#don't mind me cleaning the drafts again

[beevean]

The more I think about S4 and how much of a rushjob the Styria plotline was, the more amazed I am at the utter failure that the ring is. When you really, really think in detail about how it works, it's so easy to see the gaps in logic in it.

What were the issues of using Hector to create an army for the Styrian council?

He would be able to create an army for himself that he could sic against the sisters. The ring allows them to assume control of the Night Creatures. We only see this as a short flash when Hector forges a creature, but he has to cut his own finger to force his army to stop attacking Isaac, so the ring had solved this. One point!

He doesn't want to be there. The ring binds him to the castle. However, considering Hector's plan apparently involved creating an escape channel that would connect his forge to Carmilla's quarters at the top, which he apparently planned to use to run away ("I had to assume I might be running from the top of the castle one day"), it seems that his own magic would have been strong enough to break the spell.

Striga wants to strike the iron while it's hot and take advantage of the chaos in the region, and Lenore is taking too much time in "domesticating" him with good ol' fashioned gaslighting and manipulation. The ring brutally speeds things up: this could have been a nice plot point to show how prideful and eager to prove herself Lenore is, but in S4's quest to woobiefy her, it goes nowhere. Still, it can be seen as an answer to Striga's issue, so two points.

However, in the same scene, Striga also points out the paradox of relying on dead bodies to make an army when they need living humans to feed. This is straight up an issue with using a Forgemaster, not the way Hector would be made to work. And she is right! But while we see mercenaries in the castle when Isaac assaults it, this problem never comes up again, and Hector is delivered as many bodies as he needs. This logic paradox is completely ignored for the sake of pretending Lenore "won".

He doesn't want to work for people who hurt him. Lenore was actually doing a good job at convincing him to work for them with solid reasons, such as the fact that they shared the same plan and Lenore was willing to improve his life conditions and, by the time the idea of mercenaries comes up, she liked him enough that she was his only chance of being kept alive... then she raped him to put the ring on him, and as the beginning of S4 shows, Hector can stall for time as much as he wants. He still doesn't want to work, as we see later he's actually doing things behind everyone's backs, and nothing forces him to obey any orders. Lenore, his own mistress, has to plead to get him to move on!

That's two out of five, by the way, and one point only lead to bad consequences.

Lenore really did the exact same thing Carmilla was chastized for, breaking Hector's trust before securing his cooperation, and the story... is odd from now on. If you lay down the events, it seems that the ring's failure was an intentional plot beat: of course Hector would refuse to work for the woman who betrayed him. It looks like an honest mistake on Lenore's part, much like Carmilla beating him and then expecting him to do her bidding. But Hector actually doesn't display any anger like he did for Carmilla, and the two are on good terms... even though he planned to run away and bring back Dracula... even though he also waited for Isaac to kill him... even though he spares Lenore's life because she doesn't deserve to be hurt... even though he completely destroyed her life by causing Carmilla's death...? I honestly don't understand if it's a writing failure or not... which makes it inherently a writing failure lol. At least Carmilla got thoroughly called out for her idiocy.

The more I think about it, the more this mess seems to be caused by two ideas badly meshed together: it's possible that in the first draft, Hector was meant to betray Lenore and the others (remember the foreshadowing with the fireplace), which would explain his plotting behind the scenes, his little "thanks again for that", and the way he caused Styria's downfall... but then someone in the team decided to ship Hector and Lenore together, so the ring got completely nullified to remove as many reminders of her past cruelty as possible and he displays zero emotions other than vague fondness for her. With this in mind, it becomes effectively impossible to determine if the ring's ineffectualness was planned to facilitate Hector's revenge or was a result of rushed writing to facilitate Lenector.

A very, very simple solution to this entire mess would have been revealing that Lenore... never wanted Hector to work in the first place. She didn't like Carmilla's plan, but she wanted to save his life because she found him cute and wanted a sex slave pet, and she knew that the others were waiting for a good reason to get rid of him. So it was for her sake, and in her mind Hector's, but not for the council, who was planning to do something she didn't approve of and doesn't respect her anyway. That would have been nice, fit Lenore's established moral code (to be fair, she does look a little miffed at the idea of keeping humans in pens, and while she tells Hector that it's their plan, it's obvious she's only trying to manipulate him and has no feelings on the matter), and very selfish personality. Who cares about the livestock? She wants this new puppy! And she'll save it from mean Carmilla, because despite all the gaslighting and sexual coercion and trickery, she is a good person and likes feeling good! And if she can stick it to Striga who underestimated her, even better!

In short: no, the ring wasn't meant to work, only keep Hector docile!

I like this idea of Lenore having her own agenda and being with the council only out of mutual convenience: they don't like her but use her, and same goes for her. As long as they live nicely without causing issues, she cooperates, but Carmilla's plan is idiotic, so she snatches the pet for herself: from there, it's easier to have an arc where she grows to care for Hector as a person, without the pressure of the council who she doesn't care for in the first place, being fully aware of being nothing more than a tool to them (hint hint). And Hector can be as torn as he is supposed to be, but ultimately choosing to make Styria fall and only keep Lenore alive, but in a way that crushes her heart.

And since it's common to whitewash Lenore in S3 and assume she was a better person than what she actually was, no, I don't believe this was the intention:

Lenore wouldn't have pitched her deal to Carmilla, which was "he'll work for us in exchange for the freedom of the castle". She wouldn't have even set up the expectations, because then no shit Carmilla would get "very cross". She could have kept it for herself and agreed with Striga's suggestion to hire mercenaries.

In fact, the very first perk of the ring she mentions is that now Hector's Night Creatures would obey the council as well, eliminating the danger of him using them to attack them. This is literally the only function of the ring that is shown in S4. Lenore expected Hector to work for them and was happy to reassure the sisters that he was no longer a threat.

In fact, she didn't even need to coerce him in the first place! By the time Lenore decides to resort to rape by deception, Hector already trusted her and saw her as a source of comfort and protection. With the reveal that Carmilla was considering using mercenaries, i.e. no longer needed him, Lenore became the only person he could cling to to be safe. He would have pledged loyalty by himself - hell, he would have accepted a binding ring - if Lenore just asked. She literally only raped him for her own sadistic satisfaction.

Morana had suggested to use mercenaries to solve the issue of having to kill people for the sake of an army, which would have taken away resources from the livestock. If Lenore truly disliked the plan from the get go, this was the perfect compromise. She could have enslaved Hector for herself for the sake of saving his life, but instead, she chose to make him a forced worker, indirectly contributing to all the lives being taken for the sake of the army. This proves that her main concern was not mercy, not to the humans nor to Hector, but gloating about her accomplishment and feeling important to the council.

In the dick jokes scene, Lenore sounds worried that she can't keep Carmilla at bay, but her solution is pleading pretty please for Hector to work, in a tone that implies that it's what she expects from him as well. The complete lack of apology for any morally questionable action she has taken doesn't help assuage the impression - as I have stated multiple times, the show is not subtle, and if Lenore meant to go behind Carmilla's back and was deliberately being twofaced, she would have admitted it.

The entire tone of the scene where Lenore gloats to the sisters for enslaving Hector is "see? I'm just as good as you! I'm not a stupid little girl, I'm smart and important! So there for underestimating me!". It was not about Hector. It was about her reputation. Which, incidentally, is exactly what she moans about in S4, that she will stop being important to the council after she solved "Hector's problem".

So yes, Lenore really expected Hector to work for her after breaking his heart, and pulled the mother of all shockedpikachufaces.jpg when he didn't. Although he still fell in love with her. Although he still planned to betray all of them. Although he still cared to save her life letting everyone else die.

It's just amazing to me. The more I try to meet the writing from different angles, the more issues I find. true peak.

I guess I can chalk this up to yet another way I could fix the plotline: have Lenore be a wild card in the council, and have her using everyone around her, to the point that no one can trust her, and she's only a Queen because someone like her is best to have as an ally and not as an enemy. Only after Hector betrays her, she starts to regret her actions: because for the first time in her existence, she had grown to care about someone other than herself, but by then, the damage was irreparable.

[scarlet-forest-mp3]

I would like to add another something to the list of "sus things related to Ralsei"

How the fuck did he baked a cake in a fucking cauldron?

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Wrong Turn ||

Pairing: Mountain Man Silver Fox Nomad!Steve Rogers | You. 

Trope: Neat and clean ‘civilized’ Princess-like young trophy wife X Filthy beast of a wild and scary man who only got her because he has the power. 

Description: In a desperate attempt to save your life from the wrath of the mountain people that your friends and you stumbled upon and accidentally killed on a hike gone wrong, you had to offer yourself up to their Leader to use as a ‘resource’. But little did your ‘husband’ know, you had been actively getting rid of his seed to avoid actually getting pregnant. Naturally, when he does find out, he is very unhappy… And also very determined to make sure you don't make it out of your punishment without a child, or two.

Warning(s): Dubcon, barbaric!Steve, breeding kink (gone wild), unprotected p-in-v, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, missionary, he has a wife bod kink (but it is inclusive), misogyny, smut with perhaps too much plot, fear kink, size kink, exhibitionism, possessiveness, jealousy, age gap, hair pulling, spanking, biting, allusions to painal and Steve being a teasing sicko about it but he doesn't actually penetrate, overstimulation, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, boob play, squirting, Lloyd makes an appearance with his own young bride, dacryphilia (it's me), self degradation, Stevie is a perverted old meanie, infantilization, mind break.

Disclaimer: Very loosely based off of the movie that I do not own. You don't need to know it to read this piece but do note that it takes place in a fictional setting. Minors do not interact. 

Inspo-ish: This post.

Note: For someone who was on their period, I should not have been this horny. But I need this marriage, now. Ps, though this rotted in my drafts for a long time… in honor of Chris growing out his beard again, ig.

MASTERLIST

. . .

You have no idea how long it has been since that fateful twilight when everything changed in your life, leaving you to a lifestyle you could never have even imagined for yourself.  

“Eat up, woman” but as your barbarian of a husband commands you in his rough and animalistically deep voice, you cannot help but break out of your reverie and shudder at the sight of the barely cooked meat piled high on the platter in front of the two of you. “So you can bear me healthy children” although you're the one who was made to prepare his beastly dinner -that never fails to leave you aghast when it's gorged down- as you're his wife, you cannot help but gag under your breath and feel disgust for the loaves that sit before you in the company of a tall stone carved jug that brims full of the foul smelling mead that your husband is ardently fond of. 

You muster up your best coy smile. Keeping up the appearance of a happily mated pair is important. Or people stare. And then the old man becomes unpleasant. “I had quite a lot while I was cooking, dear” your lies sting your tongue out of the fear you feel of getting caught, but the mere hope of not doing so is better than eating this. “Y- You go ahead” you slowly turn in his muscle hardened lap, that you are always to sit on, to give him a small smile but your expression almost transforms into one of horror because of how wildly your heart jumps at the sight of his stern, predator-like face. You are quick to recover though, as it is a usual occurrence. 

“You need it. You work so hard—” there is just something about his rough looks that never fails to send a chill down your spine. You have never seen anything, let alone an actual human man like him before. 

A beard as thick as the very forest his people populate and as dark as the nights can get here in the absence of lanterns due to the heavy trees, age that streaks some of his gold locks with its silver has not marred the sternness of his jaw that remains firmly set under the heavy mane of his facial hair. His shoulders seem akin to the mountains that surround his village and his piercing dark eyes the mysterious waterfall that flows some way down south from the entrance of the settlement. The frightening mass of his shoulders is so toned that if the barely noticeable wrinkles that sometimes appear under the dark of his eyebrows and next to the crow-feather like lashes that frame his eyes, he can easily be mistaken for a man in his primeful late twenties and no older. His unrelenting strength and wolfish stamina would only further serve to bear testament to the misconception. 

Your strict husband bluntly catches your shaky hand that you extend in his direction to feed him some of the meat, the force that he uses coupled with the coarseness of his skin making you jump. You bite back a yelp and whimper when you look up at his dark blue eyes from where you were watching his bearded mouth to carefully place the food in.

“I don't care” Steve does not care much for being polite -unless it is you who disregards it in your behavior-, especially when it comes to you denying or diverting his ‘care’ for you. “You eat more” you bite back the scowl that threatens to break onto your face from how he turns your hand around in your direction instead. “Wives always need to eat more. They do so much at home for husband and children” he probably feels proud of these ‘values’ that have been transmitted to him by his elders. But all they make you want to do is to crack him across the jaw for being a misogynistic and backward shithead. Especially with you. 

Your ‘husband’ believes that everyone has a role to play; a contribution to make to their people and home. That is how this archaic village of theirs has survived in these mountains hidden away from the rest of the world for so long. 

The greasy piece of a disturbing excuse of a rare steak touches your lips and you've been here long enough to know better than to argue or worse yet, fight. So you smile and lean into his arm that cases your form against his through the embrace he holds you in from behind, his fingers playing with one of the many flowered braids your attending ladies had put in your hair a bit before his arrival at ‘home’. 

“O- Of course” you reluctantly open your open and grip your flowy dressing gown for a semblance of support for your sanity, taking the smallest bite you can -which is still a lot as the man pushes nearly the whole piece into your mouth the moment you open up- as you keep your eyes trained on his to avoid looking down. Your mind always becomes more aware of the taste when you look. “Thank you, dear” you focus on swallowing it without gagging and feel your smile split in places because of how uncomfortable you are.

He probably notices it because he slightly raises one eyebrow and snorts before hugging your smaller form -that is tiny compared to his- closer and puts the rest of the piece in his own mouth. If there is one thing you have learnt in your time with him, it's that you can never fool him. Not really. No matter how well you may think you have lied or pretended, he always sees through it. 

Sometimes you suspect he even enjoys it.

Steve finally begins to eat himself, silently offering you another piece that you politely reject by shaking your head and then quickly pressing an apologetic kiss to his scruffy cheek to lighten the blow. Apparently, a wife can never be polite enough to her husband. And though the change in his expression begins with an unhappy frown, your show of ‘affection’ seems to suffice him and he relaxes in satisfaction, now looking down the long table and at his clansmen and maidens that sit enjoying their dinner, their chatter and laughter a dull roar in the large eating hall of the Leader's dwelling. You pick up the heavy jug of mead with both your hands and obediently hold it to his lips to sip from. Steve looks away from what one of his main men are saying and gulps down a mouthful, rubbing your back as a gesture for thanks before moving his hand quickly down to squeeze your ass to heighten the effect of his expression of gratitude. 

His form shakes in mirth when you yelp and blush. He knows how embarrassing you find being openly ‘affectionate’ in front of people and that is one of the reasons why he enjoys it so much besides showing off that a thing of such beauty and youth like you is all his. You rest the jug between your boobs that he has fucked and squeezed into increasing in size and use your other hand to gently finger and stroke his golden locks that he keeps pushed away from his face outside the bedroom. Though he says nothing, you feel his usually vigilant and always firm stature slowly soften and you cannot help but smile, though what he says next quickly deflates it.

“Do you feel any change in you, wife?” You know what it means and now it's you who becomes tense. He only uses that name for you when he speaks to you as a husband inquiring about your marital matters. “Has my seed attached to your womb yet? Does it grow there?” You gulp and feign shyness, moving closer to his hair and nuzzling yourself in him. “Hm?” He closes his hugging arm around you and reaches for your stomach, fingers groping your covered skin as gently as he can -which isn't much- to feel it. “Answer me” he demands when you refuse to speak. 

“I… I don't know, husband” you always promise yourself that you'll demand more rights for yourself; ask him to treat you like the other husbands treat their wives, only to fail the minute he enters your vicinity. 

“What does that mean?” His tone turns blunt and you whimper at the tightness that snaps back in place between his shoulders. 

You get it.

That was the deal, after all. 

Healthy children in exchange for your life that was required by their judicial laws for bearing false witness to your friend accidentally killing one of their people in mistaken defense. Steve had promised you before accepting you as a citizen that if you failed to fulfill your task you'd walk the darkness in the dungeons. He had shown you how it would be before declaring you a member of their tribe and the sight you had seen was something that had given you nightmares for days. 

But that did not mean you actually wanted to have your old captor's children.

You doubted it would ever be something you'd look forward to.

“I- I mean” regret shoots up your spine in the form of fear and you lose your speech to it momentarily. But then two of your main attending ladies -by that you mean Steve's top agents when it comes to you- enter the horizon of your sight and you hurriedly blubber out the first thing that comes to your mind. “I've n- never been pregnant before, s-o I d- don't know how to…” Your husband turns to look at you, his handsome features twisting into a rogue scowl but before he can scold you, one of the two ladies, Kaira, speaks in their language to Steve. 

Not everyone here can speak English and those who do speak it do so a rather odd version of it. Naturally, you don't speak their language and so they give you the full experience of an outsider when they need to discuss the business they want to keep private from you. The thought makes you want to laugh, like you'd be able to do something with whatever informations they withhold.

But it doesn't really bother you, because you don't care.

You've also learnt that ignorance is bliss here. 

Especially for someone like you.

Better to be the doe eyed trophy wife of an angel who can't tell her head from her ass.

“Is that so?” Your heart jumps when Steve chooses to speak English. That means that this definitely concerns you. You place the mead down and wrap one arm around his broad shoulders before nervously combing his thick beard with your other hand. Since you have no interest in or desire to learn their language, the only word you manage to pick up on when you focus really hard is ‘baby’ and that is solely because of the annoying amount of times it comes up for you. 

“Is not this strange?” He speaks once the women step back after finally ending the nerve wracking conversation that seems to go on forever. “Do you hear what they say about you, little one?” Fuck, you're definitely in trouble. 

He is reminding you of your place. 

You put on your best charming smile but you're painfully aware that your nervousness gives it away. You can feel it. “W- What do they say, dear?” They were such bitches. They knew how to speak English, that's why they were your attendants, but yet they chose not to. And now they were glaring at you like you weren't above them— oh no, not these thoughts again. You will never become like them! No, no! 

Steve pushes his plate away now. Your head spins from the realization. It's only half finished. Your husband never wastes his food. It is a near sin for them to do so. “They tell me the most odd things” oh just fucking tell me! You mentally scream but outwardly tilt your head to the side in confusion, your chest vibrating with the rising beats of your heart. “And now that I think about it myself…” His fingers wrap around the mead before he raises it to his lips. “I see the—”

“What did they say, Steve?” Your mouth works faster than your better sense and he pauses mid sip, dark blue eyes flickering up from the stone jug to look at you. Your face flushes a noticeable hot and your ears get sweaty from the awareness. 

Fuck. 

“They say you've been getting rid of my seed” he feels played and thus angry at the both of you. Perhaps more so towards himself than you; his silly little child-wife. How could he let a thing as tender and small as you fool him so? “... Do you?” It is obvious you are guilty. Besides, he is confident that his people would never lie to him unlike one young and beautiful girl that he had found kneeling in front of him in his court while bawling her eyes out one fateful night, fear stricken as his people surrounded him like a doe trapped. 

And of course, your expressions and reactions don't help your case, as always. “W- What? No…” Your mind becomes erratic.

“No?” He himself knows not what kind of a chance he offers you with that. But typical to your nature, you make it easy for him by refusing it.

“N- No! Of course not! W- Why would I ever do such a thing to m- my husb- hubby and my b- babies?!” Steve has to clench down his scoff. 

“You wouldn't, would you?” Your naivete never fails to amuse him.

“No! I- I don't know why they accuse me so—” you mend your speech from the archaic form that tries to leech to it everyday. “I don't know why they would accuse me of that but they must be mistaken! This is a misunderstanding!” 

He hums. “I see…” His scarred fingers begin to toy with your braids again. “So you remain devoted to me and faithful to our family, don't you?”

“Of course!” You nuzzle closer to him, your heart thundering into his chest. “I don't know why they still treat me like an outsider” you purr as you nervously stroke his hair, playing a card of your own and making an absolute fool of yourself by doing so. “I try my best… like I promised.” 

“Yes, your promise” his distant eyes -they get like that when you disappoint him and you hate the sight because it never fares well for you- travel down to your empty stomach. His gaze makes it wrench. Your fear skyrockets at the same rate as your anger. If only there was a way for you to get back at those bitches without having to give birth!

“I- It takes time sometimes, dear…” You hug his shoulders with one arm. “But it will happen. I know it…” Your other hand reaches for his fingers that rest on your abdomen now. 

“Oh?” Steve raises one dark eyebrow at you. His hair is the most fascinating combination of blonde and dark brown. “Is that what your modern day sciences say?” His people were not always like this, he had told you. They did not originate from here. Rather, some families had abandoned ‘civilization’ when it was going to hell -in his words- by killing each other for meaningless constructs such as caste, creed and color differences and migrated up here to establish a system of their own; one free from such nonsense. 

Apparently.

You take a deep breath. “Stevie—” you only call him that when you find yourself dangerously close to the dungeons.

“If that is what you believe in, wife,” he never cuts you off. Usually, that is. His age that streaks his blonde strands with its silver ones has granted him enough patience. Normally, he waits for the other person -who is most often you- to mess up themselves. But whatever the ladies have told him seems to agitate him into rebelling against his own nature today. “I'll do it your way. After all, happy wife happy life, is that not what you tell me often?” Okay, you might have said that during a particularly cocky moment in bed once. 

But the intention behind that had not been nearly whatever he is moving towards now. 

“Y- You don't have to, l- love…” You nervously giggle. “You're perfect the way you are” you run your nails that he insists you keep trimmed for hygienic -as if- and practical purposes through his silver-blonde hair.

“Oh no…” Now he pushes his food farther away. “I will indulge you, little one” he moves your other leg over his laps so now you face the people down the table with both of your legs on either sides of his, ass to his… fuck. “Time conspires against us, and so we must make haste.”

Your eyes widen and your heart leaps up in your throat. “M- My love?!” 

Steve moves your flowy gown out of his way, keeping a firm hold on one of your thighs even though he doesn't really have to. Your fear of him would never let you attempt an escape. “Yes, my stars” the name is so full of sarcasm it nearly pierces you open. “Let us leave time to its devices, and us ours” your husband is usually a very possessive and private man when it comes to you, but his ire seems to get the better of him today. You hear the buckle of his own clothes come undone. The table goes silent and heads turn in your direction once they realize what's going on. Oh no… Your stomach drops. Not in front of everyone. Not when Steve makes you so vulnerable in that condition. Not in front of these lowlifes!

“Husb—” blood bubbles hot under your cheeks as you feel him align himself against you. 

Holy shit.

You feel one of his coarse hands wrap around your throat and he pulls you closer to his mouth so he can whisper in your ear. “You will contribute, my stubborn little wife,” you whimper from the menace his words hold, your well trained cunt obediently squelching open against his thick hard tip as he lowers you on his cock with the hold he has on your thigh. “Whether you like it, or not” sometimes, deep down, you fear that the dungeons are not an option anymore. 

He keeps you in the horizons of his sight too much for them to be. 

It appears as though the sentence has changed. 

It is now Steve, or Steve.

You cry out from the strain his log-like girth puts on the narrow band of your entrance. God. You will never get used to his size regardless of how many times and ways he tames your pussy in. Yes, it does not refuse him or rip around him now as it used to in the beginning -and it did that for a long time- but the size to which his cock makes it expand is like a mini-birth. Feels like it, looks like it. Only, it feels way too good. And that's why you don't mind it—

No. You don't know what that was or meant. But you don't take responsibility for that thought!

“Oh!” The balmy velvet of your cavern grazes down the bulging veins and hard skin of the brute's cock until your petals squish against his heavy and very eager balls. Your head spins when you feel his tip tickle your cervix. It never takes his dick long to find it.  

His hands are pushing you back up almost instantly so he can slide you back down. You look anywhere but at the tens of faces in front of you, instead choosing to look at the wall on the opposite side of the table. You never thought these people were capable of being this quiet until now when your pussy makes an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as Steve tugs you back to his leaking tip and then allows gravity to suck you back down. You desperately bite your lips and try to focus on ignoring the way your insides are beginning to thrum with the excitement and stimulation; to show these brutes that you're better than them and aren't some animal of nature. But to no avail. His slimy precum mixes too well with yours, the rough skin of his hands digs into your thighs too well and the manner in which your petals rub against his cock when he lifts you yet again -now forming a momentum- before letting you slide in again is too much for you mask with nonchalance. 

