#i forgot to paint his chest hair

[blessedbyartemis]

Just a bard, barding

[empresskylo]

knocking on price’s door late into the evening, remembering something important about the mission you forgot to say in the debriefing earlier. you don’t think much of it, always assuming price is at the ready. but he opens his door in nothing but sweatpants, hair slightly damp like he just got out of the shower. he raises a brow at you and you go red hot all over, completely flustered. “oh—uhm," completely losing your train of thought.

price follows your eyes as they struggle not to glance down at his bare chest. he attempts to disguise his smirk. “i’ve seen you gut men and paint the ground with their insides. and me shirtless is what's flustering ya?”

“i just didn't expect you to be...” you stutter, a bit mortified.

“i’ll put a shirt on if it makes ya feel better.” he smiles as he goes to grab a random shirt, quite satisfied with himself to have made you so bothered.

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 2

in which sexy construction worker!rafe who spends his days 'lifting heavy stuff and building shit' (his words) and driving shy!reader home, shows up on her doorstep in the middle of the night...

18+ mdni!

c/w: construction worker!rafe being a tease, slight somnophilia, smut (dry humping, p-in-v, unprotected sex)

wc: 2.7k

hi! this is a part two to this (also this whole story was originally supposed to be just a small blurb consisting of a few silly sentences but then i got a bit carried away :D) anyways hope you enjoy xx

part 3 part 4 part 5

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

It’s past midnight when her doorbell rings, making her brows furrow. She throws the fluffy covers away, immediately yearning for the warmth of them as she pads her bare feet along the chilly hardwood floors of her apartment.  

No one has ever been at her door this late, which makes her hesitate. Maybe it’s just her neighbor asking for sugar, she tries to reason, as if the retired elderly lady living next door would even be up this late. For all she knows, it could be a criminal who’s escaped prison, holding a bloody knife at her. 

Curiosity ends up getting the best of her (as always) when she gingerly opens the door, mentally preparing to face a serial killer.

However, all her worries wash away like pollen under rain when she realizes it’s Rafe standing tall before her. 

“Oh, hi. What are you— what are you doing here?” A surprised look paints over her visage.  

“You forgot this in my car, thought you might need it back,” he’s grinning, holding out a phone to her, pale yellow case making her realize it’s her phone. She almost doesn’t recognize it, since it appears so tiny in his massive paw, almost like a miniature version of the device she’s grown accustomed to.  

“Oh my god, I was looking everywhere for it, thought I was gonna have to buy a new one,” she takes it from him, a grateful smile etching her features.  

“Yeah, couldn’t exactly call you,” he shakes his head at his terrible attempt at a joke. 

A delighted giggle escapes her throat, nonetheless, eyes crinkling and teeth poking out; forcing the corners of his mouth to lift up as well as he finally takes in her appearance.  

A worn-out t shirt a few sizes too big and…well, that’s it. She’s not wearing anything else. He’s trying not to stare at her plush thighs, or the way the hem of the shirt slightly climbs up, revealing even more skin as she rakes a hand through a messy head of hair, swallowing nervously under his attention.  

Unfortunately for the both of them, he never actually ended up fucking her when she came over to his place last week and had him cook for her. He just felt so bad about initiating something like that when she kept yawning through forkfuls of pasta, eyes barely staying open as she complained about her limbs aching and how she was so exhausted she could sleep for a week after the particularly long shift she’d just had.  

Which is why he simply drove her home after their late-night dinner and wished her a good night with a heavy hand on her shoulder, thumb smoothing over the material of her shirt, letting her rest in tranquility. Telling himself he could be patient with her, not wanting to rush anything.  

However, she’s not making it very easy for him right now when there’s only one piece of clothing covering her. She looks so sleepy and pretty he has half the mind to pick her up in his arms and slump down on her bed, crawling under crisp sheets and feel how her lungs expand against his chest.  

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He carefully asks, suddenly worried he’s disturbed her serene slumber.  

“No, no. I mean, I was in bed but couldn’t really sleep so…” she trails off, desperately trying to come up with something to make him stay a bit longer, not wanting him to go yet; finding immense comfort in his assured presence.  

“Um, do you— do you want to come in? I could make you some tea or something?” She clumsily offers.  

His brows raise, surprised at her proposition. She’s being uncharacteristically bold; his mouth twists into an amused simper. 

“Actually, forget I said anything, you’re probably really tired and just wanna go home, sorry, I don’t know why I even—” she scrambles to correct herself, and now that sounds more like the girl Rafe’s grown familiar with.  

“Don’t be stupid, of course I’ll come in,” he cuts her off, stepping past the threshold, taking a look around her cozy home. Leafy plants adding greenery to the small space and picturesque paintings fixed on the cream-colored walls. It’s cute, he thinks.  

She sets a steaming mug in front of him on her kitchen table and sits down next to him on a wooden chair. He’s definitely not staring at the way the bottom of her shirt rides up the tops of her thighs, allowing for the flimsy material of her panties to peek out. He clears his throat.  

“You often have trouble sleeping?” He tries to focus on something else, anything else, taking a slow sip of the searing liquid; nearly burning his tongue in the process.  

“Yeah, sometimes. It’s just sometimes it’s hard to shut my brain off after spending all day at the cafe. I try to fall asleep but the loud noises of the customers talking and the clinking of plates and spoons keep replaying in my head and suddenly I’m wide awake, you know?” She explains.  

“I’m sorry, is there anything that helps?” He prods.  

“I don’t know, I guess just trying to think of something else or talking with someone else,” she mumbles out. 

“Oh, so what you’re saying is that you’re just using me in order to fall asleep?” He teases, grinning when he manages to drag out yet another giggle from her mouth.  

“Yeah, I suppose I am,” her eyes glimmer like little stars when she looks at him.  

“Should I feel offended right now?” He jokingly scoffs.  

“No, you should feel flattered, I don’t invite just anyone into my home at almost 1 am, just so you know.” 

And he thinks he likes this side of her, all playful and sleepy, she’s a lot less reserved than her usual fully rested and overly conscious self would be, more carefree. Maybe that’s the reason he lets the next words escape the gaps of his teeth.  

“You into cuddling?” He asks, profound aquamarine locking with her rounded eyes.  

“Uh— I mean, I probably would be if I had someone to cuddle with, but I don’t so…” she drifts off, not sure how to respond. 

“Wanna cuddle with me?” He says it so nonchalantly, and she doesn’t understand how he’s so indifferent to this whole situation while she feels dizzy, dazed mind reeling and vivid heart tingling in her ribcage. 

“Really? You want to? But wouldn’t it be weird?” She seems taken aback by his proposal. 

“Why the fuck would it be weird? I mean, we’re friends, right?” His brows crease. 

“Yes, of course we are, I just—” 

“Look, all I’m saying, is that it might help you sleep, yeah? Having something else to focus on and shit,” he reasons, making her realize she’s totally overthinking this; he’s simply trying to help.  

“You’re right, yeah, we should do that then,” she agrees and swiftly gets up on wobbly feet, almost falling face first on the ground, if not for his strong grip on her waist steadying her, grounding her, drawing a faint gasp from the back of her throat at his sudden proximity.  

“Easy there, Sweetheart,” he chuckles against her hair, finding her eagerness to get into bed with him amusing.  

“Sorry,” she mumbles, a raspberry hue dusting over her cheeks.  

And that’s how they end up tangled in each other under her soft sheets, his beefy arms wrapped tightly around her middle, caging her in with gentle fingertips toying with the hem of her shirt. His sturdy chest rises and falls against her back in tandem with his steady breaths, pacifying her; coaxing her heavy lids to flutter closed.  

He’s so warm and big making her feel so secure and safe she thinks she wouldn’t mind doing this again.  

“You good?” He murmurs next to her ear.  

“Mhm,” she blissfully croons, letting out a content exhale.  

Her mind begins to topple over the edge of reality, plummeting into oblivion; a far away dreamland where everything is upside down and the ether is evermore the shade of fluffy cotton candy and the sand consists of stardust and ecstasy.  

“Sweet dreams,” is the last thing her misty awareness grasps onto before she’s in the tender embrace of a crepuscular dormancy.  

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

She’s lethargic in her movements when she rouses from the abstruse blankness she seems to have lost herself in. Rafe’s heavy arm is draped over her waist, trapping her body into his and it’s murky in her unlit bedroom; the pale moonlight gleaming through the slots in her curtains the only beacon illuminating the space.  

The lines of her cerebrum are blurred and she’s not sure what has woken her up.  

Then she feels it; something poking her from behind, pressing against her ass. There’s a crinkle in her brow until her eyes widen in realization.  

He’s hard. Rafe is hard and she can practically feel the culprit of his excitement since he’s only wearing a pair of boxers, having complained about getting all too hot during the night to wear anything more. 

She swallows.  

What is she supposed to do? 

She shifts against him, trying to untangle her limbs from his. However, her attempt is proved fruitless when instead of unchaining her, he lets out a low groan, rumbling deep from his firm chest; grip tightening around her smaller form.  

“Rafe?” She calls out. 

No response.  

“Rafe? Wake up.”  

Still nothing. 

She can feel him breathing heavily against her hair; pawing at her hips every now and then, trying to pull her even closer, even if they’re already effectively glued together and there’s absolutely no means for her to move.  

She’s starting to become sticky between her thighs as he drags her against his cock again; seemingly stuck in a stupor.  

She mewls when her clit throbs, pestering for some sort of friction. And that’s when he finally stirs, the weight of his arms loosening like a tight knot unfurling and her lungs are finally able to greedily suck in brisk air.  

“Shit, sorry, my bad” his tone is gravelly and at that, some sort of birds begin flapping their wings in her tummy, jabbing at her insides. 

However, he doesn’t pull away like she half expects; her face heats up. 

“It’s uh— it’s okay. I mean…no worries,” she rambles because what the fuck is she supposed to say? 

“No, it’s fully my fault, just had quite a nice dream,” he admits, voice coarse. 

“Oh. What was it about?” She inquires, yawning, perhaps too curious for her own good.  

“You wanna know?” His brows raise, surprised. 

She hums.  

“Well, there was this really pretty girl, and she had me in her mouth and was letting me do whatever I wanted to her,” he murmurs with a heady tone overlaying his response.  

“Oh,” she tries to appear indifferent, although there’s a pitiful sprout of jealousy threatening to blossom from the damp soil in the pit of her stomach at his words.  

He chuckles at how oblivious she is. “You’re silly sometimes, you know?” He was practically dry-humping her just now, was he not? Why would he be dreaming about another girl when he’s got her right here with him? 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, smiling to himself.  

“So, what else happened?”  

“What else? Okay, then she let me do this,” he says at the same time as he grabs her hips again, pushing against her, earning a faint whimper from her when she can feel how big he is through the thin fabric of her underwear. 

“Rafe…what are you doing?” She manages to ask through a whine; his blunt nails denting the exposed skin of her thighs.  

“Got no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?” He mutters, shallow. 

“I— what are you— what are you talking about?” Her brain is foggy and she’s not able to think straight when he’s so close.  

He doesn’t answer, instead continuing the retelling of his dream. “Then I grabbed her like this,” he lifts her on top of him in one smooth motion, as if she weighs nothing more than a piece of paper. Her inhale gets stuck somewhere along the way when he paws at her hips, shuffling her around until she’s straddling him, properly sitting on top of his cock and he lets out a heartfelt grunt when she moves her achy cunt over him.  

