#i did get some silly tags on it that made me laugh

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Scrolled through my blog extra fast bc i was looking for some refs (for gerome) and completely forgot i drew human 🍕head; i cannot believe that white man actually jumpscared me 😭

[vaggieslefteye]

CHARLIE MAGNE from HAZBIN HOTEL (2019): Pilot - "That's Entertainment" ↳ "So, I've been thinking: Isn't there a more humane way to hinder overpopulation here in Hell? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through... redemption?"

[clover-the-awesomest]

how DARE you make Mikey just like my uncle! This is BLASPHEMY I say! B L A S P H E M Y!!!!

Part 18!

I think we can start a compilation of Mikey squeezing cheeks haha

Part 1

[finniestoncrane]

Virginal vault dweller reader you say?? I'd eat that up (and so would Cooper, heh) but seriously I would read the hell out of that if you're up for it <3

Different Up Here

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 6.3k anon thank you lmao i had already started drafting this, so vault dweller reader isn't quite a virgin but they are definitely inexperienced and have never known pleasure like the kind that cooper can offer 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: power imbalance, dubious consent because once you've said yes to cooper you can't change your mind, overstimulation, crying, oral sex, fingering, instructional, full penetration babiessss i realised i never tag that shit but yeah it's in here lmao, cumming inside, no protection, sweet coop afterwards but only briefly

If anyone else had asked you in that moment how you were, you couldn't have answered accurately without any hint of sarcasm and irritation. You were being worn down, like buildings by the sands of the desert. Each little molecule of your optimism being torn away from you, painful like plucking a hair. But when Cooper asked you, you tried your best to push down your knee jerk response.

"Let's see, shall we? Since leaving the vault a month ago, bravely in search of resources and supplies for my friends, I have killed, maimed, and eaten things I hope to never think of again. I'm in a constant cycle of very, very stressed and then very, very bored where there is no happy medium between fearing for my life and wishing for death. And oh, by the way, I'm sweating buckets the whole time because it's deathly fucking warm. Thank you for asking, Cooper!"

Instead, you shrugged and offered him at least a partial truth.

"It sounds silly... but I'm kind of bored."

A dry chuckle passed over Cooper's lips.

"Heh, that's a new one for out here."

Sensing an opportunity to at least get some conversation out of him, you sat up on the rusty bed frame, your body sinking into the almost entirely flattened mattress as you crossed your legs and did your best to get Cooper to talk more than a sentence at a time.

"Really? I would have thought you'd be bored a lot, especially when there's no raiders, or mirelurks, or scavengers, or feral ghouls, or super mutants, or roving gangs of-"

"See, this is why I'm never bored. Always somethin' or someone to be killin'."

"But what about like... now? When there's nothing else to do. There's no magazines, no books, no TV."

You watched as Cooper turned from you with a slight smile. You knew the one, the familiar grin that meant you'd divulged some information about your life in the vaults, something he always found so amusing. It was your naivety, your optimism. He was endlessly fascinated by it, as though listening to you talk about it reminded him of something he had before.

That fascinated you. It made you want to stay around him, the way he listened silently as you talked about the old films that were on the holotapes, the food that was still fresh and available, the music you could hear whenever you wanted to, not reliant on some two-bit radio host. He paid attention to you. And any time his deep, brown eyes focused on your lips it made your heart flutter in an admittedly unexpected manner.

Remembering that feeling, you tried again, hoping that your next approach might be something that interested him a little more than just conversation.

"You know how we used to pass time in the vaults?"

Over the sound of the evening breezes that whipped up the sand you could still hear Cooper sigh before he spoke.

"Now if you tell me that you wanna go out there again tonight to find an old blast radius board... well I am just going to have to shoot you."

You laughed at what you hoped was a joke and waved him off, despite the fact that he was still turned away from you, unable to see your gesture as he tried ignoring you in what you assumed was the hope that you might shut up and leave him alone.

"No, no no no no no. Just..."

The lump in your throat felt like it was about to choke you, so you swallowed the clump of nerves quietly, your voice trembling as you finished your sentence.

"... fooling around... y'know?"

Cooper turned to face you. You had piqued his interest, and you couldn't help but show the giddy glee on your face, the smallest smile crossing your lips as your eyes widened. But his words wiped away all hope that you had garnered in that short span of time.

"Oh... oh darlin'."

He laughed a little, each little sound of the short, sharp giggle like a slap to the face.

"I don't think you're ready for that at all."

You raised an eyebrow, defiant, irritated, and keen to know how he thought he had you pegged so quickly. You'd never talked about anything like that with him before. Was he assuming that you were a virgin based on how you behaved around him alone? Maybe he figured that the lack of flirting on your part was down to a complete lack of experience, when in reality, it was because every flirtatious quip he threw your way made you so nervous and flustered you felt like you might throw up.

"How come I'm not ready? I mean, I've... I've done stuff... I've done it!"

"The fat you're not saying it how it is makes me think that you are absolut-"

"I've had sex, Cooper. I've fucked before. I've been fucked."

Blinking off the irritation at being interrupted by you, Cooper pushed up the brim of his hat and stared directly at you, as though he was examining your, to see if you would stand up for yourself any further.

"By who? One of your little buddies underground? Fucking like little bunnies? I don't think that qualifies you, sweetheart."

"Why? Sex is sex..."

You said it with such confidence. As if you really knew. As if you hadn't spent your teenage years practising on your hand, holding a pillow close, lining up for that one girl in the vault who would sell practice kisses for extra bubble-gum. You'd had sex before, of course. You weren't a liar. Just because you'd only ever done it once didn't render it nonfactual. Just because it had only lasted for all of four minutes. Just because you weren't sure you even orgasmed, and your friend had told you that you'd know if you'd orgasmed. Just because it was all over so quickly, and he'd run off before anyone could catch you both, avoiding you at every opportunity after that.

"... Isn't it?"

"Oh no it ain't. Besides, like I keep telling you, it's different up here. Everything's different up here. And that includes fuckin'."

The way he said the word, consonants enunciated with such grit and vigour, filled your stomach with knots that began to tighten as you considered in what way things were so different.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Cooper sighed, exasperated, resigning himself to the fact that you were going to keep talking to him regardless of his short replies and attempts to end the conversation.

"You are a dog with a bone, huh? Ain't gonna let it go."

His yellowed teeth were exposed as his lips pulled back in a baring, mischievous smile. Those knots doubled, the ends being pulled by tension in your nervous system as Cooper's smirk put you into a dazed stupor.

"No, sir."

"Now, I don't remember signing on to be your personal tutor in all things apocalypse. Do I really need to show you how everything works up here?"

As your cheeks began to blush, you nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, sir."

You were hopeful for just a bit of a distraction. Something to help take the stress away. To relieve the tension that had been building up between you and Cooper as of late. You'd been studying him, watching the way he looked at you, fascinated by your perceived, and frankly obvious, innocence. The way his fingers moved, contributing to the skilful way he handled his gun and his ropes. The confidence, the charisma, the charms.

You wanted him, but you weren't quite sure how to broach the situation without it seeming desperate. But you were past that now. You were desperate For anything, just something. Something to cure the monotony of walking and hiding and fighting and surviving. You didn't want to just survive. You wanted to at least find a semblance of fun and pleasure in this nightmare you had found yourself in. And in the vaults, when board games and books and debates got boring, there was always fucking. That was what you desired most right now. The fact that Cooper happened to be the closest target for your desires was just a sweet miracle, or a cruel tease depending on how willing he was.

And luckily, he seemed agreeable.

"Well then, how about you come over here and let ol' Coop show you a little thing or two about how dirty you can really get up here in the mean, dusty Wasteland, hm?"

Your excitement was palpable, even though you were trying to keep your composure. There was no escaping the echo of the giddy squeal you let out as you jumped up from the bed and made your way over to Cooper. He waited in the far corner of the room, setting himself down on an old armchair as you stepped towards him, slapping his thighs as an indication of where he wanted you. And you did as you were told, following his instructions, knowing they hadn't led you astray so far in your time together.

It felt awkward at first, being so close to him. You shifted your weight nervously, trying to get comfortable while making sure Cooper was still at ease, which of course, he was. He always was. Nothing stirred him, he was forever at peace. Competent in any situation. Quick to adapt. And as you fidgeted and fussed, you felt his strong hands pushing you forward on his lap, until your chests were practically pressed together, his hands skirting over your lower back as he held you still. In command. In control. The sudden sensation of his hands on your body made your breath hitch, a soft, surprised squeal on the inhale that had Cooper raising his brow at you.

"Now... you agree that you asked for this, alright? Because I am not going to put my effort into entertaining your little whims if you're gonna get fussy and decide it's too much for you. I did warn you."

"Yes, you did, and I really don't think you needed to. I doubt there's too much different about it, and I've picked up what I needed to know pretty quickly from your other lessons, haven't I?"

Your retaliation to his insistence that you needed him to teach you everything, and that some things just might prove themselves a little too hard even for your levels of enthusiasm, had irritated him when he'd first met you. But now your optimism and sheer refusal to believe anything was too much for you were a source of entertainment for him. A challenge.

"That's fine then, darlin'. But I'll remember that."

His eyes bore into your soul, keeping your focus on him as he dared you to look away. They sparkled as he ran his tongue over his lips, the pretence of preparing for his next words covering the obvious flirtation in the way he dragged the flat muscle along his chapped skin.

"So, gimme a benchmark here, lil lady. How much foreplay was involved in your previous encounters? I'd hate to leave you high and dry."

"Foreplay...? What... uh, what is that?"

Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes before closing his eyelids over gently.

"Well, it's something like this."

He pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, rough fingers following the curve and grazing over your neck as he let them drift down the front of your chest, tickling the exposed skin as far as your jumpsuit would allow before he took a hold of the zip at the front. A quick flit of his eyes up to you seemed to ask for permission, and your small, almost imperceptible nod, told him to keep going.

Slowly, painfully so, he pulled the zip down, watching as the centre of your torso was slowly revealed to him. Smooth skin, in comparison to his anyway, clear of any unnatural blemishes or war wounds. One calloused digit followed down your sternum to your stomach and back up, hooking under the left side of the fabric and pulling it over, then the other, exposing the top half of your body to him.

Cooper traced his fingertips over the top of your breasts, watching as your chest moved in and out, slowly, but exaggeratedly. The knots in your stomach felt like they might burst with the tension as his sharp, ragged nails crossed over your hardening nipples, a gentle tingle coursing through your veins.

"Well?"

"No... n-nothing like that... just grabbing..."

"Oh yeah? You like that? How about this?"

He closed two fingers around your nipple, one hand still on your back to keep you balanced as your body reacted to his touch. Between the two digits, you felt your nipples heating up, the slight, burning pain from the way he squeezed them sending a signal down your spine that seemed to affect every part of you. Tighter, tighter, and then as your eyes closed a little more, eyelids pressed tight, he would ease up to offer some relief.

"You like that? Like it rough?"

"I think... I think I like both."

"So, something like this?"

He teased your nipples once more, pressing harder with his fingertips, pulling them out and jiggling your breasts as he tugged at them, this lewder act interspersed with a gentle caress as he held your breast against the palm of his hand, carefully cupping it as he flicked his thumb over the sensitive and completely erect nipple.

You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, Coop's hand moved swiftly from your body to your cheeks, popping the lip back out as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into your face. Understanding the message, and seemingly showing this in your wide-eyed gaze, he let his rough, leathery hand make its way back down to your breast, cupping it once more as he spoke.

"Different, see? Pleasure is hard to come by out here. You gotta do it right when you've got the chance."

Cooper leaned into your neck, whispering the words low and slowly, his dry, chapped lips skimming over your skin as he continued.

"I bet down there they didn't know the first thing about real pleasure. Takes time, something like that. You gotta learn the body, gotta make it feel good."

His teeth grazed over your shoulder and back up along your neck before he pulled back, watching your eyes refocus from the haze of arousal.

"Did they make you feel good?"

"No."

You were confident in that statement. It hadn't felt good. It felt rushed. Clumsy. Shameful. And as you pondered it, your mouth remained open in a slight pout which trembled as Cooper asked his next question.

"And what about your pretty lips... did they kiss them?"

"A little..."

Cooper leaned in, his rough lips pressing onto yours with firm contact, his tongue staying in place as though he imagined that might be a bit too much for you right now. But that same level of restraint didn't keep him from letting his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, pulling it out, only letting go when you winced in surprise as the suddenness of the action.

"Didn't bite them either. Of course not, what am I thinking? That would be a little too adventurous for your kind."

His face took on a darker tone as he smiled knowingly towards you.

“And what about these pretty lips?”

Before you could piece together the question, his hand was diving into your jumpsuit, pushing down the front and past the waist, stroking against the front of your underwear which, by now, was soaking wet with your arousal.

“They touch these lips, huh?”

You gasped as he pushed your underwear to the side, stroking his fingers along your slick, plump pussy lips, withdrawing them soon after to taste you on his tongue, the way you had watched him taste the blood of enemies, the blood of victims.

“Stand up, darlin’… Why don’t you take that suit off, hm? Get yourself comfy.”

As you raised yourself up from his hips, your legs wobbled under you, not quite steady enough to support you so soon after being reduced to jelly by Cooper’s touch, his caramelised words that filled your ears, the sharp twang of his accent, the delicate cadence, the power rumbling underneath like an almost silent bassline.

“Do it slowly though.”

Cooper watched carefully as you stood nervously before him, shuffling out of your suit, stripping for him, your hips moving from side to side slow and steady, unintentionally sultry in the way you moved. Without taking his eyes from you he reached for his canteen, taking a long sip from it as you let your suit fall down over your legs, stepping out of it and pushing it to the side with your feet.

“That’s it, darlin’. Can’t do this half-hearted. I need to have access to all of you there. Now come sit back down.”

You held your arms in front of you, feeling far too exposed for the shelter you’d found for the evening. No windows, no locks on the doors. But it was difficult to focus on that worry for too long as you watched Cooper’s tongue flit back out over his lips, clear strands of drool sparkling in the light as he took you in, hungrily, dreamily.

“Turn around though. You face that way.”

The metal buttons on the front of his duster coat were cold against the skin of your back, but you leaned into them anyway. Cooper’s hand curved around your neck and up under your chin, holding your face forward.

“You keep an eye out, holler if you see anything coming. I’ll do everything else.”

A faint clicking sound, the safety on his gun being flicked to off, before those same fingers draped over your mound and down on to your lips, spreading them apart, the cool air of the decrepit room cooling the heat of your hot, aching cunt. With two fingers holding your lips apart, he let the middle digit tap against your clit, each tiny sensation turning your blood cold before heating it exponentially, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow as you felt a tingle in your abdomen.

The finger that tapped the sensitive bud began stroking it from side to side, laying flat against it length wise as Cooper strummed your body, still holding your chin in his hands, smiling to himself every time your back arched away from him in intense pleasure. Every nerve-ending was at his mercy. He was right, it was different up here. But you wondered how much of that was the Wasteland and it’s effect on sexuality and pleasure, and how much of it was just him. Cooper Howard, Wasteland bounty hunter, a past life he refused to talk about, the most charismatic monster you had ever met. His fingers, daintily crossing over your clit, as you felt his breath, silent except for an occasional hum of satisfaction in the form of a long moan. Maybe it was just Cooper who was different.

It was hard to focus on this new line of though as his hard fingertips clamped down on your clit, pinching it as he rolled it between his fingers. Even harder when he let his hand drop from your neck and instead began teasing at your nipples once more. Soft, cruel flicks over the hardened bumps, his fingers at work on your body, his lips kissing at the back of your neck. Moans growing louder, more frequent, as he let himself enjoy the act of making you squirm. You could tell he was having fun, as you rolled your hips back a little, feeling the thick bulge of his stiffening cock against your rear. You wondered how it might feel, how it might look, and what he could do differently with it.

“Cooper… Coop… I think I’m going to cum…”

His movements quickened, cock twitching against your body as he pinched tighter and pressed his fingers harder against your cunt.

“Don’t you dare, little lady.”

“Ok I’ll… I’ll try but… you have to… stop… please stop… Coop…”

He ignored your please, the whining, desperate begging as you tried to stop your body from the natural, encouraged reaction.

“Have some self-control, sweetheart.”

“Cooper, I really can’t… please… please stop touching me…”

“I absolutely will not.”

Your fingers dug into his thighs, but you noticed that you refused to move away from him. You wanted to do as he asked, wanted to hold yourself back from the brink of orgasm to prolong his touch, but you couldn’t risk him actually stopping, fearing that your body might crumble if his fingers left your quivering, pathetic body for only a second.

Each stroke against your increasingly wet and sensitive pussy had you trembling and shaking, and Cooper had to remove his hand from your breast to keep you steady, placing it under your chin and holding you steady by the neck.

“I am warning you, missy.”

“Cooper… I can’t stop…”

You shuddered and whined as your body gave in to the temptation, feeling a rush of heat and relief as you came on his lap, your arousal coating his pants, adding to the collection of stains and wear on them. But he didn’t stop then.

“No wait… seriously, Cooper… I can’t… I can’t take much more, honestly…”

“Listen, I told you. I said you better not cum. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

Your eyes began to sting with tears of exasperation as your body kept on pushing to its limits, conjuring up another wave of climax, tormenting you with never-ending bouts of arousal that kept you rutting against him, despite how painful it was to keep writhing into his body. You could feel your stomach knotting again, not much time between each orgasm to relax, and you dug your hands into his thighs, pushing your body up off of him as you tensed completely.

“Ok, this time, you do it on my command. You do it when I say you can, alright?”

“Cooper…”

“Don’t give me that pleading shit, you asked me to show you how things are done. Well this is how Cooper fuckin’ Howard does things. So are you ready? You gonna come for me?”

“C-coop… I’ll… I’ll try…”

“Good girl, now you keep that mouth making those whines and moans. I don’t need you to call out my name or anything, I know I’m all you’re thinking about.”

The praise, the self-confidence, the way his fingers seemed to be pulling your orgasm out, motioning for it to come closer to him.

“Come on, darlin’, come on…”

Your vision blurred as the climax came over you, body rolling and convulsing as you came once more at Cooper’s insistence, your cheeks stained with tears, salted water rolling through the layers of grime and clearing paths to your chin.

As you settled back down onto his lap with a shudder, you felt Cooper’s fingers stroking through your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, oddly calm, but you supposed that you deserved his kindness as you had done as he had asked, making up for your previous indiscretion. He was almost cooing, shushing you as you found your breath, establishing your sense of self once more after the overstimulating orgasm that shook your core.

“You seen enough of the big bad world for one day then?”

You probably had, but you still found yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way your body reacted with a violent twitch at the notion of Cooper’s hands delivering intense pleasure.

“A glutton for punishment, hm? Or just keen to learn?”

As you pondered your answer, Cooper seemed to have come to the conclusion for you, as he tapped your hips and began to shift underneath you.

“Alright then, get onto your knees.”

Positioning yourself at his feet, you couldn’t help but look up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at you with that unique brand of disdain and intrigue he had somehow mastered. You knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and your mouth began watering at the thought. What he might taste like. What he might look like.

You didn’t have to imagine for long though, as you could see his fingers working the belt of his pants, loosening it, unzipping his fly, and gripping his semi-erect cock at the base as he took it out, brandishing it. He kept close attention on your own eyes, a soft sigh of relief imperceptibly escaping his chest as he noticed your pupils widen, your mouth opening in preparation for him.

It was exactly as you had expected. The texture of the shaft was similar to that of his cheeks and his forearms, a similar colouring, though darker at the base and on the shaft which was tinted red. Thick, purple tinged veins covered it, winding around the length, cutting across the ridges of the scars.

“You can come closer, darlin’. I don’t know what they told you about mutations and radiation effects down there in your little utopia, but I can assure you… it doesn’t bite.”

The fear was palpable, clearly, but it was nothing to do with Cooper’s body and everything to do with your lack of experience, which, despite you arguing otherwise, was becoming plainly obvious even to you. You had only ever touched a cock with your hands outside of being quickly fucked. Several times you’d been cajoled into quickly stroking an erection under the blankets before your partner ran off to the bathroom, clean and tidy, flushing away the sins. And you were very well aware that there was always the option to suck on one, but it had never presented itself. It had never seemed that appealing to you. Until you were faced with Cooper’s.

He hadn’t even asked you to do either yet, but you found yourself curious, salivating over the thought of him, mind racing as you imagined how he might feel against your tongue.

“Can I taste it… you?”

Cooper smiled warmly, one of the few times you had seen him look at you with genuine pride.

“Now that is using your initiative. Of course you can.”

You kept your hands to yourself as you leaned in towards his body, content to let Cooper wield his length at you, his hand firm around the base as you inched closer, tongue pressed out over your lips. A strand of drool collected and spilled forward, hitting the floor in a soft patter just before the tip of your tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock.

A lot of the movements were instinctual, following your desires more than what you thought might be protocol as you dragged your tongue up the shaft and swirled over the blushing head of his cock. It tasted bitter, but in a pleasant way.  Savoury, not sweet. Salted, a tang that stayed there for a few seconds after your tongue had moved on to another spot. A flavour you found yourself craving now.

Cooper gripped tighter and pushed forward, taking you by surprise as he slid himself into your mouth, his free hand moving to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. As the taste of him hit the back of your tongue, cock almost touching your throat, you coughed and spluttered a little.

“Fuck me, darlin’… do you need me to show you how to do this too?”

He looked down at you, filled with pity as he saw your face. Red cheeks, puffed out, lips stretched over the girth of his cock, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe.

