#dob smuts

[ardenchambres]

Opening the floodgates that are oneshot fic requests. Because I have found myself absolutely awful at writing once again, give me a prompt and a fandom/characters to use! Stuff like “Astrid whump w/ Hiccup caretaker when she had scourge of Odin” or something like that. Fandoms in tags… somewhere

[strangerstilinski]

is there a single soul on here that is interested in a colin writing?? because after rewatching the awful fucking masterpiece that is the sex scene in not okay… i have so many feelings. so many emotions. so many ideas.

[mickyschumacher]

can i request something for carlos sainz x leclerc!reader on vacation?there’s such a soft spot in me for summer vacation carlos like in a beach setting or on a yacht. it can be soft or smutty it doesn’t matter i just love summery carlos. thank you!!!

[SECRETS IN SANTORINI!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: while the leclercs maybe spending their summer vacation at home, you opted for a secret vacation in santorini with your secret boyfriend, carlos sainz. or in which you are secretly dating your brother's teammate.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), unprotected sex (if you're gonna slip, slop, slap, you must wrap your willy!), reader dob in 1999, dating in secret trope!, sainz & leclerc = google translated spanish & french ._., ig the reader has a shaved downstairs?, p in v, teasing, oral sex, lovey dovey smut?, poor humour, breastplay, fingering, cumming inside, bit of overstimulation for the reader, scandal and swift references, love confessions.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!carlos sainz x younger leclerc!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: firm agree on the summery carlos! is it really my writing if i don't get santorini involved? anyways, hope this was up to your standards! sorry for the long wait! ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Dating your brother's teammate was never on your bucket list. Hell, you tried to stay away from Formula 1. Well, as much as Leclerc could anyways.

People older than you weren't really your type. You opted for people near your age. That way there wasn't an awkward generation gap and there was no one that reminded you of your older brothers. Carlos was only five years older than you but the generational gap was most certainly there.

Men your age were... well, boys.

Men Carlos' age were men but also men.

You had seen Carlos at races before. And he was an attractive man, obviously. But that was that. You passed each other down the paddock, barely giving each other a glance. And not to mention the obvious, you were far too young for him at the time.

But then Ferrari's first car launch after signing Carlos had happened.

You had seen Carlos more in the few hours the event lasted than the past few years. You didn't know what it was. Whether you were unintentionally stalking him or vice versa. What you did know, however, he was definitely eyeing you.

By the time Charles had introduced you, Arthur, Lorenzo, and your mother, Carlos was trying to keep his interest at bay, pretending to be as family-friendly as possible.

Carlos ended up catching you as you came out of the bathroom, smoothly asking for your number. And as much as you wanted to give it to him, you weren't going to be easy. You were a Leclerc for crying out loud.

If Carlos wanted you, he would have to earn you.

And boy did he try.

You had heard from several people and the Internet that Carlos was a hardcore romantic. You never thought about it up until he started pulling out all the stops.

He was attentive as hell, remembering your favourite drinks, slipping you a new book to read as he talked to Charles, purposely linking his pinky with yours as discreetly as he could just so he could see you flush in front of him, sending you clothes for you to wear to his races to your apartment...

Carlos was menace.

But somewhere along the line, he became your menace.

You and Carlos were the epitome of the saying 'Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours'.

Keeping it secret... sure it was frustrating at times. The both of you had person after person trying to get with you because, well, you were a Leclerc and he was Carlos Sainz. Carlos had managed to draw a line by telling people he had a girlfriend but he didn't want to reveal her.

Yeah... it didn't settle well with the grid, in particular the three gossipers of the grid: Pierre, Lando, and your brother.

But after all the little bumps in the road, it was smooth sailing.

Most of the time you spent time together was alone, just the two of you. That way, there was no risk of being caught and you could revel in each other.

Of course, it wasn't that easy. Nothing was easy with you and Carlos, especially given that you couldn't keep your hands off of one another. Carlos a slight more than you because you had the decency and fear of embarrassment of getting caught by anyone. Carlos, on the other hand, was as indecent as they come. Hands always looking for an excuse to touch you, eyes travelling to find you first in any room, sending dirty texts when you sat across him... like you said, he was a menace.

To make things easier for yourself, for this summer break, you and Carlos had picked trusty Santorini as a romantic getaway, taking his dog Piñon as a welcomed third wheeler. Filled with so many tourists that you and Carlos would look like any regular couple there.

"Now this is a summer break," You breathed out, walking on to the yacht you had rented out for your stay in Greece. The air was clean and crisp, the sun was already beating down on you despite it being nine in the morning, and the translucent blue waters brought you a sense of familiarity that Monaco held.

"Don't you agree, Piñon?" You cooed to the soft ball of white curled up into your arms. A small bark of agreement came from the dog, tail wagging in happiness.

Carlos chuckled behind you, putting down your bags on the deck, under the shade. His thick arms enveloped your waist, bringing you closer to him. Nestling his chin into your shoulder, he said, "That's good, hermosa (beautiful). Now try saying it in Spanish."

You made a face at his teasing tone. Pulling yourself out of his grasp, you turned towards him. "Ahora son unas vacaciones de verano. ¿No estás de acuerdo, mi querido Carlos?" You recreated the same coaxing tone you had given Piñon to your lover, pinching his cheek with the energy of an overly endearing mother. Now this is a summer break. Don't you agree, my dear Carlos?

Carlos gave you a pointed look. You were teasing him. You knew he liked when you spoke Spanish because it was cute to see you fumble over the words but it also meant a lot to him that you were trying.

You rolled your eyes at his reaction and settled Piñon on the deck after making sure it wasn't too hot for those small paws of his. You watched him trot around the yacht, carefully examining his surrounding to test his boundaries.

Satisfied that Piñon was safe, you turned back to Carlos. "Brunch?"

"Brunch..." Carlos trailed off, hand reaching out to your face. The soft pad of his thumb graze your lips, gently pulling on your bottom lip to watch it bounce back. "...or brunch?" He asked, voice heavy with a clear need.

Your body thrived with an eagerness to respond to his touch. Goosebumps were the paint to the canvas of your skin, littering each part of you even though you were impossibly warm in the sun. You really wanted brunch. But your stomach wanted brunch. Instead, you simply nodded to him, agreeing with the answer he had never said. "You're right. Food is very important."

Carlos groaned at your response. "Hermosa," He sighed out, bringing his arms around your waist to pull you close yet again. "I want you," He murmured against your skin, nose brushing against your cheek and hot breath wandering down your neck.

Carlos could feel you smile at his words. "And you have me... for two whole weeks," You reminded him, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek.

Carlos curled his lip in annoyance at your reminder while he revelled in your touch. "I could have you for four," He also reminded you.

You sighed. You hadn't seen him in three weeks because life had it's mysterious ways of making the both of you busy. You wanted nothing more than a month with Carlos. But it was far too suspicious.

You had barely convinced your mother and your brothers that you were going to Santorini for a 'self-exploration' trip. Charles had immediately offered to turn it into a family trip but you managed to settle him down by saying you would spend the last two weeks with them. Alexandra had been a sweetheart in the matter as well. She was the only one, as well as Kika and Lily, that had known about you and Carlos, claiming they sensed it from 'a mile away'.

What they truly meant was that Carlos wouldn't stop eye-fucking you from a far.

"It's okay," You mumbled woefully, patting his chest softly, "I'll be with you in spirit while you reign Madrid."

Carlos held in his eye roll at your theatrics, you had a flair for them. "I wish you would reign Madrid with me instead. I want you to meet the family, let me finally teach you golf, go to the holiday house with me, hmm?" He implored, chocolate brown flickering to search yours.

The pain behind your eyes made him feel frustrated. He knew how much you wanted to do that because you wanted the same thing with your family. "How 'bout I call Charles, hmm? I'm sure he'll understand."

The thought of Charles finding out from anyone but you made you shudder. Would he understand? What was so understandable about hiding the fact you were dating his teammate for over a year, especially over a call?

Arthur, amongst Charles and Lorenzo, would probably be the most hurt. You and him told each other everything. You guys were the closest in age, similar to how Lorenzo and Charles were. Hell, you even helped him confess and get with Carla. And he was waiting to do the same for you, with some he trusted and knew.

And Lorenzo? It was really for the best if he didn't know from Carlos. He had initially told you not to get too close to any of the drivers because he was worried for you and well, the reputation of F1 drivers and dating wasn't too great. But you were quite sure that anything you and Carlos did had crossed the line of 'too close'. '

"Carlos, mi amor, I love you, but I think the idea of brunch, not brunch, is more understanding."

━━━━━━━━━━━

After your brunch, you had spent some time reading to Carlos inside the yacht, not wanting to get into the water just after you had eaten nor wanting to go out when the sunshine was at it's peak.

It was serene.

The windows were open, letting a cool breeze come and help reduce the heat and you were both sprawled on the soft mattresses that served as sofas on the floor of the yacht. The calmness and peace you had desired amongst the chaos life and F1 brought.

You were half sure that Carlos was close to falling asleep in your lap, but not by your retelling of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, after Carlos refused to see Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen for the sixth time this year, but by the way your combed your hand through his hair as you read. (Although you were still going to be persistent because the concept of seeing those two on screen in Santorini out of all places was a need, not a want).

"Carlos, mon beau (my handsome), you're going to fall asleep. Let's go swimming," You told him, placing your bookmark in between the pages and closing the book.

Carlos groaned, looking up at you. He held your hand close to his chest. "No, it's way too hot. Don't you see the water? It looks like lava."

You narrowed your eyes. "That precisely why we should go swimming. We can't just sit here and mope around. We're in Santorini... we need to stand up and move around."

Carlos lifted his head from your lap, sitting straight so he faced you. You let out a quick yelp when he pulled you forward, placing you onto his lap, legs straddling him. "I can think about fifty ways to stand up and move around... in fifty different positions."

You could feel your thighs involuntarily clench around him. You know he felt it to. You gasped at his words and shook your head. "You are a heathen, Carlos Sainz. A barbarian... a hooligan, a sexually-driven simpleton must I continue?"

"Well, I recall you loving this heathen, infidel, barbarian, and hooligan," Carlos shrugged, warm hands inching up the white sundress you had worn this morning. The action sent a shudder down your spine.

"Carlos," You mumbled, already falling into a state where you were losing the words to speak your thoughts as Carlos kneaded the flesh of your thighs with his rough hands.

"Yes?" Those puppy brown eyes flickered to your eyes while he brought his mouth to your thighs, opting to graze your heated skin with the teeth. "Tell me what you want, hermosa. And I'll give it to you."

You faltered at his words. His gaze was heavy with a dark blaze that sent your stomach churning. You allowed yourself to fully straddle Carlos' lap, teeth sinking into your bottom lip when you felt Carlos' clothed bulge press into your core.

Carlos struggled to prevent a strained hiss escape his gritted teeth, his grip on your thighs tightening, your flesh escaping the confines of his hands. Fuck, were your thighs so enticing to Carlos. He wanted to bite them and bruise them so even weeks later, they were covered in the reminiscents of him.

"What do you want, baby? Please tell me," Carlos begged, eyes desperately searching your own for any sign or indication of what you wanted.

You felt your core clench at the plea falling from Carlos' plump lips. You hadn't even really done anything but he was ready to serve you. Everything was foggy. You couldn't think straight. "I want... I want you, Carlos. Fuck, anything, everything... I–make love to me. Show me how much you love me."

His roaming hands came to a halt. "Mierda (shit)," Carlos cursed, bringing his tongue to swipe his bottom lip.

He could do that. He would love you so much that the entirety of Santorini would know and no one would even question your relationship with him.

Carlos brought his hands to your back, feeling the numerous strings of your dress against the pads of his fingers. One hand worked to undo the very knots he had done this morning while the other creeped up the back of your neck, pulling your head closer to his.

He brought his lips to yours, pressing them with an indescribable urgency. Your hands shot out to his chest, fisting the soft material of the polo you had chosen for him into a small bundle.

You gasped into the kiss, feeling a sudden breeze of cold air as the strings of your dress fell flat against your skin. Carlos' hands wandered down the surface of your back, coming to a stop at your waist.

The urge to get even closer to you coursed through Carlos' veins, pulling you flush against him. A moan fell from his swollen lips as you parted to fill the craving of some oxygen. Your pussy was pressed tight against his cock and your breasts were soft, pushed against his chest.

Carlos ventured to move his lips down the side of your jaw, edging towards your barren neck, aching to decorate you with aging and unique shades of purple and blue.

You let out a series of sinful whimpers upon the feeling of your skin being sucked at, feeding directly into his constrained cock. "Carlos..." You moaned out, eyes shut in pure pleasure, "They'll know. The–They'll ask q-questions."

"I know." You shivered as you feel him grin against your skin.

You watched him through your half-lidded eyes, moving up from your neck to look at you with his blistering gaze. With one simple movement, he took off his shirt, revealing his taut golden skin. Christ.

You sat still breathlessly on his lap as Carlos peeled off your dress, pulling your arms through the white material. The cool breeze trickled over your bare breasts, nipples hardening almost instantly.

Carlos let a warm hand rest over your rib, lifting you gently to remove your dress fully. He sighed, laying you down on the mattress. The tips of his fingers travelled from your neck and down the valley of your breasts, the hairs of your body standing straight at his touch.

"You know what it is a tragedy, hermosa?" Carlos queried, watching you quiver underneath him, chest heavily rising up and down.

He smiled at your asking through your eyes because the words just couldn't come out of your throat. "You will never see yourself the way I see you. Eres una sirena... obra de Dios. If He didn't put you on this Earth that would've been his biggest sin." You are a siren… God's work.

If your throat wasn't tied up before, it surely was now. You looked at him with a soft gaze, watching him come near you to press his lips on your own. You whimpered, feeling his hands travel towards your breasts, fondling your mounds with a cautious roughness that sent your stomach tingling.

You frowned at the loss of his lips but the complaint subsided upon the feel of his hot tongue swirling around your pebbled nipple. He paid attention to every flick and every crevice, keeping his deep eyes trained on you. He smiled at your hiss as he purposely grazed his teeth against your nipple.

Carlos removed his lips from your nipple, moving his head back to hover over your pussy. Still keeping his eyes on you, you watched in silence as the hot saliva fell from his lips, bubbly strings landing directly onto your glistening folds. Fucking hell.

"Eyes on me, baby," He told you, looking at your clenched eyes.

Your eyes shot open as Carlos took one long stripe of your folds, your hips bucking at the sudden sensation. Lingering a second too long on your clit, his tongue continued to work up towards your stomach and the valley of your breasts, returning his attention to your other nipple.

Your mouth fell open, feeling his fingers rub your wet folds, spreading his saliva around your pussy. While his tongue worked your nipple, he thrusted a thick finger into your walls. With your eyes rolling back, you attempted to fist the thick material of the mattress but to no avail.

"Fuckk, Carlos," You whimpered, writhing at his touch.

"Finally found your words, hmm?" Carlos teased, adding another finger into his torturous slow pace. His eyes were glued to watching your hips out of his periphery, snapping up to try and ride his fingers. As laboured breaths fell from your lips, he pushed his digits even further, aiming to reach a specific spot.

Smoothly, Carlos grabbed a nearby pillow, putting it under your lower back to bring you some comfort and a whole new level of pleasure. He stared at your face intently: your mouth had fallen wide open with a ghost whisper of his name flowing into the air, sweat glistened over your flushed face, pooling near the edges of your hair and neck, and your lips were swollen with the prettiest shade of red he had ever seen.

"Carlos," You managed to get out with your brain practically turning into jelly. "Carlos, please, I don't want to cum like this. I need your cock, please."

Carlos' cock throbbed at your pleas. "Your wish is my command, princesa."

Hearing your whines upon the loss of his fingers, Carlos took off his blue shorts faster than he had ever done in his life.

Even though you had been with Carlos sexually for a while, your cheeks still flamed when you saw his cock. Not out of embarrassment or unadulterated innocence. No. It was outright heat that was getting to you.

Every time you saw his cock, it was a violent shade of red, throbbing and aching, leaving Carlos begging to be touched by you.

You watched as Carlos leaned forward, hovering over you. It was beyond you how exactly pretty Carlos was. You hadn't realised until he started courting you. You had no idea how you were supposed to live without seeing his thicket of brown locks, his freckles that could only be depicted if you were close to him otherwise they blended with his prickly stubble, the smug smile he constantly wore to hide himself, and especially his big brown eyes that made you bend to his command.

"Carlos?" You softly called out.

Carlos' ears perked up at your gentle tone. He smiled down at you with raised brows. His hands continued to travel your body, retracing every curve and fold as he had committed to his memory. "Sí, mi hermosa?"

You ran a hand through his hair before caressing his cheek. God, he was your beautiful boy. "Je t'aime plus que tu ne peux l'imaginer." I love you more than you can imagine.

You knew he didn't speak French despite spending this many years with Charles but it often comes from you naturally when you were too caught up in your feelings.

"Je ne pense pas que ce soit le cas. You don't know how my every feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can't breathe without you. Every race, I hope you're there waiting for me because you're pretending to wait for Charles. Hermosa, I exist for you. No one else." I don't think you do.

Your eyes widened, fresh tears lining your waterline. "You understood–you learned French?" You whispered, voice barely audible.

Carlos grinned. "I'm quite sure I said a lot of after that but yes, I did learn French for you... surprise!"

You suppressed the urge to push him off of you and gave him a long kiss. Pulling back, you laughed gently. "You're an idiot... making me cry during sex. And not even in the good way!" You feigned your complaint.

"Well, we still have tonight and thirteen more days. Today I'm just showing how much I love you," He whispered above your lips, hips lining up with yours.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling Carlos' cock brush past your folds. You both moaned in unison as he pushed his cock into your pussy. Your walls wrapped around his cock tightly, gripping him like a vice.

Carlos cursed several profanities under his breath, head lolling back while pleasure coursed through his body. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you up to sit on his lap. His cock ached at the high-pitched mewl that fell from your swollen lips.

His hands fell to your hips, holding you tightly, slowly shifting you up and down his length, burying his cock in you.

You closed your eyes, letting your forehead rest on Carlos'. You can feel him staring at you, taking all of you in: every hue of your flushed state, your eyelashes riddled with tears and sweat, the heavenly and sinful sounds from your lips, and your greased hair.

"You are breathtaking," Carlos whispered against you.

You smiled, opening your eyes to meet his and rolling your hips slowly in response. "You make me feel so good," You praised.

A rough moan was elicited from Carlos, throat tight and choked up from your words and actions. He could barely function seeing your bare pussy take his cock so well, let alone how the tip of his cock throbbed when he lifted you up. His own eyes were beginning to shut as he revelled in the ecstasy you brought hip.

Fuck, you were so wet. You looked down at your thighs, seeing the obscene sheen of your arousal coat spread to Carlos' thighs. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, hips snapping to create a rhythm.

"Carlos, I, fuck," You blabbered in complete disarray. You were beginning to seem the edges of a familiar white light.

Although Carlos appreciated the sign, he could tell by the way you were clenched so tightly around his cock, getting his cock to pulsate every few seconds, that you were going to come.

He moved his hands between your legs, watching you sink over his cock one more time before he obstructed the view by using his thumb to rub your clit in circles.

"Mierda," Carlos cussed, feeling you grip his cock even further if it was possible. "Cum for me, mi amor."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You repeated the expletive as if it were a mantra, hips bucking as white clouded your vision. You let out a loud moan, body shaking as waves of your climax hit you one after the other.

Not a second later, Carlos was cumming too. His hips rutted against yours in almost an unrecognisable desperation, the peak of his ecstasy right within his grasp. His cock pulsed while his hips came to a falter, stuttering as ropes of his white cum spilled into you, warming your walls.