“You like this? Such a needy little thing, yeah?” He helps her find some relief by grappling at her hips; dragging her against his cock, filthy groans escaping his mouth when he feels her wetness saturating the two layers of cotton between them.  

“Rafe, can you…”  

��Can I what, hm? Play with you a little?” He says as he slips a hand in her panties, fingers petting at her puffy clit and a loud moan leaves her when she lifts the fabric of her shirt up in order to have a better view.  

“Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl. Getting real fucking wet from me just being close to you, yeah?” His thumb rubs lazy circles on her sensitive button, making her cry out his name as she presses down harder against his cock. 

“Shit, gonna come in my fucking pants if you keep doing that. You wanna know what else was in my dream?” 

She nods, frantic.  

“I pushed this little piece of fabric here to the side,” he says as he plucks at her underwear, doing just that. “And then, I did this,” he mutters as he takes himself out from the confines and her eyes round out as she looks down at it in his palm, mesmerized. He thuds the head of his cock on her clit, one, two, three times, and then smears it on her sticky folds, painting it up and down her soaked cunt.  

“Rafe…” she whines, desperate to feel him inside her. Unfortunately for her, he’s feeling a little mean, pressing just the tip inside her tight hole, slowly pushing in and out, turning her into a whimpering mess. The hydrangea blue of his eyes is locked down to where they connect, fascinated.  

“Fuck, Sweetheart, does that feel nice?” He asks, swiping a thumb over her swollen bud, tucking his cock in a little deeper, forcing a loud noise to leave her throat.  

“Feels so good, Rafe, I think I’m gonna…” she trails off, lids heavy as she stretches around him.  

“You’re gonna come already?” he chuckles, amusement coating his face, nudging his dick about halfway in and out, never fully plunging it inside of her though.  

“You feel so good, I can’t— can’t hold it,” water droplets are gathering in the corners of her eyes, catching to her lashes as teary eyes look into larimar and she rolls her hips against him, chasing after some sort of release. 

“Shit, go on then, let me feel you soak my cock, yeah?” He encourages her and she doesn’t need to be told twice; crying out and throbbing around him, hips stuttering as her cunt pulses and she’s unspooling on top of him. 

“There you go, just fucking give it to me,” he grunts and all of a sudden, he feels his own orgasm approaching; rolling down a hill like a landslide. She’s squeezing around him so tight, he can’t help but thrust his hips into her, a guttural moan leaving him when he stuffs his cock profoundly into her, to the hilt.  

He stills inside her and then he’s groaning out when his cum gushes out from his drippy tip, coating her gummy walls in white, filling her to the brim; making her feel so full. She thinks she could die happy right now.  

There’s so much of it, to the point where the sticky substance begins to seep out from where they’re connected as they both pant, trying to even out their breathing.  

She turns into something mellow in his arms, slumping down against him, burying her face in his neck as he draws sluggish circles on her back, calming her down with tender words spoken in gentle murmurs.  

“Did so good for me, shit, we should do this more often, yeah?” He says with a sleepy tinge.   

And she’s completely out of it, head as empty as ever, merely managing an amorphous hum in agreement; tumbling down a slippery slide right back into a nebulous slumber. 

[2tarbell]

more trailer park!rafe drabbles i beg

maybe something with crybaby!reader too, like he comes home from a long ass day and she’s crying over the silliest thing ever.

but of course he makes her feel better.

love ur writing smm !!

he knew he was in for it when he came home and she wasn’t waiting patiently for him. if he didn’t know any better, rafe would assume the quaint trailer was empty — but the call you shared earlier on his lunch break detailed your plans around the house for the day, so there was no fuckin’ reason for it be as quiet as it was.

his confusion turned to concern when he heard little sniffles and sobs coming from the bathroom. rafe dropped his keys in the bowl and hurried off further into the trailer, in search of his girl.

pushing the bathroom door open with a rough hand, his mind went to the worst places when he saw her crumpled up on the floor. instantly he scooped her up onto the counter. his voice was a flurry of sounds she couldn’t decipher through her tears. the warm cadence she’s become so familiar with instantly providing some relief.

“hey, hey, baby — look at me, you hurt?” his hands are moving fast, holding her cheeks and checking for any injuries to that beautiful face.

she could only shake her head, hiccuping and trying to speak between sobs.

“rafe— dad— daddy—“

he hums and looks over her body. blue eyes checking off a list of what’s ‘normal’. when he finds nothing bleeding or falling off — that intense gaze finds hers, urging her to calm down.

his voice cooed, low and rumbly in a way that always soothes her, “shh, dad’s here, what happened? hm? someone — someone do somethin’ t’you or—“

“muh — my nails!” she interrupted, voice a petulant mumble.

rafe froze, mouth agape and eyes blinking in confusion. he looked down and took her smaller hands in his. turning them over and feeling the smooth skin. no cuts, no bruises—

the fact that he didn’t immediately know what she was talking about sends her into another spiral. yanking her hands from his and covering her eyes as sobs shook her shoulders.

“okay, okay, can’t help if you’re cryin’. talk t’me— what about your nails, honey?”

she sniffs and thrusts them in his face, rafe now seeing something out of the ordinary — chipped baby blue polish.

“wanted— wanted to paint them f’you. ‘cuz— ‘cuz s’the same color as your eyes but forgot they weren’t dry yet so i tried to make dinner and— and i ruined them!”

everyday the universe was testing his patience.

a sharp sigh out of his nose and rafe let his head fall forward. relief and disbelief pooled in his chest. she was this worked up over nail polish?

a low grumble of her name ceased her tears until they were just little sniffles of sadness. any other person and rafe would’ve been out the door with a specific finger showing his annoyance. but this was his person, his precious girl, and if she was this worked up over nail polish — he was going to indulge her. he picked up his head, eyes tired from a long days work but soft in a way meant just for her. he spoke in that way that makes her all fuzzy for him.

“jesus christ, that’s— yeah, okay. baby, ‘m— ‘m sorry. y’just wanted t’do somethin’ sweet f’dad, yeah?”

hook, line, and sinker. reader huffed and nodded as she leaned forward into his chest. her little gasps punctuated his cooing. within minutes, she was putty in his arms, nuzzling closer and closer. rafe littered kisses over her hair, gently rocking her until her head lifted off his chest. wet cheeks and a red nose greeted him and he couldn’t stop the adoring coo from falling out as he wiped her face.

“thereee you are— my sweet girl… better now?”

she nodded at his words, almost hypnotized by the gentle tone of his voice. a little hiccup fell out when she caught sight of her messy nails, but rafe quickly shushed her.

“shh, no more cryin’. y’gotta be a big girl, a’ight? c’mon, whaddaya need?”

she wished she had a picture of this big man patiently painting and blowing on her nails — that matched his eyes.

[nhlclover]

𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: you and luke say your goodbyes to jack and step into the newest chapter of your lives.

warnings: fluff, insinuation of smut towards the end

word count: 1.12k

The living room was a chaotic sea of boxes, turning your new apartment into a maze that the three of you had to carefully navigate. Some boxes were stacked precariously high, swaying slightly with each step you took, as if daring gravity to take hold. Others were haphazardly strewn across the floor, creating narrow pathways that forced you to sidestep and twist around just to get from one end of the room to the other. The faint scent of fresh paint still lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy smell of cardboard, a constant reminder that this place was truly new — truly yours.

“Oh god, this is going to take forever to unpack,” you sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face as you stood amidst the chaos that had consumed your new home. The task before you felt insurmountable, like you’d need a week just to clear a path to the kitchen.

Luke stepped closer, his presence a comforting anchor amid the disarray. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you into his side, his warmth easing the stress that had begun to coil in your chest. “Yeah…” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, before leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “Maybe we start that tomorrow.”

Jack, who had been lugging boxes back and forth from the truck all afternoon, dropped the latest one—a heavy box labelled Kitchen—onto the couch with a thud. He let out an exaggerated sigh as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. “You sure you got everything?” he asked, casting a weary glance around the room that seemed to get more cluttered with each passing minute.

“I did a final scan right before we left… I think we’ve got everything,” you answered.

“And Jack, even if we forgot something, it’s not like we’re far,” Luke added.

After living with Jack for Luke’s first season in New Jersey, you’d finally decided it was time to get your own place. Jack had been a great roommate, but you and Luke had long reached the point in your relationship where it was time to be on your own. Although Jack had long joked about wanting you out of “his house”, you knew deep down he was going to miss having you as a roommate.

You slipped out of Luke’s grasp, taking a few steps toward Jack and giving him a playful poke in the side. “You know, Jack, I think you’re gonna miss me when I’m not here to clean up after your messes.”

Jack scoffed, though the smile he tried to suppress betrayed him. “Please, I’ll finally have some peace and quiet without the two of you bickering constantly.”

You and Luke both scoffed, seeing right through him. “Yeah right, you’ll be lost without us here.” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Luke chuckled, shaking his head at his brother. “You know, you can admit you’ll miss her, right? I know I would.”

Jack shook his head, trying to play it cool, but the small crack in his facade was obvious. “I’ll survive. I mean, who needs a sister-in-law who steals the last of the cereal?”

You laughed, the sound filling the room as you pulled Jack into a quick hug. Despite all the teasing, you knew Jack had genuinely enjoyed having you around. He had never complained about the extra person in his space, and you suspected he would miss the lively energy you and Luke brought to the apartment.

“Thanks for putting up with us, Jack,” you said softly, squeezing him a little tighter before letting go. “And don’t worry, we’ll still come around to raid your cereal.”

Jack smirked, shaking his head. “Just don’t make a habit of it.”

As you stepped back, Luke was quick to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close once more. The three of you stood there for a moment, surrounded by the boxes that represented a new chapter in your lives. The apartment you and Luke had chosen together was just a few blocks away, but it felt like a world of difference. It was the first place that would truly be yours—no longer just a guest in someone else’s home but a space where you and Luke could continue building your life together.

Jack gave you a mock salute as he headed toward the door. “Alright, lovebirds, I’m out. Don’t call me to help unpack.”

You grinned, watching him go. “We won’t,” you called after him, your voice filled with affection.

As the door clicked shut behind Jack, you and Luke were left in the stillness of your new apartment. The silence was almost overwhelming, but it was a comforting kind of quiet—the kind that spoke of new beginnings. You glanced around the room, taking in the boxes that surrounded you, before letting out a long, tired sigh and leaving Luke’s comforting grasp. “We should probably get a head start on this.”

Luke groaned, but you both knew you were right. Together, you tackled the important things—the bed, a few personal effects, and other essentials you’d need right away. When exhaustion finally got the better of you, you collapsed onto the couch—the only piece of furniture that wasn’t buried under a mountain of boxes.

Luke’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he gave you a gentle squeeze. “We did it,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and pride.

“Yeah, we did,” you echoed, leaning your head against his shoulder. The reality of it all was just beginning to sink in. This was your home now. A place that belonged to the two of you, where you could make memories that were just yours.

Luke shifted slightly, turning his head to press a kiss to the top of your head. “I think we should celebrate,” he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes that you couldn’t ignore.

You laughed softly, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “Oh? And how do you propose we do that?”

A slow grin spread across Luke’s face, and you didn’t need him to spell it out to know exactly what he had in mind. Luke shifted closer to you, his lips brushing against yours. “We should christen the place,” he murmured.

