#i thin not having that noise will make finding them more special

[papayacinnabun]

my valentine - oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader

word count - 1.8k

summary - your boyfriend takes you on a special date, and a special ride...

warnings - 18+ mdni, smut, oral f receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, car sex

a/n - happy valentines day! oh god i wish i had a rich boyfriend who loved me 😮‍💨 masterlist

sweet.

that's how the bouquet of roses oscar brought you smelled. satisfyingly sweet.

he presented them to you when he picked you up from your apartment, standing dorkily in front of his sleek mclaren 720S. oscar was grinning like a kid in a candy store as he handed them to you, placing a tender kiss on your cheek to not mess up your fresh lipstick. 

“you look so beautiful my love.” his praise always made you blush, warm and well-timed.

“thank you baby, you look very dashing yourself.” you stepped back for a moment to admire your boyfriend in his suit, he obviously went all out for the occasion.

“i had to dress up for my valentine of course,” he said as he took your hand to help you into the car. that made you laugh. it sounded so dumb and lovesick that you both treasured valentines day so much, but oscar was someone you wanted to celebrate with all the time if you could. 

everyday with him was bliss, and it felt like a dream you never wanted to wake up from. its a rare thing to find someone who understands you completely and expresses themselves without farce, but you truly found that with oscar.

and now almost a year in, you sat across from each other in the candlelight of a swanky monaco restaurant deliberating over what to order. 

you looked up from the menu to admire oscar. his brows were knitted together in a thoughtful expression, eyes scanning over the myriad of entree options. he was clearly torn about what to order, making you giggle at his seriousness. 

“what are you getting?” oscar asked as he looked up, eager for some help. 

“having a bit of trouble there osc?” you croon teasingly, reaching out to rub his hand. he gives you a look that screams ‘hey don’t make fun of me’, and envelopes your small hand in his. “fine, i think i’ll get the salmon. it sounds very good.”

he makes a noise of confirmation and nods his head, bringing his attention back down to the menu. “i’ll get the same, i trust your judgement.”

and that’s how it worked between you. even for the smallest, most trivial things, you just trusted each other. 

two hours and some glasses of expensive wine later, you walked out of the restaurant hand in hand. 

“that was lovely baby, thank you so much” you mused, squeezing his hand a bit tighter.

“i’m glad you enjoyed it, love. i’m thinking we head back to mine and have some cake and watch a movie, how’s that sound?” his hand left yours to rest at your waist, pulling you closer to him. his hand smoothed over the thin fabric of your dress, sending goosebumps all over your skin. 

your eyes lit up at the mention of cake, oscar knew it was your favorite dessert. but the tension between you two was even more delicious, oscar’s hand starting a chain reaction of desire in your body. 

“sure you don’t want a different type of dessert first?” you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively at him, causing a wide grin to break out on his face. 

“are you offering?” he asks jokingly, his hand gripping a little tighter at your waist. 

you blushed and tugged your bottom lip into your mouth, shrugging playfully as you finally approached the car. it was parked on the street because oscar knew you wouldn’t want to wait for the valet and waste the night. 

he opened the door for you, hand only leaving your waist at the last minute to help you in. your dress rode up a bit as you got in the car, the long slit in the fabric exposing the soft skin of your hip a bit. oscar’s eyes darkened, glinting with something new. desire?

he gets in the driver’s seat and starts the engine, his gaze wandering back over to your thigh. 

oscar abruptly turns the engine off. 

“oh are we not goi-” you start, a bit confused. 

“get in the back.” he interrupts, voice low. 

“osc you’re out of your mind.” you shake your head, adrenaline steadily coursing through you now. 

“i need you now baby, you’re driving me crazy.” he leaned over to look at you, his large hand coming up to rub the inside of your thigh. the feeling made your brain go numb. 

“we’re in public!” you whine out, getting a bit frustrated as his hand traveled closer and closer to the lacy edge of your panties. 

“don’t worry, the windows are tinted. i’m gonna take care of you beautiful, just need to have you right now.” he whispers, breath sending shivers down your spine. a whimper escapes your throat involuntarily. 

you finally nod, lust overshadowing your rational thinking. you unzip your dress, shrugging it off to reveal your dark red lace lingerie. oscar’s eyes got wider, unblinking as he looked you over. kicking off your louboutins, you climbed over to the backseat, his needy hands on your waist assisting you.

he looks at you like a wolf does its prey, determined and hungry. 

his suit jacket and tie are quickly torn off and abandoned in the driver’s seat as he raced to join you. 

immediately his hands were all over you, caressing and groping every inch of your skin like it was the first time he was seeing you. 

“hiding this from me? naughty girl. would’ve left the restaurant sooner if i knew. always so pretty for me.” he praised as his lips ghost over your neck, leaving the lightest kisses as he traveled down to your collarbones and over the lacy material of your bra. in one movement he undid the clasp and pulled it off, revealing your supple tits. 

oscar moaned at the sight of your perky nipples, running his thumbs back and forth over the peaks. your eyes fluttered closed in bliss, savoring the warmth of his large hands massaging your breasts. 

“kiss me, please” you practically begged him, needing to feel his mouth against yours. he didn’t hesitate to capture your lips with his, soft and gentle at first, but steadily becoming more hurried and messy. he couldn’t get enough of you. 

you kissed each other so fiercely, teeth clashing together. your hands reached up to pull at the hair at the nape of his neck, making him groan into your mouth. 

“fuck- need- to- taste- you,” he said in between open mouthed kisses to your neck as you squirmed under him. finally his fingers wander down between your legs, rubbing your aching clit over the red lace. you gasp as he pushes the fabric aside and dips into your wetness, collecting it with his fingers. he stares into your eyes as he lewdly sucks his digits clean of your juices. 

oscar gives you no time to react, leaning down to lick a stripe up your folds. your mouth falls open in bliss as he wraps his lips around your sensitive clit, sucking lightly.

he expertly maneuvers his tongue, eating your pussy like a man starved. he hooks his arms under your thighs to pull them over his shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “sweetest little pussy all for me,” he breathes out quickly, barely wasting a moment before diving back into your slicked folds. 

your back arches off the leather seats, feeling the familiar buildup of your release. his hold on your hips tightens as his tongue circles tantalizingly over your puffy clit, before closing his lips around the bud. 

“please… wanna cum,” you whimper out as his tongue delves inside you, nose bumping up against your sensitive bundle of nerves. you shamelessly rock your hips up against his face for more friction, earning a groan from oscar that reverberates through your core. 

“give it to me baby” oscar encourages, speeding up his movements. a choked sob travels up your throat, your orgasm ripping through you harshly. your pussy clenches around nothing as oscar greedily laps at your release, finishing by pressing small kisses to your thigh. 

“gonna let me fuck your pretty cunt now? make you cum all over my cock too baby?” you were already flustered from your orgasm, but his words made you blush even more. brain too fuzzy to speak, you just gave him a desperate nod and reached up to fumble with his belt. 

oscar chuckles as he helps you unbuckle it, all while keeping your legs hoisted over his broad shoulders. finally he frees himself from his boxers, his hard cock smacking against your stomach. he guided his tip to your entrance, toying with your puffy clit before slipping inside. rubbing your hip reassuringly as he pressed in inch by inch. oscar was big. he filled you up completely, your tight cunt struggling to accommodate all of him. 

“you can move osc, feels good” you practically cry out, pussy fluttering around his length. he leans down to kiss you passionately, beginning to thrust his hips at a steady pace. curses fall from his lips, squeezing his eyes shut as your warmth envelopes him completely over and over again.

“i love you so much baby,” he professes, hands digging into the soft flesh of your tits. you bring your hands up to his face, stroking his cheeks softly with your thumbs. 

“i love you more,” you gasp as he picks up his pace, the sound of slapping skin filling the car. he fucked you harder, practically bending you in half as he drills into your perfect cunt. his cock hit the deepest parts inside of you, your orgasm slowly building up again. 

“oh god i’m almost there,” you cry out as you approach your peak, hands grasping his strong biceps for support. every inch of your body was on fire, pure pleasure coursing through your veins. only oscar could make you feel this way, so loved and filthy at the same time. it was uninhibited ecstasy. 

you scream his name as your orgasm sends waves of shock through your body, your cunt pulsing as oscar thrusts into you deeper through the high. 

“so beautiful baby i’m almost there. shit, you take me so perfectly, gonna cum inside your pretty pussy.” he slurs, drunk on pleasure. just seeing you fall apart brought him even closer to the edge, his restraint falling apart. 

“fill me up osc, wanna feel you” you urge breathlessly, whining as your overstimulated clit brushes against his skin. his movements grow ragged, slowing down as he thrusts one final time and releases inside you. your name falls from his lips as his hot cum paints your walls, filling your needy cunt. his cock throbs as he pulls out, hissing at the sensitivity. 

“you alright love? that was unreal” he praises as he kisses your forehead gently. 

“mhm” you nod tiredly, watching as cum leaks out from your hole, “shit we made such a mess on these nice seats.”

oscar lets out a laugh and guides you to sit up leaning against him for stability, “definitely worth it love.”

“it was amazing, but i still want my cake you promised.” you pout, rubbing his face tenderly. 

“of course, my valentine. but lets take a breather before we drive back, you took everything out of me.” 

[spider-stark]

A BOY'S FIRST PEST

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - Kaz Brekker thinks Per Haskell's daughter is a (very lovely) pest

Warnings - fem!reader, traumatraumatrauma, the woes of troubled youth, light mentions of blood and death, these bitches trauma bonded yo, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED WE DIE LIKE MEN

Word Count - 2.0k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

Everyone knows Kaz Brekker put his own money into fixing up the Slat. 

He hired men to patch the leaky roof (though it still drips during a heavy rain) and put proper insulation in the walls (which keeps the house warm enough, even if it does nothing to muffle the noise of its occupants). He had all the doors fitted with working knobs (but easily picked locks) and ensured the kitchen was capable of making a warm meal (even if seriously doubted any of the Dregs knew how to cook). 

And while he would never admit it aloud, Kaz was also the one who made sure there were always clean linens in every room (albeit the cheapest Ketterdam has to offer) and spare clothes in every closet (sizes ranging from wafer-thin to barrel-chested). In keeping, he also takes it upon himself to keep the bathing room stocked with a steady supply of toiletries (because if someone uses his toothbrush again, he’s going to kill everyone in this place and then himself). 

Because of Kaz Brekker, the Slat was more than just a safe place to hole up. It was a haven, the closest thing many of the Dregs had to a home. 

But it did, of course, have one enduring problem. 

The pests.

Or, namely, the one pest—one that he could never quite exterminate (though the spider privy to the inner-workings of Kaz Brekker’s mind might argue the merit of replacing ‘could never’ with ‘would never’). 

Per Haskell’s very annoying (and very lovely) daughter. 

In the midst of Ketterdam’s hottest season, you find yourself lying sprawled on your back atop the dark sheets, clad in the skimpiest nightclothes you own: a matching set of black silk shorts and flowy, thin-strapped camisole. The air is thick and near stifling in the attic-bedroom, but you don’t mind it. You prefer being hot to cold, if only because the heavy weight of winter clothes makes you feel trapped, eliciting the urge to crawl straight from your skin. 

When the door finally swings open, you eagerly push up onto your elbows. 

Kaz doesn’t so much as spare a glance in your direction. He’s got one hand on his cane, the other shoving the door shut behind him as he limps toward his desk, guided by the bright moonlight spilling in from the muggy window. 

Your shoulders slump, huffing out a breath. “Seriously? You’re not even gonna greet me?” 

With his back turned to you, Kaz removes his hat and places it on the desk. He doesn’t look at you. “You’re in my room.” 

“Yeah—so I was actually thinking something more along the lines of hello,” you drone, lips pursed. “Y’know, that thing normal people say when they see their friends.” 

“We’re not friends.” 

A hand flies to your chest, as if struck by his words. “Um, ouch? Rude. For your sake, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

Kaz tugs off his signature gloves and tosses them next to his hat. “I can always repeat it,” he says, so impassive you can’t tell if it’s a joke. 

Knowing Kaz, you’re pretty sure it’s not. 

You push up the rest of the way, scooting down to sit cross-legged at the end of his bed. It’s so much nicer than yours—the sheets softer, the mattress plusher, the smell so familiar and warm. 

If it were up to you, you’d sleep in here every night. 

And most nights, that’s exactly what you do. 

“Would it kill you to be nice sometimes?” you ask. 

“Not usually, no.” Kaz faces you, his weight leaned back against the desk, his cane propped against it. “But we both know you’re a special case.” 

“Is that a compliment?” 

“Not at all.” 

Your bottom lip juts into a pout. “Has anyone ever told you you’re an asshole?” 

Aside from the subtlest lift of his brows, Kaz’s expression remains vague and disinterested. “Regularly,” he deadpans, looking the image of austere melancholy. 

Your laugh comes so sudden it sounds like a snort. “I should’ve guessed,” you nod, forever unphased by Kaz’s forbidding attitude. 

This is the way things have always been between you. Ever since a surly twelve year old marched head-high into your father’s office to see if the Dregs needed a new grunt, oblivious to the girl beaming up at him from a lonely corner, weaving colorful scraps of thread into bracelets for the friends you’d yet to make. 

Kaz Brekker is dark and foreboding while you’re bright and bubbly; he’s rude and standoffish while you’re sweet and flirtatious. Some may liken your relationship to oil and water, but you prefer thinking of it as a carefully crafted balance—a yin and yang sort of thing. 

Kaz, on the other hand, would simply say you’re a thorn in his side. 

Fortunately for yourself, you’re not an easily offended thorn. 

The rickety floorboards creak as Kaz starts around the desk. His bare fingers trail along the varnished edge for support. His limp is always at its worst by this time of night, so you’re not surprised to see the flicker of relief that slips over him when he finally sinks into the chair. 

“Have you ever considered that maybe you work too hard?” Your voice teeters on the edge of concern, tracing idle shapes against the sheets with your nails. 

His answer is curt, and contradictory to the purple smudges beneath his eyes. “No.” 

Fumbling with his cufflinks—simple, unadorned things—Kaz rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Afterwards, he flips open the thick ledger laid before him, plucking up a pen and dipping it into an awaiting pot of ink. 

Kaz keeps track of the Dregs expenses in his head—a skill you’ve always found most impressive, since you can hardly do a simple equation without scratch paper. Still, he keeps the physical record for the sake of having something to point to in case someone’s ever stupid enough to claim Dirtyhands flubbed the numbers. 

As he works, boredom quickly becomes a chip on your shoulder. 

Your legs unfurl, bare feet stretching toward the floor as you slip off the edge of the bed. Every step is purposeful, traipsing toward him with a look that’s not so unlike a cat readying to toy with its favorite mouse. 

“Maybe we should take a holiday,” you suggest, your voice a soft trill. 

One part of you expects to be ignored, the other to be shot down. 

He lands somewhere in the middle. 

“And go where? His eyes remain focused on the ledger, dark brows drawn tight in concentration. You envision numbers flashing before him, adding and subtracting at the steady pass of the nib scratching against parchment. 

“I don’t know. Ravka, maybe?” 

“Ravka?” It’s like the word tastes sour on his tongue. “Why?” 

You stop just short of his desk, an answer instantly rapping at your mind. You quickly replace it with one that’s far less tragic. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Nikolai Lantsov with my own eyes,” you drawl. “Nina says he’s quite the looker, y’know.” 

Kaz sits up a little straighter, shoulders pinned with newfound tension. 

“Of course he is.” He seems to press the nib down harder, his disinterested tone bordering close to resentful. “He’s a prince—looking pretty is all they’re good for.” 

Your head tilts. “Well, he’s actually a king now, so…” 

There’s the briefest falter in the smooth motion of his jotting wrist. “I’m not taking you to Ravka so you can seduce the Lantsov bastard.” 

“And why not?” You reach for the tip of his cane, still propped against the desk, skimming a finger over the crow’s head. “You think I can’t do it?” 

The pen keeps on scratching, accented by the dull hum of the Slat’s perpetual motion—doors slamming, voices cackling. Your ego grows larger for every second Kaz stays silent, your satisfaction settling into a feline smirk. 

Simply, yet firmly, Kaz eventually maintains, “We’re not going to Ravka.” 

Your exhale is something over dramatic, laden with feigned disappointment as you huff, “Fine!” Kaz never looks up, continuing with the ledger. 

Abandoning the crow’s head, you swipe one of Kaz’s abandoned gloves off the desk, fiddling with the smooth leather. Still recovering from their civil war, you imagine Ravka isn’t an ideal travel spot right now, anyway. Not unless someone has a morbid desire to tour the sites where Saints met their often-grisly ends, that is… Besides, for all Nina’s praise of the Lantsov king, you’ve never actually had a thing for blondes. 

And yet— 

“I really would like to go someday.” Your voice is hardly a whisper. Your other answer—tragic and rapping—crawls up your throat in a hoarse admission, “My mother was Ravkan.” 

That persistent scratching finally comes to a sudden halt. 

For the first time since he entered the room, Kaz looks up. There’s not a hint of pity in his eyes, though they gleam with solemn understanding. Your lips thin, pressing his glove tight to your chest. 

In the winter of your fourteen birthday, you snuck into your father’s office and stole a full bottle of kvas. Dressed in clothes too light for the frigid weather, you sped up the crooked stairs to Kaz’s attic-bedroom, pleading until he begrudgingly agreed to join you on the moonlit roof. For a boy who claimed such an aversion to you, he was always doing things you asked—even if he’d griped the whole time. You both gagged after the first sip of hard liquor. After an hour or so, the full bottle had dwindled to just a drop, your tongues seeming to move with more freedom. 

Neither of you had been prepared for the way the carbonated joy in your chests fizzled to something stagnant. 

I don’t like being alone, you told him, fiddling with the frayed strings tied around your wrist, the friendship bracelets no one ever wanted. If I’m alone, it means I’m thinking, and if I’m thinking, it means my mother won’t stop dying. 

You told him of the endless montage in your head. How at six years old, a walk along the Stave in your favorite winter coat ended with getting crushed beneath the weight of your mother’s last act of devotion, shielded by a body crumpled and crimson, shorn in the crossfire of unexpected gang violence. When you fell silent, Kaz drained the last drop of kvas and told you about a coffee shop near the Exchange. About a sickboat and a boy named Jordie, about a frosty harbor and an impossible swim that left him unable to bear the touch of another’s skin. 

When neither of you had any soul left to bear, Kaz chucked the bottle off the roof. You don’t remember hearing it shatter, and maybe it never did. Maybe it hit some hapless pigeon and fractured his skull. Maybe it ceased to exist the moment it went over the edge. The bottle didn’t matter. Not to you. Not when Kaz Brekker reached for your wrist, leather-clad fingers gently tugging the bracelets off your wrist. 

Don’t make a thing of this, he told you, stuffing them in his pocket. You’re still a pest.

But it was a thing. A strange, beautiful thing—and both of you knew it. 

“Fine.” Kaz’s voice—the rasp of stone on stone—drags you back to the present. He sits the pen down beside the ledger, a strand of black hair swaying with the subtle shake of his head. “We’ll go to Ravka. You’ll seduce some sorry prince and live happily ever after in a gaudy palace. I’ll make my fortune snagging the Lantsov Emerald and use it to hire a proper bookkeeper. Deal?” 

Your lips twitch, still hugging his glove to your chest. “King,” you correct him. 

His eyes roll, but a flicker of something warm betrays his affection. “Pest,” he calls you, though it doesn’t sound like much of an insult. 

“I imagine the Grand Palace has fine exterminators,” you muse. 

“Then I suppose your marriage will be short-lived.” 

“Will you save me, then?” Your heart leaps with the question, how it slips from your tongue before you can grasp it. 

Kaz hesitates. Then—remarkably—smiles. 

“Maybe.”

a/n - you know what they say. a bottle of kvas is never just a bottle of kvas, amirite

(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

anyways, i was procrastinating an essay and thought "lets write something with a somewhat ambiguous ending!" and voila, a boy's first pest is the product. now everyone say: lainie, go work on your original writing and stop writing so much fan fiction! (but i'm already thinking of a kaz smut drabble so) anyways, comments and reblogs much appreciated, i cry with joy every time someone actively interacts with my work so THANK YOU

[queen-of-the-avengers]

The Neighbor

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.6k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You and Bucky have been neighbors long enough to know that he pisses you off. It pisses you off how often he brings home women. It pisses you off to hear them through the thin walls. It pisses you off just how easily he gets under your skin until one day you’re done being pissed off, and you decide to do something about it.

Square Filled: “don’t make me laugh.” (2024) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: i found this idea on tiktok! if you click on the OP's video, you'll find an entire group of videos about her and her neighbor. i got ideas from a few of them! enjoy!

x

Peaceful atmosphere. All you need is your book, a glass of wine, and soft music playing through your record player. You find music to be much crisper and more authentic coming from records rather than music apps or CDs. You had a hard day at work so this is the perfect way to unwind from the stress. You take a sip of your wine and flip the page in your book, engrossed in the story.

