#he can move walls and doors and stairs
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cloudlesspantone · 7 days ago
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Head Butler!Steve but he's a werewolf, Maid!Bucky but he's a vampire, and Sir!Tony but he's a wizard(or witch? idk the difference :()
I was talking about maid Bucky and young master Tony au but one of my friends popped in with "heeeey what if you add butler Steve in that" and I got derailed way off the path with the au
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jinwoosbabyboo · 4 months ago
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In My Little Black Dress
The LADS Men have seen you in your long flowing dresses, but there was something about the way you looked in this particular dress that hugged your curves ; showing off those legs that they dream about being in-between. Artist @/osk_purinnumee on twitter
‼️MDNI MDNI MDNI‼️
Zayne ♡
Storyline: He couldn't help himself after seeing you in that dress.
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"Can you zip me up?" Such an innocent question.
Zayne sat frozen starring at you; his expression giving away nothing. His intense stare caused you to start second guessing whether or not you should wear this dress. "I can change"
"No!" He cleared his throat after his sudden outburst. "No you look beautiful" He stood from his seat on the bed raking his gaze over your body continuously as he circled around behind you. "Just ... perfect" His breath ghosted over your neck as he planted a soft kiss while his hands slowly zipped your dress up.
He spun you around, taking your hand and stepping back to admire you. "I love this dress on you" His voice as soft as silk. Your stomach immediately erupted with butterflies. "Thank you" you whispered back looking away to avoid his piercing gaze.
Before you knew it Zayne was leaning down placing the softest kiss on your lips. His kiss quickly grew hungry as he moved lower, grazing his teeth along your jaw and planting wet kisses down your neck.
"Zayne..." your voice nothing more than a breathy moan. "Hmm?"
"We ... we have to go the award ceremony starts in thirty minutes" He continued his assault on your neck littering kisses as his hands roamed your body. "I need you now" He couldn't help himself seeing the way that dress perfectly hugged your curves while propping his girls up just right.
He backed you against the wall before dropping to his knees and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. You shot a hand out pushing his head back. "Zayne we can't we have to go"
His breath was ragged as he rubbed his nose against your already wet panties before looking up at you through his lashes. "Please" He begged; his breath ghosting over your pussy sending shivers up your spine.
You couldn't help but give in giving a subtle nod and soon after he pulled your panties to the side and took his time with a long languid lick before devouring you like a man starved.
Rafayel ♡
Storyline: No self-control when it comes to you. He has to have you now in the middle of his Art Exhibit.
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Rafayel swore you were teasing him with the dress you decided to wear tonight for his latest Art Exhibit. He couldn't take his eyes off you; watching your hips sway and the way you pulled the hem down when it rose almost giving him a nice view of your ass.
He refused to let you leave his side. He was either holding your hand or wrapping his arms around you from behind. "You look so beautiful baby" He whispered in your ear as he slid his hands up and down the front of your dress. "We should get out of here, go somewhere less noisy"
"This is for you Rafayel we can't just leave" He pouted at your answer as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. "I don't like that answer" A quiet gasp left you as you felt him grind his hardening length against your ass.
"Rafayel!" You whisper-shouted whipping around to glare at him. As soon as your eyes met his you were shocked at how red his cheeks and ears were. You rolled your eyes and exhaled hard; looking around to make sure there were no prying eyes you turned back to Rafayel as a smile stretched across your face. "There's a private room-"
"I know ... I'll be quick .... I don't want to be, but I will be" He cut you off and swiftly tugged you out of the packed venue making his way to the back stairs. Rafayel yanked the private door open pulling you in slamming it behind the two of you and claiming your lips in a heated kiss.
His kiss was breathtaking; you gasped as you felt his hands bunch up your dress and quickly slip into your panties. Rafayel was incredibly skilled with his fingers. He dipped two fingers into you making you tremble as he massaged that spot. "Right there" you moaned between kisses; he moved to you neck as you threw your head back against the door in bliss. It didn't take him long to coax an orgasm out of you.
He smiled against your neck as he pulled his fingers out making you whine. He fumbled with his belt and zipper quickly pulling out his dick that stood hard & red. You were always shocked at how big Raf was it almost seemed like it wouldn't fit.
Not giving you time to catch your breath he slides his hand down your thigh lifting it up and hooking your leg over his hip as he sunk into you with an audible whimper. He lifted your other leg as well; you instinctively locked your legs around his waist as he pounded into you at a ferocious pace.
"Raf- ah!" He slaps his hand over your mouth. "Shhh you have to keep quiet beloved"
Xavier ♡
Storyline: Made it all the way to the Annual Hunters Ball (Yes I made it up get off me) never even made it out of the car.
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Xavier had top tier self-control unless it came to you. The minute he saw you in that tailored gown with a slit to show a little leg he was a goner.
"One more just one more" Xavier whimpered against your soaked cunt. He was currently buried between your legs in the backseat of his car. Thank goodness his windows were tinted otherwise everyone would see you splayed out for him with tears running down your face.
"Xav I can't" You whimpered trying to push his head which only caused him to hold your thighs tighter and flick his tongue faster on your overstimulated clit. "You can do it cum on my face"
Such a dirty mouth for someone with such an innocent looking face. Those deep blue eyes gazing up at you watching your every reaction to his tongue had him so hard he could cut diamonds. You arched into his mouth feeling another orgasm crest letting out the sluttiest moan that didn't even sound like something that would come from you.
Xavier continued to lick and suck catching every drop as you came down from your high. Flattening his tongue so you could grind out the last bit of your orgasm before slumping against the door.
Xavier sat up freeing his painful hard-on from his freshly pressed slacks that were now ruined with his pre-cum. "You can't go in with stained pants"
"That Hunters Ball is the last thing on my mind right now" He said as he lined himself up running his tip through your slick before sinking into you slowly. He shivered as he sheathed himself in you inch by inch "Fuck you have heaven between your thighs babe"
Sylus ♡
Storyline: He has to keep one hand on you or .... maybe two fingers in you.
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Sylus was doing great. He held his composure from the house all the way to the auction. Which wasn't easy watching your hips sway, ass bounce, and tits jiggle as you ran around putting on your last touches of makeup, jewelry, and redoing your hair twice because you didn't like how your edges looked with the first style.
The dress you had on left just barely enough for the imagination while simultaneously being classy. Sylus couldn't help but at least keep one hand on you.
Long tablecloths were draped over every table giving Sylus the perfect idea. You two sat at a table towards the back of the venue and as soon as the lights dimmed to begin the auction you felt Sylus hand slide up your left thigh. "I'm right handed Sylus my knife is on the other side" You whispered to him.
"I wasn't looking for your weapon Princess" He whispered as his hand inched towards the apex of your thighs. You took a sharp inhale as his fingers brushed against the lining of your panties. "You're already wet sweetie ... in a place like this? How scandalous" Your breathing became ragged as he slid your panties to the side and dipped two fingers into you. He stroked your G spot causing you to cover your mouth with your fist to keep from making noise.
"Sy-Sylus" You moaned as you leaned forward pretending to be interested in what the auctioneer was saying. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop"
He flattened his palm giving your clit more stimulation. "Then go ahead ... cum on my hand" He leaned over making it look as though he was just whispering in your ear when in reality he gave your ear lobe a soft nip before sucking it between his lips. That sent you right over the edge. Soft whimpers fell from your lips as you dripped all over his hand.
Sylus pulled his fingers out giving you a cheeky smirk before stirring his glass of whiskey with his fingers that you just came all over. "Now that's a one of a kind drink"
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rafeandonlyrafe · 3 months ago
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gold ring
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words: 1.3k
warnings: brief suspicion of cheating, established relationship, soft!rafe, proposal, fluffy
“rafe!” you groan out, tired of hearing his phone constantly dinging for the past ten minutes. 
when rafe doesn't answer, you slap your laptop closed, frown on your face as you head up the stairs, muttering to yourself about him interrupting your work that he KNOWS is important.
“rafe!” you shout, entering his bedroom. you can finally hear the spray of the shower, explaining why he was letting his phone go off.
you grab it from his bedside table, yanking the charger free as you go to silence it, but upon trying to stop the dinging, you skim over the notifications.
you don't believe it at first. it must be some kind of mistake, you're sure.
you click on the name of rafes ex girlfriend, opening up the text message thread.
rafe: when can we meet?
ex: whenever works for you 🥺
ex: i miss you a lot btw
ex: this friday at 6pm? we can meet at the country club like we always used to. maybe get dinner? can't wait to see you xxx
you frown at the messages, quickly locking the phone and setting it down when you hear the shower turn off.
rafe steps out with just a towel wrapped around his waist.
“hey princess.” he smiles. “how's the essay going?”
“fine.” your tone is cold, surprising rafe. “your phone was ringing so i silenced it.”
you walk out of the room without another word, needing to return to your homework, but when you sit back down at what has become your desk, you can't concentrate on the words on the screen, your anger bubbling over.
you want to confront rafe, but you need time to breathe otherwise the entire conversation will be unintelligible as you simply sob.
you head upstairs, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder as rafe emerges from the closet, fully dressed.
“where you going babe? got study group?” he questions, glancing at the clock on the wall, realizing there's no way study group would be meeting this late.
“going home.” you mumble, making sure everything you usually leave at rafes is stuffed in your bag.
“you are home?” rafe questions, his expression turning sad when he sees you're not joking.
“no, im not rafe.” you sigh. “i want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”
truth is, you've practically moved into tanneyhill since you started dating rafe, but technically you still live at your parents house, only a few doors down from rafes.
“is everything alright?” rafe asks, trying to reach out for you. “what did i do wrong?”
you can't help it anymore, his obvious disrespect for your relationship, something you put years of work into only for him to go back to his ex girlfriend.
“how about you ask your ex?” you question, tears streaming down your cheeks.
“my ex? what are you talking about?” rafe asks, again trying to hold you by your shoulders, but you take a step back before his palms can land on you.
rafe: ive asked you a million times to give that ring back. you never should have taken it in the first place. it was my grandmother's and now it belongs to y/n, not you.
“i saw your texts, rafe. when can we meet? are you fucking kidding me!?” you shout the last sentence.
“baby, wait.” he says softly, grabbing his phone. he opens up the messages, scrolling up so you can see the full context.
ex: i don't know where it is 
rafe: bullshit. give it back or ill call the cops
ex: fine. 
rafe: when can we meet?
“see, baby?” rafe places a soft hand on your shoulder. “i was just trying to get my shit back. i have no interest in my ex at all. i love you.”
“oh, rafe!” you coo out, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “im so sorry i doubted you.”
“it's okay, id also be pissed if you were texting your ex. i didn't tell you just because i wanted to keep it a surprise.”
“keep what a surprise?” you furrow your brows together.
“what do you?- ohhh.” rafe finally catches on, letting out a chuckle. “i see what you're doing.”
you giggle, rising to your tiptoes to press a kiss to rafes soft lips. 
“now let's get back to work on that essay, yeah?” rafe says. “i can help you.”
“and what do you know about microbiology that could possibly help me?” you snicker.
rafe rolls his eyes dramatically. “fine, but i can at least be there for moral support.”
--
you've been expecting it for months now, wondering when rafe will pop the question. you know he got the ring back, and while he's taken you on romantic dates and moonlit walks on the beach, you're not sure when he will actually drop to one knee.
“what are you thinking for your nails this week?” your girlfriend asks.
originally, you were doing all white and plain, but recently for summer you've been branching out to bright colors again.
“why, is there a certain color i should get?” you raise your eyebrow at her. 
“well i was gonna get a sparkly white, maybe we could match.” she shrugs. it's no discredit to your friend, but her acting isn't good enough to fool you, and you're sure that rafe asked her to make sure you get something appropriate and properly bridal.
you of course get simple nails that you hope will compliment a silver ring on your finger.
you look at the calendar hanging on the wall, reading through your events for the upcoming week, trying to figure out when rafe may ask the question.
you ultimately give up on trying to figure it out as you head further into the house, calling out for rafe. 
“baby? where are you?” you shout, surprised when you don't get a response. you head up to your bedroom, figuring he must be in the shower, but the bathroom door is wide open when you enter.
you almost miss it, so set on finding rafe, but the dress laying on the edge of the bed ends up catching your attention.
put this on and meet me outside.
you recognize rafes handwriting instantly. you set the paper to the side and look at the dress. its a soft light pink material, nearly white.
you are quick to undress and put on the flowy dress, admiring yourself in the mirror before touching up your hair and makeup next. rafe knows how you like to prepare for big events in your life.
your steps are slow, or at least you attempt to keep them slow, as you want to cherish this moment. your eyes light up with the glow of the backyard, string lights hanging from every tree, and on the edge of the sand, is rafe.
“oh.” you cover your mouth, feeling tears well up in your eyes. this has to be the moment. you run to him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he spins you.
“baby, i haven’t even asked yet.” rafe chuckles, setting you down.
“and i’m already saying yes.” you giggle, although it’s no secret to rafe what your answer would be.
“still-” rafe places his hands on your hips, stilling you before he drops down onto one knee, pulling a box out of his pocket. he flips open the lid to reveal the most stunning ring you’ve ever seen, it’s exactly what you envisioned and somehow so much more.
“you’ve made me happier than i ever thought possible. you fixed all my broken pieces and made me whole again. there’s no one else i’d rather spend forever with.”
rafe looks up at you, tears brimming in his eyes, overwhelmed with the emotion of the moment. “will you marry me?”
“yes!” you squeal, falling to your knees alongside rafe and pressing your lips against his. “yes, yes. a million times yes.”
sfw tags: @winterrrnight @cameronswiftie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0
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watchmegetobsessed · 8 months ago
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MAKE HER REGRET IT
A/N: i was really in the mood for some smut and the neighbors trope popped into my head, so here we are!
WORD COUNT: 4.1k
WARNING: sexual content
SUMMARY: Harry, your freshly divorced, insanely hot neighbor needs your help: you have to pretend to be his new girlfriend when his ex-wife comes over, however your little stunt outdoes your expectations in a lot of ways.
MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!
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It's a basic instinct for you at this point to look up at the balcony whenever you’re approaching your apartment building. However you’re not looking at yours, but the one next to yours that belongs to one hot, freshly divorced guy who moved in next door about two months ago. 
You remember the morning the moving truck appeared and you knew someone was taking the vacant apartment beside yours. You just arrived back from your morning run and you jumped right into guesses about who it will be. Maybe someone your age? A girl you can go to yoga with? Or a sweet old lady you can have tea with on warm afternoons? Hopefully not a noisy family, because the walls are way too thin to endure the screaming of a child. 
Then you saw him. Carrying a heavy looking box up the stairs, a simple white shirt stretching on his torso, tattooed arms flexing under the weight of the box, you knew you were fucked the first time you saw Harry Styles. 
It took you no time to lurk over the next day and introduce yourself as his neighbor. 
“If you need suggestions for coffee spots around the neighborhood, I’m your person,” you smiled at him charmingly as he stood in his doorway in gray sweats and a black t-shirt, hair messy but so delicious, it was screaming for your fingers to run through his locks. 
“I will definitely keep that in mind. I can offer to fix anything around your apartment, I’m kind of a handyman,” he chuckled and your knees almost buckled hearing his creamy british accent. 
Fate played on your hand, because you kept running into each other so it didn’t take long for you to go out for a coffee run together and it was smooth sailing from then. You learned about how he just got divorced, his wife cheated on him and he found out on their second anniversary, tragic story and you still can’t quite understand how any woman could cheat on a man like him. You practically drool every time you catch a glimpse of him arriving back from a run in nothing but a pair of shorts, his tanned skin glistening from sweat. You definitely love to move out to the balcony around the time he can be expected to appear in the late afternoon, you watch him stretch and breathe heavily and the sight alone makes you break a sweat as well, but for a whole different reason. 
You’ve been trying to flirt with him every possible occasion, but you also make sure you don’t come off too pushy. After all he just got out of a marriage, it must be hard on him to recover from being cheated on. There’s also a slight age difference between the two of you, not that dramatic, but that eight years could easily be a deal breaker for him, so you’ve been playing it safe. 
When you’re lying in bed late at night and sleep is not coming to you, you can’t help but think of how he is on the other side of the wall, you imagine him sleeping without a shirt, maybe thinking about you the way you like to think of him… But it’s all just a fantasy, one you fancy very much. 
The door to his balcony is open so you know he is home, but he is not out. You take your time walking up the stairs, your legs are definitely tired from the run you just had and just when you reach your floor Harry’s front door swings open and you stop, watching him walk over to your door. He didn’t notice you, so you stay still and watch him take a deep breath as he lifts his fist up to knock, but then it falls back to his side and he shakes his head, stepping backwards before returning to his spot on your doormat and that’s when you decide to put him out of his misery. 
“Are you out of sugar, neighbor?” you ask, slowly walking towards him. Harry spins around with a stunned expression. 
“Oh, I didn’t–I didn’t see you.” You catch his gaze running down your body and legs and you’re thankful you decided to wear your shortest shorts. 
Playing with your keys in your hands, you finally reach him. 
“What’s up?”
“Um… I have a bit of a situation on my hands and you might be able to help me.”
Unlocking the door you push it in and gesture for him to follow you inside. 
“Do tell me.”
Rounding your way into the kitchen you step to the fridge to grab some water. Harry hesitantly follows you and stops by the kitchen counter. 
“So, I talked to Rory this morning,” he starts. You’ve heard enough about Rory, his ex wife to know that if she’s involved, it’s for sure something messy. “You know that painting in my living room?” You nod. “Well, she insists it’s hers, because a friend of hers painted it, but I was the one who paid for it. Whatever. She’s been trying to get me to give it to her and honestly I’m over it so I gave in. She is picking it up today.”
“When will the part where I can help come?”
“Right here,” he chuckles nervously. “We got into a fight, no surprise. She screamed at me over the phone and told me I’ll die alone because no one can put up with my shit.”
You need to force yourself to swallow the bitterness in your mouth. That woman sounds very much like the spawn of the devil, because who would say that to anyone? Especially to Harry? Aside from being insanely hot you’ve also learned just how kind, passionate and funny he is, basically the whole deal. Rory is the biggest loser in history for letting go of a man like him. 
“One thing followed the other and I just… Um, I told her that I have someone.”
The light bulb switches on in your mind, because you already know where this is heading. And you like it, very much. 
“I don’t know what got into me, but I told her she can meet my alleged girlfriend when she picks up the painting so she can see herself that I’m not the loser she thinks I am. And… as you might now, I do not have anyone…”
“You want me to be your fake girlfriend,” you finish for him, saving him from having to say it out loud. You can see just how awkward he is, having to ask you for such a thing. 
“Basically, yeah. Only if you don’t mind being part of this shitshow. I understand if you find it weird and I don’t expect you to–”
“When should I be over at yours?” you simply ask and watch his eyes go wide. 
