? Like you somehow owed him for the compassion and kindness he’d shown you? Was he putting off an air of expectation? Your options were limited in terms of independence, and he couldn’t quite shake the guilty feeling that clouded him. That was, until you’d made him look you square in the eye when you said, “I think right now – maybe more right now than I ever have in my life – I just need to feel loved. Like somebody wants me. And cares about me. I wanna feel like you feel that for me.”

The urge to pour every ounce of love into you right then and there, however you needed it, coursed through every fiber of his being. When you followed up with a soft little “please, Joel?”, that was it. He was more gentle with you than he probably needed to be, but you didn’t seem to mind it. He took his time now that he had it. And god did it feel good to love you unrushed.

Something wet, warm, and insistent building between your legs is the first thing your bleary mind registers. The gentle scratch of facial hair at the crux of your thighs comes through as your eyes flutter open. The fuzzy red numbers on the dresser clock come into focus and display a time that is well past when you should’ve already been awake.

A low, throaty moan floats up from halfway down the bed, and Joel’s firm grip on your hips is ensuring your slick, wet heat stays fused to his feverish mouth. His tongue rolls over your pearled nub and presses against it firmly, and suddenly you’re very awake.

“Joel?” you say in a breathy, sluggish whimper.

“Mmmmpphhh,” comes his muffled, self-satisfied response.

Now that you’re awake, he apparently feels like he doesn’t need to hold back any longer. He doubles down on his efforts and greedily mouths and tongues at your drooling center. Your legs fall apart to make way for him, and he seizes the opportunity to get closer and deeper.

“Oh fu– Oh my god,” you gasp. “Joel, we’re–we’re gonna be late.”

There’s no real conviction in your words, but you still want to entertain the guise that you’re being responsible. He makes some disagreeable noise and keeps going. You prop yourself up to properly see him, and his wild eyes meet yours. He doesn’t look away while he laps and spits and sucks. Your face screws up at the sight of him, something obscene in the way he unapologetically devours you. When he slips two thick fingers inside, you fall back with a loud moan. His responding grunt reverberates through your budding arousal. Maybe being late was okay – just this once.

“Can you go faster?” you croak.

He suctions harder and pumps quicker, and you’re already on the precipice. Your hands fly to his hair, searching for something to hold onto as you’re catapulted into bliss. One wet suck on your clit is all it takes to send you over, and the room is filled with the wet sounds of Joel’s efforts and your breathy little whines as you fall apart. You’re only halfway back down to earth when he’s scrambling to his knees and pumping himself over your bare torso. You’re quick to take him into both hands, his own flying to the headboard for leverage as he leans over you, and stroke with a steady rhythm. 

He’s rambling garbled nonsense as he spurts all over your lower belly, finally crashing down on top of you and pulling you flush against him. Little puffs of humid breaths coast against the skin of your neck where his mouth lazes slack, supple kisses. His lips have laid a repetitive path there, and part of you knows it's some sort of penance for there ever having been violence placed upon it. Like over time and with enough effort he can undo whatever ghosts of harm still remain. He cherishes the place where your breaths flow and your voice lives.

You find your voice now, a wooly, amused little thing, and tell him good morning. He chuckles against you, his body rocking gently with content.

“Good mornin’ to you, too, sweetheart.”

“A very good morning, I think,” you stress. “Well, as long as we’re not super late.”

“I’m on pretty good terms with the boss. I’ll put in a good word for us if we need it,” he chortles.

You playfully slap his shoulder and shake your head. He was so much more relaxed these days, and it didn’t seem like it was just because he was in his own home. Something about having you close seemed to lift a weight off him. Even though he hadn’t known all the depth of what you’d been going through, it had apparently still come to his attention in some way or another – some subconscious awareness that you weren’t doing okay. You tried not to dwell on the guilt that brought, knowing you’d caused him so much distress.

Joel between your legs was a pretty damn good alarm clock. It had been a little strange at first not plugging a wake up time into your phone, but it quickly became a routine of Joel waking up before you, getting your coffee started, and heading back upstairs with it for you to drink in bed for a few minutes. On a few occasions he’d wake you like he did this morning, mouth and hands and body pressing into yours and making you come alive before he made you come undone.

He peppers you with kisses and compliments and eventually reminds you that you’ve got to get into the shower in the next few minutes unless you want to be running around crazy to get out the door on time. He slips into the shower for no more than five minutes and gets dressed before heading downstairs. You amble into the bathroom and angle the handheld shower head against the wall before stepping into the stall. You hadn’t asked him to install it. He’d just set up one day and worked it into the existing system. He didn’t make any mention of a reason for the change when he demonstrated to you how to operate it, but you knew. That first night and that triggering shower spray of water into your nose and mouth. It had been enough for him to alter the environment for your comfort and peace of mind.

The scent of coffee drifts from downstairs as you towel off. You slip on the softest t-shirt you’ve ever felt in your life and pair it with a fitted pair of jeans. You really have to figure out a way to thank Sarah for sourcing all these new clothes for you. It was a relief that she didn’t seem to have any sort of issue with you dating and now living with her dad. You’d said hello a few times when Joel happened to be chatting on the phone with her, but you hold onto the hope that maybe one day you can get to know her better.

“It’s gonna be a granola bar for breakfast sorta mornin’,” he announces as he strolls into the bathroom where you’re brushing your teeth. “Gonna grab a few for the ride.” His soft, warm palm rubs a few passes along your spine. He gives the side of your head a quick peck and heads back downstairs.

Your coffee, complete with its “disgusting caramel bullshit” as Joel likes to say, sits on the kitchen counter in a to-go cup. Joel calls from the front door for you to grab your lunches he packed. “Yes, chef!” you call back in a sing-song tone. Him taking over kitchen duties was certainly something you still weren’t used to. He wouldn’t even let you clear the dishes, let alone wash them. He’d allowed you to cook something a time or two, but only after you’d put your foot down and told him you really wanted to.

You felt guilty a lot of the time just basking in all of this love and care, but for Joel’s sake you held your tongue. It certainly wasn’t a bad thing to have to get used to, and it was undeniable that it made him happy.

“Hi, beautiful,” he hums as he opens the truck door for you. 

You smile and drop your cup into the holder of the console and lean to the side to tuck away the lunches. When you stand up straight again and grab the door for leverage to get into the truck, Joel holds you still for a moment and presses a soft kiss to the nape of your neck.

“You smell so good,” he groans.

“If you keep this up, we’re never gonna get to work,” you half-heartedly chide him.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he laughs back.

You snort and haul yourself up into your seat. Joel closes the door and doubles back to lock the front door. You crunch through several bites of the granola bar until you make it to a red light. Red lights had become a time where you held hands until the light turned green again. You’re not sure how it started or who started it, but it was just how things were now. Better. Consistent. Affectionate. You cover his knuckles with your palm and caress over each little ridge. The light changes, and you go back to eating your breakfast until the next red light.

You didn’t know it could be like this. He’d always been kind and caring and considerate, but you hadn’t ever been in a sustained sense of calm to truly absorb it. It was a complete sweep to your nervous system. It wasn’t just how he openly forbid you from messing with the dishes or even the dishwasher. He was upfront about it, no stepping on eggshells for fear of setting you off on a defensive eschewal. “Last time you tried it, it was too upsettin’ for you. You aren’t gonna punish yourself. You’re not gonna push yourself like that.”

And instead of the shame for not being able to override the triggers, you accepted it. He was right: it was too much right now. It wasn’t helpful to you or your healing to push yourself. Rather than crumble into yourself, you spoke up and asked what you could do instead. You, too, were upfront about it, how you needed to feel like you weren’t dead weight around the house – a burden.

“Find some options of somethin’ to watch. Read me the synopsis or whatever. We can pick what we wanna watch that way.”

So, you sat at the kitchen table most nights reading up on possible movies or shows while he cleared the dishes and loaded them up. When you snuggle up on the couch together after dinner, Joel almost always talks through the first 10 minutes of it. On the occasion that whatever you picked not being that good, you end up flipping through the TV channels while Joel tries and fails to stay awake. He holds you, nuzzles you. Clingy and endearing and protective.

You know it’s time to head upstairs, and you gently nudge him awake. He grumbles “5 more minutes,” snuggles you closer, and sometimes even pouts when you insist that it really is time to head upstairs. He checks all the locks, brings you both up some water, brushes his teeth next to you. He tells you how soft you are when he gets snuggle up against you again when you finally make it to bed.

It was a strange new world, knowing what to expect every day. The same familiar comfort of his company. The easy way you fit right into his home life, like he’d just been waiting to prove to you how much you were meant to be here. You wonder if one day the memories of your past life will begin to fade, leaving you like the bruises on your body all yellowing their way to nothingness.

“Ahhhh, just look at that,” he rasps. “Look how perfect you look takin’ this dick.”

You follow his call and glance up to catch your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Foot up on the counter. Joel’s forearm slung across your chest, hand cupped on your shoulder for leverage, while the other holds your thigh to keep your leg angled open. He fucks you from behind so you can both watch how you come undone for him.

“Never seen anything prettier than this.”

You note the blown out pupils and general hazy focus of yourself in the mirror. He’s right. It’s intoxicating to watch him, yourself, and where you’re connected.

“First one to ever open you up like this, and look at her. Just suckin’ it in like she’s starved. Fuckin’ hungry for this cock.”

You brace your hands on the edge of the counter, against his forearm, leaning into the mirror. Anywhere for something to steady yourself while he takes you hard and fast. Just like you asked. Just like you needed. All the nerves and doubts from a half hour ago feel like a far echo in the past. 