Suddenly, a loud moan sounds from your neighbor’s house. Just like that, your evening is ruined. The headboard banging against the wall accompanies the moaning, and you glare at the wall as if it’s to blame for the noise. You know exactly who to blame for this. Bucky fucking Barnes. Your fuckboy neighbor with his woman of the week. It seems like he’s doing this to you on purpose. It’s like he knows you’re home trying to relax, and then he does shit like this that pisses you off.

The building is over two hundred and fifty years old, so the walls are thin, allowing you to hear everything Bucky’s got going on in his place. Looks like you won’t be finishing this book after all. After finishing the chapter, you dump the rest of your wine down the sink and go to bed.

When you wake up in the morning, you mentally plan to go over to Bucky’s place and confront him about him and his whores. Okay, maybe they’re not whores. He’s the whore. He brings home a new girl almost every night. Only the special ones get a second or even a third day. How he knows this many women, you have no idea, but it’s annoying and disrupting.

Either he needs to take his women somewhere else or shut the fuck up.

First, you need to take a shower. You slide out of bed and trudge to the bathroom while rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You turn the bathtub on and start to undress. You only go to bed in a shirt and a pair of panties, but you want to wait until the water is warm enough. With being butt-ass naked, you walk out of the bathroom and to your kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. By the time you’re done with your shower, your coffee should be hot and ready.

You turn to head back to the bathroom when you lock eyes with Bucky who is on the other side of your kitchen window with a smug smile on his gorgeous face. Damn it, you forgot that you share a terrace with him. Your kitchen window faces his front door, and you forgot to close the curtains before you went to bed last night. You yelp in surprise and drop to your knees, hidden by the kitchen island. If Bucky really wanted to get a good look at you, he’d have to press his face against the glass.

Thankfully, he doesn’t do that. He already got an eyeful with your boobs hanging out for everyone to see.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Are you okay?” he shouts from the other side of the glass.

“Leave me alone!” you yell back.

You have to crawl back to your bedroom because you can’t very well stand up and run knowing he’ll get a good look at your ass. There is only one solution. You have to move. There’s no doubt about it. You live in a small town where the rent is cheap. You can’t afford to move anywhere else, much less the big city.

During the shower, you revel in your embarrassment and what Bucky is going to say when he sees you next. By the time your shower ends, you’re more pissed than before. What the hell was he doing creeping through your window? You get dressed in gray leggings and a loose black shirt before storming over to Bucky’s place. Forget coffee, you’re wide awake now.

It’s like he knows you’re coming over because you barely knock once before he opens the door. He has a fucking smirk on his face that you’d love nothing more than to slap away. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms which makes his arms look bigger than they are.

“Can I help you?”

“I came over here for one reason and one reason only, but that reason went out the window when you saw… me.”

“Don’t be ashamed. They’re great boobs.”

“Stop it,” you snap. “Why are you creeping through my window?”

“Why are you walking around your apartment naked?”

“That is none of your business.”

“Next time, close the curtains.” He winks. “You have a great day. Bye now.”

Bucky closes the door and steam practically comes out of your ears from how pissed off you are.

“Go to hell,” you bite out before storming back to your place.

There isn’t another incident for the rest of the week. In fact, Bucky plays the dutiful neighbor. No women. No disturbing noises. No peeking through your window. Work has been kicking your butt, so your sister thinks going on a date is a fun way to unwind. She has a friend coming from the city for work, and she talked you up to him eagerly.

Now you have to go on a date and pretend like you’re having fun. That’s not fair, he might be a great man. You just don’t want to go on a blind date and end up not liking the guy. The night before the big date, Bucky brings home a new woman and falls back into old habits. It pisses you off. If he can come home with someone new every night, then maybe you should give him a taste of his own medicine.

The date goes fine, not the worst but definitely not the best. The guy is pretty boring but you’re only bringing him home for one reason. It’s not fair to him that you want to use him to get back at Bucky, but you’re not perfect.

You and Ted get back to your place, but you’re not going to invite him in. Ted seems happy just to be here. When you get to your door, you try to look into Bucky’s window to see if he’s home. The light’s not on but that doesn’t mean he’s not inside.

“I had a great time,” Ted says.

“Yeah, I did too,” you white-lie. Honestly, you might have had more fun on your couch watching a movie. “So…”

Ted finds the courage in himself and leans in. Okay, it doesn’t hurt to smooch a bit. You love a little smooch, so you allow Ted to grab you and pull you in close. He’s not the best kisser but he’s not the worst. That seems to be the motto of your life. Not the best, but it could be worse. If Ted senses that you’re not that into it, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

Bucky arrives home after pulling some extra hours and starts to climb the rickety stairs to his place. He pauses when he spots you on the terrace with a man all over you. He leans against the railing in the shadows and watches you try to get into the kiss. He’s not holding you right, he’s not pressing himself against your body, and he’s not taking control of the kiss. Who the hell is this guy?

Ted moves his hands down and brushes his fingers over your boobs, and you tense slightly. Bucky immediately sees it and decides to step in. He clears his throat and you pull away from Ted.

“Oh, hey, Bucky. I didn’t see you there.”

“How could you? Who is this?”

“My date.”

“Clearly. Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to my apartment.”

No one moves an inch. The only way past you is to slide through the opening between you and Ted. bucky takes his opportunity to be close to you and starts to slide past you. He has to press his entire body against yours in order to do so, and you keep eye contact no matter how much you want to try and hide from it. He’s so close to you that you can smell his minty breath and feel the dips of his muscles.

You look into his blue oceans and feel an instant connection. You can’t be attracted to Bucky. He’s a fuckboy. He’s cocky and arrogant. You shouldn’t be attracted to him, but the last thing you’re gonna do is let him know.

“You can do so much better,” he whispers before sliding past you.

“So, I’m gonna go,” Ted says after Bucky disappears into his apartment. “I’ll call you, okay?”

“Sure,” you mumble.

You rush into your apartment and slam the door closed, making sure to lock it behind you. Yeah, you definitely have to move.

The next morning, as you’re getting ready for work, you have your sister on the phone. She tried calling you last night to get the juicy details of the date, but you went to sleep early.

“Pen, I love you, but no more blind dates for me, okay?”

“Did he hurt you?” she growls angrily. “I’ll beat his ass.”

“No,” you laugh. “He was the perfect gentleman. There just wasn’t any spark. Not even kissing him made me feel tingly. Honestly, the only reason why I saw the date until the end was because it’s been a while and I figured going on one date couldn’t hurt.”

“But…?”

“How do you know there’s a ‘but’?”

“I know you, Y/N. There’s always a ‘but’ with you.”

“It’s not so much as a ‘but’ as it’s ‘until’. I wasn’t having the worst time until Bucky came home. He ruined my night.”

“How?”

You button up your shirt and roll your socks on before walking into the kitchen for some coffee.

“He just… Okay, he was… You had to be there, Penelope. I was kissing Ted when he showed up. You know how small the staircase is, so he had to push his way between us to get home. He’s such a fucking asshole. He told me I could do so much better as if that person was him. He doesn’t know Ted. For all he knows, I could have been having the time of my life. It’s like he’s infecting every part of my life.”

“Man, he really gets under your skin, huh?”

“He’s a fuckboy and cocky and stupid. I hate his face and his stupid blue eyes and sharp jaw. Ugh, he pisses me off.”

“Sounds like someone has a crush,” she sings.

“Stop.” You pour the coffee into your thermos and finish getting ready for work. You grab your keys and step out onto the terrace. “There’s no crush.”

“Mornin’, neighbor.” You tense when you hear Bucky’s voice from behind you, and you slowly turn to face him. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Is this about last night? Is this about him seeing your boobs? Is this about literally anything else?

“Y/N?” Penelope says over the phone.

“I gotta call you back.” You hang up to give Bucky your undivided attention. The only thing separating you and Bucky is a tiny little gate that determines the boundary between your apartments. “What’s up?”

“Every time you shut your door, it rattles my entire apartment.”

You pause. Is he being for real? Is he being so fucking for real right now? A million and one responses are ticking off in your head but you pick the most passive-aggressive one you can think of.

“You mean like this?”

You open your door and slam it shut. It indeed does rattle his apartment, but Bucky doesn’t find this amusing.

“Yes, like that,” he grits out.

“Mmm. Maybe next time you won’t bring women home and interrupt my time with your headboard banding so good day to you, sir.”

With that, you lock your door and immediately rush down the stairs. Everything echoes so you can hear Bucky’s deep chuckle. You shouldn’t find that so hot. Goddamn it. After a boring day of work, you decide to go to the grocery store and stock up on everything that you need. It’s the middle of the week so the store is pretty empty, allowing you to get out faster than you thought you would.

You arrive home an hour later, but your peace is shattered when you see Bucky’s car. The trunk is open which means he’s either coming or going. Either way, you’ll run into Bucky. Should you get out? The smell of cold cuts wafts from that trunk and you know you have to get those into the fridge immediately. With an eye roll, you get out of the car and open your trunk.

There is only one way to bring in your groceries, and you’ll die on the hill that it should be one trip every single time. You’d rather stick your hand in hot water than make two trips. There is no elevator in your building, and the stairs are narrow, but you’re going to make it work.

Bucky sets down the box he grabbed from his trunk and leaves the apartment for the last one. His footsteps are heavy on the creaky stairs but no one is around to hear them. He steps outside and pauses when he sees you piling grocery bags onto your arms. If there is space, you have a plastic bag hooked to it. He walks to his car and leans against it, far more interested in you than what he was doing.

You put the last of your bags on your arms and try to close the trunk but to no avail. The bags are super heavy, not allowing you to raise your arms to close the trunk.

“Looks like you got a lot going on,” Bucky says, startling you. “Do you want some help?”

“No, I got it. I don’t need any help from you, thank you.”

Bucky smirks when you try to close the trunk, this time with your leg. Nothing.

“You know, you’re allowed to accept help every once in a while.” You pause and look at him with a mix of a glare and surprise. “Just saying.” You turn back around and try again to close the trunk, but you should just give up at this point. Your arms are hurting from the weight of the bags, and you’re pretty sure you’re cutting off circulation. “Come on, Y/N. We’re neighbors. We might as well be friends.”

“Might as well? You want to be friends with me?” He nods and you laugh in his face. “Fine. I will take help only because I’m starting not to feel my arms so please close my trunk.” Bucky pushes off his car and shuts your trunk without breaking eye contact. “Have a great day.”

Bucky watches you trudge to the stairs, and his smile only grows when he sees you take the steps one at a time like how a small toddler would.

With that embarrassing encounter, you spend the next hour putting all your shit away. What you should do now is relax and find your inner Zen with some meditation, but you desperately need to clean the place as you haven’t done so for two weeks. You could blast your music and annoy the shit out of Bucky, but you don’t feel like having another confrontation with him. Especially not after the shit he just pulled.

Might as well be? What the fuck? Cleaning also gets your mind off your problems, so you get to work immediately after putting all your food away. You’re about halfway through cleaning the living room when you spot it. A big fucking spider on the wall. A scream makes its way up your throat but you swallow it down. You don’t fear anything more than you fear spiders.

The only option you have is to take care of it yourself because you refuse to call Bucky over this. All that will do to him is make him look like a fucking hero and you’re not going to feed his ego. You look around the living room for something to capture the spider because you refuse to kill it. Plus, it’s big and you really don’t want to hear that crunch.

The small vacuum you were using to clean the couch catches your eye, and a lightbulb turns on in your head. That could work. You grab the vacuum and walk closer to the spider, fearful that one wrong move will have it skittering into a dark crevice. With one courageous move, you turn the vacuum on and stick it to the wall where the spider is. It gets sucked up just like you hoped, and you actually cheer for yourself. You freeze and look out your kitchen window to see if Bucky heard that but nothing happens.

Good, you’re in the clear.

You walk outside on your shared terrace and approach the small flower box you have. The worst thing about living in an apartment is that there is no yard for you to plant beautiful flowers, so you have a flower box to give your side of the terrace some color. Putting this spider that’s now freaking out inside the vacuum anywhere but the flower box might be bad. He could get back into your apartment or he could fall off the terrace and die. Not good.

You awkwardly hold the vacuum away from you as you open the tub. The spider jumps out the first second it gets and you let out a little yelp when it skitters away. You’re about to go inside when you notice the dirt from the flower box on your terrace. The broom works just as well but you already have the vacuum in hand.

With a shrug, you bend down and start vacuuming the dirt around the flower box.

“What are you doing?”

You scream at the sudden voice and turn to see Bucky standing on his side of the terrace. There’s no point in trying to lie to him.

“There was a spider in my apartment.”

“Did you vacuum it to death?” he grins.

“No. Stop smiling like that. I couldn’t kill it, and I refused to call you for help so I had to vacuum it. I let it go and I noticed how dirty the terrace was so I--” You suddenly stop talking. “What am I doing? I don’t owe you an explanation.”

You storm back into your apartment, and Bucky laughs at how frustrated you get over him. It’s cute. You make it so easy. Bucky doesn’t stop there. All week, he’s either bringing home a new woman, catching you trying to make one trip to your car, or running into you in town. Everywhere you look, there is Bucky. He’s become like a disease you can’t get rid of.

Friday night finally comes and you’re looking forward to a night of quiet reading. Though, the second you open your book, moaning comes from Bucky’s apartment. Something inside of you snaps. That’s it. You’re fucking done. You’re tired of playing this game with him. You storm out of your place and over to his and pound on his front door.

It’s like the fucker is waiting for you because the door opens seconds later.

“Can I help you?”

“Shut the fuck up! God, it’s like you have a pornstar in there! Go somewhere else. I’m done hearing you and your whores when all I want to do is have a quiet night in!”

You turn on your heels and storm back into your place, making sure to slam the door as hard as you can so it rattles his apartment. The noises have stopped even though you half-expected Bucky to continue to make them just to spite you. Twenty minutes later, someone knocks on your door. You don’t have to look through the peephole to know who it is.

You walk over to the door and yank it open, ready to give Bucky a piece of your mind, but the words die on your lips. He’s standing there wearing a tight black shirt and gray sweatpants, leaving very little to the imagination. No wonder his women moan like that.

“What do you want?”

You told yourself to be confident and angry but the words come out breathless and small.

“I got rid of her.”

“Great. You can follow directions.”

He raises both hands and leans on the top of the doorframe, quickly reminding you just how big he is compared to the small doors.

“Since you so clearly want to, you can come over.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, that’s why you wanted me to get rid of her, right? So you can have me all to yourself?”

You can’t help but bark out a laugh. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I mean, that’s why you treat me the way you do, right? It’s either you hate me or you hate how much you’re into me.”

You step closer to him. “You wish I was interested in you.” He leans down and your eyes widen. “What are you doing?”

“Tell me to stop.”

You open your mouth to tell him to fuck off, but the words don’t come out. His eyes are so blue, so captivating, and his lips look so smooth and inviting. Bucky can see the want on your face so he decides for you. He closes the distance and kisses you. Sparks immediately fly and your entire body heats up. He pulls away only slightly and rubs his nose against yours.

“No more dates.”

“Then no more women,” you whisper back.

He smiles. “I can do that.”

This time, when he kisses you, it’s more intense and passionate. He picks you up by your thighs and walks into your apartment, kicking your door closed with his foot. It’s about time you see what’s got all those women falling for him.

x

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[odeverload]

xdinary heroes sending nudes

tags: masturbation, phone sex in jungsu’s, slight dacryphilia/degradation in gaon’s, gn!reader, slight sub!xdiz, slight sub!reader, allusions to mirror sex? slight crack (i can’t take myself seriously when i write)

nsfw under the cut!

gunil -

as much as i wanna joke about his millennial-like tendencies, i feel like gunil knows his power and knows the (literal) chokehold his body and physique have on you. before anything nsfw, he’s absolutely start off by teasing you with photos of him at the gym, covered in sweat and wearing only a tank top and the tiniest gym shorts known to man. he’d be sitting on a bench machine, taking a selfie in the mirror flexing his pumped bicep. but the real point was to show u his growing bulge that was unmissable poking through his gym shorts. poor guy has to finish his set rock-hard before going home to u to solve his problem

jungsu -

ah jungsu our polite boy !! i have a feeling he’d be too anxious to send any photos or videos, out of respect for you and also because he doesn’t think they’d turn out well (LIES. send me your cock jungsu). but if he’s ever in a particularly needy mood you’d find yourself on facetime with him, coaxing him to jerk himself off as he whines for your touch. he’d be covering his mouth with one hand and stroking his impossibly hard length in the other. his phone would be propped up on his bedside table, and you’d have a delicious view of your poor horny boyfriend squirming as he wishes you were there to touch instead.

gaon -

jiseok’s freaky ass is well versed in nude-taking i fear !! he’d start off with photos of him rubbing it through his pants and eventually some rushed pictures of his bare hard-on, but let’s be fr this is gaon. he’s sending videos EVERY. TIME. and it’s actually very well recorded and filmed like he has a whole setup probably. makes it so that you can see his body from his knees-up, laying in bed as he strokes his cock fully naked. he’d be full-on moaning and crying out for you, bucking his hips up pathetically as he cums all over his tight fist. he’d opt to send videos of him jerking it rather than photos simply bc it better shows just how needy he is for you !

ode -

my man my man 😫 ode is the king of nudes (have you seen his mirror selfies…yeah). his nudes are more than nudes, they’re like an art form. carefully planned, taken, and edited, his nudes start out tame, gripping his growing bulge through his pants. he sends endless ab pictures, his rib tattoo poking out from underneath the thin fabric of his white tank. his favorite kind of nudes to send you, though, are mirror selfies of his naked form, sat down on the edge of his bed, toying with his hard-on and a playful smirk decorating his face. sometimes he graces you with a video of him slowly stroking his dick in the mirror, his furrowed brows getting caught in the frame as he shows you just how much he misses you.

junhan -

he’s a low energy guy so i imagine his effort when it comes to nudes is similar. if u ask for any regular nude he’s probably just send a straight up pov of his half-hard dick in hand, pretty nails and his finger tattoos on display. for special occasions or if he’s particularly wanting to show u how much he wants you he’ll send a video of him jerking his cock, and you’ll nearly bust right there from his small, restrained noises. as time goes on he’d get more into sending you purely audio messages of him stroking himself. the voice notes he’d send of his quiet moans, getting higher-pitched and more disoriented as he nears his climax. he can never bring himself to listen to them once they’ve been sent, poor baby would be too embarrassed. he’d sound so cute trying to keep his composure for u jcjdnxjksn

jooyeon -

okay being so fr here. his selfie track record is pretty shit so i think he keeps the same energy for his nudes unfortunately. blurry. unfocused. awkward. you can see his messy ass room in the background and why is he standing like the enderman with his willy out in the mirror? despite any potential tips or pointers you give him, the best he’s giving you is a straight up photo of his dick. like no hands or anything it’s just hanging there. i think he’d much rather receive nudes from you than send any, but if you ask nicely enough you could get a photo of his cock in hand, angrily red and leaking, as he lays in bed with the lights off. don’t keep him waiting~

author notes: hey hello ! xdh tumblr is way too dry for my liking so i decided to take matters into my own hands. this was written very haphazardly and at a very late hour so i apologize for potential errors. this idea came from the depths of mine and my villaintwt mutuals (shoutout holechella)! i hope u enjoy reading and maybe ill post again soon? until then, happy reading :D

[livesincerely]

“Is that them?” a voice shouts. Eddie glances up from where he’s just finished splinting the last kid’s wrist to find a heavy-set white guy storming towards them, literally spitting with anger. “Are those the shitheads that destroyed my construction site?”

“Sir,” Eddie says, moving to intercept. “Sir, I understand that you’re upset, but you need to stay behind the barriers.”

“You’re damn right, I’m upset!” the man yells. There’s this acrid stink of unbridled rage wafting off of him like the worst kind of body odor, the vein in his forehead throbbing furiously. “You fucking delinquents, do you have any idea what you’ve— Hey! Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

“Sir,” Eddie says again, voice firm. “This is an active emergency incident. You need to step back.”

“Three weeks behind schedule, hundreds of thousands of dollars in the hole,” he says, still screaming at the very top of his lungs. “And you’re treating their fucking booboos? I want them in handcuffs! I want them behind bars!”

“Sir, please calm—“

“Don’t tell me to—!”

The—obvious, inevitable, for fuck’s sake, really?—shove barely even phases him, but the heel of his boot catches on a piece of debris and his back foot goes skidding out from underneath him. His arms fly out as he fights for balance, bracing himself for a hard fall.

Instead, he lands against a firm, familiar chest.

“Do not,” Buck growls in a low, dangerous voice, because of course Buck’s here right as Eddie needs him, always watching his back. “Put your hands on him.”

He can’t quite smell him between the dust in the air and all the blockers he’s slathered on, but it doesn’t take a genius to identify a supremely pissed off alpha. Asshole Civilian must realize it too because his beady eyes go wide, his lips turning pale and thin as all the blood drains from his face.