“Y-You will do it?”
“Sure, sounds fun. Besides, I’m curious to see the stupidest woman on earth,” you add smirking and he finally lets out a relieved laugh as well. 
“Thank you so much, Y/N. Really, I owe you big time. She’ll be here in about two hours.”
“Perfect. I’ll be there.”
For the next two hours, you do everything you can to bring out the hottest version of yourself. Hair, makeup, dress, everything is on spot when you step out of your apartment and walk over to Harry’s door, ringing the bell. 
When the door swings open and Harry sees you his mouth hangs open, giving you that one last ego boost you need to be the best possible fake girlfriend ever. 
“Satisfied with your girlfriend?” you ask, tilting your head. 
“I-I uh–Yeah! I’m… yes.”
“Can I go inside then?” you ask with a chuckle and he steps aside in a hurry.
“Sorry, yeah come inside.”
“So what’s the plan?” you ask, walking into his living room and making yourself comfortable on the couch. Harry follows, but he takes the armchair across you and you can tell he is still struggling with not ogling you, especially your exposed legs and deep cleavage the dress teases him with. 
“I don’t… I have no idea, I have never done this before.”
“I have.”
“Really?”
“Just once, in college. One of my friends broke up with a girl who did not take it well and I was his fake girlfriend for a week to get her to stop harassing him. It worked.”
“Then… I trust you with anything.”
“What’s the goal?”
Harry opens his mouth, but then closes, as if he is embarrassed to say what’s on his mind. 
“Harry, say it. I’m happy to help with anything.”
“I want to make her regret it.”
“Regret what she said?”
“Regret everything,” he corrects and when he looks you in the eye a shiver runs down your spine from the determination that’s behind his green irises. 
“Consider it done,” you smile at him devilishly. 
At your suggestion you both take a shot to ease your nerves and make it easier to lie. It seems to loosen him just enough that he doesn’t look like he is about to attend an interrogation. 
And then the bell rings. 
“Show time,” you smile at him and as he walks over to the door you take your place on the couch again. 
You hear the door open and then a female voice mixes with Harry’s before the footsteps follow. Harry comes into view first, but then Rory steps out from behind him and you see the pure shock in her eyes when she finally spots you. 
“Oh, hi!” you smile at her almost disgustingly sweetly as you stand from the couch and walk closer. “You must be Rony. I’m Y/N.” You hold out a hand for her and watch as her mouth twitches when she hears you mess her name up. 
“Rory,” she sassily says and shakes your hand at last. “So you’re the… girlfriend.” The disgust in her tone is apparent, she is not even trying to hide it and it just makes it way more enjoyable. 
“Yes and you must be the cheating ex-wife.”
Harry coughs beside you, he was not expecting you to be this blunt, but the look on Rory’s face is priceless, because she can’t deny what she is. Moving closer to Harry you wrap an arm around his waist and though at first he freezes at your closeness, he is quick to recover and join in on the act, his arm finding your waist as well. 
“The painting is over there, just take it and let’s get over with it, alright?” Harry nods towards the painting he already took off the wall, now it’s leant against the console table that’s been underneath it. 
“You didn’t even wrap it?” she scoffs. How am I supposed to take it like this?”
“Rory, I’m not a fucking gallery. You wanted the painting, take it.”
“It’s gonna be ruined if I just put it into my car like this!” she argues. 
“That’s none of my business.”
“Harry, this is so not okay! I can’t–”
“Jesus, Rory fine! I think I have some bubble wrap,” he grunts, heading into his bedroom to find something to wrap the painting in, leaving the two of you alone.
Rory gives you another long, dirty look, as if you were the woman Harry cheated on her with when she is the culprit of this mess here. 
“So how long have you been together?” she then asks, pretending like she is just chit chatting, but you know she is eager to know everything about you.
“A little over a month now. You know, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but Harry is just the perfect guy and I couldn’t stay away from him.”
“Oh, he is not that perfect, little girl.”
It’s obvious she tried to derogate you by calling you a little girl, she must be around the age of Harry, not more than thirty-six for sure, but she can’t find anything to use against you other than the fact that you’re clearly in your twenties. How mature. 
“I know. But everything he can give me makes it worth it. And the sex, ah!”
She gives you a puzzled look. You knew this would stir her up, Harry mentioned how distant they grew in the last few months and sex wasn’t the same anymore. Looking at the timeline she must have started her affair around that time and Harry couldn’t perform the way he otherwise could because she wasn’t open to him anymore. It was a vicious cycle, but you also know Rory is the kind of woman who must have humiliated him because of that. Harry never said, but you just feel that she criticized his sexual performance when she left him even if it all happened because of her. 
And now hearing that he is giving his all to another woman is definitely something that can drive her nuts. 
“Oh please, he sucks in bed,” she scoffs.
“Not with the right partner. He is so good, I honestly don’t know how you could let go of him.”
“He couldn’t make me cum for months!”
“That’s unfortunate. I get an orgasm basically after every meal. He is so good at it, honestly, it’s like he just wants to please me every possible moment. I mean, I can’t remember a morning when I didn’t wake up with his head between my legs, he loves quickies, I have to sanitize the kitchen counter like twice a day.” You let out a chuckle and just watch as her face grows redder while staring at the kitchen counter, raging jealousy swirling in her mind for sure. It’s clearer than daylight that she didn’t cheat on him because he wasn’t manly enough, this woman is simply a stupid loser who couldn’t appreciate what she had, maybe panicked that she can’t mess around with others and then simply chose to ruin everything. 
You’re more than happy to remind her what she lost. 
“Alright, this is all I got,” Harry emerges from the bedroom with some bubble wrap he probably had left from moving, but when he sees you and Rory staring each other down, he stops. But before he could speak up, you decide to push that knife into Rory’s chest as your final move. 
Stepping over to Harry you push yourself up against him, he drops the bubble wrap and his hands grab you by the waist instantly, though you see confusion in his eyes before you take his face in your hands and pull him closer, lips pressing against his hungrily. 
It’s not a sweet, shy first kiss. This is the perfect show off, messy, passionate, full of tongue and eagerness as you practically devour each other. For a bit you forget about the show you’re putting up and it’s your real desire you’ve been fighting for weeks now. Every time you try to pull back Harry just keeps demanding more and you happily give him what he wants. He bites into your bottom lip when one of his hands moves down to your ass, giving it a not-at-all shy squeeze, making you moan into the kiss. 
It feels like it takes forever for you to stop, when you open your eyes you’re met with Harry’s hungry eyes, his lips are slightly swollen and shiny from your kisses. 
And then you remember you’re not alone. 
“Oh, fuck you. Fuck you both!” Rory pops the bubble around you and when you turn to look at her, she is already grabbing the painting, not even bothering to wrap it. 
“It was nice to meet you!” you call after her.
“Fuck you!” she repeats, marching towards the door and you’re just smirking like an idiot, pleased with yourself for pissing her off so badly. 
Harry follows her to shut the door behind her and you let yourself bathe in the sweet victory you just earned. 
“This went amazing, right? She was so mad, oh my God!” you laugh, but your smile quickly disappears when you realize the serious look on Harry’s face as he is walking back towards you. 
Shit, maybe the kiss was too much. He didn’t want it and now he is pissed at you.
“Are you mad about the kiss? I-I’m sorry if it was too–”
The words die down on your lips when they crash against his again, his hand cupping the back of your head while the other returns straight to your ass, groping you so hard your whole body smashes against his. 
Your mouth opens in surprise and it gives him the chance to push his tongue against yours, he is demanding, rough and so much more raw than what you imagined him to be like. 
“What did you tell her?” he asks against your mouth, moving you around until the small of your back hits the kitchen counter. “What did you tell her that made her so pissed?” he demands, his hand already eagerly moving underneath your dress. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. 
“I said, ah–I said I wake up every day with… your head between my legs, and… Oh fuck!” You’re losing your ability to speak your thoughts as his fingers start circling, the fabric of your underwear is so drenched, if you could think straight you might be embarrassed just how aroused he made you so fast. 
“And?” he urges you to continue, but at the same time he pushes your underwear to the side and pushes two fingers into you without warning, making you gasp so loud that people on the street must have heard it through the open balcony door. 
“A-and that you fuck me on the… the kitchen counter all the time.”
He curls his fingers inside you as he keeps talking.
“Then that’s what I’ll do to you now. Are you okay with that?” he asks and you nod eagerly as you hold onto his broad shoulders. 
The next moment he pulls his hand back and you whine, feeling empty all of a sudden, but then he lifts you up and makes you sit on the counter, he lowers himself and places your legs over his shoulders with careful, but confident moves. You grab onto his hair as he pushes his head between your thighs and his mouth meets your clit. 
“Oh, fuck! Harry!” you gasp out, tugging on his hair as he swirls his tongue against your swollen clit, his fingers teasing your hole again. Then they push into you and he sucks on your clit, making you see stars. 
You imagined him to be skilled, but whatever it is he is doing to you, it feels out of this world and now you know you weren’t wrong when you praised him that much to Rory before. 
You’re totally out of breath when he comes up, he kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue, your hands impatiently tug on his shirt to get rid of it. Soon the fabric lands on the tiled floor and you map out every inch of his hard chest with your palm and while you keep kissing like there’s no tomorrow, you faintly hear the zipper of his pants come undone. 
You look him in the eyes when you reach down and take his hard length into your hands and you can’t hold back a gasp when you realize just how big he is. 
“I know you can take it, baby,” he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth and you’re ready to take him right then and there, but he moves back, making you reach for him in panic. “Condom,” he says and you lean back onto your elbows with a sigh as you watch him disappear in his bedroom. You have just a few seconds you process that here you are, on top of Harry’s kitchen counter, with your dress bunched up around your waist, your drenched pussy on show, waiting to be fucked properly. You definitely did not expect this outcome when you woke up this morning, but you’re not complaining. 
Then Harry appears and he is walking over to you, completely naked, his dick in his hands as he rolls the condom on while moving and you bite into your bottom lip, hoping to remember this view until the end of time. 
When he reaches you again he simply curls his arms around your thighs and tugs on you so you get closer to the edge. His erection wedges between your wet folds and the tip pokes against your clit, making you clench around nothing. 
“I have to admit, I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on this counter since the day I moved in and saw you for the first time.”
“Just on the counter?” you ask teasingly. 
“Every surface of this fucking apartment,” he admits with no remorse.
“Make a list then and I’m more than happy to do them all. But let’s tick the counter off first.”
“Don’t have to ask me twice.”
He reaches down and circles his thumb against your clit a bit before grabbing his dick by the base and dragging it up and down your cunt a few times before pushing the head in first, letting you adjust to his thickness first. When you claw at his chest he takes it as a sign to go deeper and he keeps pushing until you take his whole length, feeling fuller than ever before. 
“I want to go hard,” he breathes out, staying still for now.
“Go hard then. I can take it,” you assure him, though you do have doubts feeling just how stretched out you are now. 
“Of course you can. You’re my good girl,” he praises you and before you could get a word out, he pulls back and slams into you hard. 
There are moments when you actually think you’re about to burst, Harry did not joke when he said he wants to go hard, his thrusts are fast and rough and he makes sure he buries his whole length into you every time he pushes into you. At one point he pulls your legs over his shoulders and it allows him to reach a point in you no one has before and it pushes you towards the edge rapidly. The counter is painfully hard underneath you, but you somehow forget about the pain and only focus on how hard Harry is railing into you. His stamina is incredible, your body already feels like goo and you’re not even doing the actual work. 
“Harry, I’m so close,” you moan and his fingers dig deeper into your thighs at your words. 
“Come around my cock, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze me.”
You cry out his name again, a tear rolling down your cheek, because you’re so desperate to let go. Harry moves a hand to where you meet and his thumb returns to your clit and that’s what throws you over the edge. 
Your back arches and you squeeze around him uncontrollably, gasping for air as he ruthlessly keeps fucking into you. 
“That’s it, baby. You look so fucking beautiful, coming on my cock.”
You can’t stop moaning as you ride out your orgasm. The last waves are washing over your body when his movements fall out of rhythm, he slams into you hard and he sucks on his breath before moaning out your name over and over again, pushing into you a few more times as he comes. He falls forward, his face burying into your heaving chest as he tries to catch his breath along with you. There’s a long minute of silent bliss, his cock is still inside you, his lips peppering soft kisses onto the skin that’s exposed on your chest while you’re mindlessly playing with his hair. 
When he straightens up he pulls out of you, the empty feeling hitting you again. He carefully helps you off the counter, but keeps his arms around you, because when your feet hit the floor you wobble. 
Nuzzling your nose against his chest you take the cross pendant on his necklace between your teeth and pull back, looking him in the eyes. 
“Don’t do that, or we’re moving to the next place on the list.”
Giggling you let go of it and push yourself up to steal a kiss. 
“Give me some time to recover, but I’m all in to check out another place.”
“Jesus, I knew you’d be the death of me the moment I saw you,” he breathes out, before his mouth claims yours hungrily. 
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
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darkbluekies · 3 months ago
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Stupid people
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Yandere!mafia!oc x reader
Summary: a number sends Silas a picture of darling that sends him into rage
Warnings: murder, mentions of NSFW, Silas lashes out towards darling, guilt, slight indication of a character asking if it was consensual (it was — the deed, not the pictures), pictures taken without permission, punching and kicking between legs
Word count: 2.7k
A/N: to clarify, the photos are taken AFTER the deed, not during!
There's only two people Silas likes enough to let them be in his office for more than asking a question — you and SIC.
“Stupid people are my favorite kind of people”, SIC says from the couch, eyes glued onto his phone. “Some idiot here tried to jump from a roof.”
“If only our enemies did that so that i didn't have to go kill them”, Silas smirks.
“Since when were we that lucky?”
A notification on his own phone caught his attention. Silas picks it up and unlocks it, seeing that the notification is from an unsaved number. He clenches his jaw. Photos. It takes a second for him to realize what — who — is in these two photos. He can recognise that back among millions. He sees that back every night, always holding it close to his chest.
“Motherfucker!” he shouts and rises from his chair in a swift.
“What?” SIC asks quickly, looking up from his screen.
Silas slams his phone down on the floor. It shatters and explodes in every direction. SIC jumps up from the couch.
“Woah, what’s going on?” he asks quickly. 
Silas can't reply. His heart is hammering in his throat. If he tries to speak, it'll jump out. His entire body is shaking. He's been mad before, but nothing compares to what he feels when you are involved.
“Silas?” SIC asks. “Sit down.”
He presses Silas down in the chair again.
“What happened?” he asks. “Give me a real fucking answer this time.”
“Some disgusting little bitch sent me photos of Y/N”,  he spits out, growing angrier by every word. “Naked, in a bed. I think you can figure out the rest yourself.”
SIC blinks. “Shit. Who?”
Silas gestures manically towards the broken phone. “I didn't write the number down before I fucking smashed it!”
“Alright. I'll take out the sim card and put it in my phone. I can find out.”
“Don't look at the photos, got that? I'm not joking. I will beat you up if I find out that you've looked at the photos.”
“Don't worry, boss, I won't.”
Silas sighs in frustration. He storms out of his office, up the stairs and throws up the door to your shared bedroom. You're nowhere to be found.
“Y/N!” he shouts angrily.
You come out of the bathroom, looking bewildered. A fear grows on your face when you realize how mad he is.
“What's wrong?” you ask quickly.
“Who the fuck have taken pics of you while having sex?!” he shouts. “Who is the low creature that has pictures of you?!”
Your eyes widen.
“What?” you ask. “Silas-”
He moves closer and you can't describe his demeanor in any other way than threatening. You stumble backwards, finally reaching the wall. Even when he's mad, he'd never do things to make you scared of him, never show you the side he shows his men and enemies. But this time, he doesn't seem to care about holding back. You get to see what everyone else sees.
“Whoever the little fucker is, I will shove that camera of his so far up his ass it'll puncture a lung, do you understand that?” Silas spits, face mere centimeters from your face. 
“Silas, I-”, you stutter.
Silas grabs the perfume standing on the shelf beside you and sends it flying across The room, breaking against the wall. You watch on in complete horror. Not even in the basement is he this violent, not around you.
Behind him, you see SIC run into the room, stopping in the doorway. He watches on with wide eyes.
“Who is it?” he spits before raising his voice. “Give me the name of the worthless little creature! I'll kill him!”
“Silas, I don't know!” you shout loudly in order to be heard over his own shouting. Tears blurry your vision as silence fills the room. “I d-don't know, I swear! I have no knowledge of a-any pictures taken of me. Please don’t be mad at me, I don’t know anything, I s-swear …”
You have wrapped your arms around yourself. You look so incredibly small. And helpless. He feels as if someone has punched him right in the stomach. He can't bring himself to shout at you. The fire in his eyes seems to blow out, leaving his eyes as dark as they should. He breathes heavily, feeling empty and painfully aware of everything around him — every little sound, movement. He finally realizes what's going on.
“Fuck”, he breathes out in a whisper and pulls you into his arms, into a tight embrace. “I'm so sorry.”
You sob into his shoulder, voice getting muffled in his white shirt. Silas hugs you as if his life depends on it.
“Baby, I didn't mean to shout at you”, he whispers. “I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at that disgusting filth. Not you, do you understand?”
He pulls you back and covers your face in apologetic kisses, caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears.
“Are you okay?” he asks, grabbing your face and forcing you to look him in the eyes.
You nod slightly and sniffle. Still shaking, but not mortified. 
“What pictures?” you ask with an unsteady voice.
Silas looks at SIC.
“Did you get the number?” he asks.
“No, I didn't have time to move over the sim card before I heard the glass shattering.”
Silas clears his throat. His ears turn red.
“Go retrieve the number and then come back”, he says.
SIC nods and walks out. Silas turns to you. He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips carefully.
“Sorry”, he says again.
“It’s … okay”, you mumble.
It doesn't seem to register for him. He has a guilty look in his black eyes.
“Silas … what pictures?” you ask again, dreading the answer yet needing to know.
“There’s nothing to worry about, I shouldn’t have told you. I will take care of it, okay?”
“You got so upset about it … something must be wrong. Have someone taken pics of me while I’ve … had sex?”
Silas can’t tell you. He knows how distraught you’ll be. 
“No, not while you had … after you were done … I don’t know”, he says. “I could have misunderstood the pictures. I broke my phone right after seeing them.” He notices how you give him an unsure gaze as he mentions his phone. “I get worked up quickly.”
You sniffle. Silas wipes your tears again and hugs you even tighter, resting his cheek on the top of your head. He feels like a complete fool, how could he slip up like that? He would never shout at you, never make you feel threatened. For fuck sake, you’re supposed to seek shelter and comfort in him!
“Are you sure that you’re okay?” Silas asks. 
“Mhm”, you mumble. “Just shaking.”
“I can tell.” His embrace tightens. “Let’s sit down, alright?”