The wave of exhaustion lifted, a new sensation of excitement filling your bones. You didn’t need any more convincing. The boxes could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, you had more important things to attend to. With a laugh, you tugged him off the couch and led him toward the bedroom.

[xxsabitoxx]

Here’s a Baby Fever Sanemi teaser for an imagine I started working on in August and simply… forgot about 😔

“Yeah, I do.” he breathed out, eyes focusing on your intertwined hands, chest picking up in pace as you both entered untouched territory with this conversation. “Well, indulge me, paint me a pretty picture, Sanemi.” He laughed, letting you go now so you could finally turn your body and face him properly. “Paint you a picture, hmm?” he questioned in a low tone, smirking at you as you nodded eagerly, that familiar glint in your eyes. You were sitting on your knees now, hands clasped neatly before you on your lap while you waited for him to speak. “Well, would you like me to paint this picture verbally, or would you rather I show you in a more… hands on way?”

You smirked, bringing your hand up to your cheek to tap it idly, pretending to think about the answer. “Well I’ve always been more of a visual learner…” You squealed, that was all Sanemi needed to hear before he was pouncing on you. The force of him pushing you back against the couch nearly took the wind out of you, laughing loudly as he nuzzled his face into your neck. You kept laughing, the feathery light kisses on your skin were ticklish. Your hands found their home in his hair, playing with the soft strands as his lips moved closer to your mouth. Sanemi loved the sound of your laughter, especially if he was the one making you laugh.

Sanemi’s lips met yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your laughter as he spread your legs apart to accommodate his weight. Your lips parted easily for him, allowing him to lick his way past your lips and dancing around your own tongue. He tasted as sweet as the honey in his tea, warm and inviting as your mouths moved against each other. Your hands intertwined in his white locks, tugging at the roots until he was shivering from the sensation. Each tug caused his cock to grow harder, the thrill of your body sending him over the edge as his hips subconsciously rolled into yours. Breathless, you parted, his face hovering just above yours as his hands came down to cup your cheek. “If we really do this, you know there is no going back, right?”

“I know, I want this.” Your tone was softer, your hands untangling from his hair so you could hold his scarred cheeks just as he held your own. “Make me a mommy, Sanemi.”

[vanteguccir]

can you do when the triplets go to Boston and Matt gets to see his sneaky link after no physical contact in two months and fans see them after fucking 

── ୨୧ !　BLURB

fwb!matt sturniolo x reader

where you and fwb!matt reunite again after some weeks, and the back home vlog caught your state after fucking

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Matt’s heart raced as he laid beside Y/N, the faint glow of the setting sun peeking through the window blinds casting shadows across his childhood bedroom. The familiar scent of his cologne, mixed with a hint of her perfume, hung in the air; an intoxicating blend of familiarity and desire.

Being back in Boston brought with it a surge of emotions, but seeing Y/N again after weeks apart had his feelings on overdrive. His hand brushed softly over her bare back, fingers tracing lazy circles as the two of them caught their breath.

The faintest of smiles tugged at the corners of her mouth as she curled into his side, the soft hum of his breathing calming her.

"You know, I missed this." He murmured, his voice low, still laced with arousal, as he turned to look at her. His deep blue eyes softened as they met hers, his thumb grazing over her cheek. "Missed you."

Y/N smirked, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his collarbone.

"You better have." She teased, feeling his chest rumble with a low chuckle. "It’s been weeks, Matt. I thought you forgot all about me."

He shifted, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at her, his face still glowing and eyes still dazed from the recent fucking they had.

"Forget you? Never." His voice was serious now, a flash of something deeper passing through his eyes before he covered it with a crooked grin. "Besides, you know I could never stay away from that pussy for long."

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Y/N asked, shaking her head as laughter escaped her mouth.

The moment lingered, both of them knowing there was more beneath the surface.

A loud knock echoed through the room, making both of them jolt.

"Matt! We’re about to film downstairs! You’re joining or what?" Nick’s voice called out from the hallway, shattering the bubble of peace around them.

Matt groaned, falling back onto the bed.

"Shit, I forgot about that."

Y/N let out a soft laugh, sitting up and quickly realizing the state Matt was in. His skin was still blotchy, and his hair was a wild mess, sticking up in all directions.

"You look like you’ve been through a storm." Y/N teased, running a hand through his disheveled hair as she attempted to smooth it down.

He chuckled, grabbing her wrist and pressing a kiss to the inside of it.

"Speak for yourself. You don’t exactly look put together either."

"Shit." Y/N muttered, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the room. "They’re going to notice..."

Matt’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Let them think what they want. It’s not like Nick and Chris don’t already have their suspicions."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest didn’t fade. There was something exhilarating about being back here with Matt, even with the possibility of being caught by his brothers. It was the thrill of sneaking around, the shared glances that held secrets, the unspoken connection that kept pulling the two of them back together every time they thought it was over.

Reluctantly, the two of them made their way downstairs, trying to make themselves look as presentable as possible.

Matt walked slightly ahead of her, his fingers brushing through his hair in a futile attempt to smooth down the mess Y/N had made of it upstairs. His back was straight, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced with an uncharacteristic stiffness as he tried his best to look composed.

Y/N, on the other hand, could feel the remnants of their recent activities painted across her face. A quick glance in the hallway mirror had confirmed it: her hair was wild and slightly frizzy from Matt’s hands pulling it, her eyes were glossy with that unmistakable post-sex daze, and her lips were plump and still tingling from all the fervent kissing.

She cursed under her breath, wishing she had taken more time to fix herself up, but now it was too late.

When they entered the living room, Matt immediately put some distance between the two of them. His hand, which had just moments ago been all over Y/N, now awkwardly shoved into his pocket. Y/N couldn’t help but smirk to herself at how hard he was trying to act normal.

He had moved to the far side of the room, picking up a random water bottle from the kitchen counter and taking a long gulp, clearly stalling for time. But it didn’t matter how much space he put between them. The evidence was still all over him.

Nick was already talking to the camera, barely glancing at the two of them, but Chris, sitting at the couch while tying his converse so they could go out, wasn’t as subtle. His sharp gaze flickered over Matt first, taking in his slightly crumpled clothes, the flushed red tint to his usually pale skin, and the way his hair was more messy than usual.

Then, Chris’s eyes drifted to Y/N, a knowing smirk already curling at the edges of his lips.

Y/N shifted under Chris’s scrutiny, attempting to fix her hair in vain, but there was no hiding. Her clothes, though she had tried to straighten them before coming downstairs, still looked slightly rumpled, like they had been tugged at and rearranged in haste. Chris didn’t say anything right away, but Y/N could tell he was mentally filing it away for later.

"So, uh, we’re back in Boston for the weekend, visiting family and all that... It’s been a minute since we’ve been home, so we’re filming a little ‘back home’ vlog for you guys." Nick’s voice broke the tension as he explained what they would be doing for the day, shifting into his more energetic on-camera persona. Matt stood awkwardly off to the side, attempting to stay out of frame for the moment, but it wasn’t long before Nick called him out. "Oh, Matt is finally here, too."

Matt took a deep breath as he noticed Nick pointing the camera at him, standing as casually as he could manage, though his body language was stiff, as if trying too hard not to look guilty.

"And Y/N too, y'all remember her, right? She was always with us..."

Y/N smiled awkwardly to the camera lens, waving slowly, still not used to being in a video frame - much less in those conditions -, trying to act as though everything was normal.

Chris leaned back on the couch, clearly relishing the opportunity. He gave Matt a sideways glance, his smirk widening as Nick kept talking to the camera, never one to miss an opportunity for a jab, cut in smoothly.

"Matt’s really been enjoying being back, huh?" His eyes flicked to Y/N briefly, but it was Matt who bore the brunt of his teasing. "What’ve you been up to, man? You look a little... red there."

Matt visibly stiffened, his face flushing even more at the comment. He shot Chris a warning glare, but Chris just grinned wider, clearly enjoying how flustered his brother was.

"Nothing, just... chilling." Matt muttered, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Nick, oblivious to the tension, carried on, but Chris wasn’t done yet. As Nick talked to the camera about their plans for the vlog, Chris leaned in slightly closer to Y/N - who was standing too close -, his voice low but just loud enough for the camera’s mic to catch.

"You too, kid." He said, eyes flicking over her with a teasing glint. "Missed us, huh?" His tone was dripping with sarcasm, and Y/N could feel her face heating up even more.

Y/N shot him a playful glare, trying to act like his teasing wasn’t getting to her, but it was hard to ignore the way her heart raced every time he looked between her and Matt. The two of them had done a good job of keeping their sneaky link under wraps for years, but it was clear Chris wasn’t buying the act anymore.

Nick, now noticing the back-and-forth, finally picked up on the vibe in the room. He paused mid-sentence, glancing between the three of them with furrowed brows.

"Wait, what’s going on here?" He asked, looking confused.

Chris waved him off, still grinning.

"Nothing, just messing with them. I mean, come on, doesn’t Matt look like he’s been... busy?"

Nick’s eyes flicked to Matt, then to Y/N, before his face lit up with realization. He tried to suppress a laugh, but it came out anyway.

"Oh yeah, you’re right. Matt looks like he just ran a marathon."

Matt groaned, running a hand through his hair as he tried to play it off.

"Can we just get on with the vlog?" He muttered, clearly desperate to change the subject, fishing his mother's car keys from the coffee table, ready to go to wherever they wanted to go without a complaint.

Nick finally gave in, though he was still chuckling under his breath as he turned back to the camera.

"Alright, let’s get back on track. We’ve got a lot to show you guys this weekend."

But even as the camera continued to roll and the vlog progressed, she and Matt exchanged a few glances, fresh memories of touches and pure pleasure running through their minds.

And sure enough, once the vlog was posted later that night, the comments started flooding in almost immediately.

"Y/N and matt look like they've gone through hell (or heaven) LMAO 😭"

"who knew matt had that in him"

"omg he looks so fucking hot like that 😩"

"HIS HAIR????? UGHHHH"

"post-sex matt just hits different (I'm so sure they had sex before that vlog)"

"chris is definitely the younger brother and I can prove it"

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as she scrolled through the comments, feeling Matt’s arm wrap around her bare shoulders as the two of them lay on her bed, naked bodies only covered by thin sheets. Despite the teasing, despite how obvious it had all been, there was something thrilling about it; something that made sneaking around even more fun.

"Maybe next time we’ll be more subtle." Matt whispered in Y/N’s ear, his breath warm against her skin, his lips wrapping around the soft flesh of her jaw.

Y/N smirked, throwing her phone to the side and letting her head fall to the opposite side, opening way for his mouth.

"Or maybe we just won’t care."

[moons-and-mobility-aids]

Halo~~ can I request and Poly!Marauders (James, Sirius and Remus) x fem!reader? Where reader has recurring hypoglycemia and ends up standing the boys up on a date because her levels had been finicky all day and she forgot to tell them. So when they go find her to confront her about it they find her on the floor on like the verge of unconsciousness (or maybe she's already passed out) with dangerously low levels and help her like the good loving boyfriend's they are. Pretty please 🥺

Thank you for this request! I had fun with it, and I hope this works for you! 💞 Poly!marauders x fem!reader 💞 2.2k words

The sun dips lower in the sky, painting hues of lavender and pink across the horizon. It's the perfect backdrop for the evening you've been anticipating all week with James, Sirius, and Remus—a night filled with laughter and camaraderie. They've planned something big, no doubt; James has been jokingly boasting about his "romantic genius," while Sirius grins like a Cheshire cat and Remus rolls his eyes, though the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. Their good humour is infectious, and you can't help but look forward to whatever they have in store.