“I— I was just—“

Buck tips Eddie back onto his feet, strong hands lingering on his hips for a moment as if to make certain he’s steady before pulling away.

“Firefighter Diaz told you to move back behind the barricade,” Buck says, his expression thunderous as he gets right up in the guy’s face. He’s got, maybe, four inches on this guy, but with the way he looms over him, it might as well be four feet. “I strongly suggest that you follow his instructions.”

Any intelligent person would cut their losses, scurrying away with their tail between their legs. But this guy proves himself to be a special type of stupid.

“This is my building,” he protests in a voice like a wet paper towel. “I have a right to expect—“

“Half of your building fell into a sinkhole,” Buck cuts in, thoroughly unimpressed, “and the other half is on fire. The entire area is under the purview of emergency personnel until further notice, and any interference,” he continues, “is considered an obstruction of justice. And attacking a firefighter is felony assault.”

Idiot Asshole Civilian makes a noise that’s somewhere between a gurgle and a wheeze, and somehow manages to pale even further.

“So, you can either calm down and find somewhere out of the way to wait for an update, or I will personally escort you off of the scene and directly into the back of the squad car. Your choice.”

He’s incredibly sexy like this: all protective and righteous on Eddie’s behalf, his cheeks flushed with fury and his lip curling like he’s barely holding back a snarl. If it weren’t for three-alarm fire blazing steadily behind them, he’d climb him like a fucking tree, right there in front of god and everbody.

“Down boy,” Eddie murmurs instead, pressing a hand to his chest, because when Buck starts to snap and snarl, it’s Eddie’s job to tug on his line and haul him back. “I think you’ve more than made your point.”

For a moment, he’s not sure if Buck will let it go. His nostrils flare like a dragon defending its hoard, his eyes flashing from blue to red and back again between one blink and the next.

He grinds out, “Back. Behind. The barricade.”

Then he turns on his heel and stalks away, disappearing into the throngs of first responders.

[reiderwriter]

Smutty part two of the hand to hand combat fic plz

A/N: Your wish is my command! I think a lot of people were frustrated at where I left the first part off lol, so here's a special treat for everyone who lowkey hated me after that lmao. Enjoy! 18+ MINORS DNI Also it is a crime that there aren't more gifs of Spencer wet, I have used most of them ㅠㅠ

You can read the first part here!

Warnings: shower sex, fingering, suggestive washing idk, Intercrural sex (he fucks the gap between her thighs for a while), no contraception, PinV sex, slight cum play? I guess?

You can also find my masterlist here, and if you enjoy my 18+ works, I'm partaking in kinktober, and you can find out about all of my plans here :]

As you washed off the day's sweat, standing in the shower rooms of the FBI gym, you cursed the gods above for making you such a coward. 

If you'd been bolder during your sparring session with Spencer, you could've ended the day in a much more pleasurable way, or you'd at least have the memory of whatever you'd do to aid your fantasies. You thought back to your humbling defeats of earlier that day. You really thought you could get the upper hand on Reid in at least one of your rounds, but no. He’d got the jump on you all three times, leaving you squirming under his touch on the mat as he enjoyed his defeats. 

The second-round had been close, having the initial upper-hand being in the assailant role, but he’d used his extra height to throw you off balance, pinning you to the ground from behind, his hands trapping yours against your lower back. You’d blushed at the compromising position, your ass raised suggestively, his bodyweight pushed on top of yours, crotch to your centre, as you tried stay calm despite the very thin materials of both of your work out gears that separated you. 

Not that you were complaining about the extra contact, but you weren’t beneath using it as an excuse for your loss. In your final round, he’d let you think you hand the upper hand for a second, teasing you about enjoying the view from your place above him, straddling his waist as you pinned him down. By that point, you were beyond horny, reaching near orgasmic levers of desperation to feel him push up into you, and he’d let you enjoy the feeling of your core grinding into him for a few minutes. Just long enough that no one else would notice that your movements weren’t simply struggles to keep him pinned. Then, he’d gone and ruined it by thrusting his hips up quickly and using the momentum and your shock to buck you off to the side, returning you to your earlier pinned pose. Despite the losses, you couldn’t really find much else to complain about other than the fact that you hadn’t kissed him right then and there, having not thrown caution to the wind. 

With each pulse of water from the shower head, you tried to clear your head, but he'd consumed your thoughts. You didn't think you wanted him this badly, but apparently one touch was all it took for you to become aware of the desire you had for him. You let your own hands trail between your legs as you decided to deal with your bodies pent up frustrations.

The door to the bathroom opened, though, just when you were about to get going and you had to pull your hand away as you called out to your new friend. 

"Pen? That you? God I'm so fucking sweaty from that work out." You laughed a little as you greeted her, but the other person didn't make any other noises, stopping dead in their tracks. 

"Y/N?" Somehow your blood ran cold as your body heated up. 

"Spencer? What are you…?" You whipped your head around to get a look at him over the glass shower stall door, pulling your hands over your chest, reflexively. 

"Morgan said the men's showers were broken, and he was heading home to shower. But I can't sit for that long on the subway without getting rid of all this sweat. He said there'd be no one else in here since we stayed so late…. I can… I can leave if you need me to?" 

"No! No, it's okay, it's not like we're using the same shower or anything, and I don't want you to feel so… Uncomfortable." 

He thanked you, then slipped into a stall a three away from your own, as you tried your best not to watch the flex of his arms as he firmly gripped his towel around himself. 

Turning back to your own shower, you decided you needed to speed it up, actually get on with it so you could escape this awkward, tempting situation. You were almost sure this was some kind of divine punishment. You lathered up your hair and began to massage your head when the water suddenly ran so cold it burned. 

"Ah, shit," you whimpered out as you ran from the water as quickly as possible. 

"Um, Spencer?" 

"Y-Yeah," he responded, having heard your moans and immediately perked his head up. 

"Your shower stall, it's the second from the door right?" 

"Yeah, why?" 

"Shit, I should've mentioned something," you ran a hand through your hair as you turned off your shower. "That one doesn't work too well, when you use hot water in that one for some reason, it makes the rest of these showers run cold for the rest of the day." 

"Oh, I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't realise." 

"No, it's good, I guess it's just cold shower time for me now." You sighed in a huff of annoyance, and turned your shower back on. 

"Do you… Do you want to come and use this one? My water's still hot and the cold water really won't be good for relaxing your muscles after all that work." 

"With you?" Your eyes meet his over the walls of your shower stall and you try not to sound too eager. Maybe this could be your chance after being such an idiot earlier. 

"Yeah, I guess. I still need to, you know, wash up?" 

You nodded at him then, and began collecting your things, your towels in your hands covering your sensitive areas, but only just as you stepped into his space.

He pressed himself against one of the walls as you entered, doing his best to cover his cock with his hands, but failing pretty miserably. You shot a single look down there, hoping he didn't notice. He was hard, and God did you want to help him out. 

But unsure of how to broach the topic, you ignored it and put your things down, before turning in to face the shower. A little sign of contentment fell over you as you felt the heat against your skin again, body relaxing as you began washing off your hair once again. 

You felt him move until he was a shadow at your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. 

"Y/N, let me help you clean your back. I don't want you to flare up that arm injury, and you're not reaching that well." 

"What?" Ill advisedly, you turn to face him. His eyes trail over your body, landing on the swell of your chest as you stand only millimeters from touching. Gently dragging his eyes back up, he repeats his plea, and turns you around, grabbing your body wash.

"Trust me, I'll help." But you know this isn't going to do any good easing the tension in your body, his hands on you being as distracting as they were. You almost jusmo a little when his bare hands finally come down on your waist. 

"S-Spencer I have a loofah!" You almost moan out as he begins to rub circles into your skin with his fingers spread. He's closer now, and with his hands out of the way. You can feel his cock, bare against your ass, twitching as you realise he's getting a lot of pleasure out of this. 

"Do you know how much bacteria can live on one of those things? You wanted to get clean, right?" It's all you can do not to buck back into him as he releases the words, hands coming up to your shoulders as he works his strength into your skin. His hands feel so good against you, that you barely notice them slipping around your front, as he begins to work on the plains of your stomach as well.

You throw your head back against his chest in pleasure as he slips higher and higher, hands eventually cupping your breasts as he slowly lathers them up, taking his time to feel every single inch of your skin. You whimper in your pleasure, and you hear his heavy breathing similarly pick up. 

"Spencer…" You don't know what your words are asking, begging for, but it's clear he does, as his hands spread. One goes up to your neck, wrapping around you tightly as you gasp out a breath, the other washing hanging in the air as he rids it of soap before trailing down between your legs. 

His fingers find your clit and you whimper. 

"That's it baby, I'm just gonna help you get clean, okay? Gonna make you feel good, too." You nod at his words, giving him the silent confirmation he needs to press his cock in between your thighs and start rubbing it up against you, not yet pushing it in. You're pushing your ass back into him now as he starts to fuck the folds of your sweet cunt, writhing in pleasure everytime his tip catches on your hole, pleasure rolling off your tongue in waves. 

His hand on your neck keeps you from gaining volume, keeping you grounded as he gets you close to that euphoric bliss. You're desperate to actually feel him inside you though, squirming in the hopes that one of his thrusts will accidentally land on target. 

"Spencer, please…" You know what you want now, and you're desperate for him to listen, as you turn your head to the side, grabbing the back of his own as you pull him down for a sloppy kiss. His hips still as he falls into the kiss, tongue dragging over your lips and begging for entrance. His hand stays on your clit though, and within a few more rubs you feel yourself twitch in his arms, fully held up by his hand on your neck. 

"Spencer, please, need you…" 

"Are you sure, Y/N? This is still a public bathroom, and I don't want you to think you have to do anything just bec-" You cut him off with another kiss, and that's all he needs before he's pressing you back into the shower stall, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing his cock inside of you. 

You pulled his lips down to yours again and again, desperate to taste him, shower abandoned behind you. His pace picked up and soon he was slamming into you, with the full force of his body, the weight that had earlier been used to pin you down now being used to pleasure you to the fullest. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, letting his eyes fall to the place where your two bodies met, his grunts filling the space as you tried your best to bite your tongue. You knew that if you let yourself be as loud as you could've been in that moment, someone would definitely notice. 

"Just like that, Spencer, fuck, just like that." Your hips bucked wildly against his as he pulled your other leg up and around him, holding you fully off the ground as he continued his movements. 

You gripped his back, letting your nails find any purchase they could, dragging scratches down his skin, marking him as yours. You didn't feel so bad about the pain you must've been dealing him though, not when his hands were leaving red handprints on your hips from his tight grip, the sharp discomfort only fuelling your passion. 

"Spence, I'm… Fuck I'm close." Your head slumped into his neck. 

"Cum for my, Y/N, need to feel you clench around my cock." He grunted, and somehow your body listened to his demands perfectly, spilling over the edge with his next thrust. 

He moaned out quickly, lowering your legs to the floor, still holding you up, as he pulled out and stroked his cock a few more times. His white release painted both of your stomachs with his climax, and you fell against each other in your bliss, trying to both gain back your normal heart rate and calm your breath. 

"Spencer, I think we need to get back in the shower," you smiled up at him, and dragged him back over to it as he flushed, not finding the words needed to apologise for his mess. 

You pulled him in for a kiss under the water and mentally thanked Morgan for putting you through hell that day. He pulled away from you to attempt to talk, but you didn't want to let him. 

"You know," he started, but you tried to shut him up again, wanting desperately to feel his lips right back on yours. 

"Y/N, please," he laughed pulling your head away from him as you whined out childishly. 

"You know, Morgan was lying about us needing to do this physical thing." Your eyes bulged at the confession, as you tried to stammer out a reply. 

"What? I… What?" 

"He pulled the same act a year or so ago, too. Y/N, Penelope is never in the field, she doesn't have to do physical training, and we both have enough case hours to cover any further requirements." 

"So he… ThatThat son of a bitch." You muttered angrily to yourself as he ran a hand through your still damp hair, smiling down on you peacefully. 

"Wait, Spencer… If you knew that he was making this whole thing up, why did you go along with it?" 

"Needed an excuse." He pulled you in for another kiss, this one slow and languid, as you felt him twitch to life again at your thigh. 

"An excuse for what?" You moaned out as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving behind a trail of love bites you were sure would bloom into purple bruises, just another decoration for your neck alongside his handprint. 

"An excuse to touch you. You're very good at following professional boundaries, you know?" You laughed at him once more and let him pull you close into him again. It took you an extra hour to shower that day, but it was worth every second. 

[blackdollette]

happy (belated) birthday to me!

"eat my birthday cake, take all your clothes off." | spencer reid

madly. - lana del rey

⊹₊�� synopsis: what better way to end your birthday than stuffing your face?...

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a @bellasprettywords @hiireadstuff

⊹₊⋆ pairing: celebrant!bau!female!reader x spencer

⊹₊⋆ word count: 1,111 (lucky number!)

⊹₊⋆ contents: fluff, smut, cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, overstimulation

a sheepish knock came from the wooden door of your office.

“does the birthday girl have a minute to spare?”

you sluggishly spun around in your chair, eyes landing on spencer’s figure peeking in. a little smile tugged at your lips. it had been a long, stressful day. half the team didn’t even know it was your special day, but you could leave it to spencer to be that shining light at the end of the tunnel.

“nice birthday hat.” you remarked, staring at the rainbow spiraled party hat that sat on the crown of his head. a smile lit up his face in response.

you beckoned him to come inside, signalling for him to shut the door behind him as he held out a plate to you, holding a large slice of your favourite cake with a lit candle on it. your mouth dropped in a flattered grin as you accepted it, setting the plate on your lap.

“thanks, spencer. i appreciate this.”

spencer shrugged, his hands shoved in his pockets. “i meant to drop it off a few hours ago, but you seemed so caught up with work and everything. i figured, now that you’re alone, why not just give it to you now?”

you nodded, watching as he scanned the area once more to make sure the coast was clear. it was 11pm, but he didn’t want to take any chances. after a meticulous peek through the window, he shut the blinds and took your hands in his, gracefully bringing you to your feet and bringing a secure hand to your waist to ensure your balance, his lips finding yours in a polite but thirsty kiss. 

you sighed softly into the intimate display of affection, your hands finding the back of his hair and tangling themselves in his chestnut-brown locks. he held your waist in a close, unyielding grasp, his tongue sinfully meeting yours in a silent battle. it took all your willpower to not tear his clothes off and let him have his way with you right then and there.

spencer passively pushed you back down to the chair that you had originally been seated on, standing in front of you with a furious blush covering his cheeks. he cleared his throat, going down on one knee so he was level with your chest. he looked up at you, his doe-like eyes nearly manifesting a pleading expression.

“you… don’t mind if i give you your present right now, do you..?”

you pursed your lips, wiping away the thin string of saliva that dripped from them with your thumb. “go ahead, spence…”

he nodded, his hands resting on your thighs and kneading the flesh softly. “i’ve been practicing all week for you…”

his fingers crept under the fabric of your tight, short black skirt, starting to pull it up just enough to reveal your panties to him. he wasted no time running his thumb up and down your clothed crotch, giving you those eyes the entire time. it was like he wanted you to run absolutely mad tonight.

he began to pepper sweet little kisses onto you, forcing your legs further apart and feeding on the noises of your quiet mewls. the teasing was quickly getting to your head, making your body jitter in response to his touch.

he slipped a finger underneath the thin fabric, pulling it to the side and sighing at the sight of your swollen, wet cunt. 

“well, would you look at that… and i haven’t even gotten started yet.” he whispered into your pussy, his mouth connecting with your lips in an open-mouthed kiss down under. a strained squeal escaped your throat, your hand finding the back of his head and gripping it loosely.

spencer’s fingers dug into the plush skin of the back of your thighs, kneading the flesh in his grasp as he flicked his tongue on your puffy clit. your back arched in the seat, your vision starting to go slightly misty. you had to admit, he was way better at this than he let on.

“...s-spencer… i-i..”

as you began to request for him to pick up the pace, he darted his tongue in and out of your tight hole, groaning contently at the taste of the honey between your legs. at this point, he was doing it more for his enjoyment than yours. his tongue greedily flicked against your entrance, a shit-eating grin plastered on his saliva coated-lips. as far as he was concerned, this was paradise.

you squirmed as he jutted his tongue in and out of you, your hand starting to push him away as you felt your intestines tightening up. he departed his lips from your cunt, panting heavily as he struggled to speak.

“c’mon, baby… lemme do this. you deserve it…”

he clung on to you even tighter, making your legs wrap around his neck as he feasted on you like you were his last meal. you were so aroused that you hadn’t even noticed when he slipped his fingers into your sopping wet hole.

he curled his digits inside of you, his fingers pressing against your bladder as his wet lips tugged at your clit. he was desperate to have you saturate his pretty face with your fluids. and it was only a matter of time before you did just that.

“spencer..!”

you wailed as his fingertips began abusing your cervix. and that had done it. before you could do anything to stop yourself, you were gushing and creaming and squirting all over his face, your body succumbing to his passive dominance. like a starved dog, he hungrily fed on every last drop, pumping his fingers in and out of you rapidly to summon yet another waterfall.

he made you orgasm again and again, not reaching true satisfaction until your juices poured down his neck, drenching his uniform in an artfully messy way. he exhaled deeply, standing up and wiping off his dripping hands on his pants. meanwhile. you had melted into the seat, struggling to compose yourself after the brutal overstimulation.

he smiled slightly, extending a hand to you to help you up. you shakily took it, allowing him to pull you back to your seat. your knees were practically trembling and your panties were hanging loosely at your ankles.

spencer slowly fell to his knees, gingerly pulling them back up and patting your hips gently afterward, ignoring the obvious wetness in between your legs. he got back to his feet, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a tight hug, whispering as tears began to prick your eyes.

“...i hope you liked the gift, baby. you deserve it.”

author's note: this was meant to come out yesterday but I hope yall enojyed!!!

[blacktofade]

can we talk about the etho/gem/grian dynamics like what on earth is going on there. cucking? throuple? young girl just havin fun trading in a washed up old model (etho) for something new and challenging (grian)? guy who thinks he’s hot shit and is used to getting whatever he wants (grian) chasing after last season’s hottest topic (gemtho)? loser ex-fwb (etho) gets fomo at seeing the new young couple (grigem) flaunting their shit in public? gay girl who really just likes having these pathetic men wrapped around her fingers? it compels me truly

FOR REAL THO! What the fuck is happening between them but dear god never let it stop!

I have a lot of feelings about them, so y'all are actually getting fic next week about it. Kinda sorta based on this grigemtho art @grianhole drew, which changed my life.

Nasty snippet below the cut.

(Context: Gem is blindfolded and tied up by Grian for a very special guest! Unedited, so if you see errors, no you didn't.)

Gem breathes slowly, acutely aware of how every inhale draws her skin taut across her ribs, pushing her breasts up.

“What do you think?” Grian asks, breaking the silence that’s fallen over them. “Worth the drive?”

Etho��s voice sounds tighter than before. “Yeah,” he says. “I think so.”

Grian hums quietly as though agreeing. “Spread your legs, Gem. Show him everything he came here for.”

Gem lets out a hiccupped breath, feeling off-balance, but after a beat, she finds herself obeying.

It seems like too much, like the moment is drawing too thin and will snap at the slightest pressure. But then Gem bends her knees, opening herself up even more.

“Fuck,” Etho says, and Gem’s not sure she’s going to survive the night.

“Yeah,” Grian encourages. “Just wait until you feel how tight she is.”

Gem wonders if Etho’s already starting to get hard. Or maybe he already was when he stepped through the door. He’s had nothing but his own thoughts for God knows how long. It wouldn’t be too surprising.

“Can I — ?” Etho asks, and he must make some kind of gesture Gem can’t see because Grian makes an affirmative noise like he understands completely.

“Yeah,” he repeats. “I can show you what she likes, if you want.”

“I want to find out myself,” Etho answers, which feels so much like him that Gem almost wants to scream.

Her heart leaps into her throat as the bed shifts, like Etho’s resting one knee at the end of it, right between her feet.

She startles when the warmth of a hand settles over her ankle, and although she can feel him, she still can't believe he's really there.

“Etho?” she asks, and his hand slides up, along the outside of her calf.

“Hi, Gem,” he says, the bed shifting again, as though he's climbing onto it fully, and it gets harder for Gem to breathe.

She's naked and tied up and Etho is right there between her legs.

And Grian is watching it all happen.

[bottle-o-wonder]

Random JTK head cannons

Loosely based on the Mason version.

SFW

He loves you wholeheartedly, he really does, he just doesn't show it in ways your used to. He'll bring gifts, things he can do with you like board games, movies and craft supplies, even makeup.

He can't speak very well because of his mouth slits and his voice which was already pretty low is very damaged so it's hard for him to speak and even harder for people to hear him.

Still writes in his journal and sketches pictures of you, sometimes he'll show them to you.