Indifference has never been among your strong suits.

“Tell me, my pretty” Steve begins again, his dark eyes now finding the young and hormonal pack of unsuspecting boys who clearly do not know better. “Have you ever had a cock like mine?” He says it in their own language so the foolish miscreants see, understand and learn the fact that you’re only his. You belong to him and he will go to war for you, not that a pack of rug rats will ever be a cause of worry for him. “Has anyone ever fucked you as good as I do?” He switches back to the language you understand, roughly fumbling for your jaw before he grabs it and bounces his hips into yours at the same time. 

Your traitorous legs have begun to do what they always do; fuck yourself against him -if he hasn’t bound you, which he hasn’t- in whatever position he has you. You only realize that your breathing has become heavier when you open your mouth to answer. “Only you, my husband! Only you!” Your brain is running too fast for reason or reflection to catch up so you leave wondering why you answer him with the only words he has been able to teach you in his language to later. Your words are muffled as his fingers that grip the lower half of your face nearly slip in your mouth from the disordered urgency of the both of your actions. 

“That's right” your mouth falls open and you begin to softly pant in that animalistic way that you detest when he makes you watch yourself in a mirror while fucking you sometimes. In your defense, it is always unintentional on your part; you barely even notice it while taking his fucking. And yet, it is inevitable due to the force he does it with. “Look at you; dutifully fucking yourself up and down your husband's cock like a bitch in heat” a twinge forms in your knuckles from how your fingers hold the edges of the table to aid the gliding of your fuck hole that now slams up and down his cock in a rhythm you're all too familiar with, the smacks of your bare ass slapping against his naked abdomen making appalling noises that you're too worked up to dread over right now. “And you're a bitch in heat for me, aren't you?” His fingers move down from your jaw to your throat. “Wanting to be bred over and over again until you're so full of my children that your little belly is round and heavy to the brim, hm?” In these moments, you tell him anything and everything that he wants to hear.

Steve knows it all too well.

And he loves it.

“Yes!” Your voice disappears midway from how he squeezes your windpipe. His hips meet yours midway now, the wetness of your cunt and the force of his thrusts causing for his balls to try and push past the tight boundary of your sexual cavern. “Yes! Yes! I am! Please!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when his free hand finds your petals to play with. “Ohhh!”

“You want to be bred, don't you?” He rubs your drenched pussy lips while his hard cock pistons in and out of your sopping cunt. “Want to contribute…?” He chokes you once more and this time his fingers pinch one of your pussy lips punishingly at the same time and you cry out. “Provide your husband with a house full of heirs?” The oxygen in your mind depletes and your eyes flutter as a result, cheeks turning red and nerves becoming prominent on your glistening temples. Your horny yet defensive pussy finally relaxes around him a bit so it doesn't hurt his dick and he savours the moment by holding you by the curve between your legs and fucking into your form that gets limp by the moment to push you towards your first orgasm. 

It always gets better after that. 

For him, at least. 

You don't choke him out so much then.

“Y- Yes!” When Steve finally lets go of your throat to let you breathe, you blubber out an an answer obediently once the light returns to your eyes. Your walls stiffen around him once more. But by then he has already worked himself closer to your womb. “Yes! Yes!” It is all your mind can muster.

“Good” he makes a point of taking both of your boobs in his hands and thoroughly massaging them to show off his ownership over you. “Now ask me to breed you” the fence of heat that has formed around your loins becomes tighter when his hands that previously fondled your clothed breasts slip under your gown -for Steve is too possessive to actually expose you to the eyes of others- and he softly rubs your tense sides a couple times before his fingers form pinches around your hard nubs. 

“Please breed me!” Your voice is so loud and strained that its quality is nearly blood curdling. “Please breed me and s- stuff me full your children!” Your hands fly to grip his from over the dress as you throw your head back and slip from the edge of your anticipation, parrotting all the words he has taught you over the course of your marriage. “Oh GOD! Please!” Your back arches from the coming undone of the hot belt of expectation and scorching gratification spills from it, seeping down your legs in the form of a nearly unbearable electric feeling that transforms into a subzero energy when it reaches your toes that curl, causing them to feel as though they are freezing. “I need your b- babies so bad, hubby!” 

Steve's own ears blush from the heat that courses through them in the form of adrenaline as he snorts, some of his blonde strands coming loose from the push and tug that he plays with your cunt. “Tell them” his balls ache from the strength it takes him not to fill you up right then. “Tell everyone that you want me to fill you up with my babies” since your sensitive body tries to curl and move away from the overstimulation, the older man wraps both of his hands around your thighs to keep you going. “Say it!” And he makes you say the words that he desires in the language of your spectators that look embarrassed for the first time since you got here. 

Save for your husband's best men who look equal parts aroused and proud. 

You want to cringe and be disgusted but your sensitive pussy is being pounded too hard for you to attempt a conjuring up of any dignity. 

“Need hubby babies bad!” You cry out again from memory when Steve's thick seed begins to fill you up at last. “Oh, my God!” The feeling of his hot cum filling you up and painting every inch of your sensitive walls penetrates your already hazy mind and the warmth that steams out of the pearly liquid steams its way up to your womb, making you shudder at the feeling. Your opening tightens around him in protest of the overstimulation and it instead causes for a barrage of bitter-sweet electric sparks to explode through your abdomen in the form of a half post-climax orgasm. Your body grows tired.

But your insatiable is far from done.

“Flattering, but no” Steve pushes you against the table before standing up when he is done fucking his orgasm as deep as he can reach into you. “The father of your children will suffice” your eyebrows furrow at his words but the older man does not give you a chance to ponder over them because now he is hooking his hands under your thighs that your rapid and messy fucking has covered in both of your juices. 

“W- What?!” Your vision is hazy and your mind dazed as you incoherently tap about. “What's— oh!” You wince from how much easier it is for him to move inside your worked open and much lubricated but torturously overstimulated walls now. “Oh! Oh…” Your hands blindly feel behind you to try and get him to stop. “Oh, no! No, please!” You cry out weakly, your upper body hanging low in the opposite direction from the exhaustion. 

“No?” The older man darkly chuckles, paying no mind to your flailing. “You think you can say that to me?” One of his hands desert their post on your thighs to roughly grab at your hair. He hasn't forgotten what started all this. “You think you have the same rights as everyone else around here, wife?”

But you're scowling from the burning pain in your walls, mind hazy and unwise. “Stop! Stop!” Your puffy folds ache from how his stiff skin rubs against them as he moves in and out of you at a normal pace… for now. “It hurts, stop!” 

“That is the part and parcel of having children” your body curves outwards as he pulls you further back and closer to himself by your hair. “And is that not why you're here?” His cocky tone along with the hungry and wondering eyes of the wildlings make you angry. “What you were spared for in the first place?” A twinkle in the eye of a man pisses you off and…

“It hurts, you old bastard!” Your young blood gets the better of you and your mouth runs before sense can catch up. “Stop, stop, stop it!” Since your hair holds you closer to him you manage to land a few smacks to his rock hard arms before you try to snake your fingers under his to pry off the hand that he coils around your thigh in a weak attempt to move away. 

Steve only chuckles, clearly unfazed by your fighting as he bounces your smaller form up in the air with each thrust. “Did your mother not teach you anything, wife?” He lets go of your hair only to restrain both your arms on the small of your back. “Good girls never tell their husbands no” your body flops forward again and you've no choice but to face the long table full of people. “They lay down pretty with their legs spread and let their husbands fill them with their children and then they express their gratitude for being granted a family.” Though your mind is confused and rather disoriented from the influx of sensation, you can make out new additions to the crowd of your humiliation from the corners of your vision. 

“Ugh!” You grunt from the rapid jabs he gives to your sore pussy, his firm hold nearly searing into your wrists. “I don't wanna have your stupid blonde babies!” Steve breathlessly lets out a real laugh at that. “Let go!” 

“There” he can swear he will never tired of you breaking the little character of the obedient wife that you so naively think you have mastered only to break it when he has you all riled up like this. “Right there, easy now” his other hand leaves your lap and he pushes your head down and against the table in the most condescending manner imaginable. Steve has got you to expose yourself for the brat you are, no need for play anymore. “Now I make a bunny out of you” his dark eyes now meet with those of the boys sitting at the other end of the table and his use of their language is a silent message. The Leader knows how his wife is desired. And he doesn't appreciate it in the least. The young males all panic and look away, gulping to themselves and praying for their lives. 

You try to struggle again, your lip curling in disdain and protest as you feel him fuck his cum right up your cervix. The bitter pleasure you get from it makes your head spin and your fingers and toes flex defensively. “Ooof!” Your cheek rubs against the table and you puff out your face to express how tense you feel down there. 

“Brat” Steve shakes in silent mirth as he reaches for your ass with the hand that he was holding your face down with. “Don't you move a muscle.” You're too busy rocking over the table and being held down to try. 

“Hubby, please!” You whine when one of his veins twitch deep up your walls and your knees shiver from the sensation. “Please!” Maybe if his cock wasn't so comically huge, it would have been easier to move past the rough friction of your raw, orgasm worn skins. But it is and so you are ready to abandon the dam that begins to form in your abdomen again if it means to avoid this pain. “Owwwiee!”

“Aw” Steve cooes as he now moves to a pace that falters your vision and causes for the great table to shake with each thrust that he gives you. “So small and sore, aren't we?” The spank he lands on your unsuspecting ass right after is the stark opposite of his tone. “Maybe we shouldn't act out so much when we are so weak and pathetic, huh, wife?”

“Oooof!” One of the shyer ladies get up before she carries her young son who stood next to the group of the young ones away and the realization of the fact that your spectators are all real people who see you everyday and will continue to do after this drips down your limbs like ice cold water. Your hips cannot help but clench from the embarrassment that you dully feel in some part of your mind way far at the back. “Hubby, please!” The spanks increase with each snap of his hips and though the turmoil between your legs takes up most of your sensory powers, your cheeks now begin to noticeably sting from the pain that builds from how the swings of his hand against your poor ass increase with each thrust. 

“Please?” Steve muses like he isn't balls deep into you and fucking the literal daylights out of you like a crazed heathen. “Oh, but I thought I was a mean old bastard” of course, your pleas always only mean that you want more, according to the brute you are married to. They cannot mean anything else, apparently. “And you didn't want my stupid blonde babies” you grunt from the frustration and land a helpless fist on the table. You are in an uncomfortable tug of war between the mutilation of your sensory glands and the tall barrage of tight hot anticipation that cannot help but form in the base of your stomach again because of how hard and rough he fucks you. 

Your husband's main man, Lloyd, laughs in a comically daft voice to tease you and be the insufferable asshole that he is. “You've got yourself a feisty little pup there, Steve” he is the only one who can refer to the blonde haired man by his name. Or maybe, he doesn't care to use the honorific and his usefulness backs him up. You wouldn't be surprised if the latter really is the case. “Don't you agree, my sweet?” He side hugs his own young bride who ironically is one of the sweetest and perhaps the only nice person in this entire village and Lloyd grins down at the girl whom you now notice is blushing furiously. 

Before you can let the humiliation swallow you whole, Steve spreads your burning cheeks and chuckles at the sight he finds glistening and blinking up at him, the madenned hammering of his cock unceasing. “Look at this adorable little button of yours, darling” you are not personally familiar with any of the faces that witness you trying to pathetically crawl away when your devil of a husband begins to tickle your pucker so you realize it was actually not quite hitting you as bad as it does now when you become hyperaware of Rainie's gaze. If it weren't for how your eyes roll because of Steve's hot seed shooting deep up your cavern again and nearly searing into your very flesh this time around from the brutality of it all, you reckon you would have tried to hide. But now all you do is let out choked blubbers as your wide eyes sting from tears due to the sensory overload. “I think it's time we deflowered it, what do you think?”  

Oh, no. 

His cock is not something that you can handle in your ass without splitting all over the place!

“No answer? No?” It feels as though you are the one who is cumming and not Steve because of how good he is at wearing the mask of nonchalance. “Hm,” he roughly pulls you backwards by your hair before hooking an arm around your waist to keep you from trying to get away from how he toys with your trembling pucker. “Maybe we should let sweet Rainie decide for you, hm—?”

“OH, GOD!” You cannot help but scream over him. 

He is too much.

Steve ignores your exclamation, thrusts delayed -more jab like- but so strong that his tip spears into your cervix with each thrust, thus causing for your head to spin from how he chooses to fuck out his orgasm. “She's your friend, isn't she?” Steve's beard gently stings the sweaty and teary skin of your jaw from how his mouth presses into your ear. “Aren't you, Rainie dear?” 

Yep, you are never looking her in the eye ever again. 

“Answer him, sunshine” Lloyd eggs his wife on and you notice through your cloudy vision that he is making her palm his own bulge. You nearly cringe back into Steve's chest from the obscenity of it all. 

The girl, a new bride herself, is shy and small next to her own flesh boulder of a husband as she meekly peeks up at you through her lashes. “Y- Yes, sir. We are friends” her voice is barely audible and both your husbands chuckle. 

If it weren't from how a dull orgasm rips itself apart somewhere deep between your loins, you would have felt angry.

It is like the assholes know that you're friends, and they're having their fun with it.

No wonder they are best mates.

“Good, good” you can feel Steve's cum splattering your thighs with each brutal jab, the sound and sprays of his shaft making a mess of your juices underneath your dress ample in its audibility. “So, do you think it's time your girlfriend's dirty little button was opened up, hm?” He keeps one hand on your pucker and reaches for your boob to grope with the other.

Rainie blushes again and furiously lowers her head the moment her eyes connect with yours. Though you don't know it, her own has been deflowered not too long ago and she isn't sure what response would be favourable by you, so that and the embarrassment of the Leader questioning her for something like that about his wife when she is on amiable terms with the girl makes her choose silence for as long as allowed. And her own husband cockily leaning into her and mansplaining into her ear how it would work for you by comparing it with what he did to her pretty ass only makes her curl further. 

“Shy little thing, isn't she, my precious?” So your husband turns his unwelcome attention back to you, bending the both of your bodies forwards so he can smack your asshole with the back of his hand easier, the impact making you rock violently forward. “Maybe you should learn some manners from her, huh?” The howls you let out from getting your pucker pinched and hit is something you would rather not narrate. All you choose to disclose of that ordeal is that sobs echo in the hall, another orgasm rips out of you and you are sure your body releases more liquid than normal for an average orgasm. “Look at how polite and nice she is, hm? While all you want to do is to curse your husband and be an ungrateful little sloth” it sounds as though a newfound annoyance causes him to grit his teeth towards the end and the tip of his fingers finds recourse in seeking for itself a passage past the tight barrier of your unwilling button as a result. 

And so your mouth begins to run in the desperate way he loves. “N- No, no, no hubby! No!” You vehemently shake your head as you feel your knees start to buckle from the exhaustion. “I- I didn't mean it!” The bearded corners of his mouth pull into a deep smirk. He knows its coming, and he loves it. 

“You didn't?” How can he not when he is the one who trained you to it and taught you the words to say during. 

“No! No!” Your voice comes out child-like from your mind's succumbing to its defeat. For the day, at least. “I d- didn't!” 

Steve is a jackhammer in how he fucks his children into you and works towards giving you more. “Oh, I see” now he speaks to you like an elder speaking to a young one, like you are no older than five winters. “Then, will you tell me why you said such naughty words to your husband who does so much for you?” He knows you're small now and so he chooses his words accordingly.

After all, it is Steve's meticulous tailoring of your mind and body which brings you to act out this specific sequence. 

Nothing less, nothing more.

Just this. 

A shrew tamed into a compliant wife equipped with the mind of a babe. 

He may never admit it outright simply because it goes against his very code of life but Steve knows in his heart of hearts that it is this very push and pull you put up in your own passive little way that keeps him alert and your marriage interesting. 

Addictive.

“Is ’cause— hnnng, cause—!” He pulls both of your bodies back up with the intention of turning you to face him but he chooses not to do it just yet. He wants you, those silly boys and everyone else who suspects that his judgement grows soft because of his fancy for your youthful beauty and adorable personality, to hear it. Steve can always pull you right back down if wants. Your reins will always be in a hand's reach to him. Just because he lets you sneak in your foolish ways sometimes doesn't mean you've conquered his nature-gifted better sense.

“Because, what?” Everything in life calls for balance and so each time your misbehavior that you think you hide so well from him begins to rise above a level he deems no longer amusing, he is there to hammer it down. 

Quite literally. 

“Because I am j- just an i- impudent,” Steve grunts and moans, feeling his cock twitch from how you always mispronounce imprudent when you are in this state. He taught you that word and true to your little baby self and mind, you can never get yourself to say it right. “Little wife and I am a d- dumby—”

“Fuck…” Steve feels a drop of cold sweat trickle down his back from your little vocabulary. He feels himself pant from how hard he fucks you, his windpipe alight from the friction caused by the air he heaves in with each desperate inhale.

You are a proper trouble; something he has never had before, and he loves it.

“— D- Dumby sloth who dunno any real worries besides e- eating and b- being spoilt b- by my lovu hubbsy—” your tongue is kinetic jelly between your teeth and Steve has begun to moan from how fucked stupid you sound. “So I get shtoopid and u- ungateful” Steve cannot contain it anymore. In a fevered and desperate confusion of how to express the thunderstorm you cause in his head, he slaps your hair away, causing for some of the flowers to go flying about, and sinks his teeth into your flesh, growling so deep into your skin that you feel the vibrations cause ripples in your blood. Perhaps that is what Steve yearns to taste. “B- But husby always fixes” your head goes limp against his as he sucks your skin like a crazed animal for you lose a track of how long. Your vision and hearing bolts away from your comprehensive faculties like a bullet train and your body gets sucked into the vacuum of your husband's beastly grip. You are just a lifeless doll rocking in whichever direction and manner he pleases.

Next time your brain catches on with your reality, your body has been placed under his with your back against the table. You faintly notice when your dress begins to get wet that splashes of mead cover it due to your brutish husband's depraved madness. 

“Look at me, hey” he pats your incoherent face until your wandering gaze settles on him, teary eyes distant. “This is the face that you will see in those of your children, and children you shall have until this residence cannot contain any more” his promise echoes in your buzzing ears like the bestowing of an ultimate truth upon you by some powerful deity. “This is the face you will look up at as you spread your legs,” his tip is so swollen, raw and hot against your worn skin that you can feel it even in this state. Your features scrunch from the discomfort. “This is the face you will kiss and cherish” his fingers find your throat again and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he puts pressure on your windpipe. “And this is the face that you will look at until you breathe your last” he holds you until you are on the verge of losing consciousness, though letting go only to stifle the gasp you let out to resume your breathing with a hot sealing kiss.

Your muscles twitch and your body spasms in the position he has you in. Laxness washes over your limbs and you begin to violently shake from the dull and yet stinging quakes of sensation that bloom through your whole form. 

For some dark, twisted and depraved reason, you cum from the helplessness of your situation and it is present in Steve's amused and proud smirk that the knowledge is not lost on him. Swiping an arm around you from behind with an air of satisfaction, he collects your limp body closer to his and walks off to your chambers with your drenched sexes still connected, leaving a crowd of embarrassed, curious, satisfied as well as tamed spectators in his wake. 

You surrender yourself to him and close your eyes as your body collapses on top of his. Your mind barely works but you know one thing— fact as clear as day; you are not making it out of this without at least one child on the way. 

And there isn't a single thing you can do about it.

. . .

[drippingghoneyy]

Summary: Viktor needed some stress relief.

Genre/ Pairing: Smut, Established relationship, Viktor x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: MDNI!, SMUT 18+, BigDick!Viktor, tension, teasing, grinding, orgasm denial, dom/sub dynamics, pet names, piv, unprotected sex, nipple play, multiple orgasms, praise kink, overstimulation, creampie,... (lmk if I missed any!)

Word Count: 2.9k.

Notes: Just a quick draft I had saved!

I’ve been wanting to write about more people! So give me suggestions!

Reblog and like!! I read every comment, they make my whole day!

If you find any spelling errors, no you didn't. Grammarly don’t fail me now 🙂 If you don't like nsfw content, please don't read it!

"Hey, Victor, you okay?" you called out, poking your head into the lab. The room was filled with the faint buzz of machinery and the sterile scent of cleaning solvents. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Victor's head snapped up, his eyes briefly meeting yours before darting back to the paperwork scattered on the desk in front of him. His brow furrowed, and his jaw tightened, as if he was trying to hold back a tide of thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. He mumbled something incoherent, not really looking at you.

You stepped further into the room, your sneakers squeaking against the freshly mopped floor. The fluorescent lights cast sharp shadows on his face, highlighting the exhaustion etched into his features. His vest was half-unbuttoned, revealing a wrinkled shirt beneath, and his tie was askew. The space around him was a mess of half-finished experiments and discarded coffee cups. It was clear he'd been there for hours, possibly even days, working tirelessly.

Concerned, you approached him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. His muscles tensed under your touch, and you felt the warmth radiating from his body. "Victor, seriously, you need to take a break." You tried to keep your voice low, not wanting to startle him further. But as you looked into his eyes, you could see the storm brewing within, the unspoken words, the untouched pain, and the unresolved tension.

He took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes lingering on yours before they slid away again. He looked lost in thought, his mind racing a mile a minute. The silence grew heavier, the only sound being the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock.

The room was a testament to his obsession, a maze of beakers and wires, a silent witness to his solitude. The stark contrast of the cold, metallic surfaces and the soft glow of the computer screens only highlighted the starkness of his isolation.

You decided to sit beside him on the lab stool, your thighs brushing against his. He didn't react at first, but then his gaze flicked to you, his pupils dilating slightly. It was as if he'd forgotten you were there, or perhaps he'd just realized how close you were. The air grew thick with something unspoken, something charged and electric.

The room, which had been a whirlwind of chaos just moments before, suddenly felt very small. The scent of his cologne mixed with the sterility of the lab, creating a heady aroma that made your heart race. You could see the veins in his forearms as he clenched and unclenched his fists, his knuckles turning white against the edge of the desk. His eyes were dark and intense, flicking back and forth between you and the paperwork.

Your hand hovered over his, the warmth of your touch a stark contrast to the coolness of the metal beneath. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, trying to offer comfort without breaking the delicate tension. Victor's breath hitched, and his eyes shot back to yours, searching for something. Permission, maybe? You bit your lower lip and nodded almost imperceptibly.

And that was all it took. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. You gasped in surprise, but before you could say anything, he'd grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his arms. His mouth found yours, hard and demanding, as if he were trying to devour you. You melted into the kiss, feeling the weight of his need, his desperation. His hands roamed over your body, grasping at your hips, sliding up your back, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat of him through your clothes, the evidence of his arousal pressing into your stomach.

With surprising gentleness, he turned and sat back down in the chair, his hands guiding you to straddle him. You winced slightly as you lowered yourself down, mindful of his weaker leg, but he shushed you, his hands firmly on your hips, his thumbs tracing circles of reassurance. You could feel his pulse racing under your palms as you began to grind against him, the fabric of your pants and his slacks the only barrier between you. His eyes never left yours, watching you with a hunger that was almost predatory, his pupils blown wide.

The friction grew more intense, and you could feel the heat of his arousal through your dampened panties. The fabric was a thin barrier that only served to heighten the sensation. You whined softly, the pressure building in your core. "What do you need?" he murmured, his voice low and gruff. You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his ear. "I need to feel you," you whispered, the words barely audible.

Victor's grip on your hips tightened, and he nodded. "Good," he murmured, his voice thick with need. He lifted you slightly, his hands deftly unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down. His erection sprang free, and you gasped at the sight of him. You reached between your bodies and wrapped your hand around him, feeling the velvety skin, the heat, the steel of his arousal. His breath hissed out through clenched teeth, and his eyes slammed shut briefly before snapping back open. He adjusted you slightly, the tip of his cock now pressing against your clit through your panties.