“Breath through your nose… breathe in…”

You followed his instructions, instantly calmed when you found your lungs filling with air once more. Almost immediately back to enjoying yourself, the feeling of Cooper inside of you, the control he had as he held your head against him.

“Now… you don’t want to choke too much, so keep your tongue flat… yeah, just like that…”

It was so much easier like that, and you could feel your cheeks getting warmer and redder as you realised that not only had you embarrassed yourself with your spluttering and lack of knowledge, but that Cooper had clearly done this a lot.

“And your teeth… well, usually they’ll tell you to keep ‘em outta the way, but you know me… gotta be different…”

Taking the hint, you let your jaw close slightly, the pain of the stretch lessened, your teeth scraping along the top of his shaft as your tongue worked the underneath, sucking and rolling as much as you could while keeping it flat.

He didn’t say much else, and you couldn’t tell if he was particularly enjoying himself. It worried you, the fact that he had specific preferences, the way it was so clear how much more experienced he was than you. How many others had there been? And were they all better than you? As your mind wandered to your anxieties, you completely missed the fact that you had begun to drool all over yourself until Cooper relaxed his grip on your head and wiped at your chin with his thumb. Catching your eyes and sensing some of your worries, he was surprisingly quick to soothe you.

“You can swallow or spit or let it all spill out, I don’t mind makin’ a mess darlin’. But whatever you’re doing, you keep that up.”

You were so pathetically grateful for the encouragement, for the tiniest semblance of praise, that you felt yourself moaning involuntarily. The soothing motion of sucking on his cock, the taste of something new, the comforting knowledge that he was happy with your efforts. You could feel your clit throbbing, aroused by Cooper’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with the way you worked him over.

Which is why it surprised you so much when he pulled his cock from your mouth, your lips slipping off of it with a disgustingly lewd popping sound, drool spilling onto your chin in long strands which stretched from your lips to his cock and tore apart as he distanced himself from you.

And again, that sympathetic gaze, the way he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it.

“Oh, don’t you look at me with those big, sad eyes. You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. That was good, ‘specially for a first try…”

He winked to you as he spoke, causing your heart to skip enough beats that you thought you might die there and then.

“… It’s just that I’m all slicked up and ready to go now… so you wanna bend over for me? Or do you wanna come sit on my lap?”

“Uh… lap, please… I was kinda bent over for the last… first time.”

“Well, you come and take a seat then, darlin’, let ol’ Coop show you something new.”

You nervously settled your entirely nude body back down onto his thighs. Cooper’s hands were gentle against your shoulders as he pulled you backwards with him, leaning at a slight angle in the chair, his cock rigid and firm as it sat against your waiting cunt, coated in your drool which almost seemed to shimmer with the dancing light of the fire.

Then, so carefully, so gently, far more than you’d ever seen him be before, Cooper took hold of his cock at the base and slid it inside of you, one hand on your stomach as he braced you, keeping your body steady as he inserted himself further and further between your clenching walls.

“Bigger than before?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the distinct stretch, his rough, textured cock forcing its way inside your cunt, pressed up to the hilt, testing your limits.

“Better?”

“Mhm…”

“Speak up, darlin’.”

With your voice strained and breathy, you managed to form some words.

“Yes… it’s better.”

“That’s it, good girl. Now, I’m gonna buck my hips, ok? You just try and keep your balance.”

Below you, Cooper shifted a little, his hips rolling backwards, inches of his cock escaping your tight, aching cunt, before he rolled them forwards and upwards, back into you. A slow, steady pace that he focused on keeping until you felt warmer, more relaxed.

“You got this, it’s like riding a horse.”

“I’ve never… hm… ridden a horse…”

Cooper chuckled, a low and rasping sound that sent shivers over your skin and seemed close enough to you that it was coming from inside of your body.

“Never ridden a ghoul before either, but you’re handling it alright for a first timer.”

You were coping ok, you had to admit, but you could feel your stomach muscles tensing, the knots back in full force as they tensed and tightened, loosened and frayed with each pump of his cock within you.

“Ah… Cooper…”

“Too much, darlin’? Does it hurt?”

There was a sense of genuine care in his tone, as though he had taken it upon himself to show you that yes, things were different up there in the Wasteland, but that didn’t always mean they were worse. Some things were good, if not a little bit difficult to take at first.

“A little…”

Cooper tilted your chin up, forcing your head to lean back completely against his shoulder. In a delicate move, one far more romantic than you imagined from him, he ran his thumb over your lips, angling his neck to look at them, his own mouth open ever so slightly, a monotonous panting as he kept his hips moving, increasing the speed and the force at which he entered you.

His eyes flicked up suddenly, looking into yours, catching your gaze and holding unblinking eye contact as he spoke.

“I know… I know… Just a little longer, though…”

He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing against your body, enveloped in your hot, wet, velvety interior.

“I know it hurts… but I ain’t stopping, so don’t even ask… here…”

You watched as he brought a finger to your lips, offering it up to you.

“…you bite down on that if it gets too much, ok… but don’t hold back on those sweet sounds… I wanna hear you scream.”

With that vaguely threatening remark, he thrust up into you, banging against your body, spurring on your orgasm but unleashing a dull ache that spread through every sensitive part of you.

“Won’t… be long… keep it together… good girl…  good girl…”

It felt good, the pain, the sting, the ache, the shivers. The fact that he was using you, finding pleasure in you. All of it culminating in Cooper’s nearing orgasm which you could sense was closing in on him. His movements were becoming more frantic, sloppier, and he was mouthing all manner of sweet nothings as he let his façade slip away.

And those soft mumbles opened up into a wide roar as he clung to your body, the hand on your neck cutting off the air to your lungs only briefly, one hand on your lap pressing sharp indents into your skin as he forced himself into you. The last few moments of his fevered thrusting, fucking you wildly, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he rutted into you in a dazed stupor before his body gave in. His cock throbbed, each pulse sending another rope of cum against your insides, filling you with his seed as he shuddered finally, slinking backwards into the chair and taking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from him.

You’d only managed to take a few steps forward before Cooper addressed you, opening his eyes to watch you standing there awkwardly, his cum dripping down your thighs, a warmth that quickly turned cool in the air of the room.

“Did I say you could get up?”

Panic settled in your chest, aware that you had waited until you felt his muscles relax, his body retreating from you, before you slid off his cock, expecting him to push you away anyway, like your first time. You assumed he was finished, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the idea that he might not be done with you.

“Are we… oh, Cooper, I really can’t take anymore.”

Even as you stood, you could feel your legs shaking, weakened by the intense orgasms, the way they tightened against his every movement.

“That’s different up here too then, I suppose.”

Cooper stood up from the chair, pacing towards you with a purposeful stride as he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipping them up as he reached you. You inhaled sharply as he placed his hand at the back of your head, those knots in your stomach beginning to form again, worried that a further, albeit pleasurable punishment was on the cards. But you were surprised as he slid his free hand around your back, tugging at your waist as he pulled you in close to him. A quick smile before his lips were on yours, the brim of his hat pushed upwards as he leaned into the kiss. Warm, gentle, the kind of kiss you’d seen in movies. Practised and confident, meaningful, sincere.

When he pulled back, your body following him a little before you settled back onto your feet, he smiled warmly.

“Sweet with the sour, darlin’. You gotta keep ‘em wanting more.”

“M-more?”

More as in now? Or more as in the idea that Cooper had enjoyed himself and would be willing to offer that kind of pleasure to you again. And he answered with a wink.

“Definitely. There’s a still a lot you’ve got to learn.”

[boltwrites]

Kitty

Fandom: Marvel; X-Men Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine / Reader (Gender Neutral) Rating: M Tags: Suggestive, Logan's cat ear hair, Teasing

Synopsis: Sleep-addled and maybe a little horny, you ask Logan if he does his hair like that on purpose.

A/N: Fun fact about this one - you could replace reader with Deadpool and the fic would probably be the exact same (but probably with more stabbing). Enjoy! Also I almost titled it Kittyuuuuuhhhh but decided against it LMAO. Is this good? No. But I needed to expel it like some kind of demon. Anyway-

You made a soft pleased noise, arching your back as you stretched as far as you could under the thin sheet of your shared bed. Muscled warmed, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, blinking blearily against the morning light that filtered in through the curtains.

You smiled - sleepy and sweet - as you propped yourself on your elbows to see the figure sat at the foot of your bed. Logan was already awake and halfway dressed, jeans hugging his hips as he leaned over to tug on his boots. Meanwhile, here you were - still in the oversized T-shirt you used as pajamas, your hair messy from sleep.

On that thought, your eyes drifted from where they had been admiring the taunt planes of his back, to Logan's own styled hair. He'd already brushed it, those little tufts that curled into what looked like tiny devil horns neatly defined in the soft morning light.

You frowned. Hmm, no, devil horns wasn't quite right. Not really.

You sat up, a hazy plan dancing through your mind as you crawled your way to the end of the bed. Logan glanced back at you - your heart flipped at the soft smile he offered you, making no effort to shy away from your touch.

"Hey, you don't have to get up because of me," he chided. You didn't listen - instead, you draped your arms around his warm shoulders, leaned in to pepper little kisses along his jaw, even if his beard caught most of them. You didn't mind how it tickled.

"But you're wearing my favorite outfit," you insisted, doing your best not to chuckle. You did like him in worn out jeans and no shirt. It looked good on him. Everything looked good on the man, though.

"I'm wearing half an outfit," he replied, turning just enough so that he could press a proper kiss to your lips. You sighed, pillowing your head on his shoulder as his lips met yours - lazy, gentle. Those weren't words you'd use to describe his kisses at any other time of day, really. This was special.

"I know," you replied, offering him a silly smile as you leaned against his shoulder, arm around his chest preventing him from dressing any further. He didn't seem to mind, though, as your free hand carefully carded your way through his hair - making sure not to displace any of his hard work.

"But something I don't know..." you continued, twirling a finger around the tip of one of the tufts. "Is why your hair ends up like this. Do you do it on purpose?"

"Do I do what on purpose?" he asked. It was laced with a chuckle, like he thought this was one of your half-awake musings. And, perhaps it was, in a way. You were, technically half-awake. But you weren't making things up. It was a real question that had crossed your mind on several separate occasions.

"You know-" you insisted, releasing that little bit of hair from your grasp. "The kitty ears."

"The what?"

He laughed it, pulled away from you if only to make sure you caught a glance of his expression - a mixture of shock and amusement that telegraphed to you that he still wasn't taking you seriously.

You rolled your eyes at him, removing your hand from around his shoulders to scratch along his scalp, up to that little tuft of curled hair. He closed his eyes, made a low rumbling noise in his throat that only seemed to further the illusion that he was really just some big cat in disguise.

"The kitty ears," you insisted, "do you or do you not purposefully style your hair so you have these little kitty ear things?"

You sat up on your knees, reaching both your hands up to curl in the tufts - tugging them just hard enough to make his eyes flutter open as he looked up at you.

"Cat ears," he deadpanned, doubt lacing his words. "You think my hair looks like cat ears."

"Kitty ears," you clarified, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "And you didn't answer my question, which means you absolutely do it on purpose."

"No-" Logan started, tone exasperated. But, unfortunately for him, he was already in too deep.

"Nope, sorry-" you laughed, sitting down behind him to wrap your arms around his bare chest, brushing through the downy hair there. "You're my little kitty now."

"Jesus Christ-" he groaned, rolling his eyes as you kissed his cheek. You made to kiss the corner of his lips next, but he turned his head ever so slightly, trying his best to quell the smile that was spreading. He'd just wanted you to pay attention as he insisted:

"I'm not a fucking cat."

"Why not?" you teased, kissing just under his ear with a little smile. "You've got the ears..."

You snaked a hand up to card through his hair again - making sure to rake your blunt nails along his scalp like you knew he loved. And, despite his dismissive tone, you caught his eyes fluttering closed, his lips parting ever so slightly.

"The claws..." you teased, punctuating each word with a new open-mouthed kiss to his neck - the last dotted with a touch of teeth that issued a sweet rumble from low in his throat.

"The fur-" your free hand slid down his chest - down the dips and curves of his defined abs, to tangle in the thicker hair that disappeared below the waistline of his jeans.

"And, I know how to make you purr," you chuckled, fingers dancing at the edge of his belt as your other hand weaved through one of those silly little kitty ears.

Logan wasn't immune to the way you touched him - when he laughed at your ridiculous comments, it was a bit breathless, even if he sounded absolutely exhausted with your antics.

"I have to get dressed," he insisted, his hand drawing over your own where you'd just started to wiggle your fingers under the tight denim. "And you're being ridiculous."

"Hmm," you hummed, nipping at the junction of his neck and shoulder. The muscles there jumped, tensed, then relaxed - and where he'd been grasping at your hand, your fingers briefly intertwined.

"If I remember correctly..." you pondered, nuzzling against his neck. "Kitties don't wear clothes."

"Oh, come on-" he groaned, laughing as he leaned back against your chest, his head pillowed on your shoulder. You grinned down at him. "How long are you gonna keep this shit up?"

"Until you're sick of it," you promised, kissing the corner of his mouth. He rolled his eyes. "Or, you take your pants off."

"We both know you'll keep saying it even if I take my pants off," he countered, his hold on your hand the only thing preventing you from inching your way into his pants.

"Touché. But -" you bargained. "I'd be distracted."

He laughed, loud and full, and your smile grew even more. That - that's what you really liked. When you could finally get some honest joy out of him. He looked so pretty when he smiled like that, even if it was brief. His hand squeezed over yours - soft, possessive, loving. That made your heart flutter even more than the thought of getting him undressed.

But he was right - you were never going to let him live this down.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Feelings Thawed

Character; Cater Diamond

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, pining, ice skating (to various degrees of success)

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; This is a present/thank you to my mutual @i-like-forgs. I hope you enjoy this ice skating scene with Cater, and that you get to skate soon!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

The brisk wind bit at your nose, and you pulled up your scarf, trying to keep away the offending wind. Around you it was a winter wonderland, all made possible in the temperate conditions thanks to Cater, who was filming you skating around on the frozen pond’s surface.

“You know,” you hollered, making sure that you caught his attention, “you should join me! It’s fun!” You came to a stop by the pond’s edge, where Cater was standing with a large thermos.

Cater just shot you a wink, handing you the thermos. “This is for you though, silly!” 

He was deflecting, you could tell; behind that bright and cheery smile that he always seemed to wear around others, you knew when there was something off with Cater. You accepted the thermos though, and took a sip of the spicy apple cider, still piping hot.

You gave him a look and pulled lightly on his coat sleeve. “Yes, but it’s more fun with others, come on Cater!” You stepped back onto the ice, and slowly skated near him, waiting with an eager smile.

He looked at you, and then back at the ice, but he stayed standing in the light snow, shooting you that smile. “But I can’t take photos if I’m out there with you!” He scratched at the back of his neck.

Liar. “Cater,” you looped back around and stepped onto the bank, balancing on your skates, “do you not know how to skate?”

Cater’s smile turned sheepish, and his ‘ahahaha, looks like my gig is up’ chuckle made its appearance. He had been found out. “Never got the chance to,” he hid his face slightly in his scarf, either to keep the cold at bay or to hide that his cheeks were turning pink. “So I’d just slow ya down.”

You took his hand into yours, “Well, I could teach you if you wanted. Just a warning though, you’re gonna fall on your butt a lot, might get a few bruises.”

Cater looked down at your entwined hands. Mittens and gloves separated your skin from touching one another, but Cater could swear that he could feel the sensation nonetheless through the layers of fabric.

“You would? Even if I pull you down with me?” 

The last question wasn’t just about the ice skating; Cater didn’t want to force you to do anything that you didn’t want to… and that included being his friend. His heart seemed to whisper stronger emotions though, but he didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had.

You walked him out to the ice, and the both of you swiftly fell down on the ice, hard. But you just laughed and got right back up again, “Well, we did just fall. There isn’t anything scary about falling down; yes it stings and might leave a gnarly bruise, but in order to move forward we have to fall and get back up. So yes, is what I guess I’m saying.”

Cater looked up at you, the sun illuminating you and the snow glittered behind you. You were holding your hand out again, waiting for him. And Cater took your hand. 

It took him a while to get the hang of it, and he fell down quite a bit, but every time he fell down you helped him back up. And by the time that the sun was setting in the west, the both of you were cold, and both were going to wake up tomorrow with some bruises. It was fun though, which is all that mattered… but that whisper in Cater’s heart was by now singing, and maybe he would listen to it, but for now, he was happy with how the way things were, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, especially with how much you had smiled today. Your smile and knowing that you had fun with him was enough.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tags; @eynnwwyjth, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @silvers-numberonefan, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[fairysluna]

Canon era Cregan Stark + being a softie with his Targ wife in the Godswood, just him and her playing in the snow type vibes

-🦊

how i looove cregan x targ!reader, so im just gonna add this little drabble to my among wolves and dragons series, though it can obviously be read as a standalone!! thank you foxy for this cute request!! ily🤍

tags — just fluff and domestic cregan for my cregan girlies out there.

Your hysterical laugh would make his heart burst with joy — contagious enough to make him giggle like a boy as he chased you down the Godswood. You heard his fastened breathing and the cracking of the leaves behind you, knowing he was about to catch you; you tried to run faster, but your long dress and heavy fur coat made it impossible for you to move quickly through the sticks and snow. It was no surprise when your husband finally put his arms around your waist, holding you against his chest as he let out some breathy chuckles against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Got you,” he whispered in your ear, causing shivers all over your body. You shrink in your position, his breathing tickling you and making you giggle. “Got to pay me now, right?” he mentioned before turning your body around in order to face you. Involuntarily, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to get closer to him. He closed his eyes and pouted his lips, asking you for a simple kiss. You contemplated his beauty for a second, using your fingertips to trace his manly features before you cupped his face — his stubble brushing against your palm as you motioned him down, closer to you.

You brushed your nose against his, humming when his grip around your body tightened; his touch so possessive, yet so gentle. His furrowed eyebrows relaxed as his expression softened, quickly turning into a puddle between your arms. He leaned forward, blindly and instinctively searching for your lips. He was growing impatient, but complying to his wishes was not in your plans.

Before touching his lips with yours, you took him by surprise and pushed him into the soft, cold snow. You attempted to run away from there, thinking that your silly game would continue; however, before you stepped any further, you heard Cregan starting to groan almost as if he was in pain. Your eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and guilt as you quickly reached his side again, kneeling and trying to see where he was hurting. His name became almost a chant from your lips as you desperately tried to see what was wrong, until he suddenly trapped you with his big arms once again and pressed you down the snow.

You squealed, hearing him laughing victorious. “You're such a fool! You scared me!” You tried to push him in the chest but his large hands grabbed yours and placed them above your head. He then leans towards you with that smug grin that would make your knees weak, and he kissed you so fervently that a soft moan left your lips. His touch was possessive, a bit rough and brutish, but it did not fail to make you see stars behind your eyelids. You sighed enamored once he pulled back.

“I'm just claiming my price, my love,” he softly said, giving soft kisses all over your face as you tried your hardest to look mad.

“I shall feed you to my dragon if you do this to me again!” you threatened, receiving a low chuckle from him.

“I'll take the risk.”

follow @by-fairysluna for updates!

GENERAL TAG LIST — @islandfantasydream @arcielee @bucknastysbabe @zaldritzosrose @rafeism @valeskafics

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[pin-k-ink]

MASKED INTENTIONS ⋆✦⋆ bokuto koutaro

synopsis ➸ bokuto’s halloween party is your chance to finally make a move. you’ve both danced around your feelings for too long, and tonight, you’re determined to make it official—no matter what

tags ➸ friends to lovers, mutual pining, sexual tension, some kuroo x reader, bathroom sex, possessive!bokuto, biting, marking, nipple play, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting, begging, praise kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, belly bulge, size kink

wc ➸ 8.4k

"Didn't you hear me the first time, [Y/N]-chan? I said I'm throwing a huge Halloween bash this weekend!"

Bokuto's boisterous voice cut through the dull roar of the bustling student center effortlessly. You startled slightly at his enthusiastic declaration, gaze snapping up from where it had been shamelessly roaming over the firm stretch of his pecs straining against his fitted tee.

Feeling your cheeks warm at being caught so brazenly ogling, you quickly averted your eyes and cleared your throat in a vain attempt at recovering some composure.

"Sorry Kou, I was just...uh, admiring your shirt," you fibbed weakly, resisting the urge to squirm beneath his bright amber stare. "But yeah, a Halloween party does sound pretty fun! Count me in for sure."

Bokuto beamed at your agreement, seemingly oblivious to your bashful once-over despite the faint blush dusting his cheeks. That radiant smile of his always did silly, fluttery things to your pulse without fail.

"Of course you're gonna be there!" he laughed richly, slinging one arm carelessly across the back of the sofa behind you both.

You held your breath as the motion made his sleeves ride up further, tendons flexing in that way that never failed to distract you into yearning. Bokuto leaned in conspiratorially, utterly heedless of how his solid frame dwarfed your space so deliciously.

"You're basically the deciding factor on whether this thing goes as crazy as I'm hoping, [Y/N]," he confided in a hushed rumble that had you mentally replaying the words several times into something far more suggestive.

Unconsciously, your stare traced the sharp line of his chiseled jaw, committing every shadowed dip and hollow to fresh memory. How you yearned to brush your fingertips along that enticing path, committed the sensation of Bokuto's stubble to sear into your nerve endings for the thousandth time...