If you are a civilian, than you probably knew him before he moved and was a child hood friend that he sought out after escaping the hospital.

If you are a creep, he probably sought you out first after noticing you, leaving you little over letters that read 'I like your skin' (he thinks your pretty)

He is aware he looks pretty gruesome and scary, so he's in no rush to meet you face to face (yes he is) and he talks to you though either Ben or Toby which kind of backfire cause now they like you too.

Takes a bit of time but he does get you used to him, and even gets the courage to ask you out, and if you say yes, he'll take you to a movie date and even hold your hand.

Dating

Biggest sweetheart, secretly believes in all that lovey dovey movie shit, and deep down he craves it.

Sooo many pet names, doll, babygirl, my girl, sweetheart, pretty, all slight sounding condescending.

He never actually got Christy cause he killed her, and all the girls in the mansion avoid him aside from Nina, who he see as a sister, so your his first everything.

He's about 19 (cause I am) but he's massive and got alotof muscle, he uses it mainly to carry you everywhere, hates putting you down, if you two are in the same room, your in his arms 100% of the time.

Kisses kisses kisses this man begs for them all the time. He still has his and he does kiss all your exposed skin, but he likes when you kiss him, it makes him feel special.

While in the subject he like other forms of affection too, like biting, light tooth tossing, licking (scared you at first his mouth is huge), cuddles, hugs, scratches, rubbing and massaging, all going both ways, you don't even have to ask.

Dates usually included finding an isolated spot, setting up soft things like pillows and blankets, a movie or game and snacks. He also likes driving around in the old sports car he found(stole).

Does get paid per kill in my AU, he's one of the highest earners in the mansion and could retire rn of he wanted (not really), but he loves spoiling you.

"1,000 alright sweetheart? More? You still need you nails done though, I'll add a little more, get the stilletoe, I like those."

A little angsty still, hates seeing you have fun with people other than him, but he knows you'll come home to him at the end of the day.

Sometimes hell let his mind wandering as the noise gets louder and tells him you'll leave nd if hell kill you you'll stay with him forever, almost gave in once, but ℍ𝔼 came to the realization that it would poorly affect Jeffs killing capabilities if he was mourning.

NSFW

Have you guys seen these pictures?

6'9, 200ish pounds, 6.6, curve no lean. He doesn't shave but he will if you ask.

Prefers to have you on top or to fuck you from the back, doesn't want to crush you.

Kinks includ but not limited too: somnophilia, dacraphilia, knife play, period blood consumption, public sex, cream pie, cum eating, face sitting, cockwarming(can be casual), and feet.

Aftercare is kinda rough with him fighting sleep like usual, quick shower together and a nap before going about his day.

Car sex<shower sex<late night sex<lazy morning sex

Everyone can hear you the walls are crazy thin.

Very obedient, won't even deny the fact you get him absolutely pussy drunk and shooting blanks. Can and will beg on even days if he can eat you out.

Odd and even days cause your body can't handle him.

This is all I have right now, fucking drooling for him, I want to be his pretty girl...

Hope the Obsession Squad sees this, @rainrot4me @gravesposts @noctiva @horyaa y'all, want to be friends?

[creampuffqueen]

darlin', oh, you see i've never felt this way before

Yangvik Week Day 6: Jealousy

Summary: Yangchen knows that Kavik is handsome. She just didn't expect to feel so possessive when other people notice the same thing.

Word Count: 3811

CW: sex jokes, innuendos, implied/referenced sex, people being very openly thirsty

(will be posted to ao3 later)

~~~~

The Western Air Temple still smells like home. 

Sitting on the edge of one of the large stone platforms that form the temple, Yangchen takes a deep breath in, the thin mountain air settling deep into her lungs, wrapping its way around her heart. It’s still the same as she’s always remembered, the same she’s longed to breathe throughout her journeys across the world.

There’s a holy day coming up, the main reason Yangchen has come. The temple elders reached out to ask her to lead the ceremonies, to provide the blessings and prayers for the temple. 

Yangchen never minds giving blessings. But it’s a special honor to be asked to do so for her home.  

It’s early, but the temple is already full of life. Yangchen herself has just finished with a dawn meditation session, and now everywhere around her is bustling with activity. Brooms sweeping across the floors, nearby bison grumbling for their morning treats, nuns chatting as they carry supplies from one corner of the temple to another. 

And down on the floor below, a sound that brings a grin creeping onto Yangchen’s face: the gasps and giggles of a group of children utterly enthralled by something. She’s pretty sure she might know why.

Pushing herself to standing, Yangchen grabs her glider to pop it open with a satisfying snap. Her hand settles over the worn wood, fingers falling into a practiced grip. Leaping directly into the open air is as thrilling as always, her body naturally knowing which way to turn to catch the familiar air currents. 

She supposes she could just fly down to the next floor, letting her glider and her airbending catch her fall. But where would the fun be in that? She can’t resist making a few extra turns and spins, reveling in all the free space to fly around. It’s so nice to use her glider somewhere that’s designed for it. 

Eventually, though, she lets herself drop from the air until she’s on solid footing once more, landing with soft feet and fluttering robes, glider staff falling closed once more. She wants to see what all the commotion is about. 

The sight she finds brings a broad smile to her lips: a group of young girls, all around the ages of six to eight, stand gathered before a waterbender, fascinated as they watch him weave a complicated pattern of strings between his fingers. 

Kavik, for his part, looks absolutely thrilled to have amassed such an audience. His hands twist, strings looping over his knuckles, until he brings them apart to show off the design he’s created. 

“This shape is called ‘the polecat-wolverine’.” The little girls ooh and ahh, eyes wide. 

Glancing around, she notices that a few more nuns have gathered to watch, likely just as intrigued about the noise. The approaching holy day means that Air Nomads from all over have returned to the temple to help prepare. Rather than just children and the elderly, nuns of all ages are present - some of them that Yangchen even recognizes from her youth. 

It’s rare that outsiders visit for the holy days. Not that they’re particularly discouraged, but because most people from other nations are put off by the idea of hours-long meditation sessions, early hikes to sacred sites around the temple, and chants that seem to go on forever. 

But Kavik wanted to come. Yangchen told him she was headed to the Western Air Temple for a few days, and he’d packed his bags the same night.

“What?” He’d asked when she looked at him curiously, taking care to give her the most punchable expression he could manage, “You thought I wouldn’t come with you?”

Well, clearly he’s been made to feel welcomed. He untangles the string and starts on a new shape, blue eyes focused. The girls lean in, not wanting to miss a single loop. Yangchen remains off to the side, unable to contain her smile at the scene. 

A few more nuns take a pause from their tasks to join in. Though they stand near Yangchen, they don’t seem to take notice of her. 

At the temple, she’s just another airbender. Her orange robes and tattoos make her blend in, not stand out. It’s a rather nice change of pace, to not be the center of attention for once. She’s happy to let that task fall on Kavik’s shoulders for the time being. After all, he seems to be enjoying it. 

“He’s so sweet with the children,” One of the nearby nuns comments.

Kavik finishes with the new shape, presenting it to the gathered girls with an easy smile. “This figure is ‘the two boats’. See how the string forms the two men? Two men, two boats.”

“Another!” A younger girl trills from the crowd. She’s a tiny thing, clinging to the robes of another, taller child. The girls cheer, joining their sister in her request. Kavik looks only too happy to oblige them. 

“He’s good with that string - I bet he’d be good at weaving.” The same nun murmurs to her friend, “Perhaps we should try and get him on the loom while he’s here.”

“Yeah, I bet he’s good with his hands,” Her friend replies, giggling. “Look how fast he can move his fingers; I’d like to see those in action.”

The first nun elbows her, laughing. “Tsewang, you can’t just say that!”

That only makes Tsewang giggle more. “Like you’re any better! Don’t think I didn’t catch you checking out his backside during breakfast!”

Oh. Yangchen realizes with a sudden, uncomfortable clarity, They think that Kavik is attractive.

She can’t blame them, really. It’s one of the first things she noticed about him: that the thief caught red-handed in her room was almost unfairly good-looking. 

Still, she finds herself with a strong desire to move away until she can’t hear the rest of this conversation. She can’t blame them for thinking Kavik is attractive. But that doesn’t mean she wants to hear it said out loud. 

—

By the afternoon, she’s nearly forgotten about the whole event. There’s plenty of work to be done: the temple needs to be cleaned from top to bottom, food needs to be prepared, water needs to be hauled from the mountain spring to perfume it en masse. She may be the Avatar, but while she’s here she’s just Yangchen, and is expected to help out accordingly. 

Not that she minds, of course. She’s happy to help, happy to feel the ache in her arms from hours of hard work. Her heart will always long for the air, but for now she’s happy to feel grounded. 

She hasn’t seen much of Kavik since this morning. Abbess Dagmola put him to work in a different area of the temple, and even the most powerful being in the world is subject to the commands of her temple elder. 

Yangchen and a group of her sisters are cleaning up one of the lower floors of the temple, close enough to the canyon they can catch glimpses of others traveling through it, on their way to complete one chore or another. The floors have been swept, and now they’re up to their elbows in suds, polishing the stone until it shines. 

To pass the long hours, the nuns have been singing. Versions of prayers and chants put to a tune, old fairytale songs they remember from their childhood, even a randy sailor’s ditty one of them picked up from their time on the coast. It’s been distracting enough that Yangchen has been able to ignore the growing ache in her shoulders.

She rocks back onto her heels, wiping the sweat from her forehead and glancing around to observe their work. They’re nearly done, and then it will be on to shaking the dust from the many tapestries hung from the vaulted ceilings. 

A low whisper, punctuated by a muffled snicker, draws her attention from her sponge and bucket. A trio of nuns - slightly younger, judging by their short hair - stand perched at the edge of the floor, tittering between them like a flock of sparrowkeets. 

Yangchen heaves herself to her feet, wincing as her joints pop and groan in complaint. She wanders over to the gathering, trying to figure out just what could leave them so transfixed. One of the girls still has a dripping sponge in her hand, the water steadily soaking the hem of her robes. 

Then she peeks down into the canyon and everything becomes so much clearer.

The abbess must have sent Kavik to help with water-collecting duty. It’s the only explanation that makes sense for why he’s standing below them, knee-deep and shirtless in the mountain spring. His arms move in a smooth, unbroken circle as he bends the water into waiting buckets. Even from this distance, the motion enunciates every muscle in his back and shoulders. 

Warmth spreads through Yangchen’s stomach, face flushing hot. Judging from the expressions of the girls next to her, she’s not the only one feeling that way. The three of them are practically drooling. 

“I think I want him to just… lay on top of me…” One says aloud, eyes wide. The other two laugh and shove her, at least until another speaks up.

“I don’t have any money, but I’d pay to lick the sweat off his biceps.” 

The third girl, the one with the sponge, screws up her face in distaste. “You two are nasty.”

Her sisters glance at her, unimpressed that she isn’t taking part in their game. A moment later, the girl relents with a roll of her eyes.

“His hair is cute, though. I bet it’s really soft.” She squeezes the sponge to her chest, sighing dreamily. “And those eyes…”

For some reason, it’s that statement that brings the same odd feeling back to Yangchen’s chest. She clears her throat softly, watching in amusement as the girls whip around, eyes widening as they realize they’ve just been caught slacking by Avatar Yangchen herself.

“Something interesting to see, girls?”

They scatter like leaves on the wind, dashing back to their buckets with pink-tinged faces. Yangchen can’t help the chuckle that escapes her throat.

She risks a second glance at the spring below the temple. Buckets filled, Kavik has stopped bending. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead to clear the sweat. His other hand settles against his hip as his head tilts back, chest heaving from exertion. 

Yangchen heads back to her bucket before she can do something stupid. 

—

Dinner comes, and still the feeling remains. Yangchen ponders it as she eats her steamed buns, watching Kavik from across the table. 

As the Avatar and the Avatar’s companion, they both have seats of honor, allowed to eat with the temple elders. Kavik is the star of the conversation, entertaining everyone with the excited, intense way he tells his stories. 

She knows that Kavik is attractive. She doesn’t mind it being pointed out, really. She’s had him use it to their advantage plenty of times in the past, saving several missions just by sending him to flirt until they could sneak away. 

She doesn’t even mind the way the other nuns have been so open about their attraction and desire. It’s simply the way they do things at the temples; desire is a human emotion, nothing to be ashamed of.

Besides, she remembers her own adolescence in the Western Air Temple. Once, when she’d been about fifteen, she’d been granted a few weeks of respite after she mastered waterbending before she traveled to the Earth Kingdom to start the next portion of her training. During that time, a group of monks from the Southern Air Temple came to stay. They’d all been newly tattooed, eager to take on the world as masters.

The other girls her age had instantly declared themselves in love, which soon devolved into a competition of who could make the naughtiest joke about the young men without getting scolded by an abbess for distracting the class. Yangchen, who spent her free time writing fake letters to faker people, had neither the time nor energy to devote to desires of the heart and body. In fact, for many years she wasn’t entirely sure if she had desires of that kind. 

She did, however, manage to get in a joke about how one of the monks ‘handled his glider’ - more out of the wish to see the others laugh than for any real attraction to the man - that brought one of her sisters to tears in pure hysterics. 

So. She gets it. Really, she does. 

But that still doesn’t stop the strange feeling of… possessiveness that she’s been getting every time she spies someone eyeing Kavik up.

Even now, she can see the signs. All around are nuns surreptitiously sneaking peeks, whispering in each others’ ears ‘don’t make it obvious…’, pretending like they’re getting up for second helpings but going out of their way to pass by their table. 

A small part of her wants to just march over to Kavik’s seat and kiss him senseless, right here and right now. That’ll show them. She’s the one who gets to drag her fingers through his hair. She’s the one who gets to feel the way he moves on top of her. She’s the one who gets to experience all the other creative ways he can use his hands. 

Unfortunately, that would be bad etiquette. Not feeling too hungry any more, she settles for resting her head in her hands, listening to Kavik finish up his story between bites of food. He gets an uproarious laughter from a particularly good punchline, and his satisfied smile sends her heart fluttering. 

He catches her eye from across the table, looking to her as if to make sure she heard his clever joke. 

A different idea worms its way into Yangchen’s head. Perhaps if I show that he’s off-limits…

She smiles warmly in Kavik’s direction, crooking her finger at him in a subtle come-hither motion. He’s quick to oblige, standing up and circling the table to get to her seat.

“Do you want me to get you anything else to eat?” Clearly, he’s noticed her half-eaten plate. 

Yangchen leans in, bringing her lips closer to his ear. “No. But I would like you to come to my room tonight.”

Kavik jolts in surprise, blue eyes wide. She’s never made an advance on him in public like this. At least, not a real one.

She leans in again, warming her breath with firebending for good measure. “Midnight. Be there.”

His face turns a shade of red that Fire Nationals would be jealous of. All around, watchful eyes take in the scene: The Avatar, whispering something in her companion’s ear that’s turned him into a blushing fool, stumbling over both his words and his feet. 

Yangchen lets her smirk be seen throughout the room as Kavik makes his way back to his seat, eyes firmly affixed to the floor. The best plans always have a sprinkle of the truth.

The nuns of the Western Air Temple manage to find more interesting things to look at for the rest of dinner. 

—

Yangchen wakes up in shades, consciousness seeping into her bones with each exhale of breath. The pre-dawn light creeps through her window, casting the room in a soft, dreamlike haze. It’s so early that even the lemurs are still asleep. 

The heavy, comforting weight of Kavik’s arm is circling over her, keeping her tucked close to his chest. The bed in her quarters is only really meant for one person, but they’ve made it work. 

Under normal circumstances, she’d be rousing him awake at this time, ignoring his protesting grumbles to give him ample time to sneak back to his own lodgings. Emerging from the same room in the morning usually leads to more complications than they want to to deal with, so they do their best to avoid it. 

But this is her home. If there’s anywhere in the world that she can be seen with him by her side, really by her side, then it’s here. And, of course, there’s the fact that she did orchestrate this whole situation to specifically invite those kinds of speculations, in hopes that it might put a bit of a damper on all the ogling. 

Though she will admit, it’s a lot harder to feel threatened when the object of everyone’s desire in question just spent half the night on his knees for her. And is now tucked beside her in the bed, sleepy and warm and completely naked. 

More awake now, Yangchen lets her eyes roam over Kavik’s sleeping face. His dark hair is mussed and falling to his shoulders, and his lips stay slightly parted, letting each deep breath end with a tiny puff of air from his mouth. Her thumb comes to rest there, gently stroking across his plush lower lip. The slight touch is enough to hitch his breath, eyebrows furrowing as he begins to wake. 

Yangchen’s hand moves to his cheek, cupping his face in her palm. His eyelashes flutter, and then, slowly, his eyes begin to open, revealing those blue irises that steal her breath every time. 

“Hi there,” Kavik’s voice is low and groggy, with a slight rasp that makes Yangchen want to melt into a puddle of goo. 

He stretches, long and languid, yawning so widely that Yangchen can hear his jaw pop. His fingers tangle with those already on his cheek, bringing her hand to his mouth so he can begin to kiss his way up her arm, tracing the pattern of her tattoos. 

When his lips reach her elbow, he pulls away, landing his next kiss on her lips. “Is it time for me to leave?”

Yangchen returns his sleepy kiss with one of her own, pulling herself as close to him as she can manage. His arms wrap around her, just as eager for the closeness. “Not this morning, no.”

“Hm,” Kavik notes, voice still scratchy, “You’ve been acting clingy since yesterday. What’s going on?”

She nuzzles her face against his chest, letting the scent of him settle into her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He just hums, leaning forward to kiss a path along the shaved portion of her hairline. Yangchen sinks into the easy affection, pressing her nose into the hollow of his throat, starting up her own trail of gentle kisses. 

However, when she reaches the opposite side of his neck, something gives her pause. Kavik, feeling her freeze, pulls away to look at her.

“Why are you looking at me with that face?”

Yangchen isn’t sure whether she should start laughing or apologizing. Laughter quickly wins out, so much so that she has to slap her hand over her mouth to muffle her giggles. Kavik’s eyebrows climb up his forehead in confusion. “What? What’s happening?”

She wriggles from his embrace to go search for a mirror. Finding one stashed away in her bag, she returns it to the bed as Kavik sits up, sheets pooling in his lap. 

Her entire body shakes with laughter as she watches his expression go from confused to concerned to horrified in a matter of seconds, eyes nearly bulging out of his head. “Yangchen, what did you do?”

On one side of his neck, an absolutely massive bruise lays, nearly the size of her closed fist. It’s undoubtedly a result of their activities last night, and even more undoubtedly Yangchen’s fault. 

She’d only meant to leave a small mark, maybe two. The kind that could be easily healed or covered up. Admittedly, she’d been a bit excited to leave some kind of physical evidence that proved Kavik was well and truly spoken for.

Okay, so she went a bit overboard.

“I look like I lost a fight to an octopus-leech!”

Yangchen rolls her eyes at that. “Oh, come on, don’t be so dramatic.” She gestures to the nearby washbasin, and the pitcher full of water sitting next to it. “Think of it as an opportunity to get some healing practice in.”

Kavik laughs in disbelief. “How did you even make one that big?”

“I don’t remember you complaining so much when I was giving it to you.”

His face flushes a delightful shade of red at that. “You’re terrible.”

It’s too easy. “Not what you said last night.”

“Can you stop-”

“Not what you were telling me to do last night!”

Rather than fall further into her trap, Kavik shuts her up by tackling her into the bed, making her shriek with laughter when his hands dig into her sides to tickle her mercilessly. 

She lets him get away with it for a few more seconds before tapping out, smacking her hand on the back of his shoulder until he relents. He stays above her, both of their chests still heaving with laughter. 

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” 

She reaches up to touch the bruise, biting her lip to stifle her giggles. He doesn’t flinch when her fingers rub across it, so it must look a lot worse than it feels.

“I might have.”

Kavik rolls off to the side, settling his head back onto the pillow. “Why?”

“Did you notice everyone staring after you all day?” Yangchen brings her hand to his head, combing her fingers absent-mindedly through his loose hair. 

An amused grin appears on Kavik’s face. “Avatar Yangchen, were you jealous?”

She shakes her head, but can’t find the words to deny it. “I don’t feel like sharing you.”

Kavik’s eyes soften. “You don’t have to. You know that I’m all yours.”

She supposes she does, deep down. Still, his assurance feels like a beam of sun, light and warmth spreading over her heart. 

Cupping his cheek once more, Yangchen leans in to kiss him. Kavik wraps his arms around her, pulling her tight to his chest.

When they part again for air, she holds his gaze in her own, trying to memorize every shade of blue in his eyes. There’s so many things she wants to say, words bubbling in her throat, confusing half-sentences threatening to spill out. 

She settles for what’s easiest. “I’m all yours, too.”

Kavik just smiles, like he’s already known this forever. Of course he already knows. How could he not?

Avatar Yangchen belongs to the world before anything else. Yangchen will always be the Avatar; even in death her spirit will remain to continue the cycle. She holds the world’s biggest blessing and its heaviest burden. It will always have a claim over her. 

But right here, her world is just this: the blue of Kavik’s eyes, the safety of his arms, and the love that she can feel pouring out of his very being. 

Yangchen kisses him again, and knows he can feel the way it pours from her, too.