“Never even took a cock before this and look how good you do it,” he praises into your ear. “So fuckin’ good at just takin’ all of this, chokin’ it so tight—”

He lets out a deep rumbling groan, clearly getting caught up in his own dirty mouth. You loved seeing him like this, unrestrained and raw. Free to be less gentle with you, treat you like you weren’t some fragile thing moments away from fracturing into a million pieces. Ever since you moved into the safety of his home – the safety of his arms – all guards went by the wayside, all worry about saying or doing the wrong thing forgotten. You were both free now to confront all the unsightly and tangled parts of yourselves. All the ugly imperfections of your insecurities, worries, and shortcomings. All laid out bare for the other to acknowledge and decide it didn’t matter because the affection and devotion didn’t change despite these things coming to light.

“— But you’re my good girl, so of course you’re gonna take it so perfect for me, huh? Proud of my good girl takin’ all this cock all up in her guts.”

You reach between your legs to rub yourself, and Joel groans, “Fuck yeah. Can feel you gettin’ tighter. Lemme have it, baby. Lemme fuckin’ have it.”

Your body goes rigid with the force of it, a loud sound tearing from your throat, and you begin to shiver at the aftershocks. You fall limp against the counter and sigh heavily as you feel the hot bands of his spend shooting over the globes of your ass. It had all happened so fast you were glad that at least one of you remembered to pull out since you hadn’t stopped to use a condom.

A dopey smile spreads across your face when you feel him lean closer and hum a little sound of satisfaction and fatigue. Little whispers of how beautiful you are and how lucky he is. He starts the shower up, and you cock a self-assured eyebrow at him when you switch it to the overhead instead of the handheld he’d installed for you. Maybe if you’d been in here alone you would’ve used the shorter one, but Joel’s body pressed up against yours signaled to your brain that you were okay. You were safe here. You could bask in the aftermath of your physical intimacy and extend the dreamy bubble just a little longer as you held close to one another, giving little kisses here and there, washing each other’s hair.

There was no pounding pulse in your ears. No tight gut. No general unease. Just a gossamer of contentedness in perpetuity. He helped you choose between the two casual dresses Sarah had bought online for you. A pretty light blue wrap dress with fluttery sleeves. The brown, flat sandals felt a bit silly to wear, but it certainly looked like something that would make sense with the dress. Joel matched a simple button down and gray slacks, the cuffs rolled up against his forearms and the top buttons left open. You followed a YouTube tutorial on the simplest low bun you could find, and Joel opted for a light gelled look for himself.

“You sure I should drive in these things?” you fret.

You wiggle your foot to draw Joel’s attention. He tilts his head and says you’ll do just fine. He’s been teaching you to drive in earnest, and even quick trips to the store or to grab some dinner have made your confidence on the road grow like crazy. Driving in something other than slip ons or sneakers, however, was new, but neither were really appropriate for a graduation ceremony.

Kenzie’s graduation today was what had spurred this morning’s bout of insecurities and shame about not being as far ahead in life as you “should be.” You wanted to support your friend, but you couldn’t deny that you felt embarrassed in a lot of ways to be attending a celebration of people years younger than you who had their shit together with a degree to show for it. Joel had let you air out your thoughts and feelings but put a stop to it once you waded into “I feel like a loser sometimes” territory. 

He’d pointed out the hand you’d been dealt and what you’d managed to do with it, especially being able to hold onto kindness despite it all. It’s what had drawn him to you in the first place, that natural warmth and helpfulness he saw every time he came into the store to buy those lemonades. He stressed that those are the sorts of things people can’t really be taught. You avoided a pity party for yourself, but you still couldn’t completely shake the feelings of inadequacy. Joel fell back on what had been most effective as of late to shirk the bad mood entirely, and that’s what eventually got you bent over the bathroom counter.

You manage to drive without incident to the convention center where the graduation is being held. You walk arm in arm with Joel and feel steady on your feet. He finds you some seats and wraps an arm around the back of your chair, allowing for you to lean into him for the duration of the ceremony. Kenzie looks like a supermodel walking the stage, even from where you’re sat several sections back. You jump up and cheer with genuine excitement.

“Ooooohhhhhh! Oh my god. Lemonade Daddy is here?!” Kenzie squeals when you meet up with her outside. “Fuck, he looks good,” she gushes to you as if Joel weren’t standing right in front of her, looking a touch embarrassed at the compliments.

“He does, doesn’t he?” you agree, giving him a playful nudge that makes him roll his eyes and grin.

You take photos with her and even let her take a dozen of you and Joel together. Joel flushes even worse when Kenzie and her fellow graduate friends all gush over how cute he is, giggling excitedly over what a great catch you’ve got and how good you two look together.

“You got a brother? A cousin? A nephew??” one of them probes.

Kenzie isn’t quiet for long enough to let Joel answer, although you’re not entirely sure he’s upset about that at all, and simply tells him that if he does then he needs to bring them along to her graduation party in a couple of weeks. Joel’s eyes slide over to you in a silent question, and you smile shyly back at him.

“Oh. Yeah. I already RSVP’d us,” you inform him.

“Sounds like a great time,” he says without missing a beat. “We wouldn’t wanna miss it!”

You beam up at him and press a little kiss to the scruff of his beard. Kenzie’s dad shows up and chats with Joel for a little bit, and you overhear Joel mentioning he could “take a look at it when we come for the party.” You smile to yourself at him always managing to get caught up in contracting stuff one way or another.

You drive home and sling your fancy sandals off your feet the moment you get through the door. Joel laughs and shakes his head before picking them up and putting them neatly in the organizer just by the front hallway. It warms something in your chest to see him take your silliness in stride, not admonishing you for being messy or being annoyed that he had to clean up after you.

Always patient. Always kind. You wonder just how many things  you would have excelled at if only someone like him had always been in your life. There was no way to go back in time and know, of course, but the promise of what the future with Joel held was a damn good second chance.

tagging:

@magpiepills @reneerocks3617 @electriclasso @bizarrelove-triangle @wand-erer5

@sweetpascal @survivingandenduring @jrnreads @copperhalfcent @koshkaj-blog

@weho2kcmo @mrrumplebottom @mellymbee @missladym1981 @guelyury

@bonezone44 @for-a-longlongtime @pastelpinkflowerlife @guiltyasdave @jodiswiftle

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@favorite-fan-fic @confusedpuffin @fishingforpike @lavema @drunk-and-capable

[another-lost-mc]

Desperation

There's something wrong with Asmodeus.

ASMODEUS x afab!Reader 7.4k Words | NSFW | Smut with Feelings | Angst with a Happy Ending | First Time Summary: You were bullied by another student at RAD. Asmodeus hasn't been the same since. Content Warnings: Mentions of: anger, unhealthy coping mechanisms, possessive thoughts/behaviour, arguing and threats of violence, blood, brief bullying/harassment, bathing together, vaginal fingering, PIV sex. Reader uses gn!pronouns. ➤➤ Obey Me! Masterlist

The tub in Asmodeus’s private bathroom is more like a pool than any bathtub you ever used prior to coming to the Devildom. It’s as enchanting and mysterious as the demon himself. You’re not even sure how he fills it - it must have some magical charm that keeps it full. The fresh petals he adds to the water never seem to wilt or lose their scent.

You’re sitting with Asmo near the edge of the pool. You skim your fingers along the surface of the crystal-clear water and it ripples gently at your touch. Asmo sits behind you on the marble step and supports your weight while you lean against him. He hums gently into your ear while he runs his fingertips through the ends of your hair. His chest is warm against your back. He’s naked from the waist up, but he left his boxer briefs on - for your comfort more than his. 

Normally you wouldn’t let Asmo see you like this - naked, vulnerable - in the bath or out of it. But earlier when he said he wanted to take care of you, his eyes burning with an intensity that left you speechless, he swept you away to his private bathroom. You were both still reeling from what happened earlier that afternoon, and you realized you wanted his comfort as badly as he wanted yours.

It was supposed to be an ordinary day at RAD: classes with the demon brothers, a student council meeting with Diavolo and Barbatos, perhaps breaking up a fight or two depending how well they got along today. You were sorting through paperwork near the front of the room while the demons bickered in their seats on the dais behind you. 

What you didn’t expect was Solomon bursting through the doors, grinning when Thirteen followed him inside. He ducked behind you while he asked for her to be reasonable and you knew things were going to end badly. She screeched at him as she pulled some sort of black, metallic orb from her bag and tossed it with all her might. 

The trap missed Solomon but it hit your arm instead before it dropped to the floor. It beeped menacingly at your feet and you felt the twinge of pain shoot through your arm when you raised your hands to cover your face. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for whatever was about to happen. 

Thirteen ran over and disarmed the orb before it did whatever else it was supposed to do. She apologized to you but glared venomously at Solomon who was still hovering behind you. He rolled his eyes and tsked, completely unbothered by her fury when she continued threatening him for trying to break into her cave again.

Asmo came to your side before any of his brothers could and shouted at Thirteen and Solomon for involving you with their squabble and putting you in harm’s way. Lucifer followed him and reprimanded Thirteen for her irresponsible behaviour, and he blamed both her and Solomon for disrupting the meeting.

While Thirteen was being lectured by a very grumpy-looking Lucifer, Solomon turned to you with a sheepish smile and apologized for involving you in their little disagreement. You shrugged your shoulders to brush off his apology - it could’ve been worse, after all - but his eyes narrowed when you winced in pain.

“Are you alright? Here, let me take a look—“ he offered as he reached for the lapels of your blazer.

Asmo nudged you back, pushing Solomon’s hand away and effectively shielding you from him. “I think you’ve done enough,” he gritted out angrily. His expression would’ve scared anyone that didn’t know him better - he looked terrifying, and even Solomon must’ve thought so because he raised his hands placatingly and stepped back.