"I mean, you're hands down the most fun AND the prettiest person I know!" Bokuto continued in that same oblivious candor. "No way I'm throwing this thing without my trusty sidekick by my side to keep me honest!"

You barely suppressed a shiver at the casual endearment coupled with Bokuto's undivided attention focused so intimately upon you. A tiny, smitten part of you indulged the wild fantasy of him actually intending that velvet rumble as a subtle overture towards something more than friendship...

"You're such a smooth talker, Kou," you managed after clearing your throat roughly.

Reaching out, you laid one hand over his bicep in a featherlight caress that made his tawny eyes go wide momentarily. Bokuto seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second under the unexpected contact, lashes fluttering adorably. But almost immediately, that huge sunny grin stretched back across his features as if nothing remotely charged had occurred.

"Laying it on thick already to make sure I get the best party partner in crime on my side!" he joked brightly, flexing that tantalizing muscle beneath your palm in a way you were certain he didn't fully comprehend the effect of.

With herculean effort, you dragged your stare up to meet his before your imagination could wander down far more lascivious avenues than mere bicep appreciation again.

"You don't play fair, Bokuto Koutarou," you rasped out, unable to resist a low note of playful accusation despite knowing his flirtations remained entirely unintentional.

But oh, how you wished the heated looks and delicious innuendos he tossed around with such careless charm could ring with deeper meaning behind them - aimed solely at reeling you into the same helpless thrall he'd held you captive within for months.

"Aww hush, you know you love it!" Bokuto laughed again, utterly guileless and irresistibly handsome in that moment.

All you could do was surrender fully to melting into a puddle of longing all over again, unable to deny his searing assessment even to yourself. After all, who else could inspire such debilitating desire in you but your gloriously oblivious best friend?

Pursing your lips in a vain effort at composure, you simply leveled Bokuto with your most sultry stare while his rambling rundown of planned Halloween frivolities continued to wash over your hopelessly smitten senses. No small act of stubborn bravery when his broad palms were suddenly gesturing with such vigor right before your yearning eyes...

"—and I was thinking of going all out with the vampire look this year!" Bokuto exclaimed, eyes sparkling with mischievous excitement. "Picture this - slick cape, ruffled shirt open to show off my eight-pack, maybe even a pair of those fake fangs if I can find some decent ones!"

You bit back a whimper that threatened to slip free, hormones blazing at the enticing mental image he was so carelessly painting. Bokuto, looking devastatingly handsome while deliberately putting his sculpted physique on display in one of those low-cut vampire getups? Yeah, that was a surefire recipe for spontaneous combustion where your overactive imagination was concerned.

"You'd look good enough to eat all dressed up like that," you couldn't resist murmuring in a tone several shades too sultry for mere casual conversation.

Bokuto simply cocked his head owlishly at your heated rejoinder, apparently oblivious to the blatant innuendo dripping from your words. That only made the rakish grin he flashed you in response hit straight to your rapidly fraying restraint like a sucker punch.

"Hah! You know it!" he crowed richly, flexing one bicep with a playful wink. "Can't wait to knock all the thirsty ladies dead when they get an eyeful—"

You had to physically cross your legs in a vain bid at composure when his words somehow grew even more salaciously charged without apparent intent. Mercifully, Bokuto seemed to pause mid-ramble, sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if sensing the fresh current of tension thrumming between your bodies.

"Wait, hold up!" He leaned in infinitesimally closer, rendering his clean, crisp cologne impossible to ignore. "What costume have you got planned to match my vampire vibe, huh [Y/N]-chan?"

Your breath stalled entirely as Bokuto's penetrating golden stare flicked from your face down to your mouth and back again with unabashed curiosity. Unconsciously, you found yourself mirroring the motion of dragging your gaze over the lush seam of his parted lips before catching yourself just in time.

"Now now, Kou," you husked out in your lowest register, unable to resist the flirtatious opening he'd created. "You really think I'm gonna spoil the whole surprise before the main event? Where's the fun in that?"

Bokuto immediately pulled back with a dramatic gasp of mock indignation, somehow filling the scant space between your bodies with that irresistible presence despite the harmless distance. You suppressed a tiny smirk at how easy it was to rile up his naturally excitable nature - especially when it came to any perceived challenge or hint of competition.

"No way, [Y/N]! That's so not fair!" he protested with a rumbling pout, folding his arms across that firm chest you'd been so keen to ogle. "As the guest of honor at this epic bash, I totally deserve a sneak peek before everyone else gets to see you all dolled up!"

His rich timbre dipped into a suggestive burr over those last few words that made every nerve ending in your body prickle with keen awareness. Only Bokuto could manage to sound so utterly innocuous and temptation incarnate at the same time without even trying.

"Yeah?" you couldn't resist dragging out on a breathy exhale, watching the way his eyes tracked the swell of your chest with unconscious focus. "Well then maybe if you're a good boy and take your party planning duties seriously...I'll consider giving you a private show before the main event later."

Your voice definitely sounded far too heavy with promise by the end of that bold declaration. But Bokuto simply threw back his head in another bout of raucous laughter, utterly guileless in the face of your shamelessly smoldering once-over.

"Now you're speaking my language!" he grinned down at you with so much boyish exuberance. "I can’t wait to see you in it!"

Before you could attempt to disentangle yourself from his effortless charisma and get up from the sofa once more, Bokuto reached out without preamble to grasp your hips in both large palms. You immediately went rigid as the sheer strength and heat of him seared through the thin fabric between you, pinning you down with scorching insistence until you were staring up into those blazing amber depths helplessly.

"In fact, better go ahead and show me a little something right now, [Y/N]-chan..." he husked out in a tone of pure sin, tightening his fingers until they dug into your flaring curves possessively. "Just to prove you can really back up all that pretty talk when it counts..."

You choked down a desperate whimper, hands instinctively scrabbling against that broad chest for purchase as Bokuto quite literally stole what little breath remained in your lungs. This man would always be the undoing of you eventually, oblivious charm or not - you could feel it down to your molten core.

Before you could formulate any sort of reasoned response, the shrill peal of the class bell rang out across campus. Body thrumming with unrealized need, you pulled back with a breathless laugh and shifted your hands to brace against Bokuto's chiseled torso instead.

"Easy there, Casanova," you managed to purr around your shallow pants. "I've got lectures to get to before I can bless you with the big unveiling of my costume. Think you can manage to behave yourself 'til this evening without my immaculate guidance?"

The tiniest flicker of disappointment flashed across Bokuto's striking features before he instantly smoothed it over with a winsome grin that kicked your pulse into high gear once more.

"No promises, baby!" he rumbled richly as you stepped out of his searing reach with great reluctance. "Unless you tell me what deliciously sinful look I've got to look forward to later tonight, that is!"

Your bark of wry laughter sliced easily through the thick atmosphere of building tension. Without breaking stride, you simply shot him an arch look over one shoulder as you turned towards the door finally.

"Like I said, Kou - tonight's ensemble stays a surprise..." You let your heated stare trail down the powerful flex of his abdomen in frank appreciation. "But I suppose you'll find out soon enough if you can keep those gorgeous eyes from popping clear outta their sockets around me..."

You punctuated the brazen statement with a shameless wink before whirling and sauntering off to class, leaving Bokuto's dumbstruck expression and one faintly uttered "hey!" lingering in your wake. He and the rest of his thirsty friends were all in for one hell of an evening indeed if you had your wickedest desires indulged.

This time, even Bokuto's famous density might not shield him from the full seductive force of your flirtatious charms being brought to bear...

You surveyed your reflection in the full-length mirror with a critical eye, smoothing your hands over the sinfully form-fitting crimson silk clinging to your every tantalizing curve and dip. The sleeveless cheongsam-style dress left absolutely nothing to the imagination - from the daringly low neckline putting your generous cleavage front and center, to the soaring thigh-high slit that would leave your legs on full display with each strutting step.

A diabolical smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth as you gave yourself one final saucy twirl, admiring the hypnotic sway of gossamer fabric rippling around your hips like tongues of flame dancing. Oh yes...this scorchingly lush ensemble would undoubtedly be more than enough for capturing a certain owl's undivided, stupefied attention in a deliciously compromising way.

The opening fanfare of 'Crazy Bitch' by Buckcherry had you jumping slightly before fumbling for your buzzing phone. You quirked one brow in amusement at the caller ID flashing across the screen - of course Kuroo had set that particular ringtone for himself on your phone.

"You're cutting it pretty close, aren't you kitten?" your fellow troublemaker purred the second you accepted the call.

Despite the familiar edge of mischief in his honey-rich timbre, you frowned slightly at the thinly veiled agitation lacing his words. Which instantly set off warning bells as to the potential status of a certain host you happened to be running fashionably late on at the moment...

"Look, don't get your panties in a twist," you replied dismissively, turning to examine your perfectly tousled hair from another enticing angle. "This ensemble takes a little extra effort to paint on if I'm gonna see any hope of making our dense guest of honor's jaw hit the floor tonight."

Kuroo's laugh crackled over the line in a dark velvet ribbon of sin that instantly catapulted your mind straight into the proverbial gutter. "Oh trust me, princess...there'll be precious little hope of Bokubro keeping his hungry gaze above sea level once he lays eyes on the look you're fixin' to strut in here."

That got your full attention, pupils dilating with keen desire at the mere suggestion of your longtime crush devouring every delectable inch of exposed skin and indecent curves you'd purposefully curated on his behalf tonight. Anticipation ignited molten coils of heat unfurling deep in your lower belly, nearly making your knees go weak in the process.

Before you could launch into wheedling Kuroo for more tittilating details at Bokuto's current state of unraveling, another teasing voice sounded in the background - Atsumu's unmistakable lilt overlaying familiar snarking about keeping things PG. You immediately scowled at the familiar byplay between those unrepentant flirts, mind flashing with crystal clarity on the debauched tableau unfolding at the venue without you.

Well...wasting one more minute on harmless primping was utterly out of the question now. Not when you had the chance to witness Bokuto Koutarou rendered senseless in person dangling so tantalizingly close.

"Sorry guys, but I’m done readying myself for the night," you husked out in a throaty growl of your own. "I'm on my way, and every single inch will be on full display for my owl to sink those pretty fangs into as soon as I arrive..."

A beat of weighted silence answered your searing promise, fractured only by Atsumu's breathless, "Fuuuuck..." and Kuroo's guttural hum of approval somewhere beyond sight.

"Clock's ticking for Bokuto to finally get his sweet comeuppance, huh?" the roguish middle blocker husked out before you could end the call. "Make sure to draw this one out niiiice and slow, kitten...hear me?"

The underlying warning to savor your long-awaited seduction properly tripped a fresh spark of wicked delight lighting up your nerve endings like a powder keg. Grinning brilliantly, you leaned forward until your cleavage brushed the mirror in an absolutely tantalizing tease of things yet to come.

"Oh don't you worry, Tetsu," you purred out in a feathery rasp that would've made any lesser man spontaneously combust. Your smile carved itself into a lascivious expression carved in sin itself as a full-bodied shudder racked your form exquisitely. "Let's just say our dear, sweet volleyball dolt won't know what hell he's wandered into until it's far too late to escape..."

With a resonant laugh that rang out sultry promise in its wake, you severed the call and squared your shoulders towards the dorm door. This was no longer simply a night of yearning for a man's acknowledgment, but a prowl zeroing in on its helpless prey at long last.

And Bokuto, for all his staunchly oblivious charms, wouldn't even know he'd tumbled into your carefully-laid snare until you had him bound irreparably to your thrall.

By the time you arrived at the buzzing venue, the Halloween party already seemed to be in full chaotic swing. Thumping basslines and shrieks of laughter echoed from the open doors, mingling with the smoky tendrils of dry ice fog spilling onto the sidewalk. You paused just outside the entrance, running an appreciative gaze over your skin-tight scarlet ensemble one final time before squaring your shoulders.

Tonight marked the culmination of months spent finessing all your most tantalizing wiles aimed at thoroughly enrapturing Bokuto in every sense. No more playing coy or hedging around the matter at hand - by night's end, that gloriously dense owl would be utterly yours in both body and soul, whether he realized it yet or not.

Squaring your shoulders with renewed determination, you slinked inside with hips swaying in a deliberate beckoning rhythm. The packed venue swallowed you instantly, heady waves of cologne, spilled liquor, and hormones crashing over your senses in a disorienting rush.

After shouldering through the first few knots of costumed revelers, you finally spied your trifecta of troublemakers holding court in one corner - Atsumu in some laughably tight red devil getup, bracketed by Kuroo's wolfish grins and Bokuto's towering frame clad in...oh hell yes.

Your breath stuttered faintly as you drank in the sight of him finally. The deliciously snug waistcoat, crisp white button-down straining against those obscene pectorals, onyx cape billowing behind him in tantalizing wisps...capping it all off, of course, with a pair of delightfully dumb faux fangs jutting over his lush lower lip.

Kuroo was the first to spot your crimson-tinted approach, burning amber eyes flicking over your scintillating form with unabashed lust before a slow, predatory smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. He elbowed Atsumu sharply, dipping his chin fractionally to signal your presence. But almost immediately, both boys retreated without fanfare from Bokuto's restless orbit - evidently having deduced your singular intent on this bewitching night in short order.

You prowled closer to where your unsuspecting prey currently slouched, shoulders rounded inward in one of his mercurial funks you'd become so adept at piercing down the years. That stormy, petulant expression looked so deliciously out of place framed by the gothic splendor of his meticulous costume...and so utterly enthralling for it.

No more holding back, you decided with a resolute inhale. It was now or never.

"Well well, what do we have here?" you purred out in your lowest, smokiest register - one you knew full well made Bokuto shiver with unconscious yearning each time. "Tell me, tall dark and sulky...do those fangs actually work as intended?"

Bokuto's head snapped up so fast you actually heard the accompanying crack of bone. Those blown amber irises of his imploded to twin points of blazing intensity when they finally locked onto your approaching figure in earnest. For several charged breaths, he simply drank you in head to toe with slackened jaw and parted lips before answering.

"Wh....[Y/N]-chan?" he managed to exhale reverently, sounding utterly poleaxed in a way that made your belly swoop with heady triumph. "Holy shit, I...you look incred—"

"Don't hurt yourself there, Kou," you crooned before he could devolve into rambling. Closing the distance between you in two deliberate strides, you ghosted calloused fingertips over the lush swell of his lower lip he'd just failed to moisten. Bokuto went utterly rigid as a bowstring at your touch, eyes fluttering like a flayed nerve ending at your unrepentant perusal of him.

Your nail snagged gently over one slightly crooked fang, tugging insistently until Bokuto's mouth parted on a ragged inhale. Releasing his lip from your teasing hold, you took the final step forward until the swells of your bodies brushed together tantalizing.

"A good little creature of the night like yourself should know better than to try tasting anything without proper...invitation first, hmm?"

Bokuto swallowed hard enough for you to track the flexing column of his throat, brain evidently having abandoned every last thread of function and reason at this proximity. You simply smiled, all teeth and sin, relishing the tangible aura of his desire washing over you in hot, lapping waves as you leaned in until the faint wisps of his cologne surrounded your senses.

"So tell me, Kou..." you breathed out against the shell of one flushed lobe, watching him shiver compulsively down to the core. "Do those pretty fangs of yours only work on the willing...or is a taste imminent no matter my answer?"

Those blown amber irises of his locked onto your smoldering stare with the intensity of a physical caress. You felt the air leave your lungs in a shuddery exhale as Bokuto inclined his chiseled features towards you torturously, bodies swaying together as if by sheer magnetic compulsion.

"Only if you want to...baby," he finally rumbled out in a tone lush with the most exquisite promise. His impossibly soft mouth trailed tantalizingly over the curve of your jaw, harsh stubble searing a brand into your softest skin.

You quirked one delighted brow upwards, a shiver of pure power tingling over your nerves at how thoroughly you seemed to have enraptured Bokuto's full, undivided focus in a single heady exchange. The music thrumming through the crowded venue seemed to fade away until all that registered were the harsh breaths sawed between your tantalizing proximity.

Bokuto's nostrils flared as his burning amber stare raked over your body again in a way that should have felt crude, and yet only stoked the molten coil of desire in your core higher. When he finally met your gaze once more, there was no mistaking the reckless, unrestrained hunger blazing in those hypnotic depths.

"You think you're so fucking cute, don't you?" His low rumble lashed over your sensitized nerves like a physical caress. "Swanin' around in that little scrap of nothing, practically begging for me to rip it right off you in front of everyone?"

You inhaled shakily at the blatant possession laced through his gravelly accusation. Bokuto took an indelible step closer, the solid mass of his frame allowing no prospect of retreat or avoidance whatsoever. His broad chest brushed the swell of your breasts with each thrumming inhale, the delicious friction making you shudder despite yourself.

"I see the way you strut and pose and tease the everloving fuck out of me on purpose, gorgeous..." His tongue darted out to lave over that plush lower lip you'd spent countless fevered nights yearning to taste firsthand. "And trust me...I've been dreaming up some wonderfully wicked ways to shut that pretty mouth for good using my—"

"Kou..." you gasped out weakly, thrilled arousal cresting hot and electric through your shaken form.

He reached out without warning, one iron-banded forearm knotting tight around your waist to crush you flush against the uncompromising hardness of his body. Your lips parted soundlessly as his erection branded itself against the softness of your belly in an unmistakable promise.

"So let's cut through all the bullshit teasing and playing coy for once yeah, baby?" Bokuto rumbled directly against the pulse point beneath your jaw, sending your eyelashes fluttering helplessly. "Why don't we finally answer this burning question I've got about what sort of nasty little noises you make when I get you under me...?"

The sheer blistering vulgarity of his murmured temptation made your knees go liquid on the spot. You sagged forward in his unrelenting embrace, shaking hands finding the solid plane of Bokuto's abdomen to brace yourself against as his mouth trailed searing, open kisses along the exposed curve of your throat.

"...Because I gotta be honest, kitten..." he continued in that same unapologetic burr vibrating through you both deliciously. "These last few months of watchin' you flaunt every lush inch while staying just outta reach have been absolutely fuckin' torturous for me..."

One palm slid up from your hip to palm a generous handful of your ass, squeezing with indelicate possession that had you whimpering brokenly into the charged space between your fevered forms. There was simply no mistaking the raw, rapacious nature of Bokuto's desire any longer - it radiated off him in cresting waves of molten sin and domineering command.

"So no more games, no more pretty lil' distractions, yeah?" The silky heat of his mouth ghosted up to trail the delicate whorls of your ear as he spoke, voice gone gravelly and utterly compromising in its carnal promise. "Why don't you be a good girl and show me just how bad you need this wild ride to start already..."

Bokuto didn't bother waiting for your breathless assent before his hands were seizing your hips in a vice-like grip that stole what little remained of your composure. One dizzying spin later and you found yourself pinned between the immovable force of his hulking frame and the bathroom door he'd just propelled you both through.

"This ought to be secluded enough for our purposes, don'tcha think?" he rumbled out against the thundering pulse in your throat, tongue darting out to lap at the sweat beading along your fevered skin. "At least until I've had my first real taste of unwrapping you properly..."

You keened softly at the blatant insinuation, fingers scrabbling at the taut muscle of his shoulders for purchase as his hips angled forward to grind his insistent arousal against the juncture of your thighs tauntingly. The friction sent sparks of electric need shooting straight to your molten core so potently you saw stars momentarily.

"Mmm, fuck you sound delicious already, baby girl..." Bokuto practically growled against the vulnerable stretch of your throat where he mouthed hot, openmouthed kisses steadily downward. "And here I was thinking playing coy and innocent would be the biggest hurdle we'd have to conquer tonight."

One large, calloused palm drifted up to palm your breast through the flimsy silk barrier with unabashed possession. You whimpered at the rough caress, back arching instinctively to present your breasts in silent offering as he teased the rigid peak with the calloused pad of his thumb mercilessly.

"But nah...turns out that legendary sweet little temper of yours was always gonna pale beside this other absolutely ravenous side you've been keeping locked up tight from me, huh?"

His blazing amber gaze found yours once more - reflecting the same barely-bridled starvation surely shining from your own hooded stare as well. The intensity of it made your breath stutter in your chest as Bokuto ducked his chiseled features close until you could all but taste the crisp notes of his musky cologne on your tongue.

"Tell me, kitten..." he rasped out against the seam of your parted lips, finally pausing his thorough mapping of your quickening curves to level you with his full, overwhelming focus. "Does being the center of every last filthy fantasy spinning through my head right now make that greedy lil' pussy ache and throb the same way?"

You whimpered brokenly despite your best attempts at composure, the vulgar poetry of Bokuto's words uttered in that wrecked bass registering at a bone-deep level of bliss beyond even your most intoxicating dreams. Before you could so much as attempt reciprocating his bold impropriety, he surged forward again - all ferocious hunger and searing friction as his chiseled hips slotted into yours with bruising insistence.

"Gonna take that as a yes..." he growled against your swollen mouth, teeth nipping at your lower lip possessively before soothing the heated sting with velvet swirls of his tongue. "Don't you worry your pretty lil' head, though...we're gonna get this aching emptiness all squared away in a hot minute, baby. Just the two of us, the way it's been meant to be for a long fuckin' time now, yeah?"

In a dizzying flurry of motion, Bokuto suddenly banded both powerful forearms beneath your thighs and hitched you clear off your feet with a low, satisfied grunt. You cried out at the new precarious angle and the way it left you utterly exposed and spread wide around his thighs, pussy already slickening in desperation against the rigid heat branding your intimate flesh.