"F-Fuck," Carlos groaned, feeling your pussy clamp around him, trying to take every last drop of his cum.

You feel Carlos slump forward into you, exhausted. Gently, you lifted yourself off of his cock, wincing at your sensitivity. You fell straight onto the mattress, panting heavily.

"Shit!" You yelped as Carlos pushed some of his leaking come back into and circle your clit. You shook at the mini aftermath of your orgasm before calming back down.

"Satisfied?" You nudged Carlos playfully, knowing damn well Carlos liked to go the extra mile when it came to you.

"Very," Carlos commented, reaching his arms out to bring you closer to him.

You sighed, resting your head on his chest. The exhaustion was very quickly seeping into the both of you. Carlos' heartbeat was beginning to work as a lullaby and Carlos had found your warmth far more comforting than any mattress or duvet.

"Hermosa," He called, making you hum for you had no energy to speak. "We need to tell them."

You found yourself trying to open your eyes. When had they closed? You turned to face him, chin resting on his heated torso. You pressed a brief kiss and said, "I know. Let's tell them in a few days. So they have at least a week to yell at me."

Carlos frowned at your words. "I'll be right there with you. You know that right? I'm not letting you do this alone."

You smiled after letting out a small yawn. "I know, I know. I'm grateful. Thank you, mi amor."

Carlos returned the gesture, kissing your forehead gently. He rubbed your shoulders, feeling the dark abyss of slumber slowly call to him. "Anything for you, hermosa."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[star--stilinski]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ masterlist ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

works for more mature audiences will be marked with an 18+, but i was on here at like 11 reading smut so i really can't do much more about it. just... guys if you're young just get off tumblr.

✩

stiles stilinski-

"is that because of me?" - 18+ stiles cannot stop getting turned on from the randomest things you do. so when you call it out, things in your friendship take a turn.

cool off - 18+ on a beach trip, your boyfriend is receiving some female attention that you're not fond of. so, you remind him of who he belongs to.

death of you - 18+ stiles wants to try a new meal and finds it to be his new favorite dish. (aka, munch stiles).

wow, you're so fucked - 18+ stiles just won a lacrosse game he actually contributed in!! wait- wait- are you- are you horny right now?!

"oh yeah?" you and stiles are bickering. and he's hot. why does he have to be so hot?!

so whipped stiles is insecure about his buzzcut, and you alleviate his worries.

meet the parents when you officially meet your boyfriend stiles' father, stiles cannot keep his hands to himself. how distracting!

blurbs & rambles-

stiles, and his neighbor since he was four.

stiles is a whirlwind of a relationship!!

stiles is accidentally hot

stiles accidentally teasing reader - 18+

stiles and pet names

thomas (tmr)-

coming soon! feel free to request for him or other DOB characters ;)

[sundrop-writes]

Trouble Is...

Thomas (The Maze Runner) x Fem!Reader

All that I know is I just can’t say ‘no’ to you,

Funny how things never change.

All that I wanted was just to get over you.

Trouble is - I can’t find a way.

You’re part of me.

Trouble Is - you’re part of me.

Summary:

Now out of The Maze, everyone is enjoying their newfound sense of safety. Everyone except for Thomas.

He can’t enjoy the soft beds or the clean clothes or the food, because he’s too worried about you. You’re quarantined off somewhere else (presumably with other girls), and he hasn't seen you in days.

When he finally sees you, he’s too thankful to question why the two of you are put in a room alone together. Too thankful to question the mysterious smoke that’s pumped into the room. Too thankful to question why the door is locked.

Thomas (TMR) x Fem!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Sex Pollen. Set during The Scorch Trials. 

Word Count: 7,900

The Maze Runner Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warning that any and all TMR fics I write will be based on the movies and not the books, so any lore inaccuracies can be blamed on that; also this is a YA series, but DoB was in his 20s when he played Thomas, so for our purpose, these characters are aged up to at least 19 or 20; often sex pollen comes with a dubcon warning, but I’m not sure that applies here - these characters have a great deal of pre-existing affection for each other (I might even go so far as to say that they are in love), and they would have intensely enthusiastic consent, even without chemical enhancement; the reader does have some mental hesitation when she feels the pollen taking effect, but it’s not because she doesn’t want to have sex with Thomas, it’s because of PTSD from WCKD and feeling suspicious towards them (and when Thomas assures her that he will ‘take care of her’, she enthusiastically consents to having sex); warnings for unethical science because our characters do not know that they are part of a science experiment and have not consented to have these chemicals used on them (but that is just the canon of WCKD); the reader character has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; this fic DOES USE Y/N; this fic uses the beautiful age old trope that the reader character was the only girl in The Maze; mentions of the mental and emotional effects of isolation - the reader has been isolated from everyone else since leaving The Maze and Thomas is the first of her friends that she sees in days; this is mostly just smut with very little plot; because of the canon, both characters have had their memories erased and theoretically might be virgins or might not be virgins (yes, in the book, they were put into the Maze as ‘children’, but as I said, for my purposes, everyone is aged up) - so I am not explicitly stating if this is their first sexual experience or not, but this is their first sexual experience as a couple/first sexual experience with each other; as mentioned before, the main point of this is sex pollen - in the form of a mysterious sci-fi chemical compound that is injected into a locked room by WCKD as a part of a random experiment; scent kink - Thomas loves the way Reader smells (and has since long before being dosed with sex pollen); orgasm from clit stimulation through clothing; oral sex - reader receiving; hair pulling - Thomas receiving; unprotected penis in vagina sex; there is NO breeding kink here (the characters aren’t motivated or turned on by the idea of having a baby); there is creampie kink - Thomas does not pull out, and the characters are turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her; Thomas is very possessive in this fic (but it’s almost unconscious, as a need to keep the reader safe, not in a jealous or romantic way); cockwarming - they fall sleeping while Thomas’s cock is still inside of the reader; the ending is slightly bittersweet (it’s implied that the reader is kidnapped/hurt by WCKD, but not explicitly stated). I believe that’s all for this short fic.

A/N: I am genuinely surprised that it took me this long to write and post a sex pollen fic, because it's absolutely one of my favourite tropes ever to read. WCKD is such a perfect backdrop for a sex pollen fic - shady unethical company that does weird science experiments - it's just too fitting. I have a few more sex pollen fics in my drafts that are yet to be finished, but I can definitely see myself writing a lot more of this trope because it was so much damn fun lmao. I will squeeze it into any fic universe that I possibly can. I love tropes that make things hornier than they should be - sex pollen, fuck or die, hate sex. All of it. Anyway - I hope you enjoy the fic, especially those of you who have been waiting for this fic in particular!!

...

Thomas was going insane. 

At least - that’s what it felt like. Sure, escaping The Maze had been a victory. Being rescued by the military and being taken to a (supposedly) safe place was, for all intents and purposes - a victory. 

But there was one detail that Thomas was hung up on that nobody else seemed to care about. While everybody else seemed content to go about their ‘new’ everyday lives - sleeping in the dorms, eating in the cafeteria, going through the barrage of medical tests without question - you were missing. And apparently, Thomas was the only one who seemed to care. 

Perhaps that was an exaggeration, seeing as the other boys from the Glade had known you longer, and they were likely worried about you silently because you were a dear friend to them. But it certainly felt like Thomas was the only one who was anxiously awaiting your return. 

When Thomas had come out of the Box, terrified, clueless, panicked - you had been the first person to be truly kind to him, rather than laughing at his blundering confusion. Every single time there had been an argument, you had stepped between him and Gally, making yourself known as a calm, motherly force that the other boys listened to - more out of habit than fear. 

You were a kind leader in the Glade that everyone respected, because you had earned their respect. Not because you bullied them into following you or even because you wielded some kind of natural seniority over them like Alby had. You were kind and sweet, and all the boys responded to that. 

Thomas had been surprised to learn that you had been one of the first people ever to come out of the Box. The second ever, according to Alby. You had such a strong, long-standing friendship with Alby, such a close bond with him. When Thomas saw the tears that streaked your face when you thought that Minho and Alby weren’t going to make it back before the doors closed was likely the number one thing that motivated Thomas to go dashing inside. He had wanted to rescue your closest friend for you. Some signal, some blaring siren inside him that screamed that he would do anything for you, that he needed to protect you. 

It was the same thing that caused him to hold you tight when you saw Alby slowly dying from the poison of the Griever’s sting, letting you cry on his shoulder. The same thing that drove him back into The Maze, looking for a way out. A deep longing to escape, to find a better home for you. 

And now, he was going more insane with each passing minute that you weren’t in front of his eyes. He was being driven out of his mind with each moment that your hand wasn’t grasped tightly within his own. Each moment that he couldn’t see you, feel you, hear your voice and know for certain that you were okay - it was slowly driving him mad. 

When the group had first arrived at this facility, this supposedly safe place - you had been ushered away from the rest of the group, viciously torn out of Thomas’s arms. His grasp on your hand the whole time had been bordering on melting his flesh into your own, and he was surprised when you had been the one to relax your hand out of that grip and give him that same soothing voice you did when he got into fights with Gally - telling him that it would be okay, that you would ‘catch up with them’ later. 

Thomas had wanted to kick and scream - he had wanted to yell, complain, protest about you being separated from everyone. He wanted to put up a fight about you being separated from him. But Minho clamped a hand on his shoulder and advised him to ‘shut the hell up’, clearly not wanting to upset the fragile peace they had established. Not wanting to disrupt the safety they had so freshly claimed. 

So Thomas kept his mouth shut - for now. It was for the greater good of the group. Everyone was bathed, clothed, fed, sleeping in warm beds. But he couldn’t help but to feel strange that he was the only one worried about you when they hadn’t seen you in days now. 

Minho simply assumed that girls weren’t allowed to co-mingle with guys in this new facility - and maybe he was right about that. But something about the whole thing just felt off to Thomas. It kept him on edge and kept him from sleeping more than an hour or so most nights while the other boys slumbered peacefully around him. 

On this particular day, Thomas was in the middle of picking at his meal, scoping out the area, theorizing if he could sneak past the guards somehow. If he could get past them, he could venture down any number of the hallways that they hadn’t been to before in order to look for you. He had all this romping through his mind at a break-rate pace when someone came up behind him - tapping on his shoulder and breaking him from these thoughts in a way that utterly startled him. 

Thomas whipped his head around to find one of those anonymous masked soldiers standing behind him. 

“Thomas?” 

He nodded in response.  

“Come with me.” 

Thomas wanted to question it, and when he looked back across the table, he saw Minho, Newt, and Fry looking at him with concern - but he gave them a gentle nod and rose from his seat to follow the man. Something in his gut told him that this might finally lead him to you - that his patience would finally pay off. And he wouldn’t risk that by throwing an emotional fit now. 

He followed the man through a door he had never been allowed to touch before, down a long hallway, through another set of doors, and down several more long hallways - Thomas memorized the twists and turns as he had done with The Maze. First left, then right, then another left. It felt like they had been walking for too long, and Thomas had to wonder just how large this building was. 

Just as Thomas was starting to feel truly on edge, the man came to a stop in front of a seemingly random door - one with a number on it. 708. He reached out, turned the handle, and opened the door. Then he nodded toward it. 

“In.” He said, giving Thomas a simple, brute instruction to get inside. 

Thomas was anxious and hesitant, but he pushed back those feelings - and he ended up being so glad that he did. 

When he stepped inside, he was overjoyed to see you. 

You were sitting on the edge of the bed (it was a room that, upon closer inspection was more like a one room prison cell - with a single bed, a single a toilet in the corner, and a small metal desk with a chair in the other corner) - you looked up when you saw movement in the doorway, having no clue what was coming next. 

Your entire face lit up with intense joy when you saw Thomas. 

“Thomas!” You cried out his name with intense relief, emotional tears quickly springing up in the corners of your eyes as you jumped off the bed and rushed to greet him.

“Y/N,” He breathed out your name like a prayer, his arms opening wide for you as they had been many times before. 

You were quick to fall into the hug, tightly wrapping your arms around his strong torso, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. You had just been escorted back from your daily shower and your fresh clothes were still clinging to you with wetness, but he definitely didn’t mind the feeling of your damp skin under his hands. He didn’t care if you were getting his clothes wet because it was you. 

It only truly hit you now how utterly terrifying the past few days had been. Going from your home in the Glade to such a strange new place, being ripped away from everything you had ever known. Alby’s death, Chuck’s death, Gally’s death - your friends dropping like flies. Being brought here and being ripped away from the safety of your friends, ripped away from the last people you knew and being completely isolated from them, not knowing when you would get to see them again. 

Thomas’s tight hold around you - the familiarity of his body surrounding you, making you feel safe, it was something that made you realize how truly alone and scared you had been over the past few days. It made you realize that you had been swallowing down all of your emotions in an effort to protect yourself. It made you realize how much you truly cherished his hugs. How much you truly cherished him. 

“I was so worried about you.” Thomas breathed out, clearly making a heaving effort not to cry himself. 

You let out a gentle sob into his chest and he rubbed your back, trying his best to comfort you. 

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “It’s okay - I’m here now. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you go ever again. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Y/N - I swear.” 

Unconsciously, he was promising these things more to himself. He felt like a failure for letting you out of his sight in the first place. He had no clue what they had done to you that had made you so upset, and he cursed himself for not being with you in order to protect you from it. Even though he didn’t know what ‘it’ was, it was stupid for letting anything bad happen to you. 

If either of you had been paying more attention, less caught up in the heightened emotions of the reunion, then you would have noticed the door sealing shut behind Thomas. You would have noticed the heavy ‘click’ of the lock as both of you became trapped there. But you had each other back now, and you couldn’t exactly care where you were in those moments - as long as you were in each others’ arms. 

“What happened?” Thomas demanded sharply, pulling away from the hug slightly in order to put a hand on your chin, forcing your tear-streaked gaze toward his, hoping to get the truth out of you. “What did they do? What did they do to you?” 

His energy increased in franticness the longer he went without an answer, staring at the sadness in your eyes with a knot forming in his stomach. 

“Nothing.” You quickly replied, feeling as though this was the truth. 

They hadn’t done anything to you. At least not anything that was outwardly malicious. 

They had let you shower, given you fresh clothes, fed you three healthy meals a day. And other than the medical appointments that you didn’t fully understand the point of (some of which were slightly more invasive than you would have liked), none of it was dangerous or painful. You had simply been kept in this room the whole time. You had been scared from being under-informed and lonely from not being allowed to see your friends. 

But none of that seemed like a crime. Especially compared to the treacherous deadly Grievers in The Maze. 

“Please don’t lie to me.” Thomas said quietly, his throat choked off by the intensity of the emotions - the grief he felt for your sadness, the anger he was holding back toward whoever had hurt you. (And towards himself for not better protecting you.) 

“Look, it’s nothing.” 

You assured him, reaching up and grabbing his hand, soothingly petting your fingers over his knuckles in a gesture almost too affectionate for someone you called ‘friend’. 

“Just - I was lonely. And I was scared because they wouldn’t let me see you. I was probably stuck in here, feeling all the same things you felt-” 

Thomas cut off your words by pulling you back into another crushing hug, which you eagerly leaned into, cuddling your cheek into his chest, enjoying the warmth and the safety you felt from having his arms around you again. 

“Yeah.” He easily agreed to this sentiment. And then he wondered: “Where have you been the whole time?” 

“Just here.” You told him honestly. 

You didn’t feel the need to tell him about the doctor’s appointments - even the unpleasant ones. Especially because you assumed that he and the other boys had been through the same, likely with a different doctor. 

This caused another knot in Thomas’s gut. They had been keeping you in the same tiny room, not letting you see any other people? So - Minho’s theory about you being off in some other dorm making friends with a bunch of girls had been completely wrong. 

It wasn’t outright cruel, but it made alarms go off in Thomas’s head. It made his protective instincts toward you act up again. 

“I won’t let that happen to you again.” Thomas said firmly, trying his best to be assuring, even though he knew that he had no real authority over the decision. 

He cradled your head soothingly, petting a hand over your hair in a sweet, protective way. 

“Thomas-” 

You were about to remind him of the fact that he held no power over this when a very strange sound caused your voice to shrink back into your throat as you became distracted. 

You and Thomas both became drawn to the sound, both of your heads whipping up to look at it. Immediately, you saw that some of the tiles lining the ceiling had shrunk back, making way for small metal tubes that protruded out of the walls all around the room, creating a high-pitched hissing noise as they sprayed some kind of white mist into the air. This went on for about twenty seconds before it stopped, and then the tubes retracted back into the walls and the tiles slid back into their usual place. 

… 

“Chemical compound LI69 has been distributed.”

“How long until the subjects feel the effects?” 

“Effects will be immediate. Symptoms should be noticeable in ten to twenty minutes. Desired outcome will be inevitable within twenty four hours.” 

“Good. Keep bi-hourly notes. I want a full report.” 

… 

“What - what the hell was that?” Thomas wondered aloud, frantically looking around the room where the tubes had disappeared into the walls. 

“I don’t know.” You replied honestly. “I mean - that’s never happened before. It - it was probably a disinfectant or something,” You shrugged, trying to rationalize it, trying not to jump to the conclusion that it was something poisonous or harmful. 

Thomas let go of you and whipped around to the door - panic flooded him when he turned the handle and found it locked. 

“Hello?!” He screamed, banging on the door and fruitlessly jiggling the handle. “Hello?! Assholes! You can let us out now!” 

“Thomas,” You scolded him gently - his panic naturally unsettling to you. 

You wanted him to calm down - his nervous energy was making you nervous. And you had spent far too much time over the past few days cramped up inside of this room being nervous. You wanted to simply be able to enjoy the pleasant fact of his presence after missing him for what felt like decades of loneliness. But Thomas wasn’t going to lay down and make that easy on you. 

He rushed to the other end of the room, stepping up onto the desk chair and then the desk, peering into the vent as though he would be able to find a way out through there. 

“Thomas, please - just calm down. I’m sure it was nothing.” You continued, trying to get him to calm down. 

“Nothing?” He scoffed. “It’s never just ‘nothing’ with these people.” 

This was the last thing he said to you before his mind locked in on the task, and he focused on trying to find a way out of the small room. 

He spent a few minutes trying to loosen the bolts on the vent (which wouldn’t have been large enough for either of you to crawl out even if he did get the vent cover off). So all he did was make his fingers sore fighting against the welded metal. And then he moved on to brute force - he picked up the chair and tried to simply beat the doorknob clean off. 

But again, it was something that was very well made, seemingly bulletproof. And by the time he had taken a few good swings, he was heaving with sweat, breathless, and he found it to be way too hot in the small space. 

Surely his body was boiling over from the efforts of swinging the chair around in such a small, closed space. So he placed it down and moved to take off his shirt, surprised by just how damp the fabric was, seeped with sweat already in such a short time. He balled up the fabric and began patting himself down with it, trying to get some relief on his overly heated skin. 

And then, his entire system became utterly distracted by a single, tiny sound. 

A whimper. 

He whipped his head around at lightning speed, realizing that it had been you who had made that sound - it had been your whimper. And suddenly, everything in Thomas’s body, every single one of his senses became utterly overwhelmed by you. 

The sight of you on the bed, sitting patiently, waiting for him to fetter away at whatever plan he came up with next - you looked so stunning, so breath-taking. You were covered in a sheen of sweat, obviously warmer than before - so it wasn’t just Thomas. It wasn’t just because of his exertion in trying to break out of here. 

Were they turning up the temperature in the room? Were they planning to cook the two of you as some kind of punishment? 

Yet - that thought quickly dissolved off into Thomas’s mind as a distant worry the more he looked at you; the more he drank in your slightly parted, bitten lips - so pretty, so kissable. The more he looked at the way stray hairs stuck to your flushed, sticky skin, wanting to gently wipe them out of the way. The more he admired your breasts gently heaving with each breath, your nipples sticking off through your shirt and thin bra. 