“Come on, let’s go home,” you suggested quietly, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket to get his attention. Your arm throbbed and the room felt uncomfortably tense as tempers flared; you didn’t want to be there anymore.

He looked at you over his shoulder and the fire in his gaze softened. He put his hand over yours and squeezed, turning from Solomon without another word and guided you towards the exit. He paused outside in the hallway long enough to murmur a quick healing spell to lessen the pain in your arm.

The walk home was quiet and uneventful, a blur of typical Devildom nighttime noise but the demon at your side had a scowl on his face that had others on the street giving you a wide berth. It wasn’t typical for the Asmo you know. He draped an arm over your shoulders to keep you tucked into his side but you could feel the tension in his body when you walked together.

When you arrived home, you started to walk towards your room for a shower and a nap, but he held onto your hand and seemed reluctant to let you go. No matter what you said, you couldn’t convince him you were fine; maybe he knew you were lying to yourself.

Let me take care of you.

When you agree to use his private bath, you don't expect that it’s going to be both of you bathing together. You’re too tired to argue -  and you’re genuinely worried about him too - so you finally relent and start to strip away the layers of your school uniform.

Asmo is visibly displeased when you ask him to dim the lights in a moment of self-consciousness. He reminds you that you have nothing to be ashamed of, but he does as you ask because he wants you to be comfortable.

While you undress, he gathers fluffy towels from a cabinet and sets them on the edge of the bathing pool. He grabs an empty basket and picks out bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. He even picks up a small bottle of fragrant oil and adds a couple drops to the water, satisfied when the steam from the warm water starts to diffuse the light floral scent. 

By the time you’re naked, he is standing in the tub, his underwear still on - you felt guilty that the silky material was probably being ruined by the water. He doesn’t seem to care about that or anything else except you. When you approach the pool hesitantly, a small smile graces his lips for the first time since the incident at school and he holds out his hand to you. When you place your hand in his, he keeps you steady while you step into the pool and wade through the water towards him. 

You want to sink below the surface of the water or shield your body from him with your hands, both desperate attempts to hide as much bare skin from him as you can. He senses your nervousness because he pulls you into a gentle hug that feels warm and soothing.

When you finally start to relax, he pulls away and reaches for the basket of toiletries floating nearby. You dunk your head into the water to wet your hair while he grabs the bottle of shampoo. He rubs his hands together and massages the suds onto your scalp. He hums quietly and your body sways gently in the water. Your eyes slip closed at the pleasant sensation of his fingertips working through your hair, rubbing at the back of your neck and melting away the tension between your shoulders. He does the same with the conditioner next; he seems to enjoy the sensation of your soft hair between his fingers while he pampers you.

You recognize the scent of the hair products and realize he’s using his own. His taste in cosmetics is luxurious and expensive, more than what you would ever dream to spend on yourself. You feel spoiled, like you’re someone precious. You’re distracted by how relaxed you feel, and you realize too late that he’s pouring body wash into his palm and sudsing it up between his hands.

He reaches for your left arm first, lacing your fingers together with one hand while he smooths the fragrant bubbles over your skin with the other. He does the same with your right arm, pausing before he accidentally touches the purple bruise forming where Thirteen’s trap struck you. He stares at the mark, barely brushing his fingers across it like he’s afraid of hurting you even more.

You squeeze his fingers to pull him out of the worried trance he’s fallen into. “It looks worse than it feels,” you say quietly. You try to reassure him but he doesn’t look like he believes you. He bends his head and brushes his lips over the mark before he continues with his task.

He washes your back, kneading the skin gently with his hands as he moves them across your body. He doesn’t stray below your waist, and he only washes the delicate column of your throat and shoulders before turning around to give you privacy. He gathers his basket and sets it on the edge of the pool while you quickly wash your chest.

You rinse the soapy layer off your skin by the time he turns around and pulls you into another hug. The water was a bit tepid now and it’s covered with a thin layer of film from the bath products he used.

“We should probably get out soon,” you murmur, resting against his bare chest. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says and he holds you a bit tighter. “No one is going to bother you tonight.”

You run your fingertips across the water’s surface. “But the water’s getting cool and it’s soapy.” It’s one of the reasons why you normally don’t like taking baths and prefer to shower.

But Asmo holds his hand above the water and starts whispering an incantation you don’t recognize. His hand glows and the water around you ripples gently before it settles. You nearly gasp at the odd sensation of the water instantly warming up again. The bubbly residue from his bath products is gone too.

“Well, that’s a neat trick,” you say with a quiet laugh. He watches your delighted reaction with a smile.

Asmo walks back towards the edge of the pool and pulls you with him. He hops back onto the marble step and scoots backwards. He spreads his legs and pats the space between them where he makes room for you. After a moment of deliberation, you follow him and settle against his chest. His thighs are bracketing your hips and one of his arms is crossed over your front.

He smooths your hair back and brushes it out of the way, hooking his chin over your shoulder with a sigh. He nuzzles your shoulder with his cheek. When you glance at him from the corner of your eye, you realize his eyes are closed.

“How do you feel?” you ask him in a near-whisper.

He turns his head towards you, humming in contemplation. You can feel his warm breath on your neck. “I should be asking you that,” he replies. He’s dodging your question.

You turn to face him properly - or as much as he allows with his arm still wrapped around you. “You were very upset with Solomon earlier,” you remind him. “You didn’t seem like yourself.”

Asmo’s eyes are open and they flash at the mention of the sorcerer’s name. “Did I frighten you?” 

You shake your head because it wasn’t fear you felt in that moment. “No, I wasn’t scared of you. I was worried.”

Asmo rests his forehead against your shoulder and sighs. “I don’t think you understand how hard it is when–“ he starts to say, then he makes a frustrated noise in his throat. "I don't like it when someone else hurts you.”

Asmo is protective of you the way all the other demon brothers are, so his answer doesn’t surprise you. But you’ve known for a while now that something between you has changed, like there’s some gap neither of you are able to cross. Most of the time he seems like himself - carefree, happy, excited by all the wonderful things in the world that he loves. When he’s not himself, his eyes are cold and his tone is sharp.

Sometimes you forget that Asmo’s capable of rage or violence as much as his brothers are, even though he tries not to show you that side of him. The anger in his eyes earlier when he faced off against Solomon in your defense was very real. You’re surprised he didn’t shift into his demon form; perhaps he would have if you hadn’t gotten him out of there in time.

“Does this have to do with what happened a few months ago?” you ask hesitantly.

His body freezes for a split second but it’s enough for you to notice. His arm tightens around you ever so slightly.

“We never did talk about that, did we?” he sighs. He sounds nervous, uncertain - you know he’s trying to avoid having this conversation with you, but you don’t know why. 

“No, but maybe we should. I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I’m worried about you - and not just today. You’ve been…” you gesture vaguely with your hand, “…different lately. After what happened.”

The water is still warm but it feels like you’ve both overstayed your welcome. Asmo relaxes his hold on you and leans over to grab a towel for himself. He stands and quickly dries himself off. The boxer briefs he wears leave little to the imagination when the water-soaked fabric sticks to his skin. Your cheeks burn when you turn away quickly to give him privacy, and you hear him chuckle under his breath.

He sets the towel over his shoulder and grabs a second one for you. He holds it open in front of him and you stand quickly, stepping out of the pool and letting him wrap you in the towel like a blanket.

He tips your face up with a finger under your chin and looks into your eyes. He leans closer and his eyes dart to your lips for the briefest moment. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he shakes his head and gestures for you to follow him to his room.

You dry yourself off quickly while he steps into the privacy of his walk-in closet. Your RAD uniform is in a crumpled pile somewhere and you wait for him to return, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself so you don’t get cold.

Asmo steps out of his closet wearing a bathrobe that’s tied loosely at his waist. You catch brief glimpses of his bare thighs when he walks towards you; it’s obvious he’s not wearing anything underneath. He hands you a spare bathrobe to put on as well, and he collects the discarded towels and tosses them in the laundry hamper while you shrug the robe onto your shoulders. 

Asmo lays on his bed above the covers, sinking into the pile of ornamental pillows against his headboard. He raises his arm invitingly and you settle on the bed beside him, tucking yourself under his arm and letting your head rest against his shoulder. One of your hands is on his chest and he covers it with his own.

He peppers the top of your head with a few brief, barely-there kisses then sighs warily. He’s delayed this conversation long enough.  “What would you like to ask first?”

You think back to nearly three months ago when a loud slam woke you up in the middle of the night. A yell echoed down the hall from your room and it prompted you to get out of bed quietly and tiptoe outside. What if someone was hurt? you worried at the time. The sound of hushed, frantic voices led you to the front hallway. 

“Asmo?” you whisper, staring at the demon you barely recognized. Blood was splattered across his arms and face, his clothes stained and torn. He was speaking to Lucifer, but his eyes met yours for a moment before he looked away again. You took a hesitant step towards him, but Mammon appeared out of nowhere, blocking Asmo from view and gently pushing you back towards your room.

“You can talk to him tomorrow,” he said quietly, glancing at his brothers over his shoulder. “He wouldn’t want you to see him like this.”

“What happened that night when I saw you in the foyer?” you ask.

“Diavolo finally agreed with Lucifer’s recommendation that the demon bothering you should be expelled from RAD.” Asmo hides his smirk in your hair. “Lucifer decided his punishment deserved a personal touch, so he sent me on behalf of the student council to make sure he went back to the corner of hell he came from. He might’ve been a little worse for wear, but in one piece.” Mostly one piece, anyway.

“Why did Lucifer ask you to do it?” you wonder, looking at him curiously. A thought suddenly occurs to you, and you push up so you can look at him properly. “Does that have to do with the fight you two had?” You weren’t sure what happened, but in the days leading up to that night, Lucifer and Asmo barely seemed to get along; they ignored each other at mealtimes and exchanged icy glares when they were forced to speak about official school business.