"After all..." he continued in that dark, carnal tone that seemed to reverberate through every straining tendon and bone betwixt your frantic forms. "What's the point of giving in to this if I don't intend to fully enjoy myself with you, pretty?"

You choked on a wanton whimper as Bokuto punctuated that decadent promise by grinding up into you sharply - his cock dragging against your drenched folds with devastating friction. One hand left your thigh to grasp your jaw in a punishing grip, angling your features up to receive the full force of his heated intensity unobstructed.

"Open up for me, pretty girl..." he growled when you managed to flutter your eyes back open in a daze. "Got something else I'm just dyin' to unwrap for you now that we're all alone..."

Bokuto paused for emphasis, casting you a downright lascivious grin filled with dark promise as one thumb traced the plump curve of your lower lip deliberately. The vulgar implications danced behind his heavy-lidded stare, lighting fresh trails of heady desire licking through your veins like wildfire.

He snared your dazed focus and simply held it captive for several ragged heartbeats as his grin bled slowly into something fiercer, more predatory. Then with his next words the final threads of your restraint splintered into dust at last:

"Been practicing on how best to use these fangs on your sweet lil' body for weeks now, pretty thing..." Bokuto rumbled with liquid sin sewn through every syllable. "Wanna show you just how sharp they are and how fucking good I can make you feel when you finally give yourself over to me, yeah?"

You shuddered against him at the blatant insinuations woven into the carnal tapestry of his offer. It took an inordinate amount of effort to peel your tongue away from the roof of your mouth and shape the breathless, fervent words clawing their way free from the back of your throat:

"Yes please...!"

Bokuto's answering groan was a thing of pure animal hunger as he sealed his lips against yours once more. One large, calloused palm braced the nape of your neck, holding you fast in place as he ravished your mouth with a ravenous intensity that made you see stars. You whimpered brokenly as his tongue traced the seam of your mouth before delving inside to map every secret crevice and corner with shameless urgency.

You gave as good as you got in the fervent exchange, nails scrabbling at the corded strength of his broad shoulders as you attempted to press impossibly closer. His cock throbbed hot and heavy against your inner thigh as he licked into your mouth like he intended to claim it for his own with each decadent stroke.

It was the sort of kiss you'd only dared dream of for far too long - deep, dizzying, and utterly overwhelming in the best possible sense. Bokuto kissed you like a man starving for his very next breath - devouring you whole and relishing every last delectable morsel until nothing remained except the most exquisite, unquenchable craving for more.

"Fuck, that's it..." he rumbled out against your trembling mouth after breaking the kiss for air. His fangs dragged over the tender skin of your lower lip tauntingly as his scorching gaze bored into you with predatory intent. "Knew you'd be the sweetest fucking treat I've ever tasted, baby girl..."

Your whimper turned into a full-throated cry when his mouth dipped lower and began laying claim to the sensitive curve of your throat once more. Those fangs nipped and teased and suckled at the delicate skin until your entire body was strung tight as a bowstring in his unrelenting grip.

Then without warning, the flat of his tongue slicked a decadent path up the straining column of your throat. You shivered with pleasure when the rasping sensation registered on your hypersensitized nerves - the subtle scrape of his stubble leaving goosebumps in its wake as he lapped up every last drop of sweat dotting your skin.

"Oh fuck..." you moaned hoarsely, hips rocking forward in search of friction. "Kou, please—"

"Gotta mark you up first, baby." His graveled reply ghosted over the hollow of your throat, sending the fine hairs along the back of your neck standing on end. "Need everyone to know exactly who you belong to after tonight."

Then before you could manage a response, Bokuto's teeth sank into the tender stretch of flesh directly over your pulse point.

The sudden pain was a searing shock, stealing the air from your lungs in a gasp. It took you a moment to register the low, rumbling growl reverberating through Bokuto's chest as he sucked and lapped at the bite. He pulled away just enough to lap at the reddened skin and soothe the lingering sting, and then his lips were sealed against your throat once more - suckling and scraping and marking until a full-body shudder wracked your fevered form.

"There..." he rasped against the shell of your ear, breath fanning across the tender, sweat-dampened flesh. "That’s just one of many marks I'm gonna leave behind after tonight, kitten."

The low, graveled cadence of his voice sent a thrill shooting straight to your core as you sagged forward into his embrace. Bokuto shifted his grip, allowing the full length of your torso to mold against his as he continued his decadent worship. Your arms twined around his neck to anchor yourself against the relentless waves of pleasure crashing through you.

"So much more to go before I'm done with you, baby." He nipped and sucked his way down to the slope of your breasts, hands kneading and caressing the ample flesh. "But I think it's time we get started unwrapping you properly now."

One hand snaked around to your lower back and tugged at the knot. It fell away easily, allowing the sleeves to flutter loose around the swell of your shoulders. You bit back a moan at the feel of his lips curving against your skin as he pressed an openmouthed kiss directly over the frantic pulse fluttering just beneath the surface.

"There's my perfect girl..." Bokuto rumbled low as he reached around to peel the garment down just beneath the swell of your breasts. "Show me those gorgeous tits now, sweetheart..."

You keened weakly as he pulled away, allowing you to shift back against the wall and arch your back. Your hands trailed down to the thin fabric still bunched around your waist, but before you could make a move Bokuto was there - one hand wrapping around your wrist to still the motion.

"Nuh uh, baby..." His molten gaze raked over the generous curve of your exposed chest and the stiff peaks of your nipples with ravenous hunger. "Lemme do the honors. You've been driving me crazy with the teasing for long enough already."

Bokuto released your wrist and reached forward. He grasped the silk and eased it down until it fell to a puddle of satin at your feet. Your breath hitched at the sudden chill washing over the freshly exposed skin, only to have your thoughts derailed by the sound of Bokuto's low, drawn-out whistle.

"Fuck..." His voice had gone thick with blatant appreciation as his amber stare raked over every exposed inch. "And here I thought that skimpy pink number you wore for the team's New Year's party was gonna be the one I'd finally lose my shit over."

One large, calloused palm slid up the smooth curve of your belly to cup your breast with possessive hunger. You shuddered at the rough friction, back arching into his touch with shameless eagerness. Bokuto grinned with a low, approving chuckle as his other hand drifted to mirror its counterpart.

"But damn, kitten...gotta say that this is definitely a close second." He tweaked and teased the tender flesh until your thighs were trembling with desperation. "So fuckin' soft and pretty. I'm gonna have the time of my life burying my face in 'em, baby girl."

Bokuto punctuated his decadent declaration with a sharp, deliberate squeeze that had you whimpering aloud. Then his mouth was upon you, teeth scraping over the taut buds until the sting registered as a bolt of white-hot pleasure searing straight to your core. You keened brokenly, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck to urge him on.

"Kou, please..."

"Please what, sweetheart?" His breath ghosted hot and damp against the underside of your breast as his mouth trailed lower. "Want me to keep sucking these sweet lil' tits 'til I've had my fill?"

He pinched the pebbled peaks between his thumbs and forefingers and gave them a slow, torturous twist that had your legs shaking on the spot. His eyes darted up to capture your hazy, feverish stare in their blazing heat, and then his lips curled up into a devilish grin.

"Or are you ready for me to show you how fucking good it's gonna feel when I'm eating this greedy pussy instead?"

The sheer obscenity of his words combined with the slow, deliberate grind of his hips against yours made you see stars. He was so hard against you, so insistent and aching and thick—

"Y-yes...oh god, Kou...please!"

Your response was a desperate, broken cry - half-whimper, half-moan as you clung to him desperately. He smirked against your flushed skin and rewarded you with a final, teasing lick before releasing the abused peak with a wet pop. Then his molten amber gaze found yours, and the predatory promise burning within it sent a delicious thrill dancing along your spine.

"Well, since you asked so nicely, pretty girl..."

Before you could so much as draw another breath, Bokuto was hooking both arms around your thighs and hoisting you clear off your feet in a dizzying, breathless rush. He spun on his heel and took three purposeful strides forward, then paused just long enough to deposit you unceremoniously atop the bathroom countertop.

The marble surface was cool against the heated flush of your bare skin, sending a shudder racing through you. Before you could regain your bearings, Bokuto's palms were skating along your calves and trailing up to the backs of your knees, coaxing them wider and wider until they were splayed wide around his broad frame.

"Fuck, baby girl...that's a helluva view..." he rumbled in approval, hands skimming further upwards to cup the backs of your thighs and squeeze possessively. "Been dreaming about this pretty pussy for way too fucking long now."

You moaned when his thumbs traced the sensitive juncture of thigh and pelvis, so close and yet so far away from where you were throbbing and aching and needy. Then he was ducking his head to the crook of your inner thigh and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the salty, quivering flesh.

"Think I'll start by seeing if I can make you cream all over these fingers while I'm getting this sweet cunt nice and wet, baby..."

The dark, carnal promise sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to your clit. Bokuto's teeth scraped over the delicate skin, tongue tracing patterns over the sensitive expanse as his hands urged your legs further apart. The cool air of the bathroom made you shiver as he mouthed his way towards your soaked core.

"Kou, p-please..."

Your pleas died on a shattered moan when he suddenly leaned in and licked a decadent, filthy swipe over your clothedpussy. The rasp of his tongue over the thin, drenched fabric left you writhing, fingers scrabbling against the countertop for purchase as his fingers dug bruises into your quivering thighs.

"Gotta get my dessert, baby..." he rasped, breath fanning over your sensitive flesh and leaving you whimpering. "Don't wanna waste a single drop."

The next thing you knew, he was yanking your thong to the side and diving between your spread legs with a low, satisfied groan.

His tongue traced the crease of your inner thigh for the briefest moment, only to dart straight up to the swollen nub of your clit the next. You keened at the sudden onslaught, head lolling back against the mirror behind you with a breathless sob.

"Oh god...!"

Bokuto growled with feral approval as he licked and suckled and teased at the bundle of nerves with unerring accuracy. Each stroke of his tongue was a sinfully decadent combination of rough and smooth and so, so wet - dragging across the hypersensitive skin with the most exquisite friction.

He laved the flat of his tongue in broad strokes that had you squirming helplessly. You cried out when the tip flicked and curled and stroked against your throbbing clit until you were panting and writhing, thighs quaking around his shoulders.

Bokuto didn't stop there, though. He was ravenous in his pursuit, devouring your pussy like it was the best fucking meal he'd ever had. One hand released your thigh, and then his fingers were parting the swollen folds to delve deeper still. You choked on a broken moan when the first two plunged into the molten depths of your aching core with ruthless abandon.

"So fucking wet and tight for me already, baby girl..."

Those long, thick digits curled up and hit a spot deep within you that made you see stars. He began stroking, massaging the tender patch with each thrust. His other hand snaked around the inside of your thigh and dragged over the swollen nub of your clit.

The double stimulation sent a jolt of electricity shooting straight through you, and before you could even register it your muscles were clamping down around him in a sudden, powerful release.

Bokuto groaned as your release spilled out over his fingers and drenched the countertop. He didn't slow his pace, though. If anything, he increased the speed of his thrusts - pistoning in and out of your sopping wet channel with a lewd, wet squelching noise. His tongue circled and flicked and teased until the aftershocks gave way to a new, fresh wave of pleasure that had you keening aloud.

"That's it, baby girl..." Bokuto crooned, pulling away to pepper messy kisses along the crease of your thigh. His fingers slowed, but didn't stop their unrelenting assault. "God, look at how fucking good you taste...gonna need seconds soon."

The vulgar promise had you moaning, fingers digging into the short strands of his hair and tugging insistently. He chuckled darkly, lips curling against the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh before he sank his fangs into the plush give and sucked with a low, satisfied groan.

"Ahh!"

It was too much - the rough drag of his tongue and the scrape of his stubble against your quivering thighs, the way his fingers curled and scissored and spread the walls of your core until you were dripping and stretched wide. The sensation of his fangs buried deep in the delicate skin was a delicious, decadent agony that had you arching up from the countertop with a strangled cry.

"Fuck, so pretty for me..."

Bokuto's husky murmur sounded muffled and distant to your ears, the words distorted by the haze of pleasure clouding your senses. He lapped up the last drops of your release, tongue circling and teasing over the swollen, throbbing nub once more. Your legs jerked, inner muscles clamping down on his fingers with a renewed urgency.

"Kou...need more..."

Your voice was a wrecked, broken plea, barely recognizable to your own ears. Your fingers tightened in his hair, nails digging into his scalp until a low, feral growl vibrated through the taut line of his back.

"Need what, baby? Tell me what you need, and it's all yours."

Bokuto withdrew his fingers slowly, only to add a third alongside them. The extra stretch had you whimpering, eyes squeezing shut as the overwhelming fullness registered in your fevered senses. His thumb pressed against your clit, circling and stroking in a rough, relentless rhythm as his fingers drove into you over and over and over again.

"C'mon, sweetheart...tell me what you need."

Bokuto pulled away, his breath fanning over your sopping entrance as he crooked his fingers in a 'come-hither' motion. He knew exactly what he was doing, and the knowledge sent a fresh surge of arousal pooling between your legs. You bucked your hips, desperate for more of that delicious friction that had your thighs quaking and toes curling.

"Y-Your cock, Kou..." you managed on a broken moan, head tossing back as the sensations began to overwhelm you. "Please...need you so fucking bad, please—!"

The next thing you knew, his hands were hooking beneath your knees and pushing them against your chest. Bokuto's body blanketed yours, his thick, muscular form pressing you back against the countertop in an intoxicating cage of heat and hard muscle. His hips rocked forward, the thick ridge of his clothed cock grinding against your exposed, throbbing core with delicious friction.

"I gotcha, baby girl...gonna give it to you real good now, okay?"

His low, graveled rasp ghosted hot and damp against the shell of your ear before he pressed a searing kiss to the curve of your throat. You whined in agreement, hands grasping and groping at his back as your hips jerked up in search of friction. Bokuto rumbled his approval, one hand reaching between your bodies to free himself from his pants.

Then he was guiding the blunt, weeping tip of his cock against your drenched opening. The slick, smooth glide was an agonizing sort of perfection as he pressed forward - each inch a torturous blend of bliss and burning fullness that left you trembling and gasping for breath.

"Too…big..."

The words escaped on a choked, ragged sob. Your fingers scrabbled against the broad expanse of his shoulders, the stretch bordering on painful. It felt like you were being split in two, the sensation only magnified by the way his fingers were gripping your thighs so hard you were sure they would leave behind the faint imprint of his fingertips.

"Easy, sweetheart...you're taking me so fucking good right now..." Bokuto rasped against the side of your throat, the words coming out in a strained, guttural snarl. "Feel so damn perfect...fuck, I'm not gonna last long like this..."

You whimpered, thighs quivering reflexively at the strain as you willed yourself to relax. The burn was easing a little, though not by much. Bokuto pressed his face against the curve of your shoulder, teeth sinking into the tender flesh with a low, feral groan as he sheathed himself inside you completely.

"You're so goddamn tight, baby girl..."

There was a breathless, reverent note to his words that belied the carnal desperation lurking just beneath the surface. His hips shifted, and then he was moving - drawing back slowly before plunging forward in a single, sharp thrust that made you both see stars.

"Holy shit..."

The hoarse, guttural expletive fell from his lips on a harsh, ragged exhale as his grip tightened on your thighs. Bokuto's movements were a study in contradictions - each stroke measured and controlled, his movements almost leisurely in their pace. Yet there was a tension thrumming through him, the raw, primal hunger simmering beneath the surface betrayed by the way his fingers were leaving bruises in their wake.

"Fuck, Kou...! So fucking good...!"

You keened the words as your body adjusted, the sting giving way to a molten, throbbing heat. You were so full, so deliciously stretched and filled and used - every thrust a torturous blend of agony and ecstasy that had you seeing stars.

Bokuto was relentless in his pursuit, and you couldn't have been more grateful. Each snap of his hips was harder and faster than the last, each thrust accompanied by a low, guttural snarl that told you he was holding back.

"That's it, kitten...just a little bit more..."

The words were a low, filthy rumble as he released one of your thighs to reach between your bodies and rest his palm flat against the quivering, flushed plane of your stomach. You whimpered, inner muscles clamping down around him in anticipation. His fingers pressed downward, and a fresh wave of pleasure flooded your veins when he found the thick ridge of his cock moving in and out of your core.

"Holy fuck, baby...you feel that?" Bokuto's mouth found your throat, fangs sinking into the flushed, salty skin with a feral snarl. "Feel how deep I am inside you, kitten?"

His words sent a thrill racing along your spine, your hips bucking up in answer. Then his thumb was grinding down against your clit and stroking, circling the bundle of nerves in a relentless, decadent assault that had you keening his name.

"Oh god, Kou...g-gonna cum, please, don't stop...!"

You were right there on the edge, the coil of pressure and heat tightening and tightening with each delicious thrust. Bokuto's hand shifted from the your stomach to the back of your thigh, angling you just so and forcing your leg wider.

"Let go for me, baby...wanna feel this pretty cunt cream all over my cock, understand?"

The words were a feral, snarling growl, his breath hot and damp against the curve of your shoulder. The next thing you knew, his hips snapped forward - driving into you at a brutal, unrelenting pace that had you keening, his cock dragging against that one spot with ruthless precision.

The coil within you snapped, and your release crashed through you in a white-hot, blinding wave. You screamed his name, back bowing up off the countertop in a sharp arch as the pleasure took over. Bokuto's snarl came from a place so deep within him that it sounded foreign, his hips jerking forward one final time before he buried himself inside you with a strangled groan.

His release spilled out into you in a scorching, wet rush, coating your walls and filling you until there was no room left. Bokuto's breath stuttered, the air hissing out between clenched teeth as his muscles seized and locked up.

The pair of you lay there, panting and dazed, for a long moment. When the tremors began to subside, Bokuto eased himself out slowly, hissing through his teeth when his cock slipped free and his release dribbled out over your quivering thighs.

You didn't have the energy to be embarrassed by the sight, nor the mess. Bokuto seemed unfazed, his amber eyes gleaming with a predatory satisfaction that had you shivering all over again.

"Well...I don't know about you, but I'm in the mood for a second course."

You moaned when his lips ghosted across the shell of your ear, the sound turning into a yelp when his arms tightened around you and swept you up off the countertop. Bokuto's answering chuckle was warm and low, his amber gaze burning into yours.

"Gonna feed you some more, baby girl...and then we're taking this back to my dorm, so I can get a proper taste. Sound good to you?"

All you could do was nod and wrap your arms around his neck, the ache between your legs flaring anew at the promise.

"Good. Because I'm nowhere near done with you yet."

[runnning-outof-time]

Hi! For the celebration, how about… “Do you know you’re bleeding?” with Tommy.

Maybe a more light hearted protective Tommy situation <3

Hi there, anon! Thanks for sending this in! I’m sorry it took a little bit for me to get to. I love me some protective Tommy! I hope you like what I did with the prompt. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

An Unfortunate Accident

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, blood

Word Count: 601

Summary: When Tommy finds (Y/N) injured after something silly happened to her, he immediately thinks the worst.

“Shit,” (Y/N) hissed as she quickly cradled her hand against her chest. She gritted her teeth as a surge of pain quickly shot down her arm. “Shit, shit, shit!”

She looked around the kitchen. There has to be something I can use to cover this, she thought to herself as the pain grew stronger. Footsteps sounded off the hardwood just as she managed to grab one of the dish towels sitting on the counter. A quick spin to face the archway told her that Tommy had entered the room. Shit.

“Hi, Tommy,” she tried to sound as nonchalant as possible as she greeted her husband. Her both hands were now hdiden behind her back, and she was placing as much pressure on her injury as possible. “You’re home early,” she commented sheepishly.

“Not really,” he answered, his brows furrowing slightly as he took in the sight of her. “What’s happened?” he asked her then, closing the gap between them as worry seeped into his features. Between her frazzled state and how things looked, his mind was starting to create several scenarios.

“What?” her question came out like a breath, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Do you know you’re bleeding?” he asked.

“I’m not,” she dismissed him, speaking a little too quickly for her liking.

“You are. It’s all over your dress, love,” he answered, motioning to the article of clothing. (Y/N) quickly looked down to see that the front of her dress was indeed stained crimson. A sigh left her lips. “So tell me the truth. What happened?” he asked again, his voice level, his tone one that she couldn’t argue with.

“You’re going to laugh,” she sighed, her sheepishness returning.

“I’m not,” he assured her with a slight shake of his head, his eyes still focused on her.

(Y/N) held his gaze for a few moments, still weighing it all out in her mind. Tommy kept his eyes on her, his eyebrows raising after a few seconds of silence had passed - his nonverbal way of saying ‘I’m waiting’.

One more sigh escaped her lips before she finally brought her (now blood-stained) cloth-covered hand back into view. “I, uh…I was chopping some of the vegetables, and a bird flew into the window. The bang it made scared me and my hand slipped. I sliced my finger pretty good.”

“A bird?” Tommy questioned, incredulousness seeping into his words. His eyes left hers, albeit for a moment, to glance out the window…as if said bird was still going to be hovering there.

“Yes, a bloody bird,” (Y/N) answered, a dire earnestness present in her voice. She watched her husband’s face carefully, waiting for what she knew would becoming. The second she saw his lips twitch, she jumped on him. “You said you weren’t going to laugh!” she exclaimed.

“I’m not laughing!” he defended himself, although he couldn’t help but let a few chuckles out. This made (Y/N) glare at him, and she smacked him on the chest without thinking.

“Ow! Fuck. Tommy!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with pain.