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before, but he could even smell you in the air. 

Your natural smell was something so prominent in the air, something so perfect he could suffocate in tight in the small space. Shamefully, that scent was something he knew so damn well, something he had memorized and treasured close when his memories of life had still been so few and his head had still been so empty. 

Hugging you those first few times, he had tucked his nose into your hair and greedily whiffed deep breaths of your scent, absolutely loving how you were sweet, soapy. Even if you were slightly sweaty from a long day of work, your natural scent was so damn perfect to him. 

It was a smell that he loved so dearly - on top of everything else that he loved about you. 

This time that wonderful scent that he knew as yours had something else underlying with it - something needy and pungent that he wouldn’t quite know yet was arousal. Your arousal. But it was bringing back that feeling of anxious insanity that he had been boiling with earlier that day. The feeling that made him practically crawl out of his own skin, feeling like he needed to get to you. Feeling like he needed to save you from some big, unseen danger. 

Here, now, being in this room with you - he still didn’t feel close enough. He wasn’t close enough to you. He still didn’t feel as though that anxious thing inside of him, calling out for you had been answered. Not yet. 

Thomas had the urge to reach out and pull you close, hold you in his arms again, but he had a feeling that he would squeeze you tight and not want to let go - and then he would lose focus on getting you out of this room and to a safe place. And that just wouldn’t do. 

“Thomas - you-your shirt…” You whispered the words on the edge of your breath, as though you were breaking some terrible secret by speaking it aloud. 

He had almost forgotten that he had stripped off his shirt in such a haste. The fabric was now clutched tightly in his shaking fist. Unconsciously, he was directing all of his energy to that point, furiously focusing on his grip to help himself resist the urge to reach out and grab you. 

He hadn’t yet noticed the way you were looking at him. 

Your eyes hungrily raking over his bare torso, scanning over every inch of him. From the muscles that bulged in his biceps while he moved, to the veins protruding in his forearms, to the trail of delicious dark hair down from his belly button that disappeared into his pants. It was a way you had never looked at him before. You had never truly noticed how Thomas - your strong, comforting Thomas - was so utterly, carnally sexy. 

He thought nothing of taking off his shirt in front of you, because it was something he had done plenty of times before. He had done it while working in the gardens with you (as a leader in the Glade, you had rotated jobs a lot, going wherever a spare hand was needed). And you certainly hadn’t looked at him with anything resembling hunger in your eyes back then. 

At least, he thought you hadn’t. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled out, worried that he had made you uncomfortable by stripping so casually in front of you. “I just find it really warm in here, too warm, it’s hot - do you find it hot?” 

He had to ask, hating that nagging heat, almost as if it was crawling under his skin - something so much different from the pleasantly warm sun of the Glade. This was a heat bubbling up from his very core, pin-pricking all over his skin from the inside out. He wondered if this was what a fever felt like. 

Was he getting sick? Was he going to get you sick?

He felt another thick bead of sweat roll down his face and he used his balled up shirt to wipe it off. 

“I guess?” You huffed out, seeming irritated. “Maybe.” 

You squirmed on the spot and let out a pained sound, something that had Thomas on high alert once again. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, purposefully locking his knees to keep himself from jumping toward you. 

If he was getting sick, then invading your personal space wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact - he made it a point to take a step back, putting distance between himself and you. But he kept his eyes locked on you, keeping a protective watch over you while his back became flush with the metal of the door. It was a pleasantly cooling sensation for a moment before the fever inside of him overpowered it - reminding him just how boiling hot he was. 

“It hurts.” You told him, your voice dissolving into a shaky, pained whine. 

Shamefully, the sound rocked Thomas, and flooded him with something that could have only been described as arousal. 

Fuck. 

The way you looked up at him with glassy-eyes, tears barely edging your waterline, clearly hot and overwhelmed yourself, squirming against the bed - trying to get some friction against your… oh. Oh wow. That realization rocked him like a ton of bricks to the head, and even more heat swelled up inside of his gut. 

You must have been feeling all the same things that he was. 

Dizzy, hot, overwhelmed - having an intense need to hold you and to be held. Brain thumping with nothing but thoughts of you, mind littered with nothing but your smell, nothing but thoughts of your skin. Willing to do anything for you at a moment’s notice. 

Thomas finally let himself flex to those needs, and raced across the room toward you - literally falling on his knees in front of you. 

If you had pain, he would fix it. He would do anything for you. 

“What hurts?” He asked, realizing that the desperation throttling his throat made it sound more like he was begging. But he was too far gone to care. “What hurts? What’s wrong? Come on, tell me. Please.” 

You were almost too incoherent to put the feeling into words so quickly, as quickly as he needed you too. You were too distracted by the sight of his big soft brown eyes staring up at you with utter worship in them - along with his pink cheeks and bits of his dark hair stuck to his face with sweat, that softness contrasted by the broad hardness of his shoulders spread across your lap. 

“Thomas-” You gasped out, cut off by his next action. 

“Y/N, please.” 

He grabbed up both of your hands, clutching them tightly in his own - and that, the first skin-to-skin contact you had felt since becoming this overwhelmed with the heat and the need - it set something off inside of you. It sent sharp shocks up your spine and made your pussy clench around nothing, sending a flood of wetness soaking into your underwear. And it made you feel too weak for your own good in that moment. 

If you lingered there for too long, you would tumble into the abyss. You would simply give into every instinct screaming inside of your body and beg for him to fuck you until you didn’t know your own name. 

And even though that was everything you had ever wanted, all you could remember wanting right then and there, especially from Thomas, the small remaining sense in your brain said that it was a bad idea. 

You let out a sharp gasp, and raced to escape the touch - you knocked your hands out of his and squirmed away from him, jumping up off the bed. Thomas let out a whine of disappointment and crumbled tighter onto his knees, wondering what he could have done to disappoint you. Knowing that he needed to do anything he could to make up for disappointing you. 

But something inside of his skull was chanting: 

She’s in pain. Make it stop. Make her pain go away. 

You know the answer. 

And while you panicked, hoping to fight against what your body wanted, hoping to delay the inevitable, the thing that Thomas already knew he wanted, Thomas picked himself up off the floor. 

All too soon, he crowded into your personal space from behind. You let out another shocked gasp as he pressed his body into yours from behind, the firm, intensely heated muscle like wall of lava engulfing you. 

This time, not letting you get away, he secured you there with a hand around your chest that was oddly comforting, making sure to pull you close and keep you close. He forced you to feel every single inch of his boiling hot body pressed right up against yours. Sweat gently sticking against you through your clothes, his hot breath huffing against your neck, and what must have been the hard bulge of his cock pressing against the roundness of your ass. 

It was all too perfect. And still, something nagged in the back of your mind that you couldn’t have that perfection all to yourself. Something must have been wrong in order for this to be happening to you. 

“Thomas,” You whined out - unsure if you wanted to tell him to get off or wanted to beg him for more. 

Instinctively, you reached up and gripped at his forearm, sinking into the security of his touch. It was soothing, in a sense, and at the same time - it drove your body mad and made the pain in your cunt so much worse. 

Any mental clarity you previously had was quickly fading. 

So much so that neither of you had the mind to piece together that this was happening to you because of the chemicals that had been sprayed into the room earlier. Not that you could do much about it now. 

Thomas leaned over your shoulder, stuffing his nose into your neck, taking in a purposeful, thick whiff of your scent. He drank you in so shamelessly now, so happy to have you in his arms, right where he wanted you - right where he needed you. He held your body so tight to his, almost crushing you in his grip in the most perfect way - as if worried you might escape if he let you move even an inch. 

Between desperate pants, he laid slick, open-mouthed kisses along your forehead, down the side of your face - lavishing you with affection, grateful and greedy now that he had you in his arms, now that he had caught you. Grateful that he had taken you from those bastards who had stolen you from him. Grateful that he had won. 

His actions left you panting wildly into the air as the heat surged within your body - this attention on your skin not being enough, but yet, your mind was too muddled with the overwhelming heat to ask for more. 

He continued kissing your skin, even nosing along your cheek before he finally gathered enough of his mind to speak. 

“I’ll help. I’ll help you, Y/N.” 

He huffed out, heaving more of his dense beautiful breath across your skin, making you whine again in return. 

“I’ll fix it. Just tell me. Just tell me what hurts. Please, tell me. I promise I’ll fix it. I can fix it.” 

His utter dedication to you was sewn into every word, clutching you tighter across the chest in a way that almost crushed your windpipe - something that made you gasp for air and nearly thank him for it, wanting to dissolve back into his hot muscles and live there, somehow still not close enough. 

“I’ll do anything for you, Y/N, I will. I’ll help you. Just tell me, please.” 

You found the fire of that dedication more enlightening than the one slowly boiling you to death from inside, and it was that - that sacred promise that had you finally giving in. It was Thomas’s sacred affection for you that finally made you feel safe to give into your body’s needs. 

You reached out and grabbed Thomas’s hand - the one hovering by his side that wasn’t keeping you trapped tightly against his chest. His fingers locked tightly in a fist without the fabric of his shirt to keep his knuckles from popping under the fury of his own grip this time. You rubbed soothingly on the back of his palm, loosening the muscles there before you guided that hand between your thighs, guiding him to touch you on your still clothed pussy, through your pants. 

“Here, Tommy.” You breathed out, your tongue feeling so fat and useless in your mouth. “It hurts here. Need your help. Need you.” 

Without a moment of hesitation, instantly understanding what you needed, sparked with even more desperation by the nickname on your lips, Thomas sprung into action. 

He began frantically rubbing your pussy through your pants - inadvertently pushing the zipper at the front of your trousers right up against your clit with the heavy weight of his palm. A sensation that made you keen out and arch back into him as though you had been possessed, harsh, amazing tingles zapping through your body from that tiny point. You threw your head back against his shoulder and relied even more on the strength of his body and the will of his grip across your shoulders not to fall down as ravenous pleasure overtook you. 

“I’ll fix it.” He huffed into your ear. 

His voice barely registered to you past the shocking beautiful pleasure he was causing between your thighs as he continued to rub your clothed clit. 

“I’ll make it better. I’ll make it all better.” 

He laid more hot, sloppy kisses against your neck and your cheek, and you could do little more than moan out loudly and squirm against him, becoming utterly lost in the sensations. You accidentally humped your ass against his cock in a way that made him growl and rub your clit even harder, even faster. It made you absolutely alight with pleasure, filling all of your senses with nothing but him. Nothing but the feeling of his strong arm working between your thighs, nothing but the scent of his sweat in the air, nothing but his quiet growls against your ear. 

“Oh, Tommy!” You moaned out. “I’m gonna-” 

Before you knew it, your body had been overtaken by the intense wave of an orgasm, something that had you crying out loudly and shaking in his arms, your body beautifully dizzy in seconds. You reached out to grip his forearm, leaving claw marks in his skin while you let out a stream of incoherent sounds as the sensations rocked you. 

“Hey, shh. I got you. I got you,” He was nothing but a sweet assurance in your ear - his dick still throbbing and utterly needy in his pants, but forgotten in favor of pleasing you. For now. 

After a few moments, he lifted his hand from between your thighs, causing a sharp whine of disappointment from you. He used this touch to force your jaw toward him, twisting your neck awkwardly to meet him in a kiss over your shoulder. It caused an ache in your neck, but you delighted in the feeling of his lips desperately clinging to your own, the chance to steal his breath.

You had thought about kissing Thomas many times before - but you had never imagined that it would be like this. 

When it was over, there was one thing that both of you knew for certain: you both needed more.

“Please, Tommy.” You breathed against his mouth as you pulled away from the kiss. “I need more. Please.” 

Every single instinct inside of him screamed to follow this order - that this was the divine answer to his existence. This was everything his life had been leading up to from the moment he had seen your sweet face after he had been pulled out of that fucking Box. 

“I got you.” He assured you. 

He then guided you back to the bed and - very hesitantly - separated his grip from you in order to make sure that you could comfortably lay down on your back. Within seconds, he was on you again, absorbing your mouth into a hot, desperate kiss while he laid flush on top of you. 

You couldn’t help but to moan into that kiss, fisting your hands into his hair, holding him tightly to you as though he was your only source of oxygen - welcoming it when his tongue forced its way into your mouth. You sucked on it and moaned around him, becoming dizzier with the heat. 

When you felt his hard cock against your thigh, feeling him jutting his hips forward to try and find some relief against you - it caused a deeper pain in your pussy, a distinct feeling of emptiness and you knew that you needed more. You knew exactly what you needed - what that ‘more’ was. 

You pulled back from the kiss to whimper against his lips. 

“More.” You pleaded gently. “Please, Tommy.” 

“Yes.” He huffed back in return. “Anything - anything for you.” 

Naturally, his hands went back between your legs, and you guided him up to the button of your pants, both of you working frantically in tandem to get your pants off this time. That nagging heat only building inside of you, something telling you that you would go insane if you didn’t get your clothes off soon. While Thomas ripped your pants down over your thighs, pulling your underwear with them, you sat up slightly and ditched your shirt, leaving you wearing only the thin cotton bra that had come with this set of new clothes. 

Thomas let out a growl when more of your delicious scent hit him. With your pants around your ankles, it was more pungent now, ripe in the air, smacking him in the face in the most perfect way. And he felt another wave of crippling heat punch him in the gut as it fogged his brain over. It was so pungent that it was ripe on his tongue and he needed more. Something in his brain was chanting at him that he needed to taste it - he needed to devour that delicious scent, the essence of you, right from the fucking source. 

With his tongue lapping at the air like a fucking dog, Thomas let out more thick, heavy breaths while he desperately tried to untangle the fabric from your ankles, trying to free you so that he could have better access to you. After a moment too long of struggle for both of your liking, he was finally able to toss it all carelessly behind him, leaving you almost naked beneath him. 

But he didn’t have a moment to marvel at the beauty of your bare body. A sight that he had imagined so many times before in his mind’s eye, snuck away into the privacy of the woods with a hand tight around his cock thinking about this exact sight - no, he couldn’t sit back and simply drink it in. 

He was a man on a mission - a man living through a years long drought and finally met with the glorious fountain that would eternally quench his thirst. 

He didn’t even question the need to put his mouth on your pussy, didn’t wonder why the thought was so prominently at the forefront of his mind. Instead, he simply pinned your legs open against the bed with his palms flat on your inner thighs and did it, chased the urge that rang through his mind so damn clearly. 

“Oh, Thomas!” 

In seconds, it was the most divine thing he had ever experienced. 

With you moaning above his head, gasping out his name, with your taste so pungent on his tongue, with your heat beating under his mouth - it was too fucking perfect to let go of. 

Thomas moaned into your pussy, pure fuzzy pleasure melting his brain between his ears, making it impossible for him to think of anything but you. His mind filled with nothing but feed me, feed me, keep me alive, you are my life. 

The thick taste of your wetness on his tongue was all he needed, all he needed to live from now on, nothing more. He could feel you squirming and fighting against him; he could feel your thighs jolting and jumping under his hands as your nerves were overstimulated. He could feel your hips bucking up into his face, smearing more of that perfect wetness across his chin and cheeks, smothering him in it - perfect, how perfect. 

He could feel the sting of you tugging on his hair but it only added to the perfect sensation of dumb dizziness that pumped through him, that made him so fucking ravenous for you. It only made him moan into your cunt louder and shove his tongue into you deeper, looking for more. 

“Oh, ugh! Tommy! Tommy!” 

You felt like you were burning alive. 

His tongue against you was horrible and perfect - doing nothing to relieve the ache deep inside of you, one that demanded to be filled. 

His tongue lapping at you so hungrily only added more terrible, sweltering heat, causing more shocks of pleasure stinging up your body with each deep pass of his tongue that he swept over you, trying to devour you whole. 

The more he moaned against you, the more he vibrated your already sore clit, making you cry out, the more he caused your body to be consumed by that deep, uncomfortable he. The more he made it near impossible for you to breathe past the moans fighting out of your lungs. 

You desperately tugged on his hair, but only got his attention when you finally fought hard enough to get words out. 

“Tommy, please!” You begged, tears spilling out of your eyes now. “Please, stop! It hurts!” 

Those words - those painful words shocked Thomas back to reality. 

Had he been selfish, drinking from your essence to satisfy his thirst without considering your own? 

He pulled back from your pussy with a wet smack that made you whimper, taking his hands off your thighs, finally freeing your legs from the tight, stretched out position. Somehow, he looked even better staring you down with those needy, wide eyes while his face was covered in your juices. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I-” 

“Please, just - I need you.” You choked out in reply, reaching a shaking hand toward his pants. “I need you inside me, Tommy. I need you to fix it.” 

“Yes, yes, yes.” Thomas replied, chanting to you as though answering a prayer in a place of worship, fully prepared to worship you as the goddess you were to him. “Yes, I’ll fix it.” 

He rushed to get his pants and underwear off with just as much frantic struggle, and soon he was naked on top of you. Meanwhile, you ripped off the stupid bra in order to feel the satisfying press of his bare skin on yours, something impossibly boiling hot. A feeling that had you moaning into his shoulder while you hooked your leg around his hip, urgent to get closer to him. 

Without a second of hesitation, Thomas sunk his cock inside of you. 

His cock was a searing hot rod pressing into your well-slicked entrance, making both of you white-out with the feeling for a few moments while the need and satisfaction rattled through your insides. It was what you had both been waiting for, desperately needing from the moment that mystery chemical had hit your systems. And now that you had it - Thomas’s cock deep inside of you, the perfect satisfaction of being joined, being as close as possible, your body sang with perfect relief. 

But there was still that nagging for something more. 

Neither of you would be satisfied - it wouldn’t fully be out of your systems until you both came from this. 

It was that nagging that had him gripping onto your hips, holding you still so that he could begin hammering into you, desperate to answer that nagging in the back of his skull: fuck her, take her, fill her up - she’s yours. She is yours. 

It was a feeling so utterly perfect that you instantly relaxed against him - all of your muscles melting into the feeling of his cock fucking into you so rapidly, filling you up so well. You gripped tightly at his back, determined to hold him close, just as he had done to you before. You needed to keep him absolutely close, so tight to your body while his cock filled you up so perfectly. 

“Tommy, please. Oh, oh, Tommy!” You moaned into his neck, your pussy fluttering around him as his hips stuttered. 

Overwhelmed and dizzy with the heat, from the tips of his ears to the space where his cock sunk deep into your warm pussy, drowning in wetness, he could only focus on one thing. One single mission rattling between his ears. 

Fill her up. Make her yours. 

“Gonna fill you up.” He growled back, not even entirely realizing that he was speaking these words aloud - a sacred promise to him now, the only driving force of his entire life, the thing that his entire existence hinged on. “Gonna make you so full of me. So perfect, so full of me.” 

Getting lost in your warm pussy, filling you up, making your pain go away, worshiping you. He wasn’t going to lose you again, he was going to keep you safe. He was going to keep you in his arms forever, was going to keep you safe, wrapped around his cock - forever. He fucked his hips forward harder, making a loud, wet smack continually resonate throughout the room as he tried his hardest to deliver on these promises. 

“Gonna make you mine,” He growled, his voice reaching a deep tone that you had only ever heard when he had argued with Gally - ticked off, full of rage. “Gonna keep you safe. Forever.” 

But somehow - this was different. It was a rage that was twinged with passion. 

With love. 

It was a sound that made all the hair on your body stand on end, forced a sharp gasp from your lips as it utterly rocked your body. 

You dug your nails into his back, possessively gripping the flesh, holding him tightly, trying to keep him close. Forcing him to keep his promises. 

“Yours.” You echoed back, your voice half-breath, half pure need. 