~~~~

(a/n: idk how but my silly jokey fic ended up becoming a soft confession fic. sometimes i surprise even myself lmao)

[depravitycentral]

Haikyuu Dick Headcannons Pt. 3

Ft. the Seijoh men (Tooru Oikawa, Hajime Iwaizumi, Issei Matsukawa, Takahiro Hanamaki, Kentarou Kyoutani, Yuutarou Kindaichi, Akira Kunimi)

Tw: implied yandere, implications of stalking, lots of talk about cum, masturbation, oral, praise, a sprinkle of degradation, PSA Oikawa cries during sex, very slight misogyny in Kunimi's, fem reader, MDNI

Tooru’s cock is, just like the rest of him, pretty. It’s pale, slender, rigidly straight with a perfectly shaped bulbous tip that always makes this lewd schmuck noise when he pulls out of you. As he gets closer to coming his tip gets a little pink, but it’s nothing compared to the flush sitting high on his cheeks, or the rosy red of his lips. He’s got a single vein that runs along his underside, so it doesn’t marr the smooth appearance but still gives you that extra bit of stimulation when he’s fucking you. It’s just an overall outstanding cock, and he knows it, too - he’s confident in his body in general, but this is particularly true in the context of his penis. He takes good care of himself, shaving and making sure to use expensive oils and lotions to minimize any ingrown hairs or razor burns. He even uses a special genital cologne, just to make sure he smells good too. (The scent is one he thinks you’d like - he’d brought you to a perfumery one time as a joke because he thought seeing you scrunch your nose at some of the smellier ones was entertaining, but he’d been keeping note of which ones you’d found agreeable when he shoved them at you.) He’s not terribly sensitive - particularly when you’re sucking him off, because while it feels amazing to have your lips wrapped around him, he’s gotten enough head through his life that he’s just jaded and too used to it to find it especially pleasurable. But being inside you? That’s a different story - he hasn’t actually fucked that many women, and as a result the moment he slips inside you for the first time he’s gasping, his eyes blowing wide and this strangled, vulnerable little noise coming from his throat. He still takes a while to come, but he’ll gasp and murmur praise in your ear the entire time he’s thrusting into you, because you just feel so good and warm and tight. 

He’s a shooter, and it makes this perfect, porn-worthy little arc as he throws his head back and moans your name. He doesn’t produce much in terms of volume, but it’s pretty runny, so it’ll often feel like there’s more there than there really is. His cum is very smooth; there’s no lumps or globs, and when he rubs it against your skin (because he likes seeing you covered in it, and he claims it’s good for your skin - rich in nutrients and makes you glow) it almost feels like a thin lotion. When he comes his whole body freezes up, every muscle going taut and tensing up as the pleasure overwhelms him. He’s still for a moment, but after the first initial wave he’s suddenly moving like a madman, his hips bobbing and thrusting wildly and unpredictably, desperate to get any last bit of pleasure they possibly can. He’s always clutching onto you, too, like he needs to ground himself or else he’ll get carried away by the pleasure. (This often leads to finger shaped bruises appearing on your hips and ass, sometimes even your breasts, and while he’s apologetic about it, he doesn’t feel bad.) He makes this high, airy sort of moan when he’s coming, and his eyes always shut tightly, his thin brows scrunching together and his mouth morphing into a sort of grimace. He looks like he’s in pain, but he’s not - it feels so, so very good, and he’s just trying to stop himself from moaning something stupid or crying. (He does cry sometimes, if the sex is particularly emotionally charged - the first time you tell him you love him gets him sobbing as he bends your knees up to your chin, plugging you full with his cock, and kissing you the whole time, whispering to you in a strained, broken moan I love you I love you I love you, fuck tell me you love me again-)

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you’re simply good for him, taking his cock and letting him do as he pleases with you. He likes when you’re receptive to his touches, and ideally you’d be spread out before him on the bed, your legs wrapped around his waist and your fingers alternating between running through his brown locks and scratching down his back when you’re getting close. He likes the way your cunt flutters around him, your walls rubbing him and massaging his length in a way that makes him breathless, and sometimes his arms even go a bit weak and he nearly falls down on top of you because you just feel too damn good. He likes when you thrust your hips in time with his, trying to get him in deeper and feel him to a much fuller extent. It makes him feel wanted, like he’s doing a good job of pleasuring you, and if you moan? Tooru’s gone, burying his face into your neck and moving from the languid, sensual pace he’d been fucking you at to a more purposeful, calculated one, aiming for that spot he knows you love with every snap of his hips. He especially likes it when you come on his cock - the way you clench down on him makes him light headed, and sometimes - when your orgasm is powerful enough - you squeeze him hard enough to force him out of your cunt, his cock still swollen and throbbing, your slick coating him while he watches you fall apart below him. He likes the way you spasm around him, and more often than not it lulls him into his own orgasm, spurting cum into you and gasping your name with his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple. He just really, really likes when you willingly pull him closer and encourage him to fuck you deeper; it’s a surefire way to get him breathless and crying out your name.

He’s solidly five and a half inches, with dark hairs framing his base and naval. It’s the perfect shape, with a slight curve upwards that hits you just right when he’s got you spread out on your back, bulbous tip ramming into that spot over and over again. It’s incredibly easy to arouse him - his cock’s got a mind of its own, and often there’s blood rushing south from the slightest things, like you licking your lips (he can’t not imagine how they’d look around his length) or mindlessly playing with your fingers (they’d look so small against him, running along his chest and gripping around his cock; he bets you couldn’t even touch your fingers when you grip him). He gets hard embarrassingly quickly, and stays hard, even if he desperately tries to get rid of it. This causes quite a few awkward moments when he’s around you, and he tries to wear baggier pants whenever there’s a chance you might be present - just because every encounter with you more often than not leads to him popping a boner at least twice. He’s moderately sensitive, and particularly likes when you give his tip and base attention at the same time. He likes when you suckle at the head and lap your tongue up and down his slit, all while your fingers massage and grope at the juncture between his shaft and his pelvis. It makes him shudder, eyebrows drawing together, and gets his hips bucking forward slightly. Especially if you rub at the spot right above where his balls and shaft meet - it makes him actually growl. 

His cum is thick and pretty bitter, landing on your tongue and leaving a residue like thick oil. The taste is hard to get out of your mouth, unfortunately, and when you tell Hajime this he’ll immediately feel guilty for how much he likes to finish down your throat. After that, every time you suck him off he’ll come on your face - he justifies it as being less invasive of your wishes, and because it seems to actually be good for your skin. (One time you’d had a nasty pimple, and after a spurt of his cum landed on it, the next morning it disappeared.) It’s okay, though, because his favorite place to come is actually on you, specifically on your pussy. He likes pulling out at the last minute and finishing himself off, watching as cum dribbles onto your pretty lips, making an absolute mess out of you and leaving you all sticky and warm. He’ll run his fingers through it sometimes, staring with this look of awe, intensely enough that you’ll get embarrassed. His ultimate, though, is when your spread your lips for him, exposing your quivering, swollen little hole, and he comes all over that - it’s dirty, taboo, and it makes his possessive urges towards you calm down a bit because now you’re marked as his, and anyone else can see the globs of his cum that are pressed up right against your most sensitive, intimate area. Of course, though, if you want him to come inside, he’ll never say no. He’s a gasper, his breath always getting caught when he’s fucking you. When he first shoves himself inside, he’s gasping lowly and biting his lip, trying to control himself and hold back the orgasm that’s already dangerously close. He’s not too terribly vocal for the most part, but when he gets close to coming he’s stuttering out your name, each syllable punctuated with a grunt and a gasp, until eventually he’s coming, his eyes blowing wide and a strained slur of your name falling from his lips. He stares the whole time, unwilling to look away, and it’s not until the oversensitivity overwhelms him that he lets the moment end.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s giving himself a pussy job, using - of course - you. In general, he’s utterly fascinated by your cunt - he’s always staring at it, and although he’s certainly no virgin, there’s something about your folds, specifically, that makes him salivate. He’s always trying to rut his cock against you, obsessed with the feeling of the most intimate part of you touching the most intimate part of him, and he wants nothing more than to have you spread out before him, your eyes blown wide and legs spread for him, pretty body on display for him as he fists his cock. He wants to run his tip through your folds, to collect all your slick and wetness at his head, watching the way it mixes with his own pre, leaving him a sticky, wet mess that shines and gleans in the light. He’ll grip himself at the base, harshly exhaling as he runs himself slowly, so damn slowly, up and up, letting himself dip deeper inside every few centimeters, just enough to tease both him and you. He’ll run himself all the up to your clit, muttering out a curse as his tip draws circles against your little nub, his slit feeling so sensitive and needy that it makes him crazy. When he’s doing this, he tends to murmur your name a lot, growls of how pretty you look, amazed comments of how you’re already so wet for him, and curses of how fucking tiny your little pussy are always slipping past his lips. He’s amazed by how he can possibly fit inside you - you look so small and tight, and his cock looks much too big in comparison, and the idea of stretching you out gets him gulping, his cock visibly throbbing. Eventually he’ll cave and shove himself in, apologizing through grunts that he just can’t hold himself back anymore, that he can’t keep teasing himself, that he needs to be inside you and feeling how warm and wet and perfect you are. He’ll come very quickly after doing this - it only takes a few minutes, and soon he’s groaning your name and spilling inside of you, spurts of hot, thick cum plugging you up while he breathes in your scent and basks in you.

He’s a tall man, and his cock reflects that - it’s long, easily six and a half inches, hanging so heavily between his legs that even when he’s fully hard, swollen and practically begging to sink itself inside of you, it’s only standing at about 120 degrees, too weighed down by it’s own size to fully stand up. He’s not especially thick, but he’s veiny, with the raised skin criss-crossing and feeling perfect when they rub up against your spongy, sensitive walls. He’s not too terribly sensitive, but he likes steady, consistent pleasure stimulation, like a constant pace when he’s fucking you, or when you bob your head steadily, tongue lapping at his underside with fervor. His tip is always a darker shade than the rest of his shaft, the color matching his balls, and Issei particularly likes when you pay attention to those two areas. He’s extremely sensitive when it comes to any sort of stimulation to his balls, and the moment that your fingers brush them or your tongue flicks at them, he’s groaning, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tells you to do that again, angel, fuck just like that. He likes when you suck on them, trying to fit as much of each one into your mouth as you can, and just the sight of your lips wrapped around one while you suck and thumb at his tip with your hand makes his head spin, his orgasm drawing closer and closer at an alarming rate. He has a thing for making you kneel below him, and he really likes to be the one standing over you - there’s something about the power dynamic that gets him harder than he’s ever been in his life, and when you look up at him all sultry and dirty like that, it takes everything in him to not force your lips apart and fuck your throat like an animal. (And sometimes, the urge is too strong - you’re left with a bruised throat and a hoarse voice, but everytime you talk to him like that it makes his expression darken, his cock growing hard once more and soon you’ll find yourself bent over the nearest surface, ass cheeks on display while he breaths hard and nudges his tip at your hole, determined to give you a bruised cunt to match your throat.)

His cum is thick too, but sometimes the consistency can be a little strange. It tends to glob up a bit, and because he dribbles when he comes, this can sometimes result in little spurts oozing out of his tip. The volume of cum is quite high, and because of this, when he comes inside you, you can really only describe it as him stuffing you full. (He’s seen your tummy swell before when he’s creampied you - you don’t really believe him, but he swears your stomach got bigger. And just the thought of that - that he stuffed you full enough to stretch that little pussy of yours out - is enough to get him growling and sucking dark hickeys into your neck, his possessiveness shooting through the roof.) He’s not especially vocal in bed, normally preferring to stay quiet and just listen to you, but as he gets closer his breathing starts getting really heavy, pants coming from his lips that sound more and more labored the closer his orgasm looms. Right before it hits, he’ll close his eyes and groan, the sound low and full of timber, making a shiver roll up your spine because it sounds so primal, like some sort of animal. And when he’s actually coming, he’ll groan again - except this time, it sounds vaguely like your name, the last syllable sounding upturned as the pleasure makes his mind scramble. His hips will slow down to nearly a stop when he’s coming, because he tends to get oversensitive really easily and he needs a moment to catch his breath. His eyes are closed the whole time, eyebrows scrunching together and looking a bit like it hurts, but the way his thighs tremble and the way his jaw goes slack tells you just how good you’ve made him feel. He prefers coming inside you, but as long as his cum gets inside of you somehow, whether that be in your cunt or down your throat, he doesn’t really mind. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s on his back, and you’re perched with your cunt over his face and your mouth over his cock. He’s a fan of the classic 69 position, because while it isn’t the most sexually satisfying option, there’s something that he finds really endearing about the idea of pleasuring each other equally. He loves the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and the combination of that plus getting to taste your cute little pussy leaves him light headed and aroused enough to throw you down onto the bed. He likes to get on his back and give you a look, hoping you’ll understand what he wants without him having to articulate it, but if you don’t seem to get the message he’ll grab you and manhandle you on top of him, a hand gently pushing your face down to rub against his cock while his tongue slips between your folds. He’ll admit that the position is a little distracting, because it can be hard to focus on pleasing you when you’re doing such a good job of pleasing him, but he’s normally able to stave off his orgasm long enough to get you falling apart on top of him. He’ll aim for your clit and will sometimes bring a finger up to gently rub and curl against your walls, anything to get you shaking and moaning his name. (Plus, if he gets you wet enough, your slick will actually drip down onto his face - he fucking loves this, because it feels like you’re showering him with evidence of how well he’s touching you, coating his face with your slick because you want him to know that what he’s doing is enough.) He likes the way you gasp and struggle to stay consistent around him when he’s touching you like this, and feeling your fingers tremble as they stroke him and squeeze at his balls makes him sigh and buck his hips slightly. If he gets close, however, and feels like he can’t hold off any longer, his free hand will come down and hold your head in place while he thrusts up into your mouth, balls slapping against your nose as he fucks your face to his heart’s content. He just likes the intimacy of this position, and you’ll find yourself in it very often - especially towards the beginning of your ‘relationship’.

He’s just barely over five inches, but he’s pretty thick. It’s girthy, and when you first see it, the first thing you think of is how the hell he’s going to fit something that wide inside of you. It’s always a pink rosy color, even when he’s not hard, and although he’s embarrassed at first, he actually really likes having domestic moments with you where you see his cock both erect and flaccid - it makes him feel closer to you. (Plus, it normally only takes mere moments for it to go from soft to hard when you’re involved, which is what tends to happen nine times out of ten.) He doesn’t do a very good job of grooming himself, and takes pretty much no time to actually shave or trim or anything of the sort. It’s a bit of a mess down there, but he showers often so it all smells good and is clean. He doesn’t want you to shave or trim either - he firmly believes sex should be natural, and he wants to see you as you are, not as you present yourself. He’s decently sensitive, and while he’s got a bit of experience, he can get overwhelmed pretty easily when he’s inside you. He twitches a lot, especially once he’s settled between your walls - you can feel him moving inside you, bobbing and spasming as he gets closer to his orgasm, and sometimes his whole body shakes in time with them. It’s nice, actually, because it makes it easy to identify what kind of dirty talk gets to him - the moment you let any sort of praise slip past your tongue, he’s twitching and throbbing inside of you, acting as encouragement to get you saying more, to tell him that he feels good and that he’s gonna make me come ‘Hiro, please please please! (Begging normally gets him throbbing, too.)

He shoots, and there’s quite a bit of force behind the stream - it feels like the perfect amount of pressure in a shower, and he’ll always force himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch the way it spurts out of him and lands in ropes on your pretty body. His cum actually tastes surprisingly sweet, given how poor his diet is. It’s on the saltier side, but it’s nothing too outrageous. (You told him that once and he made some joke about how it would make the perfect replacement for that salt shaker that always seems to run out. You didn’t find the joke particularly funny, but the thought lingers in his mind for a while, and suddenly he can’t stop imagining the way you’d look actually eating his cum, not even in a sexual context. The thought makes him flush and have to clear his throat, but he can’t deny the allure.) This is great news for you, because Takahiro loves to come in your mouth. There’s something so dirty about seeing his cum dripping from the corners of your lips, down your chin, your pretty pink tongue coming out to lick it all up - and oh, if you hum or moan at the taste? He’ll melt, a few droplets of whatever remaining cum his body can scrounge up landing on your face without any warning. He’s a moaner, and while it embarrasses him, his voice always gets high when he gets close to coming, sounding less like moaning and more like whining and whimpering. He’ll always try to bury his face in whatever surface is closest by, though he tends to prefer your breasts or the small of your back, whichever is accessible. The moment he’s actually coming, though, he’ll  always pull back to watch, because even being a fully grown adult man, he’s still in awe of how your body just seems to affect his, almost like you’re pulling the cum out of him with how hard he orgasms. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you ride him. He’s not necessarily lazy in bed, but he likes to watch you and let you do most of the work until he needs to step in. He’ll lay back with his head on some pillows and let you straddle him, your cute tummy and pretty tits on display as you slowly slide down onto him. He likes when you grind a bit on him first, your folds rubbing and massaging against his length, and if you watch his tip you’ll see a copious amount of precum oozing out, showcasing his steadily growing desperation to get inside you. Once you slip him past your tight entrance and he bottoms out inside you, he’ll sigh and pinch at your hips, his voice cocky as he tells you to get on with it baby, wanna feel you bouncing on me like a good little slut. It’s uncharacteristic, with how most of his tendencies in the bedroom tend to air on the more submissive side, but the moment you’re actually moving? Well, all traces of cockiness and dominance are gone - he’s gripping onto your thighs for dear life, eyes fixated on the way your breasts bounce and jiggle, maybe even smacking against your ribcage if they’re big enough. He likes the way he’s able to get deeper inside you like this, the penetration going further and making you cry out his name because you just feel so damn full. He’ll stare and watch you, his cheeks bright red, unable to focus on anything except your body and the way his orgasm is drawing nearer and nearer, and eventually he’ll get close enough that he needs to take control. He’ll sit up and wrap his arms around your waist, face pressed against your chest and maybe even a nipple in his mouth as he moves you up and down like some glorified sex doll. He’ll control your body fully, his own hips snapping up to meet yours in a crazed chase of his orgasm, until finally it hits, and he’s moaning your name and his balls are pulsing against your ass as warm cum floods you. He likes the vulnerability of this position, the way he can be touching so much of you at once, and because he gets to see all of you, even the parts of you that you try to hide in other positions. (Like that cute stomach of yours or the fat of your thighs.) You just look sexy, and the way you pulse and clench down onto him like a fucking vice when you reach your own high only spurs him on, desperation for round two and three and four hitting him like a truck.

He’s a little under five inches, but he’s mean with it. He doesn’t have much experience, but he’s nursed a small porn addiction for most of his life, and although he knows porn isn’t realistic, he can’t help but fuck into you with reckless abandon every time he’s got you naked in front of him. He’s not too terribly thick, but he’s veiny, to the point where he almost looks like those veiny dildos you can get online. His tip is extremely sensitive - swiping your thumb across his slit or squeezing at the head makes him splutter, his cheeks turning bright red as his hips jerk forward. It’s easy to turn him on, because he’s really bad at hiding when he’s aroused. Seeing you in anything form fitting will make him feel hot and have him alternating between averting his eyes and staring at every inch of you, but the real nail in the coffin for him is when you touch him in falsely innocent ways. Place a palm to his chest and smile at him and he’s immediately hard, or run your hand over his hair and he’s practically panting, unable to stop imagining the way you’d grip at his hair and beg him for more when he’s got his face between your legs. He gets hard easily, but he’s normally able to make it go away pretty easily too, but his face stays this rich red color and he gets more skittish around you than normal, so you’ll be able to tell ninety percent of the time. He’s actually pretty meticulous about upkeep - he’s not clean shaven but the hair is very short, perfectly trimmed so that you have unrestricted access to everything below his belt. He does this both because it makes him feel cleaner, and also because he wants to be as enticing to you as possible so that you’ll be more inclined to touch him. He’d gotten drunk one night in his early twenties and decreed that he’d be getting his dick pierced, and a buddy had gotten it on video, and he wouldn’t let his pride be wounded, so now he’s got a Prince Albert piercing on his tip. It hurt like hell, but he really likes the way it feels inside you - it makes him more sensitive, he thinks, and you always seem to squirm when you feel the cold metal, the extra stimulation making you moan and clench even harder around him. 