Asmo smiles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course it does,” he says. “You tried to hide it from us, but I knew that demon was harassing you. I was worried about you but Lucifer insisted on following protocol. I found his lack of urgency frustrating.”

“I think we need to reconsider allowing the new student to study at RAD,” Asmo said from his seat in Lucifer’s office, his voice quiet and serious. 

Lucifer sighed warily. It wasn’t the first time Asmo spoke to him of his concerns regarding the new demon on campus but his accusations were vague and unsubstantiated. “I already told you that my hands are tied unless he does something actionable.” When Asmo opened his mouth to argue, Lucifer added quickly, “something actionable with proof.”

But something in Asmo’s tense expression made Lucifer hesitate. “What’s wrong?”

Asmo shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it. That demon is dangerous.” He doesn’t say that he’s terrified something bad might happen, that he might not be there in time to save you if it does.

Lucifer leaned back and rubbed his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. “I believe you, but Diavolo needs some sort of evidence to justify expulsion if we want to to avoid any political repercussions. Your intuition simply isn't enough.”

Asmo stood from the chair with a frown and strode away. “If you don’t do something about him now, it could be too late.” He pulled the door open and glared at Lucifer over his shoulder. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he snarled before slamming the door closed behind him.

Asmo pulls you against him and rolls you both over. When you’re both laying on your sides, he wraps an arm around your waist. He smiles when you copy him. 

“I thought it was something I could handle on my own,” you finally admit outloud. “I hoped things would get better with time. I didn’t want to involve anyone else if I didn’t have to.”

But since you didn’t tell Asmo about anything that was going on, you still have to wonder, ”How did you know what was going on if I didn't tell anyone?”

Asmo cuddles a bit closer to you and his eyes slip closed when he tightens his hold on you. “Call it a hunch.”

Mammon tried to explain it to you during your early days as an exchange student. You were curious about Asmo’s fixation on beautiful things - including himself. “It’s not just about beauty or sex with him - it’s about passion. Anger, hatred - he can sense those feelings too but that sorta passion’s ugly to him. That's why he focuses on the feelings that make him feel good. That’s why when he sets his mind to something, he puts in everything he’s got, every time. It’s all or nothin’ with that guy. He doesn’t do half measures.”

It was fortunate that you were still at RAD the day things spiraled out of control. The demon that was bullying you had you cornered in an otherwise empty classroom. He pushed your shoulders against the stone wall and hissed with explicit details how he planned to decorate the room with your insides. Despite all your power and education, you froze in the face of real danger. You were naive to think that there weren’t demons left in the Devildom that would still want to harm you.

Whatever the demon was about to do next was interrupted when the classroom door opened suddenly. The passerby yelled for help and within moments the demon was pulled off you. You slumped to the ground, overwhelmed by the adrenaline and fear coursing through your veins. 

Afterwards, you would remember it was Asmo who picked you up and carried you to the infirmary, who sat at your side and held your hand while you were examined for injuries. It was Asmo who slept in your bed that night to help fend off bad dreams, who stayed home with you the next day while Diavolo and Lucifer finished their investigation.

You had all the pieces to explain what happened, the truth that you were too blind to see: it was Asmo that asked to carry out the demon's punishment because he threatened to kill you.

“What have you done?” Lucifer snapped angrily when he confronted Asmo in the front hallway. He expected his brother home hours ago.

“I did as you asked,” Asmo said in an eerily calm, detached voice. “He’s on his way back to the outer ring and we won’t have to see him ever again.” 

Lucifer grabbed Asmo’s arm when he tried to walk away. “When I gave you permission to do this, I stated very clearly the limitations of what you could and could not do. We all feel the way you do, but–”

“I warned you this would happen!” Asmo cried, aura burning as his rage flared. He quieted himself, remembering the late time and not wanting to wake the others, or you. “He’s still alive. If I ever see him again, he won’t be so lucky.”

You knew Asmo was a powerful demon - he was a demon prince of the Devildom, after all - but you never realized his potential for anger or violence could match the intensity of his love and admiration for the things he held most dear. It overwhelmed you to think that he considered you something worth protecting.

But the more you thought about it, the more you realized you underestimated the depth of his feelings for you. He tried to tell you so many times in so many ways that you were important to him. He brought his manicure kit to your room so he could do his nails while you did your homework. When you finished, he would reward you by doing your nails too. He invited you on spontaneous trips to Majolish or your favourite cafe, refusing your offers to pay for the gifts he bought for you. He was always trying to take your photo, or he’d pull you to his side for selfies together. When you asked him why none of the photos ended up on Devilgram like most of his other pictures, he just winked and said he wanted to keep those pictures for himself.

He teased you playfully if other demons tried to ask you out, and he even encouraged you to accept sometimes - not that you ever had interest in any of those other demons, and he knew it. That didn’t stop him from giving you his usual pep talk before all of the dances you were invited to attend at Diavolo’s castle or The Fall:

“If anyone tries anything with you that you don’t like, blast them with some of that magic of yours. Or better yet, summon me and I’ll take care of it. No matter where I am, I’ll come to you. I promise.”

The realization dawns upon you and you feel like you’re drowning, emotions choked by the truth you’ve always known about his feelings for you, and your feelings for him.

“How long have you felt this way about me?” you ask him, your whispered voice breaking. 

When he opens his eyes, they begin to glow as he gazes at you with so much love - it’s hard to breathe. His cheeks flush just the slightest bit pink when his lips slowly tick up in a small smile. “Oh, my precious darling, when have I not?”

You bury your head against his chest to hide the tears spilling down your cheeks. You’re sobbing and shaking your head, whispering apologies over and over again while your fingers clench the silky material of his robe.

“It’s alright,” Asmo says quietly, his hand rubbing your back in an effort to calm you. “I’m here. Everything is going to be fine from now on, I promise.”

You look at him through blurry, red-rimmed eyes when he pushes you back gently so he can see your face. “But y-you did all that for me and I didn’t know. Or I-I-I think I knew but I pretended I didn’t. Things have felt so off between us and it’s my fault. If I wasn’t so weak, maybe I could’ve—“

Asmo frowns slightly and puts a finger to your lips to quiet you. “Nothing that happened was your fault. I did what I needed to do to keep you safe. I’ll save you as many times as I have to.” He cradles the back of your head and leans forward to brush his lips against your brow.

“I love you,” he says when he lowers his head and kisses your cheek.

“And I’ll never let anything happen to you,” he whispers when his nose brushes against yours and he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth.

The kiss is soft enough that you can ignore it, giving you the chance to turn away, to pretend it didn’t happen. He’s giving you an out, you realize. But when you’re this close, all you can see is the faint glow of his clementine eyes.

The kiss you offer him in return is soft and sweet.

His eyes flutter closed as he moans quietly, and the way he tilts his head so he can slot his mouth against yours reminds you this isn’t a dream. 

“Please,” he murmurs repeatedly against your lips. The quiet, needy pleas are muffled but you understand him perfectly.

When you nod, he doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, groaning when his lips move against yours harder and with more urgency. When you part your lips, he licks into your mouth, moaning between swipes of his tongue like he’s devouring you, starved for everything you can give him. His hand slides down your body, squeezing your waist gently before he pulls you tighter against him like he’s trying to blur the lines where you end and he begins.

When you start to roll onto your back, Asmo follows without hesitation, sliding a knee between your thighs and pressing his chest against yours. His kisses become sloppy and the soft, wet sounds are punctuated by your breathy moans.

You’re able to touch him more easily in this position and you tentatively skim your hands along his arms and across his shoulders until your fingers find purchase in his hair. There’s a rumbling noise that vibrates in his chest, and when you tug on his hair with just a bit more force, he breaks the kiss with a groan that makes the dull throb between your legs ache with need.

His hands are everywhere when he drags his lips across your jaw and down your neck. He’s panting between fiery, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. When he latches into the junction between your neck and shoulder and sucks with just a hint of teeth, you gasp.

He hums when he pulls back slightly to admire the mark he’s left on your skin. He raises himself up on his hands so he can look at you properly. You take the opportunity to explore him too, hands sliding down his chest slowly until they settle at his waist. You feel him shudder at your touch. 

“I should be doing this properly,” he says suddenly. When you tilt your head in confusion, he explains, “getting dolled up for you, taking you out for a romantic dinner, seducing you afterwards.” He grins when you flush with embarrassment, but his smile falters after a moment when his gaze pierces yours. “You deserve that. I can give you that if you want. We don’t have to go any further tonight if you’re not ready.”

You cup his cheek. “Do you want to stop?” you ask curiously.

He turns his head so he can kiss the inside of your wrist. “Fuck, no,” he breathes, shaking his head. His hair falls over his eyes, totally unkempt. He’s beautiful like this.

Earlier it was hard to ignore the weight of his cock hardening against your hip, the stilted movements when he kept himself from grinding against you while you kissed. It makes you feel less self-conscious of your own desire, the way his pleased sounds made you feel hot with need. The insides of your thighs are damp with slick and you’re desperate for some kind of friction against your clit. You’ve been clenching around nothing, secretly wanting him to fill you but not having the courage to ask for more. 

“I want you too,” you whisper, staring into his eyes and it feels like you’re finally being honest, trying not to let fear ruin the promise of what his love can offer you. You’re emboldened by the way his eyes are smoldering when he looks at you, the way you’re both trembling with need and the way your voices shake with so much emotion. You don’t want him to have any doubts about how you feel about him or about how desperately you want him too.