You began to rock your hips in earnest, setting a rhythm that had your breath coming in short gasps. He groaned, his hands guiding you, urging you faster, harder. The fabric of your skirt rustled with every movement, a secret symphony of desire played out in the shadow of the lab's clutter. You leaned into him, your breasts pressing against his chest, and felt the thunderous beat of his heart matching the rhythm of your hips. The room spun around you.

"Faster," he breathed, his eyes burning into yours, his grip on your hips tightening. You obeyed, your movements growing more erratic as the pressure built. You felt the dampness of your panties, the fabric sticking to your skin, a testament to how turned on you were. You could feel every inch of him through the barrier, the veins, the heat, the throb of his need.

You leaned closer, your breath hot against his neck, and whispered, "Please, Victor, I need more." He chuckled lowly, his voice a rumble that vibrated through you. "Patience," he said, his voice a command, but the gentleness in his eyes belied his dominance. You bit your lip, the anticipation making you squirm on his lap. He leaned back slightly, watching you, savoring the sight of you desperate for his touch.

With one hand, he reached up to cup your face, tilting it back so he could look into your eyes. His gaze was intense, as if he could see straight through to your soul. "You first," he murmured, his voice thick with want. "I need to hear you scream for me." He pushed down harder, grinding his cock against your clit through the wet fabric. Your eyes rolled back, and a whine escaped your throat. You nodded frantically, eager to please him.

The pressure grew, coiling tighter and tighter, until it felt like a spring about to snap. You clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "I'm close," you panted, your voice high and breathless. Victor's eyes darkened, and he whispered dirty promises into your ear, urging you on. "That's it," he growled, "Take it, take all of it." His thumb slid down and pushed aside the fabric, touching you skin to skin for the first time. The sensation was like an electric shock, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave, soaking your panties and making your muscles spasm. You threw your head back, a keening cry escaping your lips, your eyes screwed shut. He didn't let up, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit, drawing out the pleasure until you were a trembling mess in his arms. "Victor," you gasped, your voice a hoarse whisper. "Oh god, fuck."

When the tremors subsided, you slumped against him, your breathing ragged. He leaned his forehead against yours, his chest heaving with his own desire. "Look at me," he ordered softly. You opened your eyes to find his gaze locked on you, his pupils dilated with lust. "I need you," he said, his voice a low growl. "I need you to be mine." You nodded, unable to form words, your body still pulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure.

His cock still rock-hard against your stomach. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and he stepped closer, the heat of his body enveloping you. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing aside your skirt, and you felt his fingers slip into your wetness, teasing you through the fabric. "Please," you begged, your voice shaky.

Victor leaned in, his mouth finding yours again. He kissed you deep, his tongue tangling with yours as he began to tug at your panties. You helped, eager to feel him skin to skin. He stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours, and slid them down your legs, leaving them in a pool on the floor. Then he reached between you, freeing himself. You couldn't help but stare, his length bobbing with the force of his need.

He guided himself to you, his cock nudging at your entrance. "Ready?" he asked, his voice gruff. You nodded, your eyes wide with desire. He pushed into you, inch by inch, his movements deliberate and controlled. You felt yourself stretching around him, the sensation bordering on pain but oh so delicious. "Mine," he murmured, his teeth grazing your neck. "You're mine."

You wrapped your legs around him, urging him deeper, needing all of him. His hips began to move, his strokes slow and deep. You could feel every ridge, every vein of him, filling you up so completely.

As he fucked you, Victor whispered in your ear, his voice a dark symphony of desire. "You're so tight," he murmured, "so wet for me." His words were like a drug, sending shivers down your spine. "Every time you move, every little sound you make, it drives me fucking crazy." He placed his hand on your neck, his thumb stroking your pulse point, his other hand sliding up to cup your breast. His eyes never left yours, watching you intently, reading every little reaction on your face.

The lab around you faded into the background, the only thing that existed was the two of you, the desk a makeshift throne for your passionate encounter. He began to pick up the pace, his hips rocking into yours, a little faster, a little harder with each thrust. You couldn't help but moan, the sound echoing in the empty room.

He leaned down and tugged at the collar of your shirt, pulling it aside to expose your breast. His eyes raked over the soft flesh before his mouth closed over your nipple. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. The sensation was exquisite, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud as he sucked and bit, leaving a trail of heat across your skin. You felt his teeth graze you, just hard enough to leave a mark, a claim, and you arched into him, silently begging for more.

He pulled away, leaving you gasping, and whispered, "I want everyone to know you're mine." His voice was rough, his eyes dark with lust. He began to move faster, his hand sliding down to your ass to lift you, to meet him more fully with each stroke. The chair creaked beneath you, a rhythmic counterpoint to the slap of skin on skin.

You felt yourself tightening around him, another orgasm building. Your breath hitched, and you tried to keep quiet, but a moan slipped out. "I want to hear you," he said, his voice a low growl. "I want to hear how much you love this, how much you love me." His hand slid down to your clit, his thumb pressing and circling. You couldn't hold back anymore, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as he brought you to the brink once again.

"You're so beautiful when you come," he murmured, his eyes dark with pleasure. "So perfect." His strokes grew more urgent, his hips slamming into yours. His thumb worked you expertly, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. "I'm going to make you scream," he promised, his voice a whispered threat. "I'm going to make you come so hard you can't walk straight tomorrow."

You could feel your climax that has been building begin to spill over the edge, the heat pooling in your belly, spreading out through your limbs. "Please," you begged, your voice a desperate whine. "Please, Victor." He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Please what?" he taunted, increasing the pressure on your clit.

"Please," you gasped, your body on the edge, "please let me come." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Not yet," he whispered. "Not until you beg me for it. Not until you say my name like a prayer." And with that, he pulled his hand away, leaving you trembling with need. You looked up at him, desperation in your eyes, and whispered, "Victor, please, I need it, please, please, please..."

His eyes flared with satisfaction at the sound of his name on your lips, and he gave you a wicked smile. "Good girl," he murmured, his hand returning to your breast. He began to pluck at your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger as his hips picked up their pace. His whispers grew more insistent, more demanding. "You want it?" he breathed into your ear. "You want to come all over my cock?" You nodded, unable to form words, your breaths coming in quick pants.

"Say it," he ordered, his voice a dark rumble. "Beg for it." You felt your cheeks flush with arousal at his words. "Victor," you whimpered, "please, let me come, I need it." He chuckled, the sound sending a thrill through you. "That's better," he said, his grip on your neck tightening just enough to make you gasp.

With a growl, he thrust into you harder, his movements becoming more erratic. You could feel the tension building in his body, his muscles tensing and releasing beneath your palms. "I'm going to fill you up," he promised, his voice strained. "You're going to take all of me."

You nodded frantically, your walls clenching around him, trying to hold him in. "Yes," you panted. "Please, Victor, I need it."

He slammed into you, the chair practically shaking beneath your weight, the sound echoing in the quiet lab. His hands tightened on your hips, guiding you faster, harder. "You're going to come with me," he said, his eyes dark and intense. "You're going to milk me dry."

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, the pressure in your core growing almost painfully intense. "I'm so close," you gasped. His eyes never left yours as he began to piston into you, his hips moving like a machine, each stroke hitting you in just the right spot.

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Now." And as if your body was bound to his will, your orgasm crashed over you. You threw your head back, your mouth open in a silent scream as waves of pleasure consumed you. Victor's hips jerked, his eyes squeezed shut, and he groaned, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his warmth.

He held you there, his hands firm on your hips, his breath ragged in your ear. "Mine," he murmured, his voice a low growl of satisfaction. He didn't stop moving, his strokes slowing, becoming more gentle as your climax subsided. You felt him softening inside you, his grip on you loosening slightly.

"Victor," you whispered, your voice shaky. He leaned in, kissing you softly. "I've got you," he murmured, his arms wrapping around you. You felt safe, cherished in his embrace, despite the mess of the lab around you.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his. "Do you feel better?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern. He gave you a shy, teasing smile, his eyes still dark with desire. "Much," he said, his voice a low rumble.

You slid off his lap, your legs wobbly with the aftershocks of pleasure. You bent down to pick up your discarded panties, feeling a small trickle of his cum leak out of you and onto the fabric. You blushed, but before you could hide them away, Victor's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. "Leave them on," he said, his voice firm. "It gives me something to look forward to later."

You blinked at him, surprised by his demand, but the heat in his gaze had you nodding. You stood up, the fabric clinging to your soaked skin, the evidence of your passion clear. You tugged your skirt down, trying to smooth it out, but it was a lost cause. You were a mess, and the thought made your cheeks burn even brighter.

Victor had already buttoned his pants back up, his clothes still rumpled from your hands. He looked up at you, his eyes raking over your body, taking in every inch of you. The way your shirt was bunched up, the red marks on your neck, the swollen lips. He looked like he wanted to devour you again, and the thought sent a thrill through your body.

"Thank you," you murmured, feeling shy and vulnerable.

Victor's smile grew, a wicked glint in his eyes, his voice thick with satisfaction, "You're welcome, love.”

[azrielsshadows42]

Azriel SFW alphabet

This has been sitting incomplete in my drafts since March so... idk.

Warnings: I don't think there is any other than some self-deprecating, correct me if I'm wrong, unedited

A = Affectionate (how affectionate is he)

Now let's get this straight, this male LOVES you with every fibre of his body and soul, if you need affection he is there in seconds, he is super observant, so you don't even have to ask, he has at least one small shadow that follows you around to make sure you are alright. Whether you just need to hold his hand or you need him to hold you through the night, he has no problems fulfilling your requirements.

When he needs affection however... is another story, he will almost never ask for it, he doesn't want to bother you, and no matter how many times you tell him it's not a bother he will always feel like he is being a burden to you. You will need to learn how to read him better than anyone because he will not make it easy for you.

B = Best friend (what would he be like as a best friend, how does the friendship start?)

He would be an amazing best friend, always knows when you are feeling down and how to cheer you up, it takes a while but once you are close enough the friendly teasing is hilarious. you would definitely have some inside jokes just between the two of you.

At first it would be him only interacting with you when necessary, he will be as polite as possible cause he doesn't want you to be scared of him but he also doesn't really want to spend a lot of time with you 1) Because he has trust issues and is wary of you, it is kind of his job and 2) Because he doesn't want to corrupt you.

C = Cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how does he cuddle?)

Azriel will completely deny it if anyone asks him but... he actually really likes cuddles, this man is so touch starved he NEEDS skin to skin contact. He is perfectly content to just lay with you in the evenings after dinner, admiring your beauty. And while he trains extremely diligently, he secretly loves when he has a good reason not to train so he can wake up next to and actually have a proper breakfast together instead of just leaving a note with promises to see you later.

Once again will adamantly deny it if asked but his favourite way to cuddle is spooning, he likes to be the big spoon, he loves having his arms wrapped around you along with his wings for extra warmth because he knows you love it, just for that extra reassurance that you are safe and haven't disappeared. He could be convinced to be little spoon for a night if you really wanted it, but it would take some pleading.

D = Domestic (Does he want to settle down, how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)

So, I feel like Azriel would absolutely love the idea of settling down, in concept but would be really scared to do so, not because he's unsure of his feelings for you, no not at all, he loves you wholeheartedly sometimes a bit too much he'd be scared because he thinks you might change your mind. That he isn't good enough or he'll taint your innocence what innocence? It will definitely be a few years, maybe even decades before he is certain you won't leave him for someone "better". And even then, he will need reassurance.

Now when it comes to cleaning, this man is over the top, everything is immaculate, there is not a speck of dust to be found.... ever.

But you see with cooking... I don't know, I feel like it could go both ways, he's either stupidly good at it like, bro??? Where did you learn this? Truly Gordon Ramsey level cuisine. Or... he doesn't know what he's doing, at all. He'll try, he will most definitely try to have you come back to a lovely home cooked meal whenever he has the chance to but... it doesn't always ever come out the way he intends it to. But it's the thought that counts and you really can see the effort he put into it.

E = Ending (if he had to break up with you, how would he do it)

There is only one way (other than unfaithfulness) that he will break up with you, and that is if he feels that you, being with him, is putting you in too much danger. This man has waited 500 years for his mate or anyone to love him as wholly as you do, and ending your relationship will absolutely break him. He'll do it very respectfully and considerately, he will seem composed, yet not cold-hearted, but once he's behind closed doors and he is 1000% sure NOBODY can hear him, there will be tears streaming down his face and the only thing keeping him from going back on it is the knowledge that you are safer this way. His shadows try desperately to console him but nothing they do works, only you could calm him once he's at this point.

F = Fiancé (how does he feel about commitment? How quick would he want to get married?)

He has some commitment issues, the idea is daunting to him but he wouldn't be unfaithful to you, even if it would save his life. He would want to wait a few years before sealing the deal, he wants to know you, your soul, every sweet thought and dark desire, he wants to know everything.

G = Gentle (how gentle is he, physically and emotionally?)

Azriel is all about light touches that leave you wanting more, brushes against your arm with his own, light hand holding, small stolen looks across the room, just the sweetest thing. He tries his very best to hide any emotions he might have that would upset you, very aware of whatever emotional state you're in especially when you don't, needs some help to remember that he is allowed to have negative emotions and doesn't have to be ok 24/7.

H = Hugs (does he like hugs? How often would he hug you? What are his hugs like?)

Azriel doesn't mind hugs, if you hug him, he won't stop you and he will sometimes initiate them but, he's more inclined to other methods of affection; forehead kisses, cheek kisses, hand kisses, small adoring whispers in your ear, more kisses, longing looks, did I mention kisses?

However, when he does hug you, it's usually from behind so he has an opening for neck kisses or when he's just come back from a long mission and needs you in his arms.

I = I love you (who is the first to say, "I love you"?)

You. Definitely you, if you don't say it, the relationship is never happening. He will wait for you to spell it out, and even then, he isn't sure, like: you kiss him on the lips, stare lovingly at him, shyly say goodnight and he'd be like, she could have meant that as a friend, right?

Cauldron save this male; he is in Jude Duarte level denial.

J = Jealousy (How jealous is he?)

On the outside, not at all, very calm, collected, the most you'll see is a clenched jaw, or his hand might twitch toward Truth-Teller. Unless you show signs of discomfort, he will let you be.

On the inside? The leash on his anger is being pulled, and it has been pulled tight. There is no room for give on it. It is so taught that if a bird landed on it, it would snap. Whoever is in range should fucking run. And whoever it is aimed at should write their will and pray.

K = Kisses (What are his kisses like?)

Like I've mentioned previously, he loves giving you little pecks at random points of the day. However, when you're alone and he is just looking at you, and that wave of adoration hits him... he just can't help kissing you slow.

L = Little ones (How is he around kids?/Does he want any?)

Az gets really awkward around most kids, he tries not to get too close to them. He gets over this when it comes to kids he spends alot of time with, namely his nephew, Nyx.

Azriel is really scared to have kids, and at first he is completely convinced that he doesn't want any, though with the right person, He'll have kids, and he loves them more than the world itself. He resigns from his position as spymaster to fully commit to his family, he's got enough money, and he never looks back.

M = Morning (How are Mornings spent with him?)

Most days he is already training with Cassian before you wake up, but every Saturday, he has a slow morning wit you, or you'll wake to breakfast in bed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with him?)

Some nights you shower together, and it's sweet and wholesome, you do your skin routine and he'll watch with a smile fro the door way. You even manage to rope him into a nightly face mask later into your relationship.

He says goodnight with a million kisses all over, pulling the blanket over the both of you and pulls you in close, holding you no matter how much you move around in your sleep. If you're a sleep walker, no you're not.

O = Open (When does he start revealing things about himself? Is it all at once or bit by bit?)

Bit by bit for sure. Every small thing you learn about him is earned, there is no volunteering of information. You have to extract the lore, have to practically drag him kicking and screaming into emotional intimacy. There are no flood gates. It is a tap that never runs, only leaks slightly. It takes ages to get to everything that happened to him, but it is worth the wait. It always will be.

P = Patience (How easily angered is he?)

For you, infinite patience, he will explain and re-explain a topic as many times as you need. He just comes back from going out while it's that time of the year and you say you need/want something else again, no worries, he'll go out and get it for you, as well as being ready for you to say you forgot to tell him you wanted something when he gets back and go out again.

You are allowed to do things that no one else could do and walk out alive, like pranking him, and I don't mean something that Cassian would do, like hide a weapon of his, I mean like:

Azriel walks into the room while everyone is chatting. You immediately notice his presence yelling his name in excitement, heads turn toward him. Cassian spits out his drink, Rhysand's mouth falls open, Feyre gasps, Mor's eyes widen, even Nesta raises a brow. It takes a moment, then the shock wears off, and Cassian bursts out laughing.

"What happened to your hair?!"

Azriel's brow furrows. "What do you mean?" He could see you desperately trying to hold in your laughter, but failed, and sunk to the floor, not able to breathe from how hard you were laughing. He could see Rhysand also fighting it off, but his face cracked, and he to, joined in, Feyre and Mor were not far behind.

"What? What is wrong with my hair?" Nobody could pause their hysterics long enough to say something. He stood in confusion until Amren, the only one who wasn't laughing at all said "It's bright blue, boy" that for some reason unleashed a new wave of giggles and Nesta cracked a smile.

He looked to the mirror hung in the hall, seeing that his hair was indeed a pastel blue, with flecks of purple near the ends. The truth was, he knew his hair would be an unusual colour today, his shadows had caught you buying the magic hair-dye, but he let you swap out his shampoo, as to not spoil your fun.

Even if he hadn't known, the look on your face said everything. "You are lucky I love you" he said, shaking his head and sighing, your smile only broadened at his words, your arms flung around his mid-section and face nuzzled in his chest. "I love you too"

Q = Quizzes (How much does he remember things about you? Does he remember everything in passing or does he forget everything?)

Little secret, Az is actually quite forgetful, when it comes to dates like your anniversary or the inner circle's birthdays (Including his own) he cannot remember it for the life of him. Luckily, his shadows give him reminders but when it comes to the details, like your coffee order, preferred foods, general likes and dislikes, it's like he has a separate compartment of his brain allocated to only you with unlimited space.

"How did you know I liked (Input song name here)"

"I remember you humming it when I walked into the room"

"When? I forgot about this song."

Short pause

"Eight years ago? Give or take."

R = Remember (What is his favourite moment in your relationship?)

If you ask him, he'll probably say when you said 'I love you' for the first time, or that time you woke up after a peaceful night, just looking at him with love but really, it was when he was pissed at Rhys and Cassian for disregarding his dislike of the Illyrians because they wanted him to 'embrace his culture'.

Rhys had sent him to go talk with Devlon and a number of other camp lords when they both had the afternoon completely free, spending it with their mates as if he didn't have a mate too.

After he got back, he had gone straight to you, and you had listened to him while combing your fingers through his hair. He had finally dragged himself downstairs to give Rhysand the news on the camps with you following behind him a few paces.

You waited outside the door, Azriel had opened it, about to leave when Rhys said he also wanted the report of some other mission by tomorrow morning. Azriel didn't even say anything, he'd just sighed and a muscle in his jaw ticked, then Rhysand had made some comment about his attitude, it was spoken with a light tone, but you had had it with his crap.

You had started berating him, yelling, really laying on it, not even letting him get a word in. Not that he could, he was too stunned.

Cassian had made the grave mistake of seeing what the commotion was. You brought him into it. Both Rhys and Cass had to just take it like children being scolded for taking an extra cookie. Neither would meet your eyes when you were done.

You grabbed Azriels hand, pulling him along as you stormed out. Once rounding the corner, you winnowed both you and Azriel to your house muttering under your breath. The only words he actually caught was "Fuck them" before you pulled him into bed and you simply cuddled for the rest of the night and well into the morning.

S = Security (How protective is he? How would he protect you? How would he like to be protected?)

Az is your personal body guard and the shadows are the surveillance cameras. No one in Velaris is safer.

He needs no physical protection, he needs emotional protection. He needs you to guard his heart like a dragon guarding treasure. He needs you to occasionally remind him to stand up for himself against Rhysand and Cassian because he deserves good things too.

T = Try (How much effort does he put into dates/anniversaries/etc?)

In the beginning, he is trying to impress you, to convey how much he feels for you through the dates as he struggles to articulate the enormity of his love. Like booking out theaters, really fancy dinners, picnics with way too much food and so on it's honestly overwhelming.

He eventually dials it back, finding a good balance of well thought out but not OTT (Over The Top). Every once in a while though, he'll still do an extra something.

U = Ugly (What is a bad habit of his?)

His tendency to shrink into himself when he's in pain, to ignore his needs, to put what he wants on the back burner to focus on everyone else.

V = Vanity (How concerned is he with his looks?)

See, the massive injustice of Azriel is that he barely gives 2 shit's, as long as he looks somewhat presentable, he couldn't be bothered to do anything more.

He wears the same thing every day, washes his face, combs hair, and he's ready.

He is blessed with effortless beauty.

W = Whole (Would he feel incomplete without you?)

He always felt incomplete, before he met you, there was a hole, after he met you, that hole was slowly filled up with your laugh, smile, and touch. If he had to lose you, that hole would be ten times as large and gaping, because the entire foundation of his very being went with you.

X = Xtra (A random head cannon for them)

He likes hiding little things like your keys or glasses (If you have them) so that when you ask "Azriel, have you seen my {fill in the blank}" he can stand there with said object in hand and give it to you, all so you'll give him that little smile and a kiss on the cheek.

Y = Yuck (What is something he wouldn't like either in a partner or in general?)

He can handle pretty much anything. There isn't much that could actually detour him from someone he truly loves. He puts up with Rhysand and Cassian every day for cauldrons' sake, but the one thing that is necessary is silence.

Not all the time, and he loves talking to you more than anyone else, but sometimes, after a long, hard mission, talking and general conversation is not something he's up for.

He just needs a quiet night where you're just next to each other, not speaking or anything just, existing.

Z = Zzz (What are his sleep habits?)

Whenever he collapses is entirely up to the mother... unless his ultimate weakness coaxes him into something more regular. If you just so happened to ask him to come to bed early, or asked him to be in bed by 11:00 at the latest because you struggle to sleep without him, and with the puppy eyes and pouty face too, well... how could he resist? He can't go after you have fallen asleep because you hold on to him, he can't just leave in the middle of the night, you'd be cold, and when you inevitably request that he stay an extra 5 minutes, those papers on his desk just have to wait, his mate is more important.

[saeun]

ꪆ୧ ── WISH UNATTAINABLE ┊ A MERE DREAM ﹑ HSR ⤿ starring: boothill ◟ sunday ◟ dr. ratio.

꒰ a player's mission ﹢ ding! quest(s) unlocked. to obtain a reward of 100 stellar jades, knock yourself out with missions involving your favourite! don't get caught up in the dream though.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: i clearly had an idea & needed to jot it down before i forgot about it (old draft i wrote when i js was fresh into hsr bear w me 😢)

COSMIC SPLENDOR AND MERITED PRAISES ⟡ siobhan’s revealed that someone's here for you, insisting for you to not be a killjoy and come meet him.

“drink's on me sweetheart, knock ya'self out,” boothill slides the cocktail at you, giving his signature smirk as its free side dish.

you're not quite sure what you expected, but boothill being a bartender wasn't one of them. actually — it's believable when you think about it.

when siobhan sent you those messages, your mind went to either gallagher or aventurine. (un)fortunately, your guess was wrong. you are now a taste-tester and subjected to subtle flirting? a win is a win.

boothill puts a hand on his hip. he mixed the drink gracefully with siobhan's aid, it's bound to be perfect — hopefully.

“what's it called?” you asked, turning the glass around to appreciate the red and orange ombre. it reminds you of someone, but you can't put a finger on it.

“didn't think that far into it.” he shrugs. “you can name it, sweetheart.”

“i can name it sweetheart?”

“no, i meant... well, why the fuck not.”

you're sure you heard a disappointed sigh from him. maybe it's the alcohol? whatever, it tastes good. the drink's sweet, but it leaves a bitter aftertaste — if that makes sense. it's so sweet that you keep sipping, yet it's so bitter that you're reminded it's alcohol and not juice. a perfect balance.

gently placing the glass down, you slid it towards boothill, “another glass please, gentleman.”