His cum is thick and there’s a lot of it. It doesn’t taste great, and the first time you tasted it you couldn’t help but grimace slightly. Kentarou noticed, and while he didn’t say anything about it, he’s been trying to alter his diet to include more foods he’s read help sweeten the taste of cum. He prefers to finish on your body rather than in you, but he’ll never not finish inside you if that’s what you want. Really, if you ask him to finish anywhere specific, he’ll do it in a heartbeat, excited that you want it. He just likes the way you look with it smeared across your skin - again, that porn addiction has left him with a bit of an objectification kink, and while he doesn’t view you as simply a toy for him to fuck, there’s something that quells his possessiveness towards you when he’s covering you with his seed. He tries to avoid coming in your mouth though, just because he doesn’t want to see you grimace like that again. When he’s fucking you, he doesn’t usually say much, but he isn’t super quiet - he grunts a lot, always sounding a little bit like he’s in pain, and he keeps his eyes tightly closed for much of it. He’ll mutter your name under his breath, too, but it’s quiet enough that unless his mouth is close to your ear you won’t be able to distinguish what he’s saying. But as he gets closer to coming, those grunts turn more into growls, and right as he’s on the edge, he’s literally growling your name, along with slurred fuck’s and yeah’s and too damn tight’s. He’s not too expressive, but if his orgasm is particularly powerful he’ll end up sinking his teeth into the skin of your shoulder - not enough to break the skin or hurt, but enough to leave a mark when he pulls away, and enough to muffle the moan that bubbles up in the back of his throat. His whole body tremors when he’s coming, everything from his fingertips to his toes trembling and shaking slightly, the force of his orgasm nearly blowing him away. It takes him a long time to actually finish coming once it starts, too - he comes so much that it just never seems to end, him emptying into you for easily twenty seconds before the last few drops finally come out. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you take your time and just absolutely worship his cock. He’s never been embarrassed of his body or anything, but he likes the idea of being soft with you, and while he’s just a bit too awkward to take the time and worship your body, he likes when you do it to him. (It’s not that he doesn’t want to worship yours - he does, absolutely, more than you could ever understand. But putting himself into that position where you’re watching his every move and judging him, letting him explore and pleasure you and do whatever he wants with you makes him nervous, the pressure settling on his shoulders to do well making him chicken out at the last second. But when it’s you worshiping him, he can just sit back and watch, letting you do your magic until he’s eventually gasping your name and getting cum all over himself as you fist him and press kisses against his thighs.) It feels like such an intimate moment, and it helps convince him that you actually like him, that you’re actually returning the love he’s so frantically forcing onto you. He wants you to keep eye contact the whole time, looking up at him from your place on your knees, his own body seated in a chair with his legs spread so you have easier access. He wants you to kiss every inch of him, your soft lips pressing against his thigh, balls, cock, navel, everything you can reach. He wants you to pump slowly, telling him how warm he feels in your hands, how he’s so big and makes you feel so good, the compliments flowing off your tongue like sugar and making his face turn bright red. He wants you to suckle on his tip and lick along his slit, teasing him with not quite enough pressure, telling him how good it feels when he brushes against that certain spot inside you that makes you see stars. He wants you to squeeze and touch his balls, telling him how these always make you feel so full, they fill me up so well, Kentarou, I love it when you come in me. He just wants you to praise him and touch him all softly and slowly, showing him that you really love him. Give him hope that his one-sided feelings might be more reciprocated than he seems to think.

It’s solidly five inches, and curves very slightly to the left. He’s confident enough with it, but Yuutarou finds himself wishing he was just a bit longer, just a bit thicker, just a bit more. He spends a lot of time looking at himself in the mirror, and especially once his feelings for you form, he’s always idly wondering what you’d think of him. It’s a pale color, and when he gets hard it turns a gradient of pink down to his tip, where it’s flushed and always swollen within seconds of blood rushing south. He keeps himself clean shaven because he doesn’t want you to be grossed out when he eventually has you in front of him, naked and yearning for his touch. He wants everything to be clean and attractive and perfect, because the first time he gets to touch you and fuck you, everything has to go perfectly. He’s decently sensitive, and he especially likes it when you pay attention to his base. Gripping him there and idly squeezing while you talk to him will make him breathless and light headed, his voice strained and tight when you ask him if he’s wanting to fuck me? Do you want that, Yuutarou? Do you want to make me a mess on your cock? You’re so dirty when you talk to him like that, but it drives him crazy - and when you grip him tighter and tighter and tighter, it only furthers the feeling. He likes it, too, because your hand almost acts as a sort of cock ring, barring him from accidentally coming much too early - something that’s happened often when he was still left to his own devices with only the thought of you and his pillow to work with. 

His cum is watery and there’s not a huge amount of it. He comes pretty easily, all things considered, but he has a decently short recovery time, and if the worst case scenario occurs (he comes before you), he’s immediately getting onto his stomach and diving between your legs, tongue eagerly working at your clit and his fingers slipping past your swollen folds to curl and rub at you until you’re moaning and clutching onto the pillow under your head. He’ll let himself calm down, and within five minutes he’s normally able to get hard again, and while this time he’ll likely be shooting a blank, he will keep fucking you until you come for him - and this time he’ll have his thumb working at your sensitive little clit the whole time, his pride out the window because he needs you to come, dammit. When he comes he makes this weird little half-shout half-groan, the sound loud and a little bit jarring. He tries to keep quiet for the most part during sex, because no matter how many times you try to tell him that you like his noises, he’s too embarrassed to freely let them out. Besides, he’d rather hear you anyways. But when he’s getting close, he does tend to start blabbering, his voice slurred and the words coming out so quickly that they’re hard to understand. He’s trying to get every thought out in those last few seconds before he comes, because he has all these compliments and sweet nothings that come to mind when he’s fucking you, but he’s too engrossed in the moment and nervous to actually say them, so he waits until the last moment and all you can hear is y’so tight ‘n good, ‘m gonna come in you, fuck let me come, y’so pretty when you’re drippin’ with me and fuck fuck fuck, here it comes take it take it take it-! He writhes when he comes, unable to stay still, his muscles flexing and relaxing over and over again, leaving him to shake on top of you and then promptly collapse onto you. He’s exhausted after he comes, but he’s still attentive to your needs, and even if he’s on the edge of passing out, he’ll make sure to get his fingers stuffed inside you and his lips on your nipples, absolutely anything to guarantee you’re feeling good. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you take control. He’s always a little doubtful of his own abilities, nervous that he’ll do something that you don’t like, even though you aren’t the first girl he’s slept with. He’s just a bit paranoid that he’ll make a mistake and eliminate any form of attraction you feel for him, and so he likes it best when you take the wheel, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him, leaning down to kiss him and suck hickies into his neck. He likes when you grind on him, your hips moving against his in circles, your very thin panties (that he’d picked out, with a red face, the last time he’d visited a lingerie shop, having bought a few sets for you after learning your panty and bra size) rubbing up against his boxers, the navy material already stained a darker blue with a copious amount of precum. He wants you to move his hands for him, your grinding never stopping as you situate his large palms against your breasts (already bare, your - his - t-shirt haven’t been discarded across the room), squeezing over his hands to encourage him. He wants you to slowly sink down on him, before setting up a brutal pace, bouncing on top of him with reckless abandon while you smile down at him and hold eye contact. He wants you to move his hands to grope at your ass, while you reach behind you to play with his balls, squeezing lightly and feeling the way he tenses up and warbles your name. He wants you to suddenly switch your positioning, so that you’re facing away from him, your ass exposed to his prying eyes while you roll your hips again, the new angle making access to squeezing his thighs easier. He just wants you to manhandle him, really, because while he may be well over six feet tall and is finishing up his collegiate studies, he’s nothing more than putty in your hands, eager to do anything and everything you want.

He’s roughly five inches, with a moderate girth. Overall, he’s thoroughly average - tufts of brown, curly hair sit at his base and a vein or two decorates his shaft, which slims out a bit as it extends, ending in a round, mushroom-shaped tip that’s always covered by pretty, pink foreskin. He produces a lot of precum, to the point where once you get your hands on him, you’ll be surprised to feel that it’s almost like he’s already slicked himself up with lube. There’s just so much of it - but that’s because once Akira gets hard, he stays hard. No matter how hard he tries to distract himself or will away his erection, it takes at least fifteen minutes for it to go away. Even after he comes, he stays hard for a while - he gets oversensitive very easily, so he’ll try to swat your hand away if you reach for it when it’s still coming down after his release, but secretly he hopes you’ll reach for it again because he’ll begrudgingly let it happen the second time, content and pleased that you want to keep touching him. He stays hard, but actually takes him quite a bit to get hard - even with you, the woman he finds so sexually arousing and desirable that it makes him sick sometimes, he has to have a good mix of stimulation and thoughts to get him ready to go. Generally, if you want to get his cock swelling up and turning a deep pink color, kiss his neck and palm over his crotch, whispering his name in the most sultry voice you can manage, maybe even flicking even lightly biting his earlobe as you whisper into it. He’s not too sensitive, and because of this he tends to last a long time in bed, to the point where if he’s really concentrated and you’re in the right mood, he’ll get you to orgasm at least three times before he gets close. He doesn’t groom himself all that much, figuring that if you really have a problem with it you’ll let him know, and while he keeps everything clean and sanitary, sometimes you end up with a bit of hair in your mouth when you’re sucking him off. 

He doesn’t produce a huge amount of cum, but it’s decent tasting, enough so that you genuinely don’t mind swallowing it. This is good news, because Akira really, really likes when you give him head. His favorite place to come is definitely your mouth, and the feeling of your lips and tongue against him are often the quickest way to get him to orgasm. He’s a fan of pushing himself as deeply into your mouth as he can and then releasing, so that all of it goes directly down your throat, because he likes the idea of his cum being in you, even more than just in your cunt. He’s also satisfied with pulling back and coming all over your face, because while it isn’t quite as satisfying as finishing in your mouth, there’s still something lewd and dirty about it, especially if you open your mouth and let your tongue loll out. He’s pretty quiet in bed, mostly just breathing hard or muttering commands under his breath - they’re never too harsh, just things like keep going or say that again. But when he comes, he takes this long, harsh inhale - it’s not quite a gasp, but it sounds too uneven and heavy to be a normal breath. He’s not one to moan too much naturally, but he tries to push down any sort of noise if possible because he doesn’t want to turn you off in case you don’t like it - even if you try to reassure him, he doesn’t really believe you, and he’ll still do the long-inhale-thing rather than let out the little whimper he really needs to. His whole body jerks when he comes, and this normally ends up lodging him even deeper into whatever hole he’s buried in, which adds extra stimulation to his already sensitive cock, making him hiss and grit his teeth. His face gets red as he gets close, too, and it’s a telltale sign that he’s feeling good when his cheeks start blooming pink, all the way down to his neck and over his collarbones. He gets sweaty, too, exertion and holding back any sounds taking a lot of effort, and often his bangs will get stuck to his forehead.

Akira’s favorite way for you to touch him is when you take his cock into your mouth. There’s something about the power dynamic that gets to him, because while he doesn’t inherently view himself as any better than you (he may not show it, but he worships the ground you walk on, if all the stalking and tedious collecting of your information are anything to consider), something just feels right when you’re suckling on him like that, your pretty eyes sparkling up at him through your lashes and tears pricking at your lash line every time you take him just a bit too far down your throat. There’s something endearing about the way that you take him so well, relaxing your throat and bobbing your head over and over, and he especially loves it when you get messy. He likes your spit to be everywhere, dripping down his shaft and onto his balls, dribbling down your chin, just getting everything wet and sticky. He likes the sight of you pulling back and panting hard, a thin strand of saliva and precum connecting his tip to your lip, the sight making him gulp and clutch onto the corner of the chair he’s seated in so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He likes the way your lips are so soft against him, how your tongue is wet and warm and so very dexterous, licking around his tip and dipping in against his slit. He just likes the way you give him so much attention when you’re using your mouth; it makes him feel special and pleased that all your time and effort is going into him, to please him and make him feel good. And if you were to reach down between your legs, your fingers playing with your clit while you bob your head and use your other hand to lightly grope at his balls? Well, hopefully you take getting your throat fucked as well as you do bobbing your head, because the mere sight will have him losing control and needing to fuck something, and your pretty little face is the nearest thing. 

[brass-tacked]

Looked to the sky (and said Please)

2.3K words, Buck x Eddie

Tommy’s gone. He barely even said goodbye. They were back on a sidewalk. This time they were supposed to be meeting for lunch. Tommy was 13 minutes late.

Buck had done his best not to panic as those minutes ticked by. He tried not to constantly check his watch. He tried not to think of worse case scenarios. He felt a gut punch breath push out of him when Tommy finally climbed out of an Uber. Buck was so relieved that he didn’t even notice when the Uber didn’t pull away. That Tommy didn’t even bother to close the door. He just leaned forward a little and proceeded to tear chunks of out Buck’s heart.

“This isn’t going to work, Buck. I need something else. I need more than you can give me.” His voice sounded clinical. His fingers were gripping the top of the car door.

Buck felt that breath of relief suck back into him. This time the oxygen was gone and Buck felt like he’d been breathing carbon monoxide. It felt thin and made his head spin. Before he could recover enough to move, to speak, to do anything, Tommy was gone.

…..

He didn’t remember what happened next. His mind a whirlpool of not enough, not enough, not enough.

Not enough not enough notenoughnot enoughnotenoughnotenough

Never enough.

Then Eddie was there. When he looked at his phone later he found that some part of his brain had been working enough to send Eddie a pin to his location. Apparently that was all the information Eddie had needed to drop everything and come to him. To show up like a guardian angel and sweep Buck into his truck.

They don’t talk. At least Buck doesn’t remember them talking. He does remember Eddie glancing over at him every time they came to a stop or there was a break in traffic long enough to safely take his eyes off the road. At one point Eddie reached over and put his hand on Buck’s knee, gave a little squeeze and then left it there. Buck remembers the heat of the it. The grounding it gave him. The oxygen coming back into his lungs.

…..

Not enoughnot enoughnotenoughnotenough

He’s in Eddie’s kitchen. Sitting in a chair and looking at all of the ingredients for sandwiches spread out in front of him. The lettuce looks like it’s started to wilt and the avocado is brown. Eddie is standing by the sink. Hands gripping the counter. Chris isn’t there.

Of course Chris isn’t there. He’s in Texas. Buck couldn’t get him to stay. He wasn’t able to do the one thing Eddie asked of him.

Not enough not enough not enoughneverenoughneverenoughnever

Buck must make a noise or do something because Eddie is now right there, kneeling next to him, and placing a hand on his shoulder. His thumb finding a home in that spot right between Buck’s neck and collarbone making small sweeping motions. Sometimes Buck thinks that Eddie’s thumb was specially made to fit perfectly in that spot. Or vis versa, maybe he was made to fit Eddie.

“What happened, Buck? Is it Maddie? Is she okay?” Eddie’s voice is soft. Almost a whisper. It’s like he’s scared Buck’s going to break. Eddie’s other hand comes up and sweeps across Buck’s cheek. That’s when Buck realizes that he’s crying.

“He’s gone.” That’s all Buck can get out. Even those words feel like they rip apart his throat on the way up.

“Oh, Buck. I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here if you want to talk about it.” Of course Eddie figures it out from just two words. Of course he does.

“There’s not much to tell. I just… I wasn’t enough.”

Maybe if Buck didn’t know Eddie so well he wouldn’t have seen the flash of anger in his eyes. Wouldn’t have noticed the clench of his jaw and the tightening of all the muscles in his body. They way the gentle sweep of Eddie’s thumb across his collarbone stuttered for a second and pressed hard against the bone before resuming its back and forth motion. But Buck did know Eddie.

Neverenoughneverenough

“Is that what he said? Buck, you have to know that’s not true.”

“Of course it’s true, Eds. I’ve never been enough. Not to anyone. I just, I ju- I can’t do anything right. That’s why they leave.” Buck’s voice cracks and stumbles. He can taste the salt from his tears. They taste so much like blood. All he can taste is Eddie’s blood mixed with the oil from the truck and the hot asphalt. The panic. The fear. He came so close to losing something so important, but at least that day he was enough. At least he thought he was. He’d saved Eddie. He’d saved his family. But in the end it still hadn’t been enough. “Of course it’s true. If it wasn’t, he’d still be here. He wouldn’t be… he’d be here.”

“If Tommy doesn’t want to be here? If he wasn’t smart enough to see how great you are? To know how lucky he was to have you? Then fuck him. He wasn’t enough for you.”

Buck can feel his eyes go a little crazy. Eddie’s words sending a new wave of wild emotions crashing through him. “Tommy? That’s not. Tommy doesn’t matter. I still, I still failed. I lost him.”

Eddie take a deep breath. His eyes searching Buck’s face and his other hand coming to rest on Buck’s other shoulder. Gripping him tight and holding him in place. “You gotta help me out here. I think we’ve got our wires crossed a little. If we’re not talking about Tommy, then who are we talking about?”

“I mean, I guess we are kinda talking about Tommy. He did leave me and say I’m not enough.” Buck lets out of small sigh before moving his eyes away from Eddie’s and standing up. Eddie’s hands fall away with the motion. Buck feels so cold. His mouth still tastes like iron. He can feel Eddie’s confusion as he steps away to get a glass of water.

Once he turns back around he still can’t look at his friend. His eyes instead stare through the walls like he has x-ray vision and can see straight into Chris’s room. Where he knows the bed is neatly made. The controller for his video game console is placed neatly on the bed stand on top of the novel his was reading. His placed marked with a bookmark Buck bought him at the aquarium two years ago. The lampshade has a light layer of dust on it. So does the dresser and the bed. Buck thinks he should clean it soon. Just in case.

Notenoughneverenoughnotenoughneverenough

A broken sound brings Buck’s focus back to the kitchen. It’s halfway been a whimper and gasp. It sounds a little like Eddie. Buck can’t quite bring himself to look at his friend.

“Buck no”

“I couldn’t do it, Eds. You asked me for one thing and I wasn’t enough. Chris didn’t stay. I couldn’t get him to stay.” Buck is looking at the glass gripped in both hands. Still full of water because he couldn’t bring himself to drink it. He didn’t deserve to drink he. He deserved to taste the blood forever. For as long as his family was broken.

“No.” Eddie’s voice is like steel. Like a command that Buck wanted nothing more than to follow, but he can’t. He doesn’t deserve to. “That’s not on you. That’s not your fault.”

Buck can’t respond. He doesn’t have any more words. He just shakes his head while staring down at the glass. It’s a Superman glass. His fingers run rubbing against the raised lines of the emblem.

“I never should have asked you to go in there. I was being selfish and I was scared. It was never on you to get him to stay.” Eddie’s in front of him again. He’s so close that Buck can feel the pulse of his body, the warmth of his breath ruffling against his hair. It’s so hard not to lean into that warmth.

“Buck, can you look at me?”

Buck wants to. He really, really wants to. He wants to look into those beautiful brown eyes and find forgiveness and all the things that Eddie has always given him, even when he didn’t deserve them.

“Please, just look at me.” Eddie’s finger hooks under his chin. He doesn’t push. Doesn’t force Buck to looks up, but just keeps it there.

It feels like a magnet as Buck shifts. His head coming up and his eyes seeking Eddie’s. It feels necessary and cosmic and ineffable.

“Buck all I really needed that night was for you to be there. I needed you next to me. My world felt like it was crumbling down and I did that to myself. I am the reason Chris left. You didn’t fail at anything. You being here, having my back? That was more than enough. You kept my world from breaking to pieces. Yes, Chris is in Texas, but I know he will come back. And you? You are more than I could ever ask for. More than I could even dream of hoping for. You’re everything.”

Buck feels warmth start to seep back into him. He’s still crying, just a little bit, but now the tears taste like saltwater again. He tries to fight a small smile from escaping because he’s still not sure he deserves to feel any happiness, but he can feel his lips start to turn up anyway. The smile grows bigger when Eddie’s thumb moves up and starts gently sweeping across his lips.

It feels like too much and not enough and like he’s about to explode as he stares into Eddie’s eyes. As he shivers from the sensation ghosting over his lips. He takes a deep, shaky breath and they’re close enough that their shoulders knock together and their noses brushing against each other.

The kiss feels so natural. Eddie’s lips soft and gentle. His thumb sliding away from Buck’s mouth and moving to cradle the back of Buck’s head. The feeling of Eddie’s fingers burrowing into his hair almost makes his legs give out. He reaches for Eddie to steady himself, wrapping his arms around the other man’s back. The kiss feels like an inferno. Consuming him. But it also feels like a mountain lake, cool and refreshing. It feels like the warmth of the sun in the early days of summer. It feels like being welcomed home.

He lets out a little laugh as the kiss ends. He can feel joy and hope and so much love bubbling through him. He wants nothing more than to keep on kissing Eddie forever, but he has to clear one thing up first. Even though it’s serious, he’s so happy that he can’t keep the smile off his face or the laugh out of his voice. “You know it’s not all your fault right? You never asked Kim to show up and pretend to be Shannon. Please tell me you know how crazy she was to do that?”