“Didn’t quite think that one through, eh?” he questioned with a chuckle. (Y/N) couldn’t even be mad at him…he was right. “Lemme see it,” he said then, coaxing her to show him her injured hand.

It took a few moments, but she showed it to him. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked, cringing at the sight of it.

“I’ve seen worse,” he answered, glancing up at her to send a smile before focusing on her hand again, “let’s get it cleaned up.”

*tags in reblog so that hopefully they get sent out.

MASTERLIST

[blimpintime]

cursed : azriel x reader

in which azriel has a crush on a witch, and thinks she cursed him.

warnings: none (unedited)

word count: 1.4k

“She’s quite the character huh?” Cassian says to Azriel, staring at you. He grunts in response wondering why you are currently in a handstand competition with a couple of kids in the middle of town. Kind of in awe how your little black dress didn't fall down to your face with you being upside down, but that's a perk of being a witch, he thinks. 

As if you heard them talking about you, your gaze finds theirs. You grin and then lose balance and gracefully fall out of the handstand. It being the last day of summer did make it a cool one but still having been outside with a summer camp of kids you were quite dewy with sweat. Your face was flushed and damp as you made your way towards the two men. 

“Hi Cassian!” You say with a grin, you turn and look at Azriel, your smile falling into a smaller one. “Spymaster.” You nod. Cassian lets a chuckle slip through at Az’s blank face. You were always like this with him. He never fully understood why. You kept him at a distance always but managed to be involved in every one else’s business. He often thought it was because you could not stand him. And then he thought you were terrified of him, because let’s face it, that was more believable.

You were making small talk with Cassian when Azriel started to get lost in his mind thinking of you and how it seemed you teased him on occasion. With your little quips here and there. Constantly smelling like those fresh baked chocolate-chip muffins that were his guilty pleasure to eat when he got back from long missions

He noticed eventually that Cassian had walked away from you two when a group of kids started playing tag with him. He turned to look at you where you decided to sit on the grass, he made a quick decision to sit next to you. Both of you were silent, but for once it was comfortable.

The path leading up to your small little house on the bank of the Sidra was always well lit at night. Glowing with purple and orange lanterns their reflection makes it seem brighter than it was that night. Your house was on the smaller side (still fairly large all considering.) But you loved to host seasonal parties due to them being in connection with your magic and since summer was ending and fall was starting, it was the perfect time to throw one of your celebrations. 

Currently the Inner Circle is in your living room drinking and eating food you have made for them. Your familiar, Silly the tabby cat, has made their home on Azriel’s lap. He doesn’t seem to mind though. Gently petting the cat's soft fur. You stare at them from the kitchen with a soft smile on your face. 

“You could just tell him you know.” Nesta says from behind you, scaring the absolute shit out of you. You place a hand over your chest and let out a deep breath. “Nesta, I’m going to put a bell on you.” She laughs lightly as you scrunch up your nose. 

“I am not joking though.” She says softly, and you look back at him now playing with Silly on the couch. “He can’t even stand to be in the same room as me for more than ten minutes. There is no way I could tell him how I feel.” She hums in response. 

“I think you’d be surprised.” And then she walks back out to sit with Cassian. You did deeply care about Azriel, borderline loved him. You felt connected to him in a way you couldn’t describe, just that your soul was at peace with him. Your magic proved that theory too. It sometimes appears to you in colorful hazes around people. 

Every color had a different meaning, the majority of the Inner Circle had a warm orange around them. Your magic had to be newer or just not have a written history because there is barely any research on what these colors mean.  However, you chalked it up to orange meaning some of the most important people in your life. Azriel though, he had a beautiful blue humming around him almost constantly for you, and you had no idea what that meant.

You must have been lost in thought for a while because the next person to scare you was Rhys with Nyx on his hip. He was building another plate for Feyre and Nyx to pick off of. 

“You okay?” He asked you softly. Nyx’s grubby hands reaching for the fresh food on the plate, you and Rhys both grin at that. You nod your head in response to his earlier question. 

“Maybe ask him to hang out with you?” He says, like it's that easy. You shake your head, “I don’t know about that.” 

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to try.” You watch him leave the kitchen and decide it's time to do the same. 

You follow Rhys back into your living space, where it's warm of laughter and love. You sit down on the only open seat, which happens to be on the couch next to Azriel. Silly runs over to your lap and demands petting. You look down at the orange cat with love and when you look back up you meet Azriel’s puzzled stare.

“What?” You ask him softly, nudging the cat off your lap gently. You turn to fully face him when he abruptly stands up. He grabs your arm and pulls you towards the outside. 

“We will be back.” He says gruffly towards everybody, dragging you along.

“Please for the love of Mother, take your time.” Cassian says with a cheeky grin, “We have bets placed.” to which earns him a vulgar gesture from both you and Azriel.

When you go outside he drags you closer to the river and further from the house. Probably to avoid prying ears and eyes, but with everyone’s magic you go ahead and place a sound proofing spell over the two of you.

“Is everything alright Azriel?” You ask him after a moment of silence. He turns back around to look at you with something close to… fear?  

“So, what is it?” You look at him deadpanned and tilt your head in confusion.

“What spell did you place on me? Why, when I go to sleep I think about how I hope you had a good day. When I wake up I wonder if you actually ate breakfast and not forgetting after you have your morning coffee. And tonight, I wonder where you go when this party is mainly in celebration for you and I am busy playing with your cat and not with you.” He gets out in one breath. I stare at him for a moment and when I open my mouth he interrupts me again,

“Why is it when you are near my hands shake less and my worries ease but when you are gone I crave your scent. What curse? What spell?” Azriel genuinely looks shaken for a moment, and for a second so do you. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way too, Azriel.” You say and approach him with a soft smile. When you guys finally make eye contact though something inside you both, snaps. Your eyes widen and so do his. Mate.

You let out a little giggle that eventually turns into a full laugh. “You thought I cursed you?” You say through giggles, “I thought you hated me Az.” 

“Ah, well that goes both ways.” He responded with a smile. You look at him in confusion. “I could never hate you.”

“You couldn’t stand to be near me.” He quips back.

“No. You couldn’t stand to be near me.” You say and jokingly sniff at him. He shakes his head and grins. “We are both stupid.” You nod your head in agreement. 

“A couple of stupid mates, huh.” You look up at him, now leaning shoulder to shoulder. 

“Yeah something like that.” And then he kisses you. 

Warm lips slotting over yours softly, you both start getting a little more heated with each other. Hands finding their way into your hair while yours go around his neck. His lips softly biting yours and then pulling away. You arch and reach up on your tiptoes in a feat of chasing his lips. He grins at you, puts his hands on your cheeks and kisses your nose. 

“Let’s go back inside.” He whispers and leans back, as if he’s afraid that this will all be a dream if one of you speaks too loudly.

“I am kicking everyone out the minute we get back inside.” You whisper back and kiss his collar bone. 

“That sounds great to me.” he says and with that you both walk back to your house holding hands. 

a/n: so this was completely self indulgent, I wanted a cozy azriel fic!

please tell me what you think!

I don't own any characters that sarah j. mass created.

[arieslost]

cinnamon whiskey | ln4

lando norris x fem!writer!reader

summary: you meet a famous race car driver in one of the last places you’d expect— the adirondacks.

word count: 4,578

warnings: drinking, minor injuries (small description of bruising)

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

Your editor was going to kill you.

Every day brought you closer to the deadline for your manuscript, and every day you could hardly help yourself out in getting to your self-imposed goal of 1,000 words. It wasn’t a difficult feat; you’d done it before, and you didn’t have anything else to be doing. You had absolutely zero distractions: it was just you, your notebook, and your computer. There was only one problem.

The words just weren’t coming to you, and you’d already gotten a two week extension on the deadline. It felt like all your writing abilities had been rescinded.

“I’m screwed.” You professed to your best friend, falling into a pathetic heap on her couch. You needed a serious pick-me-up after struggling to write a measly paragraph, and she had readily offered a girls night.

“I think you’re being a little dramatic. Scoot over.” She replied, shoving your legs out of the way so she could sit. “Maybe you just need to get out of your house.”

“And go where? I can’t just pack up and take a vacation right now.” You grumbled into the couch cushion.

“Why don’t you go upstate?” She suggested after a moment of silence.

“Upstate?” You repeated.

“Yeah, go to the Adirondacks. My dad owns a house up there, remember? We had a blast the last time we were there.”

You and your best friend had gone up to the Adirondacks when you graduated college, and you always prefaced the retelling of it with, “It was one of the best weeks of my life.” You almost felt silly for not thinking of doing something like that in the first place.

“It might be a good idea… Do you think your dad would be okay with me staying there?”

Your best friend laughed. “Yes, you idiot. He’s let me stay there by myself, he’ll definitely let you.”

A mere 24 hours went by, and you were settled in a cozy cabin in the Adirondacks with the desperate hope of having the rest of your manuscript ready by the end of your stay. Otherwise, you might as well just fire yourself and save your editor some time.

It wasn’t the only cabin in the area– it was more like a very small community made up of six houses built exactly the same. The area was usually used by people with a decent amount of cash lining their pockets, so you were extra grateful to your best friend’s father. He had taken one look at the dejection on your face when your best friend had mentioned her grand idea, and simply handed you the keys with the promise that your stay would be free of charge.

You did feel a little out of place, though– you could have sworn one of your neighbors was in a movie you’d just watched, and another one was just so ridiculously attractive there was no way he wasn’t famous for something. You’d seen him out on his front porch when you arrived, and had to force yourself not to stare or salivate over his bare torso.

The change of scenery around you helped tremendously. At first. You always felt refreshed when you went somewhere new, particularly if it was somewhere you felt more connected to nature. You had gotten into the habit of taking walks to calm yourself when you got frustrated, and having new sights was definitely an exciting prospect for when you inevitably slammed your computer shut and stormed out the door like you just did a few moments ago.

You’ll be the first to admit it: the story just isn’t coming together. Your main character has a goal, a purpose, but she is entirely lacking any kind of driving force to get where she needs to go.

She has no motivation.

You can appreciate irony, but there’s nothing funny about it right now.

The dirt and leaves crunch under your feet as you walk down the first trail that you see. It branches off from the main path that runs between all of the houses: yours, the attractive guy’s, and one other, and then the suspected movie star’s and the other two on the other side. Right now, you just want to see nothing but the path before you, the trees in your peripheral vision, the gentle summer breeze in your hair, and maybe a chipmunk or a squirrel here and there.

But, of course, you can’t even have that. You’re alone with your thoughts for all of two seconds before you hear a crash off to your left that sends a few birds flying. You would have ignored it if not for the groan that immediately followed.

“Um… hello?” You call out, doubling back to try and see just what the hell had happened.

If you were in a horror movie, this would most certainly be your death scene.

“Ah…” It’s definitely a man, and he definitely sounds like he’s in pain.

“Are you okay?” You step off the path, getting closer to where the noise had come from.

That’s where you find him— your insanely attractive neighbor, practically in the fetal position, entirely focused on the camera in his hand. His jaw is clenched, whether in pain or concern for the camera, you don’t know. You just know he has a sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and curly hair.

Ugh, you could cry because he’s so good looking.

He looks up at you, eyes meeting yours, and he has the decency to look embarrassed.

“What the hell just happened to you?”

“I, um… I fell out of that tree.” He confesses, pointing to a branch, not too high up, but now dangling in half.

“And you were in the tree because…” You trail off, gesturing for him to explain further.

“Right, well, I was taking pictures and had an idea for a good one from a higher vantage point, so I climbed the tree. Thought I had a good balance, but—” He winces as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I didn’t.”

“No kidding. You’re lucky you didn’t break anything.” You marvel, hands held out in front of you just in case he falls over when he starts standing up.

“I’m not too sure about that.” He huffs out a pained laugh.

“You wouldn’t have been able to stand up so easily if you had, and your wrist and shoulder look fine.” You point out. “I have no doubt that you bruised your side up pretty badly though.”

“Yeah? How would you know?” He leans against the tree he just fell out of, his miraculously unbroken camera hanging from the strap around his neck.

“I’m a writer. I’m like a black hole of useless information.”

“I don’t think it’s useless anymore.” He takes a step forward and his face immediately contorts into a grimace. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, you’ve already asked so much of me, but if you really have to, then sure.” You tease, and he laughs again.

“I’m probably going to need some help getting back to the house,” he begins, and then continues after taking in the surprised look on your face. “But you don’t have to. I can just crawl or something. Maybe I’ll get lucky and make it back before nightfall.”

Not just attractive, but funny too? You might as well make the most out of these two weeks and use whatever you can to help you finish that dreaded manuscript. Besides, the only other person you’ve ever met who can hold a torch to your sense of humor is your best friend. This has to be a sign of some sort.

“Alright, but at least tell me your name first.”

His name is Lando, you’ve known him for an hour, and you think you’re in love with him.

Sure, you’re frustrated that he completely ruined the solitude that you craved, but the ice maker in his house is broken and he desperately needs some for the bruise that you know is darkening by the second underneath his t-shirt. So he’s sprawled out on your couch, and you’re in the kitchen collecting ice cubes to wrap up in a hand towel.

“Alright, lift your shirt up,” you instruct, walking into the living room and taking a seat beside him.

“I usually take a girl out before I let her see me half naked.”

“But it’s okay if everyone else sees you out on your porch half naked?”

“You were looking?” He tilts his head down a little and raises his eyebrows. “Liked what you saw, did you?”

You blush. “Just shut up and lift your shirt.”

He hums a little to himself as he pulls his shirt up, revealing the beginnings of a bruise on his tan skin that is already swollen and definitely going to get worse over the next couple of days. It looks like it continues below the waistband of his boxers, but you’re not about to tell him to pull his pants down.

“That’s ugly.”

“I’ve had worse.” He shrugs, biting his lip when you gently rest the makeshift ice pack against his side.

“You have a habit of falling out of trees?”

“I have a habit of being in potentially life-threatening situations. It’s kinda part of my job.” He says it like he’s waiting for you to figure something out, waiting for something to click.

You take a moment to just look at him again. His fluffy curls, his infuriatingly handsome face, his thick neck, his toned stomach. And then something you’ve heard your best friend say a million times echoes in your head.

I bet every F1 driver’s contract has a clause that says they have to be hot in order to get in. I mean, you have Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc, and don’t even get me started on–

“Oh my God. Lando Norris?” You exclaim, almost jumping up from shock but stopping yourself so you don’t jostle him. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I thought you knew!”

You glare at him. “Cocky much?”

“Well, what did you think when I told you my name?” He asks defensively.

“I don’t know, I thought your parents really liked Star Wars or something.”

He scoffs at this and smacks your hand away, holding the ice himself. “That’s real creative.”

“I’m sorry! My best friend is really into Formula One, but the most I’ve seen is bits and pieces of a race. I’ve never seen you, y’know, not in your car.” You feel like your eyes are practically bugging out of your head. “Wow, this is insane.” You knew he was too good looking to not be famous.

“Want me to sign something for you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“I will punch you right in your bruise.”

He stays for a couple more hours, readily enduring your endless stream of questions that follow your revelation of him being a Formula One driver, only getting a reprieve when the ice melts and you have to go get more.

He compensates for recounting his entire journey to Formula One by asking you his own questions the moment he’s done. You tell him more about how you became a writer– how you got your bachelor’s degree, got out into the world, and realized you had no clue what you wanted to do with your life, so you took a retail job. It paid a dollar above minimum wage, but it was worth it when something you heard a customer say once inspired you to craft a narrative that your editor liked enough to pick it up. She’d taken a gamble on you; you were her fourth client and the book wasn’t finished yet.

“So that’s why I’m out here,” you pause to catch your breath. “I need to have the manuscript done two weeks from yesterday, and I wasn’t getting anything done at home.”

“Needed a change of scenery.” Lando nods, like he can read your mind.

“Exactly.” You say quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious under his intense gaze but refusing to look away.

The energy in the room shifts as the two of you look at each other, and you break the sudden eye contact when you take note of the fact that it’s dark out.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he breaks the silence, pulling his shirt back down and letting out a quiet groan as he gets up. “I’ll see you tomorrow? There’s no way someone will be able to get up here to fix my ice machine by the morning.”

You blink at him a couple times, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you just spent hours talking with Lando Norris, all because he fell out of a tree. You didn’t even offer to make him dinner or anything, and he’s making plans to do this all over again.

You still haven’t spoken, so he waves his hand in front of your face. “Oh! Yeah, of course. Be careful, okay?”

He gives you an obnoxious salute. “I’ll try to survive the 50 steps it takes to get to my place from here.”

You go running for your laptop and start writing as soon as he’s gone.

He’s at your door in the morning, and spends the whole day with you. Then the next, and the next, and the next thing you know, you only have four days left in your best friend’s dad’s house and it feels like you and Lando have known each other your entire lives. He isn’t able to do much in terms of physical activity, and when he trips over a root after insisting he’s fine you make the executive decision to go back to your house.

“Make some room, would you?” You sigh, looking for a place to sit thanks to the fact that he’s taking up the entire couch.

He simply lifts his head up.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m in pain. Don’t you want me to be comfortable?” He pouts at you.

“You’re insufferable, and a liar.” All the same, you sit down, and he rests his head in your lap.

He ignores you, eyes closed with a satisfied little smile on his face.

For his antics, you decide to disturb his newfound peace by putting the ice pack directly on his face and laugh when he bats it away.

“That’s just mean,” he whines, pressing his lips together when you put the ice on his bruise.

It’s mostly yellow and green now, like a weird rendition of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Lando had made a game out of poking it two nights ago that ended just as quickly when he poked himself too hard and blamed you for it when you had been in the middle of telling him not to. After that, he hadn’t touched it, and now it looks a lot better. The ice probably isn’t needed anymore, but you’d prefer to err on the side of caution.

“You’ll live,” you say now, patting the top of his head to distract him from the discomfort.

“The last time I had a bruise this bad was when I crashed in Vegas last year.” He says, blinking up at the ceiling. “Took a while to go away.”

“I think I remember hearing about that. You crashed pretty early, no?”

“Yup. Barely got to race.” The sentences come out very clipped, like he’s still upset about it.

“It was a bad crash, huh?”

“Pretty bad.” You don’t have anything to say in response to that, so you start brushing your fingers through his curls. He relaxes instantaneously.

He almost falls asleep with his head in your lap, and that’s when you can’t take it anymore and have to kick him out. He’s almost to the last step when he stops and turns back, making direct eye contact with you.

“Y’know, it’s too bad you weren’t there when I crashed.” He gives you a soft smile. “You’re pretty good at taking care of me.”

Well, shit.

There’s a bottle of cinnamon whiskey sitting in one of the kitchen cabinets that you’ve been waiting for an excuse to open. You should drink it now when you’re thinking about him, but you decide to wait until you see him again.

You open your laptop and write until you fall asleep.

By the time you let him in the next morning, you’re stumped again. You only slept for a few hours and expected to get right back into your groove the moment you woke up, but when you read over what you wrote last night, your brain just refused to comprehend it. It feels like you’re back to square one, but you can’t be too upset about it when Lando makes his way through the door. He doesn’t mention anything about ice like he usually does, which makes you equally happy and disappointed. Happy that he’s feeling good enough to forego the ice, disappointed because that means that there’s really no reason for him to come over anymore.

But if there’s one thing you can expect from him, it’s his spontaneity.

“We should go out tonight.”

“And where exactly would we be going?” You ask, watching him kick back on the couch like he’s the one that lives here.

“I dunno, just outside, I guess. You like stargazing?”

“I love it.” You reply enthusiastically. “I bet the stars are gorgeous out here. I’ve been cooped up every night, I haven’t had the chance to see them.”

“It’s settled then. Cancel your plans, you’re all mine tonight.”

“I didn’t— never mind.” You silently will away the flush creeping up your neck. “Actually, I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How’d those pictures come out? The ones you were trying to take when you fell?” You lean over the back of the couch in order to actually see him as you’re talking to him.

“That was two questions.” He laughs when you smack his shoulder. “I got a couple action shots as I was falling. They’re terrible, but I’m thinking about keeping them for the memories. Fun story for the kids, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” The kids?! You’re definitely breaking out the whiskey tonight. It’s the first (and only) thing you grab when he goes back to his place to get a blanket.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You ask the moment the two of you step onto the trail, and he puts a hand over his heart.

“Your concern for me is adorable.”

“I’m only asking because you almost ate shit last time.” You burst out laughing at the immediate change in his expression.

He ends up leading the way for a mile or two before you reach a clearing that you would’ve discovered had he not fallen out of the tree.

“This is beautiful,” you muse, taking in your surroundings as Lando lays the blanket on the ground.

The sun is just about set, a light breeze passing through; a few different wildflowers are waving throughout the clearing. You look around and can’t see any sign of civilization. While that should make you nervous, since you’re with a guy you’ve only known for less than two weeks, it instead makes you relax. You forget entirely about your computer waiting for you back at the house and busy yourself with getting the top off the whiskey bottle.

“Found it the second day I was here. I’ll have to show you the pictures I got once I upload them all.” Lando says, furrowing his eyebrows as you struggle with your task. “Need some help there?”

“Be my guest,” you hand it over and have to force yourself to remain calm when he pops the top off like it was nothing.

“Ladies first,” he hands it back.

With pleasure, you think to yourself. Maybe getting drunk will help you stop acting like a schoolgirl. You take a generous drink, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing out slowly. “That is strong.”

“Hand it over.” He lets out a low whistle as soon as he swallows and returns it to you. “Wow.”