“You are mine.” He groaned in return. “Mine, mine, mine, mine-” 

He chanted this as a mantra, fucking into you harder with each utterance of the sacred word before he cut himself off with a harsh gasp, his hips stilling suddenly. 

And then - perfection. 

He pressed into you as deeply as possible, filling you up with perfect warmth, delivering on his promise. Your gut curled with a nearly painful orgasm in response, causing you to bite down tightly on the flesh of his shoulder as you moaned wildly against him. Tears leaked from your eyes as you were nearly blinded with euphoria. 

“Mine.” Thomas hummed again, almost quietly to himself, leaving a small peak on the side of your neck to compliment his point. 

Once again, just as he had done when he first entered the room, he cradled your head so softly, petting your hair soothingly. It was a deep contrast to the near rabid man who had been fucking you only a minute ago. And he gently humped his hips against you, something unconscious telling him to make sure that he fucked his cum deeper into you - nice and deep. 

The two of you stayed tangled like this, instinctively not wanting to pull away from each other, an intense need to stay locked so close. Needing to be close to the person you needed most. In an effort not to crush you with his body weight, Thomas rolled onto his side, with you still holding him tightly, with your leg still hooked over his hip, with his softening cock slightly falling out of your now messy cunt - much to the disappointment of both of you. 

(Thomas surprised himself when he shoved his hips forward, trying to get closer, trying to get back inside of you.) 

But you both felt much more at ease now. And tangled together like that, with your arms wrapped around each other, with Thomas gently kissing over your forehead and your shoulders - you both dozed off into a gentle sleep. 

… 

Thomas woke up cold and alone. 

He dressed frantically, and surprisingly, he found the door unlocked. 

He had too many questions, and had one singular mission on his mind: 

Find you, and kill anybody who had laid their hands on you without his permission.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. If you liked this fic, please consider showing me that by reblogging or commenting, but if you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written instead of asking for more. If you want to see more fics from this fandom, I will be posting more in the future, and if you want to see more things that I have already posted, I have over one million words worth of work between my AO3 (linked in my pinned post) and my Masterlist for you to enjoy. Happy reading, and I hope you have a great day!!

[artyandink]

the art of heresy | masterlist

SUMMARY: Modern day, 2022, and you have no clue what’s going on. You knew what you went through. You knew it was real, but why were there people trying to convince you that everything that happened to you wasn’t real. Hell, you called bullshit. But you get your chance to fight back when you get a call at your door.

TW: psychological torture, trauma, angst, smut, slight fluff, drinking, consumption of drugs, smoking, mentions of sex, blood, gore, Ben (cause he’s an individual warning), derogatory remarks, gunfire, murder, killing, lots of it, it’s The Boys so be careful guys, really creepy shit, literal crack

A/N - divider by @chachachannah

𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗟: Baby, One Last Dance 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗢𝗡𝗘: Keep it Quiet 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗢: V420 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘: Me, You, My Mind 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥: Head to the Back 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗜𝗩𝗘: Cracked Armour 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗫: Superglue 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡: Cost a Million 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧: Heads will Roll 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗘: Going Cards Up 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗘𝗡: Livin’ the Dream, Darlin’

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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[bulletswithribbons]

"Fucking hate journalists"

Kai Anderson X Fem!reader // NSFW

Warnings: Kai Anderson. You guess it. Very little plot, degrading, non-con/dob-con, mentions of murder, implied masochism, rough oral sex (m receiving), gun play, slut shaming, hair pulling, let me know if I missed any.

Summary: Kai breaks in your house to teach you your place after non-stop asking him back handed questions during the interview. Events eventually take a twisted turn, you were never that much of a good girl anyways.

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: This is my first ever fic, I've read plenty and wrote smut before so I'm pretty confident. But first time publishing so here we go.

Interviewing Kai right after his campaign was not the best call at all, especially the way you kept pressing him. You knew you shouldn’t have but this is war whether he knew it or not. You took a vow on yourself to make him expose himself on his own. You’ve always been suspicious about him but you had no proof of your accusations, and calling someone out based on your gut is not really professional, especially as a journalist. 

Even though someone had to confront him about his mistakes and fear mongering, your questions only made things worse, for you at least. You pushed too hard, making him feel small in front of the media. He could sense your suspicion with every question, and it's clear you put a big dent in his ego.

You were sitting on your desk, ticking your pen as a form of anti-stress. A bit of a mess actually, papers scattered, pens strewn about. Newspapers and magazines pile up, post-it notes plastered everywhere and a coffee cup long forgotten. Your desk lamp sits on the edge, casting a soft, warm glow in the room. You've always preferred gentle lights especially when working, it helps you think.

Your thoughts spiral around making your headache worse than it already is. How could you possibly put him down, once and for all..?

A bone-chilling breeze whispers over the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You enjoy it while it lasts, a refreshing breeze in this stifling hot night. It must have come from the window behind you, although you don't remember leaving it open... It doesn't matter. Nothing does as long as you still have work to do.

Your slender fingers reach for your white blouse, unbuttoning it. Once removed, you toss it aside, letting it fall to the floor, trying to cool your temperature down. You're digging through Kai's files, searching for a gap to use against him. It wasn't your job to do so. But as a journalist of course, you'd investigate and research to report the facts and keep people up with the facts.

Perhaps it's because you take what he says in the media personally. After all, a part of you is a feminist, a part you're not ready to let go of, at least for the sake of all the women who fought for their place in this world. You see through his manipulation tactics because you've seen them before. You know a narcissist when you see one.

"Fuck!" You shout as you throw the papers off your desk.

"Hm, come on now, how dare you throw these papers. We don't want little big mouth to lose her temper." He tsks, with an overly sweet tone dripping with sarcasm.

Shocked, you recognize the voice as you feel something hard poking you in the back of your head, trailing down to your neck, detaching your hair that was hardly holding up in the messy bun. Cold, metal. Sudden realisations hit all at once, but most importantly is the outsider in your house -your room- you pissed off earlier this day holding a gun to your head.

"Mr. Anderson, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. What the fuck are you doing in my house?!" you ask, your voice rising towards the end. You're trying your best to stay calm. One mistake, and you’re dead. Young lady in her 20s corpse’ found shot in her bedroom because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“Mr. Anderson?”He repeats after you, chuckling. “They’re always respectful when fearful.” A sinful smirk tugs his lips, a look of pride in his dark cold eyes after hearing his last name coming from your trembling lips. “But I would have to politely decline your offer. I’m here to fix the mess of a situation you’ve just created for yourself. After all, I don’t want to lose voters over something so foolish. Especially this… close to the election.”

"Like hell I—or anyone with a brain that knows right from wrong—would vote for you!" You yell as you stand up from your seat.

His jaw clenches and nostrils flare, showing his annoyance. His grip on the gun tightening as he lifts the gun up to your temple, his finger twitching on the trigger. His voice, on the other hand, remains eerily sweet. “I really think you should keep your voice down.”

You swallow, your throat drier than ever. 

His voice lowers to a whisper, "I see you started learning. Good girl, I'm proud of fast learners." He takes a step towards you, his free hand stroking your chin and cheek, his touch alone giving you goosebumps. The gun rests on your temple, his eyes darting around the room.Then his focus shifts back to you. "Get on your knees," he orders and pulls his hand away from your face.

“I’m sorry?” You rush out, your eyes widening.

“Now,” he responds, his tone dripping with impatience as he jerks his gun to signal his order. “Expecting company?” He inquires looking down at your —bra only— chest.

You crouch down on your knees, his gun still pointing to your head. “No,” you respond short and clearly. For a minute, you believe you saw him smile slightly. A smile of pride.. 

“You’re such an obedient slut, aren’t you?” He pauses, “You defied me, made a fool of me in front of everyone. That doesn't go unnoticed.” He whispers, his voice pitch getting higher towards the end.

“So you’re going to shoot me? Because I hurt your little pathetic ‘man ego’? Because I’m small and vulnerable while you’re big and strong?” You retort, fake amusement hiding your fear.

“You’re smart. Most girls aren't smart. Well, that was the plan.” His smirk widens, his tone sounding even more sadistic as he slowly traces the gun barrel around your jawline— tracing it slowly with the tip of his gun. You notice him staring at your lips. “But now, seeing how big of a mouth you have, I’m going to show you what whores like you are made for.” He informs, his tone bled dry of emotion.

“The kitchen and carrying useless men’s babies. I Get it, trust.” You lash out. Although you know keeping your mouth shut is probably the better option, especially in this exact situation. But that never really happens, at least not most of the time.

Kai’s grip tightens on the gun as his rage begins to seep through his body. His other hand darts out to your face and before you even notice it, a slap lands with a sharp crack, sending a jolt of pain rippling through your cheek and leaving you on the floor. It stings, you can feel a red mark in its wake. Leaving you feeling shocked and humiliated.

You were lying down there on the floor, your body stretched out, limbs motionless. There was no sense of ease in your posture nor the room, rather a stillness that borders on tension. Even the air itself felt stifling.

Your eyes widen at the sight of his free hand darting to his zipper, pulling it down tooth by tooth. “You see, you just know how things work.” His tone becomes condescending, he pops the button and grip the waistband of his pants pulling it down until it’s enough to pull his dick out. “You have such a delicious looking mouth. I'm sure it has been put to good use for the benefit of passing by men. I'm guessing you've had a lot of fun.” He grabs the elastic of his boxers, lowering them down over his balls and pulling out his half hard cock.

You stare at him, your face frozen in shock. “You’re sick!” you shout.

“Am I now? You're the one who's been around so many men in your life. You should be used to it by now.” He grins, his hand holding his gun and moving it from your cheek to beneath your chin, pulling it up, so you were looking at him. “You should be grateful I'm bothering to even look at you.”

Although the men you’ve been with aren’t that many, you don’t bother to waste your time explaining. He believes what he wants to believe.

“Get back here,” he orders as he starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip. A bead of precum glistening from the tip.

You crawl back to him on all fours, doing as he says, and getting back on your knees, looking up at him. “Are you going to hurt me?” you ask.

He pauses for a moment before tilting his head with a small grin. “Isn’t that what you deserve? Do you want me to hurt you? Is that it? You like pain? Is that what you crave, y/n?” 

Fear… Regret.. Along with arousal.. Unwanted arousal specifically. You always knew you had a thing for troubled —twisted— men, but this is beyond fucked-up. Not to forget, he’s your worst enemy. He’s any woman’s worst enemy.  Feeling your pussy weeping in response to his tall figure towering over you is not really something to be proud of. The heat between your thighs only grew bigger every second and you knew you needed to get rid of the feeling.

He stops pumping his cock, his hand darts to your head caressing your hair with —almost— a soft touch.

“Suck,” he orders.

Your eyes widen, your tongue ready to curse at him, “I’m not going t-” 

“I won’t ask again, suck.” His hand darts up to your face squishing your cheeks painfully together. “You run your mouth a lot, might as well put it to good use. I’ll show you what exactly happens to smart mouths. Suck it like the slut you are.” His eyes burn with anger while he’s squeezing tight, his voice dripping with venom. The tip of his heavy warm cock caresses your soft lips, tempting you to bite it off.

He roughly lets go of your face, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head to the back to force your mouth open.

He forces the tip past your teeth, hatred spewing from your eyes.

“Wider,” he demands, but you want him to beg. Beg for it on his knees and switch the table, be the one with the gun ordering him around like a house pet. Getting back your dignity sounded good but not enough if you compare it with its consequence, having your life taken away from you.

You ignore his request. Making him reinforce his hold in your hair, pulling at it harder making your jaw drop so he can get deeper to your throat. The salty taste of precum evades your taste buds.

You loved the taste of him, your mouth watering with his cock inside it. But you couldn't admit it, of course you never would. It didn’t take too long for you to wrap your fingers around the base of his shaft.

Your head bobbing up and down. A breathy moan escaped him.

“Do enlighten me,” he breathes out, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Your tongue massaged the veins that swelled on his thick cock, flattened out on the thickest one underneath and flicked at the tip.

Ragged breaths escaped his mouth as you began to inch your way down, taking in more of him. The tip of his cock bumped against the back of your throat. Kai tightens his grip around your hair, and shoves your face down against his cock, making you gag around him, violently forcing you to deep throat his dick, making you gag. His length occupying your whole mouth down to your throat. You were practically choking, but he didn’t really care about it, he’s there for one reason and one reason only, teaching you to know your place.

“Fucking whore. You thought you were so smart with those non stop questions?” He pauses panting as he thrusts harder into your throat, the sound of you gagging and the wet thrusts echoing through the room. “Fucking hate journalists. Tell me… Who got the upper hand now?” 

You can't help but ignore him once again. It's not like you would give him what he wants and come undone beneath him, right? Of course you can’t answer him, after all you’re his number one hater. But even haters would give in when it’s the most mouthwatering cock a man can ever have. 

When you avoided answering, or maybe couldn’t answer since you were basically choking on his cock. His dick alone is enough to murder you if he wanted to. It only made him thrust faster, the asshole didn’t stop mouth fucking you even when he noticed your cheeks turning to a bright red and your eyes watering. Your cries turned him even more on. Kai forced his cock further into your throat, until your nose was pressed in the bush of his pubic hair.

Finally, you gave him a wobbly nod, motioning that he has the upper hand.

His head fell back to his shoulders, “That’s good to hear.. You’re learning, you’re such a good girl…Fuck…” 

You smile at the praise. Surprisingly, him being somewhat ‘sweet’ only made him ten times hotter. 

Tears keep running down your red cheeks, your cries echoing through the room.

“Just so you know, I’m enjoying this. Your whimpers are music to my ear.” He groans. “But god dammit don’t whine like a fucking bitch.” He spits at you and it lands on your cheek. Add it to the list of body fluids covering your face, along with the sweat gathering at your forehead and drool drenching your chin. 

You moan around his thick cock, sending him vibrations through his whole body. After all, you’re not putting on an act, you are enjoying it which is something you, yourself, are afraid of. But mostly you were focused on getting oxygen into your lungs. And maybe he is right, as always. Maybe there really is a part of you that enjoys the pain. That burning stinging sensation in the back of your throat. It’s scary because it’s true. 

His thrusts then began to lose their rhythm, but still managed to keep up with his pace. You knew what was coming for you. You shut your eyes, dramatically accepting your fate. Your jaw was already tired from him using you. His shaft was heated up, thrusting in and out of your red swollen lips. His hand gripped on your hair even more tightly holding you in place while his hold on the gun loosened. 

“My cock is a reward, tasting me is a blessing. Fucking thank me for letting you suck me off.” He says between breaths. 

No response, just a wet sticky cough. But afraid of his reaction, you choke out with a full mouth, “thank you.”

You could promise that you felt the disgusted face he did, “what a filthy bitch didn't your parents teach you not to talk with a full mouth?” He says while non-stop grunting like a wounded animal. That's probably what he is anyways... A wounded animal.

Few seconds later, ropes of cum spurt out from his dick into my throat, milking it after the abuse it went through when he was hammering into my mouth. He pulls out from your mouth and tug his dick back into his boxers then his pull his pants back up.

“Swallow,” he orders. “Fucking swallow my cum.” Kai grabs your face and presses his fingers into your cheek flesh.

Desperately, all you wanted to do was spit it at him, right in his face, but you don’t. You actually swallow like the obedient little slut he said you are. His seed slides down your throat, alongside your dignity and maybe your hatred towards him. 

Your fingers reach to your face drying up the tears that ran down your cheeks and the saliva running down your chin along with lines of cum. Looking up to him, you see him breathing heavily. His body working hard to get the oxygen he needs from how hard you sucked him off.

He looks at you up and down, judging you, it can't be anything good.

You expected him to do something, whether beat you up, shoot you, the least of it is spit at you telling you how much of a filthy whore you are.

But he didn't, and you were grateful for that... For him..

The taste of him still lingers at the tip of your tongue. You lick your lips unintentionally and in the most discrete way possible. Last thing you want is having him know you liked it and boost his ego, not that it could possibly needed any more promotions. But he already knows, you're sure of it. The way you sucked the life out of him like it was the best thing you laid your lips on, you can't hide that from anyone.

He turns and walks to the door, completely silent. What could he be possibly thinking about...?

He pauses at the door, turning his head to see you, he’s sweaty.

“If I see you run your mouth about any of my work, newt time will be much worse.” He promises, which you thought was kind of cute.. Promises… 

Zipping up his fly, and slipping his gun in his pants, he finally turns away and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

[hopelesslys-world]

50 SHADES OF FUCKED UP | CH. 2

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, reader is kind of a bimbo, heavily detailed smut, basically porn, loss of virginity, harsh language, anger issues, stalking, obsession, jealousy, controlling behaviour, DOM-SUB themes, BDSM Expand considered to be portrayed with incorrect/poor etiquette, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse/assault, statutory rape.

Tell me if I missed anything...( As you can see most of the warnings will appear in future chapters. )

I apologize for any grammar mistakes...

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Y/M/N: Your Middle Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

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*𝘾𝙃𝙍𝙄𝙎𝙏𝙄𝘼𝙉'𝙎 𝙋𝙊𝙑*

┅┅

𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋. Was all I could focus on as soon as the elevator doors closed and she disappeared.

“Andrea,” I bark as I return to my office. “Get me Welch on the line, now.”

As I sit at my desk and wait for the call.

I look at the paintings on the wall of my office and Miss Y/L/N’s words drift back to me. “Raising the ordinary to extraordinary.” She could so easily have been describing herself.

My phone buzzes. “I have Mr. Welch on the line for you.”

“Put him through.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Welch, I need a background check.”

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•••

Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N

DOB: ( The Month and day you were born ). 1989, Montesano, WA

Address: 1114 SW Green Street, Apartment 7, Haven Heights, Vancouver, WA 98888

Mobile No: 360-959-4352

Social Security No: 987-65-4320

Bank: Wells Fargo Bank, Vancouver, WA:

Acct. No.: 309361: $683.16 balance

Occupation: Undergraduate Student WSU Vancouver College of Arts and Sciences English Major

GPA: 4.0

Prior Education: Montesano Jr. Sr. High School

SAT Score: 2150

Employment: Clayton’s Hardware Store, NW Vancouver Drive, Portland, OR (part-time)

Father: Franklin A. Lambert, DOB: Sept. 1, 1969, Deceased (The day before your birthday), 1989

Mother: Carla May Wilks Adams,

DOB: July 18, 1970

m. Frank Lambert March 1, 1989,

widowed (The day before your birthday), 1989

m. Raymond Y/L/N June 6, 1990,

divorced July 12, 2006

m. Stephen M. Morton Aug. 16, 2006,

divorced Jan. 31, 2007

Current Marriage Situation: m. Bob Adams April 6, 2009

Political Affiliations: None Found

Religious Affiliations: None Found

Sexual Orientation: Not Known

Relationships: None Indicated at Present

•••

I pore over the executive summary for the hundredth time since I received it two days ago, looking for some insight into the enigmatic Miss Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. I cannot get the damned woman out of my mind, and it’s seriously beginning to piss me off.

This past week, during particularly dull meetings, I’ve found myself replaying the interview in my head. Her fumbling fingers on the recorder, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the lip biting. Yes. The lip biting gets me every time.

And now here I am, parked outside Clayton’s, a mom-and-pop hardware store on the outskirts of Portland where she works.

You’re a fool, Grey. Why are you here?

I knew it would lead to this. All week…I knew I’d have to see her again. I’d known it since she uttered my name in the elevator. I’d tried to resist. I’d waited five days, five tedious days, to see if I’d forget about her. And I don’t do waiting. I hate waiting…for anything.

I’ve never pursued a woman before. The women I’ve had understood what I expected of them. My fear now is that Miss Y/L/N is just too young and that she won’t be interested in what I have to offer.

Will she? Will she even make a good submissive?

I shake my head. So here I am, an ass, sitting in a suburban parking lot in a dreary part of Portland. Her background check has produced nothing remarkable—except the last fact, which has been atthe forefront of my mind.