“right away, darlin’,” he accepts your request, refilling your glass with the sweetheart special. this time, he adds a little edible glitter in the mix to spice up the aesthetic.

the glass is once again slid back to you. the only difference is a shine to the liquid. the new beauty to it can make even argenti fall to his knees to worship it (he worships anything beautiful).

“it's so good i can kiss you for it,” you mindlessly reply, licking your lips from the excess liquid.

goodness, do you want him to overheat? is the way to defeat a galaxy ranger a compliment without thought put into it?!

“pfft— uh— well—” he sputters, unable to form a proper sentence yet.

a few coughs later, he regains his ability to speak, “it's just that good ain't it, darlin’?”

“you're the best and i need you in the express to make fifteen of these,” with desperation in your voice, you lean over to hold his hand. it's cold, but not cold enough to make you back away.

“i'll be right with ya!”

THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS ⟡ you received an anonymous message urging you to come to penacony. it felt like a scam, but the messages were too prim and proper to be one.

hmm, something isn't right. you can feel it in your bones. either you're experiencing side effects of being on cleaning duty, or you're being hunted down. has your excellence finally exceed you to the point where you've appeared on someone's hitlist? maybe.

staring at the message on your phone, you squint at it before moving your head away. you must be careful or else you'd be affected by its ominous energy.

there's only one logical decision to make: find dan heng and let him decipher a possible hidden code in the messages.

“dan heng, i need you!” you exclaimed, opening his room's door with a force that should only be reserved for battles.

“did you clean your manners out too?” sighing, dan heng closes the book he's reviewing.

“i think i'm being kidnapped,” ignoring his snarky comments, you enter his room, showing him the pile of messages.

> Hello, (y/n). I trust that you've been well during your trips.

> Have you decided on whether you'll return to Penacony? If not, I hope that you come soon.

> There is something I wish to do with you.

> Meet me at The Reverie Hotel 10 system hours from when you reply. I shall accompany you directly instead of a regular staff.

> That is all. I'll keep the conversations for our meeting.

you shake your head, hugging your body in attempts to shield yourself.

“see! there's no way that isn't someone out to get me.”

dan heng falls silent. clearly, this is someone you've met before, but who? they haven't left any name, let alone a profile icon. there's only one way to find out and that's to reply.

“hand me your phone, i'll reply.”

...

have you been deceived? is dan heng in on this too? why would he reply? suspicion dominates over you. you slowly back away from his side.

“damn... they really do say your enemies are close.”

“that's now how it... whatever. just give me the phone so i can ask for their identity.” his tone's laced with disappointment. he's not surprised, but boy was he wrong for thinking you matured.

being left with no other choice, you surrender your phone and safety to him.

< Sorry, who are you?

< I'm sure we've met though.

“they're typing...” he mutters, leaning into your side so you can see the screen too.

> My apologies. I forgot to set my account.

> This is Sunday, head of the Oak Family.

“sunday?!”

“sunday!?”

this time you both were taken by surprise. out of everyone in penacony that would've sent you a text, he was the least expected. dan heng shoots you a pitiful look. he's pretty sure sunday's still on your hitlist.

“i am not going.”

“it's rude to ignore someone's request.”

“dan heng,” you began, folding your arms across your chest, “you can't make me go.”

in response dan heng simply nods. he walks out his room and into the main area. you're not sure what he did, but he came back to you lounging on his bed in five minutes.

you were already comfortable, with one knee up and a foot on the knee. you expected him to come back, but not with a trusted adult.

“are you serious?”

“himeko, (y/n)'s ignoring someone's request to meet.”

one corner of his mouth moves up. he knows he won this battle. snitching is the way to go, always.

and that's how you're now standing besides sunday. all stiff with nervous laughs, praying to whichever aeon that he doesn't use the telepathy punishment thing on you. it's game over and restart if he ever dares to.

sunday's as poise as ever — with a hand behind his back, he observes the view of oti mall below. it's bustling with life; the noise is enough to do all the talking. truly a one-sided comfortable silence.

“so... how's life been, sunday?” you tread carefully with your question and behaviour. you don't even make eye contact.

sunday smiles slightly, “it's been busy as ever. this is probably the only moment of peace in my schedule.”

and it's silent again. how do you continue a conversation with a bigshot? you ran your mouth with the supreme guardian of belobog but god forbid you're with the head of the oak family. scary.

cold sweat drops. you have got to keep the conversation going or you'll lose your mind in seven minutes.

“been getting into gambling with the slot machines lately. what about you?”

perfect. ten out of ten. a penacony-related addiction.

“i see you've picked up that ipc stoneheart's behaviour.”

okay, maybe it wasn't that perfect. and was that disappointment?!

it's silent again. you steal a glance of sunday and it did not help. he has a relaxed expression on his face. his chest rising and falling with every breath. is he truly comfortable with the silence? you're dying here.

a sigh leaves you. why not just speak your mind.

“to be honest, it's a little uncomfortable being so silent. i feel like i'm being watched by that large eye in the mall.”

sunday's head turns, his expression slightly changes.

“apologies, i did not notice. would you like to take a walk together?” he suggests, holding his palm out to you.

you place your hand in his, trying to hide the smile. you're finally going to do something instead of standing like an npc.

“yeah, sure.”

after your approval, you basically re-toured penacony. he even took you to his office. that's not even the biggest part. the huge wow factor here is that you were hand-in-hand with him. yes, hands intertwined with the most handsome man in penacony. someone should be jealous.

although his hand was gloved it still counts. the gloves are thin anyway — it was basically skin contact. had you known beforehand that sunday's hand was this manly you wouldn't have even complained to dan heng.

COSMIC SPLENDOR AND MERITED PRAISES ⟡ herta bothered you to return to her station, insisting that she needs your help. you reluctantly agreed, but didn't expect to meet the doctor you've been hitting on.

> Come. I need to experiment on you.

< Excuse me?!?

> Aeon stuff.

< Which Aeon is it?

< Herta?

< Hellooooo... Anyone there...?

> [Automatic reply] Hi, I'm currently unavailable, and won't be contacting you later.

< You've got to be kidding me.

> [Automatic reply] Hi, I'm currently unavailable, and won't be contacting you later.

a heavy sigh leaves you. new day, same old herta demanding your presence and going off the net. well, it's been a while since you've revisited herta's space station, and it doesn't hurt gaining new knowledge on aeons. hopefully it'd be quick... and that screwllum's there as well. out of the three, screwllum's the sole one that's gentle.

once you stepped foot in her office, you stepped right back out. seeing someone you've been avoiding to reply to their messages certainly isn't a good thing. the chances of the man you were testing your charisma on being with herta is low — incredibly low — but never zero.

“come here, (y/n).” a voice filled with authority calls for you who's standing to the side of the door.

you purposefully chose that position; since the doors are automatic, they'd immediately open if you were directly in front of it.

“no, thanks!” you yelled, preferring to stay where its safe from confrontations.

inside the office, herta folds her arms. the clock is ticking, and she doesn't want to lose interest before she can glimpse the secret of at least one aeon.

“just go get her. what're you standing there for?”

with a tone as blunt as that, ratio feels slightly offended, but he can't argue. she's right, he can simply bring you back inside the office.

confidentally walking towards the door, he steps out and immediately turns his head left. it was as he calculated: you were right there leaning against the wall, trying your best to act nonchalant while ignoring his obvious presence.

“don't act childish.” disappointment laces his voice, his folded arms shows it, too.

“whatever do you mean, doctor?” you smiled.

ratio's having none of it. he moves his position to stand in front of you, forcing you to look at him instead.

“your behaviour then and now is childish. get back in the office.”

“cut me some slack! do you think the courage i have over text translates to real life?” your defenses raise, poking his chest to enforce your point. “you're intimidating and handsome, dude. give me a break.”

a silence follows. the kind of silence that indicates you said something you definitely should've kept as a thought. nervously, you move your eyes to look at ratio's. the eye contact doesn't last long — like you said, he's intimidating (and handsome).

“tell me something i don't know.” ratio breaks the silence, grabbing your finger off his chest. “but that's not the point here, is it? we have something to do.”

mood: ruined. it's common knowledge to anyone who's been in a conversation with ratio that he's well aware of his visuals. compliments are nothing new to him — it's a shame he didn't act the way he did in your daydreams.

“gosh, you're so annoying.” a voice of defeat.

grumbling, you straightened your posture, making your way back to herta's office. ratio followed behind, observing the you walked. has someone walking always been attractive, or is it just because it's you? a question that he'll be pondering on until he finds a suitable answer.

“hey. you guys took too long. i don't wanna do it again,” herta complains the second she saw you two walk in.

[webslingingslasher]

J, did frat!peter felt bad after the first time he screamed at Trouble or that happened when he started caring for her?

*cleaning out my drafts!

'why do you have to be so fucking difficult?'

peter heard it as soon as he said it. he's not the type to yell at girls, especially nice ones that are trying to help him. it's not your fault he's frustrated.

you're about to leave and if that happens, it'll stick in your mind and that's a forever infraction against him. 'i didn't mean it.' peter wraps his arm around you from behind, you keep pushing forward.

'i didn't mean it, trouble, i didn't mean it. you're being really nice and you're an expert flashlight holder. i'm just mad that i'm doing really bad at something i'm normally good at but that's not your fault.'

you're not fighting his hold anymore, but you're not forgiving him yet either. 'i'm so sorry, i didn't mean it.' you swipe his hands off you, you turn around to cross your arms over your chest and give him a hard look. 'then what did you mean?'

you're hearing him out! sweet relief fills peter. 'i'm doing a shit job at something simple and it's embarrassing because you're watching. i took it out on you because it's easier to blame the person holding a flashlight and not the person fucking up. but that's not an excuse and i'm really sorry.'

you slowly uncross your arms and look at the mess across his room, you're not experienced in what he's doing at all. a piece of something he found in the trash- you can't remember what it is since it's been taken all apart- is splayed over his desk. you might not know how to put it back together but you could see the frustration coating peter's face the more he messed around with wires.

'i didn't think you were doing a shit job.' peter's eyes lit up, he needed a boost in confidence. 'really?' you gesture to his desk, his question was a little dumb. 'yeah, peter. i have no idea what you're doing right now. you're ten miles ahead of me on this.'

'some wires fell apart. i'm trying to sodder them back together but i think a fucking rat got to it before i could so now all the wires-' he stops, you're blinking blankly at him. he's over explaining. 'i don't like struggling in front of you. it makes me feel itchy.'

you don't know if peter does it on purpose but he never says anxious or nervous. it's always itchy. 'i struggle in front of you all the time and i never feel itchy.'

peter holds his fingers up in a pinch, he smiles to show you there's no snarkiness with the statement. 'there's a little more pressure on my side. all you do is tell me how hot i am for being a nerd.' you stare at the box of wires again. 'yeah, still hot. what the fuck is that?'

'well, hopefully it'll be my new-'

'don't care. it's hot seeing you concentrate.'

'even when i'm doing bad?' you look around the room like there's a hidden camera, you swear you just had this conversation. 'you say you were struggling but all i could do was clench my thighs together because all i saw was your focus face.'

peter's cheeks have a hint of a blush. it's cute. 'focus face?'

'yeah, your i'm focused face. your tongue pokes out a little and your eyebrows kind of furrow and oh god, sometimes you do this thing where you tense up but then relax after a couple minutes and it's so sexy.' you adjust your stance, just thinking about him hunched over his desk with a tiny screwdriver makes you bite the inside of your cheek.

'are you thinking about my focus face right now?'

you've been caught and you don't care. 'yes.'

peter grins, his attention falls back on his desk. 'wanna help me finish putting this together? you can hold your flashlight and watch me the whole time.'

you've already agreed in your mind. 'and what do i get out of it?'

'my focus face between your thighs?' 

you turn on your phone flashlight. 'deal.' 

[anakinstwinklebunny]

What if 😏 Reader is helping Anakin get with Padme but he falls for reader in the process or sometinggg like that hehe

PAIRING: anakin skywalker x f!reader

FLUFF ❦

author's note: I don't like how i wrote this but wanted to clean off my drafts 🧍🏻‍♀️and ignore them kissing in the middle of the Jedi temple garden..

It started with an innocent favor.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER was dead set on winning Padmé Amidala’s heart. He’d introduced you to his plan like you had no choice, and, well, you didn’t. Not when he made those pleading eyes and that lopsided grin that always seemed to crack your unsureness.

So yes, you agreed, but only because you were his closest friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there through the worse, the battles, and those happy times. If anyone could help him charm a senator, it was you.

But somewhere along the way, things got complicated.

“Okay, try it again,” you sighed, arms crossed as you leaned against the railing in the Jedi Temple gardens. The sun was dipping low, casting the courtyard in golden glow. You had been doing this for hour straight, and if you were meant to be honest, it was already tiring for you. “And maybe this time, don’t sound like you’re trying to deliver a political speech. She has enough of those”

Anakin groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not good at this romantic stuff. Why couldn’t she just fall for me after I saved her life a dozen times?”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the ache in your chest at his words. After all, who would have known you would develop an interesting crush on your best friend? So hearing him constantly talk about other woman really twisted a knife in your heart “Because women aren’t swooning over lightsaber skills alone, Skywalker. Now, go on. Say it like you mean it.”

He hesitated, looking everywhere but at you. “Padmé, I—”

“Stop.” You held up a hand. “You’re staring at the floor again. Look at me. Pretend I’m her.”

The shift in his gaze was almost..weird. When his eyes locked on yours, there was something so intense that made your throat tighten involuntary. For a second, you forgot what you were doing, literally, just standing there with your cheeks flushed..

“Padmé,” he started again, voice low, almost trembling. “I think about you all the time. You're in my heart, in my soul, tormenting me. I… I want to be the one you come to when you’re afraid. When you’re happy. When you need someone to hold you—”

Your stomach twisted painfully. You held back something between a groan and an eye roll...Well, you still had to learn to let feeling go. Because it wasn’t real. It wasn’t for you. You forced a tight smile and clapped your hands. “Better. Much better. Now—”

“I can’t say this to her.” He shook his head, hands twitching at his sides before running down his face. “...it’s not her I’m thinking about when I say it.”

“Anakin—”

“It’s you.” The words came out in a rush, desperate and unsteady. “I..fuck..i-it’s always been you.."

Your heart dropped.

“What?”

Never in your life your mind scrambled, spun and tried its hardest to catch up at what was going on like now. Yet, out of a sudden, he stepped even closer, close enough that you could see every little imperfection on his already angelic face when your nostrils filled in with his scent

“Anakin, you’re just—confused,” you stammered. “You’ve been so focused on Padmé, you—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, voice breaking slightly. “Don’t tell me I don’t mean it. Or that Im fucking lunatic. Don't do that when I finally have a freaking guts to admit it..." He exhaled a nervous breath "I see it now. Every time I looked at her, every time I tried to imagine a future with her… it wasn’t right. It didn't feel right..I didn't feel right..Because..well, it wasn’t you.”

You tried to step back, but his hand caught your wrist, his touch being gentle yet firm. “I don’t care what you think this is,” he murmured, tone almost pleading. “Just- just tell me you feel the same..tell me you can't function properly like I do, without you by my side.."

You tried to step back, but his hand caught your wrist, his touch gentle yet firm. “I don’t care what you think this is,” he murmured, tone almost pleading. “Just- just tell me you feel the same..tell me you can't function properly like I do, without you by my side.."

You couldn’t lie. Not to him. Not when the truth had been clawing at you for years, months, ever since you met him.

“Ani…I--” your voice cracked, and his name fell from your lips like a confession he needed to hear.

In an instant, his lips were on yours, desperate, searching, as if he’d been holding himself back for far too long. Large hands cupped your face, pulling you even closer, and you melted into him despite every warning in your mind. You didn’t care anymore. Not about Padmé, not about the damn rules, not about anything except the way Anakin was kissing you like you were the only thing keeping him alive, like you were his only source of air.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After weeks of looking forward to a quiet day with you and Rose, Bradley almost messes up his own Father's Day celebration. He's lucky you're quick to forgive him. Every day with his daughter is a collection of moments he wants to commit to memory. Every day with you makes him fall more in love.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, blowjob, DILF Roo

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Do you have any big plans for Sunday? For Bradley's first Father's Day?"

You looked up from your computer when you realized Cat was talking to you. Truthfully, you did have plans, but they weren't big at all. Your husband just kept telling you that all he wanted was to spend the day with just the three of you.

"Isn't it kind of Jake's first Father's Day, too?" you countered with a grin. When Cat sputtered instead of actually answering, you felt like you'd won this wrong of proverbial chess against a master. "It's okay... you don't have to admit it out loud, but I just know Jake is exceeding all of your expectations."

She dropped down into the seat next to you and leaned in like she was afraid someone else might be listening. "He took Jer to the park with Bradley and Rose the other evening."

"I know," you replied with a laugh. "I needed to clean my house, so I kicked Bradley out and told him to call his bestie, Jake."

Cat looked a little panicked now. "No, you don't understand. I can trust him to take care of Jeremiah."

"Yeah... that's good, right?"

"I don't know!" she hissed. "When I moved to California, it was my intention to never ever get involved with a man again. Just me and Jer. And then when he went away to college, I was going to start collecting exotic pets or something."

You tried not to laugh. "Yeah, Jake kind of ruined that agenda for you, huh?" She buried her face in her hands, and to your surprise, she started crying. You glanced around the lab, but Macy wasn't paying any attention as you put your arm around Cat's shoulders. You were very confused as you whispered, "Are you okay?"

Cat's dark eyes were wet with tears as she met your gaze while somehow shaking her head and nodding at the same time. Her voice was raspy and uneven as she said, "He bought an engagement ring."

"Jake proposed?" you gasped, ready to jump out of your seat. You knew for a fact he wanted to, but he kept saying he didn't think the time was exactly right yet. 

"No. I found the ring. He's terrible at hiding things."

You sat quietly for a minute while she worked at getting herself under control, but then more questions started to formulate in your mind. "I know this isn't where you saw yourself, Cat. I know trusting Jake after leaving your ex is something you've struggled with, but if you love him, then what's holding you back?"

Her fingertips were pressed to her lips, and her hand was shaking. You weren't sure she had even heard your question as she stared off into space and said, "I can't even accurately describe it, because it was so pretty. The diamond was huge. Absolutely enormous. Obviously expensive." She paused and pulled away from you, opening her computer like she didn't just let herself fall apart on your shoulder. "And I have nothing to offer except a child that isn't biologically his and a crippling amount of debt that I'll probably never see the end of." When you opened your mouth to respond, she slammed her computer shut again and said, "And now I'm late to meet with Bickel," before rushing out of the lab.

You stared at the door for a few seconds before you took your phone out and started to draft up a text for Cat. You didn't see her again for the rest of the day, and you didn't send the text until you got home with Bradley and Rose. But you meant every word of it.

You're tenacious and strong, and that's worth a lot more than money. You're the kind of person someone would want to buy a big diamond for.

------------------------------

"Why is everything so expensive?" Bradley muttered to himself. "Holy hell."

He was trying to plan out the few days he would have alone with you when your parents came out again for Independence Day. Going back to the oceanfront boutique hotel in La Jolla where you and he had celebrated his birthday two years ago was going to cost a fortune over the holiday.

"Rose isn't going to need money for college anyway," he mused, shrugging at his phone before charging the room to his credit card for three nights. His daughter was going to be a genius. She was already so strong, trying her best to roll over and getting better at holding her head up without support. Suddenly he needed to see her.

Bradley tossed his phone aside and headed for the nursery where you were feeding Rose in the glider chair. When you looked up at him expectantly, he said, "I missed you."

Your gaze was soft as he sat down on the floor next to your feet. "We were with you ten minutes ago."

"Ten minutes ago? No wonder I was getting so lonely," he whispered, reaching out to run his finger along the back of Rose's hand. "Hey, Nugget."

She paused, lips pursed, before she continued eating. It was unreal how adorable she was. Bradley could look at his daughter all day long and never grow tired. He could look at your tits dripping milk all day long, too.

"Let me burp her," he said, making grabby hands as soon as she started to slow down. "It's my favorite."

You handed Rose, who was already dressed in her sleeper, to him, kissing him on the cheek as you stood. "Should I just keep these out for you?" The way you gestured at your breasts left a smile on his face.

"Please. I would very much enjoy it if you did."

You stretched your arms over your head and said, "I'll meet you either in the shower or in bed." Then you were gone, and he was excited to burp the baby and then do whatever you let him do to you.

"Let's see if we can get a nice, big burp out of you so you'll sleep for a few hours," he muttered, pulling one of the many storybooks down from the shelf from his spot on the floor. He'd read every book in the room to her multiple times already, and he couldn't wait until she started to have favorites. Tonight he read about a dragon while he patted and rubbed her back, pausing every page or two to kiss her soft cheek.

She was yawning by the last page of the book, and she did indeed burp for him. When he set her gently in her crib, Bradley whispered, "I can't believe I get to be your dad." He stood there, leaning on the side of the crib until he was certain she was asleep, then he headed for his own bedroom, unzipping his pants along the way.

Bradley found you naked in bed, fresh from the shower and rubbing lotion all over your legs. It was such a mundane yet intimate thing for him to watch, and you didn't realize he was in the doorway yet. "Get in bed," you told Tramp, nodding toward the fluffy mat he slept on next to the bathroom door. "You can't play with Rosie any more tonight. I'm sorry, but she needs to go to sleep after Daddy finishes reading to her."

"I'm finished reading to her."

Your gaze met his as your palms went gliding up your thighs, and you smiled a little shyly at him. Then you reached for the sheet like you were going to try to cover yourself, and he headed for the bed.

"Please don't, Baby Girl," he whispered. "I was really enjoying that view."

You paused and let your eyes drift down his body. "Get undressed and come here."

He did not need you to ask him twice. Bradley yanked his jeans off and tossed them aside followed by his tee shirt and his boxer briefs. You giggled when he climbed into bed in just his socks and hovered above you like he was going to do push ups with his hands planted next to your shoulders.

When he lowered himself down to give you a kiss, you raked your fingers through his hair. He knew there was no hiding how hard he was getting, so he didn't bother. He just pressed himself against you while you licked his bottom lip.

"You're really horny, Roo," you murmured, and he simply nodded. You let one hand drift down along his scarred cheek, and then you were touching your tits. 

He was salivating immediately. He could practically smell you. White beads of your milk formed on your nipples as you gently squeezed yourself, and he whimpered your name. His cock was tapping against your thigh in excitement as he lowered himself down to kiss your lips again.

"It's okay," you whispered. "I know you want to. Go ahead."

Bradley sighed and came to rest on his elbows, letting his mouth meet your nipples.

-------------------------------

You spent all day Saturday running to three different grocery stores to buy ingredients for Bradley's Father's Day picnic lunch. It cost a small fortune to get everything you needed to make chicken salad sandwiches on homemade bread, a charcuterie board, fruit salad, and brownies. Your plan was to get up very early on Sunday to start making everything, but now Bradley's words made you feel like you were going to cry.

"I'm playing golf in the morning."

He was so nonchalant about it, you thought perhaps he was joking at first. But his expression showed a tiny bit of alarm and remorse, and you knew he was actually ditching you and Rose on Father's Day.

When you spoke, you hated how small your voice sounded. "You said all you wanted was a day with just the three of us."

"I do!" he insisted, reaching for you and pulling you close. "That's all I want. I promise I'll be home by lunchtime."

With that, you excused yourself to go to bed. You didn't bother to set an alarm, because what was the point? Rose would wake you up when she started crying her lungs out to eat, and Bradley would already be gone with Jake, Javy and Reuben. Honestly, you would have thought Jake would want to be home with Cat and Jer, and now you were mad at him, too. You thought about texting him but turned your phone screen side down on your nightstand and tossed your glasses aside instead.

A few minutes later, Bradley climbed in bed as well, and you could feel him trying to coax you closer. "I love you," he whispered, but you stayed curled up in a ball until you fell asleep.