But today, your body doesn't seem to be on the same page as your mind. You've woken up with trembling hands and a light head, your blood sugar levels fluctuating in a way that makes your stomach churn. You're not new to hypoglycaemia—you've had episodes before, each one leaving you weak and shaky—but today it lingers, refusing to let go despite your best efforts to stabilise it. You push through, hoping to shake it off, but the fatigue clings to you like a second skin, weighing you down.

"Just a little rest," you tell yourself, sinking into the couch. "I'll feel better after."

Setting an alarm, you allow your eyes to flutter closed, promising yourself that it's only for a moment before you get ready. You know you should let the boys in on what's happening, but the thought of explaining—of offering up excuses yet again—seems too daunting. Too draining. Instead, you tell yourself it will pass. It always does. A quick nap should help; then you can join them, fresh-faced and ready for the evening's escapades.

---

The air is thick with tension at the small restaurant where you agreed to meet. James sits with his back to the wall, his foot tapping out a rhythm of worry against the table leg. He checks his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes, his brow furrowed.

"She's late," he mutters, though everyone at the table is painfully aware. "She's never late."

Sirius glances toward the door again, his usual swagger replaced by something more akin to concern. "Maybe she got held up," he offers, but there's a tightness in his voice that belies his nonchalant exterior.

Remus's eyes flicker between the two, worry etching deep lines in his already weary face. "She would've sent word if she couldn't make it—she always does."

James rubs a hand through his unruly hair, the action doing nothing to quell the unease that creeps into every crevice of his being. "That's what has me worried," he admits, gaze far off. "It's not like her to just... vanish."

"Then we should go and see for ourselves if she's all right," Remus suggests, rising from his seat. The chair scrapes against the floor, a grating sound that mirrors the tension threading through each man's veins. "Better safe than sorry."

"Agreed." Sirius pushes away from the table, his frame rigid with an intensity borne of concern. "Let's go."

Without another word, they leave the restaurant behind, its warmth and light becoming a distant memory as they step into the biting night air. Their footfalls echo down the empty streets, a testament to their shared apprehension.

The apartment is eerily still as they approach, the silence hanging heavy in the air like a shroud. Something about it feels wrong, disjointed, and Sirius is the first to cross the threshold, his heart pounding in his chest. "Y/N?" he calls out, his voice laced with both worry and hope. But there's no answer, just the echo of his own words bouncing off the walls.

James follows closely behind him, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of you. Remus brings up the rear, his gaze taking in every detail, a frown etching deep lines into his forehead.

"Over here!" James' shout breaks the tense quietude, his voice edged with panic. He's found you unconscious on the couch, your body too still. In an instant, he's at your side, dropping to his knees and pressing two fingers against your pulse point.

"She's breathing," he says, relief washing over him, but it's short-lived. "It's shallow, though. And her pulse... It's too fast."

Before he can say anything more, Remus is already moving, his long strides carrying him to the kitchen where the emergency kit is kept. His hands are steady as he reaches for the Baqsimi nasal spray, fingers deftly peeling away the red stripe that seals it. The lid comes off with a soft pop, revealing the small device within.

Sirius kneels beside James, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushes lightly against your skin. His face is a mask of fear, guilt, and resolve. "Why didn't she tell us?" he murmurs more to himself than anyone else, the question hanging heavily in the air.

He turns to Remus, his grey eyes hardening. "Are you ready?"

"Always," Remus replies with a steady voice that belies the tremor in his hands. He positions the nozzle of the spray into one of your nostrils, his brow furrowed in concentration. "This should help. Just hold on."

With a gentle push, he depresses the plunger, watching as the green line marking the dose disappears. There's a collective holding of breaths as they wait for any sign of change.

"We've got to hope for the best," Sirius says, though his voice wavers slightly. "She'll pull through. She has to."

"Of course she will," James adds, his fingers tightening around yours, as if he could will you back to consciousness through sheer force of grip. His free hand finds your other cheek, his thumb tracing circles over the cool skin. "She's stronger than this."

Remus is already moving again, his long fingers sifting through the cupboards for the quick sugars he knows you keep on hand. He retrieves a carton of orange juice and a box of crackers, sparing no time in spreading peanut butter across the crackers and pouring out a glass of juice. Once prepared, he places the items on the low coffee table before sinking onto the edge of the couch. "We should give her these when she comes around."

The room falls into a tense silence as they wait, their gazes never straying far from your prone form. Sirius's hand hovers over your shoulder before finally making contact, his knuckles ghosting over the fabric of your shirt. His eyes, usually so full of mischief, are shadowed with concern. "She scared us," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

"More than that," James says, his tone gruff with unshed emotion. "I can't—"

His sentence hangs unfinished, the weight of it too heavy for words. Instead, he reaches out, brushing away a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

And then, so faint it's nearly missed, there's a shift. A soft groan escapes your lips, barely audible but enough to cause their hearts to leap. Your eyelids flutter, struggling against the pull of unconsciousness.

"Finally," Sirius mutters, relief flooding his features even as his brows knit together in a scowl. "Took your sweet time, didn't you?"

James leans in closer, his breath hitching as your eyes begin to open. He presses a warm kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. "You're okay," he says, his words more of a prayer than a statement. "We've got you."

Sirius moves to help you sit up; his touch is steady, firm yet careful, like he's afraid you might shatter at any moment. The room spins slightly as you're lifted, but Sirius' presence is grounding, a reminder of reality amidst the haze of confusion.

"Easy there," Remus says, his voice soft yet commanding. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, not quite reaching his eyes, which remain clouded with concern. He picks up the glass from the coffee table, the contents sloshing gently.

"Here," Remus coaxes, holding the straw to your lips. "Take small sips, slowly."

The juice is cold and slightly tart in your mouth, a stark contrast to the warmth spreading from your core. You reach to hold the glass, but your hands shake, the tremors betraying the weakness you feel. Remus keeps his grip on the glass, steady as always.

You try to sit up straighter, to focus on the faces hovering around you, but every movement feels heavy, slow. The room tilts a little, and you wince, shutting your eyes. When you open them again, they're still there, all watching you, their expressions etched with concern.

"What..." Your voice is a raspy whisper, barely there. "What happened?"

"Scared the bloody hell out of us, you did," Sirius says, his tone equal parts relief and frustration. He leans back in his chair, passing a hand across his face. "We found you passed out. Your blood sugar was dangerously low."

"We used the nasal spray," Remus explains, his voice steady despite the gravity of his words. "You're lucky it acted quickly."

Your brow furrows as you try to make sense of the day's events. "I—" You begin, but your throat constricts around the admission. "I didn't mean to..."

"We know," James says quietly, his hand covering yours where it rests on the cup. "But you need to tell us when you're not feeling well, love. We could've stepped in sooner."

"I didn't want to ruin the date," you mumble, guilt curdling in your stomach.

"Ruin?" Remus's eyebrows knit together. "That's not how this works." His tone is stern but laced with worry, not anger. "Your health comes first, always. You could have—" He stops, a grimace passing over his face as if the words themselves are painful. "You could have taken a turn for the worse before we found you."

"Exactly," Sirius interjects, his voice softer than before. "You don't spoil anything by telling us you need help. We love you, Y/N."

A lump forms in your throat as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You cast your gaze down to the cup of juice. "I'm sorry."

"Hey." James reaches out, gently tilting your chin up until you're looking at him. The concern in his hazel eyes is almost too much to bear. "No more apologies, all right? Just let us help you. That's what we want."

The corners of Sirius's mouth lift into a small smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head—a gesture that feels as much a promise as it does an act of care. "Exactly. You're not getting rid of us that easily, so you might as well let us look after you."

Remus chuckles softly, though there's a tightness in his shoulders that suggests he's far from relaxed. "And speaking of which—finish the juice. Then we'll get some food in you."

"I'm fine," you murmur, but it's a feeble protest at best.

James's grin is slight, more a quirk of the lips than a full smile, but it's there, a glimmer of light amid the shadows. He picks up a cracker spread with peanut butter and extends it towards you. "Come on, open up. Don't make me do the airplane noises."

Your lips quirk despite yourself, a response to James's levity. You take the offered morsel, and for a moment, the air in the room loosens, the tension fraying at its edges as they watch you eat.

Remus shakes his head, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You're lucky we look out for you."

"And you'll never hear the end of it," Sirius adds, his grin broadening. "We'll remind you every chance we get."

James lets out a quiet chuckle, but it quickly fades, replaced by a solemn expression. "Good," he says, his gaze steady on yours. "Because we won't let this happen again."

You finish the juice and crackers, every last crumb swept away, and as the warmth gradually returns to your body, so too does a sense of calm. James tucks a blanket around your shoulders, ensuring you're as comfortable as possible. Sirius settles beside you, his arm a steady presence around your shoulders while Remus remains at your feet, gently massaging your ankle.

James sits on the floor in front of you, his back resting against the edge of the coffee table. There's a tranquillity to him that wasn't there before, a resolution settling over his features. "You need to rest now," he tells you, not as an order but as a suggestion born from concern. "We'll stay."

"Staying?" The word slips out before you can stop it, a small voice daring to hope. "You're not leaving?"

"Absolutely not," Sirius says, his voice firm and unyielding. "We're staying here tonight. You won't be alone."

Remus's eyes lift to meet yours, meeting your gaze with a gentle warmth that defies the harsh reality of your situation. "Of course not," he replies, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Until you're fed up with us," James adds, his own grin small but genuine.

A weak chuckle escapes your lips, though it does little to alleviate the tension coiled in your chest. "I don't think that's possible."

And as sleep begins to pull you under, the last thing you feel is the pressure of Sirius's hand on your skin, grounding you in this new reality. The last thing you hear is James's voice, low and steady as he whispers, "Always."

[railingsofsorrow]

drabble #11

summary: you are caught red handed squinting while reading and your coworkers don't let it slide.

w.c: 682

warnings/content: no warnings just fluff and bickering between friends; annoyance towards dirty lenses (based on a personal experience); secret relationship (implied).

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

━━━━━━━━━

“pretty girl.”

you were writing something down in a post-it note that you thought was relevant for the investigation before derek's voice came out of nowhere, startling you.

you look up at him, frowning, “why do you have to sneak up on people like that?”

“where are your glasses?” he inquired, narrowing you down with a suspicious look. his arms crossed over his chest as he had the serious stance he usually carried when he was trying to figure someone out. you straightened your back slightly, choosing to go back to your reading since you didn't have a reading speed of 20 000 words per minute and you also didn't want to answer that question.

see, here's the thing. glasses are annoying. dealing with dirty lenses is the worst part of wearing them, because as soon as you clean them up, they get absolutely filthy in the next second. also, you broke your lenses at least three times given your line of work.

so, yes, you purposely forgets them a few days a week to not deal with these issues.

maybe more than just a few days a week.

and your coworkers decided to make a comment or give you a look every time they catch you squinting up at a page.