He moves you to the bed and sits down with you beside him. 
“What have you done today?” he asks and wraps his arm around your shoulders. 
“I’ve been watching some shows”, you reply. 
“Which one?”
“Some cartoon … I don’t remember the name.”
“Do you think I’d like it?”
You give him a small smile and shake your head. “No, it’s too cheesy for you.”
Silas smiles. “What type of fucking stereotype is that? Show me and I’ll decide for myself.”
You reach for the tablet and show him a few minutes of the cartoon. He leans onto you, wrapping himself around you like a boa constrictor. 
The door opens and SIC returns with his phone in his hand. 
“Got it”, he says and walks over to the bed. “Y/N, take a look and-”
Silas slaps his hand away. 
“Are you fucking out of your mind?” he scolds him. “You’re not showing them those!”
SIC holds his phone out of Silas’s reach. 
“I am”, SIC replies.
Silas stands up. The animalistic, lredatory light is back in his eyes. You don’t doubt that he would punch him. 
“I am going to show these pictures to Y/N to confirm that they remember the sex happening”, SIC explains sharply. “Because if they don’t, we might have a worse crime on our hands.”
Silas doesn’t reply. He seems to think, and seems to consider whether he should punch the man or not. He nods in defeat. SIC gives you the phone and you take a mortified look at the two pictures. 
“Do you recognise where you are in these two pictures?” SIC asks. “Do you know when this was? Do you have memories of it?”
You look at the pictures, fearing that you’re not going to recognise the location or remember what happened … or who you were with.
“I know when and where this is”, you say. “It was five years ago. I remember it.”
“You're sure you remember it?” SIC asks.
“Yes … but I didn't know that he took pics …” 
“Okay, the fucker is dead”, Silas decides.
“What was his name?” SIC asks.
“‘Eric’ something”, you say. “I met him at a party. He was nice, or so i thought, and-”
Silas runs a hand through his black hair and sighs.
“I guess that he wasn't that nice”, you mumble.
“Pricks like that are never nice. They're just polite enough to lure people to get what they want. Who knows how many innocent people's photos he has on his hard drive?”
“Silas, can you do me a favor?”
“What?”
“If you manage to find him-”
“Not if; when.”
“When you manage to find him, give him an extra punch from me, will you?”
Silas smiles. “I'll give him tenfolds.”
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Finding him is easier than the poor fellow had anticipated. Silas pities him. He's either too stupid to know who he is or has a death wish. He can't decide which one is worse.
“God, you're even uglier than i imagined”, Silas scoffs as he sees the man for the first time.
He's held up by two of his men, body pounded with punches beyond recognizable, but they've left his face untouched. That's for Silas to ruin.
“You're even uglier than your mess of a body”, he says, grabbing the man's face, tuning it carelessly. “We haven't even touched this yet. What did you gain from this? Not a lot, I see. I mean, you're here, in my basement, about to be killed. Can't say that I understand your intentions.”
“Did you like the pictures?” Eric asks, voice drowning in painful moans.
“‘Did i like the pictures?’” Silas repeats, appalled by the man's lack of remorse. “I don't need your pitiful pictures. I get the full act from whatever angle I want.”
It shouldn't make him cocky, but bragging about it always fills him with pride.
“Give me his phone”, he orders.
One of his men digs up the phone from Eric's pocket. He forces him to unlock it.
“Do you take these types of pictures often?” Silas asks, eyes narrowing as he scrolls past hundreds of women sleeping in beds. “What even are these?”
“I take a picture of the woman after our session, after she's fallen asleep”, Eric replies, “as a trophy.”
“As a-”, he cuts himself off. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Silas hits him with all his might. Eric's head shoots backwards, his neck acting like a jojo to get it back. Blood runs down from his nose.
“Delete all the pictures”, he tells SIC and gives him the phone. “From the phone, any cloud, any other hard-drive. These pictures will never be seen by anyone ever again.”
“Yes, boss”, SIC replies and takes the phone.
He disappears up the stairs. Silas turns to Eric.
“How did you get my number?” he asks. “And, when you got it, didn't you check to see who it belonged to? You're pretty stupid.”
“I just know that the number belonged to Y/N’s new boyfriend”, Eric replies.
“Husband.”
It shouldn't fill him with such pride at a moment like this, yet it does. 
“You're going to die now anyway, so it doesn't matter if I tell you my name”, Silas says. 
One of his men gives him a knife with a long shiny blade.
“Boss”, SIC says from the top of the stairs. “Y/N’s here.”
Silas hurries to give the knife back and gestures for him to hide it. 
“I’ll come upstairs”, he says. 
Before he has time to move, you've bursted past SIC. He tries to grab at you, but you're already half down the stairs.
“You absolute worthless piece of shit”, you spit.
Silas raises his eyebrows. 
Oh?
You run right over to Eric and slap him. Silas stands stunned. It takes him a few moments to gather himself and stop looking like a fool. He turns to the stairs where SIC stands, holding his hand over his face, laughing silently. He folds and has to hold onto the wall.
“How could you take such pictures?” you ask him. “What gave you the right?”
Silas grabs your shoulder to pull you away from him, but you shake him off.
“It's not like I took pics while we had sex”, Eric says, voice sounding even more painful.
Silas smirks. He can already tell that'll happen by the way your eyes widen. And he won't stop it. Won't even try to. You hit the man again and kick him between the legs. He tries to curl up, but is being held up by Silas’s men. 
“Okay, okay”, Silas says and grabs your shoulders, pulling you backwards. “Enough of that. SIC, take Y/N to the bedroom and make sure they stay there.”
SIC grabs you out of his arms. Silas grabs the knife once more. 
“What should we start with?” he asks, spinning the knife. “Your hands? Arms? Legs? Decide, coward.”
SIC forces you upstairs before he has the time to cut off any body parts.
“Let me go!” you mutter. 
“Just stay quiet until we get up to the bedroom”, SIC says. “Nice shot you got, by the way. I know it caught Silas by surprise. That’s hard to do, you know.”
“He deserves more.”
“And Silas will give him that, don’t you worry. That is not your job. You got two punches and one kick in, that’s enough.”
WHen you try to run back downstairs, he picks you up over his shoulder and continues upstairs. 
“Don’t give me more trouble”, he sighs. 
SIC walks into the bedroom and places you down on the floor before barricading the door with his body to make sure you’re not making a run for it. 
“The pictures are gone”, SIC says. “All of them — of you and of other people.”
“How many were there?”
“Hundreds. All taken when they had fallen asleep afterwards. He kept them like trophies.”
The door opens before he’s done with his sentence. Silas walks in, finally looking pleased. 
“Dona already?” SIC asks. 
“I got impatient”, he mutters and closes the door. “Little thing, are you okay?”
You nod. Silas hugs you, kissing the top of your head. He still feels awful about shouting at you. He squeezes you even tighter. 
“Thank you”, you say quietly. “You helped not only me but also a lot of other people. That’s a good thing.”
His heart clenches. He has apologized a million times and you have forgiven him … but he can’t seem to forgive himself. It all happened so quickly, yet it lingers in him. 
“Of course”, he says. “Scumbags need to be taken care of the right way. I kind of pitied the man. He must have been extremely stupid to let me know about him. Good that he was stupid though.”
Thinking about him makes him furious once more, but he reminds himself that it’s over. He has gotten his punishment … and Silas has saved people. Innocent people should never be punished for crimes they didn’t commit.
No one will ever see any those pictures again. No one will have to deal with that man ever again. 
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be4chywritez · 4 months ago
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sweet like honey | max verstappen
max verstappen x fem!reader
"you're to sweet for me."
Max doesn't like how nice you are towards him.
beachy’s masterlist🐚
prompt list
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Max isn't sure why he doesn’t like you. You’ve never wronged him, never talked bad about him, or been rude in any way. But for some odd reason, Max hates you.
Maybe it’s the Verstappen genes kicking in, that innate tendency to be an asshole. Or maybe it’s bred into him to keep sweet things like you at a distance. So, you can imagine his shock and horror when he sees you perched on the couch, flipping through a book in his friend’s Italian villa.
Your eyes meet his, and a smile graces your lips. You place the book in your lap, and he watches as your eyes brighten at the sight of him, the same way they might light up at the sight of a pretty flower.
Your small yellow sundress barely covers your upper thighs, and Max can’t help but stare before quickly looking down at his phone, not wanting to be too obvious about his boyish gawking.
“Max,” you say softly, your voice warm and rich like honey, drawing his attention whether he wants it or not.
He hears you, of course, but pretends to focus on his phone. His thumb moves slowly over the screen, though nothing he sees holds his interest. It’s the way you say his name that sticks in his mind, making it impossible to ignore.
“It’s nice to see you,” you continue, your tone sincere as if you mean it more than you should. You settle back into the cushions, your dress slipping a little higher on your thighs, and he catches himself glancing before looking away again.
Max lets out a quiet huff, his eyes still fixed on his phone, but his attention is all on you now. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, almost guarded.
You shift, crossing your legs under you, the air feeling warmer, closer. “A surprise, I guess,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips, the kind that lingers, soft and effortless.
Max clenches his jaw, forcing himself to look back at his phone. Still, he’s hyper-aware of your presence, of the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the room. He swallows hard, trying to steady himself, even as his chest tightens.
“Yeah,” he mutters, almost under his breath, like he’s afraid to say anything else, and you let the moment settle, content with the quiet between you.
Just then, his best friend Jamie stumbles in, holding a glass of chardonnay. “Maxie,” he coos, squishing Max’s cheeks together, making his lips pucker. Close behind comes your best friend, Mila—Jamie’s girlfriend.
A few others join the group, a mix of Jamie and Mila’s friends, and Max’s brow furrows as he realizes that they’re all couples. He internally groans, watching your eyes flit around like a lost puppy.
“Alright, everyone,” Mila announces with a clap of her hands, “time to head up. We’ve got a long day ahead tomorrow.”
One by one, the group starts dispersing, grabbing their things and heading upstairs. Max lingers, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, but he’s acutely aware of you standing up from the couch, smoothing down the hem of your dress.
You move with an easy grace, slipping past him with a soft, “Goodnight, Max.” There’s no sarcasm, no bite—just genuine kindness that he doesn’t understand. You flash him a small smile before heading toward the stairs.
Max’s jaw tightens as he watches you go. You’re far too calm, far too kind for his liking. It makes him uncomfortable, like you’re holding a mirror up to the way he behaves, forcing him to see the stark contrast between you.
He takes a deep breath, tucking his phone into his pocket, and follows behind the group. The villa is beautiful, the soft glow of the lights casting long shadows across the walls as everyone makes their way to their respective rooms. His room is at the far end of the hall, and as he reaches it, he notices you standing just outside the door next to his.
“Looks like we’re neighbors,” you say lightly, your voice warm and soft. You hold your toothbrush and a towel, your yellow sundress replaced by pale pink silky pajamas, and there’s something almost disarming about how comfortable you seem.
Max nods, his expression neutral. “Yeah.”
You don’t push the conversation, only smile again as you step into your room. “Sleep well, Max,” you say over your shoulder, as if you mean it.
He huffs quietly, more out of habit than frustration, and slips into his own room. The door closes with a soft click, and he leans back against it, rubbing a hand over his face.
For a moment, he stands there, in the silence of the room, staring at nothing in particular. He doesn’t know why your kindness unsettles him so much. It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong, but that’s exactly the problem. You’re too nice. Too understanding. And for some reason, it gets under his skin.
Max changes into a T-shirt and shorts, moving about the room on autopilot. He keeps hearing your voice, soft and sweet, lingering in his thoughts.
Finally, he pulls back the covers and slides into bed, trying to shut everything out. But it’s quiet now—too quiet. And even though you’re just on the other side of the wall, he can’t stop thinking about you.
In the middle of the night, he’s still awake, tossing and turning, when there’s a soft knock on his door. Max sits up, frowning slightly, wondering who it could be at this hour.
He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pads across the room, opening the door just a crack. It’s you, standing there, a little sheepish, your arms crossed lightly over your chest.
“Sorry,” you whisper, barely audible, “I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just… my room's really hot. I think the AC is broken.”
Max blinks, unsure of what to say at first. Part of him wants to tell you to deal with it yourself, but another part of him can’t ignore it.
His eyes linger on you more than he’d admit—your hair sticking to your neck from sweat, your cheeks flushed, and you nibble your lip nervously. Your tank top has ridden up, a sliver of your hip exposed, and Max does everything in his power to push those thoughts away.
“Uh… you could just crack open a window,” he suggests, his voice a bit rough from sleep. He knows the words sound hollow even to him. He doesn’t want you in his space, yet part of him doesn’t want you sweating alone either.
You fidget slightly, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I tried, but it didn’t help. I just thought… maybe I could crash in here?” The words hang in the air, hopeful yet tentative.
Max’s heart races at the idea. The prospect of sharing the bed makes his palms sweat. It’s one thing to be in the same room, but sharing a bed? He hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek as he weighs his options.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but there’s a hint of something deeper in his tone. The image of you curled up beside him—too close for comfort—sends a shiver down his spine.
“Yeah, no, you’re right,” you offer a nervous smile, clearly not wanting to invade his space, so you back away, ducking into your room. He watches you until the door is shut behind you.
Max stands in the doorway, his heart racing as he processes the moment. He’s not sure why he feels such a strong urge to call you back, to insist that it’s okay, but the words remain stuck in his throat. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling a mix of irritation and something else—something he’s not ready to name.
As he paces back to his bed, he tries to shake off the lingering image of you standing there, your flushed cheeks and nervous smile. He lies down again, staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you’re just a wall away.
A few moments pass before he hears a soft, muffled noise from your room—a sniffle, maybe? It makes his chest tighten at the thought of you crying because you're uncomfortable.
“Damn it,” he mutters to himself, tossing an arm over his eyes. He’s not going to sleep if he keeps thinking about you like this.
After what feels like an eternity of tossing and turning, he finally sits up, his decision made. He stands up, his heart pounding in his chest, and makes his way to your door. He raises his hand to knock but hesitates, uncertainty flooding in.
“Why the hell am I doing this?” he mutters, his self-doubt creeping back in. But the thought of you feeling uncomfortable alone is enough to push him through. He knocks softly, the sound barely more than a tap.
“Hey,” you call from inside, and he can hear the surprise in your voice. “Is everything okay?”
“Uh, yeah,” he replies, his voice worse than he intended. “I… just thought maybe you could come back. It’s probably not that hot here.”
There’s a brief silence, and he can imagine the look on your face—surprised and perhaps a little hopeful. “Really?” you ask, and he can’t help the slight smile tugging at his lips despite himself.
The door swings open, revealing you still in your silk-clad pajamas. He rips his gaze away, feeling a tightness in his throat. He doesn't utter a word, just turns around, walking to his room. He can hear your feet padding behind him, and you close the door behind the both of you.
Max keeps his back to you as you quietly follow him into the room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The air feels heavier now, thick with unspoken tension as you stand there in the dim light, waiting for him to say something. But Max doesn’t. Instead, he heads straight for the bed, pulling back the covers on one side, his movements stiff and a little too deliberate.
“You can take the right side,” he mutters, not looking at you, as he slides under the covers on the left. His heart is pounding, though he tries to act like everything is fine.
You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to thank him or just keep quiet. Deciding not to push it, you simply nod, even though he isn’t looking at you. You cross the room and slip into the bed beside him, careful not to make any sudden movements.
The mattress dips slightly under your weight, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he can feel the same tension thrumming between you that you do. The bed feels impossibly small now, the space between you a thin sliver of air that crackles with awkwardness.
You lie still, facing away from him, but you can feel his presence—so close and yet so distant. The sound of his steady breathing fills the room, and you wonder if he’s doing the same as you, staring at the ceiling, trying to will himself to sleep.
Minutes stretch on, and the silence between you is deafening. Every creak of the bed, every shift in the sheets seems louder in the stillness of the night. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts.
“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice so soft it barely breaks the silence. You don’t expect a reply, and for a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of your own breathing.
Then, finally, Max shifts slightly beside you. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles, his voice low and rough, but there’s something different in it now. Something that isn’t as cold as before.
You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Maybe he isn’t as indifferent as he wants you to think. You curl up a little more, trying to make yourself comfortable, even as the tension lingers in the air between you.
As the night drags on, you begin to drift in and out of sleep. The heat from the earlier part of the night is gone now, replaced by a cooler breeze that drifts in through the open window. The sheets are soft, and for the first time since you entered Max’s room, you start to relax.
Just as you’re on the edge of sleep, you feel something shift again. Max turns slightly, the mattress dipping as he moves closer—just barely, but enough for you to notice. His arm brushes against yours, and the warmth of his skin sends a small jolt through you.
You stay perfectly still, wondering if he did it on purpose or if he’s just restless. Either way, you don’t move, afraid to disturb the delicate balance between you.
Your mind races—what if you roll over onto him in your sleep? What if you start snoring?—and the nerves bubble up, spilling out before you can stop yourself.
“So… I haven’t slept in a guy’s bed in ages,” you blurt out, staring at the ceiling. Max barely reacts, his only acknowledgment a low, noncommittal “Mhm,” but it doesn’t stop you from talking.
“Yeah, it’s been, like… a long time. I’m more of a 'sleep with a thousand pillows' kind of person, you know? Gotta have the right setup.” You laugh a little, mostly to yourself, feeling the need to fill the quiet. Max doesn’t respond, but you keep going, too nervous to stop. “Oh, and I’m really bad with directions, like, I get lost in grocery stores. Once, I ended up in the freezer aisle for thirty minutes just trying to find the cereal.”
“Mhm.”
His replies are half-hearted at best, but you don’t mind. If anything, the sound of his quiet indifference weirdly helps soothe your nerves.
“Oh! And I can’t swim,” you say with a laugh, thinking it’s just another random fact to throw out there. But this time, Max’s head snaps toward you.
“You came to the amalfi coast, and you can’t swim?” he asks, his voice sharper than before, with a hint of amusement. His eyes narrow slightly, and you can’t help but grin.
“Yeah,” you reply, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Figured I’d just, you know… stay on the shore.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s stupid.”
“Maybe,” you say, laughing softly, your nerves easing a bit. “But I’m good at other things. Like… did you know I can recite the entire script of Finding Nemo? Well, mostly.”
Max rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Great skill.”
You keep talking, the words flowing easier now. Your voice fills the room, soft and rhythmic, and even though Max doesn’t say much, you can feel the tension in the air start to shift. His body relaxes slightly, the space between you feeling a little less awkward.
“And another thing, I’m a terrible cook. Burnt spaghetti once. Didn’t even think that was possible. It’s water and noodles, right?” You laugh again, and this time Max lets out a quiet huff—almost like a chuckle, though he’d never admit it.