Sure enough, he was gone when you woke up. You didn't even bother changing out of your pajamas to feed Rose. Your plans to wear a cute sundress seemed pointless now as you tried to appease your cranky daughter while you made chicken salad and baked a small loaf of bread.

"You'd probably calm down if your dad were here," you mused, handing her toy after toy only for her to push them all away. Finally Tramp had mercy on you and plopped down next to her on her play mat for a few minutes.

Of course the picnic foods looked absolutely perfect, and you struggled to get Rose burped and down for a late morning nap. "I swear you don't act like this for him," you groaned, fighting the urge to start crying. You'd been feeling better over the past few weeks. Your body was becoming more your own again, even though you were still sharing it with your daughter. The birth control and the healing time were certainly helping, but right now, you and Rose came in second place to a round of golf. On Father's Day.

She spit up all over you before she fell asleep, forcing you to change into your dress anyway. The wrapped present on the coffee table along with the homemade card were enough to make you set a timer for noon. If he wasn't back, you were going to eat the meal yourself. Your stomach was already growling.

But Bradley came through the door at 11:58 wearing gym shorts and a tank top with his aviators low on his nose. "Sweetheart," he said, sounding a little bit out of breath as he headed your way. "You look pretty."

Did he think you were stupid? You got up from the couch and turned off the timer. "Where were you, Bradley? Because you weren't playing golf dressed like that."

His cheeks flushed pink at the same time you noticed something wrapped around his right bicep. When he held his arm out to his side, you gasped.

"Why didn't you just tell me that's where you were going?" you whispered, tears burning your eyes. You felt frustrated and embarrassed that you got upset in the first place.

"I wanted to surprise you," he murmured, wrapping his left arm around your waist. "I've been waiting to do this since you told me you were pregnant." You buried your face against his chest and let yourself cry. "Shit. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said I was golfing. I panicked when they called me back and said they could fit me in this morning. I just really wanted to get my second paper plane as soon as possible."

He held you tight with both arms wrapped around you. "You said you just wanted a day with your girls, and I planned a picnic and got you a present, and then you said you wanted to fucking play golf," you sobbed. "Next time just tell me you're getting another tattoo, okay? Because now when you say you're going golfing, I'm going to think you're getting another one anyway."

"Hey," Bradley rasped, tilting your chin so you were looking up at him. "I'm spending the rest of today with my girls. That really is all I wanted to do today. I'm sorry I lied to you. I feel terrible about it now." His brown eyes were sincere which made you feel a lot better, and now you weren't mad at Jake anymore.

"Can I see it?" you whispered, and he immediately started to unwrap his arm. Right there next to the large paper airplane that had Baby Girl written across it was a smaller one that said Rose in the same script. "God, Roo. It's perfect."

"Just like my girls."

----------------------------

Okay, so he came within an inch of completely fucking things up on Father's Day. It wasn't like he planned it that way. He wasn't even sure why he said he was going to play golf. None of his friends would even make a tee time on Father's Day and include him. Or Jake for that matter. Plus, Bradley was fucking terrible at lying. He felt apprehensive the entire time he was getting the tattoo done.

It didn't even really matter if you knew about it ahead of time, but he wanted it to be a surprise declaration of his love for his family. Instead he made you stress out and cry, because of course you had a whole fucking day planned. You loved him that much.

He was right there with you and Rose for the rest of the afternoon. He changed her diapers and helped you pack up the food along with a bottle of pink champagne that was tucked way back behind everything else in the refrigerator. He carried everything out to the Bronco and got both of you buckled in. Then he started driving where you told him to.

"Are we going to our wedding venue?" he asked after a few minutes, and you started laughing.

"Is that what we're calling the parking lot?"

"Sweetheart. That's our wedding venue." Rose hadn't been to that beach yet, and now he was excited. So excited. "Rosie, we're going to show you where Mommy first kissed me and fell so in love that she's incapable of being mad at me even though I didn't tell her I was going to get tattooed this morning."

Now you were laughing harder, and you turned his playlist up a little louder, and the sun felt a little brighter. When he pulled into the parking lot, he backed into the spot where you became his wife, and then he strapped Rose into her baby carrier against his chest.

Bradley watched you pull Rosie's little sun hat out of the diaper bag, and you kissed her nose before putting it on her head. "Don't want you to get too much sun." Then you led the way down the rocky path to the sand below where you spread out a beach blanket. You tugged Bradley's hand until he was on his knees, and then you kissed his nose as well. "Don't want you getting too much sun either."

When he remembered the sunburn he got the day of Mickey's birthday kegger, he shuddered, but you were already squeezing some sunblock onto your hands and smoothing it along his face. You smiled when you got some in his mustache, and Bradley leaned closer to kiss you, and then he didn't want to stop. You ended up on your back on the blanket with sunblock on your nose while Bradley cradled Rose's head.

"Happy first Father's Day," you whispered, running your fingers up inside his sleeve to touch the wrapping around his bicep. "Rose is lucky you're her daddy."

The lunch you made was absolutely perfect. Bradley couldn't remember ever having homemade bread before, and he ate two sandwiches in a row. You and he drank the champagne from the bottle on the blanket before walking down to the water. Your tipsy giggles as he dipped Rose's toes in the water made him smile.

"She hates it!" you cackled when Rose pulled her legs up and wailed. Bradley lowered her down again when the next wave came in, and she pulled her feet away from the water once again.

"Aww, Daddy's sorry," he said, lifting her up and flying her around in the air like a plane to get her to calm down. "I'll take you to Virginia Beach where the water is warmer," he promised. "And we can go to the cemetery and visit Grampy Goose and Grandma Carole. How does that sound?"

His daughter looked much happier at the prospect of warmer water and more time with grandparents. Even though Bradley was here with his family, he couldn't help but think about everything he missed out on. Everything he was still missing out on. 

He never had a dad to fly him around or dip his toes in the water, at least not that he could remember. All he could recall were glimpses of laughter and being lifted out of his crib. He could almost hear a voice, but he wasn't sure if it was even Nick's or if his memory was playing a trick on him.

Bradley held onto Rose a little tighter as you let your head rest on his shoulder. Your voice was soft, barely loud enough for him to hear you over the waves. "I wish I could have met them. I wish they were here to see you with Rose."

He knew one thing for a fact. "They would have loved this little Nugget."

----------------------------

Quite effortlessly, Bradley led you back up the rocks while he carried Rose and all the gear. As soon as the sun started to set, the wind picked up and the air got chilly. Even though you nursed Rose, you knew she was going to need to eat again so she could fall asleep.

"Oh, you still have to unwrap your present," you told Bradley when you got home and walked past the living room table.

"Right now?" he asked with a smirk.

"If you want to."

He started to take your shirt off, and you ducked out of his grasp with a laugh. "Not me!"

"I don't want anything else though," he rasped, still reaching for you, but you pushed him toward Rose on her play mat instead.

"She needs a quick bath while you open your present, and then I'll give you a blowjob after she's in her crib."

"Hell yes," Bradley muttered, scooping up the baby and the wrapped gift and heading for the bathroom. You filled up Rosie's little tub, and he set her down in the water then started unwrapping the present but keeping his attention mostly on his daughter. 

"Do you like it?" you asked over your shoulder, and then he realized he was holding a book. A book about him and you and Rose and Tramp.

Bradley flipped through the pages, staring in awe at the cartoon versions of his family. Each of you had been drawn as a superhero, and even the sketched version of Tramp was wearing a little red cape.

"This is the cutest thing I have ever seen. How did you get this?"

"I had it made," you told him. "I sent photos of all of us to a local artist, and she created the book for you."

"Damn," he whispered, tears in his eyes as he looked at each page again. "I'm such a sappy mess now, I swear." Then he sat down on the floor next to you while you rinsed the sand from Rose's tiny feet and started to read the book out loud. "Once upon a time, the Super Bradshaw Family was just about to eat dinner when Super Dad Bradley's phone rang. The city of San Diego needed help, and there was nobody better to turn to."

The story was fun, and the drawings were silly, and he just knew Rose would probably adore this book when she got a little bit older. And he was so lucky he had a wife who did things like turn him into a cartoon superhero for Father's Day and make him a four course picnic lunch.

He also had a wife who dropped to her knees as soon as they were alone. You looked up at him as you pulled his shorts and underwear down to his thighs, kissing his cock as you whispered, "There's my Super Daddy Bradley."

He grinned as he pulled his shirt off as well, enjoying how pretty you looked below his flat abs with your hand cupping his balls. "You absolutely own me, Baby Girl. I'm a fucking wreck for you. I'm all tattooed for my girls now. If you want me to be your Super Daddy, you know I will be."

You licked your lips and parted them, and then Bradley was in heaven.

---------------------------------

I need Jer to have a dad. I need it in my bones. I also need Bradley to have a sensational 38th birthday before he packs his bags and goes to La Jolla with his wife for three days in bed. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 23

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

@halo-mystic

@sherlockstrangewolf

@theamuz

@khaylin27

[xx-lemon-drop-xx]

Can you do a small fic with Malleus and a female reader where the reader has never kissed before and asks Malleus about kissing? Slightly suggestive but not nsfw if you don't mind?

A/n: It was actually way harder to describe a kiss than I thought it was. I was stumped on this for awhile. The rough draft suffered heavily with being deleted and rewritten. But it's finally here.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, Female reader, mentions of bewbs. It's not proofread for grammar.

Request: Yes

Words: 725.

My Kofi Link is here if you feel like supporting me.

“What is a kiss like?”

A silence permeated the air in Malleus' study as he looked up from his homework. When he allowed you into his study because you had a question he hadn't expected it to be such a coy inquiry.

Still, his lips curved up into a smile that showed the tops of his fangs, peeking out and glinting slightly in the light.

“To ask the Prince of Briar Valley such an inquiry. Clearly you know what you're getting into, (Y/n), no?”

He pushed his chair back and stood up, smoothing down his outfit before turning towards her, the floorboards creaking under his boots the only sound in his chambers. He flicked his pen aside, the green luster of flickering fireflies that was his magic returning the pen back to its proper place besides the papers on his desk.

His room was neat, in a lonely kind of way. Not a thing was out of place, as if it hadn't been moved since having been set there. The room might have been dustless due to routine cleaning, but still had he not been so cleanly, perhaps there would be the remnants on shelves lost left in disuse.

“A kiss has a different meaning to everyone. Ask a hundred different people and you will get a hundred different answers.”

"To me, a kiss can be a fleeting whisper, or a soul searing brand.” His hand reached up to brush across your cheek, before cupping it, his thumb rubbing against the sheen of gloss decorating your bottom lip.

“It can be a tender brush of skin against skin, or a hungry, desperate claim. But always, it is a moment of raw, unfiltered honesty between two people. A moment where they lay bare not just their lips, but their very souls for the other to witness.”

Malleus leaned in, his breath brushing across your lips in a transient murmur.

“It can be as ephemeral as a butterfly's wings brushing against a flower petal- gone in an instant. Or it can be a passionate entwining, a desperate heated claim.”

His green eyes flicked down to your lips, he was so very close, yet so far at the same time, only a thin line separating the both of you.

“Is that enough of an explanation, or would you prefer a more hands-on experience?” Malleus asked. When you nodded, unable to say no to the Prince he shook his head.

“Use your words, (Y/n).”

“Yes.” You managed to choke out in a feeble attempt to not sound desperate. “I would like that very much.”

“Good girl.” Malleus praised, before leaning in and sealing the deal. The kiss he pressed to her lips wasn't gentle, like a lingering dream. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, the want to be joined with someone on more than an intermediate level. To know someone past the fear they showed in front of him and the cowardice of human nature.

He broke apart only for a moment to let you breathe in a gasp of air before his lips were moving against your own again, fangs pressing into the supple skin as if yearning to sink in and bruise but doing none of the above. His tongue, long and forked, split apart your lips, rolling inside to taste and claim.

Malleus gave a hum of approval as your fingers slipped into his long hair, the strands parting between her fingers. He could feel the warmth of her fingers against his scalp, nails lightly scraping in a way that had him twitching.

And finally, his hands began to wander, grasping you by the hips to pull against his body as if you both could miraculously merge together. They searched across the soft pliable skin of your belly, before smoothing and rubbing under the junction of your breasts. Then he pulled back, breath fanning across your lips, now bruising slightly in color.

“You understand the consequences of letting someone such as I stake claim over you like this, correct?” His voice was slightly huskier, and visibly more out of breath. “You may have my heart but in return I have yours. Take it as you will, but know one does not easily leave the dragon's nest. I'll make it so you never want to leave. And you never wish for anything else.”

[oatmealwrites]

NSFW Holiday Hoes: [Frat JJK AU] Nanami x F! Reader

Eating Holiday Cookies!

Finance Student! Frat Treasurer! Nanami x F! Reader

Trying to save money in the frat's budget for all the expensive parties Gojo keeps throwing, you offer to help bake cookies for the next function instead of buying them. Though Nanami has something sweeter in mind he'd like to eat…

Tags: porn with plot, friends to lovers, helpless pining?, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, condom, condom breaks, pull out method, hickies, neck kissing, established relationship at end, gojo is a rat, haibara and ieiri are in on it, MDNI, 18+

Holiday Hoes Masterlist

regular masterlist

Word Count: 9.4k

kinda rushed? LMAO

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

Mariah Carey plays on the television of your shared apartment while you and Ieiri sit on the wooden floorboards humming along. Rolls of various wrapping paper litter the floor along with colorful bows, scissors, pens, and a few holiday snacks while the light smoke from her cigarette drafts in the air. 

“Pass the tape.”

“–Here.”

You seal one side of the box in front of you, tape sticking to each end of your fingertips while Ieiri struggles to tie a golden bow to the strap of a gift bag. Iori had left an additional pile of holiday gifts that needed wrapping beside you on the couch, apologizing while she ran out the door to her part-time job. 

“This is going to take forever…”

You don’t bother looking up from your position with tape covering all five fingers on one of your hands and instead remain focused on folding a loose piece of wrapping paper. “Hmmm? At least finals are done so we have the time.”

Ieiri sighs and finishes the small bow before sliding the gift bag near the love seat and looking at the mountain of boxes that remained stacked beside you both. The song shifts to one off of a Micheal Buble album and you hum along absentmindedly, back hunched over in focus despite the uncomfortable position. 

Despite the 25th passing several days ago, most of your friends have begun to trickle back to campus from their break, creating the perfect opportunity for your belated holiday parties.

“Well,” Ieiri leans over and slides a small shoebox-sized gift closer to her before placing it on a roll of wrapping paper that was laid flat. “Maybe after this we can–”

Ring!

You both pause and look over to Ieiri’s phone lying on the coffee table and now vibrating against the glass with an incoming call. Placing the last few pieces of tape on the side of the box, you flip it over and look around for a spare marker while Ieiri accepts the call and places it on speaker.

“Haibara? You’re on speaker.”

She resumes her task and slides the blade of the scissors up the roll like a hot knife through butter while you continue your search for a Sharpie.

“Hey! Are you busy at the moment?”

“Mmmm just wrapping some gifts. What’s up?”

Like second nature, Ieiri notices you looking under the couch searching to see if it had rolled underneath and silently reaches for a marker at her side and passes it to you.

“Ah, perfect! So not too busy then…”

“Huh? Get to the point.”

Haibara’s voice is light and airy despite him obviously being frantic as the receiver shuffles against something a few times and Kento can be heard in the background yelling at somebody.

“Well it’s the budget again…”

You refrain a snort and pop the cap off the marker while Ieiri rolls her eyes and begins taping sides of the box. “That idiot Satoru again? Seriously, I don't understand why you guys are even surprised at this point.”

“I mean it’s not surprising but it left Kento and I in a tight spot–”

“–What do you mean you needed the rental to have a hot tub? Satoru–”

You bite your lip at the sound, and you and Ieiri finally let out a few laughs when she mutes the call. This isn’t the first time Satoru had gone over Kento’s head for a party budget, despite him being the treasurer, but it always left a mess of issues for Kento and Haibara to clean up. 

“Ok, and why did you think to call me?”

Haibara shuffles a bit on the other end, trying to get Kento out of earshot and avoid any further interruptions. “Satoru is offering to cover the alcohol costs, but that still leaves the function budget empty to cover food and supplies.”

Ieiri hums and flips the gift around to begin taping the other side. “Soooo?”

“So what if you guys helped us? Maybe see if you know anyone with winter lights for the decorations and if you can come by the apartment to plan it?”

“‘Guys’?”

“Hm? I assume you’re with Y/N”

You offer a short ‘hey’ and slide the finished present over to the other pile of completed gifts and stretch the knot forming in your shoulder muscles. 

“Please? Just come by and see what you can do to help us with food and decorations. We’ll be in your debt!!”

Ieiri looks up at you, the mountain of boxes yet to be wrapped, and then back at you once more; Micheal Buble continues singing in the background and a harsh wind has picked up outside. You’re beyond comfortable staying in for the day, but the stupid smirk your roommate shoots you is enough to kick her with your foot. 

It wasn’t a secret between the both of you that you found the blonde, sleep deprived, and stressed out frat treasurer incredibly hot. A top of his class graduate student getting his master’s in finance, there were rumors he had even dabbled in some education courses in his undergrad years. Also the big to JJK’s newest pledge Yuji and personal mentor to other member Ino, Kento was a well rounded man who was liked by nearly everyone. To top off an intelligent, book loving personality, he was beyond ripped. 

Ieiri giggles a bit and you reach to throw a paper bow at her, scoffing when it barely gets a few inches away from your hand before weakly falling to the ground. Kento was adored by nearly everyone, and that also meant there was a limited chance he would actually reciprocate the thoughts you had about him. You had bumped into each other often on campus and grabbed lunch when said events occurred, but besides that and assisting in cleaning up the budget, the man rarely messaged you outside of working hours. 

Maybe you had been on a few coffee and study ‘dates’ but the real meaning of the d-word was yet to be determined. 

“Yea I think we should be able to swing by~” She ducks as you make a swipe for the phone and kicks you back with her foot pressed against your gut,. “–You’re at your apartment right? We’ll be right over.”

The call ends and you give her a light shove before standing up fully and stretching the soreness from your back. Ieiri giggles slightly and whistles at the mountain of gifts yet to be processed while standing up as well. 

“I’ll go–”

“–I already knew you would”

You roll your eyes at her interruption and continue, “if you promise not to do that thing you and Haibara always do when we hang out.”

Ieiri pads over to the kitchen and pours a glass of water while tapping her chin and feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do! You and Haibara always fuck off whenever it’s the four of us and leave Kento and I alone.”

“Maybe we just happened to get busy. Besides, it’s doing you a favor.”

You scoff and walk over to the coat closet and flip through your winter jackets before pulling out a puffer and knit scarf. While yes, you had absolutely 0 game when it came to asking Kento out to things, being “conveniently” stranded with him didn’t exactly produce many moments of casual opportunity for an initiative. 

If he wanted to make a move wouldn’t he make one during those moments as well?

“Whatever, but we can’t be there long– Iori will kill us if we don’t finish wrapping those in time for the Secret Santa.”

Ieiri shrugs and puts out the last of her cigarette on the ceramic ashtray you got her for Christmas last year before slipping on her own coat. 

“Fine, fine… I guess I’m driving too huh?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Kento and Haibara’s apartment is in a cozy complex near the university’s business building and nestled between a variety of coffee shops, boutiques, and restaurants. Along with the best bakery Kento has ever shown you. You barely ring the buzzer for their unit number before Haibara quickly ushers you inside through the intercom and the front door buzzes indicating it’s unlocked. 

“Must be serious.”

Ieiri calls the elevator and pushes the button for the 7th floor while you use the mirrored walls to smooth out your hair which the winter wind has pushed in every direction. Checking your casual outfit of jeans, white t-shirt, and holly red cardigan underneath the parka, the elevator dings and you both step out.

“Can you stop that? You look fine.”

“Fine? I look like I’ve been run over by a snowplow.”

“Yea, well that’s how you always look. So just rela–”

You nudge Ieiri in the ribs and stop in front of the unit number 7-3 for only 5 seconds before Haibara swings it open; your hand still raised to knock against the wood slowly falls down in surprise. 

“Thank goodness! Now get in here!”

The man grabs both your and Ieiri’s arms and pulls you through the entryway and into the open kitchen space right by the front door. You barely have time to kick off your winter boots before Kento walks in from his bedroom and gives a pitiful look to all of you. 

Some purple bags hang under his eyes from the exhaustion of finals and a certain white-haired man’s antics, and his cheekbones seem more prominent than ever from lack of proper meals. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to come.”

“We need backup if this is going to work!”

Haibara marches back around the kitchen island and shakes Kento’s shoulders with a slight panic while Ieiri coasts past them to open a window in their living room; she opens a pack of cigarettes and pulls out a lighter.

“Ok,” you say, leaning against the kitchen island and crossing your arms at the two men. “Why don’t you just fill us in first before we strategize what kind of help you even need.”

Kento mirrors your position and rests against the sink counter directly in front of you. “With Satoru covering the alcohol costs, that leaves us trying to figure out food and decorations.”

“Ask Suguru for decorations. I know for a fact he’s got speakers, holiday lights, and a smoke machine.” Ieiri takes a drag of her cigarette from the windowsill. “He might know someone with strobes…”

You notice a slight twitch in Kento’s eyebrow but ignore it when he continues, “Well, that just leaves food.”

Haibara beams at Ieiri while she flicks the ash out of the window and Kento turns to you thinking deeply, “That idiot said he’s going to be buying 14 handles of liquor… I suppose people will be too drunk to really notice what we serve.”

“Cookies?”

Kento snaps from his thoughts and looks at you. “Cookies? I mean I guess that works…”

“And it’s fitting for the holiday spirit!” Haibara smiles while walking back over from the window.

The two men nod once to each other and begin opening their pantry, taking out basic baking ingredients and placing them on the counter.

You walk beside them and assist in searching for flour. “Any particular flavor in mind? I already know Satoru would be heartbroken if we don’t have frosted sugar cookies.”

Kento scoffs and passes you a sack of all-purpose flour, “I’m not surprised… we can make those and another recipe I know.”

Kento stands up and looks at the ingredients, while you admire the apartment and watch Ieiri walk back into the kitchen after flinging the last of her cigarette out the window. The strung up holiday lights are most likely Yuji and Ino’s doing; getting Haibara’s permission while Kento was in class. Some old ceramic animals sit in several corners of the apartment: on the bookshelves in the living room, on the small end table by the front door, and along the kitchen counter touching the backsplash.

“Swedish..?”

“Danish. They were my grandfather’s.”

You silently hum and back away from the small ceramic goose with a red ribbon around its neck  and look back at Kento who holds your gaze with a gentle admiration before turning back to the various foods on his counter. The decoration’s color scheme of red and white now makes more sense; you return to the counter next to the man while Haibara and Ieiri eyeball the ingredients and hover over her cellphone to pull up a recipe for sugar cookies.

“We’ve got enough to make these I think..shall we start?”

Immediately you break into two groups with Haibara and Ieiri making the base of the sugar cookies while you work with Kento to make the dough for the recipe he already knew. You scoffed at your roommate’s wiggling eyebrows when she immediately volunteered to help Haibara, and you now watch Kento intently while he sifts through ingredients deftly without reference.

“Geez honor roll for finance and a master baker? I bet your CV is impressive.”

“Personal hobbies aren’t typically included on resumes.”

You suck in a breath and nod once awkwardly, standing motionless at Kento’s side and silently cursing yourself for lack of better conversation.

“Thanks though,” Kento mumbles quietly, keeping his head down to focus on the mixing bowl beneath him.

Some blonde hair cascades from the swept back look it was currently fixed in and grazes the pink skin of his cheeks. You take a moment to drink in the image of him, dressed in a blue casual wool sweater, the fabric rolled up to his elbows and showing off his veiny forearms, and khaki slacks that stretched around the swell of his thighs.

“Can you pass the cinnamon?”

“Huh?”

“The cinnamon.”