“hey,” you glared up at derek morgan as he flickered your case file much to your annoyance. “i'm talking to you. where are your glasses? can you even see me right now?”

“shut up, derek.”

“do I need to get you a new pair to leave it here in the office?” he asked with indignation written all over his face. “that's the only way you'll wear them!”

“I don't need to wear them.” you practically hissed at him before he broadcasted the conversation into the entire bullpen. “they're reading glasses, it's not like I need to have them on all the time.”

“the strength of your glasses recently increased to 2. so you do need to wear them if you don't want it to get worst.” spencer dropped his things on his desk, butting in on the conversation as if he had been invited. you scowled, not the slightest amused. he only shrugged.

“see what I'm saying, pretty girl?” derek gave you a look. he resigned with a ruffle to your hair then walked away to make some coffee.

you let out a sigh, fixing up your strands in frustration.

“here.” you looked down at the object placed in your lap. “you forgot it at my place last night.” you blinked up at him, mouth agape.

“i-what?”

“at the bedside table?” spencer gave you a look. the faint memory of your eyeglasses case on top of his bedside table came to your mind.

which was why you couldn't recall where your glasses were at home. you had been late for work and decided to give up on the search.

but they weren't even at your place.

“I cleaned them up.” he added.

“oh. right.” you took the case from him, a coat of pink painting your cheeks. you hoped he didn't expect you were going to wear them. “thank you.”

“thankfully you didn't purposely forgot it at home, right?” spencer softly teased, poking your hip which earned a kick in his ankle.

“shut up.”

he chuckled, stealthily eyeing the bullpen that was fairly empty because it was still early in the morning. he leaned down and quickly pecked your cheek then the corner of your mouth.

“spencer!” you hissed, a warning in your tone as you looked around for any prying eyes.

grinning cheeky at you, he took a few steps back. probably to go to the kitchen to grab the coffee derek was taking too long to bring. “movie night at 8 again?” he mouthed.

with a roll of your eyes, you nod “yes.” you mouthed in return, sticking your attention back to the twenty files to be finished at your desk.

“put your glasses on!” he said out loud on purpose, now attracting attention.

you groaned, hiding your face between your hands.

idiot. an absolute idiot.

━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @lilyviolets

[carolmunson]

blood machine.

emperor geta x senator's daughter!reader songspiration: in keeping secrets of the silent earth 3 | coheed & cambria

did not once plan to write for this guy but here we are. also like, is it historically accurate? no. like, not even a little. (hell is mentioned and technically hell wasn't 'a place' until 400 BC but like WHATEVER.) am i making a semi effort? sorta kinda. have i been a little stoned every time i've worked on this? well, yes.

summary: when what was supposed to be a diplomatic dinner before a much bigger and lively feast becomes a marriage offer, all of the wine you drank turns to ash in your mouth. haters to haters, bay-bee. tw: 18+, drinking but like -- idk it's ancient rome, tension, fighting, some mild body shaming (??), a literal threat of domestic violence but again it's ancient rome so like i don't think they cared, two stupid little bitches who hate each other. mentions of war and ultimate distaste for the poor. reader kind of has lady macbeth vibes. my little evil queen.

Wine is poured, golden chalices exalted. You are a vision and he is a toad looking creature of a man that only his mother could love. Not quite his brother, never quite measuring up the same way -- always trying to puff his chest. It was easy to tease him, ego easy to bruise -- little brother. You’d spent time in your childhood tagging along with your brother and the other kids to taunt him, pathetic and whimpering. 'Tale teller!' you'd jeer, every time he'd run off to his mother to blubber over how mean you all were. And you were mean.

But people grow, as they do. And so did you -- still mean, but in a different way. Listening to meetings, reading maps, keeping tabs on new republics, on potential uprising. The poor -- the fucking poor. Finding new ways to keep them occupied so that they'd stop trying to find ways to be powerful. Powerful like you. Powerful like the man at the head of the table with a plum to his lips. And as it has been said, a man in possession of a good fortune and power, must be in need of a wife. It became clear when you arrived that this was not a business dinner before a grand feast, your parents simply forgot to mention what this was really about. Your best linens, your hair coiffed, your best jewelry, you should have known it had been a ruse the moment you got there. His home on Palatine just sparkling the way the gold on your fingers did, candles in the halls and stairways glittering when they hit the rubies and pearls on your chest and ears. When your father veers the conversation from politics and business to marriage you both choke, stern eyes glued to your mother's painted face. A business dinner where you are currency -- more than worthy. Just a few months shy of being eligible when Caracalla was, regrettably, forced to marry Flavia at the last moment. It would've been nice to have the gang together again in some capacity. Could've bullied the toad to assasinating himself if you were lucky enough. Total power. Complete upheaval. The more you thought about it, the more of it your craved. The pit in your stomach grew, if it wasn't with his brother -- even though you bore no attraction -- there was not a point at all. Geta didn't think nearly as critically, didn't hit hard enough, didn't strategize correctly. You'd never even seen him pick up a sword -- but then again, that made sense. You very rarely spent time in his palace, much prefering the festivities of Caracalla's close by.

You listen while your mother goes on and on about his grace, tongue dipped in honey while she blabbers. She mentions how handsome he is, his valiance in leadership, how honorable he's become as he's taken the place of his late father -- you can't help yourself but laugh. The giggle echos and bounces through the high ceilings, floating against the archways, getting caught in the drapery by the open hall. His eyes flick to you over his goblet, catching in the candle light, an aggravated sneer plaguing his face. He looks like a pig when he does that, you think to yourself.

You know that business, for the most part, is a man's game. But it does not deter you from doing your best to try and wager yourself out of this. Ideas drip into your mind while the drone of the conversation turns to fuzz in the background. How can you sell that this is a bad idea? It will bring less publicity, less of a threat, less resposibility if married to someone with equal nobility. Certainly not an emperor. Especially not one like this. So petulant, so competitive, so eager for a war he does not know how to plan, so temperamental, so weak, so conniving, so consumed with the colosseum that he doesn't think of what should be done around him. It's his voice that brings you back to attention.

"And why is it she hasn't been taken for a wife then, at this age?" he asks, brow quirking in your direction. You let out of huff of offense while he sips his wine, metal clinking as he places it back down. A smirk flits across his features at the remark, "Is something wrong with her?"

Your father, sweating with embarrassment, looks over at you and back at the emperor, "Well she, she's of course beautiful." Geta winces, cocking his head to the side with a shrug. Your father sighs, desperate to try to find a better angle, "She um, she -- she has great wits, Ceasar, unmatched. She knows her duties as a wife, but -- a great thinker. She could -- she could be helpful!" "Wits," he mumbles sourly under his breath before leaning back leisurely in his chair, "Great thinker? Very surprising." "August--" your father starts. "Co--" you correct over a sip of wine, "Co-Augustus."

Geta tosses you another sour look, tongue running over his teeth before clicking it behind his lips. You shrug while swallowing. "Semantics, Publius," you wave a hand at him. A hush falls over the room as his gaze snaps up at you, blanching at the disrespect of being called by his first name. Your mother hides her face in her napkin with a groan. Your father leans his temple against his fingers, eyes closed in frustration. "Mind how you address me," Geta corrects with a stern pull to his lips, eyes glittering with rage. Your eyes catch over the mountains of food before you, holding your glass out as one of his servants pours you another glass of wine. "Is that not what your mother calls you?" your voice feathery, but certain. A vein begins to raise and pulse in his neck while his shoulders round forward.

"Please apologize, dear," your mother mutters, putting the napkin back on the table, "Tell -- tell the emperor what it would mean, to be -- to be wed to someone of such calibur."

Your eyes stay on his, challenging him while your mother begs you to say something to make amends. Another sip of wine passes your lips, "No, shan't."

Your mother scolds you, your full name escaping her with embarrassment tainting her tongue. Sweat beads at your father's forehead while he changes the subject, doing aything to try to keep his good favor with both sides of the imperatorship.

You grin into your goblet at the sight of Geta's face -- reddened with anger and frustration at the brazen disrespect. But it was fine to continue to be an enemy if it meant you would leave these regal walls and never have to step foot in them again. And if you did, it would be as another senator's wife, visiting his brother in another house where you'll laugh and drink wine and cheer when he's killed.

Even his posture is revolting, hunched over while he listens to your father speak. Now going on and on about paper work that doesn't interest you if it doesn't have a say on who is next on the list to conquer. Your eyes glaze over in boredom while pomergranate, honey pudding, and dates are placed on the table. Rose wine replaces the red to sweeten the tongue -- you're sure your parents wished it were true.

It's not very long after dessert is served that your parents start again.

"As you know, she does come from a family of very fertile women," your father encourages. You quickly swallow the bite of date you'd taken to interrupt, nearly choking, "Excuse me, I'm not sure this is appropriate dinner conversation."

Geta looks at you while you speak, scanning you and then lingering on the dessert in your hand, "Her hips are quite sizeable -- big enough to bear multiple childen, that's certain. Is that her only sell?"

Anger bubbles under your chest, but warning looks from both of your parents keeps your sharp tongue between your lips. The grip on your goblet tightens, jaw clenching while your pass another sip through gritted teeth. You let a seething breath out through your nose. "As I tried to explain before," your father continues, "She is very on the pulse in terms of the political climate and, and, and great with strategy." "I'm not looking for a wife who tries to strategize for me--" he responds coolly. "From how the empire has not expanded since your father's death I would guess that perhaps you should be," you snap back smartly. His posture straightens, chains and medallions across his chest glinting in the candle light. The room quiets itself again, only the sound of untensils and cups being put down or collected filling the dead air. The soft scrape of metal, the rustle of linens while servants and guards alike avert their gaze downward.

"Leave us," he states, voice pungent with authority. You stretch your neck on both sides while the servants depart, already bored with the back and forth. Already moved on from the eventual scolding and potential exile that won't get put into motion because you are simply too friendly with the rest of the upcoming generals and politicians. One rogue idiot who barely has the power his brother has, that his father never trained into him, could not dole a punishment that is worth your genuine fear.

You sigh, hearing the staff make their way down the long stone corridors into the grand halls to prepare for a more formal party with other higher status families. More likely a collection of offerings for him to choose from, other parents trying to arrange a marriage with the empire's most powerful and eligible bachelor. It would be one of the few times the brothers would have to engage with each other, which you're sure put Geta more on edge than normal.

"Senator, please take your wife to the grand hall to be seated," he commands, his voice lower, delving darker. The vein in his neck continues to pulse, forearms straining against the golden cuffs over his wrists, "The guards will accompany you."

You watch as your parents rise, bowing their heads before following the guards out of the room and through the blood red drapery hung from gilded valances. Geta's eyes stay hardened on you, and yours him, while you rise as well, taking a few steps around the large wooden table toward the exit. "Not you," he says, not turning to face you, "You will stay." "It is not appropriate for me to be unaccopanied in the pres--" "Do not speak," he huffs, hand coming up to silence you, "Your voice grates on me." "Then you can imagine what your own voice does, Augustus," you say without thinking, letting the insults flow out of you like the fountain water in the courtyards. He pushes away from the table, steadily walking towards you with enough vigor that the bottom of his cape starts to billow behind him. On his way, he pulls a sword from a guard's holster, dragging it so the tip grinds against the stone, making your jaw clench at the shrill sound.