He only hesitates a moment before he pushes himself to his knees. One of his knees is still wedged between your thighs, not quite close enough to give you the friction to grind yourself against him. He undoes the knot holding his robe closed and slides it off his shoulders. The sight of his naked chest leaves you breathless.

Your eyes roam across his smooth, unblemished skin. Your fingers grasp the blanket when you feel the itch to grab him and pull him back down. You’re close to begging for him to touch you, and something must flicker across your expression because his gaze darkens. The sweet, somewhat bashful tilt to his lips sharpens into something a little more hungry. 

He leans down, one hand clenching the sheets for balance while he slips his other arm between your bodies. You feel his fingers pull at the thin fabric of your robe and pry it apart and the sudden chill causes goosebumps to spread across your exposed skin. You resist the urge to cover your breasts when you feel your nipples harden. 

“You’re lovely,” he whispers, kissing your cheek softly. “You’re so incredibly beautiful, I can barely stand it.” You tilt your head back when his nose grazes along your jaw and he scrapes his teeth against the sensitive skin below your ear. He pulls your earlobe between his teeth and tugs, licking the skin in a mock apology when you gasp and arch your back against his chest.

“I bet you say that to all your dates,” you whimper. His desire is intoxicating but you can feel the self-doubts bubbling over, your inhibitions threatening to spill from your lips and ruin everything. Before you can say anything else, Asmo sighs his head and tilts your head so you’re forced to look him in the eye.

“None of that matters anymore, not when I finally have you,” he says quietly, like it’s some sort of oath. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He gives you a hard, quick kiss. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long.”

He shuffles closer and his cock hangs heavy against you. The tip is dribbling precum and it feels warm and sticky on your thigh. His head tilts back with a moan and he slowly rubs against you, painting your skin with his desire and leaving no room for doubt that he wants you.

You can’t stop yourself from reaching for him and you pull him closer as you spread your legs invitingly. “Asmo, please–”

He growls quietly and in an instant his lips are around one of your nipples while his hand snakes back down between your bodies. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud, and he sucks it into his mouth at the same time his long fingers dip between your folds. Your hips jolt when he brushes against your clit, puffy and wet with your desire and it’s all for him.

Asmo moans around your nipple when he feels the wetness between your legs. He kisses across your breasts as he starts grinding against you a bit harder than before.

“You’re almost ready for me, aren’t you?” he asks, amazed by how utterly perfect you are, bare and needy under him. He licks his lips and you can see a hint of his fangs when he grins.

The way he looks at you makes you squirm underneath him. You move your hips and try to chase his fingers as he explores the soft skin of your folds. The delicious pressure of his fingertips rubbing against your clit is enough to make your thighs quake. You feel the beginnings of your release, but you whine when he suddenly moves his fingers away. Before you can ask him to touch you again, he slips a finger inside you and the sudden fullness makes you groan. 

He’s hypnotized by the way your body moves in tandem with his, arching your back and undulating your hips as he pumps his finger inside. He’s being slow and deliberate, studying your face for every reaction, and when he adds another finger he thrusts them both in deep. You take the intrusion so well, like your body was made to be his, and he knows you're close when your moans pitch higher and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets.

“You feel so perfect around my fingers,” he murmurs, watching with half-lidded eyes as his fingers move faster in and out of you. He bites his lip when he feels you clench around him, and he’s nearly mad with the desire to have you finally wrapped around his cock. “You’re so responsive.” He strokes your clit with his thumb as his fingers stretch and tease your gummy walls, crooking his fingers inside you like he’s inviting you to sin.

The sensations drive you to the edge and you’re chasing your release, eyes closed and swallowing thickly after you choke on a moan that sounds suspiciously like his name. “I want you so badly,” you beg, and your voice sounds breathy and pathetic to your ears but you can feel the heat of his gaze on you when your body tightens around him. He keeps brushing over that spot inside that feels so good and you don’t want the feeling to stop, you want more. “I want you to come inside me, I want–” 

You cry out as the orgasm crashes through you out of nowhere, wave after unrelenting wave of pleasure setting your body ablaze as his greedy fingers coax every last breathy moan from your lips. He savors the way your body flutters around him, like you’re overwhelmed by the feeling of his fingers still pumping inside you but your pretty little hole’s too greedy to let him go.

Asmo finally pulls his hand away when you try to clench your thighs closed to stop him from teasing your oversensitive nerves. He sits back on his heels and waits patiently while you catch your breath. Your skin glistens lightly with sweat and he can’t stop staring at you.

When you finally open your eyes, he brings his slick-soaked fingers to his mouth, licking your essence from his fingertips before sucking them both into his mouth greedily. Once they’re clean, he releases them with a quiet pop.

“You taste delicious,” he coos appreciatively. He’s so tempted to dive between your legs, to lap up every last drop of slick that clings to your folds. He wants to breathe in your intoxicating scent until it’s seared into his memory forever, to plunder your hole with his tongue until you can’t possibly give him more. 

But as much as Asmo wants to make himself a new home between your legs buried tongue-deep inside you, or to pull you on top of him so you can grind against his face so he’s drenched in your slick, he knows that will have to wait until next time.

He’s been with hardly anyone else since what happened a few months ago. He was overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings for you - the fear of losing you, the need to claim you properly - and it sent him into a tailspin. He tried to pretend there was nothing wrong and he went to his usual haunts, but he didn’t want any of those other demons: none of them were you. 

Now that he has you, he’s not sure anything can possibly be better than this: the way you looked swept away by pleasure; your loud, high-pitched sounds like music to his ears; and the way you fucked yourself on his fingers and begged for his cock inside you - it’s too much temptation for even the Avatar of Lust to bear. 

When the sensitivity has ebbed and you’ve caught your breath, you let your thighs fall open again and Asmo doesn’t hesitate to shuffle between them properly. His cock bumps against you and when he lowers himself to his forearms above you, he teases you with the glide of his cock along your folds. He rolls his hips slightly so that the tip of his cock grazes your clit and then he pushes even lower, letting the head of his cock tease at your hole. He adds just enough pressure at your entrance that promises more, and that has you moaning in anticipation and spreading your legs even wider for him.

You lift your thighs so they rest against his hips to keep him in place, to encourage him to come even closer, to fill you so you never feel empty again.

His head tips back and soft sighs fall from his lips when he finally pushes inside. Neither of you seem to care about the way your body squelches obscenely with the slow drag of his cock along your walls. It’s a smooth glide until he finally bottoms out and he moans, but he blinks his eyes open rapidly, surprised at the sudden wetness clinging to his eyelashes. One of your hands is clutched to his back, the sharp grip of your fingernails a delightful mixture of pleasure and pain.

You cup his face with your other hand and wipe away the rogue tears that roll down his cheek. “I love you so much,” you say in a quiet, shaky voice, because there’s nothing more perfect you can say in this moment, not when his body cages yours and you feel so utterly wanted. When his cock twitches eagerly inside you, you wonder why it took so long to do this together; it feels like you were both fighting inevitability.

He nuzzles against your hand and kisses your palm before he rolls his hips with a few shallow, exploratory strokes. You both moan, and your other hand leaves his cheek so you can grasp onto his shoulder to brace yourself.

Asmo bites his lip when he rocks into you again. “You feel—“ he breaks off with a groan, wincing when your walls squeeze around him. “You feel so fucking good, I don’t think I’m going to last.” 

Despite the pleasure gripping his senses, he feels the faintest ripple of embarrassment too. He’s worried about disappointing you after finally getting to have you after all this time. The longing for you festered so deep within him that even touching someone that wasn’t you didn’t really satisfy him anymore. He’s overcome by his desire for you even though he tried to ignore it, because he didn’t know if you wanted him, if you were ready for what he wanted to give you so badly—

But you breathe out his name and the unabashed lust in your eyes is unmistakable. You’re panting lightly, wetting your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue and he tracks the movement greedily. “I just want you,” you say when you tighten your legs around his waist, urging him even deeper. 

That’s all the invitation Asmo needs. He braces himself on his hands and starts to move inside you with slow, controlled thrusts. The heat of your walls wrapped around his cock and your soft, needy moans and whimpers overwhelm his senses, and it’s hard to maintain the gentle rocking of his hips against yours when he feels the tethers of his self-control start to snap.

He puts more power into his movements, answering your whimpered pleas for him to fuck you, to give it to you harder and faster. You’re not commanding him, but you don’t have to; he obeys willingly with the rough snap of his hips as he fucks you into his mattress. He growls approvingly when you toss your head back in submission and pleasure, whining and choking on the moans he drags out of you with every push and pull of his cock claiming you from the inside-out.

The bed frame creaks from the force of his thrusts and the headboard bangs against the wall, but Asmo doesn't care, not when it feels like you’re both teetering on the edge of an abyss and he’s so close to falling. He’s determined to drag you down with him.

“Touch yourself,” he whispers in a rough voice when he feels his orgasm approaching.  “I want you to come with me.” He doesn’t remember the last time he felt so desperate, but you reach between your bodies and start stroking your clit in time with his powerful thrusts. Your body clenches around him almost immediately and your back arches, and his cock is suddenly enveloped with even more slickness when you come for him a second time, his name falling from your lips in a broken cry.

He can’t possibly last after that and he doesn’t want to, and your pleasure rips the orgasm from him and he cries out when he spills inside you, marking you as his in a way no one else possibly can. His hips stutter as his thrusts become sloppy and shallow, and the desperate haze clears from his mind when satisfied exhaustion takes its place.

You both groan when his softening cock finally slips from your body. He collapses at your side to avoid crushing you with his weight, and he pulls you against him. You’re both hot and sticky and the air smells like musk from sweat and sex. Asmo knows there’s a wet spot drying on his sheets where your slick and his come pooled between your thighs.