Your voice is like a steady hum, lulling the room into a gentle calm. You talk about everything and nothing, the words spilling out in a quiet stream. Max listens, his responses becoming softer, almost inaudible, but it doesn’t matter. His breathing slows, his eyes fluttering shut as your voice washes over him.
You don’t notice when he finally drifts off, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. But somehow, you feel it—the way the energy in the room has shifted, his earlier sharpness melted away into something softer, more relaxed.
The next morning, sunlight spills through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You stir first, the warmth of the bed enveloping you, your body reluctant to wake. For a moment, you forget where you are, and then it hits you—Max’s bed, Max’s room. You blink your eyes open slowly, turning your head slightly to see him still there, asleep.
He’s lying on his back now, the sheets tangled around his waist, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. His face is serene, the harsh lines you’ve come to associate with him softened by sleep. His hair is slightly tousled, giving him an almost boyish look, something so different from the hard-edged man who usually glares at you.
You feel a strange flutter in your chest as you look at him, this version of Max—unguarded, vulnerable. It’s a side of him you never thought you’d see, and it’s almost too intimate, too close. You shift a little, trying not to make any noise, but the bed creaks softly under your weight.
Max stirs, his brows furrowing slightly as he slowly wakes up. His eyes open halfway, still hazy with sleep, and for a brief moment, he looks at you without the usual edge in his gaze. It’s like he’s forgotten for a second who you are, where he is.
Then, reality seems to settle back in, and his eyes narrow ever so slightly, though there’s no real malice there. Just a kind of gruff annoyance.
“Mornin’,” he mutters, his voice rough and low, thick with sleep.
“Good morning,” you reply softly, offering a tentative smile.
He shifts, pushing himself up on his elbows, the sheet falling further down his waist, revealing more of his toned torso. You can’t help but glance, quickly averting your eyes when you realize you’re staring.
Max runs a hand through his messy hair, yawning as he glances at you. “You talk a lot in your sleep too, or is that just when you’re awake?” he asks, a hint of that familiar sarcasm creeping back into his tone, though there’s no real bite behind it.
You chuckle lightly, relaxing a little. “Only when I’m awake, I promise.”
He grunts, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence between you less awkward than you would’ve expected. It’s almost… comfortable.
Max stretches, his muscles flexing slightly as he does, and you try not to let your eyes linger too long. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you’re grateful when he doesn’t seem to notice.
“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “how’d you sleep?”
He glances back at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he shrugs. “Fine, I guess.” There’s a pause, and then he adds, almost begrudgingly, “Didn’t mind all the talking.”
Your heart skips a beat at that, the small admission catching you off guard. You smile, warmth spreading through you. “Glad to know I didn’t annoy you too much.”
Max doesn’t respond, just grabs his phone from the nightstand and checks the time. But you catch the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips before he turns away.
He stands, pulling on a shirt and running a hand through his hair again before heading toward the door. “We’re leaving for breakfast soon,” he mutters. “Don’t take too long.”
He steps out before poking his head back in his face serious, “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he says gesturing a finger around towards you and him, right asshole Max is alive and well.
“Right.” you deflate, but none the less walk to your room. You notice the AC now works. 
The warmth of the Italian sun is already starting to filter in through your window as you slip into your pale yellow babydoll dress. The soft fabric feels light against your skin, perfect for the warm weather and the laid-back vibes of the villa.
When you finally make your way downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee and pastries fills the air, and you can hear the familiar hum of laughter and chatter. The villa’s terrace is bathed in sunlight, with everyone seated around the large outdoor table, enjoying breakfast. 
Max is already seated, of course, his usual stoic expression in place. He’s leaning back in his chair, sunglasses on, making it impossible to tell if he’s even noticed you. 
An array of colorful fruits and pastries litters the table, couples chatting and laughing as you offer everyone a warm smile while taking a seat next to Mila, who returns the gesture. “How was the room, darling?” she asks, taking a sip of her tea. You can feel a pair of laser beams on your face, as if Max is staring into your soul.
“Oh, it was truly nice,” you reply, feeling the tips of your ears heat up with nerves. Mila seems to buy it and turns to address the entire group.
“So, guys, today we’re going to take the yacht around,” she announces, eliciting a few excited hoots from your friends. Your stomach tightens at the thought of being stuck on a yacht, but you brush the anxiety aside.
As the chatter around the breakfast table grows, the knot in your stomach tightens at the mention of the yacht. You toy with the edge of your napkin, trying to suppress the wave of nerves that accompanies the idea of being out on the water, especially since you can’t swim.
Max, still leaning back in his chair, tilts his head slightly in your direction, as if he senses the unease radiating off you. His sunglasses shield his eyes, but you swear you can feel his gaze tracing over you. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and you can almost hear his voice echoing in your mind: “You came to the Amalfi Coast, and you can’t swim?”
You swallow hard, forcing a smile as you join in on the group's excitement, even though the thought of being surrounded by water sends a shiver down your spine. Mila stands, gathering everyone’s attention, and starts guiding the group toward the dock.
The villa’s outdoor space spills into a sprawling garden, leading to a private path that takes you to where the yacht is docked. The sunlight glints off the water, almost blinding in its brightness, as you walk with the others toward the sleek, luxurious yacht. Everyone seems thrilled—laughing and talking about the views they’ll see—while you stay quieter than usual, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves.
You tug at the sleeves of your oversized polo, the fabric bunching slightly in your grip as you focus on steadying your breath. The path to the dock feels longer than it actually is, the sounds of the group’s lively chatter fading into the background. You glance at the shimmering blue water ahead and bite the inside of your cheek.
Max lingers just a few steps behind, and you can feel the weight of his presence even without looking. His footsteps are slow and deliberate, as if he’s watching you closely, waiting for any sign of weakness. You try not to dwell on it, though the image of him smirking at your fear lingers in the back of your mind.
As the group finally boards the yacht, you become hyper-aware of the water surrounding you. The boat rocks gently as everyone gets settled, and you grip the railing tightly, trying to hide your discomfort. Max watches you for a moment before walking past you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours.
“Relax,” he mutters under his breath, not even looking at you, but there’s something almost reassuring in his tone. You exhale slowly, forcing yourself to take a seat with the others, letting the warmth of the sun and the sound of conversation distract you from the vast ocean around you.
As the yacht pulls away from the dock, you try to focus on the scenery. The Amalfi Coast is breathtaking—cliffs draped in greenery, colorful villas dotting the shoreline, and the ocean sparkling beneath the golden sunlight. Everyone around you laughs and soaks up the beauty of the day, but your hands remain clenched in your lap, your mind preoccupied with the endless expanse of water.
Despite your nervousness, you find yourself stealing glances at Max. He’s sitting at the back of the yacht, one arm draped casually over the side, sunglasses shielding his eyes as he stares out at the water. He looks so at ease, completely unaffected by the swaying of the boat or the openness of the sea.
The breeze picks up, ruffling your hair, and as you turn your attention back to the group, you feel the yacht slow down. Mila claps her hands, announcing that they’ve anchored near a beautiful cove, perfect for swimming.
Your stomach drops.
Everyone begins shedding layers, excitement buzzing through the group as they prepare to jump into the water. You stay seated, gripping the edge of your chair as they leap overboard, laughter echoing around you.
Max stands, pulling off his shirt and revealing the defined muscles of his back and shoulders. Your eyes linger for a moment longer than you intend. He catches your gaze just before he moves toward the edge of the yacht, that same smirk playing on his lips.
“You coming in?” he asks, his voice low, almost challenging.
You shake your head quickly, offering a small laugh. “No, I think I’ll just… stay here and enjoy the sun.”
Max arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying your excuse, but he doesn’t push it. He gives you one last look, his smirk still in place, before diving effortlessly into the water.
You watch as your friends giggle and enjoy themselves. Mila waves up at you, and you give her a fake salute. She giggles and goes back to swimming. A few minutes later, several members of the group come up to take a break, Max among them. You hate to admit it, but you watch the water droplets roll off him, his cheeks flushed from the sun, and a tight feeling blooms in your core as you force yourself to look away.
The group is lively, and at one point, Jamie, always the instigator, starts playfully shoving friends toward the edge of the boat, teasing and laughing. You stand at the back, watching, hoping to stay out of the chaos.
But in a moment of playful exuberance, Jamie swings his arm and accidentally nudges you forward. Time seems to slow as you lose your balance, and before you can even process what’s happening, you tumble over the side of the yacht. The water crashes around you, and as you hit the surface, the cold rush envelops you, sending panic gripping your chest. Instinctively, you kick your legs, but the water pulls you under, and you flail in confusion. The world above disappears, and the muffled sounds of laughter and splashing fade into silence.
Just as you start to lose hope, a strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back to the surface. You gasp for air, blinking the water from your eyes, and find yourself face-to-face with Max. His expression is intense, irritation etched on his features.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps, though his grip is steady and reassuring as he keeps you afloat.
You can’t help but laugh nervously, trying to shake off the fear. “I didn’t want to go in!” you manage to sputter, still clinging to him for dear life.
Max rolls his eyes, the frown returning, though it’s softer this time. “You need to stop thrashing around,” he says, his voice lower now.
As he helps you back onto the yacht, the warmth of the sun hits your damp skin once more. Laughter and cheers erupt from the group as they realize you’re okay, but Max’s presence is the only thing that matters to you in this moment. He doesn’t say anything; his expression remains unreadable as he sets you down.
You catch your breath, water dripping from your hair and running down your arms. “Thanks, Max,” you say, trying to brush off the embarrassment. His usual smirk is absent, and for a split second, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he cares.
But as soon as you’re on the boat, he steps back, leaving you with the others. “Try not to drown next time,” he says, his tone flat as he pulls his shirt back on, the fabric clinging to his damp skin. It feels more like a reflex than a genuine jab, but you let it slide, laughing it off. “I’ll try my best.”
He turns away, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. You shake your head, trying to focus on the laughter around you as Jamie and Mila check to make sure you’re okay. “Really, I’m fine,” you assure them, even as your heart races from the close call.
Just like that, everyone goes back to normal. Lunch is served, and as the yacht heads back to the dock under the fading light, you’re the first one off, eager to touch solid ground once more. You don’t bid anyone goodnight; you’re all too tired for that. You head upstairs to your room, closing the door behind you and shrugging off your damp polo and swimsuit. You hop in the shower, rinsing the salt water off your skin.
After your shower, the soft sound of knocking pulls you from your thoughts. You wrap yourself in a towel and open the door to find Mila standing there, concern etched across her features.
“Hey, just wanted to check on you,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scan your face, searching for any signs of distress. “That fall looked pretty rough.”
You chuckle softly, waving it off. “I’m fine, really. Just a little embarrassed.”
Mila raises an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “You sure it’s not because of Max? I saw the way he pulled you out of the water. It looked pretty… intimate.”
The mention of Max sends a warmth flooding through you, one that you quickly dismiss. “Oh, please. He was just being a jerk, as usual.”
She smirks, crossing her arms. “Or maybe he just likes the attention.”
“Yeah, right,” you scoff, but a small part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it. “He’s just… Max. You know how he is.”
Mila studies you for a moment, trying to read between the lines. “Well, just think about it. He’s not always the way he acts, you know?”
With that, she leaves, and you find yourself lost in thought, her words echoing in your mind. What if Max really did care?
Later that night, curiosity gets the better of you. You stand in front of Max’s door, your heart racing as you knock softly.
“Come in,” he calls, and you push the door open cautiously. He’s lounging on his bed, scrolling through his phone, and for a moment, you’re struck by how at home he looks.
“Hey,” you say, your voice soft. “I just wanted to thank you… for earlier.”
Max looks up, a flicker of something in his gaze before he masks it with indifference. “You mean for saving your ass?” he quips, his smirk returning. “Don’t mention it.”
You roll your eyes, stepping further into the room. “You know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care, you sure have a funny way of showing it.”
His expression shifts, annoyance flickering across his features. “What do you want me to do? Throw you a parade for not drowning?”
“Maybe just a little acknowledgment would be nice,” you counter, crossing your arms defensively.
He stands, taking a step closer, and the air between you crackles with tension. “I don’t like how sweet you are,” he says, his tone sharp. “It’s annoying.”
“Annoying?” you challenge, feeling a rush of defiance. “Is that really all you’ve got? Because it sounds like you’re just scared of someone actually caring.”
Max’s eyes darken, and for a moment, you think he might snap back. But instead, he steps even closer, invading your personal space. “You think you’re so great, don’t you? All sunshine and rainbows, but it doesn’t work with me.”
Before you can respond, he closes the distance, and suddenly, his lips are on yours—fervent and demanding. His warmth envelops you, slightly chapped against your own, igniting a spark that sends a thrill coursing through your entire body. You’re caught off guard at first, but your instincts take over, and you melt into the kiss, feeling his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer.
As the kiss deepens, you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He presses you against the door, his body firm and solid against yours, radiating heat that makes your pulse quicken. The kiss is intoxicating; every second stretches into eternity—his lips moving against yours in a dance that feels both wild and tender.
When you finally pull away, breathless, your heart races as you search his eyes. “Wait… Max—”
He leans in again, his breath mingling with yours, heavy with longing. “You taste sweet,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, a smirk tugging at his lips.
A rush of warmth floods your cheeks at his words. “Is that all you have to say?” you tease, a smile breaking through your fluster.
Max steps back slightly, his hands still resting on your hips as he watches you intently. “What do you want me to say? That I’m an asshole who can’t help but want you?”
The air between you buzzes with unspoken tension—a mix of frustration and attraction. You feel exhilarated yet confused, unable to ignore the thrill of being this close to him, the chemistry crackling like electricity.
“Maybe you could start by admitting you actually care,” you challenge softly, a playful glint in your eyes.
“Maybe,” he replies, a hint of seriousness in his tone before leaning in again, capturing your lips with his. This time, it’s even more intense; his hands grip your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he can’t get enough of you.
But as the moment stretches on, you pull back slightly, breathless. “Max—”
He leans in again, and you find yourself needing to physically stop him, your hands resting on his chest. “Wait, we can’t just—”
“Why not?” he presses, his voice low and needy, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”
You’re both panting, caught in an electric moment. “You’re infuriating, you know that?” you say, a smile creeping onto your lips despite the chaos swirling around you.
Max smirks, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, but you like it.” He crashes his lips against yours once more, and as he pulls away, he runs his tongue along his lower lip, a boyish smirk breaking through. “Sweet like honey,” he teases, prompting you to laugh and tilt your head back. Without thinking, you pull him down by his shirt collar, kissing him again, lost in the moment.
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annievrse · 3 months ago
Text
ship's seamstress
roronoa zoro x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: as the sunny's seamstress, it's your job to make new clothes for the crew. so what happens when it's zoro's turn for his measurements? w/c: 1.4k c/w: (very) suggestive, flirting a/n: its cuffing season soon, after all. this is pure thirst.
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"Alright! Zoro, it's your turn," Nami says, walking out of the stairs that lead under the ship.
Hiding his smug look, Zoro brushes past the navigator as he takes lazy steps down to your studio. The rest of the crew had their measurements taken for their new clothes, but Zoro stayed behind and insisted that he be the last one to do so.
The chatter of his crewmates fades to silence as the door closes, and he walks down the barren hallway, only the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. A familiar but restless feeling rises in his chest, one that can only be roused by you, and Zoro rubs at his sternum. He can hear you humming, something that only happens when you’re giddy, and the feeling in his chest grows tenfold.
Without knocking, the swordsman pushes the door open. Despite the red silks hanging from the curtain rod, the blue muslin draped on the hutch against the wall, and the chest of buttons that had spilled on the rug, Zoro's gaze zeros in on you like it always does.
You stand at your desk, your back to the door, different fabrics splayed over your workspace. Your hands move, calculating and purposefully as you pair colours and materials together.
"Don't think too hard about what to put me in," Zoro quips, shutting the door behind him. "I don't wear a shirt that much anyway."
The sound of his voice, paired with his words, warms your whole body. You turn around and lean against the desk, hands gripping the edge.
Tilting your head, your eyes scan his build. His thick biceps and broad chest make it hard to focus on the task at hand, and the look in his eye isn't helping either.
"Not sure my measuring tape will go the whole way around."
Zoro scoffs, dropping his head. "Were you like this with the rest of your clients today?"
"Only the annoying ones."
Rolling his eyes, Zoro steps before you, his knee slipping between your thighs. "You think everyone's annoying."
You shrug and reach behind you for the string. "Back up, big boy."
Poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, Zoro reaches behind his neck and pulls the back of his shirt over his head. You refrain from glancing at his happy trail for too long.
But Zoro notices everything about you and stretches his arms out with a raised eyebrow. "Well?"
You blink. "Well, what?"
"Will it fit?"
There's a mischievous glint in his eye that excites you. Clearing your throat, you sigh. You're both on thin ice with the crew waiting impatiently for their clothes; who knows when they'd barge into your studio to get their hands on their goods.
"Maybe if your boobs weren't so big..."
"They're pecs." His eyes flicker to your chest, and he runs his hand over his hair, his earrings clinking together as he tilts his head slightly.
Ignoring him, you run the string through your fist and stretch it out.
Standing this close to Zoro will never fail to make your head spin and your breath shorten. His usual musky man smell engulfs you, and you swallow the dryness in your throat. Wrapping your arms around his back, your chest presses against him, the feeling all too familiar.
Shoving the thought to the back of your mind proves more problematic than anticipated, but nonetheless, you catch the other end of the string with your right hand and circle it around to his sternum.
Much to your chagrin, the ends of the string barely meet.
You can practically hear the smirk on his lips.
"Do you still need me here? Or do you have all my measurements memorised, pretty girl?"
Scoffing, you let go of the string and step back, meeting his piercing gaze with your own. "Shut up and sit down."
Raising his hands in faux surrender, Zoro smiles. "Yes, ma'am."
Turning back to your desk, you quickly get to work. You won't give Zoro the satisfaction of saying you did, in fact, already have his measurements retained, but what can you say? You're good at your job. It's definitely not from the countless hours you spend admiring him, watching him hone himself into a weapon, or pressing yourself against him whenever the moment arises.
It's definitely, only because you're a trained seamstress.
You round your desk and sit in the chair, pulling the machine closer to you. Shaking your head softly, you rid your mind of flashes of his sweaty abdomen and thick thighs. He'd invited you to watch his previous workout, cocky bastard.
With shaky hands, you narrowly miss putting your thumb through the sewing machine — you should've sent him away before you started thinking of him like this. And with him not 5 feet away, you're sure he can see what you're thinking.
But unbeknownst to you, Zoro watches you from across the room, his skin hot and mind full of thoughts of you, you, you. He sees you swallow thickly, and he shifts in his chair, the creak jolting you from your daze.
"What?" Zoro asked, his eyebrows furrowed at your surprise.
"Nothing," You squeak, running the sleeve hem through your sewing machine. "Just forgot you were there."
"Forgot, huh?"