"What happens to those who speak against me?" he asks, steps clicking against the floor from the studs on the bottom of his sandals. He begins to stalk around you, circling while he waits for an answer. "Execution," you respond, keeping your eyes on the drapery just twenty feet ahead of you. "What else?" he asks, you can feel his breath behind you, the whining grind of the sword against the stone making your shoulders tense. "Exile," you answer, a laugh bubbling out of you, "But I can't imagine your brother agreeing to either of those. You'd really banish me, Publius? Because I was a little mean to you?" When he appears in front of you again, your lips stretch into a sickeningly sweet smile, sarcasm staining your tone, "But we're such old friends."

He cocks his head to the side, taking a step closer with the sword between you, "Oh, I wouldn't do that to you."

He leans forward, enough that you can smell the rose wine on his breath. His voice quiet and menacing, "Though -- it could be that the senator said something to offend me tonight at dinner. It could be that perhaps he -- spoke poorly of my dear brother or my late father. Something just dastardly enough to sour my brother's respect for him." "And you expect Caracalla to believe that?" "In what way does it benefit me to lie about it?" he challenges, "And even more so -- with your father exiled, where does that leave you?"

You swallow thickly, not giving him the satisfaction of replying while your look into his now wild brown eyes. Flashing with mania and endless possibility.

"A peasant," he spits.

"If it keeps me out of these halls I should be lucky, no?" you fire back, looking at him from under furrow brows. He continues to circle you, dragging the sword again. The click, click, click of his shoes keeping time in your head. "I'm sure my brother would be happy to keep you as a pet in the meantime," he laughs to himself, "Or we could put you in the colosseum, you think you'd fare well?" "Better than you could, that's certain," you cross your arms over your chest, "Could never stand up and fight like a man, even as a kid. Your father would be embarrassed."

The grinding gets louder as he presses harder down, causing small sparks to fly from the edge of the sword.

"If you were to be chosen, would ever even attempt to learn respect?" he asks sharply, "Or would it have to be beaten into you?" You snort, "At least you're the funnier brother, you have that going for you." You can see him out of your periphery, the way he pulls his cheeks in, the roll of his shoulders -- he's losing patience. "What, would you prefer I called you Geta? Augustus? Ceasar?" your eyes roll. A soft cackle comes from his through, canines showing in a gleeful smile, "No, no -- from you? I'd much prefer something more respectful." Click, click, click. The grind of the sword. The rose on his breath. "Dominus," he nods with the threat, "Dominus et Deus."

"You disgust me," you respond quickly. "As a husband and as emperor is that not my title, already?" he shrugs, looking at you like it's obvious.

"You are nobodies Lord and God, you are a petulant -- sniveling -- repulsive little brother who is only where he is by being lucky to be born," you glower.

"You still see me as a child, femina," he tuts, "I promise you, what ever Caracalla has told you is a tapestry of made up stories. You could hang it on the tallest arch and it would hit the floor ten times over."

"I do see just a whining child before me," you hiss, "I'm sure you'll run to your mother after this, too."

His chuckle turns to a low, dark laugh from deep in his chest. It crawls up your spine and rings in your ears, mixing with the grating 'shhhhhhinnnngggg' of the sword on the ground.

"If it were fate that there was union between us," he asks from behind you, "What would you say to that?"

You look straight ahead, hearing the click of his shoes. The heat of the torches on the walls billowing onto your face while you keep your eyes on the drapery, still closed -- still keeping you here.

"It would be a fate worse than the hottest hell," you confess, your voice not wavering.

The whine of the sword stops, sheathed into his belt. The click of his shoes halts.

Quiet.

Rose wine on his breath, you feel it on your skin now, his chest against your back while he closes the space between you. A hand reaches up to push the hair from your neck, the other gripping the fat of your hip to pull you ruthlessly against him in a thud. Your eyes shut, bile crawling up your throat in disgust. His nose coasts against the shell of your ear, making you tilt your head away while goosebumps rise on your arms. Through a knowing grin he whispers, the words burrowing deep in your chest in loathing and a glimmer of fear: "I pray every moment of it burns you."

[pia-nor481]

She…What? Chapter Six

Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Daniel Ricciardo x reader

Lando fucks her so good that even Oscar hears, the Australian is still unsure on how to feel about her, so she does something about it.

2.7K words 18+

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Lando wasn't usually a generous lover, but ever since he met her, ever since she captivated him, all he wanted was to watch her cum. "Come on, onto the bed." He demanded, slipping his belt from his trousers. As Lando approached, she slid her hand up from his chest and over his jaw, gripping tightly. "Don't tell me what to do." A small smirk painted his face as he gripped her hips, slotting himself between her legs. "It's in your best interest, wanna make you cum first." His tongue made contact with her clit, pulling a low moan from her as he began to suck lightly, eyes flicking up to her. Lando was pleased with her rolled back eyes and so moved his tongue faster. "Maybe I'll let it slide, just this once." Her sentence was followed with a small sigh as her hands threaded through his curls. Lando could feel blood rushing towards his cock and groaned into her cunt, sending a shock wave of pleasure through her. "Fuck, Lando." One hand remained on her thigh, while the other forming a fist around his shaft. She tugged in his hair, needing more from him. "Harder." He didn't want to listen, moaning a loud 'no' into her cunt with a shake of his head. "I thought you wanted to make me cum." He was too engrossed in the feeling of her that he almost forgot his objective. Lando rose slightly, pushing his head forward, needing to be as close to her as possible. He discovered after a while that she liked when he moaned while eating her out, that accompanied with a flat tongue and a fast shake of the head always got her off. Lando didn't hold back, desperate to watch her release. "Fuck. That's it, Lando." The feeling of his hand squeezing tight and the pressure of his tongue on her clit pushed her over the edge. As white coloured her vision, Lando painted the carpet with his thick, white cum. 

Lando watched as her legs twitched, head thrown back in pleasure. He wanted to see this every day for the rest of his life if he could. But now he would have to settle for as often as he could have her. As her head hit the pillow of the bed, Lando's gaze fell to the ground. "Fuck, I'm gonna get in so much trouble." He said, hands coming up to his face. "You will be in trouble if you don't get up here and fuck me." She stated, looking down at him, eyes blown with lust. Lando would never complain about getting to fuck her. He has spent far too many hours thinking about her, and thus masturbating to the thought of her, to pass this opportunity up. Lando was quick to get on the bed, once again coming between her knees. He brought his lips to her, feeling the need to be almost romantic with her. He craved the closeness, the loving, the needing of her. "So good for me." He muttered against her skin as his lips travelled from her neck to her chest. Her hands wandered from his chest to his v line, tapping the skin lightly, wanting to tease him. As soon as her hand made contact with his cock she spoke, voice laced with ardour. "You're already hard." She followed with a small laugh as she began stroking him teasingly. "Can you blame me." Recently Lando hadn't felt embarrassed about his attraction towards her and so didn't worry about his lack of filter in moments like these. 

"Just put it in." She groaned, pulling him as close as physically possible. "Not yet, might not fit." He grumbled, slowly pushing a finger into her cunt. "It's not fair to tease." She wanted his badly, it didn't matter how long ago she got off, she needed him now. "That's ironic." Lando laughed pushing another finger in before pumping in and out. She began pushing her hips forward to meet the thrust of his fingers, desperate for him to at least brush against her g-spot. "My god, you are insatiable." He said with a small hint of annoyance, pulling his fingers out. He wasn't truly irritated with her. He was more than willing to give her what she asked for. 

Lando was quick to replace his fingers with his throbbing cock. "Fuck, fuck. I can barely fit." He groaned pushing a few inches into her cunt. "Daniel not fuck you this morning?" She didn't expect him to be condescending, she also didn't expect it to arouse her so much. "Squeezing me so tight. You like that? Like when I...make fun of you?" Lando's thrusts began to deepen slightly, hitting all the right spots to make her see stars. "So pretty for me." His words touched her skin as he came down to kiss her once again, silencing her moans from the listening ears of the team. Lando brought his free hand down to her clit, rubbing slow circles, making sure to apply the right amount of pressure. He wanted her to cum as quick as possible, selfishly not for her benefit, he just wanted to see her in everyway possible. "That's it, I can feel you clenching, Babe, cum for me." Lando circled her clit faster, eager to see her eyes roll as she gasped for air, unable to resist the feeling. Pleasure flowed through her whole body as her hips came up from the mattress. Lando was quick to cover her mouth, worried about her bellows of his name. The feeling of her convulsing edged Lando further, one breath away from orgasm. "Please, Lando. Need you." Lando just couldn't resist any longer, not with her spurring him on. 

With his cum leaking out of her cunt, she sat up, looking at Lando with a sweet smile. "Don't look at me like that. I don't think I can go again." He laughed, slipping off the bed, walking towards the small shower of his driver's room. "Come on." He called her from the other room. "So you fuck me like that, walk away, and make demands. You really have become cocky since your win." She spoke quietly as she followed his steps. "I'll show you cocky." Lando's hand descended to her cunt, gathering the remainder of his cum on his fingers. Soon she felt him tap her lips. "Open." She could taste him on her tongue, but she wanted him to feel something other than pride, so she sucked lightly, just as she would if she was starting to blow him. "What did I say?" She rolled her eyes as the water from the shower began to fall over her skin. "That you couldn't get it up?" Her question was followed with a harsh smack to her ass. "Don't start. Maybe I'll tie you up again." He began to run his hands over her skin, leaving bubbles of soap in his wake. "Maybe I want you to." She whispered turning around in his embrace. "You're never satisfied are you?" He smiled, squeezing her tits unapologetically. "Or maybe, I just want more." 

Lando laughed lightly, covering her skin with a towel before placing a sweet kiss on her cheek. "Well, you could come back later, get some more from me." He muttered into her neck, ghosting over the small marks forming. They were interrupted by a small knock on the door. "Can I come in?" Oscar asked feeling a small blush rise to his face. "Yeah, Osc. Come in." Lando was still shirtless as Oscar made it through the door.

"I didn't know you were into exhibitionism." The Australian said dryly, looking between her and Lando. "Wait, you heard us?" Lando questioned, slipping his hoodie back on. "I wouldn't be surprised if half the paddock heard." Oscar wasn't too sure where this confidence came from. "I covered her mouth as well." Lando stated, closing his eyes, head falling back slightly. "Well it's not the first time I've heard you two." The Australian sat on the edge of the bed, not making eye contact with them as he spoke. "It's not the first time you've gotten off to it either." She whispered, walking towards him, grasping his bicep. Lando muttered a quiet 'What?' before she spoke again. "Yeah, we've got quite the voyeur on our hands." Oscar's blush deepened as one of his hands came up to the ack of his neck. "How do you even know about that." He whispered, not wanting his teammate to hear. "Just because I was getting fucked doesn't mean I didn't know you were there, stroking your cock at the sight of me." Oscar didn't know if he wanted her to touch him, if he wanted to touch her, or if he wanted to completely disappear. He could tell she didn't have a problem with his arousal, if anything she seemed to enjoy the affect she had on him. But Oscar was still shy, he wanted to keep to himself, he wanted to keep his life private. So he couldn't let his secrets spill with Lando in the room. 