“I actually had a dream like this once,” you say, wincing at the burn of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. “I was just laying there, staring at the stars, with no worries. It was so peaceful.”

Lando takes the bottle from your outstretched hand. “I don’t dream.”

“What?!” The high pitch of your voice slices through the night. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” He takes a long sip from the bottle before placing it down in the space between you. “Never have.”

“That’s- that’s crazy.” You shake your head.

“I’d think it’s nicer that way, no?” he counters. “I probably sleep better than you.”

“I mean, I guess. But then you don’t have any crazy dreams to share.”

“You always remember your dreams?”

Now, you blush. You’re not sure why you’re embarrassed. “I, um… I keep a journal.”

Lando’s eyes widen. “No way.”

“I have dreams written down all the way back to 2015.” You confess, reaching for the bottle again.

He starts laughing, like he thinks you’re joking.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, shoving his shoulder. “In my defense, I’ve actually come up with some ideas from my dreams. Fat lot of good they’re doing for me right now, but…”

Lando hums, eyes skimming over your now crestfallen expression. He passes the bottle back.

“Thanks,” you mumble, tilting the bottle up to your lips.

“I’m sure you’ll find some type of inspiration while we’re out here.”

“I only have two days left, Lan.”

He gestures for you to pass the bottle back, and you do. You watch as he takes a sip, looking from his lips, to his jaw, to his neck, to his Adam’s apple that bobs as he swallows. You’re really going to miss this view. He lets out a quiet hiss. “Damn, that’s strong whiskey.”

“I told you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, and then he speaks again. “My ice machine got fixed.”

“That’s—”

“Last week.” He cuts you off, doing that stupid thing he does where he stares directly into your eyes.

Your heart is in your throat, and your voice is small when you reply. “Okay…”

“And I was supposed to leave three days ago.”

Now your jaw drops. “Why… Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re still here.” He answers evenly, the alcohol clearly working in his favor. “I initially came here for the same reason as you– needed a change of scenery. It’s summer break right now, and my friend Logan told me it was super nice up here. It is, but then I had my little mishap and… it’s been a lot better since you showed up. So I decided to stay a little longer.”

He’s close to you now, so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath, so you say the only thing you can think to say. “I can’t believe you fell out of a tree.”

“I can’t believe you took care of me this whole time.” He brushes your hair out of your face, and his fingers linger on your cheek.

Your internal giddiness rises when you realize he’s actually about to kiss you. Your stomach is doing Olympic level gymnastics and you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you let the whiskey do it for you: you kiss him first.

You can’t remember the last time you kissed anyone, but the moment he pulls you on top of him you know that you won’t ever forget kissing him.

“Lan…” you break away from him to catch your breath, smoothing his curls back from his forehead. You can just see the glint in his eyes as he stares up at you, and it’s borderline painful knowing that you only get to enjoy this view for two more days.

You don’t remember what you were going to say to him. It’s way too soon for “I love you,” and not the right time to say “I already miss you.” You still want to say both.

Like he can hear your inner turmoil, he silences it by touching his forehead to yours. “Kiss me again, please,” he whispers.

You don’t waste a second in giving him what he wants, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips against yours again. You’re careful to avoid his side as he lays back on the blanket, keeping a firm grip on your hips so you don’t go anywhere. You try to convey everything you want to say into the kiss: I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I know I’m going to miss you. Please don’t let me go.

He holds you closer and gently slips his tongue into your mouth, and you melt into him, knowing the whole while that Lando Norris has effectively ruined all other men for you.

Six Months Later.

Your phone is ringing in the other room as you’re in the middle of recounting the kiss to your best friend for the millionth time.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” you apologize. “It might be important.”

Thinking it’s your editor, because who else would call you at this late hour, you don’t look at the caller ID before you answer. “Hi, listen, I wanted to talk to you about—”

“The love interest falls out of a tree, huh?”

Your mouth falls open. “Lando?”

“That would be me. Or should I change my name to Darren?”

You roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I thought you were never going to call me.”

You’d finished your manuscript the day before you went home. He’d been sleeping right next to you as you wrote the final words, and you should’ve brought it up that morning. Instead, you left your number on his porch the day you left, too deep in overthinking mode to actually face him and properly say goodbye. You truly didn’t expect him to call you after that act of such cowardice, especially after the two of you spent almost the entirety of your last days together at various levels of undress.

“I really wanted to,” he admits. “At least ten different times. I think Oscar might have assaulted me if I chickened out this time.”

“Yeah, because you won’t shut the hell up about her!” A voice in the background exclaims, and you hear something go flying.

“Get out!” Lando snaps, and you can hear Oscar’s laughter fading.

“Sweet of you to subject him to hearing all about me.”

“Come to the race at Silverstone.” He says before you can even finish your sentence. “I’ll pay for the flight, the hotel, everything. Just come.”

You feel like the floor just fell out from under your feet. “Lan—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” It’s said in a nearly unintelligible whisper, but his tone changes so suddenly you have to sit down.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” You confess. “That’s… kind of why I wrote you into my book.”

“Please, come to Silverstone,” he repeats, practically begging. “Come be with me.”

And when he finds you in the crowd after taking the win at his home race, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours for everyone to see, you’re immediately taken back to those two weeks you spent in the Adirondacks, where you finally found the inspiration you’d been missing your entire life.

note: this one goes out to my fellow writers who desperately wish their inspiration would fall out of a tree— writer’s block will never defeat us.

this got a little long, so if you’re reading this, thank you thank you thank you.

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @anathedivine @xfuckoffx @architect-2015 @violetiss3lfish @havaneselover08 @paigeworlds @whatever7justchillin @xoredmoonlightxo @dovieloovie @totowolffstablexoxo @maddie-bell @lalisgs11 @rrrraaaalllluuuu @formulasportworld @madisonbidaddy @anedpev @estherapz-blog @jess-wither @loveyatopluto @athena-artemis-dorian-gray @lou-larcher5 @clearlyabi @fizzpopsnap101 @fluerlaurent @mcmuppet @positiveaspirations @notturlover @crazymofo-96 @chanthereader @apollo-axolotl

[leonsgfpost]

note: hello, it's me again! This is the second part of my first post (you can find it on my profile). I'm sorry if this is too long or I made a mistake, I just lost my mind for Leon, you know? 🎀

tags: Leon RE2 x f!reader, smut, unprotected sex (please don't do it), creampie, oral (famele receiving), masturbation and more!

Weeks went by and he finally did it, it was the most embarrassing moment of his life.

He had approached with two coffees in his hands and a packet of those sweets he saw you eat at every break. Because yes, he was very attentive. You like the pastries bought at the bakery down the street and the coffee you usually drink bitter to counteract the sweetness of the pastry. After making an effort and putting the most awkward smile on his face, he got up the courage to ask you if you wanted to hang out. And lucky for him, you accepted. That day of the date, he arrived an hour early, and had jotted down some questions on a crumpled piece of paper now inside his jacket. And just as he expected, you arrived with the cutest outfit he had ever seen. He knew you were the best, always wearing nice clothes that brought out all your features in just the right way. He felt like a fool for only wearing one of his blue shirts and the best pants he had found in his closet. But it had been a wonderful afternoon, he took you to a nice restaurant, moved the chair for you and paid the bills despite your complaints. Then, when the sun was going down he walked you home and you kissed his cheek so sweetly that he stood for ten minutes outside your door even after you closed it.

That night he couldn't sleep, because he realized that he really liked you, that you could stop his heart completely and not just his dick.

The two of you started to frequent each other more, started flirting at work, complicit glances and sloppy kisses in the lonely corners of the station. He didn't want to be a hormonal jerk, but the feeling of your mouth and tongue sliding past his lips fucked his brain. You were so pretty, so perfect that he had to have you, soul and body. He was determined to win you over. And so he was the most detail-oriented guy you ever met, bringing you nice flowers, chocolates, leaving you a coffee every morning on your desk and leaving you cute notes against it.

In no time you fell for it, because let's be honest, no one could resist.

The relationship was formalized, and you swore you never saw such a cute smile on someone's face after giving he a big "Yes." to his proposal. Leon felt like the luckiest guy on the planet, he had a cute, funny girl whom he loved madly because it didn't take you long to get into his heart. You came into his arms as if it was where you belonged, because it was, you belonged in his arms. Just like now, you're buried comfortably in his embrace and the television had been forgotten, you were both too busy devouring each other's mouths.

Leon's hands held each side of your cheeks, drawing your face towards him so he could keep pushing his lips against yours eagerly. It was a simple wet kiss, and he was already dripping inside his pants. And with every sweet sound that came from your lips, his mind was spinning. He wanted to put his hands on you, he wanted to bend your body and pin you so much against the couch that it was getting absolutely silly.

But he didn't want to push you, what if you felt obligated? What if you thought he was just a pervert? What if-

All those doubts were gone as quickly as they came as he felt you climb onto his lap, your arms around his neck and his hands instinctively squeezed your soft hips, pushing you down eagerly. He let out a deep moan as your fingers tugged his hair a little, pulling it away from your lips and he instinctively chased after you again. You had to hold back a laugh at how fucked up he looked from a simple wet kiss, how you could feel him so hard beneath you.

"Hey, Leon. Do you want to... Do you want to continue?" you ask sweetly, moving those pretty eyes of yours to his blue eyes that seemed to want to devour you completely. Before you could think anything else, he was already nodding eagerly.

"Yes, yes... Please." He murmured, his voice was hoarse and came out along with his heavy breaths. He cupped your face, pulling you into him. His lips moving hard against yours, the sloppy sound of the kiss echoing in his small living room. His hands moved down from your face to the sides of your shirt, pulling it up and he pulled away from your lips to lower his gaze to your chest. His breath caught in his throat, moving his hands to the clasps of your bra.

"Can I?" he asked looking at you, as if he wouldn't need to choke on your tits. After all, he was a gentleman.

And when you barely mumbled a small "yes" he removed the garment as if it had somehow insulted him. Your tits fell freely in front of his eyes and he swore that here he belonged. His mouth quickly catching one of your breasts, sucking like a hungry man. As he felt your fingers tugging at his hair and your moans echoing in the room, he had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He could cum from just sucking on your pretty tits.

For lack of air, he pulled away from your nipple watching with fascination the red mark left on your tender flesh. His eyes lifted to yours to push his mouth against yours again, one hand on your cheek and the other holding your hip.

"Lift your hips." He said between kisses, smiling as he felt you obediently follow his request. His hand moved to cup your pussy above your pants, feeling the wetness and heat radiating from your center. And as much as he wanted to bury his face between your legs, he wasn't sure how long he could hold back and not cum intact in his pants. He began to massage your center gently before he began to stroke you harder, his fingers searching for your clit above your clothes. When he decided you were both eager enough, he began to unzip your shorts. His heart (cock) was about to burst with joy as he saw more of your panties exposed to his hungry eyes. It didn't take him too long to slide your shorts down your luxurious thighs, gasping at the sight of the dark stain on your underwear.

"Babe-" You moaned almost shyly as you watched his eyes not move from between your legs. His eyes lifted to look at you again, letting out a low moan as he impacted your mouth. His hands gripped your hips, moving you as if you weighed nothing to place you on the couch.

"You're so cute like this..." He murmured, looking at you as if you were the brightest star to come down from the sky just for him.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen." His voice sounded genuine, mesmerized by the sight of you lying beneath him as he had so often fantasized. So ready, so willing for him. His lips moving down to your neck, beginning to kiss the full expanse of your skin. His hands beginning to impatiently pull down his own pants and boxers, letting out a sigh as the cool air made contact with his raging erection. One of his hands reached down to slip inside your underwear, feeling like he was going to faint when his fingers made contact with your wet folds.

Were you that wet for him? Did he turn you on as much as you turned him on? This was paradise, paradise was between your legs and he was ready to drown himself in it. It didn't take him long to plunge a finger inside you, feeling your walls sucking him hard. He was letting out more moan than you, simply by touching you like this.

"Leon, I want you... I want you, please-" You asked more impatiently, grabbing his hand for him to finally give you his nice cock that you could see it quivering between his legs with excitement.

"I know, I know. I got you, pretty girl." He whispered against your skin, increasing the rhythm of his fingers and with his palm he pressed your clit in a way that made your legs tremble around his hand. When he decided he could take no more, he pulled down your underwear completely, fixing his eyes on your drooling center in a lewd way. For him.

His hands spread your thighs, trying to look away from your pussy, to look at your face, but damn, he was mesmerized. He really wanted this to have been something more romantic, maybe some wine and candles but all those thoughts vanished as he pressed his tip against you. His chest rose and fell, massaging your thighs with his gaze fixed on how the head of his dick was lost from his sight as it entered your warmth. His gaze lifted for the first time to see the expression that crossed your face as he began to fuck you with just his tip.

"D-Do you want more? Does it feel good, huh?" he asked awkwardly, because he's never been good at this 'dirty talk stuff', but he was trying for you. His face was red, slowly moving his hips and his thumb moving up to caress your clit.

"Leon, Come on-" You moaned impatiently in the sweetest way, lifting your hips to try to take him deeper. Your walls were sucking him hard, and he was weak so he started thrusting harder and harder, giving you time to get used to it. He took a shuddering breath, lifting one of your thighs so he could go deep and his head rolled back with ecstasy.

He was not going to last.

He wanted to go slow, to make love to you but quickly found himself fucking you like a repressed man. And his expression was the cutest, his brows furrowed with pleasure and his pink lips slightly parted. A thin layer of sweat was beginning to cover both of your bodies.

When he opened his eyes to look at you, he cursed under his breath. You looked just as he had imagined you all this time, the hottest expression on your face, your body jerking against the couch and your tits bouncing happily with each thrust. And he closed his eyes again because he felt his abdomen tightening from the familiar sensation of his orgasm building. His thumb started stroking you faster, trying desperately to get an orgasm out of you.

The sound of your skins colliding and your moans echoed off the walls, a sound so wet it was almost sinful. His hips began to move uncoordinated as fast as he felt your walls clenching around him tightly, and he knew it.

"Don't stop, Don't stop." You repeated over and over, your nails scraping the smooth skin of his back with ecstasy at the coil forming in your belly that was ready to explode. His cock was touching all the right spots inside you, his veins rubbing and molding your walls with need.

"I can't, I can't... I'm sorry, baby-" He apologized with a choked sob escaping his lips, as his cock contracted and began to shoot its load inside you. His mind went blank and his arms making an extra effort not to let himself fall on you. His face burned knowing he cum before you.

But his brain was too fucked up as he continued to slowly move his hips against yours. As his mind began to clear, he looked up at you with his eyes cloudy and his bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat.

"Let me, let me make it up to you..." He asked in that pathetic voice of his, getting out of you with his trembling body and moving backwards on the couch. He knelt between your legs, staring at the mess he had made in you. His sticky semen escaping from inside you, staining the couch cushions.

"Leon, Wait-" You murmured, tangling your fingers in his sweaty hair before he plunged his face between the piece of paradise he held for his own blessing. His pretty blue, misty eyes meeting yours, and he let you know he wouldn't let go until you were broken.

Because he was already crazy, there was no turning back from his addiction. Because you were a drug to him and this was just beginning.

Thank u so much for supporting my previous post, I hope this one wasn't too long or boring for you 💕🫶🏻

Remember that you can read the first part on my profile, let me know if you liked this one too.

bye, bye (💌)

[ravcnism]

HEY uhm.. i've been having this idea.. like imagine kenji sato x m!reader athlete as well? help, i just thought the dynamic would be cute. it could be a rival team on the baseball league or another sports. I just thought it would be cool!

STRIKEOUT. — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER

Summary: The Hiroshima Toyo Carp may have a new player in town, but his name is nowhere near unheard of. The prized star pitcher of The States takes the country by storm when he spontaneously shows up against the Yomiuri Giants. Ken Sato’s career is given a run for its money.

# # TAGS: Longform, Enemies to Lovers but like Still Enemies as Lovers, A LOT of Tension, Sports Anime-Level of Ridiculous, Star-Athlete!Male Reader, Author Doesn't Actually Know Anything About Baseball, Sort of a Slow Burn? No Beta We Die Like Onda

# # WARNINGS: Mild Violence, Mature Language, Eventual Smut if I’m Brave Enough, English is not My First Language, Around 2000 Words, Part One of ??

Night fell promptly upon the Sato residence. The sun had tucked itself into the sea and left a trail of gold in its warm, glistening wake. From afar, the ever-lively city of New Tokyo lit up street by street.

Beneath the water, in the basement, a newly-bathed Emi waddled towards her corner of the house; smelling of fresh sakura petals, and cuddling a half-crushed Nissan Skyline GT-R. Full from dinner, and satisfied by her shower, she felt the gentle arms of sleep coaxing her to a nap. With a squeaky yawn, and a stretch of her arm, she succumbed to its calls and laid on her spot on the ground. A very amused Hayao Sato came walking after her. “Silly girl. The bath and snack combo never fails to knock you out, huh?”

Kenji Sato, well-dressed for a night out, entered after. He was preoccupied by his sleeves, fingers fumbling to button them shut. “Remember, Dad. No videos after 10 pm. We can’t ruin her sleep schedule again.”

“Of course, Kenji.” His father waved him off with his cane. “You act as if I don’t know her routine like the back of my hand.”

“I’m just making sure.” He was fixing his hair, then, gelling it into place. His eyes narrowed at his own reflection, trying to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. “And of course you’ve got Mina to help.”

“Definitely, Ken.” As if on cue, the round hovering bot came floating in. “We have everything under control. You needn’t worry about us here.”

Professor Sato chuckled at his son, leaning on his good foot. “You seem to have a lot of nervous energy in you, Kenji.”

The batter sighed, tugging on his collar one last time. “I’m always nervous when I’m not playing.” Deciding he looked alright, Ken left his reflection alone. “No idea why. Might have something to do with my dislike towards things that I can’t control, but I’m not gonna get into that right now–” He shuffled about, searching frantically for his jacket. “Mina, where did I put my–?” An extended robot arm appeared from the floor and handed it to him. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Try to enjoy yourself anyway, Kenji.” Professor Sato had walked over to Emi, who was fast asleep, snoring slightly. He lifted a hand and rubbed her head. “I think it’s good that you go to these games even when you’re not scheduled. I can tell it lifts your team’s spirits.”

“Yeah, well, honestly I’m still trying to get used to it. The whole sportsmanship thing.” Ken sprayed his cologne on. He made a quick jog towards Emi and kissed her cheek. “Sleep tight, Sweetie.” He looked at his dad. With his motorcycle keys now in hand, he walked backwards to their glass elevator. “If anything happens, call me. You know the drill.”

“Yes, Ken,” replied Mina. “We do. Rest assured, there will not be a repeat of last time.”

“Right, right. Last time.” Kenji forced out a laugh. “Look, if she wakes up and I’m not home yet, try to get her to tire herself out. Load up a park. Throw some balls. But no flying outside, please? You know she gets carried away.”

“Understood.”

With a final glance, and a reluctant sigh, he stepped into the lift. “I’ll be back soon.” Leaving her 20-foot Kaiju-of-a-daughter never got any easier — no matter how many times he had gone and done it. He waved his family a quick goodbye, before disappearing from their line of sight.

His dad was right. It was good that he was going. The Giants had a game to win.

"Good evening sports fans! Ladies and gentlefolk, we welcome you to the highly anticipated matchup between the Hiroshima Toyo Carp and your Yomiuri Giants.”

The stadium was bright and buzzing with excitement. Ken was used to the energy, but he never grew tired of it. There was something almost magical about having this many people in a stadium together. Something electrifying about hearing their collective voices. Whether or not he was set to play, the crowd was what grounded him into focus. He adored their cheers, regardless of who it was directed to.

“We’ve got an intense start to the game so far, the home crowd doesn’t look too happy with Tateoka’s second strikeout.”

“How's it looking?” Ken appeared beside his teammate, Yuki, who was watching the game by the barriers.

“Bad. We're dying out there, Sato. Tateoka's our second batter. We're down one strikeout.”

Ken's brows knitted together, intrigued. He had gotten here a little late and missed a good chunk of the first inning. He had missed most of the commentary, too, so he was pretty much left in the dark. All he knew was that the home crowd didn't look too cheerful. And neither did Coach Shimura. ( Though technically, he couldn't remember a time when Shimura looked anything less than disappointed. ) Ken settled into his spot, nursing a canned soda.

The pitcher’s back was against him, his jersey name too far for him to read. He couldn't see who it was. Ken took notice of their form. Their figure. “Wait, who's throwing again?”

His teammate dropped a name so familiar it sent Ken choking on his drink.

“Fucking, who?” He dropped the name of a famous star-athlete. A name he saw on billboards, news reports, articles. A name so expensive it put his vintage cars to shame. A name with a strikeout rate so disgustingly high it had the best teams falling to their knees. A staggering 1.75 ERA. Almost zero walks. Your name, sent a shiver down Ken Sato’s spine. You, the Mets’ notorious Bullet, now a surprise player of the Toyo Carp.

He watched as you turned around. Your face came into view. You were frighteningly calm. The Giants’ batter was one strike away from an out. Kenji swallowed thickly. “When the hell did he get here?”

“Yeah. Apparently they traded him to Carp a week ago. Didn't get much buzz for some reason.” Yuki scoffed. “Think they covered it up? Element of surprise? It was a pretty big move.”