You snap out of your intrusive horny thoughts and look around the counter before passing a small vial of spice to the man. You watch Kento mix together the dry ingredients, not missing the way Ieiri and Haibara chuckle amongst themselves quietly and turn up background holiday music on the bluetooth speaker. 

Shooting a glance at your roommate, your eyes only lift when the oven dings to indicate the pre-heat is complete and ready to bake.

“Ah, we’re just short of sugar…”

Haibara and Ieiri stand over their own mixing bowl and look down at the contents below; everything else has already been added to the bowl. Ieiri makes a move for the now empty sugar sack and shakes the last few granules into the mix.

“It’s probably fine.”

“The ratio will be off.” Kento moves over to the two of them and takes Ieiri’s phone to eyeball the recipe. “You need 7 parts flour to 3 parts sugar… 7:2 won’t be good.”

You look between the three of them and raise an eyebrow when Haibara and Ieiri giggle to themselves. Setting the whisk still in your own mixing bowl, you walk over to their batch of loose powder and immediately notice that it seems more than enough sugar has already been added.

“Then we’ll head to the store!”

“Yes! Wouldn’t want the cookies to be botched.”

Immediately Ieiri moves to pick up her coat from the hooks by the front door with Haibara hot on her heels and digs through a small basket for car keys. You put your hands on your hips and shoot her a glare and she makes no effort to wipe the innocent grin from her face while shuffling on a pair of winter boots.

“We’ll head to the market right now! You guys continue.”

“Yes! We won’t be too long.”

Before you can even flip them off from behind Kento’s shoulder, the two slip out the door and can be heard giggling in the halls as they walk to the elevator. 

“Those two…”

Kento pays no mind but sighs to himself before getting a large pan out and a rolling pin. “We can at least put this batch into the oven while they’re out.”

Spinning on your heels, you walk back over to the kitchen island and help scoop the dough out of the bowl and onto a cutting board. Without even speaking you both shift seamlessly to place the bowl in the sink while Kento begins to roll the dough flat.

“What recipe is this? You didn’t even need to look it up.”

“Hmm? Oh, I used to make them every year when I was younger.. They’re called brunkager.”

You rinse your fingers off and turn back to the man, now admiring the way he flats the dough with enough force to create a small bulge in the noticeable veins of his arms. 

“I don’t think I’ve heard of those.”

He hums and turns to you with a piece of raw dough pinched between his fingers; you silently take it and pop it between your lips while he watches.

“Gingerbread!”

Immediately, a small smile works its way onto his face and he turns back to the flatten dough with a knife, ready to cut shapes.

“Basically. I used to make them with my mother’s side of the family when I was young.”

“Wow.. that’s really sweet.”

A small blush works its way onto his cheeks at your compliment but he ducks his head down to let more blonde hair push further into his face to hide it. He cuts a few more shapes before offering you the knife to create your own.

The entire moment is warm and soft; Last Christmas plays in the background while Kento pushes back the sleeves of your cardigan without asking as you cut a star shape from the dough. 

“Now that I know you’re a good baker, I’ll have to ask you for cooking and finance advice.”

He doesn’t laugh while he places each shape onto the pan covered with parchment. “I’m not a personal consultant you know.”

Oh shit. Ok, maybe the conversation is still salvageable.

“--But I suppose I can help you if you really want to hear it. It’s kinda boring.”

“I don’t think so, and besides, you’re really good at it.” You stay looking down at the last few scraps of dough. “Plus, I’m trying to figure out how to save up for a car, ya know.”

Kento lets out an air of chuckle this time and arranges the last few shapes onto the pan. “Still not a consultant but,” he looks at your eyes and briefly your lips before peeling his eyes back to the cookies, “I’d be more than happy to help.”

The proximity is enough to make your cheeks warm, and Kento lifts his eyes to meet yours once more. So close you can smell the woodsy cologne he wears, you swear he’s leaning even closer with each passing second. 

Instinctively you lean in and when you’re a breath away from meeting his lips there’s a shrill phone alarm against the counter. Immediately you both backup, as if snapping out of a trance, and Kento reaches over to tap ‘accept’ with a knuckle that wasn’t covered in flour and places it on speaker.

“Heyy~ What’s up, my favorite treasurer?”

Satoru’s voice chirps through the receiver and you stifle a giggle while Kento rolls his eyes. Using the remaining dough scraps, you attempt to forge little shapes beside him.

“Making cookies since you left us with no budget to purchase food.”

“Oooo! Are you making my favorites?”

“Yes we’re making sugar cookies the way the recipe intends, no ‘extra sweet’ ones you seem to demand so much.”

A giggle is heard through the speaker and you show your final shape of an attempted gingerbread man to Kento who smiles gently and nods in indication to add it to the pan. Stepping back, you move to open the oven door.

“Anyways~~ I heard from Ieiri that Y/N’s coming to the party. Either make your move now or I’ll tell Suguru he can ask her out instead.”

Despite holding the tray and standing right in front of the oven, Kento nearly trips forward to shove them inside before pivoting to grab his phone off the counter. Not caring if flour or residual dough gets on the screen, he takes it off speaker and awkwardly rushes over to the living to continue the call.

Huh? ….Ask you out? He wanted to ask you out???

You shut the oven door and make a mental note of the time before turning to watch Kento whisper-yell into his phone while pinching the bridge of his nose. His body refuses to turn around and face the kitchen again; you stand awkwardly after washing your hands and having no imminent task to complete.

“No you idiot… Are you aware that you’re not helping whatsoever?..... Ok fine, fine… just, don’t say anything to him.”

It feels wrong to even hear half the conversation despite needing answers as to what the fuck was currently happening. The conversation lasts maybe another 90 seconds before a long sigh can be heard escaping his lips and you quickly attempt to make yourself look busy. As if you weren’t hanging onto every word.

He slides his phone into his back pocket and approaches the kitchen with an awkward look on his face, not quite making eye contact.

“I won’t pretend like you didn’t hear that idiot on the phone…and I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” he pauses and looks up at you apologetically. “If you would rather go home… I know Ieiri was your ride. I can order you an Uber…”

…huh?

You pause and watch the man in front of you with cheeks so warm they could fry an egg and eyes open so wide they may pop out of your skull.

“What?”

Kento locks eyes with you and moves to stand against the counter, giving several feet of respectful space, and rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean I knew I should’ve never even told Satoru anything to begin with… I understand if you have feelings for Suguru and find this as awkward as I do right now…”

It takes several moments before thoughts can be translated into a coherent and understandable sentence, though it’s not the most articulate: “You like me?”

Despite being a boiled down version of what was actually happening, Kento just raises his eyebrows at your slight forwardness before nodding curtly. 

“Yea, I do. I just… haven’t figured out how to come forward with it, until now..”

There’s a steady pause as his words sink in; the moment doesn’t even feel like reality as you stand there processing the gravity of everything before it comes crashing down.

“I feel the same,” you say as you take a careful step forward to close the distance slightly. “Ieiri always clowns me for never making any kind of move.”

“Well that makes two of us.. Haibara isn’t exactly subtle at trying to get me alone with you.”

You take another step forward and laugh at the simplicity of everything, shaking your head and not noticing the way Kento moves to close the space. He leans against the same side of the island with you and hovers inches away while he tugs your hand away from your face with a curious smile on his lips.

“What’s so funny?”

Waving slightly with your free hand, a few more giggles escape your lips while Kento moves to lean his head down towards yours.

“Are you laughing at me?” he questions playfully.

“Mmm maybe.”

You blink slowly at him once, a smile on your lips when he finally nudges his chin closer to connect your lips. Instinctively you shut your eyes and lean into the motion, a small smile on your face at how simple everything seemed.

With a few more pecks Kento backs up slightly, “it’s gonna be hard to kiss you if you keep smiling like that.”

There’s no pause for your response and he leans his head back down to kiss you once more, though not as gently as the first time. The hand that he had used to hold your hand a moment before now rests respectfully on your hips while his other pushes locks of hair away from your face.

The smile falls from your lips as you lean your head in further to match the force and your hands snake up to wrap around his neck and lazily rest on his broad shoulders. Music in the background isn’t enough to deafen the pounding heartbeat in your ears and Kento pushes further into the kiss, his nose occasionally brushing your cheek from the force. 

In a drunken haze you pull him in closer, as if it were even physically possible, and your legs pivot to push your ass flush against the counter while Kento stands between your legs. Despite the intoxicating flavor of his lips, you can’t help but notice how PG the whole moment was.

Normally this would be fine… normally. But you’ve been thinking about this man for months on end and the fact he’s keeping his hands so painfully respectful at your hips has you craving something more. 

Without disconnecting your lips, your hands snake down his sharp shoulder blades and then forearms before resting on his wrists. Before he can mumble a phrase into your lips, you push his hands down and back to rest against the swell of your ass.

Immediately, he leans back a bit and looks into your eyes. “Are you sure that’s alright?” 

He pants lightly with pupils blown so wide they look black instead of hazel. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

A chill shiver runs down your spine and you instinctively lift your hands off his wrists in slight shock. Fuck. The last thing you wanted to do was pressure him into something he didn’t want.

“O-Oh! I’m sorry…  I should’ve–”

“–No.” Kento leans forward and interrupts, “I want to do…that. To touch you and more.. But I didn’t want you to think that’s all I’m actually after.”

You pause and look up at his face, with lids half closed as you drink in the way his usual rational and put-together appearance begins to melt. 

“So what are you after?”

Kento sucks in a breath and looks around aimlessly for a moment while shaking his head; this conversation was not something he was expecting to have when Haibara had invited you and Ieiri over. 

“I wish I could do this a bit more properly but-” He looks back down at you and admires your eyes before lingering on your lips. “Something serious. Something real. I’m not really a guy who does anything like this casually.”

“Me neither. I don’t usually kiss and grind against the people I cook holiday cookies with.”

Kento actually laughs at this and leans down to peck your lips chastley, his hands still on your ass, but the pressure never increases.

“Good, the idea of anyone else being able to do this pisses me off a bit.”

“Mmmmm like Suguru?”

This causes a scoff to escape his lips and his fingers to dig slightly into the flesh of your ass, “Don’t.”

A coy smile works its way onto your lips while you return to wrap your arms around his neck and pull his mouth to hover just above yours. His lips purse slightly, in both feigned annoyance and eagerness to reconnect your mouths once more.

“Or what?”

That's all it takes for Kento to push his face forward and meet your lips with passion and sink his fingers into the flesh of your ass. It’s light at first, but when your fingers pull on the strands of his blonde hair, the pressure increases and begins to knead.

Tugging his neck down further, you tilt your head to the side and deepen the kiss, parting your lips slightly when his tongue swipes against your own. Kento isn’t sure what he enjoys more in this moment, the taste of the spiced dough on your tongue or the sweet fruity chapstick that lingers on your lips. 

Fingers squeeze and tug at the flesh of your ass and after a moment you snake one hand down to rest on his wrist and drag it up to cup your breast. Immediately the both of you groan into the kiss and Kento raises his other hand to now knead at both of your tits. 

Fingers cup the underside of your breasts while his thumb pads circle and push against your bra where your nipples harden underneath. Squeezing and palming at your tits while his tongue explores your molars is enough to cause your aching cunt to squeeze pathetically around nothing. 

“Fuck,” Kento parts from your lips and pants slightly before delving down to kiss and bite at the flesh on your neck. “Driving me insane right now baby.”

There isn’t time to linger on the pet name before he sinks his canines into your neck and begins sucking the flesh. His hands leave your tits and wrap around to squeeze at your ass while his pelvis finally grinds harder against your hips; his erection begs for some sort of friction.

Kento runs the flat of his tongue over the skin a few more times before kissing it in a weak apology for the bruise and moves on to another section of your neck. He places a few quick kisses to your pulse point right under the jaw before biting once more; his nose tickles the skin just below your ear.

“Ha.. you seem…nnghh.. Excited,” you barely groan out, head tilted back and to the side to allow more room for his ministrations. 

Kento places a few more kisses to the spot before trailing his lips down the side of your neck in search of the next place to leave another purple hickey.

“Of course I am.” His lips stop just above your collarbone as he murmurs into the flesh, “I used to get so fucking worried you would see the boner in my jeans whenever we would get lunch together… didn’t want you to think I was some sick pervert.”

You gasp when his lips suck against your flesh before breaking into a slight giggle and tugging at his hair.

“Mmmm I’m beginning to think exactly that.”

He lifts from your collarbone with a pop! from the suction and scoffs before nuzzling into the other side of your neck. Planting chaste kisses while his hands slide down and his thumbs rub circles on your hip bones. 

“Well if you knew what I was thinking… you wouldn’t be far off the mark.”

You shiver at the words and tug his hair to tilt his head upright and drag his lips to meet yours. Immediately he tilts into it further and chases after your lips every time you part to take a breath. As if addicted, his lips refuse to leave yours for more than a moment at a time, holding your hips still while he pathetically ruts his throbbing cock against the fabric of your jeans.

With one more grind against your hips that leaves your cunt drenching your panties in a desperate heat, you tug his head back. A whimper nearly escapes his lips at the action of being deprived of your lips and the sting of his hair being pulled when you look into his eyes.

You wrap one hand to cup his cheek which he instinctively leans his head into and places a chaste kiss into your palm. His eyes don’t leave yours while you both pant a few times. 

Taking a breath you slide your other hand flat down his chest and take in the softness of his wool sweater and the firmness of his pectorals and abs underneath. You break eye contact and watch your hand trail further down until your fingers trace the hem of his khakis and toy with the belt loops of the fabric.

Before you can even move to the button, his hand leaves your hip and holds your wrist firmly in place. You silently swallow and look back up at him.

Maybe he doesn’t want to go further… maybe he wants to leave it here.

A few more doubts swirl in your mind while you furrow your brows in thought before Kento leans in to kiss your palm against his cheek once more.

“Don’t.” He kisses your hand again. “Let me make you feel good.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you nod once before he tugs you into him and away from the counter. His hands run under your ass to where the flesh meets your thighs and tilts his head up.

“Jump f’me.”

Immediately you respond to the command and jump up while Kento’s arms grab the underside of your jeans and hoist you up to match your pelvis to his. Your feet don’t have time to wrap around his waist before he walks forward again and places you on the kitchen island.

Stepping back he walks to the oven and dutifully shuts off the heat before eyeing you once again like prey.

“Making cookies can wait,” he walks over and splays your thighs to stand between them. “I’d rather eat one right now…”

The way he looks down at you is enough to make your gut do cartwheels with excitement; the calm and rational man in front of you is now replaced with one desperately oozing carnal desire.

He leans down to capture your lips once more before gently pushing your back flat against the counter; he pushes the mixing bowls and dry ingredients to the side to make room. As soon as the cool marble of the counter top flushes against your warm skin, you can feel him play with the button of your jeans.

“This ok, baby?”

You peer down and admire the way he hunches over and pants lightly against your exposed navel from the way your shirt has ridden up slightly. Swallowing, you nod once more, heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Kento places a light kiss against your navel and pops the button open and slides the zipper of your jeans down.

“Usually, I’d prefer words, but,” he taps your hips to indicate for you to lift them and he drags the fabric down to your ankles and pulls them to the floor, “we can work on that later.”

Immediately you move to shut your thighs in embarrassment but his hands catch your knees and push them apart again. You whimper slightly as he hunches over a bit more to admire the way your lace panties are stained with a dark patch of arousal.

His breath is hot against your inner thighs when he takes his index finger to run up and down the patch in half amusement and half awe. 

You make a pathetic attempt to shut your thighs again. “It’s embarrassing…”

Kento stops his finger mid swipe and pushes into the fabric to sop up more of the wetness seeping from your aching cunt. You twitch at the sensation and look up at the ceiling in attempt to cool the heat in your cheeks.

“Not embarrassing,” he says as he releases the pressure and leans down to place a quick kiss to the patch before hooking his fingers around the elastic waistband. “It’s all for me… right?”

He pulls your panties down partially and taps your hips once more to indicate for you to briefly lift up again.

“Nngh..y-yea..”

Your voice is weak in your throat but the silence and lack of touch makes you tilt your head up once again to watch them man. Sitting up on your elbows briefly, you don’t miss the way he palms the fabric of your panties into a smaller bundle and slips them into the pocket of his khakis.

“Hey–”

“Mm?” Kento pushes them further into his pocket before resting his hands on your knees to keep them spread. “I didn’t mean to ruin them…”

He leans down and pants lightly against your cunt, “It’s only fair I wash them and later…promptly return them.”

Before you can make a remark that he is indeed perverted, Kento opens his mouth and licks a long stripe up your pussy. Leaning back against the counter once again at the sensation, the man between your thighs doesn’t hesitate to initiate a disgustingly sloppy french kiss against your cunt.

Lips moving against your cunt, his tongue works its way inside and moves to massage the walls of your pussy. Lifting his hands away from your knees and letting your thighs cup his ears like muffs, one hand goes to splay the opening to your cunt wider while the other rubs circles into your clit. 

“Ahhh… fuck!”

Kento’s nose rubs against the flesh where your pussy and inner thigh meet, occasionally tickling you despite the intense pressure of his mouth against you. With one more thrust of his tongue inside, he lifts his face slowly to reattach his lips to your clit.

His chin is covered in a mixture of wetness and saliva but he pays no mind; his index finger slowly inches inside while his tongue ruts against your clit. You throw your head back at the delicious stretch against his finger and twitch your hips at the sensation of his lips suckling on your nerves. 

“Fuck baby… you’re pretty tight.” He leans back and looks up at you from your thighs, eyes half closed in drunken pleasure, “gotta make sure you’re warmed up before you can take me.”

The idea of letting the put together and posed Kento have his way with you makes you clench pathetically around his finger.

He leans back once more. “Just got so much wetter.” He adds a second finger and shamelessly watches your face contort with pleasure. “Gonna be the death of me.”

You whimper at his words and grind against his fingers, the familiar knot in your abdomen getting tighter. Kento doesn’t mind the awkward half-hunched position he’s in as he increases the speed of his tongue and continues finger fucking you in attempt to find that particular spot. 

“K-Ken… nnngh FUCK..”

You can’t even mumble his whole name, too dizzy from the pleasure coursing through your veins. Feeling the knot get tighter you bite your lip and run a hand through his hair and tug at the scalp lightly before gently pushing his head back. 

Immediately, the man stops and looks up at you in worry; your slick and his saliva still coating his chin in a shiny sheen.

“I-Is everything ok?” He stands up fully and searches your face intently. “Did I hurt you?”

The soft and intimate tone of his voice spurs butterflies in your stomach and you sit up fully on the counter to face him. On instinct, Kento steps between your thighs and leans his head down to search your face; his forehead hovers only an inch above yours.

“I’m ok, Kento. Really… I am.”

You tilt your chin upward to peck his lips and he immediately latches his mouth to yours, showing all his worry and attentiveness through the action. When you lean back his lips chase yours for a moment and his eyes search yours; the taste of your own slick now coating your lips.

“I’m ok.”

“Then.. why did you–”

“–I want to come… I want you to make me cum..”

He searches your face in a brief confusion, eyebrows furrowed in a ‘V’ shape before you continue.

“I just…” The admission makes your cheeks burn, but before you can turn your head away he lifts his hand to hold your cheek and face forward. “I just… wanted to cum.. On your cock…”

Despite whispering the words, the man hovering right in front of you hears each one and opens his eyes in a slight shock before grinning.

He leans down and kisses you once again and sighs in relief, “Oh thank goodness… I was worried you were having second thoughts about me, baby.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you again and smile up at him, “Never.”

“Good. To be fair I wasn’t sure I would even be able to stop now that we’ve started.”

The contrast of his behavior to his gentlemanly nature makes you grin and connect your lips once more before he backs up and offers a hand. Slipping your fingers in his, you slide off the counter and admire the way he bends down to collect your jeans before leading you to his bedroom.

You take a moment to admire the room while he moves to lock the door and neatly fold your pants. His bed is tidy and neat but the desk by the window is scattered with a variety of papers, coffee mugs, and trail mix containers. There’s a floor lamp that brings a warm glow to the room in addition to the natural light which makes it extremely cozy.

Despite there being maybe one article of clothing on the floor, Kento immediately moves to awkwardly organize things.

Dusting off the tops of his dresser and fixing the high school photo of him, Haibara, Suguru, and Satoru he turns to you. “Sorry for the mess… I wasn’t expecting company here today.”

You chuckle and move to admire the photo next to him, “Woa, your hair! I didn’t know you had an emo phase.”

Kento rolls his eyes and moves to smooth the pale brown comforter flatter while you drink in the rest of his room. A small record player sits on the top of a small bookshelf in the corner while his walls are neatly decorated with a variety of travel posters of places he’s been and wishes to go.

“Malaysia?” You mumble while moving to step next to him again.

“My dream vacation.”

You smile and wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss, only stopping when he backs up to pull off his sweater and undershirt in one movement. The sight of his toned body is enough to make you clench around nothing. Once the fabric is flung to the floor he reaches forward to cup your jaw and slides his tongue back into your mouth as if it was more comfortable in yours than in his.

Your legs hit the back of the bed from the force and you disconnect your lips to peel off your cardigan and sweater. You let him admire the matching lace fabric of your bra for a moment before you undo the metal clasps and drop it to the floor. 

His hands lift to knead your now uncovered tits and you moan into his mouth from the sensation when he takes his fingers to pinch your hardened nipples. Shivers running down your spine, the lack of previous release creates an extra needy whine escaping your lips.

The erection painfully pushing against the fabric of his khakis grinds into the flesh of your pelvis; when your hands move to undo the button and fly, Kento doesn’t stop you this time. Tugging the fabric to his mid thigh, his cock now pushes against the thin fly of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. 

A dark gray patch is stained from the pre cum leaking pathetically from his tip and his hips twitch as soon as your fingers ghost the outline of his cock. Kento’s lips trail your neck while you palm his cock through the underwear; his teeth nibble the flesh behind your ear while light moans escape.

Before you can dip your hands into the waistband, Kento lightly pushes you back onto the bed and captures your lips once more. You scoot back to the pillows at the top of his bed and rest on your elbows when you watch him shimmy the boxer briefs down and free his cock to the air. And he’s definitely well endowed. 

Slightly larger than average, the thickness is enough to make your cunt clench around nothing when you imagine the delicious stretch. A noticeable blonde happy trail starts at his navel and goes down to the base of his cock, though everything is neatly trimmed.

Kento notices your stare and awkwardly smiles before giving himself a few pumps and walking back up to the bed. Before you can sit up right and welcome him back to the space with your lips on his, he backs up.

“Ah, condom.”

He pivots and opens his nightstand to dig around for a spare rubber; he nearly gives up the search until his fingers graze a familiar foil texture. Sighing gently in relief, he shuts the drawer and climbs up onto the mattress to meet you.

You meet his lips and lay down further to accommodate the way his body hovers perfectly above yours like a puzzle piece. He reaches down to rub your clit a few times while sucking gently on your neck before pulling back and sitting on his ankles.

He tugs the edge of the foil open and pulls out the lubricated condom; Kento gives a few more pumps to himself before lining his cock the ring of the rubber. Eyebrows furrowed at the motion, you both watch in a shocked horror when the edge of his thumbnail catches on the latex and rips a noticeable hole in the side.

“Fuck.”

Kento tugs it off and tosses it into his bedroom trash before digging through his nightstand again with a frustrated look.

“I don’t think there are any more… shit.”

You sit up and look at the man and gnaw on your lip. Any other time, you would use reasonable sensibility and just offer reciprocating oral between you both. That’s any other time.

“Pull out?”

Kento whips his head around so fast it nearly breaks and mumbles out, “huh?”

The desire coursing through your veins and sight of his cock makes your mind drunk. “Just pull out? Yea?”

Normally Kento would scoff and say how risky that method was in preventing unwanted pregnancies. Normally. Instead he mirrors your drunken gaze and nods slowly, “Yea… I’ll just pull out.”

He walks to the edge of the bed and pulls your ankles so your hips hover in the air in line with his pelvis. For good measure he taps his flushed pink tip to your swollen clit a few times; pearls of pre cum leaking profusely from the tip.