Rolling your eyes, you ignore his cocky expression.
Instead of pushing you further, Zoro gets comfortable, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed. His eye follows your hands as you work, and all he can think about is your fingers wrapped around—
"Zo?"
Blinking, Zoro's head snaps up, and he fears you can hear what he's thinking. "Yeah?"
His unusual demeanour confuses you, but you stand from your chair and walk toward him, a black garment in your hands.
Your hands—
Zoro clears his throat and sniffs, looking everywhere but your fingers.
"Try this on."
It's not a question but a demand, and Zoro can feel his cocky facade slipping as he stands, muscles rippling as he rolls his shoulders back.
You hand the shirt over to him gingerly, hands clammy. Zoro smiles softly and takes it, tongue darting to wet his lips.
Zoro doesn't inspect it before he puts it on—he already knows it'll fit perfectly. The fabric is soft on his skin, and it's the right amount of tight.
A black long-sleeve that hugs his narrow waist and broad chest, his veiny forearms and thick biceps.
You have to refrain from squealing at the sight of him, and he knows it, too.
Zoro hums in approval, turning to the small mirror you have by the hutch to look over the shirt. He smirks at you through the mirror and you shake your head, a giggle leaving your lips at what you know he'll do next.
And if you had a berry for every time Zoro had purposefully flexed in front of you, you'd have enough to pay his bounty. So, when the fabric stretches just right to accommodate the pressure of his flexed bicep, you physically swoon, and Zoro laughs a laugh only reserved for you.
You walk toward him and place your hands on his waist. "Do you like it?"
Zoro rests one hand on the back of your head and the other on your neck.
"Silly question, pretty," He presses his lips to your hairline. "Thank you."
You close your eyes and bask in his strong embrace. "I—"
A sharp rip, followed by a gasp and a deep laugh, draws you from your stupor. Maybe he had gotten bigger.
"Turn," a shocked laugh leaves your lips, and you inspect the damage with your other hand covering your mouth. Shocked because you're surprised it happened this quickly.
Your fingers trace his spine, fingertips probing the raw edges of the fabric. As you do so, you calculate how much extra fabric to leave on the new shirt so this doesn't happen again.
Zoro tries to look over his shoulder. "Well, shit, that sucks."
"Terribly," You sigh absentmindedly, feeling goosebumps arise on his skin. "I wasn't aiming to boost your ego this fast."
Scoffing, Zoro turns back around. The shirt sits loosely around his shoulders but still tightly on his arms, and you can barely take it anymore.
"Take your shirt off."
Zoro inhales sharply, his eye narrowing. "Keep talkin' like that, and we're gonna have problems."
"Oh, yeah?" You smile. "Would you like new pants too?"
The swordsman looks to the ceiling and mumbles something incoherent. He lowers his head, and you can feel your chest tighten at his fiery gaze. "You're gonna kill me."
Shrugging with a smile, you begin cutting more material, leaving just enough allowance to get the desired look without the possibility of the shirt ripping (not that you're complaining).
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ozzgin · 11 months ago
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Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader
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As much as you'd like to spend the rest of your life secluded away from the world, you need money. Conveniently enough, a new detective agency in town is hiring, and the salary is ridiculously good. The catch? Oh, you'll see once you sign the contract right...here. Congratulations! You've sealed a lifetime bond with their one and only employee, a demon from the depths of Hell!
Content: female reader, monster romance, dark humor, perverted goat demon yandere, based on ‘Yondemasuyo, Azazel-San’
[Part 2] [Monster masterlist]
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There’s still enough time to go back, you think. It’s loud and crowded and you’d rather be home. The temptation is beginning to creep its tendrils over your mind, so you quickly pull out your phone and check your bank account. The numbers remind you why you’re here in the first place: if you don’t get a job soon, you’ll run out of savings.
Come on, it can’t be that bad. In fact, it’s the best offer you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Minimal interaction with humans, short hours, and absurdly good pay. A new detective agency opened in your town and they’re looking for an assistant. A regular person would most likely be put off by such shady circumstances. There must be a catch, but you couldn’t care less either way. What are they going to do, kill you? Sell your organs on the black market? They’d spare you the time to plan your own demise.
You climb the stairs and knock on the door. A deep voice tells you to enter, and you sheepishly make your entrance. The office is rather small and somewhat cramped, with stacks of papers scattered over the floor. Behind the desk sits a man – maybe in his thirties? – with messy black hair, sunken eyes, and an irked expression. Is this the detective? He looks like an angry thug. Not that you’re one to judge, given your overall gloomy aura that deters passersby with ease.
“Yes?” he asks curtly, not even looking up from his book.
“I’m here for the job offer. The assistant role?”
“Ah, yeah. Completely forgot about that.” He rummages through his drawer and pulls out a sheet of paper, slapping it on the desk. “Here’s the details. Same as in the ad. Here’s where you sign. Do you have questions?”
“Hmm, I guess not.” You hum, indifferent, and scribble your name.
The man finally glances at you, faint intrigue on his face.
“This went unexpectedly smoothly. What if it was a scam?”
“Then what?” You stare him in the eye with a flaccid smile. “There’s nothing to take from me. If it is a scam indeed, you’ll be the one disappointed in the end.”
His eyes narrow in an eerie grin, and he stands up.
“Perfect match.”
“Excuse me?”
He walks towards a secondary room and waits for you to follow him. Once you’ve joined, he turns on the lights, and you immediately notice a strange seal painted on the floor: Geometric symbols resembling a pentagram, surrounded by words in a language you don’t understand. You’re carefully observing the strange sight, so entranced that you don’t sense the detective lifting your hand and casually piercing your finger with a small scalpel.
Before you can react to the sudden attack, he presses your hand onto the contract you’d signed earlier. You wince in pain and swiftly pull your hand away, glaring at the man.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you demand angrily.
“I thought I’d already introduce you to the main tool we use to solve our cases.”
The sigil on the ground begins to glow and the edges move in a circular motion. A black ooze erupts from the center, rapidly expanding outwards. You glue yourself to the wall for safety, unsure of what is happening.
A clawed hand emerges from the cursed muck, grabbing onto the edges for support. Within seconds, a creature crawls its way out. A humanoid figure with curled horns and long locks, its body ending with goat hooves instead of legs, stands up and stretches before your terrified self. You tighten your jaw in anticipation.
“You always summon me during my best naps, damn it!” the demon barks.
The detective approaches the monster, completely unconcerned, and slaps its horns nonchalantly, earning a groan from the demon.
“Skip the unnecessary whining. This is our new assistant and your owner as of now.” He explains, dangling the contract before the horned creature and pointing a finger in your direction.
“The fuck? You said you’d end the deal if I completed that mission. You lied to me, you-!” the beast finally notices your presence and abruptly stops. “Well then, what do we have here?”
A wide, perverted smile replaces his frown, sharp fangs glistening with malice.
“Aren’t you a miserable one! You reek of apathy”, the demon exclaims, clacking his hooves in your direction. “Boy oh boy, I could just eat you up! Tell me your name.”
You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. You wonder if this is some bizarre dream after all. The demon clamps your lips back shut.
“Tempting offer, but I don’t need head right now. Save the gesture for later, alright? Let’s try again: Name!”
Your brows furrow in disbelief at his crass insolence.
“I-it’s (Y/N).” you finally manage to blurt out.
He strokes your head lovingly, as if he’s praising some house pet.
“Good girl. You can call me Zzy.”
For a moment, you completely forgot about the detective being in the same room. He places the demon under a firm hold and shoves him away from you, then hands you a thick, leathered book.
“This is his grimoire. Read it once you’re home. First day is tomorrow unless you need more time.”
“Tomorrow is fine”, you answer in a daze, fumbling to find the exit and ignoring the horned monster waving at you enthusiastically.
You’re lying in bed, still a little shaken from the events you witnessed earlier today. A detective agency that uses a demon to solve matters, and you’ve just been coerced into selling your soul for a lifetime bond with him. You sigh in exhaustion. At least the pay is good, you tell yourself as you trace your fingers over the old text of the grimoire:
“Great President of Hell, ruling three legions of demons. Brings insanity or great sorrow to any person the conjurer wishes. Feeds on sadness and fear. Causes people to end their life.”
Hard to believe that depraved buffoon holds such power. Although it does explain, at least, why the detective was eager to use you as a replacement. Or why the demon showed such intense interest.
“Who’s a buffoon?”
The voice is so close that you feel its hot breath on your ear. You scream and jump back in panic, tumbling out of the bed and scrambling onto the floor. You rub your eyes just to make sure: the half-goat creature is lounging under your sheets, gazing at you with a bored expression.
“Christ! I thought you’re not allowed to leave the office?” you inquire, baffled.
“That’s why I snuck this in your pocket!” he says as he procures a small coin. “I can track down cursed items. Hehe~”
As if remembering a vital detail, he throws himself up and joins you on the ground:
“Oh, but don’t tell Mr. Detective about it, or he’ll feed me to the dogs. It’s our secret.” he pleads, hands put together in a praying gesture.
“What are you even doing here?”
“I figured it’d be useful if we got to know each other as soon as possible, seeing as we’ll be working together from now on.”
“And it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“Well…I also got really horny thinking of you and decided to just visit instead. How about a quick fuck?”
“Absolutely not. Eat a raw potato or something.”
“Don’t be like that! At least let me touch your boobs. Help a partner out, eh?”
Perhaps being scammed was not the worst-case scenario. You slap the demon’s groping fingers away and return to your previous spot in bed. It will be a long night.
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sincerelyneo · 3 months ago
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golden hour | l.mk
“i’ve got a really big problem…”
💿now playing: golden hour by mark
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❯ summary: Mark’s got a really big problem; you. The pretty neighbour that shares a bedroom wall with him. You’re a night owl and you’re so loud and are you…listening to his music whilst masturbating…? Fuck now he’s hard. Guess he’s got two really big problems.
❯ pairings: mark x fem!reader
❯ genre: neighbours, smut
❯ words: 2.3k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, masturbation, mark’s a loser for the plot, very explicit details of sexual fantasies, reader uses she/her pronouns and female gendered terms, literally just mark being horny whilst reader gets off to his song.
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Mark needs to move out. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take the old run-down building his apartment is located in having no working elevator. If you’d have told him two years ago when he signed his dream music contract with a real record label that he’d be climbing six flights of stairs after a long week of work he’d have called you a liar. But that’s what happens when people aren’t listening to your music. 
Maybe he's overreacting; the building isn’t that terrible. It has its perks—like the pretty view. And it’s usually quiet—well, it was until his lively new neighbor moved in. Mark might have thought of you as a perk when he first saw you, considering you’re exactly his type, so fucking beautiful. But you’re also so fucking loud.
You always seem to have something going on—plans, hobbies, parties, meetings, friends. Mark knows because the walls between you and him are thin, and you’re never quiet, never still. At first, he thought it was kind of cute, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realises he’s been so distracted by how attracted he is to you, he’s been letting your noisy lifestyle slide.
It’s not like he wants to knock on your door and ask you to keep it down; he’s too worried you’d think he’s some kind of loser. Even at twenty-five, he still craves female validation like he’s a high schooler—so he’s been putting up with the sleepless nights. Another reason why he needs to move asap. 
The lack of sleep, combined with the endless stairs, has left Mark drained this past month. He can practically hear his sofa calling his name, can taste the cold bottles of beer that sit in his fridge as he reaches the top step. He may be a tad out of breath and a little sweaty but he’s got the weekend off and that’s all he can think about. But unlike you, Mark’s life is boring. The most exciting thing about his weekend is the idea of not having to climb his complex’s stairs until Monday. 
Meh. He could dwell on the mundane schedule of his life for hours but he gets distracted. Distracted by his pretty little nightmare neighbour. 
You're all dressed up in a tight gold dress that clings to every inch of your body. Your hair falls down your back as you lock your door, tucking the keys into the tiny clutch hanging from your shoulder.
That’s when you notice him too.
“Oh, hey,” you greet him softly, offering a bright and friendly smile. 
Mark returns it, his chest swelling. There's no denying you’re a beautiful girl. And although he’s overheard your phone calls about parties through the thin walls, and the hum of your hair dryer as you get ready for nights out, he’s never actually seen you in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt. He’s never been given the opportunity to see you so dolled up, to notice the little love handles he can all of a sudden imagine himself gripping. He clears his throat and smiles wider.
“Hi Y/N…you look nice!” He compliments kindly, fingers fiddling with his own keys. 
Nice? 
The word replays in his mind. He’s spent endless nights thinking about how beautiful you are and now he’s finally got to feed his craving of seeing you in tight clothes but the only word he can muster up is nice? Oh he hates himself. 
But then he sees you blush at the comment, and he loves the way you purse your lips, trying to hide a shy smile. A part of him is annoyed that you’re blushing over something so simple—he thinks every man should be showering you with compliments, and you should expect more than nice. Still, there’s something about the way you squirm from his words that has his cock throbbing.
He wonders if it’s because you’re attracted to him too. It’s not completely out of the question. You know who he is, of course you do. You see each other in passing a lot but you’ve also spoken on the day you moved in. Mark remembers it like it was yesterday. 
He could hear you panting and cursing in the hall, hauling boxes up and down the stairs before he came out to help. You didn’t recognise him at first, not until he was in your apartment setting boxes down.
That’s when you turned to him with wide eyes and a breathy, “oh wow, aren’t you the dude that sang ‘Golden Hour’?”
Mark started blinking at you like a deer in the headlights. He’d never encountered a fan in person before, he had a small community online, but his music hadn’t exactly been taking off like he planned. So you can imagine his surprise when his new (extremely attractive) neighbour knew one of his songs. 
“Thank you,” your soft voice breaks him from his memory, and moves his focus. “Just a night out with the girls, been a long week,” you sigh. 
He wants to hear all about your long week, wants to be the one to make it better—maybe convince you to skip the girls’ night and spend it with him instead. But he doesn’t. He doesn't even let the thought linger for more than a moment before he’s nervously tapping his key against his thumb.
“Well have fun, and be safe,” he settles on tenderly. 
You nod with a small smile, giving a gentle wave before turning to leave. He watches you until you’ve rounded the corner, only then unlocking his door and kicking off his shoes with a sigh.
Mark grabs a bottle of beer from the kitchen, kicking the fridge door closed behind him. His entire apartment is dark and it reminds him of the loneliness he’s been feeling for the last six months. Mark never really thought about love and relationships before he met you. Sure, he likes to fool around as much as the next person, but he’s always been fine with being on his own. But you remind him of the lonely. 
He’s never longed for love and friendships but a secret part of him craves a woman by his side… craves the woman next door.
He wonders what it’d be like for you to be cuddled into his side as you watch a movie. Wonders if you’d laugh at certain parts and crane your neck up to pepper tender kisses to his soft lips. Mark squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, tries to rid the thoughts of you from his mind.
But it’s proven a little more difficult when he moves from the couch to take a shower and the water is running down his tense and naked body. He struggles to not think about you on your knees, touching his thick cock and kissing up his thighs.
He has to swallow back the lump in his throat and blinks away the urge to touch himself to the thought of you. He refuses to be that kind of guy. He’s not that kind of guy. So he gets out the shower and does the only thing he likes doing — music. 
Mark tries out new melodies on his guitar, humming broken lyrics and soft tunes he’ll be sure to show his producer on Monday. After a while he catches sight of the clock on the wall and it’s already a little past midnight. After locking his doors he’s crawling into bed and ready to sleep; but then he hears something. 
A soft giggle muffled from the wall behind his head. 
Mark’s fully aware the two of you share the same wall for your beds, rooms mirroring each other, but he’s never heard this kind of sweet giggle fall from your lips so late at night. He tries not to let the sound affect him, but there’s only one reason why a girl like you could be giggling at this hour after a night out. 
You’ve brought someone home? But Mark can’t hear a man’s voice, not even the slightest grunt or groan of male muttering. He can only hear soft giggling slipping from his favourite pair of lips.
And then he hears a robotic voice announcing that the Bluetooth is successfully connected and he knows he’s about to hear your fuck playlist. The thought sends a thrill through his body and he knows he’s unlikely going to get any sleep tonight.
He’s about to get up, to move to the sofa in the living room, to not be disrespectful and a perv by listening to you getting off, but he hears a familiar hammering of drums and a guitar muffled through the paper-thin walls and his eyes are bulging.
“Give me my A course, ice is so big like a glacier” 
You’re giggling again and he can hear your body fall against the sheets of the bed – the bed that’s very clearly pushed up against the same wall his is. It creaks under your weight, and Mark feels the wall tremble slightly as your bed frame knocks against his wall.
He’s tried so hard not to be that guy, but his hand finds its way in his boxers before he can fully comprehend what he’s doing. He’s rock fucking hard, red and veiny and he takes off his boxers, leaving him sprawled on his back, completely bare.
He hears your soft whimpers, can hear you hum in appreciation even over the buzzing of your vibrator and the thumping of his song. He doesn’t know what’s turning him on more; the fact that he can hear you getting off and moaning out, or that you’re listening to him while trying to cum. 
Either way, his hand is wrapped tight around his thick length, thumbing over his oozing tip. He thinks of how you must be, how you’d look completely whilst naked and sprawled out on the bed for him. Mark imagines himself on top of you, kissing your perky tits he loves to think about and wrapping his lips around your swollen nipples. His mind feels like it can taste you on his tongue, can feel your dainty fingers tugging at his hair as he laps you.
“Oh, shit,” you gasp loud enough for him to hear.  
It makes him imagine your eyes rolling back when he finally fucks himself inside your tight little cunt, he visions the look of ecstasy on your face when your jaw would become completely slack and your body quivers for him. He knows you’d feel him deep in your stomach. He knows he’d be so big for you. 
“Fuck,” he slips out in a desperate pant.
He’s completely breathless, tugging at his dick, spitting down on it to get it all wet for you. He knows you’re so much wetter on the other side of the damn wall, and that he’d rather be sinking into your wet pussy but his spit would have to do. 
He throws his head back in his pillow, eyes shut tight, allowing his mind to work over time. 
“Fuck, Mark… I need it.”
Everything feels surreal, like he’s in his own personal heaven with a touch of hell. You’re crying out for more, for him, begging for it deeper, harder, and he finds himself fucking into his fist just as desperately. Like his soft palm is your silky pussy.
Mark can’t focus on anything other than your sweet fucking cries that sound otherwordly against his song. It makes him think about how much he’d love to record your moans, use them in his next song. But then he’d never be able to release it — because they’re his to hear. 
It’s when the bridge starts that you really let yourself go, filthy fucking moans, the speed of the vibrator increasing, and God he wishes he could watch you right now. See you trembling and begging as the instrumental plays out loud and hard. 
He can’t handle it.
Gruff moans are slipping past his lips and he does nothing to try and conceal them. The muscles in his arm are burning but he fucks his cock harder, imaging what it’d be like to feel his balls slap against your ass as he pounds into you.