The fact that Kenji had never been put up against you before was sheer dumb luck. That's what he thought, anyway. Despite the fact that the both of you had been celebrities in The States, the seasons just never aligned well enough to get the both of you to play at the same park. But he hadn't dreamed of it. Who in their right mind would? Like a bullet from a gun, your pitches were unstoppable. You had a mutant-like control over the ball. There were studies on the physics of your technique. Even the best batters would miss your throws. And at that moment, as he watched his teammate strike himself out, Kenji wondered if he'd miss, too.

He wouldn't have to keep wondering. Understanding the weight of your presence, the Yomiuri Giants opted to bring in the calvary.

“Sato.” Ken flinched at Shimura’s voice. He looked over his shoulder, facing him. “Locker room. Get dressed — I'm calling you up.”

He laughed, nervously. “You sure that's legal, coach?” He wasn't scheduled to play today, and spontaneously entering a non-player into the field was only allowed upon certain circumstances. Like an injury, for example.

“Of course it is.” Shimura grumbled. “Tokuda just broke his arm.”

The mentioned Tokuda stood behind him, sipping on some soda, with his obviously not-broken arm. “You heard the man, Ken. I just broke my arm.”

Ken grimaced, heading for the door. “The press is going to love this…” Japan's finest batter, versus The States’ fastest pitcher. Oh, this would make the headlines for sure.

Kenji did as he was told. He walked into the locker room, then walked out in full-attire. The speakers crackled to life. There was a steady rise in the crowd’s demeanor. People were slowly piecing the situation together. The announcers were losing their minds. “And It looks like — oh my goodness, folks. I don't believe this. Ken Sato has been called up into the field!”

The stadium went alight. Ken walked into the park and wondered if the lights were a little brighter than usual. He was doing his stretches, rolling his shoulders. His bat was handed to him and he flipped it in his hand. He allowed the cheers to boost his energy, and perhaps a bit of his ego.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we might be witnessing baseball history tonight! Two of the opposing team’s star players have come face to face for the first time ever. And it's happening right here, right now.”

You met his eyes. Ken’s breath hitched. You were so… intense. He couldn't properly describe it. You watched him move into position like a lion stalking its prey.

“Will Sato stop the Toyo Carp’s brand new Bullet? Or will he walk out of this game bleeding?”

The trick was to look them in the eye. A pitcher was no different from a batter when it came to a game. They shared the same weight of responsibility. The only time a stadium is silent is when they're standing face to face. Like a duel. One of Ken’s techniques was staring them down and reminding them that he was a force to be reckoned with. He was Ken Sato, for crying out loud.

Unfortunately for him, you were unshaken. Which he would’ve been offended by, if he were younger and more immature. No matter, he had other things to look for. Like the cues. Each pitcher had their own cue; a sort of tell that told Ken what kind of throw they’d be going for. He didn’t hit those pitches out of pure luck. Contrary to popular belief, he was actually thinking these games through. There were a plethora of things to look at. A pitcher’s stance, their position, which hand they were using. In an easier game, Ken would be able to read these pitchers like an open book.

But if you were a book, then you would've been written in a different language. He could find no such cues. He didn’t really have anything to calculate. You were as unpredictable as you were quick. None of his usual techniques seemed to be working on you.

The last resort: keep your eye on the damn ball, and freakin’ swing.

You held your hand outward, fingers pointed at him. There was a kind of hunger in your eyes, an expression that made Ken’s heart skip a beat. Your focused glare made him feel as if a red dot had appeared on his forehead. Like you had marked him for prey. It felt… personal. Like it wasn’t a part of the game, and you were only pointing at him. A threat. A dare.

You pulled your pitching arm back. He swore he heard a gun cock. The stadium went quiet. The crowd held its breath. So did Ken. He tightened his grip on his bat. He waited, eagerly, for you to make your move. He was counting the milliseconds, watching you, anticipating your throw, waiting for you to shoot.

And you did.

Ken blinked, and the ball was gone from your hands. He released the breath he was holding through a disbelieved scoff. He turned, and the catcher had stumbled slightly, holding your ball. The crowd grew into disarray, a rising cacophony of cheers and boos. They just couldn’t believe it. Ken Sato not only missed your pitch, but wasn’t able to move at all. He couldn’t even swing. You were too fast. Too abrupt.The ball was a white blur, there a moment, then gone the next. It wasn’t an issue of the curve, nor the direction. It was just too fucking fast.

His teammates couldn’t believe their eyes. And neither did his coach. Ken craned his head to look at you. You stared back at him, stone-faced.

He took a breath to regain his composure, resuming his earlier stance. He would never admit it, but he was rattled. He was trying to understand how that throw was humanly possible. How he had somehow forgotten to move. He could do nothing more but stand haunted as he heard the resounding “strike one!” from the umpire. This wasn’t the first time he’d missed, but it was the first time he froze. It was a spectacle to all, and a moment of horror for his fans. Did the Unstoppable Ken Sato finally meet his match? Even if he did, he was determined not to lose a second time.

“Okay,” he whispered. He took a deep, focused breath, slightly shifting his stance. He kept his feet firm on the ground, bat at the ready. “Okay, Hotshot. Bring it on.”

You kept your eyes on him and him alone. You stared at him as if you were the only two people in the stadium. The crowd went silent once again. The Giants fans were desperate to give Sato the focus he so-terribly needed, but the Carp fans were just curious to see how the second pitch would go. The air was thick and heavy with tension.

Like before, you threw your hand out, fingers pointed at Ken. You drew your pitching arm back, like an archer, and there was that sound in his mind again. The cock of a gun. Ken waited. He counted you down. He was a hunter dressed in camo, waiting for a deer to move.

Then, for the first time since he’d seen you, your expression changed. You grinned at him.

Then you winked.

Shit.

You threw the ball. Ken swung.

But he missed.

The crowd erupted into chaos. There was an indistinguishable pandemonium of disdain and celebration. People screamed and jumped and waved their banners as high as they possibly could. A number of them had already entered a state of acceptance — the Giants would lose to a perfect game. No batter would ever get through the wall that was you. But a lot of them kept their faith in the ever-notorious Sato. He could hit the last shot. He could pull this off. He might have been struggling to match your speed, but he would figure it out. They believed in him like he was a god.

And at that moment, as Kenji heard the echoing “strike two!” he certainly felt the anger of one.

Did you just fucking wink? Did you seriously have the audacity to wink at him? Kenji took it personally. Who did you think you were? Though his lips spoke nothing of the foul words he wished so eagerly to shout, it was clear on his face that he wanted you gone. It was one thing to embarrass him with a fastball, but another to rub it in. He wouldn’t let that slide. He wouldn’t allow you to strike him out.

Yoshimura was gripping the barrier so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.“Eyes up, Sato!”

Kenji breathed. Through his nose, this time. He drew a long breath into his entire body and blew it out through his lips. He wouldn’t miss. He couldn’t miss. While he might have already taught himself the humility that came with losing, he hadn’t taught himself jackshit about losing to you.

“If looks could kill,” whispered Ami Wakita, the reporter who watched the game from the press booth. Typing into her laptop, she wrote: “There seems to be obvious tension on the field. Nothing new for Ken Sato, yet, significantly different. Japan’s star player has finally met his match. This game has been a long time coming.”

This was his last chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it. Kenji raised his bat, and narrowed his eyes. You weren’t blind to his added efforts, and smirked at him again. Oh, how it made his blood boil.

Point.

Pull.

Throw.

Swing.

This time, the ball made contact.

The crowd blew up once more, exhausting their lungs as they watched the ball fly across the field. Kenji had hit it. Kenji had managed to catch your bullet-of-a-pitch. He dropped his bat to the ground and ran for his life. Base to base, corner to corner. Kenji leapt across the field and jumped for home.

“Safe!”

The crowd went wild. He had heard stadiums cheer for him before, but he didn't think he had ever heard anything this loud. With a relieved laugh, Kenji got up from the ground, and finally caught his breath. His teammates ran to greet him, though they had only passed the first inning. With a round as intense as that one, they felt it was only right to celebrate a little early.

And then he looked at you. Your eyes met. You were smiling at him again. He didn't like the lack of concern on your face. He didn't like that you didn't seem challenged. And he especially didn't like the fact that he was out there playing for his life, while you seemed to have played for a weekend game at the park.

Kenji was glaring at you, as if he was burning holes into your head. You lifted a hand and threw him a casual salute, flicking two fingers towards his direction. Dammit, he thought. That wink really threw him off. Which it shouldn't have.

Unfortunately for him, the game was nowhere near the last time you'd interact.

And there'd be the after-party to boot.

[frost-queen]

Watch the boyfriend (Reader x Elijah Mikaelson)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic  , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 , @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers   , @merlieve , @queen-of-books  , @glimmering-darling-dolly   ,@denkisclown  , @wildieflower   ,@meyocoko  , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07  , @melsunshine   @panhoeofmanyfandoms  , @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat,@rosecentury,   @imagines-by-her ,  @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn, @niktwazny303   ,@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Your foot bopped along with the beat. Earplugs in you sat sideways in one of the Victorian chairs. Legs over railing, scrolling on your phone. The Mikaelsons were out, meaning you had the house for yourself. You took the opportunity to do absolutely nothing and have some me time. Moving around the house with earplugs so that the music swallowed you whole. Now you were just sitting down, waiting for the Mikaelsons to come home. Your eye caught a glance of the first Mikaelson entering.

It was Kol. He nodded at you as you gave him a welcoming nod back. Freya entered next with Rebekah, chattering about something. Elijah and Klaus were the last Mikaelsons to enter. Elijah smiled upon seeing you. With vampire speed he rushed over to you.

Coming to hover over you, leaving a caring kiss on your forehead. You looked up at him, tapping at your lips. Elijah chuckling before kissing your lips upside down. You heard Klaus groan letting himself fall down in the sofa. You unplugged your earplugs, swinging your legs over the railing to the front.

“How was your day sweetheart?” – Elijah asked coming to sit on the railing with you. – “Enough about me, how was your day? Did it go well?” – you answered. Elijah took your hand, fiddling a bit with your fingers. Looking at him, you noticed some forgotten blood on his jaw.

Making your finger wet, you wiped it clean. – “You missed a spot dear.” – you told him. Elijah cupped your cheek. – “I’ll have you to clean me.” – he whispered to you. Klaus rolling with his eyes. – “Please lead this up to the bedroom.” – he scolded. Elijah and you both laughed. Klaus then got up, taking his brother by the arm.

“Come we have much to discuss.” – he said. You blew Elijah a kiss as he left with his brother. Putting in your earplugs again, you forgot what you were even mindlessly scrolling through. Video after video you were watching with little interest.

Swiping your finger up a few more times, the video’s flashed by. Till one video made you stop and watch. A girl’s voice speaking as you saw the camera getting pointed at a boy. “Hey guys can you watch my boyfriend for me.” – she said taking her leave. Her phone turned towards her boyfriend as he looked confused at the camera.

It made you laugh at how silly his expression was. – “What are you laughing about?” – Rebekah asked joining you in the open living room. You took out your earplugs, showing her the video. At first she furrowed her brows till she started laughing. She handed you back your phone. – “Do you think I should do it with Elijah?” – you questioned. Rebekah quirking her eyebrow up.

“He’d have no clue.” – she answered. – “Right!” – you called out. – “That would make it so funny!” – you told her. – “If you do make the video, send it to me.” – Rebekah suggested. – “So you can have leverage over him?” – you teased with a laugh. – “Then you should make one about Niklaus too.” – she joked. Rebekah’s phone rang as she got up, answering it. Speaking with her gave you stuff to think about. Getting more eager to do it with Elijah. You only had to wait for Elijah to finish his meeting with Klaus.

Waiting for Elijah felt like eternity so you decided to help out Freya in the meantime. Help her label some new bottles with ingredients for her spells and potions. The urge of filming the video growing by the minute. Freya noticed you were eager for something, but didn’t comment about it. Hearing the door open, it made you tense your muscles. From Freya’s witchy room, you saw a glimpse of Klaus leaving.

You quickly set the last bottles down. – “Sorry gotta run Freya!” – you called out, taking your leave. – “Thanks for the help Y/n!” – Freya shouted after you. You ran into the room where Elijah was. He looked surprised at you for a moment. – “Y/n, sweetheart.” – he called out. You walked up to him, placing your hands on his hips, getting on the tips of your toes for a kiss. Elijah happily kissed you back. 

“Someone missed me.” – Elijah said with a smile. – “Didn’t you miss me?” – you asked curious, already knowing the answer. – “Immensely.”  - Elijah responded cupping your cheek. His comment made you scrunch your nose with a teasing smile. Elijah booped your nose making you flutter your face back. – “How about a drink?” – You suggested, tilting your head a bit. – “I can’t say no to you spoiling me.” – Elijah replied.

You went over to the bar, taking two glasses. Leaning over the counter, you grabbed for the bottle. – “Need a hand sweetheart?” – Elijah asked. – “No!” – you called out loud. He moved his hands up in defence, not arguing with you there. He sat down as you returned with his glass. You then went over to grab your glass from the counter. Pulling out your phone. You pretended to hold it against your ear as if you had a call.

Elijah furrowed his brows, wondering who you were calling. You then moved your phone down, pressing the record button. Returning to Elijah, you made sure it was recording from the front. Setting your glass down on a good position. – “Hey guys can you watch my boyfriend.” – you said, setting the phone against the glass for support.

Elijah’s gaze went from you, down to your phone. Staring confused right at the camera as you took a run for it. Elijah turned around. – “Y/n?” – he called out. He then looked back at the camera, feeling like someone was watching him. He stared awkwardly at it, feeling awkward to even sip his drink. Nervously, he moved his hand up to greet whoever was watching him.

His gaze glided awkwardly away from the camera, trying to see if you were returning. When you weren’t returning, he sighed deep. Tapping his fingers patiently together it felt awkward for him. Elijah suddenly moved closer to the camera. His face getting full on the camera. – “I don’t need watching.” – he said to your phone. You had returned seeing him do that. It made you laugh loud, making him turn his head in an instant. – “Y/n!” – he shouted.

Continuing to laugh, you ran over to your phone to collect it. Your face came on the camera as Elijah looked over your shoulder in the camera as well. – “Has he behaved?” – you asked teasingly at the camera. Elijah looked in shock at you. – “I have!” – he called out, making you laugh loud, stopping the video.  

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑶𝒖𝒓𝒔

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 10

tags : porn with some plot, porn with feelings, newly-established relationship, oral fixation, nipple play, softdom!caleb, flat-chested!reader, slight insecurities about being flat-chested, silly bickering, drinking mention (but no one gets drunk), kissing and making out, body worship (ish?), masturbation (f), dry humping, use of pet names "pipsqueak" "baby" “princess”. lmk if i missed any tags !!

wc : 5.4k (whoops!)

an : i had a lot a loottt of fun with this and also i know this is super super overdue, but~ a req for @anxiousgoddest !! bc flat is justice <3 (tysm for waiting patiently !!!)

taglist : @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @theanbitchless (SIGN UP HERE)

AO3 / KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

Wherein a game of truth or dare leads you to take the next step in your relationship, and Caleb proves to you just how much he loves you.

"And you have to give me the recipe! How could you have kept this from me the entire time?!"

Scrambled, frantic noises scattered around by the doorway, and you chuckled as you helped Tara gather and put her shoes on. It was a usual scene, and she was still rambling on like she often did. "It's not my recipe, Tara," you rolled your eyes playfully.

“Yeah, but, come on!! Hiding a whole master chef in your bedroom—”

“Tara!!!”

Despite the mortification clear in your eyes, beside you, Caleb rolled his eyes and let out a snort of laughter. “Yeah, yeah, alright, point taken,” he placed a hand over her shoulder. With a raised eyebrow, he shuffled her out. “Sor-ry, but a secret stays a secret! At least, hey, you can just come over next time, right?"

Effectively, it seemed to placate her curiosity just a little bit. Just enough.

You watched the sparkle in her eyes seemingly grow to be more obvious, as she clasped her hands together and said—"Oooh! An invite? I could never turn that down! That’s a promise, Caleb!"

And your eyes softened at the playful banter.

Tonight had been the first time that Caleb had officially met Tara and your other Hunter friends, and you appreciated how naturally he got along with them. He might have owed it to his easy going personality, you thought, but it meant a lot to you knowing he could be just as good friends with them as you were. For all that Caleb wasn't around as often as you wished he would be, the little mutual connections made you happy.

In fact, Tara was even the last one to leave your little gathering, having stayed back a little bit for a second helping of Caleb's cooking. You couldn't blame her, of course—you would’ve stayed back for it, too! But it was amusing to know that she had certainly taken to expressing her approval of your relationship with him, enough to playfully demand for his recipes. 

Because, in her words, "it's only right for the best friend to have access to them, too!"

The thought of it made you laugh.

Now, as night fell and she hurried to catch the last train home, you watched as she hopped out of your apartment with another cheerful wave. "Take care, Tara! See you tomorrow!"

Caleb shook his head as he watched her dash down the corridor of your apartment complex, and then softly closed the door.

For the first time that night, there was a peaceful blanket of momentary silence.

And then he turned to you, leaning against it.

"Sooooo," he began, grinning slyly.

You knew that look.

"Now, we have the place all to ourselves again... What're you up for?"

Grateful you were standing near the couch, you picked up a nearby pillow and threw it at his face. "Caleb!"

Naturally, he caught it with ease. "What!?" he laughed. "I didn't say anything, I didn’t even do anything! I was asking you what you wanna do!"

"Well, don't make that face then!"

You threatened to throw another pillow at him, holding it in your grasp. But Caleb only shook his head with a smile, and it was easy for him to stride over, grasp your hands above your head, and pry the pillow away from you. It was smooth, and there wasn't a single chance for you to resist as you allowed yourself to be enchanted by that look in his eyes. He stared at you like that for a moment, the soft smile on his face never leaving, his closeness still inevitably making your heart race.

And then he pulled away.

You watched him walk over to sit properly on the couch, and you wondered how he still had the audacity to pat the space beside him.

You made a face.

"C'mon," he sighed, rolling his eyes in slight amusement. "At least cuddle with me? We haven't had the day to ourselves yet, cut me some slack, pipsqueak."

In all honesty, you weren't opposed to the idea. It had been a tiring day, so full of socializing and work that relaxing in his arms was a proposal that was surely more than inviting. But your pride, always raised impossibly high in his presence, made it harder for you to give in. You were used to it, in a way. Having known him for nearly your entire life meant you've adapted to it all; the banter, the teasing, the playful competition you often had with each other... It was just odd to think otherwise.

Yet, over recent months, your relationship had progressed into something more.

Something that should have allowed you to submit to your own desires for more affection for him... Only to find out that old habits died hard.

Still, he opened his arms expectantly, and even you hadn't the heart to reject him like that.

Slowly, you walked over to settle beside him. It was natural, the way his arm draped around your shoulders, the way you would shift to lean against his chest. The smell of his cologne—one chosen deliberately, you noted, given that it was your favorite of his—provided a comfort that made you relax. And you wondered why you were really all that hesitant in the first place.

With a quiet sigh, you watched him reach over to take the remote from the table and then point it towards the TV.

"How about a movie?" he suggested.

And he looked down at you, his gaze gentle.

You figured, you could at least indulge him a little bit.

"Mmm... Maybe not a movie?" you started, softly.

"Tired? I get that. We can just go to bed if you—"

"No, that's not what I mean."

A silence followed.

You'd cut him off, but you looked away. You found that it was difficult to bring up the topic at all, even if you wanted to.

"Pipsqueak?"

This time, his voice was devoid of the usual teasing, softer than you were used to. He set the remote back down beside him, and used his hand to gently guide your chin upwards to look at him.

It was that look.

Warm, and gentle, and so full of adoration.

The look that would always give you butterflies.

A little pout formed on your lips.

"Don't look at me like that..."

In response, he laughed, moving ever so closely, lips only a few inches from yours. "Hm? Like what, pipsqueak?"

You weren't having whatever game of catch he was playing with you, and you clicked your tongue. With a quick, light kiss on his lips—basking for a moment in the shock that spread across his features—you turned back away and crossed your arms.

"Like... Whatever it is that you're doing!" you huffed. "You don't know half the thoughts I have in my head because of you!"

"Yeah? C'mon. Try me."

Another pillow thrown unsuccessfully at his face—one that he caught with frustrating ease—and another laugh escaped his lips. It was one that gave you more butterflies than you'd have liked to admit.

Yet, be it the fact that he'd known you for nearly his entire life, his expression softened again. As if he knew to stop teasing; as if he knew there was something you wanted to talk about.

"Hey. Talk to me, princess."

Princess.

Not pipsqueak, not even your name—a nickname he reserved for the softer, more intimate moments you shared. A nickname you've only ever heard so lovingly from his own lips… a nickname for you.

Your eyes closed.

"Just… I've been thinking," you started, quietly, slowly, as if gathering your thoughts. "I mean, I don't know if now is the time and place for it, I was just..."

When your voice trailed off, he was quick to place a reassuring hand over yours, the warmth of it a comfort that was enough to get you to continue.

You cleared your throat, and tried again.

"Could we... Go further, do you think?"

The silence that followed this time was deafening.

For a moment neither of you seemed to speak, and you couldn’t dare bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“... I’m sorry. Forget I brought that up. We can just cuddle and put on Howl’s Moving Castl—”

“Hey, no, we could.”

Caleb interrupted you before you could bother to do whatever damage control was even possible at that point, and your words remained stuck in your throat. You were hyper aware of his presence next to you, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, and in light of what you’d said, it almost seemed too much. The moment he brought his other hand to rest on your thigh, you nearly could have jumped. 

Perhaps your jumpiness was something he had sensed, too.