It’s the reason I’m here.

Why no boyfriend, Miss Y/L/N? Sexual orientation unknown—perhaps she’s gay. I snort, thinking that unlikely. I recall the question she asked during the interview, her acute embarrassment, the way her skin flushed a pale rose…I’ve been suffering from these lascivious thoughts since I met her.

That’s why you’re here. I’m itching to see her again—those eyes have haunted me, even in my dreams.

I haven’t mentioned her to Flynn, and I’m glad because I’m now behaving like a stalker. Perhaps I should let him know. No. I don’t want him hounding me about his latest solution-based-therapy shit.

I just need a distraction, and right now the only distraction I want is the one working as a salesclerk in a hardware store.

You’ve come all this way.

Let’s see if little Miss Y/L/N is as appealing as I remember.

Showtime, Grey.

A bell chimes a flat electronic note as I walk into the store. It’s much bigger than it looks from the outside, and although it’s almost lunchtime the place is quiet, for a Saturday. There are aisles and aisles of the usual junk you’d expect.

I’d forgotten the possibilities that a hardware store could present to someone like me. I mainly shop online for my needs, but while I’m here, maybe I’ll stock up on a few items: Velcro, split rings—Yeah. I’ll find the delectable Miss Y/L/N and have some fun.

It takes me all of three seconds to spot her. She’s hunched over the counter, staring intently at a computer screen and picking at her lunch—a bagel. Absentmindedly, she wipes a crumb from the corner of her lips and into her mouth and sucks on her finger.

My cock twitches in response.

What am I, fourteen? My body’s reaction is irritating. Maybe this will stop if I fetter, fuck, and flog her…and not necessarily in that order. Yeah. That’s what I need.

She is thoroughly absorbed by her task, and it gives me an opportunity to study her. Salacious thoughts aside, she’s attractive, seriously attractive. I’ve remembered her well.

She looks up and freezes. It’s as unnerving as the first time I met her. She pins me with a discerning stare—shocked, I think—and I don’t know if this is a good response or a bad response.

“Miss Y/L/N. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Mr. Grey,” she says, breathy and flustered. Ah, a good response.

“I was in the area. I need to stock up on a few things. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” A real pleasure.

She’s dressed in a tight T-shirt and pants, kind of disappointing, earlier this week all she wore was flattering mini skirts and sweaters.

She’s all long legs, narrow waist, and perfect tits. Her lips are still parted in surprise, and I have to resist the urge to tip her chin up and close her mouth.

I’ve flown from Seattle just to see you, and the way you look right now, it was really worth the journey.

“Y/N. My name’s Y/N. What can I help you with, Mr. Grey?” She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders like she did in the interview, and gives me a fake smile that I’m sure she reserves for customers.

Game on, Miss Y/L/N. “There are a few items I need. To start with, I’d like some cable ties.” My request catches her off guard; she looks stunned.

Oh, this is going to be fun. You’d be amazed what I can do with a few cable ties, baby.

“We stock various lengths. Shall I show you?” she says, finding her voice.

“Please. Lead the way.”

She steps out from behind the counter and gestures toward one of the aisles. She’s wearing Converse shoes.

Idly I wonder what she’d look like in skyscraper heels. Louboutins…nothing but Louboutins.

“They’re with the electrical goods, aisle eight.” Her voice wavers and she blushes…

She is affected by me. Hope blooms in my chest. She’s not gay, then. I smirk.

“After you.” I hold my hand out for her to lead the way. Letting her walk ahead gives me the space and time to admire her fantastic ass. Her long, thick hair keeps time like a metronome to the gentle sway of her hips. She really is the whole package: sweet, polite, and beautiful, with all the physical attributes I value in a submissive.

But the million-dollar question is, could she be a submissive? She probably knows nothing of the lifestyle—my lifestyle—but I very much want to introduce her to it. You are getting way ahead of yourself on this deal, Grey.

“Are you in Portland on business?” she asks, interrupting my thoughts. Her voice is high; she’s feigning disinterest. It makes me want to laugh. Women rarely make me laugh.

“I was visiting the WSU farming division. It’s based in Vancouver,” I lie. Actually, I’m here to see you, Miss Y/L/N.

Her face falls, and I feel like a shit.

“I’m currently funding some research there in crop rotation and soil science.” That, at least, is true.

“All part of your feed-the-world plan?” She arches a brow, amused.

“Something like that,” I mutter. Is she laughing at me? Oh, I’d love to put a stop to that if she is.

But how to start? Maybe with dinner, rather than the usual interview…now, that would be novel: taking a prospect out to dinner.

We arrive at the cable ties, which are arranged in an assortment of lengths and colors. Absentmindedly, my fingers trace over the packets. I could just ask her out for dinner. Like on a date?

Would she accept? When I glance at her she’s examining her knotted fingers. She can’t look at me… this is promising. I select the longer ties. They are more flexible, after all, as they can accommodate two ankles and two wrists at once.

“These will do.”

“Is there anything else?” she says quickly—either she’s being super-attentive or she wants to get me out of the store, I don’t know which.

“I’d like some masking tape.”

“Are you redecorating?”

“No, not redecorating.” Oh, if you only knew…

“This way,” she says. “Masking tape is in the decorating aisle.”

Come on, Grey. You don’t have much time. Engage her in some conversation. “Have you worked here long?” Of course, I already know the answer. Unlike some people, I do my research. For some reason she’s embarrassed.

Fuck, this girl is shy. I don’t have a hope in hell. She turns quickly andwalks down the aisle toward the section labeled Decorating. I follow her eagerly, like a puppy.

“Four years,” she mumbles as we reach the masking tape. She bends down and grasps two rolls, each a different width.

“I’ll take that one.” The wider tape is much more effective as a gag. As she passes it to me, the tips of our fingers touch, briefly. It resonates in my groin. Damn!

She pales. “Anything else?” Her voice is soft and husky.

I’m having the same effect on her that she has on me. Maybe… “Some rope, I think.”

“This way.” She scoots up the aisle, giving me another chance to appreciate her fine ass.

“What sort were you after? We have synthetic and natural filament rope…twine…cable cord…”

Shit—stop. I groan inwardly, trying to chase away the image of her suspended from the ceiling in my playroom. “I’ll take five yards of the natural filament rope, please.” It’s coarser and chafes more if you struggle against it…my rope of choice.

A tremor runs through her fingers, but she measures out five yards like a pro. Pulling a utility knife from her right pocket, she cuts the rope in one swift gesture, coils it neatly, and ties it off with a slipknot. Impressive.

“Were you a Girl Scout?”

“Organized group activities aren’t really my thing, Mr. Grey.”

“What is your thing, Y/N?” Her pupils dilate as I stare.

Yes!

“Books,” she answers.

“What kind of books?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. The classics. British literature, mainly.”

British literature? The Brontës and Austen, I bet. All those romantic hearts-and-flowers types.

That’s not good.

“Anything else you need?”

“I don’t know. What else would you recommend?” I want to see her reaction.

“For a do-it-yourselfer?” she asks, surprised.

I want to hoot with laughter. Oh, baby, DIY is not my thing. I nod, stifling my mirth. Her eyes flick down my body and I tense. She’s checking me out!

“Coveralls,” she blurts out.

It’s the most unexpected thing I’ve heard her say since the “Are you gay?” question.

“You wouldn’t want to ruin your clothing.” She gestures to my jeans.

I can’t resist. “I could always take them off.”

“Um.” She flushes beet red and stares down.

I put her out of her misery. “I’ll take some coveralls. Heaven forbid I should ruin any clothing.”

Without a word, she turns and walks briskly up the aisle, and I follow in her enticing wake. “Do you need anything else?” she says, sounding breathless as she hands me a pair of blue coveralls. She’s mortified, eyes still cast down. Christ, she does things to me.

“How’s the article coming along?” I ask, in the hope she might relax a little.

She looks up and gives me a brief relieved smile.

Finally.

“I’m not writing it, Bella is. Miss Clark. My roommate, she’s the writer. She’s very happy with it. She’s the editor of the newspaper, and she was devastated that she couldn’t do the interview in person.”

It’s the longest sentence she’s uttered since we first met, and she’s talking about someone else, not herself. Interesting.

Before I can comment, she adds, “Her only concern is that she doesn’t have any original photographs of you.”

The tenacious Miss Clark wants photographs. Publicity stills, eh? I can do that. It will allow me to spend time with the delectable Miss Y/L/N.

“What sort of photographs does she want?”

She gazes at me for a moment, then shakes her head, perplexed, not knowing what to say.

“Well, I’m around. Tomorrow, perhaps…” I can stay in Portland. Work from a hotel. A room at The Heathman, perhaps. I’ll need Taylor to come down, bring my laptop and some clothes. Or Elliot —unless he’s screwing around, which is his usual thing to do over the weekend.

“You’d be willing to do a photo shoot?” She cannot contain her surprise.

I give her a brief nod. Yeah, I want to spend more time with you… Steady, Grey.

“Bella will be delighted—if we can find a photographer.” She smiles and her face lights up like a cloudless dawn. She’s breathtaking.

“Let me know about tomorrow.” I pull my wallet from my jeans. “My card. It has my cell number on it. You’ll need to call before ten in the morning.” And if she doesn’t, I’ll head on back to Seattle and forget about this stupid venture.

The thought depresses me.

“Okay.” She continues to grin.

“Y/N!” We both turn as a young man dressed in casual designer gear appears at the far end of the aisle. His eyes are all over Miss Y/N Y/L/N. Who the hell is this prick?

“Er, excuse me for a moment, Mr. Grey.” She walks toward him, and the asshole engulfs her in a gorilla-like hug. My blood runs cold. It’s a primal response.

Get your fucking paws off her.

I fist my hands when she returns his hug.

They fall into a whispered conversation. Maybe Welch’s facts were wrong. Maybe this guy is her boyfriend. He looks the right age, and he can’t take his greedy little eyes off her. He holds her for a moment at arm’s length, examining her, then stands with his arm resting on her shoulder. It seems like a casual gesture, but I know he’s staking a claim and telling me to back off. She seems embarrassed, shifting from foot to foot.

Shit. I should go. I’ve overplayed my hand. She’s with this guy.

Then she says something else to him and moves out of his reach, touching his arm, not his hand, shrugging him off. It’s clear they aren’t close.

Good.

“Er…Paul, this is Christian Grey. Mr. Grey, this is Paul Clayton. His brother owns the place.”

She gives me an odd look that I don’t understand and continues, “I’ve known Paul ever since I’ve worked here, though we don’t see each other that often. He’s back from Princeton, where he’s studying business administration.” She’s babbling, giving me a long explanation and telling me they’re not together, I think.

The boss’s brother, not a boyfriend. I’m relieved, but the extent of the relief I feel is unexpected, and it makes me frown. This woman has really gotten under my skin.

“Mr. Clayton.” My tone is deliberately clipped.

“Mr. Grey.” His handshake is limp, like his hair. Asshole. “Wait up—not the Christian Grey? Of Grey Enterprises Holdings?”

Yeah, that’s me, you prick.

In a heartbeat I watch him morph from territorial to obsequious.

“Wow—is there anything I can get you?”

“Y/N has it covered, Mr. Clayton. She’s been very attentive.” Now fuck off.

“Cool,” he gushes, all white teeth and deferential. “Catch you later, Y/N/N.”

“Sure, Paul,” she says, and he ambles off to the back of the store. I watch him disappear.

“Anything else, Mr. Grey?”

“Just these items,” I mutter. Shit, I’m out of time, and I still don’t know if I’m going to see her again. I have to know whether there’s a hope in hell she might consider what I have in mind.

How can I ask her? Am I ready to take on a submissive who knows nothing? She’s going to need substantial training. Closing my eyes, I imagine the interesting possibilities this presents…getting there is going to be half the fun. Will she even be up for this? Or do I have it all wrong?

She walks back to the cashier’s counter and rings up my purchases, all the while keeping her eyes on the register.

Look at me, damn it! I want to see her face again and gauge what she’s thinking.

Finally she raises her head. “That will be forty-three dollars, please.”

Is that all?

“Would you like a bag?” she asks, as I pass her my AmEx.

“Please, Y/N.” Her name—a beautiful name for a beautiful girl—flows smoothly over my tongue.

She packs the items briskly. This is it. I have to go.

“You’ll call me if you want me to do the photo shoot?”

She nods as she hands back my charge card.

“Good. Until tomorrow, perhaps.” I can’t just leave.

I have to let her know I’m interested.

“Oh— and Y/N I’m glad Miss Clark couldn’t do the interview.” She looks surprised and flattered. This is good. I sling the bag over my shoulder and exit the store.

Yes, against my better judgment, I want her. Now I have to wait…fucking wait…again. Utilizing willpower that would make Elena proud, I keep my eyes ahead as I take my cell out of my pocket and climb into the rental car. I’m deliberately not looking back at her. I’m not. I’m not. My eyes flick to the rearview mirror, where I can see the shop door, but all I see is the quaint storefront. She’s not in the window, staring out at me.

It’s disappointing.

I press 1 on speed dial and Taylor answers before the phone has a chance to ring.

“Mr. Grey,” he says.

“Make reservations at The Heathman; I’m staying in Portland this weekend, and can you bring down the SUV, my computer, and the paperwork beneath it, and a change or two of clothes.”

“Yes, sir. And Charlie Tango?”

“Have Joe move her to PDX.”

“Will do, sir. I’ll be with you in about three and a half hours.”

I hang up and start the car. So I have a few hours in Portland while I wait to see if this girl is interested in me. What to do? Time for a hike, I think. Maybe I can walk this strange hunger out of my system.

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It's been five hours with no phone call from the delectable Miss Y/L/N. What the hell was thinking? I watch the street from the window of my suite at The Heathman. I loathe waiting. I always have.

The weather, now cloudy, held for my hike through Forest Park, but the walk has done nothing to cure my agitation. I’m annoyed at her for not phoning, but mostly I’m angry with myself.

I’m a fool for being here. What a waste of time it’s been chasing this woman. When have I ever chased a woman?

Grey, get a grip.

Sighing, I check my phone once again in the hope that I’ve just missed her call, but there’s nothing. At least Taylor has arrived and I have all my shit. I have Barney’s report on his department’s graphene tests to read and I can work in peace.

Peace? I haven’t known peace since Miss Y/L/N walked into my office.

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When I glance up, dusk has shrouded my suite in gray shadows. The prospect of a night alone again is depressing. While I contemplate what to do my phone vibrates against the polished wood of the desk and an unknown but vaguely familiar number with a Washington area code flashes on the screen.

Suddenly my heart is pumping as if I’ve run ten miles.

Is it her?

I answer.

“Er…Mr. Grey? It’s Y/N Y/L/N.”

My face erupts in a shit-eating grin.

Well, well. A breathy, nervous, soft-spoken Miss Y//L/N. My evening is looking up. “Miss Y/L/N. How nice to hear from you.” I hear her breath hitch and the sound travels directly tomy groin.

Great. I’m affecting her. Like she’s affecting me.

“Um—we’d like to go ahead with the photo shoot for the article. Tomorrow, if that’s okay. Where would be convenient for you, sir?”

In my room. Just you, me, and the cable ties.

“I’m staying at The Heathman in Portland. Shall we say nine thirty tomorrow morning?”

“Okay, we’ll see you there,” she gushes, unable to hide the relief and delight in her voice.

“I look forward to it, Miss Y/L/N” I hang up before she senses my excitement and how pleased I am. Leaning back in my chair, I gaze at the darkening skyline and run both my hands through my hair.

How the hell am I going to close this deal?

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Swimsuits & Sangria | dob

Word Count: 8.7k Rating: M Summary: All it takes is the hot summer sun and some boozy fruit to turn good friends into a little something more. | Also on Ao3! Warnings: friends to lovers, drunk flirting, mutual pining, SMUT (oral, fingering [F receiving], masturbation, praise kink, orgasm denial, unprotected sex) ⋅ ⋅  ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ 

You knew you loved Dylan when you were sitting at his poolside minibar, all sunglasses and swimsuits, watching him place a tiny umbrella in your drink. It was a Saturday, sometime past four and the heat beating from the sun had you sticky with a combination of SPF and sweat. Guests wouldn’t be arriving for at least another 45 minutes, but Dylan invited you to come early. You’d shown up two hours ago to make your sangria recipe as he requested. It took no longer than fifteen minutes to cut up the apples and citrus, then combine them with sugar and alcohol in a pitcher. It was placed in the fridge, ready to drink, at 3:09 and the party didn’t even begin until 5:30. Knowing your friends, that meant 6:15.

Dylan isn’t an idiot, he must’ve known he invited you far too early, but you didn’t want to feed into your own delusion. You’d met eight months ago in an ill-lit dive bar on trivia night in an unintended merging of yours and Tyler’s friend groups. Your team had managed to claw your way to third place by the end of the tournament, despite you shoo-ing Tyler’s phone away when he tried Googling answers. Dylan sat across from you on the innermost part of the booth, your friend Jade to your right. Two vodka lemonades in and you were struggling not to try to get a better look at his face. Despite the tug you felt to do so, you were terrified to really look at him, terrified that the tips of your ears would get red and your cover would be blown. You pulled the claw out of your hair and let it settle around your shoulders. You didn’t think it would be more than a silly drunk crush, primed by Deep Eddy and the fact you hadn’t gotten laid in weeks. Drunk enough to feel a tug in your abdomen when you watched his hands as he shuffled a deck of cards and dispersed them among you, but not dumb enough to try to do something about it.

The only difference now is that you could look at Dylan without feeling like you were going to fall over. Barely. Pregaming the party certainly wasn’t necessary, your sangria was boozy enough, but taste testing a new cocktail recipe devolved into three and now you’re both giggly and droopy-eyed under the California sun. 

“I think the last one was the best,” he sets the glass down on the counter and pushes it in your direction. You pull the straw to your lips and take a sip.

“Hm.” Another sip. “I don’t know. The amaretto really goes off in this.”

“No, no,” he tuts, reaching for the last glass you shared. “You need a reminder.” He swaps the glass of drink three with drink two in front of you, then takes a swig and makes a face. Maybe amaretto just isn’t the liqueur for him. 

“There’s, like, nothing in this, Dylan.”

“That’s definitely a taste-worth’s amount of liquid.” You look at him in disbelief. “Look, if you’re not gonna drink it I’m gonna go ahead and lick the glass clean. You have five seconds.”

“Shut up.” You take the glass and tilt it over your mouth, with no more than seven drops dripping onto your tongue. 

“So? Definitely better.” He grabs the cup from your hand and replaces it with the drink he dislikes. 

“Definitely good, but I made it so that’s not really news.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. You’re making it for me again soon.” He’s leaning on the bar counter in front of you on his forearms, eyeing the empty glass and seemingly genuinely debating if he should lick it clean.

“Maybe if you ask politely, Dylan.” You stir your drink with the straw before taking a big sip. 

“Sorry, baby.” He grabs your hand and leans closer to your face. “Could you, please, make me that delicious drink again sometime?”

“I could send you the recipe.” You take pleasure in the way his face twists to your response. You can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses.

He squeezes your hand. “No, it’s not the same. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You laugh out loud and push his glasses up to sit behind his hairline. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean.” He takes the glass in front of you and pulls his glasses back onto his face. “Ugh,” he says after taking a drink. “We gotta end on a better note than this. I’m making a tequila sunrise.” He passes the drink back to you.

“You’re gonna let me finish this on my own?”

“Yeah.” He grins, all straight teeth and wide lips, as he pats your arm before leaning down to get a bottle of Espolon from under the counter. 