He can feel the coil tightening in his stomach, the way his cock starts to twitch. His imagination grows wild and filthy, every single fantasy he’s tried locking away to not be that guy now flooding his mind because you’re that girl. 
That girl that’s using his music to cum. That girl that wants to hear his voice as she gets off. That girl who’s doing it with no shame, no guilt. That girl that’s using him. 
The thought takes Mark’s mind to sinful places. “Take it,” he can hear himself seeth through gritted teeth. He imagines you begging for his cum, taking it like the good fucking girl you are.
“Ugh, fuuckk I’m cumming!” Mark cries out gruffly through strangled moans and he hears your screams follow.
Your bed is creaking louder than before and he knows your thighs have got to be trembling as you cum around your vibrator. Mark’s hand and thighs are covered in thick ribbons of white arousal and when his eyes flutter open, through his blotched vision, he imagines seeing you kneeling between his thighs and licking it up.
He’s completely fucked as he hears his song mellow out and you aren’t moaning anymore. Instead, he can hear  breathless little pants. He stays where he is for a second, eager to see what else he can hear. But there’s nothing — only complete and utter silence.
Mark doesn’t sleep the entire night. He can’t. He’s kept awake with the guilt of listening to his pretty neighbour. Or is it with the thrill of knowing it was his voice that got you off that's making him so restless? 
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luveline · 4 months ago
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Can you write where the reader walks into James room and he's crying and its the first time shes seen him cry so she comforts him pls xx
thank you for your request! fem, 1.2k
James’ house is a sanctuary to everyone he’s ever met. There are scratches on the wall by the door where Sirius has thrown it open, long deep welts of ruin under a drunken hand, two best friends laughing to the bedroom where they share a bed. You’re used to Sirius by now, an extension of James you love and make room for, but waking up to the heir of the most noble family in London sleeping off a hangover with his face buried in your boyfriend's shoulder still surprises you. His snores never change. 
Then there’s Remus, the sweetheart, tracking dirt into the living room because he so often forgets he’s wearing shoes, distracted by a book or a thought he shares in half smiles knowing James will listen. 
You’re everywhere. In photos like the rest of them, in your coat on the hook, your clean washing on the stairs, your shoes in the bedroom cupboard. There’s a red smudge of your lipstick on the wall at the top of the stairs where James wiped your bottom lip and then used the wall to hang over you, kissing. He keeps meaning to paint over it, you know. He says the same thing every time you bring it up, a laughing, “I’ll get to it, you thing!” 
You’re used to smiles and sounds here. You aren’t acquainted with this. Sniffles from the bedroom, long, stringing gulps of air and the answering sob. It makes your chest flip. James hasn’t cried in front of you in a year of dating and two years of knowing him. James doesn’t even get pissed off unless it’s for somebody else. Something awful must’ve happened. You rush to find out what. 
In the bedroom, James is just sitting there falling apart. Just, sat on the bed, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking like an awful jagged up and down, like he’s hurting; the shock of it is in every inch of movement. James is beautiful in everything, skin and hands and dark, dark hair, but he’s hurting now as he drags fingers wet with tears through frizzing curls. He must have heard you coming up but he can’t stop, lifting his chin, an apology twisted in his mouth that he doesn’t say aloud. 
“Lovely, what happened?” you ask, sure you’re gonna fall through the floor. “What happened? What–”
You aren’t giving him time to answer. You need to know. 
“No, it’s alright–”
“It’s not alright,” you say, standing in front of him with stiff arms. “What happened, James?” 
“It’s okay.” He cries a little, sniffs, looking up at you with swimming eyes. “It’s alright, I’m just– it’s just– well, it’s just everything, I suppose, but it’s…” He looks down, his mouth twisting again in an apology you don’t want to take. He shakes himself. 
“James, what’s everything?” 
“Silly stuff.” James takes your hand. Telling, that a boy who’s spent his entire life looking after the people he loves would attempt to comfort you with tears still hot on his cheeks. 
You look down at his long fingers. 
James plays piano. He learned your favourite song for you before he’d ever asked you out, and when he’d played it for you, he’d played so beautifully you felt sick for days, felt sick every time you thought of him, but in the moment he’d laughed at your teary eyes and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. Lovely girl, he’d said, laughing, I won’t play it again if you’re gonna cry like that.
You figure he must want comfort as he gives it, wrapping your arms around him to steer him toward a soft kiss, his hair like strands of satin under your lips. “Nothing that upsets you like this could ever be silly.” 
He pushes you away. Not without love, but pushing away regardless. He stands in the space you leave and wipes his cheeks with the backs of his hands. It’s nearly like he’s dancing. Just the way his arms move. But then he drops them and turns away from you, your heart plummeting to your stomach. 
“James.” 
“It’s not like that. I was hoping I’d be done before you got home. Should we go out for dinner or something?” 
“James–”
“What?” he asks, smiling, at odds with his sad eyes. “Love, it’s really fine, I’m fine.” Love. You let out a long breath, chest a cold ache slowly warmed by his gaze. There’s care for you in every eyelash, but it still shocks you when he hugs you. “It’s okay. Sorry I scared you.” 
James. “Fucking hell, Jamie, I’m not scared, I want you to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it for you.”
He chokes on breath. “I’m fine,” he says. He doesn’t believe it himself, a crack running straight through his words. “Sorry,” he says, sickly, kissing the top of your head as you’d kissed his. 
Clearly he’s not going to let you be the one domineering the situation, but that’s okay. He can kiss your head and hold you on the edge of too tight. You slip a hand under the edge of his T-shirt to stroke his back, until your hand is numb to it, and he’s sagging against you heavily. 
“You’re really not fine, I can see that much.” 
He’s quiet, but you can tell there’s something he wants to say. 
“But that’s okay,” you say, hand clasping his back . You pat a steady rhythm there as he sighs. “It really is. I don’t know why you think you have to be finished crying before I get home, but that’s not true. You can cry. You can cry buckets. Please don’t pretend you’re not upset because of me, I’d feel so bad.”
Something hot and wet touches your forehead. “M’sorry.” 
“Nothing to be sorry for.” You pull back to pat his cheek. 
James stares at you. Tears well in usually warm eyes and get caught in the wet hedge of his lashes. You try to wipe them away before they can fall —you don’t wanna see your sweetheart crying. 
“Don’t frown,” he says softly. 
“I’m trying not to. Here, let me,” —you wipe his cheeks with your sleeve, voice a muttering thing as his skin pinks beneath your touch— “just get that there for you. Your eyes are red, Jamie, I hope you haven’t been upset for too long.” 
“No, uh. No, not too long.” 
“Can you please tell me what’s wrong? I’d like to know.” 
James’ face presses to your neck in seconds. He pauses, and then he sobs. That’s more like it. You stand there in the bedroom until your legs are stiff, and then you only move to lay him down in bed to be your little spoon. “It's not fine,” you say, your arm around him, the other playing in the swirl of his parting, “but it will be. You’re really too handsome for all these tears.”
“You think I’m handsome?”
He sounds sweet when he’s trying to make you laugh. You reach over him to kiss his hot cheek.  
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inkdrinkerworld · 5 months ago
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“No more coffee, dove.” Remus takes the cup away from you and takes the mocha pot off the stove.
“But Remmy,” you whine and your boyfriend just levels you a look.
He pouts at you, all mocking and teasing which makes you want to stomp your foot. “No ‘But Remmy,’ you’ve had three. You’re cut off, my love.”
You can’t even be mad at him when he calls you nice things and gives you a kiss for your troubles.
Still you try. Then keys jingle in the door and your ability to get your way seems sparked up again, even if by a soft flame.
“Hi my darlings, I’m home.”
You give Remus a look that lets him know what you’re about to do and he resigns himself with watching you bewitch James like that’s your actual job.
“Hi Jamie! How was the gym?” Remus leans on the kitchen counter and watches you fawn over James to set you plan in motion.
“Good lovie. How was work? Were you trouble for our Remmy?”
You shake your head and Remus scoffs. James looks at him over your head and Remus only gives him a wink.
“I was super good! Was it arm day today?” Your hands slide up to his shoulders and then down to his wrists.
James chuckles, dimples popping out at he flexes. Your hands squeeze at his arms as he flexes and when James leans down for a kiss you really put the moves on him.
Your hands bury themselves in his still wet curls, tugging a little as you let James kiss into your mouth.
When you pull away, “Can you make me a fancy coffee, please baby?”
Remus rolls his eyes, “I just told you no, dove. You’ve had three.”
James looks down at you, a little smile on his face. “That true, angel?”
You scowl, “I really feel like I need a caffeine kick to get through the rest of my work. It won’t take long to wear off, either James. Swears.”
James doesn’t believe that part. The sun’s setting now and you really shouldn’t be having another cup of coffee.
He and Remus have spent many a night up with you while you all wait for the remnants of the caffeine leave you - not that they mind for themselves, they just don’t like you unable to sleep when it’s three in the morning and you’ve got to wake up at six.
You pout at him, holding onto his forearms as you stare at him with your best puppy dog eyes.
“Okay, let me go take a shower and I’ll fix you up one.”
You turn to Remus and stick your tongue out at him when James swats at your bum quickly making you hiss. “Oi!”
Remus only shakes his head as James passes you by to kiss Remus. “Jamie she really shouldn’t-“ James gives Remus another kiss, placating him completely.
For all his cheekiness, James had a subtle way of putting Remus at complete ease with just a kiss. “Be back in ten my loves.”
“You’re a brat.” Remus says playfully as James bounds the stairs and you give him a smug shrug as you sit at the table and start typing away at your work.
James comes back down and heads to the kitchen and starts making your drink. You hear all the wizzing and wowing of his fancy coffee routine and when he brings you a mug you look pleased as punch.
You take a sip and frown, looking up at James with betrayal all over your face.
“Decaf, Jamie?” It’s Remus’ turn to be smug, you dislike it on him entirely.
“Yes lovie. It’s too late for full caffeine and you’ll have been bouncing off the walls if I’d made one for you and wouldn’t have slept tonight.”
You just stare at him, James walks over to the table and kisses you. He can’t stand your pouty face. “I’ll make you a real fancy one in the morning before I head to practice, yeah?”
He pecks your lips when you don’t answer, and again when you hardly kiss back. James keeps at it until you giggle which is only three more kisses. He savors the kisses and your giggle.
“Yeah, Jamie.”
Remus comes to the table to meet you two, “What about my kisses?”
You pretend to think about it before kissing Remus lips, pecks following a sloppy trail all over his cheeks making him blush.
“Love you, Remmy.”
He smiles, turning your face so he can kiss your lips again. “I love you too, dove.”
James pouts, both you and Remus kiss his cheek before he can even ask.
“We love you Jamie. Loads and loads.”
He smiles, a megawatt spotlight really, and kisses you both back.
“What are you thinking of for tea? A chippy?” James asks, hand in Remus’ hair and on your cheek as you look down to your laptop and save your work.
There’s no point in trying to do any of it now that you’re all home. “Yeah, can I have cod this time? Didn’t fancy the haddock last time.”
Remus nods, “Anything you want, lovely girl.” James is already on the phone placing everyone’s orders, not forgetting everyone’s add-ons.
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connorsui · 3 months ago
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Luke & Kieran/ Sylus x wife! Reader || Imagine ||
"One last game!"
Note: not as polished as I would like but I did always imagined how these two would be like around their boss kid? -
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The evening was coming to a close, and the house, bathed in a soft, warm glow, looked like it had been hit by a miniature hurricane. Pink toys—plushies, blocks, glittery shoes—were scattered haphazardly across the living room floor, the remnants of what had once been an innocent evening of fun. Now, the peaceful warmth of the home had been overtaken by a growing sense of chaos as frantic footsteps reverberated through the hallways.
Luke and Kieran were in full-blown panic mode, tearing through the house. They tossed pillows, peeked under tables, and flung open every door, desperately searching for a toddler who had seemingly vanished without a trace.
“You can trust us with the kid, we said! Nothing bad will happen, we said!” Kieran muttered bitterly, lifting a cushion and glancing under the couch. “And now look! Thirty minutes of searching, and she’s gone! GONE!” His voice cracked as he threw the cushion across the room in frustration.
Luke, visibly rattled but trying to maintain some semblance of calm, walked over to Kieran. “Come on, she couldn’t have gotten that far, right? I mean, her legs are tiny! Point A to point B takes her forever.”
Kieran, still crouched on the floor, slowly rose and stared at Luke, incredulous. “Yeah, and you remember how fast she moved when she took Mephisto on that ‘plane ride’ with her plushies? Thought the bird was too slow to fly?”
Luke folded his arms, trying to look nonchalant but clearly feeling the pressure. “Okay, yeah. And your point?”
“My point is... the kid can run.”
“Oh, that’s just perfect,” Luke groaned dramatically, flopping onto the floor in complete defeat. “None of this would’ve happened if someone hadn’t suggested one ‘finaaaal’ game with the boss’s kid. One minute she’s here, and the next—POOF! Gone. With a trail of glitter.”
Kieran stared at Luke in disbelief. Even though they were both wearing masks, Luke could feel the heat of Kieran’s glare. “Wait—are you seriously blaming me for this?”
“Who else?”
Kieran threw his hands up. “Who else? Uh, who was it that thought party cans were a great ‘welcome back’ surprise for the boss and his wife, huh?”
“Well, it was either that or hide-and-seek, and you—”
Before Luke could finish his retort, they both froze. A burst of giggles echoed from upstairs, followed by the unmistakable click of a door locking. They stared at each other, wide-eyed.
“How… how did she get upstairs!?” Luke whispered in disbelief, his voice shaky.
Without a word, they both bolted toward the staircase, skidding to a halt at the sight of the baby gate, now hanging loosely by its hinges. It was tilted precariously, as if it had been outwitted by the most cunning toddler alive.
“Oh, she’s smart—” Luke began, but Kieran cut him off with a sharp smack to the back of his head.
“Focus!” Kieran growled, stepping forward. “Alright, kiddo, time to come out now!” His voice was firm but coaxing. But instead of the sound of obedient little feet, they were met with more giggling, playful and distant, echoing through the upstairs hallway.
Luke exchanged a glance with Kieran, who rolled his eyes as they both cautiously climbed the stairs. “This is going to be bad,” Luke muttered under his breath.
The upstairs hallway was dimly lit, the shadows stretching along the walls. Suddenly, Sylus' daughter peeked her head around the corner, her bright red eyes wide with mischief. The second she spotted them, she squealed with delight and darted away, disappearing around the bend.
“Oh, come on!” Kieran groaned, as they raced after her, rounding the corner just in time to see the door to the boss’s office wide open.
“There’s no way she’s in there...” Luke whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.
“How did she even get in here?” Kieran asked, just as confused.
They entered the office cautiously, careful not to disturb anything. The room was pristine, neatly organized—until they noticed a pair of tiny feet peeking out from beneath the desk. And there it was again: that unmistakable giggle.
Kieran’s eyes lit up with an idea. He motioned for Luke to come closer. “Alright, here’s the plan: you go left, I’ll take the right. We jump out, and give her a little scare.”
Luke grinned. “Perfect.”
They positioned themselves on either side of the desk, ready to strike. But before they could even make their move, Sylus' daughter popped out from beneath the desk, a wide grin plastered across her face.
“Surprise!” she shrieked, spraying them both with party cans they had been saving for later. Neon foam shot out, covering Luke and Kieran in a sticky mess of silly string as the toddler collapsed into giggles.
“Surprise! Surprise! I win! I win!” she chanted, hopping up and down with glee as she sprayed them again.
Luke, now covered head to toe in foam, looked over at Kieran, both of them utterly defeated, but unable to suppress a smile. Her excitement was contagious.
“Alright, that’s enough, kiddo,” Luke laughed, scooping her up as she squealed, still waving the can.
Kieran quickly snatched the can from her, shaking his head with a playful smirk. “Yeah, yeah. You win.”
Setting her down, they both attempted to question her about her little escapade, but all she did was giggle uncontrollably, covering her face with her tiny hands. “I didnt leeeaaveee I played!, I played and won” she squealed between bursts of laughter.
Before they could question her even further, the sound of footsteps behind them made them freeze. They slowly turned, only to see You and Sylus standing in the doorway, watching the scene unfold with amused expressions.
Silly string wasn’t just on Luke and Kieran—it was everywhere. The desk, the chair, the floor—nothing had escaped the carnage.
You pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to hide the laughter. “I - I ...take it you all had a great time?”
Luke and Kieran stood in stunned silence, caught red-handed in the chaos, while Sylus' daughter grinned proudly.
“Mommy! Mommy!” she cried, running towards you with open arms. “We had so much fun today! Mommy, look!”
You bent down, scooping her up with a warm smile, planting a kiss on her cheek. “I can see that, sweetheart.”
As Luke and Kieran stood there, still sticky and covered in foam, they glanced over at Sylus, who crossed his arms, looking every bit the stern boss. His eyes flicked over the mess, then back at the two men, who stood awkwardly under his gaze.
“Uh... we tried our best,” Luke muttered weakly, scratching the back of his head. “She’s... uh, faster than she looks.”
Kieran nodded, backing him up. “Yeah, I mean, we had a plan! But she outsmarted us.”
You stifled another laugh, turning to Sylus. “Go easy on them. They did try, after all.”
Sylus’ expression softened, though the hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “No promises,” he muttered, before walking past them into the office to inspect the damage.
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sturniqlo · 5 months ago
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KISS IN THE KITCHEN- MATT STURN
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summary: both Matt and Y/n find themselves in the kitchen at two in the morning alone. Blurb
cw: cursing, brothers best friend trope, suggestive material (no actual smut), almost getting caught
masterlist | join my taglist | part 2
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2:16 AM read the digital clock that was propped on Y/n's nightstand. She huffed and turned to the other side facing the wall. It was probably the tenth time she has turned to the opposite side trying to fall asleep. She shouldn't have drank that iced coffee before bed.
After turning around one more time, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed and her feet met the cold wooden floor. Y/n made her way, barefoot, to her door and opened it and a cold breeze made it way to her. "Holy fuck." She gasped, her brother must've moved the ac once more.
She felt her nipples harder up against her oversized tee. Making her way downstairs, the creaking of the stairs made her cringe, not wanting to wake anyone else up in the house. Through the dark, she made her way to the kitchen and opened up three fridge getting herself a water bottle, keeping the fridge open for a light source. "Hey." Someone said from behind her. "What the-" She yelped, spilling some water on her shirt. She turned around and sees Matt wearing a tank top and pajama pants hung low on his hips.
"Matt?" She whisper yelled. "Shit, my bad. Didn't mean to scare you." He chuckled, reaching in the fridge for a water of his own. "When did you get here?" Still at a whisper. "Around seven? Daniel texted if I wanted to spend the night." He opens his water bottle. Y/n got home at nine, probably why she didn't know he was here. "I didn't see your car when I got here."