Locking eyes with you for a moment, he sinks in inch by inch, groaning at the sensation of hitting it raw. You lean your head back and wince slightly at the stretch while Kento’s hands immediately move to intertwine with yours.

Kento was expecting you to leave as soon as that idiot Satoru had accidentally aired his pathetic feelings, not for you to reciprocate those same desires and lay beneath him squirming while his cock splits you open. The sight is one he wants to immortalize in his memory: the way your head is thrown back in pleasure from the sting of the stretch, the little nod you make to indicate it’s ‘ok’ to move, and the beautiful way your tits bounce up and down with each thrust.

“F-fuck… Kento..”

Your legs are positioned straight up on his shoulders while he stands and thrusts into your cunt as you lay partially on his bed. There’s a mix of his eucalyptus detergent on the sheets and the raw scent of sex in the air.

His cock pushes in deeper with each thrust, bullying the opening of your cervix despite the facade of a gentleman on his face. Heavy balls slap against the underside of your ass, giving an audible ‘plap’ ‘plap’ ‘plap’ echoing in the room and sweat begins to drip down his temples. 

Each stroke has him bottoming out and pushing the stubble of his pubes against your puffy clit for the stimulation you’re craving. The sensation of his cock splitting you open and smack of skin against yours has the familiar sensation building in your abdomen. 

Looking up, Kento nearly looks pained from the concentration on his face. You raise an eyebrow but he shakes his head and lets out a shaky breath and places a chaste kiss to your ankle on his shoulder.

“I-I’m… ahhh.. Fine baby… just trying not to cum.. Haaa”

Eyebrows furrowed in deep thought, the sensation of your cunt clenching around him leaves Kento trying to imagine Satoru’s face to avoid cumming too early. He’s supposed to be a gentleman, and well… nice guys finish last right?

Swallowing thickly, Kento moves to hold one of your legs steady on his shoulder while the other rubs circles against your clit. The combination of his cock rutting against your g-spot while the pad of his thumb rubs against your nerves causes a long whine to escape your lips.

“K-kento… fuck!.. G-Gonna cum…”

A gush of arousal seeps from your cunt and your walls clench around his cock while your orgasm washes over you. Head back in pleasure while your nails dig indents into his forearms, your hips twitch to ride your orgasm.

As soon as you regain a steady breath, Kento’s hips stutter and he pulls out with a ring of your cum smudged at the base of his cock. Giving a few extra pumps, hot ropes of cum spill out and over your stomach while your name escapes his lips like prayer.

The warm and sticky sensation coats your abdomen while Kento hovers above you panting; your legs fall from his shoulders and are split around his waist. The moment is raw and vulnerable for a few moments before the post-orgasm clarity washes over both of you.

“I’ll grab a washcloth…hate that I made such a mess of you again.”

You sigh and blink wearily while sitting up on your elbows, smiling at the joke he had made. Watching Kento slip on his boxer briefs and slide out of the room to the bathroom, you exhale and lean further into the comforter of his bed in a sleepy haze.

You don’t even notice when he reopens the door with a warm washcloth in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other. “Don’t tell me you’re asleep already.”

A gentle hum leaves your lips as you sit up and watch the way he gently wipes his cum from your skin and offers you the water.

He stands back up and looks down at you sitting contently. “Though the image of you in my bed is something I can definitely get used to.”

Before you can answer, a light ‘ping!’ rings out from the pants pocket of Kento’s khakis. You can exchange a glance and he leans down to retrieve his phone and stare at his screen in shock.

“What’s wro–”

“They said they’ll be back in 5.”

Your words die in your throat and you both immediately make a break for the bathroom to clean up as fast as possible. After briefly fixing his hair, Kento leaves you to pee after you shoo him out with a, ‘no man is worth a UTI’. 

Washing your hands and briefly wiping away any smudged mascara, there’s a short courtesy knock and Kento’s hand pokes out through a crack in the door. 

“Sorry there’s no time for a shower….maybe later if you wanna stay, you can take one.”

“Thanks,” you say while grabbing the clothes and changing behind the door as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out. “I’ll be out in a second.”

The door shuts again and you toss the oversized ‘Finance Department’ shirt and JJK sweatpants on while rolling your eyes at the lack of underwear provided. You wander out of the bathroom and stop in the hallway to watch the way Haibara and Ieiri are carrying several bags of groceries into the apartment. 

“I thought you went out for sugar? What’s all this?”

Haibara slips past Kento and begins pulling out various bags of chips and snacks from the bag in front of him. “We should watch a movie while the cookies bake! So that means we needed snacks. Plus Satoru called and asked for a few things.”

Ieiri makes no attempt at an excuse and smirks when she sees the way Kento is no longer in his khakis and sweater and instead is wearing a pair of flannel sleep pants and long sleeve frat t-shirt. 

She shrugs her shoulders at the man and fishes in her pocket for a lighter. “We just needed something to do in order to stall for a bit longer.”

Your cheeks flush and you finally walk out into the kitchen and avoid the shit-eating grin on your roommate’s face. Haibara doesn’t even notice your change of clothing while Kento looks at you with a warm smile on his lips. 

Ieiri lets out a low whistle, “Nice clothes.”

Haibara stops from putting soft drinks in the fridge and now finally notices your attire and raises an eyebrow at it. Both he and Ieiri exchange glances before Kento raises his hand to pause their imminent bombarde of questions. “There’s nothing wrong with my girlfriend wearing my clothes.”

“Girlfriend?!”

“Girlfriend?!”

GIRLFRIEND?

Ieiri and Haibara mirror your internal confusion while Kento idly walks to the oven to resume the heat needed to finish baking the cookies. He holds himself as if he had just reported the weather and moves to slide a hand around your waist and tug you into him.

“Geez! What did we miss?”

“I don’t think we wanna know.”

Haibara winces at Ieiri’s crude words and shakes his head to avoid imagining his roommate and friend banging in the apartment. Kento rolls his eyes while Ieiri moves to finalize the last of the sugar cookie recipe and prepare a pan.

You seamlessly move to help her cut a few shapes and don’t miss the way Haibara breaks from his mortifying realization to shoot a thumbs up to his roommate. The moment is warm and familial, the group now working as a team of 4 instead of two groups of 2. 

By the time you take out the brunkager and put the sugar cookies in the oven, Haibara pads over to the living to flip through a variety of movies. Ieiri follows him to open the window and lean out the edge to light another cigarette and blow the smoke outside. 

You sigh comfortably and reach to grab a cookie and blow gently on it, slightly wincing when the delicious flavor burns your tastebuds from the temperature. 

“Careful…we’re not trying to make your tongue swollen.”

“Oh, is there something else you want my tongue to do?”

Kento stutters slightly and nudges you in the ribs indicating the risky behavior considering the proximity of your friends while rolling his eyes.

“There are a million things I could think of, and if we had more time, I would’ve loved for a few of them to happen.”

You smile and move to rinse your hands off in the sink, enjoying the background ambience of Ieiri and Haibara arguing over whether to watch ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’ or ‘Home Alone’. 

Kento remains leaning against the counter while watching you. “I mean it. Both things actually.”

You wipe your hands on the kitchen towel and raise an eyebrow while waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t enjoy quickies or casual flings… I want more time with you,” he puts his arm out to grab you into him, “with you as my girlfriend.”

There’s no response needed when you lift your chin to press a kiss to his lips and giggle when Haibara and Ieiri groan from the couch.

“Ugh! Didn’t you guys already fuck it out of your systems? I’m not ready to be an aunt yet.”

“Not on the kitchen island! What about our deposit if you break it?”

Kento scoffs and moves to walk you to the couch to join your complaining comrades; he sits on the right side against the armrest and pulls you in between his legs to partially lay against his chest.

The moment is cozy and relaxing as the sun begins to dip and brings a warm glow in the apartment while a blistering wind picks up outside. Ieiri reaches for a few chips while Haibara gets comfy on the side love seat and hits ‘play’ on the remote.

“Wait..” he looks up between you and Ieiri. “I already knew Kento grew up making cookies and that’s why he enjoys doing it so much now… but what about you guys?”

Your own roommate shrugs, “I guess I like the parties? Secret Santas are kinda fun once the alcohol is flowing.”

Haibara hums at the answer and turns his attention to you; Kento places a chaste kiss on the back of your neck and traces circles on your hip bones where the waistband of the sweatpants sit.  You turn to Kento and smirk, “Well considering Kento likes eating making cookies…. I’d say I like sleigh rides.”

TY for ur patience for this series! I've been busy but still wanna finish this into the mid-january timeline (also why was writing kento lowkey harder than I thot it was gonna be)

[ Next up -> Oncology student! Frat President! Fwb Satoru x Reader

Holiday season is always referred to as 'cuffing season' though he never really saw the point. Why want a real relationship when your casual affair offers everything he wants... or so he thought. Matching sweaters, gift wrapping, and sipping hot cocoa definitely isn't casual.. but it's all he wants for Christmas this year. ]

my other series are still ongoing i promise!

likes/reblogs/comments all appreicated ☆:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:☆

-oatmeal

[livwritesfics]

Just What I Needed

A/n: Had this idea while I was walking to school today. I was listening to "Just What I Needed" by The Cars and it reminded me of Law kinda. Anyways hope you like it(uωu 人)

Update: hellooooo, this is future me here on Christmas eve looking through my tumblr drafts, editing/finishing them and uploading them because character ai timed me out for 24 hours *eyerolls* oh WELL here you go and MERRY CHRISTMAS! JESUS IS THE REASON FOR THE SEASON! /pos /gen /lh /srs

Law hadn't planned most of his life. He didn't plan the fall of his home country, Flevance, he didn't plan his parents and sister dying, he definitely didn't plan on living past thirteen! Even Cora-san dying wasn't part of his plan.

Y/n wasn't an exception. When Law met Y/n he couldn't stop denying his feelings towards her. He didn't like her, he definitely did not blush when she laughed or giggled, and he certainly didn't go out of his way to do nice things for her. No way hosay did he do that.

I don't mind you comin' here, and wastin' all my time.

It was just so... addicting though.

To be in love. And he knew he was smitten with her when she cleaned his wounds and made him coffee... made sure he went to sleep.

'Cause when you're standin' oh so near, I kinda lose my mind.

Law didn't plan for her to love him back. Especially not the same way. However, she did. Y/n loved him so much. Law felt like the luckiest man alive.

Now of course he wouldn't show it! God no! Law would always act like he was bothered. Whenever she would knock on his captain's quarters door and interrupt his studying just to hang out. He never minded that she was spending time with him instead of letting him study.

It's not the perfume that you wear, it's not the ribbons in your hair.

It was frustrating when he found himself unable to say no when she asked him to hang out or to do her hair or if he wanted to bake cookies with her.

How could he say no? He hated himself for it.

However, he kind of got used to it. How? He didn't know. Law didn't even try to understand. For once in his life after Cora-san... he went with the flow... he let himself love and be loved.

I guess you're just what I needed.

A/n: I didn't know how to end this. It's just a little drabble I guess we can say. Merry Christmas again!

[bi-bard]

On My Line, You’re Hooked, I’m Fishin’ - Scott Imagine [Twisters]

Title: On My Line, You’re Hooked, I’m Fishin’

Pairing: Scott [Twisters] X Reader

Word Count: 3,126 words

Warning(s): argument, grabbing someone's wrist

Summary: [Somewhat inspired by "Too Easy" by Tanner Adell] When a new company rolls into town during tornado season, Tyler's team is curious. Perfect uniforms, all looking ready for picture wasn't exactly the normal look for tornado chasing. (Y/n) volunteers to be the one to gather some much-needed intel, doing whatever they need to in order to get it.

Author's Note: I have about five Twisters imagines in my drafts right now.

Listen. I'm have something cute about this guy in my drafts, but he pissed me off in this movie, so I have to get that shit out first. It's part of my process.

----------------------

There was always a lot of energy during tornado season, but nothing beat the feelings on those first few days.

There was all this hope. This adrenaline going for something that hadn't even happened yet. A little while in, you would get an idea about how the season was going to go. The not-knowing before that was the best part. Endless possibilities and all that.

All that to explain that it felt normal for our team to be jumping off the walls like kids in a candy shop when we first all made it to Oklahoma.

Boone and Tyler were sorting out the truck. Dexter and Dani were making sure the trailer was stocked with merch and food for those who needed it. I hadn't been given a task, so I was left to pretty much my own devices. As a result, Lily was left working on her drone while I talked her ear off. She didn't seem to mind it.

I looked up over her head to see a group of white trucks and vans pulling up. Nice ones. Clean, new. I saw the logo slapped on the side.

"What in the hell is Storm Par," I asked.

"What?" Lily looked at me before immediately turning to the other vehicles. "No idea."

"Hey, Tyler!" I walked over to the truck.

"What's going on? Sugar high crashing?"

"Very funny," I replied before pointing to the white vehicles. "Who's Storm Par?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. "No idea. Look like a big corporation."

A group of men started climbing out of the vehicles.

"Woah," he muttered.

"Proper science fair dudes," I commented. "Bet you twenty bucks that they have pocket protectors."

Tyler reached out and whacked my shoulder. "Be nice."

"Fine," I grumbled as he turned back to the truck.

I caught one of the men staring at me. He was tall and seemed to have a completely emotionless face. His clothes were neat, perfectly pressed. When he saw that I had noticed him, he had turned away from me, going to follow his team into the gas station.

"Want me to get intel?"

Tyler chuckled. "Intel? What year do you think it is? We can look them up tonight."

"Yeah, but I just caught one of their boys staring at me," I explained. "Let me do it; it'll kill two birds with one stone."

I heard Boone laugh from the other side of the truck. "I love the way you think!"

"Thanks, Boone."

"Alright, fine," Tyler relented. "But hurry up, we gotta get going."

"Thank you," I said. "Anyone want a drink?"

"Get me a Mountain Dew!" Boone called. I pointed at him and nodded.

"Be back in a minute!"

I walked back to the fridges along the back wall. I saw the man who had stared at me was now standing by the fridges.

I stood next to him. "Hey there."

He didn't respond, just staring straight ahead at the fridge. I had to hold in my laugh as I stepped forward to grab two Mountain Dews.

"Did Storm Par put a ban on talking to other tornado chasers," I asked. He didn't reply again. "Or are you just scared? Promise I don't bite."

"I'm not scared," he replied.

"Oh my goodness, he speaks." I placed a hand over my chest to pretend to be shocked. I chuckled at his clearly unimpressed expression before holding my hand out. "(Y/n)."

"Scott." he shook my hand before very quickly pulling it back.

"Nice to meet you, Scott," I said. "So, what exactly is Storm Par?"

"We track tornados so the data can be used for research."

"Real specific there," I chuckled at him. "What kind of research?"

He didn't respond.

"Oh, come on, I'm not gonna steal your ideas."

"I'm not worried about it."

"Are you worried that I won't understand it? I'm smarter than I look."

He let out an amused huff before grabbing a water and starting to walk to the checkout. I followed him.

"Maybe you could explain it to me later then," I suggested, hopping in front of him just before he got in line. I smiled at his blank look. "Tonight. There's a bar not too far from here, right next to a hotel that our crew's staying at; I'll buy you a drink."

I watched as his eyes scanned me for a moment. It looked like he was trying to figure out whether or not I was tricking him. I was almost hurt. I mean, I was tricking him, but not in the way that he was assuming.

I turned around to pay for my drinks, so I could step out of the way.

"Come on," I pushed before rattling off the name of the bar. "Meet me there tonight. One drink. If I'm that bad of company, then you can leave and I won't complain once. I'll even try to stay out of your hair during the chases."

Scott took a deep breath. "Fine."

"Yes," I cheered out of mostly fake excitement. "You won't regret this."

"I hope not."

I reached out and fiddled with a button on his white shirt. Far too perfect to be out there chasing storms. "Can't wait to see how well your perfect uniforms last out there."

I stepped back, not missing how his eyes followed my hand.

"See you later, Fancy Pants!" I waved as I started running back out to Tyler's truck.

"How'd it go," Tyler asked as I hopped into the passenger seat.

"Didn't get much," I admitted, handing Boone his drink before buckling up. "But I did get him to say yes to meeting me for a drink later."

"Atta kid!" Boone clapped his hand over my shoulder.

"I know, I know, a miracle worker," I replied. "Ready to get out there?"

"Absolutely," Tyler said.

The rest of the day went so much faster than it had any right to.

We saw Storm Par a lot. It took everything in me to not be a bit of a dick when we passed them. I did wave once when I spotted Scott in the passenger seat of one of the trucks. He nodded at me in an awkward greeting, which led to him getting a bit of a weird look from the man who was driving.

"What are you doing?" Tyler laughed as I relaxed back into my seat.

"Playing with the food," Boone answered before I could, causing me to laugh loudly.

"I was gonna say 'being friendly', but that's better," I said.

Maybe that was the excitement of it all messing with my head, but it felt like it took a matter of minutes before we found ourselves driving to the bar that I had told Scott to meet me at.

I walked in ahead of the group, trying to keep from laughing at the comments that Boone was shouting over my shoulder.

I saw some of the other guys from Storm Par at a table together. At the actual bar was Scott. He looked a bit tense, almost disheartened. I started to wonder just how long he had been there. Had I kept him waiting? Did he think that I stood him up? Was that the face of stubbornness just before calling the night a bust and going back to wherever he was staying?

I guess it didn't matter now. I couldn't back out.

"Fancy pants!" I called before walking over quickly. He seemed startled as I plopped onto the barstool next to him. "How was your day?"

"You should know, you were there for most of it," he replied.

"Was that a joke or are you just annoyed with me," I asked.

"Guess you'll have to figure it out." he shrugged. I saw a small grin form as he took a sip of his drink.

I let out a scoff. "Wow, Fancy Pants is bold now. A couple of sips is all it took?"

Scott rolled his eyes. The bartender walked over to us. I just asked for the same of whatever Scott had been drinking before focusing back on the conversation.

"The uniform held up well, I see." I pulled lightly at one of the white sleeves of his shirt. "Research must not be as hands-on as I thought it was."

"We do the same thing your crew does," he argued.

"With a bigger paycheck, I'm sure," I replied.

"Our work is a bit more important."

"And what work is that?"

"Why don't you tell me about yours first?" he smirked at me before taking another sip of his drink.

He thought it was clever. I could tell. Avoid my question by focusing the attention back on me. In any other situation, it would have screwed me out of the information that I needed.

But in this one... it was a mistake.

Here's the thing: I could talk. I could go on and on for hours about absolute nonsense. I could go from story to story without taking a breath.

And I did.

I told him about all the work that we had done to help people. About digging through the destroyed debris to try and find some pieces of people's lives. About making bundles of food. Then, I just started telling stories about every funny or weird moment that had happened since I had joined Tyler's crew.

The time that I burned served me well. Scott relaxed. Whether that was a result of his drink or simply because I was earning his trust was a mystery to me. I didn't bother focusing on which it was.

"Alright, alright," I said. "That's enough about what I do. Tell me about Storm Par."

"I told you; we collect data for future tornado research," Scott replied.

"Oh, come on." I rolled my eyes. "I mean, not to be rude, but I've seen your team. You're all a bit young to be jumping into research all on your own. And Storm Par doesn't sound like a company attached to a college."

"No, no, we're a private company," he explained. "We've had some luck finding a few really interested investors."

"Like...?"

"The biggest one is Marshall Riggs. He's a big-name real estate guy."

I couldn't quite put the pieces together at the time, but I felt a pit in my stomach. Unease that formed all too fast. "What would a real estate guy want with tornado research?"

"He's helping people," Scott's response felt like an attempt to twist an image that hadn't even been made yet. "He uses it to find people that have lost their homes and businesses and such and he buys them. It allows those people to move forward with their lives without having to wait for insurance to make a call on it."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Doesn't a disaster usually force the prices down for land?"

"I mean, it's lower than the normal price. It's not like he's buying this land up for five dollars and a pack of gum."

"What other aid does Storm Par offer them then, if they're getting rid of their homes and land?"

"Our investors focus funds on the research."

"So no?"

"So we're focused on the bigger picture. More long-term consequences."

I took the subtlest deep breath that I could. "I see."

I looked down at my watch.

"Oh, look at that, it's a lot later than I thought," I said, completely lying through my teeth. "We have to head out early in the morning."

I handed my card to the bartender, muttering for him to just cover both of our drinks.

"I can walk you out," Scott replied.

"Yeah, sure, okay," I mumbled, scribbling down a tip and putting my card away.

I followed Scott outside, letting him hold the door open. I wanted to seem less tense than I was. I was doubting how well it was working, but all I needed was for it to be good enough to get out of there without being questioned, so who really cares?

We made it outside. I was about to insist that we go our separate ways for the night, but he cut me off.

"You were right," Scott said. "Didn't regret that."

"Oh, good," I replied. I may have regretted it.

There was a long pause. Scott went to step closer to me. I almost scrambled back before he could, forcing out a chuckle.

"Well, I should go." I shrugged, continuing to walk backward before eventually turning around and just calling to him over my shoulder. "Have a good night. Stay safe. See you around, fancy pants!"

A few minutes later, I was knocking on Tyler's door like I was a landlord looking for late rent.

"(Y/n), what the hell are you doing," he asked as he yanked the door open. "You're gonna piss off somebody."

"I'm already a bit pissed, so maybe it'll do some good to share the suffering," I replied before shoving my way past him. "I have answers."

"About Storm Par?"

"No about what Scott likes to do on a nice summer day- Yes about Storm Par!"

"You are grumpy when it's late." he sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Shut up," I slapped his shoulder. "I found out about Storm Par's funding."

"Okay..."

"So, yes, they do research and track the storms and report that data back to their investors," I explained. "The problem is that their major investor is named Marshall Riggs, who has apparently made quite a name for himself in real estate."

"What would he want with it?"

"Well, he's going to the places impacted by the storms and buying up land from people who lose their homes and businesses and stuff. He's apparently spinning some story that he's allowing people to move forward with their lives, but come on, he's just using this information to get his hands on cheap land."

"Do you know what he's doing with the land?"

"I didn't ask."

"Okay..."

"Storm Par is giving this man power to do some real harm here."

"I know, I know."

"So, what are we gonna do," I asked, looking at Tyler again.

"I... I don't know," he replied, running his hand over his face.

"We can't just let him keep doing this!"

"(Y/n)," he sighed. "I don't even know if this guy is doing something that's technically illegal-"

"It's still wrong!" I snapped at him.

"I know!"

I froze.

"But whatever we do won't stop him. He'll keep preying on desperate people and whatever we say won't change what impact he might have on them. They're desperate, they think they're alone."

"So we just do nothing?"

"No." Tyler shook his head. "What we can do is continue helping people."

I nodded. "I just... I feel like there's just so much more that we could do."

"In a perfect world, we would be able to speak out and it would stop him." he shrugged. "It would make him give up and walk off with his tail between his legs. But we can't. We just have to do what we can."

I took a deep breath. Tyler pulled me into a hug.

"We're doing good work. And we'll only earn more outreach. We'll continue to do better."

I stepped back. "I'm still going to be an asshole tomorrow."

"Just don't end up dead or in jail."

"I'll do my best," I shrugged before going to walk out. "Good night!"

"Night!" he called out after me.

I was hoping that the next morning would have been mostly calm. That we would get out into the field before Storm Par or vice versa. Something to keep me from having to face Scott for just a few more hours.

I was walking back to the truck after picking up some breakfast. I was occupied with my own thoughts. I was still upset. I was still fighting the urge to go scream from the rooftops about Marshall Riggs and the bullshit he was doing.

"(Y/n)!"

I considered sprinting to the truck when I heard Scott say my name. I just wasn't feeling mean enough to do that... yet.

"Scott," I said as I turned around. "How are ya?"

"Good, good, what about you?"

"I'm fine, just busy," I replied, going to step away. "Heading out early and all."

Scott stepped forward. "I was hoping to ask if you wanted to meet again tonight. Maybe dinner instead of a drink."

"I... I don't think that'd be a good idea."

His face fell. "Oh... why?"