He knows you’re both exhausted, but he hasn’t felt this content in weeks.

You nuzzle into his shoulder and sigh, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. You’re still trembling slightly, but you melt into his embrace and it makes his throat thicken with emotion. 

“I think we need another bath,” you murmur sleepily. Your lips tickle where they graze his skin and he smiles.

“Later,” he promises and he wraps his arms around you. “Stay with me tonight,” he whispers.

Stay with me forever, he thinks and doesn’t say out loud. But when you nod and cuddle even closer to him before sleep claims you, Asmo believes he didn’t have to.

[luimagines]

hey hey! it’s been awhile

could i please ask for a continuation to the wars soulmate au?

-🫓

Sure thing buddy! :)

Masterlist

Part 1

Content under the cut!

Now- you pitch yourself off a cliff. That's what.

You stand up abruptly- breaking the tension before it can fully form and run out of the room.

This is mortifying.

This is not what you wanted to learn today even if it still makes sense given what Sky had told you about how the soulmate stones worked. Of course Warrior was your soulmate. Had to be. It's not like it would have been one in a bajillion chance at ever meeting him.

And what does it say for when all of this is over?

You do abandon your friends and family for the sake of following him? You can't ask him to follow you. He's too important. Too many people are depending on him for him to simply go with you and live whatever simple life you had to offer.

Is this the end then? Are you still doomed? You doubt you would be able to move on from this even if you were never going to be together.

"Hold it!" Someone grabs your arm.

You scream and jump, trying to tear your arm away but it's Warrior.

Of course it's Warrior.

"What?" You ask with you heart in your throat. "Don't make this harder than it has to be. Please!"

He stills and instantly lets you go. Whatever words he had on his tongue die in an instant and you have the ever subtle feeling that perhaps you shouldn't have said that. Could this get any worse?

Warrior takes a deep breath, bravely meeting your eyes. "I'm sorry."

Why must you tempt the universe? How much more must you pay for your hubris?

Your jaw drops and your stand there stunned. "Wait-"

"I just..." Warrior starts again, cutting you off. "I'm sorry. I'm probably not your first choice." -Oh my god- "I know that my past has more baggage than it's worth." -What have you done?- "But I thought... The stones were honest though, right?"

He looks so hopeful. Had he actually wanted something from you? With you? You sudden get cotton mouth. You can't speak. Your brain flat lines there are no thoughts for you to grab onto.

"Right?" He echoes his previous question, wanting confirmation. "Even... if that was incredibly embarrassing, it was true, wasn't it?"

Somehow you nod.

Warrior lets out a shuddering breath. "Oh... Oh, ok... good. Uh- I mean. I'm... I'm glad that you.. um... Look, I really like you." He says, biting the bullet. "Like... really really like you. I wasn't- I didn't want to seem like I was coming on too strong and the guys give me a hard time enough as it is. But if this is true... If you like me too, do you think...?"

You feel like you need to sit down again. you're only saving grace is that you're outside where no one seemed to have followed you. "...You... like me?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" He flushes, the tips of his ears burning a bright red. "I had thought you believed I was just a joke."

"Funny." You choke on the word. "That couldn't have been further from the truth."

"What is the truth?" Warrior stress, boldly closing the distance between you again. His blushing features don't help him stay stoic and cool like he would have hoped.

You gulp. You don't have the words. This is both agonizingly slow and much too fast for you to handle. Why couldn't he just read your mind and- Wait. The stones.

Double wait.

You're close to each other. The stone would be silent. Cursed be the need to communication!

You take his hand instead and hold it tight. "I think... we both already know the truth."

You kiss his knuckles before you can second guess yourself. His hands are smoother and softer than you would have thought. He wasn't wearing his hand guards yet, still in his casual wear.

The effect of your kiss on Warrior was another delightfully bright blush all over his face, down to his neck and beyond. "I.... I see."

"Do you?" You whisper, feeling like a fish out of water. Everything about this feels raw and sensitive. One wrong move and everything would blow up.

"I think so." Warrior leans in, kissing your cheek. "Better?"

You suddenly feel like you can breathe again. "Much better."

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 7

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | Your usual daily session is interrupted and chaos follows not long after.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, praise, degradation, face fucking, deep throating, exhibitionism??, grinding, fear gas, angst, kind of? He’s just not good at emotions, but you are very persistent lmao.

Words | 3.3k

Notes | I hope y'all remember what happens in Batman begins lmao. (Okay I’m worried I made the end too complicated because I had to reread some of the things he said multiple times and really think about it to understand what he was trying to say… lmk what y’all think of it pls)

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 6

You started a nice routine. So far he’s only been gone one day, but other than that you would always come to his office sometime around lunch, depending on if he was able to let himself have a break from his work or not. Usually after you ate was when he would give you a few things to do, but sometimes he got too impatient and fucked you instead. He learned very quickly though that your come drunk mind is not able to complete anything he gives you, so he does his best to wait and save that until after you’ve done a decent amount of work. He still hasn’t had you help with the experiments directly yet though. Which you thought was weird given how eager he seemed for your help. Okay maybe not eager…

Two weeks passed by quickly and you found yourself looking forward to each day, which you haven’t felt since you got here. You tried not to think about that too much though. 

He brought pasta today, in to-go containers, and you ate it eagerly. He was mostly used to your eating habits by now, understanding that you’re only getting one decent tasting meal a day, but he still often reprimanded you for eating too fast. 

“How much time is left of your lunch break?” You asked as you finished your food and he glanced at the clock on the wall. 

“Half an hour.” 

“Good.” You stood up, discarding the empty container on his desk, and walked over to him. When you dropped to your knees, he raised his brows and eyed you curiously. “Move back.” You said, glancing down to the chair. Without saying a word, he rolled the chair back and you slipped under the desk, using the arms of the chair to pull him back in. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, but it was amused, not a warning. You placed a hand over his already hardening cock, making his breath hitch. 

“If you really don’t want me to, I guess I can stop.” You said, knowing he wouldn’t dare do anything of the sort. When he didn’t respond, you worked on freeing his length, then took it in your hand, stroking it to full hardness. He let out a shaky breath and both hands came down to your hair, making you pause. 

“Keep eating, doctor.” You teased and his cock twitched. He huffed, but removed one hand, the other threading through your hair. You continued stroking him, then leaned down and enveloped the tip in your mouth. His grip on your hair tightened, but he gave no other indication that he was affected by your ministrations. Which only made you want to try harder. You swallowed him deeper in your mouth, hand stroking the base, then started moving up and down at a slow pace. He let you maintain control for a while, his hand tight on your hair but not pushing you down just yet. 

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you placed both hands on his thighs and forced yourself down as far as you could without gagging. He let out a choked moan and his hand suddenly forced you down the rest of the way, making your eyes widened as they filled with tears. He let out a low moan as he held you there, even as you dug your nails into his covered thighs. When he finally let you pull off, you coughed lightly, but quickly continued. 

“So eager. Do you like sucking me off?” You moaned around his length in agreement, never slowing the bobbing of your head. “I can tell. I bet you’re already soaked.” He chuckled and your face heated up. You let out a startled moan when he suddenly pushed his leg out between your thighs, pressing it against your core. You took the stimulation greedily, rutting against his leg as you hallowed out your mouth and pressed your tongue against the underside of his length. 

You weren’t sure if he was still eating, but his free hand was still above the desk and he stopped talking for a moment so you assumed he was. When you went all the way down and froze again, he pushed you down the rest of the way until his cock passed your throat barrier, making you choke. 

“That’s it. You just need a little help getting there, don’t you?” He said through a moan and your hips bucked faster at the passable excuse for praise. “We'll have to work on that though. I shouldn’t have to do all the work every time, should I?” You sputtered around his cock, tears falling down your cheeks, staining the fabric of his pants. When you tried to push yourself back up, his grip on your hair turned painful and he forced you down impossibly deeper. 

“Shh, just take it.” He uttered softly at your panicked choking. Finally stopping the pressure, you quickly pulled away, coughing and almost hyperventilating, making him roll back a little to see your face. “You can take a little more right? I’m so close.” Even though his tone sounded a little mocking, you were pretty sure he was genuinely asking. So you cleared your throat and nodded, letting out a raspy, “yeah.”

“Good girl.” He said, giving you a proud smile, and your hips stuttered forward at the praise, making his smile turn into a small smirk. He rolled back in and let you pick up where you left off, bobbing your head up and down his length, now very encouraged to help him reach his orgasm. He seemed to grow impatient though and he moved your head faster, fucking your mouth, almost breaching your throat barrier with each thrust. He fucked you like that a few times before someone knocked on the door. Your eyes widened and he forced you all the way down, holding you there. 

“Dr. Crane?” Someone called out from the other side. 

“No sounds.” He warned, tightening his grip to hold you flush to his pelvis. “Come in.” You were so incredibly glad that the back of his desk was covered when you heard the door open. 

“Miss Dawes is back. She’s asking about Falcone.” The man said. Your eyes burned and so did your lungs the longer you went without oxygen. When you let out a choked whimper and instinctively tried to pull off, he released your hair to instead place a hand on the back of your head, holding you against him with an iron grip. 

“I am on my lunch break.” 

“She’s insisting.” The man above you let out a heavy sigh. 

“Fine. Tell her I’ll be there in a few minutes.” The door closed and he released you, letting you pull off as you coughed and sputtered, a trail of saliva connecting the head of his cock to your lips. He waited impatiently for you to recover before using both hands to grab your head and force you back down, starting a brutal pace of pounding your mouth. Each thrust made your choke and gag as he forced his cock into your throat every time. When he cursed under his breath and his hips started bucking with each move of your head, you knew he was nearing his orgasm. 