"I had to park in the next block over, there was no parking and I didn't want to take your spot in the driveway." She hummed in response. "So, why are you awake at-" He looks at the stove. "Two twenty eight in the morning?"
"Cant sleep, I drank coffee earlier so I fucked up with that one." Y/n giggles. "You?" She takes another sip of her water. "Your brother snores like a middle aged man, I might crash on the couch." He walks between Y/n and the counter, putting his hand on her waist to get by.
She cant help but get goosebumps all over and clench between her thighs although it was a small gesture. Y/n leans against the counter and tries to shake all the dirty thoughts out of her head. "I just realized, we've never been alone together. Just us two." He walks back from throwing away his empty water bottle. "Really? I- I've never noticed." Y/n stutters.
"Really." He nods, walking up to stand in front of her, placing his hands on the counter, caging her in. "O- oh." Her heart starts beating fast. She's always found Matt attractive. Hot. Every name in the book. "Why're you nervous? Thought you always wanted this, I see how you look at me all the time." Matt grabs her jaw so she can look up at him. "Do you want me?" He says.
"Yes," She nods. "I want you." With that, Matt placing his lips on hers. They pull apart to see if they were okay with it. When nobody completely pulled away, Y/n kissed him again. The kiss was mix of tongue and teeth clashing. Messy, just how Y/n imagined it. "I've wanted this for so long." Matt pulls away to kiss down her jaw. "Fuck- me too." She gasps at Matt sucking on her neck.
She tugs on his hair and brings him back to her lips. If this was the only time she'd have Matt like this, she was going to make last. They could still taste the faintness of the minty toothpaste on each other. Matt brought his hands under her shirt and massaged his cold hands onto her warm waist while her arms came up around her neck, her hands slightly tugging on the hair on the nape of his neck.
His hands crept up her soft belly to underneath her breast. She gasped against his lips. Matt squeezed her tits and she whimpered when his thumb circled her nipples. Matt grew harder at the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. Wanting her shirt off, he brought his hands to the bottom of her shirt. "Can I?" He whispered against her swollen wet lips. "Please." She nodded.
When the shirt came above her breast, Matt was awed at her bare chest. As it was going to come off above her head, they heard the stairs creek and Y/n pulled her shirt back down as Matt was frozen. "Hey guys. Why are you two up?" Her brother enters the kitchen and sees Matt looking into the fridge. "I- uh I couldn't sleep and came to get water." Y/n awkwardly held up her unfinished water as she was breathing heavily, but her brother didn't notice as he was still half asleep.
"And I- you were snoring so I came to crash on the couch and found her- uh here." Matt scratched his neck. "I'll- I'll see you two tomorrow." Y/n said and left the kitchen leaving the two boys in the kitchen.
Back in her room, she sat on her bed in disbelief. Did that actually happen? Something that she's been wanting for so long just happened? Y/n could still feel the softness of his lip on her, his hands all over her body. Yet, she still had the ache in between her legs.
Ten minutes later, her phone buzzed on her nightstand. Picking it up, she saw a instagram dm from Matt.
matthew.sturniolo
keep your door unlocked
i'm going once daniel is asleep
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evilgwrl · 5 months ago
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TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)
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Immune: Two
WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)
CW: Suggestive themes, mention of rape, female masturbation, second hand embarrassment
Masterlist
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You looked at the dishes piled up in the sink, a wave of nausea hitting you. A part of you was glad, comforted by the idea of having humans around yet you couldn’t shake the substantial feeling of dread.
What if they killed you? Or raped you? Or both? What would happen to your body? Would you turn? Would you just decompose and hopefully move onto a better place? Your mind thumped against the thick walls of your skull before you felt a hand placed on your shoulder. A hand clamped your shoulder.
“You ‘lright?” Price said, a comforting smile adorned on his face before you shrugged his hand off.
“Just fine,” you reply, a tight smile on your face, “I’ll show you the bedrooms.” They followed you upstairs, the pounding of their boots against the floor giving you a headache. You led them to a bedroom, the subtle smell of dust lingering as you took in the unused space. There was a double bed, a mint green quilt with pink roses adorning it, two pillows both placed neatly on either side. “You can figure out who goes where,” you say, pushing the door open from across the hall.
You walk into the second guest room, a queen sized bed splat in the middle, a dark blue quilt tucked in, a row of grey pillows furnishing the top. “There’s a bathroom down the hall to the right. The plumbing still works somehow but don’t over-flush. You can have a shower but the water will be cold,” you say, attempting to sound intimidating as you avert your gaze.
“Thank you,” Price smiled, stepping inside the room.
Gaz and Soap offered you a squeeze on the shoulder quickly, a polite thank you leaving their mouth. Ghost however, sorted just stared at you, blinking slowly before turning towards the first room.
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You find yourself thinking as you brushed Cecil, his grey fur shedding quickly as you stroked his behind, whispering small praises towards the large animal.
What if you tell them to leave and they don’t? What if they take over your house and kick you out? What if-
You stop yourself, rubbing your head in your hands as you lead the horses back to the barn, preparing dinner for the other animals before locking the door securely. You finished up outside, ensuring the crops were well watered before heading up the porch steps and through the back door.
Gaz was sat on the couch, a book in his hands as he looked up. “I hope you don’t mind, found it on the shelf.”
You kept your face straight but nodded, “It’s fine.” Truth be told, it was as comforting to have people around, the same as it was fearful. You knew that if they tried anything, they would win, no matter what gun you hold.
Time seems to be going quicker as you prepare a salad with some grown vegetables with bread. You were glad that your father was a chef, always teaching you how to make things from scratch. You didn’t like to dwell, hoping that somehow your family were immune too. Maybe one day, you would see them again. Maybe.
You placed the loaf of dough inside a tray before lighting the woodburner and placing it inside. You hummed softly to yourself as you heard footsteps against the wooden stairs. “Feeding us again, bonnie?”
“Only if it’ll get you guys to leave me alone,” you reply, not bothering to look at him. You hear his tongue click softly as he shuffles over to you.
“Y’ need help?”
You lowered the knife, gesturing for him to take over as you step outside, sitting on the old porch chair as you tuck your legs up, arms holding them in place as you stare out, the hues of the sun disappearing as the night begins to consume it.
As night falls, you head inside, hands reaching into the burner to grab the bread as you let it cool. You looked at the large bowl of vegetables tossed together, the men gathered around the never-used dining table, chattering amongst each other.
You let them sit for a while before calling out. It was entertaining watching the four grown men subtly walk faster than the other to get a plate first. You cut the bread, steam gauging out of each slice before you sat down at the dining table, fingers nervously fiddling with the metal cutlery.
They sat down around you, looking at you occasionally as you ate. “Listen, we do appreciate-“ Price began before you cut him off.
“You’ve told me. You can stay for the night but you’re off tomorrow. I prefer living alone.”
Price nods as the others look down, the sound of lettuce and carrot crunching filling the awkward void. As they finished up, you locked the doors and shut the blinds, the gentle hum of the fire comforting you before you head upstairs.
Your eyes flicker between pages of a book as you nestle in bed. You were clad in a sheer nightgown, your usual pyjama set hanging to dry outside. Your eyebrows furrowed as you read. While cliche, for a while everything felt normal when absorbing yourself between lines of paper, like you were simply escaping reality.
A gentle knock sounded on your door as you looked up. Price stood there, gentle smile on his face as he asked to come in.
“What is it?” You answered.
“I know I’ve said it, but thank you. Even if it was just for a day, it’s helped us a lot. Not many people, especially a woman alone, would let four men into her home… not during a time like this.”
Your body tensed for a second before it relaxed. You let out a soft sigh, placing the book on the side as you stood up to look at him closer. There was no use in lying, he was very attractive. His stern looking face covered with a bushy beard and moustache, blue eyes staring intensely under thick brows. He was older, the evidence of faint wrinkles indented on his forehead, yet his body was still in shape.
You were never a prude, but also never pushed for unnecessary encounters with the opposite sex. You weren’t an ugly girl, your features working well together, especially when you weren’t scowling.
“I-“ you begin, trying to think of what to say, “I appreciate you saying that. You guys are the first… real people I’ve come across since this all began. I know how difficult it is. And I suppose it wasn’t bad to reencounter civilisation.”
Price lets out a shallow laugh, hand coming up to squeeze at your shoulder as he looks at you. You don’t shrug him away this time, allowing the grip to scold your skin with prickling heat. You didn’t speak, simply watching him back through hooded lashes.
You felt your nipples pebble, the cold air brushing through as you remembered the warmth of your bed. You watch his gaze flicker down to your chest, sucking in a silent breath before he looked back up at you.
Had it been 296 days for him too without a woman? Had it been 296 days for all of them without a woman?
You didn’t shy away from his gaze, heat spreading across your body as you felt the timid intimidation of a low throb in your pussy. You offered him a small smile before gripping the door. “Goodnight, John.”
“Night, love.”
You felt like a fucking teenager, with your gown bunched up at your waist, hands timorous as they softly rolled the sensitive bud in a circular motion, gentle pants spilling from your lips. Everything felt more real, more heightened, probably from the lack of touching down there for months.
Dipping your fingers into your slit, legs spread and needy, you could feel the antagonising slick tease your hole, pooling at the crevice of your ass. This wet over a random man? You should feel ashamed, should, but you don’t. The light sound of squelching lit your room as you plunged a desperate finger into your heat, a rough gasp leaving your throat as you lie back further.
You tease yourself, left hand reaching down to entertain your neglected clit as another finger braced your entrance. Did it always feel like this? Did my fingers always not feel like enough? Like they needed something more?
A wanton moan stained the room as you thrashed your head against the pillow, sticky fingers just reaching that gooey spot inside you, swift thrusts causing your eyes to roll back.
You felt like a virgin again, pussy barely able to take two fingers and minimal thrusts before the coil in your stomach began to form.
Would it be so bad to call him in? Soak his beard in your cunt? Feel what it’s like to take two fingers properly? Maybe more?
You felt like you had a balloon growing inside you, every swift movement expanding it more, ready to pop, ready to let your body release, ready to feel satisfi-
“F’cking hell-“
You looked at the sudden burst of sound, eyes darting over to your least favourite in the house, visible crinkles in his dirty mask. His eyes visibly darting to your heat, taking in your fingers stuffed inside, the slickness coating them.
You squealed, orgasm barely washing over you as you twitched, pulling your fingers out abruptly and straightening your nightgown.
“GET THE FUCK OUT!” You screeched, voice cracking as you wobbled to the door and slammed it shut, body leaning against it as you panted. You stilled, listening to hear his footsteps walk over but the comforting sound never came.
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junrenjun · 2 months ago
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after hours
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mark lee x fem!reader x lee donghyuck, frat au
genre: mainly smut tbh
wc: 3.8k
warnings: afab reader, mark and haechan are frat bros, weed (smoking, edibles), unprotected sex (have safe sex plz), threesome, highkey switch!mark and switch!reader i guess, kind of dom!haechan, pretty heavy member x member in this, teensy bit of orgasm denial
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The house is just as hot and sticky as you remember it to be. There’s people everywhere and you have to push around to get to the stairs. A pledge sits on the bottom step, eyes glued to his phone. He finally looks up when you approach. “You have to be with a brother to go upstairs, ma’am,” he drawls, boredom clear in his tone. 
“Ma’am? What am I? 30?” you ask him. “And I’m here literally every week.”
He responds without looking back up from his phone. “You still have to be with a brother to get upstairs.”
You’re starting to get impatient now. At this rate, the whole frat is aware of you and Mark’s “weekly weed time” as he calls it. Hell, half of them have participated at one point or another. “I am with a brother. I’m here to see Mark Lee, just like I do every Friday.” 
The pledge looks up at you again, exasperation clear on his face. “The brother has to be present. Like here with you right now.” You’re starting to miss Sungchan and Shotaro. They would never do this to you. 
“Well the brother I’m here to see is probably as high as balls in his room right now…” you say, trying your best to sneak past him. 
He puts an arm out and braces it against the wall to stop you. Your movements halt. “He still has to be here,” he informs you, annoyed. 
“Oh my god,” you raise your voice a bit. “Where is Taeyong?” you mumble to yourself, knowing the President himself would be able to get you out of this predicament. 
As you fish through your hoodie pocket to find your phone, a voice from the top of the stairs calls your name. There stands Lee Donghyuck, leaning casually over the railing, a solo cup in his hand and a smirk on his face. “What are you doing down there baby?” You shiver at the nickname. 
You shoot a pointed look toward the man on the last stair, who is now looking up toward the upperclassman. “I’m waiting for one of you fuckers to come find me, since your own pledge won’t let me upstairs.”
Donghyuck lets out a “tsk” sound, shaking his head at the younger boy. “C’mon man. She’s here every week, you should recognize her by now. And let her up, she’s with me.”
Surprisingly, the pledge doesn’t let you go right away. “She said she was here for Mark,” he informs his brother.
Donghyuck rolls his eyes, leisurely strolling down the stairs. Once he reaches the bottom, he pushes the pledge’s arm out of the way with his foot. “Well she’s here for me too. Right baby?” You nod. “Go tell Sungchan to take over stair duty tonight for you, since you can’t seem to do your job right.” The boy nods hurriedly and scurries off. 
He smirks down at you, hand reaching to wrap around your waist. Leading you up the stairs, his  fingers brush lightly against the bare skin that shows when your hoodie pulls up a bit. It sends electric shocks down your spine. “Tell Johnny that the next pledge task should be to brush up on the frequent flyers list,” you mumble to him.
He simply laughs in response. “I can do that.” Once you reach the top, his hand moves from your waist to the small of your back, leading you through the crowded hallway. Finally you reach a door that you have become all too familiar with lately. A green street sign reading “Lee Lane” stares back at you. You still have yet to hear the story of how they obtained it. They refuse to tell you. 
Donghyuck reaches out and opens the door for you, slightly bowing. “My lady,” he says in an awful recreation of a posh accent. You roll your eyes and step through the entryway. You’re immediately greeted by 5 familiar faces and a cloudy haze of smoke. 
Jeno and Jaemin are slouched over each other on the couch, a little too handsy for what should be considered just friends. Nothing atypical there. Chenle and Jisung are sitting at Donghyuck’s desk, the taller man attempting to play some sort of game while the other eggs him on. Mark is lounging on his bed, blunt in one hand, phone in the other. “Where’s Renjun?” you pout once you notice the blonde man’s absence. 
You feel a familiar hand wrap around your waist once again. “He’s got an essay due at 11:59,” Chenle responds, not looking up from where his eyes are glued to the monitor. 
“Damn,” you reply. “Really wanted one of his edibles tonight.” With that, Mark leans down, starting to rummage around in the drawer of his nightstand, passing the blunt to Jeno in the meantime. Once he finds what he’s looking for, he raises his head, a dopey smile on his face. He waves a little plastic bag around excitedly. 
All of a sudden, the smile drops from his face. His eyes are zeroed in on the hand circling your waist. “Hey!” he whines, grabbing Hyuck’s attention. “I thought I said no touching. She’s my weed partner not yours!” Mark and Donghyuck usually have no problem sharing you, so you suppose this little comment is meant to keep up appearances in front of their friends.
The hand reluctantly leaves your side and Donghyuck crosses the room to jump up onto his own bed. “She’s half the frat’s weed partner at this point, man!” He dramatically falls to his back, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. 
“True that!” Jaemin raises his head to shout from his spot on the couch. He looks…blasted to say the least. It’s clear his head is spinning from the sudden movement. After a moment, he just says, “woah” and tucks his head back into Jeno’s chest, who hums in delight. 
Mark captures your attention once again, patting the spot on the bed next to him. You jump up and join him. He offers the plastic bag to you, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Got this just for you.”
You reach for the bag excitedly, only for him to pull away from you cruelly at the last second. “Mark,” you pout at him, a frown on your face.
He simply laughs, leaning down to put his lips on the shell of your ear. “Gimme a kiss first, pretty girl.” You roll your eyes at his antics. A year ago, you would’ve choked on your own saliva hearing those words. Now, they’re like second nature to you. Leaning over the side of the bed, you pluck the blunt out of Jeno’s hand. The man in question hands it over easily, moving to pick Jaemin up and take him back to their own room. 
Turning back toward Mark, you take a hit, leaning close with your hands on his shoulders, and then exhale. He inhales the smoke, his own lips inches from yours. When he finishes the shotgun, he presses a small kiss to the side of your mouth. “Thanks baby,” he whispers. 
“Hey!” Hyuck calls out. When you turn, his eyes are locked on you and Mark. “Calling her baby is my thing!” 
A groan is heard from the opposite end of the room. “Can’t you three get a room?” Chenle asks exasperatedly. 
“We’re in our room,” Mark says in the most deadpan way he can muster. It’s not all that serious, the high leaving hints of that dopey smile on his face. It’s enough to work on Chenle though, because seconds later he’s turning the PC off and dragging Jisung out of the room by the collar of his shirt. 
As the door is shut once again, Donghyuck hops down from his bed, moving to lock it. “Finally some peace and quiet,” he mutters once he completes his task. You giggle a little at the statement. You’re not quite sure it truly qualifies as peace and quiet if you can still hear the loud music and voices from downstairs. 
The man moves once again, but this time approaches Mark’s bed, tossing himself dramatically on the end and taking the blunt out of your hand. While he occupies himself with getting even higher, you turn your attention to the man next to you. “Can I get that edible now, Markie?”
He must have been lost in thought, because your words seem to startle him. Finally, recognition sparks in his eyes once he realizes what you mean. “Oh, yeah,” he mutters, handing the plastic bag to you. 
You take it from him and unzip it, popping the gummy into your mouth. It’s strawberry flavored, one of your known favorites. You practically moan at the taste. “God, Renjun deserves some fucking head for this,” you say. 
Donghyuck snorts from his place at the end of the bed, eyes dazed but looking right at you. “Nah,” he shakes his head. “Mark deserves the head if anything. He practically got on his knees to beg Renjun to save one for you.” 
You look over at Mark to gauge his reaction. He has his head leaning back against the wall, eyes closed with his face tilted slightly toward the ceiling. His hand has drifted down to your thigh, fingertips running lightly over the bare skin where your shorts end. There’s no reaction evident on his face. It’s likely that he’s completely zoned out, unaware of the conversation taking place before him. 
“That can be negotiated,” you finally say, swinging one of your legs around so that you end up straddling his lap. The sudden movement pulls him from his daydream, his head dropping to look you in the eyes. You’re hovering slightly above him, not yet giving him the pleasure of your weight on top of him.
He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Whatcha doing pretty girl?” His hands move to rest lightly on top of your hips. 
You lower yourself a little bit more, your skin brushing against his sweatpants. “Hyuck said you deserve a reward for bringing me an edible,” you concede. “And I need something to entertain me until it kicks in.”