Eddie laughs too. Just a little one. He keeps his hands buried in Buck’s hair and gently knocks their foreheads together. “Yeah, I worked that much out with Frank. But that’s not important. You’re what’s important.”

“Did you work that one out with Frank too?” Buck’s smiling as his hands start tracing imaginary patterns on Eddie’s back. Savoring the moment and a little unable to believe it is happening.

“Yes, actually. Frank and I talk about you a lot. About how, besides Christopher, you’re the most important person in my life. About visualizing what happiness looks like for me and it had your face. About how to handle being in love with you while you were in a relationship with another man.” Eddie’s voice is so soft and vulnerable on that last sentence that it makes Buck’s heart squeeze.

Buck tilts his head back to swallow back the emotion that threatening to overwhelm him. The movement dragging Eddie’s nose down his cheek sending another shiver through his body and making his hands clench against Eddie’s back before Eddie drops his head to rest on Buck’s shoulder. He has to clear his throat a few times while gathering his thoughts before he can respond.

“The thing about Tommy, well, he was really just a placeholder because I didn’t think I could have what I really wanted.” Eddie made a wounded sound and Buck shushed him while tightening his grip on the other man’s back, pulling them impossibly closer. “I didn’t realize at first or I never would have started anything with him. Then Chris left and that hurt. I wanted to be here with you. I never wanted to be away from you. It made me realize some things too. I was going to tell him today at lunch that I couldn’t see him anymore. I wasn’t being fair to him. Not when I’m so in love with someone else. He must have figured it out for himself though because he broke up with me on the street before I could even say hello. I can’t blame him though. I know what it feels like to be the placeholder and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“I need you to know that you’re not a placeholder to me and I never want you to feel like one again.” Eddie says before turning his head and places a soft kiss on the side of Buck’s neck. “And Buck, I am the someone you’re in love with, right?”

Buck can tell that Eddie’s going for teasing, but there’s the faintest tremor in his voice that gives away his nerves. It makes Buck’s heart clench once more. He never wants Eddie to have doubts. “Yes, Eddie, I love you so damn much.”

[muffinsin]

Sweet Divorce, dark Obsession, Love to come

Donna Beneviento x Daniela Dimitrescu

Donna sees her, and she knows; she must have her. She must claim what is hers.

Partly NSFW, Stalking, Manipulation, Top Donna, Bottom Daniela, Obsession, twisted intentions and falling in love quickly, a long post

Could probably be considered a part in a Stalker Donna x Dimitrescu series. Bela’s part can be found: here

This is the prologue to my Smoke and Mirrors story! More info found at my pinned :)

Masterlists

Donna Beneviento is said to be many things.

A crafter of beautiful dolls, tiny clothing, and tools. A scientist and doctor, interested in exploring every little substance and every unique thing in detail. A botanist, collecting and using dozens of flowers and their pollen to her advantage. Now, those are all noble titles.

She also is a puppeteer, however, controlling and manipulating, shaping and guiding all to fit into the plot she has designed for them. She is an observer, quiet and appearing meek, and it helps her blend in with the shadows perfectly.

And she sees no reason not to blend in with them, to observe from afar, to study, to watch. She never allows an opportunity to pass by, but rarely recognizes opportunities as worth her time and effort.

This, is about to change, when a single, special woman catches her dark eye.

A regular day, a regular visit, nothing out of the ordinary, all is as usual. This is what Donna believed that day was going to be. After all, why wouldn’t she? After all, every previous visit has been just that. Arriving at the castle, a greeting by Alcina, an offering of tea and biscuits before Donna could get to work.

Never anything else. Never any disruptions, never anything out of the ordinary.

That was, until today, when it changes, when Donna sits in the room provided to her as usual, the cracked open window allowing fresh, warm air to fill the room.

Only this time, it’s different.

This time, she hears a cry. A cry so desperate, so pure, so helpless, so passionate. More follow, and more.

Her curiosity rises, she must know where this sound is originating from.

Donna rises from her desk, the thick, white dress from her lap momentarily forgotten. Alcina would have to show patience, there are more pressing matters at hand as of just now.

“What are you doing? This isn’t any of our business!”, Angie scolds, but Donna can’t find it within her to care. She wants to find out about this noise. She needs to discover its origin.

She stands slowly, her fingers grasping and opening the window fully in a fluid motion. Immediately, the sounds become a little louder. It’s a woman’s cry. A lover’s cry.

When looking below, she at last finds the source of such dainty cries. A woman indeed, of auburn hair, sunken to her knees at the castle’s gardens. She looks almost angelic, surrounded by flowers and white. The seamstress can’t make out the woman’s features, nor her face.

“Can we get back to our work now? I want to get home!”, Angie complains, but the brunette pays her no mind. No, returning to the manor, or working, is not an option now.

Her eyes wander to the white halo surrounding the creature- a large, expensive dress. She recognizes it, the puffy sleeves, the long skirt, the thin waist, the pale colour. Only is it now dirtied by the mud and dirt of the ground beneath and dark red smears of blood.

The woman keeps weeping. It’s a small part of Donna that feels pity for her, for whatever must have happened. Yet a larger, much larger part of her finds itself fascinated and drawn in by the sound.

She did not think she’d find such a pure and raw sound at Castle Dimitrescu.

No, all work has to wait. She needs to investigate.

Adjusting the vail over her head again, she quickly makes for the way down to the gardens. Passing staff pays her little attention, and her equally so to them. Walking in shadows, as she always does.

She finds the entrance to the gardens fast, despite just rarely spending time at the castle to fix one of the countess’s dresses in exchange for rare and precious fabrics and wood.

Only this time she is not after such things.

She walks outside, the sun hitting her eye even through the mourning garb. But she can’t bring herself to pay any mind to it this time, when she would normally grow annoyed.

Instead, her dark eye is set entirely on the beautiful woman on the ground in the middle of the field. Clutching a single rose to her, red, she weeps to herself.

She doesn’t even seem to notice her, until Donna kneels down right in front of her, her knees hovering over the dirty ground.

“L-Lady Beneviento”, the woman speaks. Her voice is soft, her lips even more so. Donna finds herself staring at the woman in front of her. Up this close, she can make out her features properly.

Her auburn hair, slightly sticky and messy with blood, some sticking to her wet cheeks, the rest ascending down her back and shoulders.

Strong, golden eyes, wide and beautifully teary, almost gleaming in the sunlight. Donna finds herself lost in them easily.

A button nose, soft as the rest of the woman, a little red and wet from her endless crying.

Her plump lips. Unpainted, but smeared with blood and tears. Her cheeks are equally wet and sticky with tried and wet tears, some remaining makeup is smeared against them. Donna admires the shape of them, the beautiful tear streaks they created.

What catches her eye though is the black rose tattooed on the woman’s forehead. This beautiful creature is no mere maid, no staff member, no prisoner escaped from the infamous Dimitrescu dungeon, but one of the countess’s daughters herself.

Donna searches her mind for an answer to her own questions. Daniela, was it not? She never officially met the three sisters, only ever heard Alcina speak so very fondly of them.

Ah, but she remembers the stories about Daniela, the youngest of the three. How often she would fall in love and get her precious little heart broken. It seems, this is a similar situation.

Daniela watches silently, her teary eyes wide, her bottom lip quivering a little.

“La-Lady Beneviento”, she greets again, her voice shaky and cracking from the tears that still run down her soft and round cheeks.

Never before has she seen such a marvellous creature.

Donna understands all in an instant.

She must know more of her.

She must get to know her.

She must have her.

Her hand reaches out, icy cold, strong fingers coming up to grasp Daniela’s chin. The woman doesn’t struggle against her hold in the slightest, instead merely keeps on whimpering a little.

Donna eyes the flower clutched in her hand, her mind burning with envy. Surely, this must be for someone else. Surely, someone else has hurt this beautiful creature.

Possessively, almost, she extends her other arm and snatches the flower from the auburn haired woman. Daniela gasps sweetly at the quick movement and for a moment Donna hears the flies she is said to be made of buzz almost aggressively before they calm.

The rose is tossed aside, leaving the younger woman’s hand slightly bloodied, but empty.

Instead, Donna plucks one of the pink roses from the ground.

Daniela’s cries have quieted down a little, her attention turned to the Lord in front of her. Never has she met a Lord of the village, save for Alcina of course.

She feels intimidated and a fluttery feeling in her stomach all the same. Despite having her heart broken mere hours ago, her lover, her fiancée, murdered by her sister after an unsuccessful attempt of escape, she already feels her heart sing again.

Perhaps, this is a sign? Daniela resists the urge to shake her head. No, Mother keeps telling her, she falls too fast. No, Bela keeps reminding her, she’s naive, she’s young, she’s gullible. She keeps falling for the wrong people. No, for Cassandra insists Daniela is too clouded by the bubble of false promises and expectations from fantasy books to ever hold a proper relationship.

And still, she feels a flutter at her chest, being this close to the Lord. She feels lightheaded almost, like a foolish, young maid again, this close to the older woman, with her fingers grasping her chin and keeping her eyes set on her.

Only, she wishes she could see the face behind the veil. She wonders how the woman looks below it, what features she is hiding.

Despite her tears, her face burns bright pink and warm when the silent woman raises the rose and plucks each thorn from it. She then raises it to Daniela’s face, and she shivers at the unfamiliar, but welcomed touch when the flower is set behind her ear.

She hears the doll maker’s heart beat quietly beneath her chest, a wild contrast to her own, fast heartbeat.

Donna smirks underneath the veil. Daniela is proving very cooperative. She watches golden eyes flicker across her, searching for her face, over and over again. She might just grant the poor thing a look sometime in the future.

As her hand retracts, the brunette’s fingers brush lightly against the Dimitrescu’s hair. Soft, again, and warm from the sun hitting it for the past hour or so.

Donna smiles again. Yes, she must have her.

After all, who would make a better doll for her than Daniela Dimitrescu?

In the days to come, Donna finds herself at the castle increasingly more often.

While sometimes she lets Alcina know of this, at other times she merely sticks to herself, unnoticed, invisible almost. After all, she rarely finds herself in the company of the Lady of the house, nor her daughters, who she has found out spend their days out hunting.

All, except little Daniela, who is usually away for half a day before retreating to the library; a routine Donna has been able to see and figure out within the first week.

She watches from afar most of the time.

When hunting, Donna likes to create beautiful illusions of the thickest, quickest, healthiest animals. A perfect prey. A perfect trap. Of course, Daniela adapts to this eagerly, changing her hunting grounds and gradually pushing more into Donna’s territory, while rarely staying within Castle grounds.

During the time her doll is out, hunting whatever catches her eye, Donna reaches out using her pollen.

She fills her love’s mind with her scent and the thoughts of her, until the poor thing is too distracted and flustered to even hit her prey with a simple attack of her sickle.

This usually means Daniela is left panting and blushing wildly, oblivious as to why her head is full of the thought of the Lord and her scent is strong as though she had smelled it a thousand times over.

Sometimes, Donna gets lucky. Sometimes, her pollen has an almost aphrodisiac-like effect on her doll.

Then, she watches hungrily from afar as Daniela neglects whatever creature she was chasing in order to lean back against a tree, hike up her dress and shove her fingers in her underwear.

Such as she is doing today, with her head thrown back and quiet moans and whimpers passing soft lips.

Donna almost feels it, almost smells it. She considers helping her sweet doll out already as she is helplessly and clumsily rutting against her own fingers. But still, no matter how clumsy and careful Daniela is, her sharp nails take away a lot of the fun and barely help with the brimming heat and wetness between her thighs.

Ah, but Donna could to better. Being the seamstress that she is, she is more than skilled enough with her fingers to bring her sweet redhead to ecstasy over and over again.

She begins to crave Daniela’s moans. Her pollen reaches out a little more, just enough for her to slip inside the woman’s mind unnoticed.

She groans lowly under her breath. She almost feels the other woman’s need for pleasure and release. Instead of tending to it just yet, she opts for adding more to it.

Daniela whines and moans as images of the Lord flicker across her mind. Has she been thinking of her? She can’t recall, and doesn’t care either. She must have, if it’s in her mind, after all.

More and more, day after day after day, Donna fills more and more of her doll’s mind with images of her and her scent.

Daniela is completely used to it. She no longer picks up when Donna is near, too accustomed to the smell being around her at all times. And with her doll prepared, Donna is ready to make her moves.

She moves silently through the castle, her heart pounding a little. In her hand she grasps a basket, in the other her little doll companion’s hand. Every little fibre in her body calls to her, beckons her closer, urges her to keep going.

“What are we doing here?”, Angie asks. Was her voice not only in the doll maker’s mind, she would have hushed her companion.

With her friend in such a state, it’s almost as if the doll represents the small, sane part left of them. Alas, Donna no longer cares for sanity. She knows exactly what she wants and craves. What she needs to have.

“Don’t you think this is going too far? Let’s go home! They’ll catch us!”, Angie pleads. Yet, when the brunette woman only keeps walking, she follows behind quietly.

She stops only when she finds what she was looking for; a door, dark brown, with a small D engraved in gold in the middle of it.

Cautiously, she opens it. She’s completely quiet, but her breath quickens and an excited, almost sinister smile crosses her lips for a mere moment as she steps into the warm room.

Inside, she finds Daniela, sleeping peacefully. The beautiful creature is tucked beneath heavy, dark red sheets and surrounded by more pillows than Donna ever imagined someone had.

She trails her fingertips across the satin covers of the blanket. Daniela doesn’t even stir.

If she notices the new presence and scent in her room, she doesn’t give it much thought. After all, Donna is always with her. And there is no telling when she truly is next to her, and when she merely occupies her mind.

With each passing day Donna’s obsession grows, and with each Daniela’s love and dependance does, too.

Every little maid that caught her attention in this time was released and lost in the woods, where their pollen induced state led to their ultimate demise. Of course, Daniela doesn’t quite know this. Of course, even Alcina does not understand this little secret of Donna’s.

Of course, though, she is always there, always around, to comfort her doll when she cries so sweetly after losing another. And with every time the thought of Donna and the feel of warm caresses in her mind leave Daniela more and more smitten. Despite rarely having seen her since their first encounter, she feels already incredibly drawn to the older woman.

Donna smiles as the back of her fingers brush over her beautiful doll’s soft cheeks. She sleeps peacefully, content, perhaps even unaware of the actions and presences around her.

She moves from the bed, then. Crossing to her closet, she begins picking bits and pieces of clothing. Some dresses, some underwear, some stockings that aren’t in top shape anymore.

Instead, she gently takes the folded clothings from the basket and replaces the missing ones. Summer dresses are replaced by ones crafted by Donna herself, some representing house Beneviento subtly in their design and threads, some less subtly, such as pieces which have the very crest snitched into the waist piece.

She puts the taken clothing into her basket, ignoring the growing excitement in her chest. Only a little more, before she could claim her..

She steps closer to the bed again, her fingertips gliding across Daniela’s exposed shoulder before pulling something from the basket yet again. A flower, this time, a dark purple.

“Do as I say”, she commands as she hands the flower to her doll companion. Although sighing, somewhat implying this can’t possibly be okay, Angie submits to the command and crushes the large petals directly under the sleeping woman’s bed.

Donna watches, enhanced, eagerly, as the pollen seems to rise. She holds her hand out in front of her, her eye closing.

She sees nothingness at first, then an image clears. Daniela, in her grace, skipping across a field and swarming in the sun with her sisters close behind her. A beautiful dream.

She sneaks into it, a woman standing in the fields. Daniela finds her in an instant, a wide smile on her lips. Yet, she gasps when suddenly clouds begin covering the sun and both her older sisters fade away. Still, her eyes are trained only on the dollmaker.

Donna moves as though in a blink, suddenly appearing behind the auburn haired woman. Her hands slide across her thighs, up to her hips. Daniela moans softly, even as her clothing begins to feel too tight on her.

She allows the woman to undress her, smooth, silky skin revealed more and more.

Donna groans. She yearns to reach out, to truly feel her soon-to-be lover.

Daniela moans softly as her clothing falls to the floor, the high grass tickling at her hips. She almost feels high, unaware of the sweet bliss coming only in form of a dream. She doesn’t question the many hands, some ghostly, two Donna’s, on her.

She feels them at her hips, her thighs. She moans breathily when they cup her large breasts and squeeze, two ghostly fingers pulling at her sensitive nipples.

Another pair slides between her legs, across her smooth thighs. Donna’s real hands, she notes dreamily.

With her head thrown back, Daniela sighs softly, then, a loud moan is pulled from her when the fingers push inside of her. She feels them, deep in, curling and pushing. Inside, across her clit, the palm of her lover’s hand smearing wetness all over her southern parts.

Donna feels her body tighten and her chest and pussy throb with want. She watches Daniela squirm on the bed, trapped, not unwillingly even, in her beautiful dream, constructed by her lover. She squirms and moans softly in her sleep. She watches as her hips raise and rock gently against the covers.

Daniela’s breathing turns faster, more desperate. The wind blows lightly against her face, somewhat helping her cool down even as her body grows hotter and hotter.

She whimpers and moans, slurry phrases and pleads passing soft lips the closer she gets. She feels it, the bubbly, light feeling, the rising pleasure.

She feels just how close she is. And then;

Donna pulls from the connection, a self satisfied smile passing from her lips as the woman whispers on the bed and a single, desperate tear runs down her cheek.

And as such, desperation and obsession, dependency and yearning rises and multiplies within Daniela for a final time…

Donna smirks confidently underneath her vail as she walks down the castle halls. She is unseen by most, bowed to by others. She could not care less about them, though.

She strides down the hall, then, upon arriving at the door with the golden D engraved on it, she opens it slowly.

As expected, Daniela’s eyes immediately flicker to her.

“Lady Beneviento”, she whispers, greets.

Donna smirks a little under the veil. She feels the power of her pollen all around the room. It has engulfed her little doll completely.

“A formal greeting to a Lord of the village starts with a bow”, she states, using the newly created bond to speak the command right within the other woman’s mind, rather than using her lips to convey the words.

Immediately, Daniela bends a little, her foot stepping forwards in a polite and almost regal bow.

“Lower”

Again, her darling Daniela follows her command in an instant. She bows lower, her head raised enough for golden eyes to meet Donna’s veiled face.

She whimpers lowly when a cool hand comes down to her chin. Donna cups her lower face gently, at first, then two fingers trap Daniela’s chin between them firmly.

She squirms in place, her entire body and all her flies buzzing, with electricity almost. She feels ready for the taking, ready to be reaped by her one and only love. She knows, it must be Lady Beneviento.

“Watch, my little doll”, Donna husks seductively. Daniela watches eagerly, her breath catching in her throat when one of Donna’s hands comes up and the veil is pulled up and left discarded on the small dresser by the door.

She feels almost lightheaded, both from the woman’s low and deep voice and the features of her face. A mix of harsh and soft curves, a dark eye, the other disfigured and scarred by the cadou.

She feels herself be pulled in closer already. This time, despite her shock, she needs to command or reminder to speak.

“You’re magnificent”, Daniela coos breathlessly. She received a sly smirk in return, then gasps upon feeling the same ghostly hands come up behind her.

Her face burns as she feels them grasp the hem of her nightdress and pull it up, revealing dark panties that leave little to imagination.

“I had a feeling you would show up…”, Daniela whispers shyly, her golden eyes, despite her shyness, set right on her lover:

“Strip, and kneel, little doll”, comes the Lord’s next command.

Again, Daniela does so eager and fast. She slides the panties down her smooth legs and steps out of them, then fully takes off the dress. She feels the ghostly pair of hands slide across her skin, groping here and there and making her jump.

She feels them tear apart her stockings as she takes off her bra and steps out of both the moment they fall to the floor around her.

Then, she kneels. She feels the pair of hands grip at her wrists and pull them behind her back, until the woman looks perfectly submissive for the older woman.

With her arms behind her back, Daniela can only stare and breathe heavily as Donna’s dress is lifted and comes off in a fluid, slow motion. Creamy, pale skin is revealed, a black garter belt and equally black panties, and a matching bra that comes off within seconds as well.

The younger woman’s mouth waters as she watches the panties fall to the floor. Then, suddenly, Donna takes a hold of her jaw and pulls her head forwards. She whimpers, her heartbeat quickening.

“Are you going to serve me, doll?”

Daniela shivers at the voice in her head, and nods fast.

Spoken like a question, it is more of a demand, really. A demand Daniela is all too happy to fulfill.

“Yes, my love!”, she insists.

In an instant, she feels the ghostly fingers wrap tighter around her wrists and shove her forwards. Her hair is gripped by her lover’s hand, just tight enough for her to be held in place. Her nose brushes up against Donna’s clit and her raw scent floods her senses.

Immediately, she gets to work. She moans against the other woman’s skin as she laps at every bit of wetness of Donna’s soaked pussy.

She feels, in return, how soft ghostly fingers slide against her slit and dip in a little. Never enough to push into her, just barely enough to give her a taste of pleasure.

An unspoken promise of a reward.