He pulled you all the way down with a low moan and you felt hot come hitting the back of your throat, not even letting you swallow it because of how deep he was. You let out a muffled whimper as he continued holding you there, only letting you pull away once his cock stopped twitching. 

As you recovered, he used the napkins he brought for lunch to wipe his cock before tucking himself back in his pants and moving the chair back. 

“Come here.” He said softly, holding a hand out for you to take. You crawled out from under his desk and used his hand to get to your feet, leaning against the furniture behind you. When he stood and used a clean napkin to wipe your face, your cheeks heated up. “I’m sorry I cannot stay with you this time.” He said, focusing on the task. 

“It’s okay.” You croaked, clearing your throat when you heard how hoarse your voice was. 

“Before I forget,” He discarded the napkin then reached into the plastic bag from the restaurant, pulling out another to-go container— this one much smaller than the other one— and handing it to you, “I thought you might enjoy this.” You took it from him and could practically feel your mouth salivating at the sight of the brownie in the box. It was nothing fancy, just a plain brownie, but you haven’t had dessert in weeks and you started to miss chocolate. 

“Oh this looks amazing. Thank you.” You smiled, looking up at him, receiving a nod and a tight lipped smile in response.  

“I will escort you back.” He said, taking a step away from you to let you move away from the desk as he collected his things. “Grab your bag.” He said, when you started walking without it. 

“Right… sorry.” You said sheepishly, feeling a blush creep up on your cheeks. He made no other comment about your mistake as he led you to the door while you put the container in your bag. “Who’s Miss Dawes?” You asked as you walked down the now familiar hallways. 

“No one of your concern.” He said coldly, but he seemed to notice his tone. “Someone who’s been getting too close to what I’m doing here.” He explained, tone still void of emotion, but not as harsh. 

“I see.” You said, then added, “You can’t do anything about it?” He turned to you with an almost amused expression on his face because of what you were implying.  

“No. She works for the DA's office.” 

“Oh.” You arrived at your cell and he opened the door for you. 

“I will see you soon. I am not exactly sure when that will be though.” He said, easing your nerves, probably because of what he did the last time he returned you to your cell. 

“Okay.” You walked inside, then turned and gave him a small smile, receiving a curt nod in response before he closed the door. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you finished the brownie, got through six chapters of a book and covered two pages of the sketch book in drawings before you started growing a little tired. Not knowing what time it was, you decided to just lay down and try to sleep, but a loud noise followed by an alarm had you bolting up in your bed. You got up to try and see anything through the small window on the door, but the hallway was empty. Deciding not to feed into your anxiety, you turned back around, but froze at the sound of your door being unlocked. Was whoever was responsible for the alarms coming for you now? 

You all but sighed in relief when Dr. Crane was on the other side of the door, but your brows furrowed in confusion when you saw the open straight jacket he was wearing, as well as the scarecrow mask in his hand. 

“Hurry, we don’t have much time.” He said, holding his free hand out for you to take. You grabbed it and he started briskly walking down the halls to his office, practically pulling you along behind him. 

“What’s going on? Why are you wearing that?” 

“I’ll explain later, please just trust me right now.” Another loud sound came from outside and he stiffened, then sped up significantly. When you walked through the doors he went straight to his desk and grabbed a gas mask, then tossed it to you as he put on his scarecrow mask. You stared at him in confusion as he walked toward you. 

“Put it on.” His tone was stern but it wasn’t out of anger it was out of fear. You obeyed and as soon as the mask was on, he was grabbing you and pulling you into the hallway toward the front door. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, voice muffled by the mask. He opened the door and you were met with the sight of pure chaos. People were attacking each other in the street, police horses were running wild, their riders nowhere to be found. He led you over to a horse and lifted himself onto it, then tried to help you on before you stopped him. You could barely get a word out before he was interrupting you. 

“Just get on.” You nervously eyed the wriggling horse before sighing and lifting yourself onto it with his help. You sat behind him, not sure what to do, but when the horse bucked up and started running, you let out a startled scream and quickly wrapped your arms around his torso. 

“Where are we going?” You had to yell over the screaming people you were passing and honestly for a moment you weren’t sure he even heard you. 

“Somewhere safer than this.” You passed inmates, police officers, and civilians alike, all of them yelling and either running or attacking. When you saw something flying in your direction, you thought you had truly lost it, but he turned down a street to avoid it before you could get a good look at it. 

As he continued down the panic filled streets, there were less and less people and you saw water up ahead. He stopped in front of a warehouse near the docks and jumped off before helping you down. 

“What the hell was that thing?” You asked as he led you inside. 

“Gotham’s self-appointed protector, a deluded soul in a costume.” He said, voice dripping with loathing and contempt. The darkness of the room caught your attention, shifting your focus away from the questions you initially wanted to ask about his response. 

“What is this place?” 

“When the Bat started sniffing around, I moved some of my belongings here.” He closed and locked the door, then walked over to a wall to turn on the dim lights. “It should be safe to take off the mask now. If it’s not, I prepared an antidote, just to be safe.” You tentatively removed the gas mask after he removed his own. 

“That was all your toxin?” You asked, shocked. 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“It was not my plan.” He defended. You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest, gaze drifting down to the straight jacket.

“Why are you wearing that?” 

“I have the Bat to thank for this.” He said bitterly. You stared at him, trying to psych yourself up to ask what you really wanted to know. 

“Why did you come back for me? Why didn’t you just escape?” When he turned around and started walking to a desk in the center of the room, you thought he was just going to ignore you. 

“I’ve worked too hard on you. It’d be a pity to let that go to waste over something as simple as not stopping by your room.” He said simply, making your brows furrow. You followed after him and when he turned back to face you, he read your expression easily. “First you complain about being there and now you complain about me taking you somewhere else.” Despite his annoyance, there was a small smile on his lips. 

“I’m not complaining, I'm just confused.” 

“You said you’d help me. Now more than ever I need assistance. Have the few minutes of freedom changed your mind already?” He almost seemed… hurt. 

“That’s not-“ You let out a heavy sigh in frustration. “Why can’t you be honest with me?” 

“I am,”

“You’re not. You really expect me to believe that you took me just because you need help? When you could’ve gotten any lowlife to do it instead?” 

“Yes.” He said simply. You clenched your jaw and stared at him, then let out a dry chuckle. 

“Fine. What do you need help with?” You waited in agonizing silence as he studied you. 

“Why are you so bothered by this?” That made you scoff. 

“Are you serious?” You asked and when he didn’t respond, you continued. “I’ve given you everything— everything that wasn’t taken from me— and in return, all you do is treat me like one of your experiments.” You watched his jaw tick as it clenched, but you couldn’t stop, not now that you’ve started. “You want my help, you want me to eat with you, you give me a fucking sketch pad, but you come back for me just because it would be a pity to let your work go to waste?” You could feel tears welling in your eyes as you said it out loud. 

“Why can’t you give me something— anything, to prove that I’m not just an experiment to you.” You said quietly. He swallowed thickly and looked away from you. Just say it, you begged silently. Please just say it.

“What do you want me to say? You want me to tell you that I like being around you? That I couldn’t harm you again, no matter how hard I tried? That the thought of leaving you in that place, without me there to protect you, is enough to make me risk my life?” When he finished, his expression was something you’ve never seen on him before. 

“If it’s true.” You said quietly, holding your breath. 

“Even if it is, you expect too much of me. I am not able to give you what you truly want.” 

“I just want you.” You took a step toward him, but froze when he took one back. 

“No. You want someone who can provide you with more than just books or art supplies and simple kindness. You want someone who can make you feel like more than an experiment and I am not able to give that to you.” Even though you understood that you had nothing to do with his attachment issues, your chest still ached knowing that you’re not enough for him to want to try. 

“I know that your ways of expressing affection are unconventional, but it’s enough for me to just know. You don’t have to say it.” 

“I may not be a good person, but I am not selfish enough to keep you from finding what you truly desire under the basis of false affection. No matter how much I wish to keep you by my side.”  

“What I desire is to be by your side!” You said, exacerbated. “I don’t need emotional confessions or labels. I can feel it in the way you touch me, the way you speak to me, the things you do for me.” He was silent for a long time and you forced yourself to maintain eye contact, even as your eyes were filling with tears once again. 

“That is not how you really feel and as the one who’s emotions haven’t been manipulated, it would be wrong of me to continue taking advantage of you in your current state,”

“You made me like this!” You yelled, feeling a tear escape your waterline. When you continued, you tried to lower your voice to a normal level. “You made me feel like this… Please don’t pretend like all of this is just in my head.” When he remained silent, you whimpered out one last, “Please.” 

“Eventually you’ll realize that I’m right- that all of this was just a coping mechanism.” You let out an irritated sigh, getting over this back and forth very quickly. 

“Tell me.” You said, significantly harsher than before. 

“What?”

“Tell me to my face that I’m nothing more than an experiment. Tell me and I’ll drop it.” He clenched his jaw and let out a heavy breath through his nose, not able to maintain eye contact. The longer he remained silent, the harder it was to hold in the tears. “Please.” You whispered, making him look at you again. 

“Even if you aren’t, the confession would be inadmissible,” 

“It wouldn’t!” You yelled and he let out another heavy sigh. 

“I will only disappoint you, but to satiate your masochistic tendencies…” He paused with a sigh and you held your breath. “You are more than an experiment.” 

Part 8

[sagesolsticewrites]

Better Kind of Best Friend

Anthony, your friend-with-benefits, stops by for an impromptu visit after an interview.

a/n: Alexa, play Style (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift 😏 And once again hugest of shoutouts to my darling Winnie for another fantastic playlist!!