Mark simply hums in response, his eyes hazy but still somewhat focused on you. You hear shuffling at the end of the bed as Donghyuck moves to put out the blunt. You’re not surprised. Ever since you and Mark invited him to join your little Friday night shenanigans, he’s been keen to be in on the action. Eager to ramp the energy up, you lean in and press a long kiss to Mark’s lips. 
It’s sloppy, especially with the way he’s clearly feeling the effects of his smoke session. You pull back a bit, admiring the way your spit decorates his lips. His eyes look lazily up into yours and you smirk when they flutter close as you grind your hips down. “Fuck,” is all he manages to say as he throws his head back. 
You let yourself get lost in the movement, your own eyes finally closing. However, you’re startled when a pair of hands settle on your waist. Halting your movements, you turn to peek over your shoulder. Donghyuck has settled on his knees in between Mark’s spread legs, his head tipped dangerously close to your neck. The grip on your hips tightens and he whispers, breath tickling the back of your neck. “Don’t stop because of me, pretty.”
When you turn back around, Mark is watching you both, his eyes heavy with desire. His hands grip your thighs relentlessly as the bulge in his pants grows larger by the second. Remembering Hyuck’s words, you grind down on him once again. “Atta girl,” you hear from behind you, and it sends a rush of heat right down to your core. 
Donghyuck controls the pace with the hands on your hips, purposefully teasing both you and Mark. Your ass brushes back against Hyuck’s own erection every few strokes. Meanwhile, the man under you starts letting out breathy moans. The longer it goes on, the more you start to feel the effects of your edible. Your senses heighten and everything feels ten times more pleasurable than if you were sober. 
The hands on your waist start to move up, making quick work of removing your shirt. Donghyuck’s mouth meets the back of your neck as he removes your bra. Mark instantly groans as your chest is freed from the material. He doesn’t waste a second, sitting up as much as he can and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. 
Between him and Hyuck, who is now leaving marks on the junction of your neck, you are not going to last very long. You don’t have to worry though, because Mark suddenly plants a hand on your stomach, pushing himself away from you. You are thrown backwards, falling into Donghyuck’s chest. 
Confused, you look down at the man who is now leaning against the headboard, flushed and panting. “What’s wrong Mark?” you ask, your own voice a little breathless. 
“I…” the man stutters. “I was gonna cum,” he finally admits. 
“Aww,” Hyuck teases. “Was Markie gonna cum just from a little humping and sucking on some titties?” Mark’s face reddens immensely and he visibly swallows, but doesn’t respond. “I think he was…” Donghyuck teases again. “How about that pretty girl? You were gonna make him cum in his pants.”
You understand Mark’s embarrassment. Your own orgasm was not that far away. To be honest, you don’t even know how Donghyuck is coherent enough to be doing all this dirty talk. It seems that both you and Mark are a little too gone for your own good. In more ways than one. 
“So selfish,” Hyuck continues, sliding a hand past the waistband of your shorts. His fingers ghost lightly over the seat of your panties, the wetness spreading uncomfortably. “Leaving our girl all wet and unsatisfied because you can’t restrain yourself.” 
You’ve never seen Mark like this. The flush on his cheeks has spread down his neck and out to his ears. Pupils are blown wide, his chest heaving like he’s catching his breath. You can see his cock jump in pants at Donghyuck’s words. He even whines a little bit. Usually he’s more dominant than this, taking the lead but relinquishing control to Hyuck every once in a while. Tonight, it’s clear that’s not going to happen. You’re intrigued. 
The man behind you taps your clit a few times, drawing you from your thoughts. You breathe out hard. “You want this?” he questions teasingly. He moves his hand a circle, the friction so delicious you have to let out a moan in response. You hear him chuckle into your ear. “Then get naked. Mark too.” 
Mark’s eyes snap forward at the mention of his name. Quickly, he makes work of your shorts, pulling them and your panties down in one swipe. You kick them off onto the floor somewhere. Then, you lean down and yank his shirt over his head. The action tussles his hair, which now falls into his face messily. You don’t take the time to admire it though as you help Mark shimmy his sweatpants and boxers down. It’s awkward and takes a bit of time, but finally, his cock springs free. Your mouth waters at the sight. 
“Good girl,” you hear from behind you before you can move to touch it. Mark’s hips buck up into the air and he whines. “Oh did I forget someone?” Donghyuck teases. Mark nods relentlessly. “Good boy Markie,” he whispers. Yet again, his cock jumps. 
You turn your head over your shoulder, looking for your next instruction. Hyuck clearly wants to be dominant tonight, so you’ll indulge him for Mark’s sake. He must have removed his shirt while you were busy stripping, because you’re met with the sight of his bare chest. You follow his happy trail down to where he has his cock hanging loosely out of his pants. He quirks an eye at your ogling. “You getting eager, pretty?” he asks. You nod. 
“Okay,” he tells you, head raising to look at Mark. “Ride him,” he says, leaning back on his heels lazily. You follow his instructions wordlessly, straddling the boy in front of you once again. You line yourself up with him, preparing for the stretch. A finger running up your spine halts your motions and you shudder. “Uh uh. Face me,” he demands. You hear Mark choke up a bit at the thought. 
Hesitantly, you turn around, resuming your position. Your hands are planted on the bed next to the inside of Mark’s knees, Dongyuck sitting right in front of you. You go to sink down once again, but right before you do, Hyuck grabs your chin harshly and forces you to make eye contact. “Look at me while you fuck him.”
You gulp nervously, but continue to look into his eyes. Finally, you start to sit on Mark’s cock. The second his tip enters you, he’s moaning loudly. “Holy shit,” he breathes out. His hands grip your hips harshly, like he’s trying to ground himself. Meanwhile, you’re trying so hard to maintain eye contact with Donghyuck. The feeling of being stretched out makes you want to let your eyes roll to the back of your head. He looks back at you in amusement, like he’s getting off on both you and Mark’s struggle. 
“Keep going baby,” Hyuck tells you, leaving no room for argument. You resume your motions once more and Mark is no longer keeping his sounds at bay. The room fills with a cacophony of groans. As you continue your staring contest, you see Donghyuck’s hand move out of the corner of your eye. From what you can tell, he’s started to jerk himself off at the sight of you riding Mark. It takes everything in you to not look down. 
You raise yourself up and down continuously, the pace slow, but not torturous. Mark is clearly loving it, from the way you can hear his breathing pick up. “So good,” he slurs, grabbing a handful of your ass. 
“Yeah?” he teases, finally breaking eye contact with you to look back at Mark. “Tell our pretty girl how good she’s making you feel.” 
“So good, Y/N. Making me feel so good baby,” he says, voice cracking at the end of the sentence. You’re too preoccupied to really take his words to heart. You’ve taken the opportunity to let your gaze drift down to Donghyuck’s cock and the way he strokes it casually. There’s an obscene amount of pre-cum beading at the head, dripping down onto Mark’s sheets. You moan at the sight. 
You don’t realize that Hyuck has turned his attention back to you. Suddenly, his fingers are back on your chin, slowly tilting it up. “What did I say about eye contact?” You look up at him through your eyelashes. “Good girl,” he whispers, and you pussy throbs at the praise. Mark must feel it, because he lets out an especially loud groan. 
After a moment, Donghyuck shifts forward a bit, bringing himself closer to you. “Go faster,” he instructs, while his free hand snakes down to rub circles on your clit. You jolt at the feeling, but try your hardest to continue looking him in the eyes. “So sensitive,” he coos while you finally pick up your pace. Between Mark’s cock hitting your sweet spot and Hyuck’s hand brushing roughly against your clit, you feel the pit in your stomach rising. 
You’re not sure if your moans pick up or if Donghyuck just has a sixth sense for you approaching orgasm, but either way, he calls you out. “Gonna cum?” he asks, a sick smile spreading across his face. You nod eagerly. “What about you Markie?” A mumbled yes is heard from behind. 
“Mmm,” Hyuck hums. “Better tell her to get to work then, because neither of you are cumming until I’ve cum.” Your eyes flick down to his cock, and this time he doesn’t scold you for breaking eye contact. You reach out and wrap your hand around him. He shudders a little and sighs. Slowly, you begin pumping him, trying your best to find all the spots that make him tick. You flick your wrist aggressively, your thumb coming up to brush at his tip every few strokes. It’s got him going for sure, but not enough to send him over the edge.
At this point, you’re getting desperate. Mark clearly is too, because he’s egging you on pleadingly, like he’s dying to cum. “C’mon pretty, please get him off. Please.”
Finally, you run your thumb down the vein on the underside of his cock and his hips jerk. Then suddenly, he’s cumming, white spraying over your stomach, onto Mark's legs, and the sheets. You let him come down a bit, his chest heaving and his head thrown back carelessly. Once his eyes flutter open, you do your best to put a pleading look on your face. “Hyuck, please let us cum.” 
He nods wordlessly and you take it as a sign to pick up the pace once more. Mark gasps from behind you and you gasp in response as Donghyuck flicks your clit over and over. Moments later, you’re finally hitting the edge. “I’m cumming,” you announce breathlessly, leaning forward to let your head rest again Hyuck’s chest. 
The pulsations from your orgasm carry Mark to completion too, his cock twitching within your walls and painting them white. He lets out a guttural groan and you moan at the feeling of his cum inside you. As you come down, Hyuck has one hand on the back of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your hair. His other hand does the same thing on Mark’s lower thigh. 
He lets you both recover for a minute before speaking. “I may be high as fuck still, but we might want to sleep in my bed tonight,” he says, looking down to the spot on the sheets where some of Mark’s cum has dripped down to mix with his own. 
“Yeah,” Mark says groggily from behind you. “This is gross.” You tuck your head further into Donghyuck’s chest in embarrassment. 
Mark laughs at your actions. “Why so shy all of a sudden, pretty?” he mocks. 
“You have no room to talk Markie,” you tease back. Donghyuck’s chest rumbles as he laughs at your banter. 
“Okay,” Hyuck finally concedes, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you off Mark. You whine as you become empty, spend dripping out of you. “Let’s get cleaned up. Then we can cuddle,” he declares, carrying you to the attached bathroom. Mark’s footsteps follow behind you. You sigh in contentment, ready to relax with you two favorite boys.
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sourcherryandsprinkles · 7 months ago
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Is there a better place for a king to make an heir than on the iron throne? Aegon would be so into that 🥵🥵
I haven't posted a Aegon request in a moment! There is not enough of him on here
Warnings: 18+, smut, throne sex, p + v, dirty talk, unprotected sex
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
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You were sitting at your desk, responding to a message received by raven from your father when there was a knock on the door. Setting down your quill, you stood and went to the door, finding Criston Cole on the other side. 
‘’Your Grace. The King is requesting your presence in the great hall,’’ Ser Criston informed you, his new Hand of the King pin proudly displayed on the left side of his breastplate.
‘’Thank you, Ser Criston.’’ You gave him a nod of acknowledgment. 
The guards guarding the doors bowed their heads to their Queen and opened the door for you. Inside, the room was lit with a number of torches and seemed larger than usual. Mayhaps the absence of court attendees gave this illusion. Straight ahead of the doors, at the very end of the room, was the ugly heap of swords where sat the man you loved. Although, sitting wouldn’t be the word you would employ to describe the way Aegon was sitting. He was practically sprawled in the throne, his back slouched against one side, with one leg draped lazily over the armrest and the other hanging down. The Conqueror’s crown sat atop his white head, and you were surprised it had not fallen. 
You walked down the length of the hall, your footsteps echoed off the stone walls.
You paused a few steps from the throne. ‘’You’re going to cut yourself sitting like that, my darling,’’ you warned, mindful of the sharp swords used to make this throne. 
It was known to all of Westeros that whoever rested upon it must be careful not to make any sudden motions or else risked injury or even death. That very cut on King Viserys had been the trigger and downfall into his sickness. You didn’t want that to happen to your King husband.
Aegon shrugged, nonchalant as always. ‘’The throne doesn’t fear me.’’ His eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and defiance as you approached. 
‘’Just be careful,’’ you said softly. ‘’The Seven Kingdoms cannot lose their King so soon. I cannot lose you so soon.’’ 
‘’I am not as fragile as my father. I sit very comfortably here.’’ Aegon reached a hand out to you. ‘’Come.’’ 
You climbed the few stairs and he shifted, moving his feet to the ground to sit properly before pulling you down with him and sitting you down on his lap. Aegon’s hands found home on your thighs, covered by your dress, and began to run teasing circles over with his thumb. 
A few days ago, the Great Hall was filled with people as you were crowned King and Queen, but now you were all alone. 
‘’I’ve missed you at the small council meeting,’’ he said, his tone suddenly tender. ‘’Listening to everyone moaning about money, criminality in the city, and alliances for hours makes me want to take myself out. I would rather spend my morning riding Sunfyre or stay in bed with you. Speaking of bed.’’ Aegon brought his lips close to your ear and half whispered. ‘’Do you remember what I said on my coronation day?’’ 
He brushed your hair to one side so that it exposed your neck, and placed a number of kisses there, causing you to smile at his sweet touch. 
You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body through his clothes. ‘’That Rhaenyra would get burned to a crisp before sitting on your throne?’’ 
‘’Yes,’’ Aegon agreed with a soft chuckle, pressing a kiss over your shoulder. ‘’But that was not what I was meaning.’’ 
You took a moment to think, trying to remember every conversation you had on the day of his coronation. He had shared his fears as a new King as you were helping him get ready and the pressure his grandsire, Otto Hightower, was putting over him. Removing him as Hand of the King was one of the best decisions Aegon made.  
And then it hit you. A desire he had voiced to you in the secrecy of your bedchamber with nothing but his crown on his head. 
You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. ‘’Now?’’ 
Aegon grinned, and you felt yourself getting aroused at the thought of having him in the throne room — on the Iron Throne. It was probably blasphemy to the crown, but Aegon was the one wearing the crown. If he wants to have sex on the Iron Throne, he will. 
‘’There is no better place to create an heir than the throne he will one day sit on, is there?’’ he asked, one hand going up your torso to palm your still clothed breasts. ‘’I've been thinking about this since the Conqueror’s crown was put on my head.’’ 
‘’Your wish is my desire, my King,’’ you said, shifting so you were straddling him. Your new position was causing the skirt of your dress to bunch, but you ignored it. It was a matter of seconds before Aegon would push it up and get his hands between your legs. 
His eyes sparkled with lust at your words. This was exactly why Aegon picked you for wife and not the sweet daughter of a Lord his mother wanted him to. You were just as twisted as him in your fantasies. He loved how willing and eager you were to please him, to do crazy things with him, it fueled his desire even more. 
You crashed your soft lips against Aegon’s, his hands on your body tightening as he felt desire spread through his blood. It always surprised you how quickly he could get hard. He plunged his tongue into your mouth and fiddled with the laces of your dress, blindly figuring out how to loosen them and free your breasts. Taking all of your clothes off would be too time consuming, but he couldn’t have sex without having his hands on your breasts. That was simply not a possibility. 
Aegon broke the kiss briefly to speak. ‘’I need to touch you,’’ he groaned, pulling harder at the laces of your dress. 
You reached behind your back to help him out, and pulled the bodice of your dress down your body, revealing your naked breasts to him. Aegon's eyes devoured you, his gaze flickering over every inch of your skin. His thumb brushed over one of your pebbled peaks before pinching it, making you hiss. 
Aegon's eyes flicked up to meet yours as you scolded him, but his smirk only grew wider. He did it again, harder this time, before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, tending to your sensitive bud. A soft moan slipped from your lips as your fingers threaded through Aegon's hair, tugging lightly as he sucked and nibbled on your nipple. Each touch sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core. He growled softly as he felt your body respond to him. His free hand squeezed your other breast, kneading it roughly as his tongue flicked over your hardened peak.
You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him. ‘’Aegon,’’ you breathed, your voice a mix of need and impatience. 
His hand left your breast, trailing down your body, over the curve of your waist and hip, and finally slipping under the skirt of your dress. His fingers found your wet cunt, and he groaned against your skin. 
‘’Always ready for me,’’ he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers teased your folds, dipping inside just enough to make you gasp, but not enough to satisfy your growing need. ‘’Always so responsive.’’ 
You bucked your hips against his hand, wordlessly begging for more. It’s not been a full day since you last had sex, but your body was craving Aegon. 
Beneath you, you could feel him through his breeches, his cock hard and begging to be let out of its confine. You reached between your bodies, working on undoing the ties of his breeches, the sound of fabric shifting barely heard over the rapid beat of your heart. His cock sprung out, long and thick for you and you wasted no time directing it between your legs, needing him. 
You wrapped your hand around him, guiding his weeping tip towards your entrance. He lifted your skirts and grabbed your hips, lifting you slightly to help position himself. When his cock brushed against your entrance, and you both moaned at the contact. You sank down on him with one smooth motion, his cock stretching you and filling you up completely. The sensation was delightful. 
A sigh of pleasure left your pink lips as you lifted yourself nearly off of his cock before slamming down again. Aegon’s grip on your hips tightened, pressing you flush against his so your soft breasts were squished against his chest. He attached his mouth under your jaw, kissing and nibbling as you bounced on him.
Your movements were fervent, each rise and fall on Aegon's cock sending waves of pleasure through you both. 
‘’You like that, uh? Fucking yourself on your King’s cock,’’ he asked.
You grabbed Aegon’s shoulders for support, going faster. ‘’Yes,’’ you breathed, your breasts bouncing from your movement. 
The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin against skin, and echoing outside the halls. Being quiet was not something you had mastered yet. 
Feeling your legs starting to hurt from the pressing into the steel of the throne, Aegon reached under your dress to grab at your ass, fingers digging into your flesh, guiding you as he pounded into you. He reached deeper than you did by yourself, making you throw your head back with a cry. 
‘’Ah, yes! Oh Gods—’’ Your voice bounced off the walls, causing a flush tint to appear on the faces of the guards standing outside, hearing the echoes of your moans and groans. 
Your cunt tightened around him, Aegon’s name leaving your lips over and over again as his cock slammed into you. Your thighs trembled as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. 
‘’I'm so close,’’ you informed your lover, feeling the coil of pleasure tightening in your core. 
‘’Then come for me.’’ 
His mouth crashed on yours as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles, pushing you closer to the edge. You moaned, your walls tightening around his cock, heightening the sensation as he continued to pound into you. The combination of your moans and the feel of your body milking him drove Aegon over the edge. With a deep groan, he released inside you, his warm seed filling you completely as your walls clenched around him, drawing out both of your climaxes.
Aegon’s head dropped on your collarbones as his body stilled, his crown falling from his head and clattering on the floor beside the throne. He laughed against your skin.
‘’You think this was enough to secure an heir, or do we need to schedule another round?’’ you asked, running a hand through his hair.
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