She moves her lips and tongue eagerly, Donna’s quiet moans fuelling her. The sweet taste of her arousal almost feeds into her efforts and the heat between her legs, as well as the slick wetness gathering there.

“Keep going, suck on my clit, my darling”

Daniela moans at the now familiar voice in her head, as well as the gentle pull of her hair to have her just where Donna wants her.

She wraps her lips around her pussy and folds and slides her tongue against and across her lover’s clit repeatedly, each time growing hungrier and more desperate.

She’s panting and rolling her hips down and against the pair of hands between her legs sliding against her slit and groping her ass and thighs shamelessly.

And Donna? She’s experiencing what can only be described as sweet ecstasy. Her eye is lidded when she glances down at what is hers and hers alone, the beautiful woman squirming and moaning on her knees, flushed face hidden between her thighs, bright pink pussy lips teased as she sucks on Donna’s dusty pink ones.

To some extend, she feels an extra set of thrills from taking the woman like this, from snatching her right underneath her family’s nose. No, Daniela may be born into house Dimitrescu, but she is of house Beneviento, now, Donna will see to it.

Her fingers tighten their grip on the younger woman’s auburn hair as she feels herself be brought closer to her orgasm.

A few more seconds, more hushed moans and groans, gasps and breathless whimpers even, and Daniela feels the woman cum just when her tongue pushes into her.

She is pulled up mere moments later, the hand sliding down and gripping at her neck guiding her to her tiptoes for Donna’s lips to come against her own.

“Good Girl”

Daniela moans at the low voice whispering in her mind. The groping touches only add to her desperation and want.

She is guided backwards, her arms and hands so flush against her back one could think they are tied or still held there by the phantom hands.

Donna smirks at this as she sits down on the soft, red mattress. Naturally, her sweet Daniela follows.

She allows the woman’s hands and phantom hands to guide her, her lips parted and allowing gentle moans and heavy breaths to pass by as she is set on Donna’s smooth, strong thigh.

She leans forwards eagerly, her lips hungrily pushing against soft unpainted ones. Both women moan gently. This close, both feel each other’s skin and smell one another’s scent. Daniela feels utterly consumed by the doll maker’s scent and the pollen around her, luring her closer and closer and creating more wetness between her thighs. Donna, in turn, feels more and more obsessed the more time she spends in such proximity to her doll. She craves her, can never be too close to her.

“Spread your legs. I wish to feel you”, she whispers against the younger woman’s ear. Again, her good girl obeys without hesitation.

She spreads her thighs and hovers just above Donna’s.

“Hha- A-Ah!”, she mewls upon feeling two fingers snake between her pussy lips and push inside. No virgin, certainly, but nonetheless the length of Donna’s fingers surprises the redhead.

She arches her back and grips her lover’s shoulders tightly, her lips parting wider and her moans and gasps increasing in volume when the fingers are thrust in and out of her at their full length.

“My lo-love!”, she cries out. She commands her arms to move and her hands to reach down at the fast pace, yet it’s as if they are glued to her back. She moans and rocks her hips, helpless to the overwhelming pleasure bestowed upon her.

Never has she had a maid this deep in her, this skilled with her fingers. Never have her nails been trimmed enough for her to curl them in herself or push them in properly without squeaking at the pain and damage they caused to her insides.

Donna, though? Yes. Lady Beneviento has no such problems. She easily finds and targets the most sensitive spots inside of her doll, with her G Spot being the one focused on the most.

Poor Daniela is a moaning, rocking, squirming and shivering mess. Her back arched and head thrown back, she can only rock her hips against the hand and thigh offered to her to attempt to regain some control.

“My beautiful doll”

“What a sight for sore eyes you are”

“You feel utterly soft on your insides, my little Daniela”

“At last, I am to claim you”

Daniela shrieks as the fingers of one ghostly hand shove between her lips. She feels her own wetness smear against the inside of her mouth and the back of her throat, then shrieks as another forces her flush against her lover.

Suddenly, the pollen surrounding her begins to burn. Daniela moans and cries at both the pleasure and pain given and forced upon her. She feels, slowly, how the burning pollen digs into the soft skin of her back, a brand made forever in the shape of the Beneviento house sigil.

Her first orgasm comes fast, even before the branding is completed. Tears of pleasure, happiness, pain and overstimulation mix with those caused by her constant gagging on the fingers down her throat, and each reflects in Donna’s dark eye.

The woman watches hungrily as Daniela’s wet pussy swallows a third finger and takes it inside, her body growing weaker and weaker, shivering and trembling on her lap. And yet, she keeps begging for more, endures the pain on her backside with the reminder that it shall mark her as Donna’s.

And such, Daniela comes again, her body trembling and caught by phantom hands and real ones alike.

Her body lays weak against her lover and her back stings and burns even as the pollen have let up. Yet, a large smile is set on her lips.

“I love you”, she coos dreamily. Donna’s smile widens. She nearly lets on about the darkness within her. Of course, her naive little Daniela believes to be head over heels in love. After all; her Mother kept telling her, she falls too fast. And her protective eldest sister, Bela, kept reminding her sister, she’s naive, she’s young, she’s gullible. She keeps falling for the wrong people. And of course, Cassandra, who would always insist Daniela is too clouded by the bubble of false promises and expectations from fantasy books to ever hold a proper relationship.

Now, Donna will ensure all this is only reserved for her.

With a smile on her lips, she kisses Daniela’s soft lips again, engulfing both of them in shadows.

[drgngutz]

P. - Coast - Luffy x f!soulmate!reader

Prologue

I've decided to cross post this from wattpad, since the teaser I posted seemed to be received so well. If you like this, and would rather get updates right away, I'll post the link to wattpad on my master list :)

I'll be starting a tag list for people who want to be notified for updates and don't use wattpad.

Hope u enjoy, <33

The bustling city created noise all around me. Over the years it's become the background for my rambling thoughts. The rapid and angry beeping of cars, which were always dodging the just-as-angry pedestrians, was as common of an occurrence as the construction going on across from the orphanage's scrawny apartment building. There was rarely ever a time of silence in the big city. The endless annoyance tended to grate on my nerves, and the days were passing slower and slower. A constantly parentless child in her last weeks of high school, there was barely enough money to make ends meet, much less move somewhere quieter. The side job at the convenience store wasn't working out, and having to care for the other kids in the orphanage with such a small amount was getting me nowhere. 

Sighing, I stopped my trudging footsteps and turned my head towards the underside of my arm.

'Hey, I caught you! -M.D.L'

It made me feel worse every time I saw it; the fancy script that tattooed my forearm, close to my wrist and scribed in black ink. The perfectly unmarred scrawls used to make my stomach flip in excitement when I looked at it, but now it was just a constant reminder of what I was lacking. My own soulmate; just another person that didn't seem to want me. 

Most people find their soulmates early in life, since we're gifted the markings of a soulmate at birth. The marks are hereditary depending on what kind you have, ranging from first words spoken (like my own), to seeing a glowing red string attached to their fingers; it all depends on what kind you inherited from your family. People can discover their soulmates as early as ten, though it's globally averaged they meet each other around sixteen to seventeen years old. 

I was seventeen now, and in my final year of high school, so everyday that passed without hearing those words, the more nervous I got. It was possible that I would never meet them with a soulmate mark that didn't give me any information. I couldn't track them, find a picture of them, or communicate with them. Some people on this overpopulated earth are unlucky enough to never meet their soulmate; even unluckier people are born without a mark to match with someone else's. I was more scared of the first option.

No matter how many times I posted online, searched the match websites, or attended special 'soulmate conventions' where thousands gathered in order to meet new people, I still hadn't found mine. Most of the students in my classes had found theirs, and more than ever I felt the peer pressure of needing to find mine. The few friends I had whispered behind my back, some were pitiful, some just flat-out criticizing me for not finding them yet; not that they really counted as friends anymore. To make matters worse, the women who ran the orphanage often reminded me that it was only a matter of time before I would have to leave and make a home of my own. There were years wasted with foster families who I hoped would give me a way out spilled down the drain, only to never stay for too long. Then, I was back at square one. 

The soonest way I could leave this place would be with the support from my soulmate. 

Leaning against the railing of a bridge that I crossed to-and-from school, I stared up at the gloomy sky, feeling the beginnings of rain build up into a thin layer of moisture on my skin. The cars sped by, whirring with life as they switched between lanes or sped past others who were going too slow for their liking. 

If I could speed past this point of my life like those cars, past the dullness of each passing day, past the hopelessness of my future; I would take that chance in a heartbeat. I could open a new chapter of my life, try to find some sense of self, maybe get the chance to find my passions. I loved the kids at the orphanage, them being my only 'family' left in this world, but it wasn't the same when compared to the idea of finding the one person you belong with. Someone who wants you for all that you are. I've been looking for that my whole life.

A low creak sounded, then a snap! Soon, I didn't have the support of the railing behind me.

Blinded by my brief desperation, I didn't readily take notice that I was starting to fall backwards; Stunned silent as I watched the metal rail of the bridge swing in disconnection above me. Small pieces of the metal followed my tracks as I began the plummet towards the rushing waters of the river below.

Stomach in my throat, I couldn't scream even if I wanted to. Falling silently to my death, heart racing, the delayed fear kicking in when I heard less of the rumbling cars and more of the rushing water beneath me. I finally started to understand that I was going to die.

My hair whipped around, a gust of wind blowing it into my eyes. I closed them instinctively, gritting my teeth with all of my muscles tensed so tight that they began to cramp.

I couldn't breath, couldn't see, couldn't feel.

The river below me flew and clashed with a ferocity; like the gnashing teeth of a beast.

It all went numb.

And then, I couldn't hear anything.

...

Slowly, I could register a difference. The soft sound of rushing wind around me. It was a lot warmer, coupled with the lack of the river noise from before. It was almost... gentle.

"Am I... dead?" I hadn't realized the words were said out loud until I felt my lips move, barely hearing my whispers over the wind, which was billowing harshly and picking up speed.

Opening my eyes I was met with a bright blue sky, the sun shining through the fluffy white clouds that were splattered across the scene. A small bird crossed the sky in front of me, blocking the rays of the sun for just a moment before it was out of sight again.

I blinked, wondering if I really was dead, before gazing at the (h/c) hairs that were flowing around my view.

Dazed, I took a glance below me.

It looked like a very large body of water; an ocean, to be exact.

What the hell was an ocean doing in the city?

Speaking of the city, there was none. It was vast, open space. Not a single landmass in sight. So, I was falling towards the ocean. An ocean that just sort of appeared, and not the river that I was previously about to drown in.

It took another moment before realizing the repeating danger; I was falling. Falling towards my death a second time. And at this height, a height much higher than when I had fallen off of the bridge, all of my bones would break and be pushed into my body. If the current didn't kill me, then the internal bleeding definitely would.

Tears bubbled up in my eyes. When my brain and body caught up to each other, I realized how close I had gotten to the water, and I was screaming shrilly before I could stop myself.

Terror ripped through me. After just having to accept the idea of dying in my fall off of the bridge, I was now flung into another gruesome death; but this time my brain had enough time to understand what was going on. There was no surviving this. I was either in hell, or stuck in my last moments; experiencing the fear of my own death on repeat. My vision was blurry as I choked on a sob.

The water was getting close... close, closer still.

Did I really have to go through this again? Was there no way I could survive this?

The instinctual, fearful process started again when I got within two-hundred feet of the water. I could hear the gentle lapping of the waves, now.

My teeth and eyes clenched shut, muscles tensing again to brace for the pain, heart racing for the incoming impact.

This was it. I was going to die. Again.

When the waves became the only thing that I could hear anymore, I felt a sudden pressure around my abdomen.

I was yanked to the side with a whiplash that was near breakneck speed. Grabbing at the squishy material around my waist for some sort of support, I opened my eyes right before I whacked into something solid. With a cry, we were both sent sprawling to the ground.

A low groan vibrated the object that I was now laying on, warm and firm, before I repeated the same sound; body aching from the fearful tension and then the rough collision. The surface beneath us rocked side to side, and I had to place a hand on the wooden boards beneath us to steady my trembling body before I fell over. Now on my knees between his thighs, I heard a shuffling in front of me.

Shaking my head, I opened my teary eyes to find the face of a boy right in front of mine. When our gazes met, he broke out into an enormous, adorable smile.

"Hey, I caught you!"

Chapter One

[bluenoo42]

How I do my job and accommodate my disabilities.

So, I have the best job in the world. I'm a fossil tour guide and basically walk around the beach with people talking incessantly about my special interest and they are actually interested and pay (extremely good) money for it. I'm living the dream guys!

As awesome as my job is, there are a few challenges due to my disabilities. Luckily, I have found ways to accommodate myself so both me and the customers all have a great time. I've decided to split this list up by disability rather than by different aspects of the job so if you have one of the disabilities that I mention you can just look at the bit that is relavent to you to see if any of the things that are helpful to me are helpful to you. If you have any other suggestions of different things to try, please put it in the comments!

Autism:

To be honest, the palaeontology field is full of autistic people so I really don't stand out. When people book a fossil tour, they expect the tour guide to be a little quirky, so I do have a bit of leeway for seeming socially awkward without too much judgement.

I don't really pick up the hint that someone isn't having fun any more, so when the weather is bad I make sure to tell people at the beginning of the tour "I know it's really (insert unpleasant weather situation here) today, so if at any time this stops being fun for you, we can always head back early, just please directly tell me 'I'm not having fun any more, can we go?' because I'm not great at picking up hints." If the family are from the UK, I sometimes make a joke about them not being my hostages, but I avoid this with foreign families because that kind of humour doesn't always land well with other cultures.

I have visual materials to help keep my talks on track and to better explain the points that I'm trying to make. I also keep my initial talk pretty similar every time so I don't have to think of the words off the top of my head every time.

I make sure I give clear factual answers to questions that give both the technical terms and a simplification to all age groups e.g."That is a fossil echinoid which is the scientific name for a sea urchin." This avoids having to guess the person's level of prior knowledge and avoids me being overly technical or coming across patronising.

I try to limit my work to around 3 hours per day to avoid getting overstimulated.

Deafness:

I always make sure to tell people about my deafness right at the start of the tour and tell them how to accommodate me. I try to make it lighthearted I'll say it like "Just so you know I'm Deaf which means I can't hear well. If I look like I'm ignoring you, I'm not, I just can't hear you. Please tap me or wave at me to get my attention and make sure to look at me when you're speaking so I can understand you." Some people just ignore the instructions, but at least then they know what they're supposed to be doing, and it normally works out okay.

I have a cochlear implant which helps me a lot, but is vulnerable to wet and windy weather. I use EarGear covers on my processor to block out the wind noise and to protect it from moisture. It works pretty well, but isn't perfect.

I probably would benefit from an interpreter, however my work schedule is pretty flexible and often there are last minute bookings, also there aren't many interpreters near where I live so it would be virtually impossible to find one, so I make do without and it seems to be working okay for me.

Balance and Mobility (HSD and balance disorder):

Luckily my hypermobility is pretty mild so I'm able to weight bear fully on both legs and climb stairs etc.

If I'm going to be walking/standing for over 1 hour, I use knee supports to help prevent knee pain. I use the ones that are thin and elasticated tubes (kind of like a sock) rather than the velcro ones because they look more sleek and I find them more comfortable, also I only need fairly light support. I recommend using the lightest support that is reasonable for you to avoid weakening your joints. If you're not sure, speak to a professional.

I use an ergonomic backpack with padded straps and try and keep my kit as light as possible. I always make sure to carry it over both shoulders to avoid an uneven load on my body. I used to just use any old backpack and cram it full of examples of every single fossil you could ever find. Don't do that. You're not on SAS who dares wins.

Trekking poles. (In my opinion) The most underrated mobility/balance aid out there. Does it make me look like I think I'm scaling Everest? Yes. Does that fact make me feel ridiculous? Yes. Am I very grateful for them when I lose my footing on a pebble bank? Also yes. Most of the time I use one pole just for balance so I can keep a hand free, but I do have two, just in case. It also allows me to point at things without bending down so much which helps with my vertigo issues. If you are considering whether you could benefit from a mobility aid for your balance, especially if you're often on uneven surfaces, I would urge you to try trekking poles. You can use two at a time for extra support, they're gentler on your wrists than a crutch or cane and they come with the option of rubber or metal tips depending on the surface you're on.

Here is my relatively comprehensive guide to how I do my awesome job. If you have any questions or you would like to suggest something that you've found helpful, please leave a comment.

[pinkkop]

This week's episode is brought to you by my birthday!!! That's right, I'm posting this on my actual birthday 🎉

QL Recap for Week 13

The 24th of March to the 30th of March

🇹🇭 The Boy Next World Special Episode

Episode 1 of 1 || Watching on: Vimeo

This was such a good special episode! I loved this new dynamic of other world Cir and Phu and would kill to have just a little bit more of them but alas. I think it worked well to have Wim and Jin be an established couple in this world and it also worked well to switch to the main Cir and Phu part way through. It tied together what happened during the show nicely while also giving us some lovey dovey WimJin and a superb NC scene with main CirPhu. Now I'm just excited to see what MeMindY will announce next!

🇹🇭 Perfect 10 Liners

Episode 23 of 24 || Watching on: Youtube, Sunday

I was expecting to be disappointed by how the show would handle Fai and Yotha's parents but that scene frustrated me a lot. Sure the apology was a step in the right direction but there was just so much missing in the conversation. The dad didn't even apologies and the same with Newton and Yotha. Fai deserved so much better! And I wish the show had given Wine a chance to be mad at Fai's family more instead of this pale imitation of a loving and caring family. Anyways, I still love Wine and Fai, though I felt bad for any other person on their campsite because tents do nothing to muffle noises.

🇹🇭 Your Sky of Us

Episode 1 of 3 || Watching on: iQiYi, Saturday

This was cute and a great start to the special episodes but nothing of substance. It might be because I've watched Domundi's reality TV show recently but I felt like I was watching the actors just playing around with a thin layer of plot. I'm not saying this is bad, it's just pure fluff and slice of life in classic Special Episode fashion.

🇹🇭 Lost in the Woods

Episode 2 of 7 || Watching on: Gagaoolala, Wednesday

I feel like so far this show is a solid little gem. Nothing extraordinary and it still has to prove itself completely but I'm definitely enjoying it. It also doesn't hurt that I'm absolutely loving the nature porn! I was already planning on going back to Northern Thailand so they really didn't need to convince me more but I am not complaining. Plot wise Fifa was dealt such a shitting hand this episode and I find it hard to believe that our allergic guy didn't think twice before eating the meal he was given but I'm suspending belief. I however don't think it was weird that Hem got really angry and frustrated with Fifa even if it was unfair. It's a serious matter and Hem was scared and he doesn't know all the facts about Fifa's day and how much effort he's put in. This combined with how Hem has this very specific image of how Fifa is the most spoiled brat from their first meeting with a dash of prejudice from previous life experiences I'm not surprised he automatically assumed that Fifa is entirely to blame and got mad at him. Also I like where they are now because Hem's gotta realize that he was unfair to Fifa which means they now have unfinished business between them which is bound to change their relationship. Just imagine me rubbing my hands together in excitement for next week.

🇹🇭 My Golden Blood

Episode 3 of 12 || Watching on: Youtube, Wednesday

I'm still not entirely convinced by Joss and Gawin but I'm convinced enough by the plot that I have theories and many thoughts to the point where I had to make a post about my main theories. If anyone wants to join in the theorizing I'm all ears! I'll definitely keep tuning in the coming weeks to see how wrong or right I am in my theories and to find out which bodily fluid will come into play next or if we've reached GMMTVs limit for bodily fluids 🤭

🇹🇭 I'm Your Moon

Episode 3 of 8 || Watching on: iQiYi, Sunday

This is giving To Sir With Love meets Until We Meet Again. The show screams melodrama and lakorn but for what it is, I'm enjoying it, even if the acting is a little wooden. So if you like lakorns/soaps and historical lesbians this might be the show for you! I do wish they'd cast a slightly older woman in the youngest of the two leads but that's me being nit-picky.

🇹🇭 Reverse with Me

Episode 8 of 8 || Watching on: iQiYi, Wednesday

I really liked this concept even if I think the landing of the time travel plot was a little muddled. I don't know if I'll ever re-watch it but I had a good time watching it. For the final episode I kept thinking about how this episode was the perfect example of why I don't feel drawn to many GLs. It just confirmed my theories from my post about "Why more people watch BLs than GLs" because the final was just a romantic cherry on top in a way that most QL enjoyers would love. Not much plot but just romance and our characters getting their happy ever after but I was struggling so hard to enjoy that. Don't get me wrong, this is all me and not because of the show and I'll probably try and summaries and expand on my thoughts in another post later.

🇹🇭 Top Form

Episode 2 of 11 || Watching on: Gray, Thursday

I keep loving the production but I'm still not really into the main character dynamic. I don't know what it is but it just feels uneven which for some reason rubs me the wrong way in this one.

That's it for this week!!

For links and airing schedule check out World of BL (Only for BLs)