“Look at me?” he spoke softly, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. One of reassurance; one that you recognized.

And when you did meet his gaze, he shook his head with a smile.

“We could, princess, but only if you reallyyy want to.”

There was a very slight teasing lilt to his voice that you could just barely make out, and his eyebrow raised.

Of course, Caleb was Caleb.

He knew you too well.

“Sooo?” he flicked your forehead. “What’s the holdup, pipsqueak? That’s what you said, but… Seems like you aren’t sure you want it, either. What’s got this on your mind today? Talk to me.”

Ah…

You smiled wryly at him, a sigh of what appeared to be defeat escaping your lips. And instead of answering immediately, you allowed yourself to fall back against him, eyes closing for a little moment.

“...It’s awkward, huh?” you mumbled.

He didn’t quite reply, but he let out a hum for you to continue.

“Just… This whole thing. Like, I’ll admit it, I think about it. A lot, actually. It’s just… I don’t know how to cross the line without feeling like I’m ruining things between us.”

“So… You think about it? Really? Does it get you all w—”

A pillow to his face.

That teasing grin you knew all too well was plastered back on for you to see, and the sound of his laughter filled the living room.

“That’s not the point!” you protested. “I said all that I did, and that’s what you focus on?!”

“I was kidding! I was kidding! I swear!”

Still laughing, he had enough decency to raise his hands into the air, allowing you a free, unobstructed hit with the pillow you still wielded.

Satisfactory enough.

Your shoulders relaxed, finding familiarity in your childish banter, and the pillow rested back on your lap.

“Okay, but real talk…” He settled back beside you, giving you a little nudge. “It’s not just you. I think about it, too. And I want it, so I think… we could ease into it, y’know? Doesn’t have to be all at once, we can take our time.”

“Yeah, but… how? We make out all the time, but it’s not like it’s all that easy to just… go from there…”

He thought for a moment.

A brief silence passed yet again, and you peered at him curiously, before he spoke again.

“How ‘bout… Truth or dare?”

When he met your gaze, his head tilted sideways. Naturally, there was a playfulness to his voice that was almost always just there, but the seriousness in the way he looked at you compelled you to believe he wasn’t joking.

“Truth or… dare?” you furrowed your brows.

He shrugged.

“Yeah, s’fine, right? We get to be honest with each other about what we feel on the topic, and, you know… there’s also the aspect of dares bein’ there, and all…”

He had a point.

But if you were going to be honest enough with whatever answers you were going to give, and if you were going to build the courage to do whatever dares you had to do…

You stood up, and Caleb watched you quizzically as you walked over to the kitchen to get a single bottle of soju from the fridge.

“Wh— Hey, c’mon! Really? Do you need that?! Aren’t we doing this sober?!”

You rolled your eyes at the astonished expression on his face, setting down two shot glasses and the bottle before resuming your position cross legged on the couch. Your trusty pillow was nestled neatly back over your lap. “Oh, whatever. Not like we drank anything today anyway, and before I drink, I’m giving you my consent. I do want this, I just, you know… need a little push, that’s all. I’m not about to get myself drunk, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The doubt in his eyes seemed placated, and after a moment, he sighed and reached out to pour both of you a shot.

“Okay, alright, fine. Then… Rules?”

“Mmm… Three truths and three dares at a time. If you run out of truths, you have to do a dare next, and vice versa. Fair, right?”

You spoke before downing your first shot of alcohol, allowing yourself to savor the sensation with a momentary close of your eyes and a little sigh.

Across from you, you heard Caleb let out another one of his chuckles.

“Okay, okay… Fair's fair. Sooo… Since you drank just now, let's start with you. Truth or dare, princess?”

The question made you pause.

It was as if the reality had dawned on you, that you were really, truly doing this, and it took a moment before you could answer him—eyes fixed onto the pillow on your lap, a small frown on your face.

“Baby, if you don't want to pl—”

“Truth.”

At this point, you maybe regretted a little bit of the rule you’d imposed.

You reached out to pour another glass of alcohol, but Caleb’s hand shot out to grab your wrist.

He gave you a pointed look.

“Alright, c’mon. Drink later. You literally just had a shot. I’ll go easy on you, relax!” His hand gave you a little squeeze as if to prove a point, and then only after you had huffed and settled back in your seat did he give you your question.

“Okay… So what do you think of me?”

A simple enough question.

He was right; he did go easy on you.

But your frowned and crosses your arms, opening your mouth to speak—

“Like, really think of me, princess. C'mon, you know why we're playing this.”

The smirk that tugged on the corner of his lips proved that he knew exactly the type of answer you were about to give him, and you rolled your eyes.

Caleb was Caleb. He did, in fact, know you very well.

So you took a moment, mulling it over—because simple as the question was, the answer itself was far from it.

You thought many things about him.

That he was annoying.

That he was a tease.

That he could very easily get on your nerves, but that he could—just as easily—soothe them.

He was fun. Kind. Easygoing. Comforting.

He was reliable, dependable, protective, a little bit of a worrywart with you… But he was gentle. He was sweet. Loving, and caring—he knew you best. Every little tell, every little habit… Everything about you. And that was one of the reasons that you were drawn to him; always have been drawn to him.

You let out a slow breath.

Because you realized that at the root of all of these things… there was love. There was trust. 

“I think… I could trust you,” you mumbled. “I think that even if it's a little scary trying to navigate this whole relationship that we have right now… You've always been nothing but caring towards me. So, I trust you. I trust us. And—”

A wry smile played at your lips as you raised your eyes to look back at him.

“And I think you're handsome. Because I know you want me to say that, and, like, fuck it, fine. You're hot. It's true.”

“Oh, yeah? Do I make you feel ho—”

“Caleb!” You raised your pillow in warning, and he laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re so easy to rile up, pipsqueak. Geez… Never change.”

For good measure, you hit him again anyway, before crossing your arms once more and giving him a pointed look. “Truth or dare?”

“...Truth.”

His answer came after a period of silence. But this was a question you didn't need to think of.

“You said earlier that you've thought about this, too… What… What have you thought about?”

It seemed as if your question had come as a surprise to him, and you took delight in the way that his eyes had widened.

“Huh—well— Well, of this, right? Of… of you,” he said slowly. And he had every opportunity to take this question to goof around, but he averted his gaze, a slight action that gave you reassurance he was taking this just as seriously. “The most we've ever done was just… kiss. So, sometimes I think about other things. Like maybe how you'd look underneath all that, or the faces you'd make, the sounds you'd make, how you'd feel…”

There was somewhat of a bashfulness in the way that he spoke this time, not deliberately teasing you, but clearly wanting to give an honest answer. He ran his fingers through his hair, before he sighed. “Since we’re bein’ honest, I’ll also say I think about those a lot when you dress up a little. If you find me attractive, then it’s the same for me of you, y'know? But I've been tryin’ to wait it out ‘til you brought up the topic, so…”

Your cheeks grew warmer the more that he spoke, and with a huff, you, too, averted your gaze. “Geez, shut up…”

“You asked me that question!”

“Yeah, but I was just— you know…! I mean, I was curious how far your thoughts went!”

He scoffed. “Truth or dare, pipsqueak?”

“Truth!”

You answered really without thinking, and then immediately paled with the realization that you had one more truth left.

With a groan, you reached for the bottle. “Hold,” you muttered. You took a second to take your second shot, before motioning for Caleb to continue. “Hit me.”

This time, he smirked.

“When was the last time you touched yourself?”

Your jaw dropped.

“Wha—what?!”

“What, what! You asked me that, so of course I'll step it up!”

“You menace—” You shot him a glare, but it wasn't as if you were upset about it. Instead, with a bright red coloring the tips of your ears, you turned your head away.

“Two nights ago,” you mumbled. “Before you got home.”

“Whoa, so not too long ago, huh? Aww, princess… what were you thinking of?”

His words didn't at all help the flush that spread on your face.

“Wh—hey! No double-asking! Or triple-asking, for that matter!”

“But obviously it's me, right? Did you miss me that much, baby? Didn't know you got so needy in my absen—”

“Oh, shut up! Like, when was the last time you jerked off, anyway?!”

He smirked.

“No double-asking~”

You groaned as you kicked at him with your legs. “Fine! Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

Caleb was a lot bolder than you.

There was little need for him to hide behind the ‘truth’ option, and it surprised you little to hear him, this time, choose otherwise.

Yet it was just as much of a test for you as it was for him.

Because what did you want from him?

You knew the answer to that, in a sense—you wanted a lot. But desire was a difficult thing to navigate. And just like it had been difficult for you to answer your first question in a way that was coherent, it was just as difficult for you to think of this. 

As you looked him over in thought, there was that nagging feeling within you that so desperately wished you wouldn’t be so awkward about it.

“I dare…” you fiddled with your hands, trying to search his eyes as if the answer would be written on there. “I dare you to make the first move.”

Your gaze fell back to your lap.

“And, truth,” you added, “because the truth is that I don't know how to, and I have to be a little pathetic and hide behind a game like this even though I can't bear to keep waiting any longer when I want you so goddamn badly, so—”

He wouldn't give you a chance to complete it.

Immediately, a pair of lips crashed onto yours, and your eyes widened. Words were immediately swallowed back into your throat. You felt yourself pushed back against the couch; his fingers found themselves in your hair, lips coaxing at yours to relax with him. This feeling… You knew it by heart. Familiar, while simultaneously not. Gentle, but at the same time… desperate. And for the first time that night, you really, truly realized, that this was something he wanted just as badly as you did.

Slowly, your arms snaked around his waist, breathing a little heavy when he pulled back.

“...That was your turn just now, right?” he mumbled. His forehead pressed against yours, hand moving from your hair down to cradle the side of your face. “So it's my turn again. Gimme another dare.”

Your breath hitched.

He was doing this on purpose.

Allowing you to ask of him what you wanted, allowing you to dictate the pace of this moment—because he knew that he would follow through with it.

It was you, after all.

And for all the times that you've felt loved, and cared for, and prized, with him…

You felt seen.

You looked into his eyes, all sunset-colored and real, full of warmth and kindness and all these things that you have always, always felt with him… You could melt like this. He wasn't teasing you this time. He was being genuine.

You wanted him to feel seen, too.

“What do you want?” you whispered back.

He let out a soft laugh through his nose.

“Nah, this isn't truth, pipsqueak. You're supposed to give me a dare, right?”

“But… What if I wanted you to act on your desires?” Your hand moved up his back to rest around his neck, leaning up slightly to nuzzle against his nose. “I know what you're doing. And it's working, by the way, so thanks. But… If you're okay with taking whatever dare I throw your way… Then I'm okay with whatever you decide to throw my way.”

“Baby…”

“We're still playing? Then I dare you to show me what you want from me.”

Slowly, he shook his head.

“Sure but… I don't want from you, princess. I want you. This isn't give or take. It's just…” He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a soft sigh. “It's just me wanting to love you.”

He leaned in again, pulling you in for another kiss. It was a quicker one this time, but not any less tender and not any less sweet than his kisses usually were with you. He pulled back with a little pull on your lower lip, before shifting towards your jawline.

“Caleb…”

Tiny little fluttering kisses, and his head dipped, nuzzling against your neck.

“...Your shirt,” he mumbled. “It's your dare, right? Are we cool with taking this off?”

At his words, your cheeks flushed—suddenly, the realization that you had never gone this far felt more real than ever.

As if sensing your hesitation, his head lifted, and he looked at you carefully. “Too far? Wanna backtrack?”

You shook your head.

It was just like him to prioritize you still.

“No, just, mmh… You've never, you know… Seen me naked or anything before…” You reached out to run your hands through his hair.

“Shy?” he murmured.

“...Yeah. A little.”

“S’no need to be, pipsqueak. Hey, we were honest earlier, right? You're real beautiful. I already know that. I don't need to see what's underneath your clothes to believe it.”

“I know, I know… Just, I dunno… Be nice, or something? Ah… I think I'm just nervous.”

He smiled.

There was a tiny, light flick at your forehead, and he rolled his eyes playfully. “Did ya think I'd be mean?! Hey, c'mon. Is there something you're not telling me?”

It was your turn to smile, because hell.

He had proven time and time again how you couldn't possibly hide anything from him.

With a playful huff of indignance, you reached down to lift up your shirt, ever so slightly. “I'm not hiding anything. I was only… Well, it's just. It's not like… It's not like they're big, or anything. Not my favorite thing in the world to show off…”

He stopped you.

“You're worried I'll be turned off? I could never.”

“I know that! It was just a silly thought. Feels like guys tend to prefer it when we aren't flat-chested, so I was only—”

“Princess.”

“What?”

“So, I'm gonna take you up on your offer… And I'm going to, maybe, have my way with you just a little bit.”

You blinked.

“Huh? Where's this coming from?”

“Just—hey, there is nothing wrong with having a small chest, and hell if I'll have to prove it to you.”

“That's— that's not— It’s fine, you don’t need to—”

He tugged at your shirt, eyebrow raised as he began to lift it up. “Nuh-uh, I'm gonna spoil you today. You are going to lay back and be a little princess for me. Sound fair?”

It was near comical how insistent he was about it, and with another roll of your eyes, you raised your hands in mock surrender. “Geez! What, has this always been like, a fantasy of yours or something? Help yourself, I guess.”

Yet you couldn't keep the smile off your face.

In seconds, your shirt was lifted off of you, your bra following suit, both placed somewhere else on the couch. And his eyes raked over your figure.

“God… You're beautiful. Seriously. You've nothing to worry about, nothing at all.” His voice became lower, breathier. The sound of it was enough proof to you of what the sight of your breasts was doing to him. And the moment that his hands moved to hold them, your eyes followed the trail of his fingers, the sheer difference in size as he held you making you swallow thickly.

His touch was searing.

Despite the way that he would gently knead at your flesh, you couldn't help but squirm beneath him. Almost pathetically, you could see the way your nipples pebbled with the slightest touch, leaving nothing of your arousal to his imagination.

But you could tell that he was only just beginning.

A low, barely-audible groan could be heard from his throat.

And within the next few seconds, he edged closer and closer—his fingertip grazed ever so close to your nipples, but not quite touching. A tease, as he ever was, he would circle around and around, the sensation just barely there. And then he would move away. Back to holding you, massaging your little mounds, giving you a little squeeze.

When your eyes met, there was that damn smirk back on his face.

“Feeling good?”

He looked satisfied with himself, and he had every reason to be.

Your cheeks were bright red, lips parted. Every so often a wordless gasp would escape from your lips—maybe his fingers would get a little too close, the tingling feeling shooting straight through your core and having your body jump almost as if an involuntary response.

And then you felt it.

All the while maintaining eye-contact, you let out a whimper as he flicked the pad of his finger over your bud. 

“H-h—nn—!”

You could lose it.

Every little tease had you feeling more sensitive than you ever thought you could get, and yet, here he was; your nipples between his fingers, rolling it real slowly, feeling you up in a manner of both worship and playfulness that only he could truly pull off.

He tugged on them just a little bit to give you that jolt of pleasure, and you arched.

The sensation a welcome shock, your eyes widened.

“C-Caleb—?!”

“Hm? Oh… So y’like it like that, huh?”

He was fascinated.

He trained them to his touch, every rub, every pull, every slightest touch having you writhing beneath him.

“D'you think… Can you… cum like this?”

He didn't give you a second to answer.

It was as if he was insistent on making that happen. Immediately his warm lips were on your chest, burning through your flesh in a way that felt nearly all-encompassing; a heat higher than his touch, you felt almost as if he could devour you.

Yet aside from the pleasure, you could tell that this was more than that.

This was the extent of his desires, and the extent of his love.

The way he would fondle you with such adoration could have burned you, strong hands snaking down your body before holding you in place, tonguing over your nipples.

He licked, and sucked, and lapped, clearly never even wanting to pull away anymore, and the slick between your thighs was undeniable.

And again, for all the times that you've felt loved, and cared for, and prized, with him…

You felt seen.

That was what his love was like.

That even in the midst of something so lewd, with wet, embarrassing sucking noises filling the room… Somehow, some way, you felt loved.

To be loved is to be seen.

How odd, you thought, that in this moment you couldn't possibly think of a better way to describe the way he made you feel.

In this moment, all your moans and whimpers began to fall from your lips more freely, and you nearly choked at the feeling of him rutting against your thigh, the bulge in his pants more than obvious to you.

There was something so arousing about the fact that he'd gotten undeniably hard from this.

You couldn't help yourself anymore.

“Caleb… Cale—hng—Caleb—! F-feels good…!” 

Your hand snaked down, desperately pushing down your pants. Every suckle at your flesh spurred you on further, fingers dipping right into your head with a wet squelch, and he groaned.

Having resorted to leaving open-mouthed kisses and barely-contained licks all over your chest, his hips moved faster, rubbing against you, chasing a friction. Your hands matched the pace—thrusting in and out, your own eyes closed at the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling.

“Shit, holy shit, baby,” he hissed.

You caught his gaze travel down to the hand between your legs, panties pushed messily to the side as your sopping wet cunt took every thrust of self-pleasure.

In the next moment his lips were back on your perky, swollen little nub—

And you are gone.

It was so easy.

Your release crashed over with a cry from your throat, hips spasming, mouth held open, head thrown back in pure pleasure.

Caleb wouldn't stop.

There was an air of desperation in his movements, and your free hand flew to his hair, the other sliding your fingers out of your pussy to claw at the couch—”Caleb!” you cried again.

You tugged at his hair.

One last suck before he came, sticky mess ruining his sweatpants, seeping a little bit onto the skin of your thigh.

You groaned, falling back against the couch.

“You… My god… I can't believe you…!” you huffed. Your chest heaved, and your words, your tone, carried very little—if at all—genuine reprimand. He knew that, probably. Because instead of replying, his mouth was back on yours, stealing your breath away like it was so easy for him to do, before you felt him pull back.

This time, he sat up.

“You're fucking amazing,” he muttered.

He wiped a little bit of excess drool from his face, and shook his head. “Just—holy shit, princess. I don't think I can ever get enough of you.”

A pause.

You caught your breath, before reaching for the collar of his shirt and yanking him back down.

“Then don't.”

You weren't quite sure if it was the adrenaline from all of this, or the little bit of alcohol coursing in your veins, or just the fact that you had done this, that made you feel a little… bold.

Your eyes locked with his, taking in the bewilderment, the shocked silence.

You smiled.

“I said I trust you, right? Don't hold back, Caleb. I dare you not to.”

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[chillinglyadventurous]

Got some Stanley fluff for ya (just an idea, I probably could flesh it out more but it’s a scene I’ve thought about a lot)

Old man Stan with his younger partner are curled up together on his old, yellow recliner. You’re sitting between his legs, side pressed to his chest while your legs fall over the armrest.

Stan is holding you so securely as he focuses on whatever shitty hallmark movie is playing, fingers rubbing against your hip stalling as he scoffs at whatever stupid decision the characters in the movie make.

But all you can do is laugh and kiss under his jaw while he complains, nuzzling your face into his neck when he stumbles over his words. Huffing now about how you’re throwing him off by acting how the characters in the movie should be acting.

I just wanna sweetly fluster the old man and make him feel loved.

The Duchess Approves

Thank you so much for request! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it. I’m just happy to get a Stan request. I’m a Ford girl, but I do love some Stanley. He’s the sweetest goober.

Tags: Fluff

You gave a relaxed sigh even as Stan talked over the TV. You were laid across him on his recliner. Your rear was between his legs , head on his chest, while your ankles were crossed over one of the arm rests. At first, you had hated that ugly, yellow chair. Now, it was the most comfortable place in the world.

When you had first started seeing Stan, he would take you out and show you off. However, the sugar baby allegations were too much for you to deal with. You loved this man. You didn’t care that he was forty years older than you. However, everyone else in town did.

Despite his assurances, it made you about uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, babe,” he had smirked, “they’re just jealous I get you all to myself.”

Still, you much preferred where you were now with your side pressed firm to his chest. You could tell he was trying to suck in the pudge he often hid behind a girdle. If only he knew how much you loved it.

Usually, his demeanor was so hard. His personality was gruff, but you knew the sweeter side, the softer side. That’s why you loved that little pooch that you could only ever full see when he was sleeping next to you.

“These idiots,” Stan grouched from above you. “Don’t they knew that’s not how you win a lady’s heart?” He bent you back in his lap and pressed a wet kiss to your mouth. When he pulled away, his face was covered in a smile. You blushed so beautifully. “Now, that’s how you win a lady.”

The two of you had watched The Duchess Knows a million times. Stan always said you loved it whenever someone caught him gabbing on and on. In truth, you couldn’t stand it, but it made him happy, so you would sit through it.

Lazily, his fingers drew shapes on your hips through your pajama pants. Your head rested on his chest, peppering kisses under his chin. He was so engrossed in whatever sleazy moves Count Lionel was making.

In a twist, the Count kissed the Duchess’s sister. Stan scoffed, his fingers on your hip stilling. He looked down at you. “You’d kill me if I ever did that crap! Who does he think he’s foolin’?” He shook his head, “He’s definitely not fooling me. I clocked him as a cad the moment I saw him.”

“Takes one to know one,” you snarked. You gave him another kiss.

He glanced down at you for a brief moment. “Listen here, toots, I may be a cad, but I’m your cad. Get over it.”

“Silly old man,” you sighed as you rested your head on his chest again. He pulled you in tighter. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

He nestled you deeper into his hold, body pressed flush against your side. He gave a huff. “Ya know, hot stuff, I’d fight any pantaloon wearing geek for you. Defend your honor and all that mushy stuff.”