A small sigh escaped Oscar's lips as she lightly kissed his neck, hands leaving his arm in favour of his chest. "So you like to watch, but not give a show, interesting." She muttered, pulling away. She didn't have to worry about Oscar saying much, that was clear because of the situation with Daniel in the club. So she thought it was best to let him think about getting involved a little longer. Especially with how he was reacting in her presence. She didn't want to persuade him in any way, it needed to be his decision. "What did Daniel tell you?" She asked pulling away. "Just that this is an open relationship of sorts" He said looking back up, noticing she was already in Lando's embrace, not even acknowledging him anymore. Oscar got up an left Lando's driver room, frustration growing within him.

As Oscar walked back through the Mclaren motorhome he was getting quite a few stares, he assumed it was due to the look on his face. Usually he had a relatively neutral expression, but now, annoyance replaced it. He knew that there was no problem between them, yet he was a little hurt by her actions. He left the building with a small huff, all his work was completed and so he needed to catch his flight to the next race destination. It was almost annoying him that he felt both relieved and angered at the same time; He was thankful that all was settled between him and Daniel but frustrated with her and Lando. The worst part of it all, was how he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was doing things to him that he never expected. He was almost desperate for her touch and he didn't know why. Oscar spent almost all of the plane ride deep in thought. All of those thoughts plagued with her. He wanted her fingers do dance over his skin. He needed her lips to kiss him sweetly. He wondered what her favourite position was. He wanted to know what face she made when she came. He questioned whether she liked it hard and fast or slow and sensual. He wanted, no he needed to know. 

After a few days away from the boys she was become almost restless. Wednesday night she called Daniel, most of the call was filled with questions. "What time is you're flight gonna land?" Daniel made sure to book her the best room the hotel offered, not just because she deserved the best, but because he knew that's where they, and perhaps the Mclaren drivers would be staying as well. "I think at 4am but its okay I can get an Uber." She spoke, making sure all of her luggage was with her. "No, I'll pick you up." He said as if he had a car in this city. "You wont, you will be sleeping soundly in preparation for the race." She said in an almost chastising tone. She so desperately wanted him to do well in his upcoming races as he's worked so hard to get where he was, and she didn't want to be the one to ruin that for him. "Fine...But one condition." She could hear the smile in his voice. "You tell me what toys you brought." Sex was almost always on Daniel's mind, not that she would ever complain. "A few...Some handcuffs, a dildo and that red vibrator you like." She giggled down the line. "Don't tease me too much before bed." Daniel never seemed to have a particularly serious outlook, always telling jokes and smiling but with his career on the cusp, he knew he needed to get things together. "I still have a few more minutes, Darling. Let me ask you something." It was just like they were a few days ago, starting with light yet sexual conversation and Daniel shifting the conversation to something more serious. 

"What's going on with Oscar?" He didn't say the words with a pointed tone, instead his voice laced with concern. "I'm just teasing him a little, just as I did with you and Lando. I like my men begging for me." Daniel Laughed almost too loud for the late hour. "Well don't deny him too much. He was walking out of the paddock with a rather sour face." She was more than happy that they made up and possibly even ecstatic at the thought of them getting closer. "Well, he was doing what he does best..watching, well listening. But we had a small conversation and in the end I ignored him. Since he wasn't really you're friend, and Lando doesn't know him too well, I need to test him a little." Daniel wasn't surprised, she had done a similar thing to him when they first met, but he didn't hold it against her, he knew it wasn't just for her pleasure, and he intended to let Oscar know that. As their call came to an end Daniel sent Oscar her room number, 609. He hoped Oscar had it in him to go and see her on his own. 

Friday night Oscar made way to the hotel floor above his own. He didn't like unknowns and this was a big one. Panic surged through him the closer he got to her room. A small sigh and two gentle knocks where heard from the queen sized bed of her room. Her feet padded across the floor in excitement. The thought of Oscar chasing after her was beginning to arouse her slightly. "Good evening, Oscar." His nerves were overt as he stepped into the room. His eyes never left her, took focused on the way the silk red robe was covering her skin. He could see the perfect shape of her ass and a peak of cleavage where she didn't tie the front up correctly, she was already driving him crazy.

Oscar followed her as she almost floated through the room, sitting down at the end of the bed. She patted the mattress beside her before speaking. "What do you know?" She whispered with a sweet tone. "Are you going to listen to me this time." Oscar was still a little bitter, yet his voice was low with a hint of disappointment. "Of course, you've got my undivided attention." She whispered, hand coming to rest on his thigh, squeezing slightly. "You're in an open relationship with Daniel, and obviously, you're sleeping with Lando." Oscar's blush deepened, it felt almost wrong talking about his friend's love life like this. "Well, I was with Daniel first, we met when he was a Renault and things happened. Then recently, he was speaking to Lando and we got together. Now we're here." She smiled, running his head up his leg. "So...Now what?" He inquired, looking back at her, noticing the sultry look on her face. "You start by signing an NDA, then we see what happens." She whispered, standing to grab the document. Oscar read over the words a few times before adding his signature at the bottom of the paper. As the paper was placed on the table by the bed, she swung her leg over his lap. Oscar's hands came to her back for supports, keeping her up right. She was grinding her hips down slightly, pulling a low groan from him. "I've not really done this before." He muttered into her neck.

Part Seven

[badgers-and-cats]

Loki Smut (he has a God complex)

Masterlist // requests are open

18+ MDNI

AFAB/Female reader. (She/her pronouns used)

Warnings: smut under the cut. No plot. Unprotected P in V sex. (Wrap it before you tap it). Choking. Kinda degrading (reader referred to as a toy, etc), pet names (darling, good girl) God complex??? Let me know if I forgot anything

A/N; Not proof read. This was supposed to be short… oops. Not sure how I feel about it tbh

Yesterday i thought of Loki (specifically Ragnorok!Loki) with a God complex when he fucks you, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

Just imagine, he would be pounding into to your wet heat, groaning at the feeling of it welcoming his dick, the sweet mixture of your slick and your cum making it so much easier for him.

You’re already a moaning mess underneath him, you’ve already come undone on his tongue 3 times, and there’s no sign of him slowing down anytime soon.

“That’s it darling… such a good girl for me, taking everything I give you. Such a perfect toy, made for me,” he moans, biting and licking your neck, before wrapping his large hand around it, squeezing it… not hard enough to completely cut off your airflow, but enough to make you a little dizzy.

“Oh… my god,” you manage to get out, feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated, but still so so good. He stops suddenly, balls deep inside your pussy, that’s pulsing around his length. His grip on your neck tightens slightly, as he groans and kisses your lips.

“That’s right… I am your God. And you will worship me and take everything I give you. You’re just a set of holes made to please me,” he groans.

You can’t help but to moan at his words, pussy squeezing his dick, as he stays balls deep inside you, moving his hips slightly to reach further inside of your heat.

“P-please, my God, fuck me… God I need you so much,” you manage to get out, his hand still around your neck.

He kisses your lips once more, before flipping you round so your on your hands and knees. His pace is now much more brutal; you’re coming undone within a couple of thrusts, soaking his crotch, cock, and balls.

“Yes, my dirty girl. Cumming all over her God’s cock like a good slut,” he pulls your hair harshly, using it so he can pound into you harder; though you didn’t think he could go much harder than he was already.

“You going to take my seed, slut? Gonna let your God fill you up? Gonna fill your little pussy with my cum, and you’re going to thank me for it, understood?” He demands, his arm now wrapped around your neck, your back against his chest as he bites your earlobe.

“Yes… please, my God… need it,” you beg, moments before he releases inside of you, cum painting your walls and some leaking out of you.

After a moment or two, he gently pulls out, before laying you down on the bed, kissing your forehead and your lips softly; a nice contrast from the brutal fucking.

“Are you okay, my love? You did so well for me,” he says, moving some hair from your face as you both catch your breaths.

“Never better,” you smile softly, kissing him once again, before he runs you a bath and helps you to get cleaned up, praising you and being so gentle. The night ends with gentle kisses, cuddles, and “I love you’s.”

You smile to yourself as you fall asleep, wrapped up in his arms, knowing exactly what to do to him to tease him get him riled up.

All it took was two words. My God. And that he was. Your God.

[jarofstyles]

Miss jars can you do a blurb of a threesome where y/n and a friend are sucking him off please? 🫶

Yes! I haven’t done anything threesome ish in a while.

If you’re not into that, it’s okay! I’ll try and do some other blurbs this weekend 🫶

Check out our Patreon

Warnings- threesome ffm, oral sex, cum play, slight jealousy, greedy y/n

——-

Harry sat back on the couch, his eyes closed in bliss as Y/N and their new friend took turns sucking his cock. He had to admit, their friend had a talented mouth, with her painted lips wrapped around the head of his dick and sucking hard as Y/N licked his balls and stroked his shaft- but his girl would always be his favorite.

His hips bucked up, thrusting his cock a little deeper into the girl's mouth as he groaned. He could hear her slurping sounds, and Y/N's soft moans as she sucked his balls.

Y/N looked up at him, their eyes meeting as she sucked, their friend's head bobbing up and down on his cock. Harry reached out, grabbing Y/N's hair and stroking softly, reminding her that she was still his. Their friend pulled off of Harry's cock with a wet pop, gasping for air. He looked down at her, his lips quirked up on one side. “Think it’s time you both switched, hm? Need t’take turns.” Reaching out, he gently used his grip on her hair to pull his favorite girl closer to his cock.

Y/N's lips wrapped around the head of his cock, her tongue swirling around it as she sucked him. Their friend watched, reaching out to stroke his chest and abs, dragging nails lightly over his stomach. Harry moaned, his hips moving with Y/N's head motions as he lightly fucked into her mouth.

Their friend looked up at Harry with a hungry expression as she wrapped her lips around his balls, sucking on them lightly as Y/N continued to suck his cock. The man let out a pleased hum, his hands moving to guide their mouths and keep them where he wanted them.

Harry's face contorted in pleasure, his brows furrowed and mouth open in a silent 'O'. His breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving up and down. "That feels so fuckin’ good. That’s what I wanted." he groaned, his fingers tightening in their hair as they continued to work on him.

"Fuck, Y/N," he gasped, feeling her expert mouth bringing him closer to climax. Her tongue flicked over the tip of his cock, sending a spark of pleasure through him, making his cock pulse in her mouth. She always knew the right things to do to get him right to the edge like this- it’s why she was his favorite. His eyes glazed over as he fought back the orgasm, wanting to prolong the pleasure.

Their new friend released his balls with a pop, looking up at him with a desperate gaze. Harry reached out, grabbing her face and forcing her to look at Y/N's mouth on his cock. "Watch her suck me. It’s a pretty sight, isn’t it?"

The friend watched as her mouth moved up and down on Harry's cock. She could see the way she had no reservations about it, letting herself make a bit of a mess on herself, and the way Harry's hips bucked forward every time Y/N's head bobbed. "Please," the friend whispered, "let me suck him too."

Y/N looked up at Harry, her mouth still wrapped around his cock. She shook her head, refusing to let the friend join in. Greedy, as usual, but it was a trait she knew he didn’t mind. He liked when she got possessive like this. Harry's eyes narrowed in warning, but he didn't stop her from sucking him. Didn’t make her share quite yet.

Her mouth was like heaven, warm and wet and so fucking eager, it was hard to pull out of it. She had the perfect amount of pressure, perfect lathing of her tongue, and he didn’t blame her for being a little selfish. He let out a moan, feeling himself get closer to climax with every movement of her head. "Don't stop, sweetheart." he panted, "just like that."