"I just don't think we clicked like I thought we would." the goal was to maintain the peace until the end of the season. "But hey, we tried it, that's what matters. I'll... I'll see you out there."

"Did I... Did I do something wrong?"

"Nope, you were just fine. Just didn't work."

I turned to walk away but was stopped when Scott grabbed my wrist. "I don't believe that."

I yanked my arm from him. "Don't ever fucking grab me again."

"I just want the truth."

"I told you the truth." I turned away again.

I was grabbed again. "Just wait-"

I pulled my arm away and shoved him backward. "I fucking warned you to not grab me like that again."

He seemed to still be reeling from the fact that I shoved him.

"You want the truth? Fine," I shrugged. "I find your company and what it stands for to be completely despicable. I think it's disgusting that y'all would accept money to help a man take advantage of innocent people. I think it's disgusting that you don't seem to give a damn about it. If I could tear your company down, I would, but in reality, my words would never stop you or your damn investors. And I hope that one day you wake up, look in the mirror, and feel the crushing pain of all those that you helped that man manipulate."

Scott stepped forward, a response clearly ready, but he looked over my shoulder and froze.

"(Y/n), you good?" I heard Tyler's voice call over to me.

"Yeah," I yelled over my shoulder. "Just having a quick chat!"

I stepped away again, walking as quickly as I could to make it over to him and the rest of the crew.

"Didn't end up in jail," I offered, trying to look at the bright side.

"I almost did," he muttered. "Get in the truck."

I did a little salute to him before going around to the passenger seat. I saw Tyler stare down Scott for a few more seconds before hopping in the driver's seat.

Maybe there was some argument to be made about the benefits of killing someone with kindness. But that just wasn't how I operated. And I think I'm better off that way.

----------------------

TAG LISTS:

Everything - @geeksareunique

----------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Original Characters Masterlist

[sehodreams]

fucking Anton with a breeding kink is so hot like when he has hot passionate romantic sex it definitely feels like baby making

Sorry, I don't think this is what you wanted to read but it's what came to my mind. It's been in my draft for so long, I tried to think of a different idea but it stayed like this 😭

TW and tags: p in v, no condom, literally babymaking.

He's especially needy on these occasions. You don't really understand what goes through his mind when he's pushing you to the bed all serious, or when he's brushing his fingers on your waist while you're getting ready for bed, but there's simply an alarm that starts sounding inside you, a "shit" repeating in your head because you know what's about to come.

He's not harder, or rougher. He's really slow since he wants to feel you more, caressing corners of your skin not even you pay attention, like that little emptiness in your collarbone, or the inside of your arm when he pushes your hands up to take control of your moves.

Still, finally, this day, he's brave enough to tell you those thoughts that fill his head and you always wondered about. Spitting things you know cross him in the middle of the night, you gasp for air when you hear his voice. "You'd look so pretty pregnant,'' he whispers. ''I can't stop thinking about us living in a bigger house, big enough for you to have anything you could ever want... don't you want to come and search for one with me?"

"What are you saying?" You answer. You want to think that maybe he's joking, but it's all so intense, his finger flicking your clit and his eyes on yours at every second, gleaming even in the dark.

"We could be a family, maybe a little girl to keep company to my favourite girl in the whole world?" He's going too far now, and you're trying to resist it. It's too drawing, the tone of his voice, the aroma of his bed that is almost yours now after all those nights sleeping together, and the image he's planting on your head. You're so comfy in that picture, being kissed by him while he rests his hand on your stomach, and everything is dizzy when he's sliding into you.

"You-you really want that?" You ask unsure, feeling too good and in a haze of pleasure. More than just loved, you feel almost adored.

"It's everything I can think about,'' he groans. ''I want to make my girl a mom, the most beautiful one."

Fuck, not again you say inside your head. He knows he shouldn't ask you for things while fucking. You're too weak to resist him when it's all so good, he pressing you to the mattress and his hips slowly finding that spot that doesn't let you think things twice when he bottoms out and steals every air you could have with his weight over you.

He's not saying anything else about it. He's just pounding and holding your hands over your head while the other in your waist keeps you in place to receive him. He couldn't let you move apart when your pussy is squelching, begging for him to spill everything inside.

You don't talk, but you want him to cum inside, you're too deep into the fantasy to say no to him, and soon you're clenching, not wanting to let him pull away from you and your new dream.

Fuck, you curse again. You're not even sure you want to be a mom. Obviously, you haven't thought about it as much as him.

Yet, you can see everything so clearly now. A house with a pretty garden, white ceilings and breakfast out in the fresh air on Sunday mornings.

You can't push him away when you know he's about to cum. His breath is getting harder with every thrust and the sweat is accumulating in his forehead. Usually, you'd have cleaned it with your hand, but he doesn't let you move, both wrists pinned in your pillow.

''I'm not wearing a condom,'' he warns you.

You don't know why he's telling you that by that point. You physically can't push him away, and you both know you can't say no to him, not while fucking, not at any moment, and this one is not the exception.

[littlxpxtal]

The Beach

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader

WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence

WORD COUNT: 3k

If I told you that I loved you

Tell me, what would you say?

If I told you that I hated you

Would you go away?

Now I need your help with everything that I do

I don't want to lie, I've been relying on you

Fallin' again

I need a pick-me-up

I've been callin' you "friend,"

I might need to give it up

April

Fuck you

I hover my thumb over the send button for a long breath. When I exhale, I press send, click my phone off and toss it onto my bed. It lands face down.

I walk over to my bathroom, shutting the door behind me and striping down.

The pogues went back to the cut, sending JJ off into the swamp lands with a backpack full of food and camping gear. We are hoping in the next few days we can figure something out to make sure he can come back home safely.

While I shower, I think of all the new information I learned about the mission, and how getting the rest of the gold out was the next goal, but they would have to do it very strategically.

My mind wanders to rafe for a second, and I wonder if he’s back from his trip. Then I remember I hate him, and don’t want to hear back from him. I think about how after my shower, i'm going to block him. I should’ve done that after sending the message anyways.

I’m not entirely sure why it took me so long to send it. I drafted that text the same night JJ and I talked about rafe. I think it just took me a bit of time to finally be able to let go, and let him know I refuse to be treated like this.

There was a small part of me that hoped he already blocked me, so he wouldn’t even see the message from me.

Tomorrow is the last day of spring break, and my family will be back on the outbreaks by nightfall. I think about how I’ll try my best to be asleep by the time they get back tomorrow so I can avoid any questions.

The pogues helped me clean everything, washed bed sheets and dishes, took out the trash and wiped everything down. There was no trace of life in the house, not even from me.

I make mental to do lists of what I still need to do before graduation, what i should wear to school this week, and what color to polish my nails. My mind wanders and runs a million miles a minute as I step out of the shower, ringing my hair into the towel, and plopping it on top of my head. I lotion my body and face up, then wrap myself in a robe.

When I walk out of my bathroom, a shriek spaces my lips.

Rafe is sitting on the edge of my bed, and he’s playing with one of the trinkets from my book shelf.

“What’re you-“ I hold on tightly to the doorknob, ready to run back into the bathroom if needed. I couldn’t read his expression at all.

“You shouldn’t leave the door that leads from the outside, directly into your bedroom, unlocked. Especially when you’re home alone.” He says coyly.

“I think we are privileged enough to know that we don’t really have to worry about those kinds of things here on figure 8, now do we?” I tilt my head, and take in his presence. He’s wearing a hoodie with the hood up. His eyes are on my body, wrapped up in a silk sobe.

“Why are you texting me all crazy like that for, hm?” His eyes finally flicker up to meet mine. They are cold and hard. I glance over to scan my room, find anything to pique my interest enough to not give into the urge to look back at him. My heartbeat raced and I felt my mouth get drier by the second.

“I had been wanting to say it for days, but I figured it would be best if I waited until you were done with your trip so I didnt bother you.’ he scoffs and stands up, taking a step towards me. I responded with a small step backwards, my breath hitching in my throat.

“You think some text behind a screen would’ve ruined my trip? You think saying “fuck you” to me, is something I would get worked up about?”

my lips trembles, my body is reacting in a way as if im getting scolded, or reprimanded for speaking back to an adult.

I don’t speak, my body freezes and he takes another step towards me, his head dipping down.

“You think I care about the fact that you helped hide maybank here at your house?” I hyelped, and my hands trembled. I looked down at the ground, and he’s finally close enough where I can smell his cologne.

He hooks his finger under my chin, and I flinch. My back is pressed against the doorframe, and he leans forward, pushing my chin up, and y eyes meet his,

“Cat got your tongue?” He coos, his eyes look manic, and there’s a slight tremor in his hand.

“I think you do care. And it would’ve ruined your trip.” I finally croak out, letting out the breath I had been holding.

“And I mean it. Fuck you rafe. Fuck you and the mind games you play with me. Your not even my boyfriend and you like to control everything, and if i'm not doing something you Like, you use move onto another one of your girls. Like im disposable, like i dont matter. And I know i Fucking matter to you.”

I dont really mean to say the last part, but it came out anyways. I was just being honest.

He doesn’t respond for a while so we stand in silence, and he stares down at me, his finger still holding under my chin.

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips. I dont object, but I dont open my mouth for more.

“You dont mean it” his whispers, his lips brushing against mine.

“Yes i do” I mumble, my brain getting light from the feeling he brought in my mind.

his other hands reach up and trailing down the valley of my chest against the robe. His fingers make it down to where the rob is tied, and he glances up with a smirk.

“Tell me, y/n, did you finally sleep with him? Did you get back at me?” He hot breath fans against my chest, and he lowers on his knees, slowly pulling open the tied pieces of my robe.

”What Don't you get about the fact that JJ and I don't do that. Never have and never will.” I try my best to pretend I am unaffected by the way his fingers trail up my inner thigh, right to the line of my robe, barely hanging open. His lips press right below my naval, and a whimper escapes my lips.

“It would’ve ruined my trip” he whispers, using his hands to open my legs, I press harder against the wall, the towel on my head finally dropping to the ground, I pull my wet hair to one side, looking down at rafe. His pupils are blown, his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting for my response.

“I know it would’ve” I say with a smirk.

”you give me a constant headache” he grumbles, pressing another kiss to the inside of my thigh.

”You Make this whole thing so hard. Would be easier if you just stopped overreacting” I retaliate, bending my knees slightly, opening up my thighs more. He grips my hips and Iicks a strip up my slit.

“Wheres the fun in that?” He says with a chuckle before diving in, suckling on my clit, his fingers burned deep into my hips. I moaned out in pleasure, my hands entangling themselves in his hair.

He hums with pleasure against my heat, and I find myself panting, my head hung low, bottom lip between my teeth.

“So did you fuck her again?” I ask, hissing as he sucks hard on my clit in response.

“Nah” he responds quickly, before his mouth attaches back to my folds, his tongue lapping up and down rhythmically.

I whimper a few times, and he looks up to my eye contact with me.

“You’re easy to piss off” he says against my pussy.

”sounds like you do it on purpose” I groan and bcuck my hips against his face. He releases his mouth, its covered in my slick, and his eyes are still blown out. His right hand trails down, and he runs two fingers between my folds, pushing into my hole, just teasing it slightly. I breath out heavily and he smirks.

“You’re fun to play with” he drawls out, his eyes focuses on the way his fingers are sliding into and out, deeper with each pump. My legs start to shake as he curls his fingers inside. Once they are fully inside , he quickens his pace, the silence in the room filled with the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of me.

“‘M not a fucking toy” I grit out, pulling his hard harder, squeezing my eyes shut as I feel myself reaching my peak. He doesn’t respond, and instead brings his mouth back up to my clit, flicking it with his tongue, swirling around in circles, clockwise then counterclockwise.

“Fuckkkkk” I groan out, seeing white behind my closed lids. I cum all over rafes face. I dont get to ride it very long, before he’s dragging me over to the bed, and pushing my face down, ass up. He pulls the robe full off my body, and presses my face down into the pillows, I feel himself line his cock up with my entrance, and he pushes in.

”Rafe” I groan, holding out the sheets with all my might. I finish riding out my high as he pounds into me from behind, his hands gripped on both sides of my hips.

Profanities slip from his mouth, accompanied with a few whimpers of my name.

I gain enough strength to push my self up, so im in tabletop position, while he still pumps in and out of me. I turn my head and look back to see the hoods of his eyes are hanging low, his jaw is slack, his tongue peaking out the side, and drips of sweat are beading on his forehead. A whimper erupts from his mouth, and he grunts after, his eyes snapping open to meet mine, as if he sensed me looking at him.

“This what you wanted? Huh?” I bat my lashes innocently and bit my bottom lip.

”Wanted to piss me off so much I just had to come over and fuck you just to get you to shut the fuck up? Huh pretty girl?” My eyes roll back and my head hangs down. He’s tsks his tongue, leaning forward, one hand gripped tightly on my hips, the other gathers my hair in his fist, and he yanks me back, my shoulders pressing up against his chest. He cocks his fist down to the right, angling my head up and back to look up at him. His pace hasn’t faltered once, and the continuing sound of my pussy squelching against his throbbing cock is only getting louder, I can no longer contain my moans, and I squeeze my eyes shut as they spill out of my mouth. He takes this opportunity of my open my mouth to spit in it. My eyes shoot open, and we hold eye contact for a second before I swallow and he smiles.

“All you have to do is ask nicely you know?” His grip on my hair still tight, and his dick is ramming into my harder than before.

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” I whisper, looking deep into his eyes. His smile never faulters, and he leans down and kisses me.

“Don’t ever say that shit to me again” he says, breathing into my mouth, his eyes shut, still pounding relentless into me.

“What? Oh, Fuck you” I whimper out. Everything happens so quickly.

His eyes snap open and they darken, he lets go of my hair, pushing me down by my shoulder too the bed.

”Don’t.” He gives my ass a hard slap, making me yelp out.

”Ever” he pulls his dick out, and grabs my hips, flipping me onto my back.

”fucking” he pushing my legs open, and wraps them around his hips.

”say that” his right hand reaches up and wraps around my throat, putting just enough pressure.

”again” he growls the last word before ramming himself into me.

I lift my head up and attach my mouth on his shoulder, sucking harshly to cover the moans I wanted to scream out. His head rests against mine, and he grunts.

“You gonna be a good girl for me now?” He breathes out heavily, and looks down at me. We make eye contact and I pout, refusing to give in. His hand is still on my throat, and he gives it a squeeze. I groan in response, shutting my eyes.

“Look at me” he commands. My eyes flutter open and he has a smirk on his face.

“I’ll only be a good girl if you promise to stop fucking other girls”

His hips stutter a second before he completely stops. The grip on my throat is released,and he pushes himself up on both hands, hovering over me, my legs still tightly wrapped around his hips.

“Is that what you really want?” He asks sincerely.

I wiggle my hips to try and get him to keep going, but he doesn’t budge.

“I dunno. Can we just keep fucking?” I please, grabbing onto his bicep and reaching up to kiss his neck.

“Sure” he whispers before thrusting again.

We dont say anything the rest of the time, until Rafe is about to cum.

”’m close”

”Not inside me” I protest.

”Fucking duh” he grumbles into my neck before pulling out and finishing on my stomach. He immediately stands up, grabs a tissue and starts cleaning me off.

Once he’s done, he passes me my robe, and he puts his clothes back on.

“Well, are we like good now?” He asks, checking his pockets for his wallet and keys.

”Yea, we always were”

”Right” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Im just gonna” he points towards the door he snuck through. I nod my head in understanding, and watch him leave. I turned off my bedside lamp, and laid in silence.

My moment of self loathing was interrupting by my phone ringing.

Sabrina

I answer immediately

“Sab?” I say into the phone, sitting up.

”Y/N, you need to get down to the beach right now. Like NOW”

I furrow my brow, take my phone from my ear to check the time. I was 9:27pm

”I dont know Sab I was about to go to bed honestly.”

”Bitch, it’s the last night of spring break. And mostly everyone is back, and we’re partying on the beach. Get here NOW” she yells the last part into the phone before hanging up. I hurriedly pack a bag with miscellaneous illegal items, slip on a hoodie and shorts then run out the door. I check Sabrina’s location to see where on the beach she was, and it was decently close for me to make it on foot.

When I arrive, I see a mix of faces, those I get along with, and those who I simply pretend dont exist on a regular basis. Before Sabrina sees me, I catch a glimpse of rafe. He’s taking a drag of a cig while Kelce talks to him and Topper. Topper looks semi interested, while rafe looks like he couldn’t care less. His face looks angry and hard. And hot. Like. Really fucking hot.

Before I could analyze his face more, Sabrina yells out my name, and his head whips in my direction. I look away before our eyes meet, and smile when they land on Sabrina.

“Hi baby, I missed you” she cried out, standing up to greet me with a hug. She’s sitting on a towel that topper brought. I smile down at them and look around to see where I can set up. Conveniently, there’s a spot next to rafe in between him and some random kook.

“Why dont you go sit by rafe and cheer him up a bit. He’s in one of his moods.” Topper jokes, nudging his head over. I give a fake smile and trudge over, laying my towel down without acknowledging him.

When I sit down, he gives me a Look.

“What? We’re you saving this for someone?” I say with a smirk. He gives me a fake smile, and laugh then rolls his eyes.

I pul out the bottle of wine I stole from my parents bar and take a big gulp. I hand it out to him, and he takes it, drinking a small mouthful before passing it back.

We get along cordially, mainly because we dot actually talk to each other. We just silently pass the bottle back and forth between each other, while people chatter among us.

When the night gets late, and everyone starts slowly leaving the beach, it ends up just me and rafe, my head laying on his lap, staring at the stars as he stroked my hair and looked out into the ocean.

”This is nice” he mumbles. I nod my head in agreement and he looks down.

His face is sad, and his eyes are brimmed with tears.

“Y/N, I dont think I can be the person you need.” He whispers, and a tear slips down from his face and lands on my cheek. He wipes it away then looks back out into the ocean.

“Could you try?” I as. My face is hot and flushed from the alcohol, and I was probably going to say something I would later regret. But i don't care. I wanted him to want to try for me.

“You might have to teach me”

“Okay” I whisper. “Rafe?”

”Yes, Y/N?”

”Can you take me home? And will you stay with me?” He smiles.

“Of course”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: @ltristessedureratoujours @davinashifts333 @tomholland792

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

heyyy, can i ask for 80's Dave fingering reader under the table in a dinner please? Thanks!! <3

A/n: posting my drafts rn and then I will be trying to write more

Warnings: Smut, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), I don't know how to tag this so if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

This was his first time meeting your parents, it was supposed to be perfect and it was stressing you out. Dave, of course, had the 'perfect' idea on how to help you relieve said stress.

You refused, you had a plan and you would stick to it, even if you were desperate for something to calm your mind and your plan meant refusing him.

Everything was going perfect. Close to dinner starting, before your parents arrived, Dave had backed off from his approach, letting you do what you felt you had to do and complying easily with your instructions.

When your parents got there he was pleasant with them, he knew they wouldn't like him because they didn't like, well, him. They didn't like his music, his persona, how he spoke. Really, they hated him, but they liked how he made you feel, even if they felt it was only temporary.

You'd made the perfect meal, with Dave's help of course -he went out and got groceries while you were cleaning and then cleaned up the mess you'd made while cooking, still thoughtful and helpful enough- and now you were seated with your parents in the dining room.

Despite what it seemed to you, Dave never let it go. You were stressed and it was always his job to help you when you were stressed or angry or feeling any sort of negative emotion, he was your boyfriend and that was one of his jobs as your boyfriend.

So, no, he never let it go. He set a table cloth on the table, an overly grand one that was definitely not needed for this dinner, however, his plans varied from yours.

It his everyone's lap so no one could see anything, especially not his hand. He knew your parents had noticed his hand on you, on your thigh, they didn't need to know he had two fingers buried knuckle deep inside you.

At first you'd tried to get him to stop, holding his hand in yours, guiding it back to your thigh or his own lap. However, as the conversation dragged on and your parents became more pushy about Dave and his career, asking questions they didn't need to be asking, degrading him subtly in so many words. Eventually, you just had to let it happen.

Dave was getting annoyed, so were you, and you'd been stressing the past week over this exact conversation.

You wore a dress, it wasn't hard for Dave to move your panties to the side. He moved slow, resting his arm on your thigh and using his wrist to keep his ministrations subtle and hidden from your parents, all while keeping up a polite smile with your dad across from him.

He'd curl his fingers, prodding that special spot and drawing noises up, threatening to leave you at any moment. He kept pulling and pushing his knuckles in and out of your hole, where there'd be the most stretch and chance to hear you.

You knew he loved hearing you, it's how he made it through tours where you couldn't come. He just needed to hear your sweet moans and he'd be done within minutes.

You wouldn't dare make a sound now, if you did you'd never be able to speak to your parents again, look at them again. You'd be disowned forever and a day.

Nevertheless, you could feel that burning ball building inside you, you couldn't ignore it and hoped it went away, not when Dave's fingers were working on you as they were.

The conversation was directed mostly towards Dave, your parents were using it as an opportunity to just get mad at him, politely of course.

But Dave... Dave, to put it nicely, was an asshole. He saw the effect he was having on you and needed to hear those sweet sounds he loved oh so much.

"We were actually planning on getting a dog, weren't we, sweetheart?" He asked sweetly, smiling tugging at his plump lips, those same lips you'd kissed a thousand times before, those lips you'd kill to have on you right this second.

Instead of jumping on him right then and there you gave a small nod with a smile to match.

"Go on," he continued, swiftly pulling his fingers from you just to watch you choke back a squeal, "tell your parents about that breed you'd been looking at." He suggested, watching you closely.

"I-I, um..." You trailed, unable to look your parents in the eyes.

You stood up, brushing your dress down and mumbling something about needing fresh air before walking off.

Your parents were confused as you left, wondering what happened to make you feel like that. Not that it would've been hard to put the blame on them, having asked such rude questions about the man you'd told them time and time again that you loved to him, nonetheless.

Dave excused himself, using his best sympathetic tone when saying he needed to go check on you.

You'd gone to your shared bedroom and the second Dave had closed the door behind himself he was on you, wrapping his muscular arms around you and pulling you tight to him, lips crashing against yours.

You tried to push him away but he just moved from your lips to your neck. "Davie-Davie, please! Please, Davie, we-we can't do this!" You tried to reason, hands planted firmly on his shoulders.

"Yes, we can, you just have to have faith, darling." He mused, guiding you backwards to the bed.

He sat you down on the edge of the bed and got on his knees in front of you, spreading your legs and tugging your panties down, giving him full access to your glistening folds.

He went right back to fingering you, only now his tongue made it even more unbearable, circling your clit and collecting your juices. You were so sweet on his tongue, delectable and those noises that had his mind running laps.

You could feel that knot getting dangerously close to snapping. Tears filled your eyes, body trembling as you struggling against Dave's touch, trying to keep you still enough for him. You just wanted to use him, or let him use you, which ever was easier.

You'd been driving yourself crazy with this dinner, you hadn't let yourself get too close to Dave and now that you finally let him in you couldn't take it, it was too much all at once.

You needed it, you needed him so bad.

You bit your lip so hard you drew blood, but it was worth it as you felt the wave of pleasure wash over you, that feeling of pure bliss where your body completely relaxed and you could just feel Dave with your whole being.

He didn't let you enjoy it for as long as you'd like, pulling away, pushing his fingers into his mouth and cleaning them of you before getting your dress right.

He rested his hands on your waist and looked up at you with sincere, warm eyes. "Everything is fine, you did great and you are so, so beautiful tonight, do you know that?" He said.

You had no idea what he was talking about or what he was doing. You wanted to questions him but then the door opened and took all of your attention.

It was your dad coming to check on you. Dave had heard him coming and knew he needed to cover, so he did, shining a smile at your dad as he came in.

"Don't worry, I've got her." He said, standing and pulling you to your feet, holding you close as your knees wobbled from the high he'd just brought you to.

Oh, how he loved you.

Oh, how he tortured you.

You had to sit through the rest of dinner with your parents totally commando in a dress, all while Dave sat completely fine next to you. Well, aside from the obvious tightness in his jeans.