Warnings: mature content (oral (f receiving), PinV penetration, Anto being a tease), swearing

Word count: 2.1k

Masterlist

“Stupid—” You grumble, shoving the closet door closed. 

You had just finished your fight with the broom, who simply refused to fit in the tiny storage closet where you kept all of your cleaning supplies, when your doorbell rang.

Sending up a silent thanks that whoever decided to call on you had done so after you had finished your fairly productive cleaning day, you moved to answer it.

And you couldn’t stop your jaw dropping when you saw who was behind it.

“Anto?”

“Hey,” he breathes, scanning you up and down, and it’s at that moment you realize just how little you’re wearing, having opted for a simple tank and your comfiest pair of shorts.

You step aside to let him in, taking in his appearance as he does so.

Messy hair, but messy in a way that lets you know it was styled that way. A simple, well-fitting white t-shirt, and what you had to admit were the best-looking jeans you’d ever seen in your life. 

As he turns to you, you note his face looks smoother, almost matte— makeup.

“I— did you just come from an interview or something?”

“Yeah,” he says distractedly, “It finished, and I realized how close I was to your place, and I just… I wanted to see you.”

You both know he means something other than “see”, there.

“Is it, uh…” He glances around, seemingly realizing that he’s dropped in on you with zero warning, “not a good time?”

You shake your head.

“No, it’s fine.”

It could be 3am on a Wednesday, and you’d still be happy to see him.

“You want a coffee— or, sorry, tea?” You ask, nodding towards your now-spotless kitchen.

A minute later, he’s leaning against your counter as you rummage through the cabinets, though you know the mugs will likely be left to go cold sooner or later.

As you go through the motions of tea preparation, your mind drifts back to how this… arrangement started.

You had met on set several years back, and there was an instant connection between you two. Neither of you were looking for a relationship at that time, but what was supposed to be a one night stand turned into two. Then three. And now when he was in town every so often, he’d stop by. No matter how many times you swore to yourself that this is the last time… when he showed up with those damn puppy eyes practically begging to take you to bed, you couldn’t find it within yourself to say no. Even if it hurt every time he left again, because somewhere along the way you’d started wanting to be more than friends. And you’d kept that wish tucked close to your heart, because it had been a while since the last time he stopped by, and doing so right after an interview? You were sure he just wanted to… destress after a long day.

You hand him his mug, moving to lean against the kitchen island across from him.

After several minutes of silence, you speak, hyperaware of his gaze pinning you in place.

“So how’d the interview go?”

“I don’t think I wanna talk about the interview right now,” he replies in a low voice, and the way he scans you up and down has you squeezing your thighs together as if your life depends on it.

You try to think of something, anything to say in response, but your mind goes blank as he moves towards you — mug abandoned like you knew it would be — pinning you against the counter as his hands trail up your sides.

Your body goes loose and pliant under his touch, your head falling to the side to expose your neck as he noses at your jawline.

“Been too fucking long,” he breathes against your skin, and you barely have time to sigh his name before his lips are on your neck.

You arch into him as he scatters kisses all along your skin, making liberal use of his teeth to leave deep purple marks all over your neck. Your hand finds its way into his hair, fisting his curls as his mouth trails along your collarbone.

“Wanna taste you,” he murmurs against your skin, your spine tingling at the heat of his tone and the utterly molten look in his eyes as he looks up to meet your gaze, “Can I? Please?”

You nod furiously, your “yes” escaping as a soft moan.

He grips your hips firmly, lifting you onto the counter with an effortlessness that has heat pooling between your thighs — an effect heightened by the way his mouth remains on your skin as he steps between your legs and begins fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

You lift your arms to allow him to peel it off of you, your nipples pebbling in the cool air of the kitchen.

Anto swears softly as he drinks you in, eyes darkening, and you draw your bottom lip between your teeth as you wait for him to do something.

His mouth returns with a vengeance to attack your collarbone, quickly moving south to skim along the tops of your breasts.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs in a tone that has you letting out a moan even before his mouth moves to capture your nipple, the hand that isn’t still firmly attached to your hip moving up to toy with your other breast.

You whine his name as his tongue swirls expertly around you, his hand quickly replacing his mouth as he pulls away to repeat the action where his hand just was.

His ministrations soon have you grinding against nothing, hips bucking desperately against the air, and you can feel the teasing bastard chuckle against your skin as he mouths his way down your stomach.

“Impatient, are we?” He hums, something sparking in his eyes at the yelp that escapes you when he digs his teeth teasingly into the soft flesh just above the waistband of your shorts.

“You said yourself it’s been too fucking long,” you pant, sighing out a “finally” and lifting your hips as he makes quick work of removal your shorts and panties.

Your relief is soon replaced once again by impatience as he kneels between your legs, fingertips lightly dragging through your slick folds, and then putting his mouth…

On your fucking thigh, nibbling and sucking his way almost to your core before repeating the motions on your other thigh.

“Anto, you fucking…”

You can’t even finish your complaint, words escaping you as you whine at the feeling of his teeth grazing against your skin.

“What was that?” He hums, a teasing glint in his eyes as he looks up to meet your gaze, “Something you wanna say?”

“Quit being a teas— oh my god.”

Your plea is cut off with a cry as his mouth finally reaches your core, licking deep into your folds.

He lets out a groan, the vibrations of which send delicious shivers throughout your body as he drags his tongue through your core. 

You moan, long and loud as your hand finds its way into his messy waves, pulling him closer. One of his hands remains on your thigh, keeping your legs spread, while the other moves upwards, his thumb expertly circling your clit.

“Fuck, Anto,” you whine, your head falling back as his mouth and fingers work overtime on your core, tightening the growing tension just below your belly.

He hums in satisfaction against you, recognizing the signs of you reaching your peak, and it takes no time at all for him to guide you through your climax as you release with a cry of his name.

Legs shaking, your eyes flutter open in time to see him mouthing his way back up your body, lips dragging deliciously against your skin.

He sucks at the tender skin of your neck, and you can feel him grinning against you at your shaky exhale.

“Oh Y/N, you didn’t think I’d forgotten what you liked, did you?”

Fucking tease.

“Oh Anto, you're not done already, are you?” You manage to quip back, squeezing his hips between your thighs.

“Definitely not,” he says lowly, pulling away to shuck off his shirt as your hands move to fumble with his belt.

You lean forward to drag your mouth along his neck, lips gliding up the hollow of his throat and along his jawline as he retrieves something from his pocket before his remaining clothes join the pile on your kitchen floor.

A huff of a laugh escapes you as you see the familiar foil packet in his hand.

“You came prepared, huh?”

“Don’t I always?” He says, mouth twitching up into the smallest of smiles.

You expertly tear it open and roll the latex onto him, unable to hide your smirk at the way his breath hitches when you drag your fingers teasingly back up his shaft.

He swears under his breath at your touch before planting his hands on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. He leans in, his breath hot on your skin as he lines himself up at your entrance with a whisper of “I’m gonna fuck you now, yeah?”

You just barely bite back a ragged moan, settling for a shaky “yes, please” as he slowly presses into you.

“Look at you, getting your manners back as soon as I’m inside you,” he teases once he’s fully entered you, hips pressed flush to yours, “You missed me that badly?”

I did, I really did, is what you long to say, but you can’t bring yourself to say the words that could ruin the delicate balance of your relationship, so you settle for stammering: “Shut up and fuck me already.”

A wicked grin crosses his face, and he slowly pulls out and thrusts back into you, your breath hitching as his hips snap into yours repeatedly.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he pants against you.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Your only response is a desperate whine, your fingers tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck.

He mumbles praise against your skin, the tension within you building with every thrust.

Your ankles lock behind his back, pulling him closer as he drives deeper into you, your nails grazing down his back as you let out a loud moan.

“Anto— Anto, fuck, ‘m gonna—”

“Oh, yes,” he growls into your ear, continuing the punishingly fast pace, “C’mon, Y/N, come for me—”

His thumb moving to circle your clit as he continues to pound into you is the thing that sends you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

With a muffled groan, Anto quickly follows suit, spilling into the condom after two more erratic thrusts before slumping against you, utterly spent.

He presses sloppy kisses up your neck as the two of you attempt to catch your breath, swearing softly as he pulls out of you and huffing out a laugh as you whine at the sudden emptiness.

“You alright?” He asks softly once you’ve both got your breath back, wriggling back into his boxers and t-shirt after he’s discarded the condom.

You nod, slipping back into your tank and shorts.

“Wanna hang out for a bit? I’m on a bit of a Bake-Off binge right now…”

Your heart soars at the way his eyes light up at the chance to watch something mindless after a day of answering endless questions about his career— he loves it, you know he does, but you also know the toll it takes.

“I’d love that,” he grins, making quick work of wriggling back into his jeans and following you to the living room.

You find yourself curled up next to him, his arm around your shoulders as you both point out the clear mistakes each contestant is making (mistakes that you both would definitely make, but that’s not important right now).

— — —

You groan, eyes fluttering open against the bright sunlight streaming through your windows, a blanket that you didn’t remember pulling over you falling to the floor as you sit up. Blearily, you glance around, feeling like something’s missing…

Your heart sinks the tiniest bit as you realize he must have left at some point in the middle of the night.

It would’ve been awkward if he stayed, you scold yourself, it’s better this way.

That logic doesn’t stop a smile growing on your face as you notice a thermos of tea on the coffee table, next to a scrap of paper with Anto’s signature scrawl.

Y/N,

Thanks for letting me barge in yesterday. Sorry I couldn’t stay, but I promise I’ll drop by again soon. Thanks for the tea and… everything else ;)

Yours,

Anto

You take a sip of the tea— just the way you liked it, of course— relishing the ache between your legs. If this was all you could have of him for now, well… 

You’d take it, happily.