With that warning, Y/N's head bobbed faster, her hand gripping the base of his shaft as her mouth worked the rest. She was dedicated to being the one who made him cum, making sure he never forgot who was the best for him. Not that he ever would, considering he always sought her out- but hammering in the point always felt good. Made her feel powerful.

Harry's legs tensed, his abs clenching as he neared the edge. "Y/N..." His voice warned her that he was about to come. “You’ve got t’share, baby.” he cooed. “Put your cheeks together… let me give you both my cum.”

She paused for a moment, looking up at Harry with a defiant gaze before obeying his command. She brought her face together with her friend's, hand a tight seal around Harry's cock as she stroked him off to the finish. "Fuck," Harry groaned, his balls tightening as he prepared to explode.

His face twisted in pleasure as he erupted all over their faces. The first shot landed on Y/N's cheek, followed by a second squirt that hit their friend's chin and lips, making a mess out of both of them. He didn’t hold back. The cum dribbled down their faces and noses, pooling at the corners of their mouths. It was a sticky mess of pearly white and flushed skin, creating a scene of pure debauchery.

Y/N's face was the most covered, as by her own design, her cheeks shiny with it as she broke apart and leaned forward to take him back into her mouth. It wasn’t enough for her. “Greedy fuckin’ girl.” Harry grunted, but let her do as she pleased. “Never been good at sharing.”

[fuckmymunson]

eddie who has a reputation to uphold, the weird and scary freak who wears chains and big metal rings and always goes on tangents about his hatred for the popular kids, not a sliver of fear or weakness in his eyes. eddie who at the same time never leaves his house without the light yellow scrunchy with daisies on it that you gave him, always on his wrist or wrapped in his hair.

eddie who’s sweet n soft on you in a way he never is with anyone else 🥹

💌 a/n: Oh god, this, this, this, this. Please, I don’t ask for much. I’m so happy to get back to writing! Hope you like it!

🪷 Check my recent poll ¡! 📌

“I lost it” His voice sounded almost defeated, and quite inopportune.

“Eddie!” You jolted in your place, closing the light green locker door. Behind it, there he was, the big, scary, mean freak of Hawkins High. Covered from head to toe in chains, leather, ripped jeans, black, black, all black. With dark, unruly hair and a chunky rings.

But also, with puppy eyes, and a quivering lip.

“You scared the shit out of me, Eds” The frown on your pretty face made his heart jump inside his chest. You were an angel, a sight for sore eyes.

“I lost it” He repeated.

“You lost what?”

“I’m sorry” Eddie looked down, apparently now his Reeboks were the most interesting thing.

“Care to explain what is missing and why are you apologizing?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you waited, for almost three minutes.

“I lost the scrunchy you gave me” He finally admitted, like a criminal at trial.

Eddie heard you sigh, to his ears, was a sigh of disappointment. In reality, it was a sigh of relief. Only Edward Munson knew how to make a simple thing as a scrunchy into a faithful message.

“That’s it? Eddie, it’s just a hair tie” You shook your head, still not comprehending the dimensions of his problem.

“It’s not just a hair tie!” He exclaimed, now almost offended, of course only he could switch mood that easily. A few curious students looked at your way, still wondering how did an adorable piece of cotton and sunshine like you, was dating the metalhead, three-times senior freak of not only high school, but of the whole town.

“Yes it is, love. I can just give you another one, don’t worry— Look, I can give you the one I’m wearing…”

“I don’t want that one” He said, his words sounding almost like a tantrum. “I want the one you gave me on our first date, the yellow one with little sunflowers”

“Daisies, Eddie” You corrected him with a smile. Only Eddie was able to remember such a tiny detail and forget a crucial detail.

Only Eddie was able to make you feel loved, cherished and appreciated. He was so different from every other person you have dated before. He snatched your heart from the very first day and it’s been a daily occurrence for almost a year. The scary, weird freak, the person considered a devil worshipper, the mean senior who had the admirable (or idiotic) courage to stand out against others who felt like they had the right to humiliate and ridicule those who weren’t like them. Your Eddie, the one who broke a jock’s nose one time for slapping your ass walking through the halls. Your Eddie, who waited patiently until every extracurricular activities you were into were over, so he could drive you home and hold your thigh and listen to you throughout the whole ride. Your Eddie, who loved Saturday night because it meant movie night, cuddles and kisses. The mean freak who let you braid his hair, paint his nails, sew his old t-shirts.

The Eddie Munson who was scared of spiders but wasn’t scared of a hundred people crowd. The boy who initiated a food fight at the cafeteria and had to go to the nurses office because an orange hit his eye and he realized he was allergic to them. The man who every Friday made fairy tales, knight stories and evil monsters come true and walk this very earth with just his voice and his imagination at his D&D club. Your Eddie, who on your first date, dropped a chocolate milkshake on top of your white dress, forgot to fill his fuel tank, and had to push his van all the way to the nearest gas station.

That’s how the bright scrunchy ended up in his hair, in a makeshift ponytail that you made by running your delicate fingers through his tangled hair.

That was your Eddie.

Your Eddie. Yours. Yours.

“Fine, let’s go find it” You said, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Tell me what you did today…”

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. Thank you for reading!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[livelaughlovesubs]

I have a small request which you can totally ignore if yous wants but-

Imagine Poe (bsd) feeling he isn't good enough and making a self-deprecating comment and reader fucking him while making him say (or until he says) he's worth it 💖

Ohhhh, that’s kinda sweet~ I like it heh

Dom!reader x sub!poe

Warning: pegging (can be read as a dick), praise kink, overstimulation, marking, fucked dumb

“Who’s my good boy? Who’s doing such a good job right now?”

There was only one right answer. It was him. Of course it was your dear partner. He’s been obeying you so nicely, bouncing up and down on top of you without taking a break. His back was facing you, giving you a nice view of his ass, as well as how your dick gets hurried inside him each time he slumps back into your lap. These shaking hands grabbed yours, making you hold onto his waist harder and leaving bruises behind.

You leaned against him, lips hovering above his neck as your hot breath tickled his skin. A shiver ran down his spine when you whispered something again, “answer me, pretty boy.” That’s what you said, but you wouldn’t give him time to speak and think! Relentlessly pounding him while kissing and sucking on his back, painting his body with marks and hickeys. Who would under such circumstances be able to speak properly? All he could let out were soft sobs paired with high-pitched whimpers. Back arched away from you, hands bawled into fists as he slams himself against your crotch.

His hair was a messy nest, flying around and obstructing his view, not that he could have registered anything anyway since he was only focused on the stretching feeling inside him. Every time he slows down for what reason ever, you’d run your hip upwards to meet his, hitting his prostate with such pinpoint accuracy that it makes him see stars. Electricity would course through his body like huge waves of pleasure, rendering him unable to even form a single coherent word. One of poe’s hands was wrapped around his dick to jerk himself off. But poor baby has been too distracted by the feeling of getting fucked dumb, so much that he forgot to move his hand. Now only holding it like it’s some kind of broken decoration that’s leaking its filth everywhere.

Really, everywhere. His precum spread to the sheets, his thighs, and even his belly. Now everything became sticky because of him. What a naughty boy he was, creating such a chaos. When Poe still didn’t muster enough energy to answer your questions, you squeezed down on his hips, getting a better grip before forcing him up and down your cock in a rough pace. “Hu- ah..aAAHHhHNHgG wait- y/n..!! Too much oh <3 too much!” He’d complain, but due to the moans it doesn’t sound very convincing. Watching his muscles tighten as more tears roll down his body, along with droplets of sweat. His rosy cheeks were so adorable, his body too, so perfect for you. A perfect little toy for you to adore.

Once again you groaned into his ear, “tell me, Poe, who’s my good boy?” After you finished your sentence, you noticed how his rim clenched down on you, holding onto you without wanting to let go. “Mhmm..! I- I…” he tried to answer you, he really did, yet whenever he opens his mouth only more whines would spill out. “Go on baby, take your time.” You smirked at him, a comforting smile that told him everything will be alright. Poe closed his eyes in an attempt to collect his thoughts, but it backfired and made him focus only on the way you stretched his walls. God it was heavenly, it was ecstasy he never experienced before. Whenever you just meekly brushed against his sweet spot, he’d mewl and squeak like a little slut.

This is no good, he was close, he had to answer you or else he might receive a punishment. Why do you want him to praise himself anyway? It’s so embarrassing! When you once again drove your dick deep inside him, hitting spots he never knew existed, he lost all energy and slumped back against your chest. A melting expression on his face as drool dripped down his chin, body sore from all the overstimulation already. His legs twitched around as a poor attempt to balance out the pleasure he received. He was exhausted, he couldn’t keep going anymore, all he did in that moment was giving himself to you completely, letting you use him like a toy.

“This won’t do, you have to speak, pretty boy.” You reminded him, while clasping one hand over his, the one pathetically trying to play with his own member. “Uhh.. it feels ah, hNng too good.” He gave out, barely able to register the meaning of your words. “Hmm, but you can speak right? Need me to repeat my question?” Even now you didn’t give up, fucking his brains out while giving him orders. “Hic, hmm… m-me… ah, I’m your go- uhHnn good boy..<3” Poe answered eventually, after that his tongue stuck out and his eyes rolled back. As if you milking his prostate wasn’t enough, you were forcing his hand to pump his length up and down now as well! He was going to break at this point!

“Good job, that’s right, you are my loveliest good boy, so be proud of it alright?” You said, before pointing into him faster and harder as a reward. “AhhHHHHh!! OohhH! Too much- too deep!!! Y/n HngHh, too fasttt!!” Aww, he’s crying about how he can’t handle this again, such an adorable thing. Since he’s encouraging you so feverishly, you had to respond to his pleads, right? Grinning from ear as to ear as you mumbled, “Shh, don’t worry, you won’t break that quick, I want to make this moment last.”

[murdrdocs]

oh wally clark would take so much pride in his little cheerleader gf wearing his letterman jacket everywhere

oh absolutely.

you're in your devil's uniform, the blue complimenting your skin tone perfectly, the cheerleader uniform hugging you in all the right places. and wally already thinks you look fucking phenomenal. but there’s one thing missing.

he tells you as such, leaning against your locker as he eyes you up and down, pretending to be looking for something when he knows exactly what it is. at first, you're adamant that you have everything you need, even turning your head to show the ‘57’ painted on your cheek.

but wally shakes his head, pouting as he squints. “no. there’s definitely something.”

you even go as far as to look at the mirror in your locker, but when you turn back to wally, he has his letterman jacket open for you to slip your arms into and you rolls her eyes.

“i thought i actually forgot something, wally,” you confess as you slip into the jacket, instantly snuggling into the too-big material. “you’re a jerk.”

wally turns you around with hands on your shoulders, using his grip to pull you closer. he presses his hands to your middle back, pulling you even closer until your chest touches his, and then he smiles down at you, big and cheeky. “but i’m your jerk.”

you pretend to be upset but you're still the one who initiates the kiss.

and for the rest of the day, wally ogles at the sight of you in the jacket. you wear it better than him, especially paired with the cheer uniform and the bow in your hair.

by the end of the day, he stares at you again, now warranted as you're talking to him about a new movie you two should go see, but he realizes that something is missing this time. all you need is the gold necklace wally wears 24/7, another thing of his he’s willing to share with the girl he loves.