“Dick,” you grumble as you pick up your drink and stand from the barstool. There was a set of four lounge chairs on the right side of the pool and you settle on the nearest one. On your phone, you connect to the Bluetooth speakers set up behind the bar where Dylan stood. The sound of your phone unexpectedly pairing to the speaker spooks him and you hear the ice tray fall onto the counter.

“You okay over there, butterfingers?” You take your glasses off and look in his direction.

“Yeah. Play something good, will ya?” He throws a broken piece of ice at you and misses. You put Microwave’s Much Love on shuffle, the sound of crunchy guitar blasting from the wall behind him. 

Dylan walks to the chairs, two drinks in hand. You are nearly done with your drink, but happily put it aside to accept a new one. 

“Are you trying to loosen me up right now?” You cock your eyebrow at him when he sits down. “I’m gonna be a whole drink ahead of you by the time I’m done with this.” You keep your eyes steady on his face while you drink. There’s so much grenadine you can’t even taste the tequila. 

“You make it sound like it’s easy.” His voice is even and his lips settle into their neutral position. You wish he would take his sunglasses off. 

“It’s hard? I don’t know about that.”

“Maybe boozing you up isn’t the preferred gameplan,” Dylan says flatly. He lets the words settle between you for a beat. “Let me finish your other drink.” He holds his hand out and you pass him the glass. 

“Thank you.”

You sit in silence together, soaking in the sun and occasionally humming along to the music. There’s no point in dissecting whatever the hell that was, not when Jade had already texted that her, Jenny, Marcus, and Tyler were en route. But… had he done it on purpose? Just a taste, less than a taste, but more than enough to pique the part of your psyche devoted to some of your most private fantasies. Your skin felt hot, but not because of the ninety degree dry heat or the sun, far lower in the sky than when you arrived, but of the perceived intentions of the man to your right. Your sunglasses are back on, but its thin frames don’t hide your side-eye look-over of him. It’s like he was expecting it, the way he immediately turns to look at you, head tilted. You surrender and shift your torso to face him head-on, too tipsy to feel embarrassed about getting caught peeking. Maybe it was delusional, but the tightness in your lower abdomen was as real as the straw dangling from his lips. Your reflection is small in the impenetrable black of his Ray-Bans and you allow yourself to dwell on the idea that he was enjoying a far greedier look at your body than yours at his.

“Were you going to say something?” His words interrupt your train of thought, which had gone entirely off the rails as you struggled to separate your thoughts into what was and was not appropriate to say aloud. He was right, you had turned to him so confidently, but with nothing else for him to work with.

“Can a girl just have a look?”

That seemed to catch him off guard, eyebrows high and mouth ticked into a loose smile. “Are you objectifying me right now?”

You let out a noise of dismissal and grab your cup from the small glass table between you. “You love it. From the right people.” The end of your sentence is punctuated by the sound of air sucking through your straw as you finish your drink.

“You think you’re ‘the right people’?” Dylan licks his lips and finally pulls his glasses up to the crown of his head. His taunt only makes your core beat harder, body entirely uncaring of what was real and was in your imagination. If he was setting up a game, you happily play along–and win.

“I’m pretty certain, Dyl.” You shift your body again to sit up and place your feet flat on the ground. “If it were up to me, I’d be the right person.” You gather the three empty glasses from the table and get up to bring them inside.

You don’t hear him stand to follow, but you see his reflection not too far behind yours in the sliding glass door. You can’t tell if you expected him to follow you back in or if you just hoped for it. Either way, you couldn’t help but be struck with a vision as you step into his home and the kitchen island comes into view: Your chest pressed flush to the cold granite, breasts spilling out of the tiny bikini top you embarrassingly wore just for him today. One foot on the floor while your balance is supported by your knee on a stool, spread and gasping underneath the pressure of his big palms on your hips and his cock slipping in and out through the side of your swim bottoms. You attempt to get to the dishwasher without stumbling, mind hazy from the drinks and the intrusive daydreams. Dylan’s long strides bring him to the counter at the same time as you, reaching around your hip to hold you steady. His other hand opens the dishwasher and pulls out the top tray. You work together to arrange the glasses among existing dishware, awkwardly clinking against one another in an uncoordinated symphony. Despite having an approximately equal number of drinks, he was composing himself much more than you thought you even were capable of right now. Was it risk it all territory? You were unsure. LA traffic was atrocious, but not bad enough you were willing to attempt to make your wish come true. There was no way you’d be able to sneak to the bathroom, even if your little hole was already pulsing and sensitive, clenching around nothing at the sensation of his fingers resting on your side. You could do it fast, you feel like you’re about to blow, but you’re haunted by the fear he’d know. Your eyes might give you away, or maybe the way you talked to him. Even with hands freshly washed, he might smell it, might be so curious as to ask what got you so worked up while you were here, alone together. What level of desperation caused you to slip away just to get off on your own. Fuck, honestly you might even want it. 

He shuts the dishwasher door, hand remaining on your hip. “Thank you for helping.”

You don’t respond to his words, focused on the light pink color spread across his cheeks and nose. “Sunburn?” You ghost your thumb over the area. He raises his eyebrows. You press down on the area, thumb a few centimeters below his eye and fingers framing the side of his face. His hair is thick, but soft against your fingertips. His skin turns from white back to pink as the blood rushes back into the region. “That hurt?”

“No.” The shade of pink deepens slightly. Not a sunburn. 

You stand there playing a game of chicken with one another, trying to read the situation as if his palms weren’t sliding up your waist and you hadn’t removed your hand from his face. You refused to be the one who did it, especially after today. 

The sound of the doorbell causes your hand to fall from his face, but he is unmoved. Dylan presses his lips together as he looks at you, then past you toward the direction of the door. 

“Be good and get the sangria out, okay, angel?” His hands release your sides and he gently shakes your chin before brushing past you to greet your friends. You let out a breath when he’s out the room, dnomi from his proximity to your face. Your task is simple and you get to it. Six small glasses are fished from the cabinet to the left of the fridge and you get the ice tray from the freezer. Two cubes go in each glass and you refill the tray before placing it back in the freezer. You hear everyone before you see them, Jen excitedly chattering about a date last night while Tyler laments about the drive up. Once the six glasses are full, you’re greeted by a hug from Jade as the crowd enters the kitchen. Dylan wordlessly takes the half-empty pitcher from the counter in front of you, unnecessarily reaching around you for it. You savor the moment where his hand rests on your skin, warm and firm against your stomach.

 You and Jade stay behind as the group moves through the room to the backyard, shuffled rock music blasting from the speaker connected to your phone. Once the room is empty, you turn to her in disbelief. “Today was weird. Like, good weird, but weird.”

“I saw… That man did not need to get so close to you to get that pitcher,” she laughs.

“He said… I don’t know, interesting things? Like, now-I’m-horny types of interesting. I don’t know, Jade, I literally–”

“I’ve been telling you! He wants it so bad and you…” She gestures to your swimsuit, “...look so fucking hot. I’m personally struggling with not motorboating you right now.”

You laugh and hope that you’re not both too delusional to read the situation. “Ah, well… We should go, they definitely think we’re talking shit.”

“We’re not?” She giggles and picks up both of your drinks. “Alright…”

The sun slowly sets as you lounge and watch your friends play 2v2 pool volleyball. Dylan and Jade are on one team, Tyler and Jenny on the other. Marcus is sitting to your left, scrolling through Twitter and occasionally tilting the phone in your direction to show you memes. Tyler and Jenny were winning, namely as a result of Dylan’s uncoordination. It was nearly a shut-out, with Marcus eventually playing ref and calling the game once it got ridiculous. 

Dylan is soaked, cold water dripping from his hair onto your chest as he leans over your shoulder post-game. Goosebumps appear on your skin from the sensation.

“Can I help you?” You turn your head to face him.

“Can you make me that drink? A consolation prize? Pretty please.” His right hand is on your neck, thumb rubbing up and down the bones of your spine.

“What do I get if I do?” You stand and he removes his hand from your neck. He follows you to the bar, roles reversed as he sits on the stool and you stand behind the counter.

“What do you want?”

You line up the drink components on the counter and grab two empty glasses that had previously held your sangria. “I think you’re smart enough to figure it out, babe.”

“Honey…” He’s tapping his fingers on the table. The drink comes together quickly and you push a cup in his direction. He’s looking at you contemplatively and you lean on your elbows, pushing your face closer to his. He’s coated in the yellow glow of the sunset, light peeking from behind his hair like a halo. His brown features are enhanced by the warm light, your stomach doing flips as you try not to stare. You’re close enough to smell the sunscreen on his face. “Play volleyball with me and we can discuss.”

You roll your eyes, disappointed in his response. “You’re kinda ass at volleyball, Dylan. I don’t like being on the losing team.”

“I promise you’ll win, angel.”

You raise your eyebrows in amusement. “You promise?”

“With me?” You pretend not to catch the way his eyes move between your face and your breasts for a moment. “Yeah.”

You lose against Tyler and Jade, as expected. However, with the few successful spikes you were able to pull off, Dylan exhibited terrible sportsmanship. He gloated, picking you up and parading you, cheering in celebration around your half of the pool. You weren’t afraid that he would drop you, but happily took the opportunity to cling to his shoulders and press your breasts to the side of his face as he lifted you up and out of the water. It wasn’t winning, not yet, but you were lying if his grip on your thighs didn’t feel delicious.

Marcus starts up the grill while Jen begins to chop kebab vegetables on the bar counter. Tyler and Jade vacate the pool to help with the meal while you and Dylan remain. You sit closely on the steps on the far side of the pool, sunglasses on even as the sun disappears behind the horizon.

“Should we help out?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

Dylan shrugs. “I’m providing the grill, the venue, and the propane. I don’t feel too bad about waiting a sec before stepping in.” His hand rests on your inner knee.

“Can’t say those things apply to me, Dyl.”

He smiles. “But you’re keeping me company. Counts for something.”

“When you’re already deeply indebted to me…” You place your hand on his forearm.

“There was no way in hell we were winning that game, baby, you gotta know that.” You purse your lips and he continues. “But you don’t want payment now, do you?” His hand moves further up your thigh and he moves his face closer to yours. “Not with all our friends here, right, angel?” You narrow your eyes at him. You’ve reached an impasse, heart and pussy pounding in sync with one another. His free hand cups your face and you can see all of your friends distracted on the other end of the yard in your periphery.

“Dylan,” you breathe. His hand moves further up your thigh, thumb rubbing circles into your upper inner thigh, mere centimeters from your sensitive center.

“You can be patient, can’t you?” His cheek is pressed to yours. You can’t tell if you're imagining the kisses scattered down your cheek. “You’ve been so good all day for me, yeah?”

You nod limply, but pinch his forearm lightly before dragging his hand from your thigh to the edge of your swim bottoms. 

“That’s not being patient.” His tone is firm, but the tips of his fingers dip into the fabric. “We could have avoided this entirely if you just said something, baby.” You glance back at the group, still enjoying their time and minding their business. “Would’ve called it all off if I knew…” You shift your hips so he has easier access to your core. His fingers find their home between your folds, exposing the extent of your pent-up arousal. You let out a soft sigh at his touch and he pulls his face from yours to look you in the eye. Dylan continues, rubbing up and down the entirety of your cunt slowly. “Have you been like this all afternoon, angel? Thinking about when you get to go home and fuck yourself?”

“Please,” you whimper, gripping his arm.

“Do you think of me? I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for months. And now… Now when everyone is here, you’re so desperate for me. It’s torture, baby. Do you want our friends to see? To watch you fall apart beneath me?” 

You shake your head, unable to form a coherent sentence. He moves his hand from your swim bottoms and places it back on your thigh. 

“Then be patient. You’re my good girl, yeah? I know you can do it.” Dyaln presses a chaste kiss to your lips and stands from the pool. He chats with Marcus as he heads the grill, then collects empty glasses to bring inside. Your head is spinning as you get up and make your way to the bathroom, being sure to detour your route to brush past him a little too closely.

It’s a mostly bare room, walls hosting a couple of pieces of Mets memorabilia and not much else. Your reflection looks far less wild than you feel internally, the warm lightbulb making you look a little jaundiced. Your heart is pumping faster than it has since you met Dylan and you steady yourself on the counter. Desperately, one hand snakes into your bottoms and you’re hit with a rush of sensitivity. A few targeted rubs cause your orgasm to wash over you like a dam break. Your fingers stutter when it hits, body falling over on itself while your lonely pussy clenches around nothing. Your bottom lip is between your teeth, muffling any cries that manage to escape. Dylan’s fingers and voice were nearly enough as is, but the reality of fucking him was dawning on you. It was mere hours away, but the idea of adding them to your 8-month pining streak wasn’t favorable. A sigh of frustration leaves your mouth as you stand there, looking in the mirror and pressing your thighs together. You piss and clean yourself up before making your way back outside. It couldn’t have been more than seven minutes since you stepped in the bathroom, but when you lock eyes with Dylan, you know you’re fucked. He raises his eyebrows at you like you’re both in on a joke. You avert his gaze, embarrassed of how quickly he clocked you, and sit to chat with Jade.

“Hey, so… What’s your plan for the rest of the night?”

“Subtle.” She gives you a knowing glance. “Jen’s got work in the morning and Marcus and Tyler are going to a concert tonight. So… we’ll probably head out not too late after dinner. Got plans? More pool canoodling?”

“Fuck off.” You clear your throat. “Well, yeah. Actually. I think.”

She grins at you. “I’m tellin’ ya, your tits look–”

“Food’s ready!” Tyler calls from the grill, clicking the tongs together.

You gather around where the plate of kebabs sat on the bar counter, across the circle from Dylan. Over dinner you learn they’re seeing A Day to Remember tonight, followed by an apology for needing to dip so soon.

“No problem, man,” Dylan assures, but he’s looking at you when he says it. 

Once full, everyone helps by collecting plates and glasses and stacking them near the dishwasher. Marcus loads the dishes in while you, Jen, and Jade change into dry undergarments and fresh clothes. Tyler lost, found, and lost his keys again within the span of three minutes, causing everyone to search tables and between couch cushions. Dylan’s antsy, grumbling about how Tyler’s shit memory is the weed’s fault, until Jenny finds them. Once his keys are in-hand, your friends gather their things and file up at the door to leave. Maybe it was because you were experiencing the same anticipation, but Dylan seemed to rush the group out, saying something about getting to the concert in time to get merch without ridiculously long lines. 

You go to the kitchen, leftover alcohol-soaked fruit calling your name from the empty sangria pitcher. You hear everyone bid their farewells one at a time as you fish a fork from the drawer near the sink. The citrus was cut a little too thin for your liking, courtesy of Dylan’s knife skills, and slipped off the tip of the fork each time you tried impaling it. It’s fine, the apple chunks absorb wine best anyway. You are on chunk three by the time you hear the door shut.

Once the door is locked, Dylan makes his way into the room and points in your direction.

“You,” he says, walking towards you.

“Me.” You poke into a piece of apple and wave the fork in his direction. He doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for your shenanigans, but you poke the fruit between his lips anyway. His face doesn’t move and he grabs your wrist to tilt it away from his face. You accept your defeat and pop the apple chunk into your mouth instead. No need to waste it. 

“What did I say about being patient?” His hands rest comfortably on your hips and he pulls you close. You don’t know what you were expecting, maybe some more back and forth, but it certainly wasn’t getting straight to the point.

“I’ve been patient, Dylan.” You put the fork down and place your hands on his biceps. Your eyes are wide as you look up at him, hoping to charm him into fucking you now.

“Mmm… I don’t know.” He starts to press kisses to your neck. “You were in the bathroom for a while…”

Your face flushes with blood. “It was like, five minutes. Dylan… please.” You avoid verbally confirming his suspicions of what you were doing in that time. 

“You don’t need to hide from me.” He bites down hard enough to leave a mark, then licks the sting away. “But that’s not fair, is it?”

“Dylan.”

He pulls back from your neck to look at you, brown eyes dark under the soft lamp light. “Do you want to cum tonight?” It catches you by surprise, wide eyed watching him closely. “I said, that’s not fair, is it?” You blink, nod, then furiously shake your head. “Let me hear it.”

“No, it’s not fair. I’m sorry.” It takes everything not to squeeze your thighs together for some relief.

“Haven’t even had a taste yet and you’re helping yourself. I thought you were going to be good for me.”

“I am, Dylan, I promise.” Your hand moves from his arm to the nape of his neck, pulling at the short hairs that reside there. The game continues, and you can’t tell if you’re winning or losing right now. 

His lips press messily on yours. One of his hands travels from your torso to cup your core outside of your shorts. “You gonna keep touching yourself, baby? Or are you gonna let me handle it?”

“I’m gonna let–” your breath catches when he applies hard pressure over your center. “You, please.” You’re fighting the urge to pass out, breaths shallow and labored. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted, all along? You could’ve told me, angel; I would’ve done it for you.” He’s reaching under your shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your stomach as his fingers find one of your nipples. “You think I’ll live up to your imagination? Tell me, baby, how hard do you think I can make you cum?” You let out a strangled groan, senses overwhelmed by his hands and voice. “Wish I thought of getting you hot and half-naked in my yard sooner. Didn’t know that’d be what did it.”

“At the risk of getting another lecture on patience, could you politely get on with it?”

He removes his hand from your cunt to hold your jaw. His lips are in a sweet pout. “Honey… you’ve got a lot to learn.” You’re unmoving, unsure of what he has planned. “Tell me what you were thinking about.” All the blood in your body feels like it’s rushing between your face and your pussy, back and forth as the words fall from his lips. His eyes are unrelenting, holding your gaze like a deer caught in a snare.

“Well…” you let out a shaky breath. Your hands spread to the kitchen island behind you as you speak, “Us, right here.” Dylan’s still stoic, seemingly unaffected by your confession. The game was just getting fun, even if your mind was screaming to tap out, go home, figure out another way. You can hear your heartbeat conducting through the bones in your head and feel it pumping all the way to your fingertips. You’re trying to focus on the man whose face is mere inches from yours, the way he’s touching you, but the thick, heavy pump in your chest overwhelms your senses.

“Go on.” His hand moves from your jaw to your collarbone. “I know that’s not all.”

You’re trying to hide the tremble in your arms as you lean back against the edge of the countertop. “I guess…” You slowly turn 180 degrees, palms flat against the granite and his hot chest flush to your back. His hands remain on your body as you move and travel down your back. They land exactly where you’d envisioned they would. “Something kind of like this.” You raise yourself on your toes, pushing your ass into his crotch and leaning your elbows on the counter for support. 

“Kind of?” One hand moves up your back underneath your shirt while the other fiddles with the elastic on your shorts. 

“Less clothes, maybe?”

He laughs for the first time since your friends left. “I think I got that part.” His hands move again, this time settling on your outer upper thighs, gripping the area where your legs meet your torso. You don’t know what else to say. He is toying with you, seeing how much humiliation you can bear before begging for some relief. “Feeling shy? That all you wanna tell me?” You gulp and nod. Hopefully it’s enough. His left arm wraps around your torso to lift you to press tight against his chest. His right hand is still firmly on your pelvis, pulling you to rest on his semi. “You don’t need these, do you?” Dylan’s right hand moves to your front, fingers just barely dipping past your waistband.

“No.” It comes out far shakier than you intended.

“Take them off, then.” He releases you from his grip and you’re left supporting your own weight. Your arms and legs feel frail, like they should snap at any moment. You can sense his frame looming behind you, just far enough that you’re unable to touch him. Your clammy fingers wrap around your waistband and gently slide the shorts over the curve of your ass and down your legs. They fall to the floor with a gentle swish. After all the dreaming, three quarters of a year’s worth of thoughts kept between you and your bedside drawer, you feel unsure of what to do next. The anxieties of fumbling your course of action disappear as you hear Dylan drop to his knees and use a firm hand to spread you apart. You’re trying to steady your breathing, or at least reduce the noise you’re making, as he pulls your underwear to the side. “Hm.” Hm? “You put these on, like, half an hour ago. Already pr’soaked through.” Your head falls into your hands.

“Dylan.”

“Yeah, angel?” His fingers are gentle in their prodding, spreading your arousal to the outer edges of your cunt. “You’re real pretty.” He glides his wet thumb once over your clit, causing you to twitch into him.

“Please.”

“Please what?” He taps your leg and pulls a stool from your left. You’re fucking kidding. You appreciate the extra support as you lift your knee to the plush seat. With the new angle, he’s able to fully spread you with two fingers.

“I–anything, Dylan, please just touch me.” He blows air over your sensitive core and as much as you try to restrain yourself, your body betrays you. Your hole pulsates at the stimulus, as minor as it was. He circles your entrance with his thumb like he’s trying to calm the area, hysterically clenching and grasping, begging for his fingers. 

“I know, it’s not fair.” He pulls your underwear back to its proper place and pulls your leg down to stand. This is retribution. The game is sick, you’ve come to learn.

He stands up and turns you around, fingers holding your hips beneath your waistband. Your hands are pressed to his stomach. “You’re evil.” He smiles at that, proud of his ability to get you so distraught with nothing more than a few words and fingers.

“You don’t mean that.” He moves a hand to cradle your face. 

You nod. “I do mean it.” For all your begging to God to make this moment happen, you still need to beg Dylan to give it to you. 

“I keep my promises, baby.” He helps you sit up on the counter and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna win.” He kisses you deep and slow, strong hands shifting your hips to hang off the edge of the granite. One of your arms is locked around his neck holding you flush to him. Your right hand ghosts the waistband of his swim trunks before pulling the drawstring out of its knot. He grunts when your hand brushes his clothed cock as you pull the shorts down his legs. He pulls your hands from his body and holds them on the countertop behind you, pressing himself into your core as he licks the inside of your teeth. Your ankles lock behind his back and press him further into you. You groan into each other's mouths as you rock against each other. He’s calculated in his thrusts, snapping his hips right as your cunt rocks over him. The friction against your sensitive little nub pulls the strings in your abdomen tight, soon to snap. You attempt to break free from his grasp to no avail. Your movements stutter as every swipe feels like it’s shooting electricity up your spine.

“Ah, please, harder. Please!” Your legs tremble as your orgasm begins to overcome you. Dylan steps back from your body abruptly, the force of his movement unclasping your ankles and leaving them without support. Your hands are still held flat on the counter, keeping you from touching him. His eyes are dark, lips swollen and open from his labored breathing. You’re frustrated, shaking and reeling from your almost-completion. “What the f–!”

“Don’t move.” He pulls his hands from yours. He moves your thighs to spread you open for him again. He palms your cunt over your underwear, pressing firmly as you squirm beneath him. “You think I’m gonna make this easy on you?” 

“Clearly not,” you huff. 

“You haven’t made it easy on me either, angel.”

“Is this some sort of sick revenge for you?” You regret your rebuttal as soon as he stops the circling of his palm.

“You love it. Swear to God…” He pulls your underwear aside again, reviewing his work. You are glistening everywhere, cunt clenching and dripping for him. “Just need the right person.” He places the underwear back where it belongs. “Are you feeling tired, angel? Spent all afternoon lounging in the sun and now here I am, taking care of you, and you’re still unhappy?” He caresses your face, but keeps his hard dick away from your core. “Tell me, baby, do you really think I’m evil?”

“No.” You’re overwhelmed, and maybe he is evil, but you have one goal in mind. “I want you to fuck me,” you say bluntly. 

He chuckles. “You only had to say so.”

He pulls you off the counter and tugs you to his bedroom with him, leaving your discarded shorts on the kitchen floor. He’s not so coy here, open mouth on yours and hands tugging to remove your shirt. You assumed it’d be more of a marathon than a sprint with Dylan, but he had you completely naked, lying on the bed within two minutes. He was a gentleman, of course, stripping himself of his underwear to match your level of vulnerability. You try to keep your focus on his face, but his red-hot cock pressing into your thigh is understandably making it difficult.

“You’re gonna tell me what you like, okay angel?” He slips a finger between your folds, collecting your wetness and rubbing your clit vertically like he was in the pool. You nod. “How’s that?”

“Mm… it’s good.”

“Just good?”

“A little to the right maybe? My right?” He shifts slightly, finding the spot you use to make yourself cum. You cover your mouth with your hand as he uses the tip of his finger to gently brush over the area, sending shockwaves through your body. You were already so sensitive from your denied orgasm, you had no clue what you were capable of handling.

“Better.” It’s not a question, but you nod anyway. He continues, kissing up your neck and telling you to relax. “Remember, I got you. I’m gonna make you feel good, okay? I’m here to make you feel good.”

“Ah..!” You twitch away from his hand from the hypersensitivity. “Uh-huh. You got me.”

His finger moves from your clit to your pulsing little hole, circling it and spreading your wetness slowly. It wasn’t going to make you cum on its own, but it still felt divine. “Can I taste?”

“Please,” you beg. 

“So needy for me.” He bites your breast on his way down. “My needy baby. How long have you been dreamin’ about me, angel?” He’s kissing your inner thigh, waiting for a response to his question.

You’re honest. “Forever. Since I met you.” The words rush out with your breath, uneven. You sit up and look at him, big brown eyes and pink lips mere inches from where you wanted him.

“Forever,” he mumbles into your skin. “You did a good job keeping it to yourself for the first few months.”

“I’m glad I don’t anymore.”

“And why’s that?” He’s smiling up at you, far too goofy for being between your aching legs. 

“Ugh. I take it back.” You groan and lie back down on the bed. 

“Okay, okay…” He taps your clit with his thumb. “You still gotta tell me what you like, okay?”

“Okay.” You reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair as he swipes his broad, flat tongue over your cunt. You can’t help the noise that comes out of your mouth, nor the clench of your pussy that he certainly felt against his tongue. He circles your clit, saliva mixing with your own arousal and creating wet noises that are sure to reappear in the fantasies that result from this encounter. You scratch his scalp lightly. “I think vertical is a little better.” He grunts and changes his technique. You squirm at the feeling of his hot, wet tongue pressing onto you, eating like it was his first meal in months. His left arm is wrapped around your leg, hand resting on your lower stomach pulling you to his face. You’re unable to move under his grip, every twitch or flail impeded by his strength. His tongue travels further down to your hole, slipping in and out of it as excruciating intervals. It feels good on its own, but great when coupled with the way his nose brushes against your clit with every pump. “That’s good. That’s so good,” you gasp. Your forearm is clamped between your teeth, muffling your cries. 

“You’re close?” The vibration of his words against your cunt cause you to twitch into his mouth. 

“Uh-huh.”

“I can feel it.” You tug on his hair, encouraging him to allow you to finish. The way his tongue licks up your pussy, pushing and rubbing firmly against your clit, elicits a choked moan. Again, he pulls back suddenly. You thrash your hips in frustration, letting go of his hair to grip the sheets beneath you. Before you’re able to complain, he presses his wet lips to yours. His tongue tastes like you, tangy and familiar. He settles between your legs, pressing his cock between your folds. Dylan rocks across you, never moving from your lips. The only noises in the room are the wet ones coming from your two points of connection. To regain some semblance of control, you snake your hand down between you to grab his cock. It’s already well lubricated from the way it was nestled in your cunt. He bites down on your lip when you grasp him, losing control for a moment and fucking into your tight fist. Your hand twists around him so your fingers are pressing into the most sensitive part of his cock and your knuckles brush against your core. He’s gasping and biting at your neck as you pump him, clearly wound up after your afternoon of back-and-forth. He’s not distracted for long, as the sweet symphony of your cries tip him off to exactly what you’re doing. “That definitely counts as touching yourself, angel,” he says while pulling your hand away from where your bodies meet. You’re frustrated, body brought so close and kept so far from your release for what felt like hours.

“Can you blame me?” Your breathing is heavy; your eyes are looking into his for an ounce of mercy. He only holds your gaze for a moment before sitting back on his knees and scanning your body, saving its image for his own lonely nights. 

“No,” he says, caressing your thigh. “Definitely not. Roll over.” You do, making the decision not to press your hips into the bed for a twinge of relief. Dylan is being needlessly cruel, but the end has to be near. You can be good; you can do it for him, give him what he likes. You never thought you’d see this side of him, domineering, competent, and so incredibly sexy. It was almost worth the eight months of fumbling and awkward quasi-flirting–given that he actually lets you finish. The game was fun, but you both knew the feeling of clenching around him with stars behind your eyelids was infinitely better. He sighs as he pulls your hips up off the bed, finally ready to play fair. Gently, he pulls your legs apart. His fingers are no longer exploratory; his purpose is explicit as he swipes his thumb against your clit at a casual pace. His middle finger circles your hole so lightly it feels like a tickle. “This okay?” He presses onto your entrance, but doesn’t push in. “Jus’ wanna see…”

“Yes,” you say, voice muffled by the sheets pressing against your face. 

“Wanna know what you feel like,” he continues, talking to nobody but himself. His middle finger slides in easily. “Jesus.” Your body is ecstatic to finally have something to tremble around. “Why y’been keeping this from me, baby?” He pumps slowly, rotating his wrist to push down on your g-spot. His thumb still rubs across your clit in an almost excruciating manner. You’re lubricated and loose enough to allow him to put his index finger into the mix, your cunt grasping and twitching around him. 

“I could say the same thing,” you sigh. Your arms are outstretched to hold onto the mattress for support as you move your hips to softly fuck onto his fingers. He’s motionless, fingers curled and allowing you to use him for your pleasure. It’s good, it’s building, but it doesn’t fill you right. “Dylan?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not gonna let me cum on your fingers, are you?”

“Absolutely not.” His thumb picks up speed on your clit, continuing to play with you, to challenge you. Your breath hitches, sheets between your teeth. 

“Please, Dylan, I think I’ve learned my lesson.” You clench around his fingers, hoping to entice him for just long enough to want to know how his cock would feel inside of you. A soft groan escapes his throat. You’re warm and soft and wet, perfect and ready for his pretty pink dick. “I need you to fill me up. Please, I can’t–“ You’re interrupted by your own pleasure, shooting it’s way up your body as he presses into your g-spot and taps your clit in unison. 

“You need me that bad? Been waiting for so long, haven’t you?” He purrs and removes his hands from your center. Despite the shakiness in your thighs and the beat of your cunt, relief washes over you. 

“Please. So bad.” Dylan pushes your lifted hips back down onto the bed and lies overtop of you.

“Okay,” he says while tucking your stray hair behind your ear. He’s looking at you–really looking at you for the first time since your friends left. You wish you knew what his eyes were searching for. He’s the same Dylan he’s always been, but it’s different. His tousled hair was your doing, as were his kiss-bitten lips and the haziness behind his eyes. You soak it all in on the off-chance this is a fluke, that you’ll never find yourself here again. He rubs the underside of your thigh as you hook your ankles over his back. “Are you ready?” His tone is softer than it’s been in nearly an hour. 

“Yes.” He aligns himself with your entrance and gently presses into you. 

“Ah, relax…” He braces himself on one hand, placed to the left of your head. His other hand grips your side. He continues to inch himself into you, eyes watching your face to gauge your comfort. You’re gripping his shoulders, trying not to dig your nails into his skin. “It’s okay, relax, I got you.” 

“Okay, okay,” you whisper as he bottoms out inside of you. He grunts, pressing in as much as he can and holding it, pubic mound pressing to your clit. He partially pulls out, then pushes himself back in. Air escapes through your teeth as you cling harder to him, no longer giving a damn if you mark him or not. He fills you just like you hoped he would: to the brim until it stung with pleasure.

“Fuck.” Dylan finds a comfortable pace to allow you to get used to him, mumbling expletives and replacing his faded bite mark on your neck. “So wet for me.” You use the leverage from your locked ankles to meet his thrust midway, pushing him even deeper into your core. You squeak with every scrape against your g-spot, bottom lip clamped firmly between your teeth. His hips quicken their pace as his lips press to yours. You feel a shift behind your head, then Dylan pulls back. “Up,” he says, tapping your hip. He slides a pillow, silk case and all, underneath your ass to provide him with better access. He pushes your leg up so your knee is near your head and holds it there as he begins to roll into you. His head pokes into your g-spot at the same cadence of the skin of his lower stomach scraping against your sensitive clit. Your pussy clings to him each time he pulls out; its only purpose is to milk him dry. The adam’s apple in his throat bobs as he watches himself disappear within you. “Jesus Christ, how are you still so tight?” It rushes out of him in one breath. You tug him back down, needing to feel his chest on yours as he brings you, finally, to your completion. Every thrust feels like it’s stretching the rubber band in your stomach further and further, its elasticity painfully endless. 

“Ah, yeah, like that.” You can feel your cunt gripping him, pulling at him as he hammers into you. “Don’t stop, please, Dylan, please,” you cry, holding on for dear life as his thrusts begin to shake the bed.

“I know, I know,” he coos. “Me too, baby.” All his weight is on the elbow by your head, spare hand on your hip to hold you still as he stutters into you. The pit of your stomach feels like you’re on a roller coaster lift, up, up, up until–

“Oh, my God.” Your eyes screw shut when it hits you, the pulsations of your cunt reverberating up your torso and through your limbs. Your back arches uncontrollably, stomach pressed to his. Your heart is beating out of your chest, wet and heavy like the cock still pistoning in and out if you. 

“You’re so good. Fuck, you’re so good.” It’s muffled in your ears, your overstimulated body focusing on the stretch of his dick and the shakiness in your thighs. He presses himself fully into you and holds it there, a yelp escaping from your lips as he does. “Where?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you choke out. He sits up as he pulls out quickly, though you wouldn’t mind if he didn’t. Next time, maybe. Before he’s able to finish, you grasp and pump him from where his cock rests on your mound. It takes one tight squeeze before he twitches in your fist and ribbons of cum adorn your stomach. He’s holding onto your knee for support, breathing labored. You’re flat on your back, sinking into the mattress to center yourself and organize your thoughts. 

“You okay?” He leans over you again, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You nod, a small smile gracing your face as you notice the sweat on his brow. He grins and places another kiss on your mouth before getting up and retrieving a towel from the en suite. He wipes your pussy first, needing to hold you still as the feeling of the towel is still too much, then delicately cleans up your stomach. The towel gets tossed to the floor, a responsibility for another time. The room is dark, but he finds you anyway, pulling you to his chest. “Was it worth the wait?” You laugh, unsure if he was referring to the day or the year. 

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” He feigns offense at your response.

“I need a few more data points before I’m sure.” He scoffs.

“Oh, fuck off,” he laughs and pulls you tighter to him. “You don’t need some elaborate ploy to get me again, baby. I saw you–no, felt you cum so hard; no need to be coy with me.”

“Okay…” You fiddle with the hairs on the back of his neck. “Definitely worth it, but I want it again. And I don’t wanna wait.”

“I can make that happen,” he says while ghosting kisses on your shoulder. You lie comfortably together, skin-on-skin listening to each other breathe. Your mind is a haze of the day’s activities, unsure of what memories you can truly believe.

“Dylan?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“What did you mean when you said I did a good job ‘keeping it to myself for the first few months’?” He laughs and his hand travels down to rest on your ass.

“God, see this is why I couldn’t do anything. You tried making out with me on, like, four separate occasions at Jenny’s birthday party. Very persistent.” You groan as you remember, or more, don’t remember that evening. The first thing you know about Jenny’s party was walking in, already riding the high of a successful pregame, with a bottle of tequila tied with a bow for her, and taking a required shot at the door. The second thing you remember is waking up in Dylan’s spare bedroom the next morning. This was three months ago.

“That… explains a lot.” You hadn’t noticed at the time, far too in awe of Dylan’s attention, but he did act differently as the spring transitioned to the summer. He would sit next to you at group brunch, suggest outings with just the two of you, occasionally get a little handsy, and start peppering pet names in his conversations with you until it became second nature. You weren’t delusional, at least not in the ways you thought you were.

“It’s okay. It’s cute.” He rubs your thigh as he speaks. “It’s funny though, you refused to get in an Uber with Jade to take you home. You literally wouldn’t let go of my hand.”

“So fucking embarrassing.” You cover your eyes with your hand as you cringe at the thought. 

“Look where it got you, though.” He pulls your hand from your face and presses a kiss to your lips.

well. that’s it. hope u enjoyed <3 i have some (many) ideas for continuing this soooo maybe that’ll show up soon ;) pls feel free to leave me feedback, like, n reblog! 

[digenerate-trash]

Do a remaster on the Yan bailey smut but this time it’s DOB yan bailey please and thank you 💕☺️💕

God, I want all of the Dob characters so badly (dob harper is so disgusting I wanna fuck him until I bleed out.) Back to badly tho!!!

AMAB Bailey | GN PC

Bailey has always been kind of a mystery. He's got a lot of things that a caretaker wouldn't have. Nice clothes and, a polite demeanor. He's always well put together and calm. It's nothing like you would imagine someone surrounded by children to be. He's so kind and clean that you're not even sure why some of the more deranged threats you've heard around town threaten to send people to "the caretaker"

Bailey is so kind to you that the moment you're in his office begging for any kind of job he agrees. You tell him you're new to cleaning and general care but you'll do your best. And to your surprise, he believes you.

Every hour he checks on you. He makes light conversation with you and pats your little head. You always smile at him when he does these things it makes you both feel nice.

Near the end of your first shift, you saw him in the kitchen. His gloves are shoved haphazardly into his back pocket and his sleeves rolled up to the elbow as he portions and cuts bits of meat for a stew. His hands are a bit shaky his knuckles are covered in bruises, fresh ones. He seems a little frustrated so you offer to help.

He steps aside letting you... and from then on you are allowed to stay even past dinner. Bailey still pays you for your time as long as you eat in his office with him.

The first meal you both had was strange. He kept staring. Every spoonful of stew was good but slightly strange as Bailey watched. It's like he was waiting for something to happen... you could never figure it out. But he got less strange after that. Every meal since he's been staring less and less. You're grateful for it.

Getting paid by Bailey is always a journey though. He jokes and laughs and makes conversation with you. It's clear he's stretching out this time he's supposed to be paying you for your work. One time he even joked that if you married him he'd take care of the loan sharks that were terrorizing your family....

You never mentioned them to him before...

Bailey's advances only get less subtle as the days and weeks go on. It's good work. You get a meal every day. The orphans call you "mom" sometimes and Bailey refers to you as his spouse. Every day there's meat on the table and you get enough money each week to keep you and your family above water. But never enough to quit your job with Bailey...

And then it happens. You bring up the wrong question while you're helping make dinner. But how were you supposed to know?

"Where do you get all this meat anyway?" You ask offhandedly. Sure you're curious but you are not pressed for the answer. In your mind, it doesn't matter. Bailey can afford it. So why wouldn't he?

Bailey twitches a bit he smirks when he tilts his head at you. "I cut my meat. I save every bit. Makes things cheaper." He explains but he pauses too long between every sentence. Like an inside joke, no one is laughing along too.

You try to laugh it off but Bailey gets closer. "You want to see it?" Bailey asks. But you back away from him. You don't.

Bailey reaches out to pet your head just like the softer moments before. "You are basically part of the family. I can tell you."

Family. That dreaded word again. Bailey brings it up in front of the orphans far too often for your liking. You don't need to be Bailey's family. You have your own.

Bailey grips your hips before shoving you into the counter. It hits your lower back stunning you a bit. You didn't see this coming- his gloved hands press bruises into your hips.

He leans down to kiss you forcefully his mouth tastes of blood. So much blood that it's got to be unhealthy. You choke as his tongue presses over yours your mouth is coated in his saliva.

Bailey pulls away from you a bit before he hooks his hand into your waistband and shoves it down exposing your body to the warm air of the kitchen. Bailey hoists you up onto the counter with a surprising amount of strength before dipping his face between your legs to lick at you.

Bailey is covering you in his drool no part of your groin is left untouched as he licks and bites away between your thighs. You trembling now your mouth still tastes like blood and you bite back moans and little sounds as Bailey makes sure you feel thoughily violated.

It feels like hours before he pulls away from your hips. He adjusts them as close to the edge of the counter as he can before he unzips his pants letting his cock spring out and tease at your wet hole. He pets your head lightly before grabbing you by the back of your neck and holding you tightly before thrusting in. Bailey is so rough with your body that it hurts. No matter how hard he tried to prepare you. Bailey is big...

He leans in still holding you by the scruff before whispering to you. "You're mine now." He lets out a dark chuckle before he continues his thrusting is getting worse. The counter rattles with every movement and what's worse is Bailey seems to be enjoying himself too much. You tried to be nice and accept his help. You just wanted a job. You just wanted things to be easy for once

You whimper and whine as he keeps pressing into you your body feels cheap and used as Bailey holds you tightly Bailey rubs the outline of his dick in your stomach with his thumb. He's proud as he feels it making you look.

when bailey finally cums inside you he keeps your hips pressed tightly against his. Every twitch of his dick is felt by your over-sensitive walls. And bailey laughs a bit when he finally pulls out he grabs your leg keeping your spread open as he looks at your hole dripping his cum onto the counter.

"You look good enough to eat-"

[plzfeedmebread]

Revenant - Masterlist

Pairing: Colonel Miles Quaritch x Female! Wife! Reader Warnings/Tags: R18 - minors DNI, hurt, comfort, eventual smut, major character death, violence, murder, betrayal, romance, pregnancy, (chapters will have additional warnings) Author's Notes: Something I've been cooking up along side Providence!

Summary: For nearly two decades, you have been a trained assassin, part of a group known as The Order. It wasn't a glamourous work, but it put food on the table, and made you strong enough to protect your younger twin brothers from any and every harm. But an unexpected contract falls into your lap, sending you light years away to an alien world, and an alien body, to kill an alien man.

Chapter Index:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 (coming soon)

**more story info below**

Reader Info:

Name: [Y/N] Sully Age: 24 (as of 2144), 30 when she arrives on Pandora DOB: xx / xx / 2120 Bio: Older sister of Jake and Tom Sully, 6 years their senior. At the age of 10, she is conscripted by The Order; an elite group of hitmen/assassins. Her demeanor on the field, and the one she presents in front of others, are almost two separate beings. She is calm, collect, perhaps even cold when on the job. Around others she is bright eyed and friendly; smiles were the only thing she ever wore in front of Jake and Tom. Inspired by the character Yor Forger.

---

Random Story Notes:

Quaritch is born in the year 2103 - making him 17 years your senior.

I will be pulling random science stuff out my ass

I may or may not alter the actual timeline of events - I'm getting my info from the wiki in terms of what year stuff happens.

---

Perm Tag List: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww

[officialgleamstar]

Hiiii Trav!!! (: because I love ask games like this (and bc my asks are currently off) I'm gonna give you four characters

Silas Flint, Suzette, Bison Billie, and Willowfine for you to break down

ask game

cracks my knuckles. hi egg :3 saved this one for last (well it was last, just got another one lol) because you sent four, you absolute madman XD tone: positive. i love talking about The Character(s)

i will drop this under a cut so it doesn't get too long though LOL

Silas Flint

How I feel about this character

he's my favorite oxventure character of all time! i dont even know how to explain it further than that, honestly. he's my favorite oxventure character and i giggle like a schoolgirl every time mike does his voice

All the people I ship romantically with this character

edie! just edie. edie edie edie, truly one of the m/f queer couples of all time. if bountybelle has no fans, then i am dead in the ground

My non-romantic OTP for this character

garnet :D theyre queerplatonic partners. i know this in my heart. youve convinced me

My unpopular opinion about this character

SILAS FLINT DOES NOT FUCK sorry but he DOESNT i just cant wrap my head around that concept. i will still read all of the smut with him in because oxventure writers are so good but hes so asexual to me its one of those headcanons i feel firm on XD

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

im really hoping to get more backstory elaboration for him in the upcoming season!!! i just need to know if his thing with horses has a story to it, or if he just has an irrational phobia XD

Suzette

How I feel about this character

suzette is one of my favorite npcs from the oxventurers guild!! i think her personality is. inconsistent, but always fun, i will cry if i think about her and dob too hard, and i just love a woman in stem

All the people I ship romantically with this character

yetta lagg :] they are wives in my heart. i also love your merilwen/suzette fics, so her as well <3

My non-romantic OTP for this character

i dunno :0 i guess i did answer a familial relationship for this question on another ask, so im gonna im allowed to answer dob lol theyre the siblings ever!!!

My unpopular opinion about this character

dunno if i really have one!! i dont think people really. talk about suzette enough for there to be any debating XD i guess, more a headcanon than an unpopular opinion, but i do think that dob and suzette were abandoned by their parents rather than orphaned :p i know some people have them as orphans, and i like that too!! but i think its sadder if they were abandoned so thats what i imagine khjgfhgjkfd

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

i just wish she was there more. just more. please. i love u suzette

Bison Billie

How I feel about this character

THE TIGER. HE DESTROYED HIS CAGE. YES. YES! THE TIGER IS OUT. i LOOOVEEEE billie and i want to see him more!!! two episodes wasnt enough for me, bring back jasper cartwright NOW!!

All the people I ship romantically with this character

edie <333333 once again, just edie, though that makes sense since she's the only person his age that he interacts with ghjbfghjbdfhjb

My non-romantic OTP for this character

i LOVE the idea of billie taking delacy in under his wing and genuinely teaching him the ins and outs of performance. i want them to have a mentor/mentee dynamic so badly i think its so fun

My unpopular opinion about this character

dunno if i have one :D i like everything ive seen of billie from other fans. it always makes me happy

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

like suzette. just come back PLEEEEASEEEEE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

Willowfine

How I feel about this character

that's my wife's wife. my wife as in morven, or as in my friend dora? yeah. yeah, both XD truly i do associate willowfine with dora, which takes an already great character and makes her super special to me. i think its so fun to watch jane be the soft, good-hearted one. i love that she's a healer but is still powerful and is kind of intense. and shes so pretty and sweet, and i love that shes so kind and is still the defacto leader of the group. i think its so uncommon for the leader to be the softest of the group, and i LOVE that its the case here

All the people I ship romantically with this character

oh man. as is usual for me. just about anyone in the party XD but especially morven and cressida. i think about those three in various configurations so much that its stupid

My non-romantic OTP for this character

though i do like robin/willowfine, i really love their relationship as platonic. i want them to be friends so badly 💥💥💥

My unpopular opinion about this character

once again, not really an 'unpopular opinion', but i think she's kind of mean but trying very hard to be nice. like her kindness is an active effort. i know it's jane slipping and forgetting to think as willowfine instead of being herself, but i just love it when she says something snarky or too mean and has to correct herself XD

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

i want to visit her hometown SOOOO BADLY i need to know the worldbuilding there, the little hints we have gotten so far make me crazy. i need to experience the matriarchal cult of angel women. pleeeaseee

[andydrysdalerogers]

Yours Submissively ~ Infatuation

Steve Rogers X OFC Isabella Davis

Summary: Five Years after the events of Civil War, Steve Rogers has moved on from avenging and has started his own business, Grant Inc. He has a secret that would turn his world upside down. And he's good at keep that secret. Until he meets the woman with violet eyes that could bring him to his knees. Now his mission is to make her, his. But she is the key that could bring the world into balance... or chaos.

And she has no idea.

Series Warnings: slow burn at the beginning, smut, angst, sexual themes of BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, kidnapping, (and a bunch of others that will come up)

A/N Taglist is open!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Intrigued

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Personal Report 

Name: Isabella Maria Davis 

DOB: 4 July 1999 

Birthplace: Brooklyn, NY 

Education: New Jersey City University 

Status: Senior, Education Program 

Residence: 852 State St Apt 12, Jersey City 

Roommate: Delilah Stevens 

Medical: No known  

Religion: Catholic 

Employment: Intern, Stark Industries 

Family 

Mother: Maria Elizabeth Davis (deceased) 

Father: Michael Phillip Davis (deceased) 

No known siblings 

No known relations 

Relationship: Single 

Previous: unknown 

Miss Davis is a relatively quiet person.  Quiet social media presence.  It looks like there may have been a previous relationship, but the details have been scrubbed from all known databases and social media files.  

Curiously, the same can be said for the family details as well.  Her parental information is from her birth certificate, but any other traces have so far been undetected. It is as if she has been placed in a bubble.  I will continue my search.  

Steve poured over the short report that landed on his desk two days after the gala.  He knew Bucky would always be thorough but the fact that so little was known about the elusive Miss Davis just added to Steve’s infatuation of her.  He looked over the pictures provided.  Her walking into the Grant building, at the gala, walking outside of Stark.  The photos didn’t do justice to her violet eyes.  He hit the intercom. “Devon, can you have Bucky come in as soon as possible.” 

“Yes, sir.”  

Steve stood up and faced out the window.  He could see the old Avengers tower, which Stark still kept his business in.  He imagined Belle there, working hard.  He needed a reason.  He wanted a reason to see her again.  He heard a knock on his door.  “Enter.” 

Bucky came in, hands in his pocket.  “You needed to see me Cap?” 

“What is it with you and Wilson calling me names I don’t have anymore?” Steve smiled at his oldest friend.  

“You’re still in charge, just not on the battlefield.”  Bucky shrugged.  “Whatcha need punk?” 

“Miss Davis.  Have you found anything new?” 

“Possibly.  I didn’t present it yet because I’m still trying to figure it out.  You know that new intern program?”  Steve nodded.  “Natasha told me that the only name that wasn’t included on the potential transfer list was hers.”  

“What?” 

“Yeah, I was going to get into it more but Stark had made it clear to Nat that she was off limits.  Curious, don’t you think?” 

“Very.”  Steve turned back to the windows.  “When did he give the list?” 

“The morning of the gala.  Before she was here in the building.”  

“Buck, I think I need to visit Stark today.  Can you ask Devon to see if she can find out if he has time?” 

“Sure.  No problem.”  Bucky moved to exit but stopped.  “What is so special about her?” 

“I don’t know.  That’s why she’s special. I want her but I need to know she would be okay with it.”  

“You could just call her.” Bucky smirked.  

“And where would be the fun in that?” Steve returned the smirk.  

Devon managed to find a time for Steve to visit Stark.  Bucky drove him through the city, Steve lost in thought.  When he pulled up, Steve went straight in, already known to the security and staff and headed up to Stark’s office.  

Tony Stark was the owner of Stark Industries but Pepper was the CEO, a role she took seriously.  Steve knew he would have to talk to Pepper first before Tony.  He stood in front of her secretary.  “Hello. Could you let Mrs. Potts-Stark know that Steve Rogers is here to see her.”  

“Right away, sir.”  

Pepper came out a moment later.  “Steve, to what do I owe the pleasure?”  

“Hi Pepper.”  He kissed her cheek.  “I have a meeting with Tony but I already know I have to go through the real boss.”  

She laughed.  “At least one of you understand that.  Come on in.”  He walked into her office, windows around to take in the cityscape.  “What can I help you with?” 

“I saw the intern list for the transfer.  Nat is still vetting but I noticed that Belle Davis is not on the list.  I thought she was one of your interns.”  

“Really?”  Pepper moved to her computer and reviewed. “Huh.  She is not on the list but she is definitely on the intern list.  Let me see…” she clicked a few more times.  “Says here that Tony specifically requested she remain.”  Pepper looked at Steve.  “You would have to take that one up with him.”  

“I figured.  All right then.  Did you need anything from me while I’m here?” 

“Just if you are going to the education benefit next week?” 

“If I can get the date I want, sure.  If not, maybe.”  

“Steve.  You can’t avoid being in public forever,” Pepper admonishes.  

“I can try.” Steve frowned.  “I left that public part of my life, remember?  I’m not the shield anymore.”  

“But you can still wield it for a better cause.  Just, think about it ok?  We miss you around here.”  

“I miss you guys too.”  Steve hugged Pepper and headed out to the other side of the floor.  He knocked on Tony’s door and then was blasted with high volume AC/DC playing as soon as the door opened.  “Friday, mute,” Steve said.  

“No one gave you permission to stop my music, Rogers.”  Tony came from behind his desk to shake the former Captain’s hand.  

“I’m saving your hearing Tony.  So, you can listen to Pepper more often.”  

Tony waved his hand.  “What did you need Cap?”  

Steve sighed at the title but let it go.  “I wanted to know more about Isabella Davis.”  Tony snapped his head up.  “I’m starting an education internship and she mentioned she was earning her degree in education.  Her name is not on the list of interns that could be transferred.”  

“Because she isn’t available,” Tony was quick to say.  “Belle has her internship and scholarship tied with Stark Industries.  Since she is only a month and half or so away from graduation, I figured there was no need to make her a part of it.”  

“And if I offered her one?” 

“That’s up to her.”  Tony looked nervously at the door.  “Look Rogers, Belle is a sweet girl and I’m just looking out for her.”  

“I get it.  She was a great girl at the gala. If I see her, I might offer her a place.  Just a fair warning.  I leave you to whatever it is you’re doing.”  

“Sure, Steve.  Thanks for the heads up.”  

Steve exited the workroom and head towards the elevator.  Lost in thought, he barely noticed the doors opening but looked up and saw the violet eyes he had been dreaming of for the last few days.  “Miss Davis.”  

“Mr. Rogers,” Belle squeaked.  She had not been able to get him off her mind either but assumed it would fade with time.  After she ran, Tony had called and asked if everything was ok.  She lied and said she was feeling ill, not wanting Tony to think there had been a problem with Steve.  

“May I have a moment of your time Miss Davis?”  She nodded and he gently guided her back into the elevator.  It started to move but he pushed the emergency stop.  “You ran,” he said simply.  

“I, uhh…” Belle didn’t know what to say.  

“It’s ok Isabella.  I didn’t say anything to anyone.” Steve tried to reassure her. “I’m here because I wanted to offer you an opportunity.”  

“At what?” 

“I’m starting an education focused internship.  You mentioned at the gala how you were in the education field and I figured you would have some insight on it.”  

“Well, Mr. Stark already asked me to stay on as his personal intern for the remainder of the school year. It gives me time to finish my thesis for graduation.”  

“Oh.”  Steve tried not to look crestfallen.  “Well, if you have an idea on how I could structure it or well any ideas on how I can help in the education field please let me know.  Or if you change your mind.”  He took out his card and handed it to her.  

She looked at the business card.  “You could start a teacher outreach,” she whispered.  

“What was that?” 

“A teacher outreach.”  Belle looked up.  “Did you know that most teachers pay for school supplies out of their own pockets?  Maybe you can help with that.”  

Steve smiled. “I could do that.  Thank you, Isabella.  I’ll let you get back to work.”  He released the emergency stop and the doors opened again. Belle exited and turned back when he said, “I hope I can see you again.”  

“Why?” 

“Because you intrigue me, Isabella. And I want to get to know you.”  Steve gave her a heart stopping smile and the elevator doors closed.  

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@jennmurawski13-writes

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@amiquette

[sillystargirll]

File

𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨...

██ 20% *___* ███ 40% *___* ████ 60% *___* █████ 80% *___* ██████ 100% *___*

Y/N L/N

RANK: LIEUTENANT

CALLSIGN: FLASH

AGE: 25

BLOOD TYPE: A+

BIRTHPLACE: MAMI, FL

DOB: 06/21/1997

OCCUPATION: THE PENTAGON, VA

🚨 WARNING 🚨

I'm sorta following the MW2 plot and I'm just going with the flow tbh

I will put a ⭐︎ as a warning of smut

So enjoy

[slvtiny]

Welcome to Wonderland, My dear dreamer

Hi,

I am Jae, your personal Jinn.

In this household, we do not judge, discriminate, nor disrespect.

All you wish for can come alive, even if it's the way a song, a picture, or a thought makes you feel. Even if you can't make words out of it, as long as you tell me how you'd sound in your dreams.

I can make the world a wonderland for you.

▪︎♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧▪︎

♤ A little into detail, 'Who am I?' :

I'm Jade <Jae>

Age - 22 years old

DOB - 11th of June

Occupation - nil Currently in university

Major - Psychology, Neuroscience, Music<for funsies🙄🎀>

MBTI - INTP

Hobbies - music, dance, writing, reading (any form of art at this poin>_<), trekking, cooking, 🫣nerdy techy stuff you're probably not interested in(I usually just help out my tech maj bsf to finish their proj🤭), collecting sea shells and other stupid stuff I do on a daily🦖✨️

▪︎♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧▪︎

♤ Artists I stan :

ATEEZ

XIKERS NCT TxT TBZ SKZ THE ROSE

KARD SF9 MAMAMOO TWICE

RED VELVET PENTAGON ONEWE CIX

KIM WOO SEOK SEVENTEEN MONSTA X

iKON WOODZ P1HARMONY LEE HI

ONLYONEOFF MADDOX BewhY GEMINI

ONEUS DPR IAN DPR LIVE

DPR CREAM B.I LEO æspa AMBER LIU

Coogie SOGUMM DeVita PUNCHNELLO

CODE KUNST WOO WONJAE HOODY

UGLY DUCK LOCO GRAY GOT7 CRUSH

BIGBANG BTOB DAY6 ERIC NAM

HANNAH BAHNG ITZY JESSI WINNER

HYO BLOCKB SIMON D ZICO KID MILLI

NO:EL HAON MELOH SEORI LUCAS...

<there's probably more I just can't recall lol>

<my list is literally Hongjoong’s nightmare 🦖>

NOTE:

You can talk to me about these artists, recommend songs, recommend other artists, I may write for them only on very sweet requests, and I will not write smut for them unless I already do. Please check the list of artists I write for👇 before requesting.

♤ ARTISTS I WRITE FOR :

ATEEZ MADDOX MAMAMOO TBZ

GEMINI B.I AMBER LIU

NCT (I don't writ for Wish they CHILD), (though Shota, and Sungie are Riize now, I might write for them, same goes for Lucas)

▪︎♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧▪︎

<under maintenance will be updated soon >

♤ IMPORTANT LINKS :

RULES

PERMANENT TAGGLIST

ABOUT REQUESTS

INDEX

PLAYLISTS

FIC RECS

HELP ME WRITE??

▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•

Ps.

Lmk if the link don't work

[artyandink]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐱𝐲𝐳

SUMMARY: You’re the first female president of the USA, having won the 2014 elections against Amara Shurley by a landslide. Now that you were a symbol of feminism, reform and a better country, it meant that there were a lot more assassination attempts bound to be on your head. For that, you needed a personal bodyguard, so you had to pick right. And you picked right in convicted ex-hitman Dean Winchester. Right?

TW: assassination attempts, ex-hitman!Dean, POTUS!reader, politics!au, politics, murder, gunfire, boss reader, smut, angst, fluff, major sexual tension between reader and Dean but also romantic tension cause we love that, slow/quick burn, y’all will have to figure that out

A/N: In honour of our queen Kamala Harris, who didn’t win the 2024 elections, so I give you what could’ve been

SOUNDTRACK

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗿𝘆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘆𝗺𝗯𝗼𝗹 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑: 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗻𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄: 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗: 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘅𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗹𝗲𝗺 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝗻𝗼, 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄: 𝘄𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗽𝘀 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍: 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗺𝗲

TAGLIST: @goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@cheynovak @bitchykittenconnoisseur @underground-secret @heartiella

@bollzinurmouth @jcollins03-blog

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