#i want to twirl his beard

[illiana-mystery]

2015

[bpmiranda]

Uncle Logan II |l. howlett| nsfw

A/N: pure smut, uncle!logan x faux!niece reader, smut, age gap, 18+ f!reader, clit play, fingering, spitting, orgasm denial, mean!logan, dom!logan

Uncle Logan

The hell is wrong with me? Logan thought to himself the next morning as he laid awake on his bed, rubbing his hand over his face and scratching his beard in frustration. Before yesterday, he had never looked at you in that manner, but something about seeing you all grown up, dressed up so pretty, so vulnerable for him. It was like he couldn’t help himself, he needed to taste you so badly, his instincts taking over any reason he had left.

It couldn’t be as bad as he thought, you weren’t really his niece at the end of the day. Maybe, hopefully, you’d forgotten about last night and it wouldn’t come up. Logan knew that wasn’t the case when you shyly came out of your bedroom and looked at him with wide, nervous eyes. “Morning, Uncle Logan.” You said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey, sweet girl,” He said, looking at you over the rim of his mug as he sipped his coffee while sitting at the kitchen table. “Have a seat.” He motioned to the chair across from him and you obediently sat down. Logan pushed a mug towards you that was filled with coffee as well and you gave him a thankful smile as you sipped it slowly. “About last night,” He started, watching you carefully as he tried to figure out how to word this for you. “I hope you understand that I’m only tough on you because that’s what your parents want and that’s clearly what you need.” You chew anxiously on your bottom lip and nod slowly, hands holding tightly onto your mug as it sits in your lap. “The sneaking out, the drinking at bars, it’s gotta stop. You can’t behave like that anymore, got it?” You nod again. Logan takes in a deep breath and clears his throat. “I shouldn’t have come onto you the way I did. It wasn’t appropriate, and I apologize.”

Your cheeks grew warm with the reminder of last night and you looked down at your mug, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. “I’m sorry, Uncle Logan.” You said, looking back up at him. “I won’t sneak out again.”

“Good.”

That was the end of that conversation.

Logan made you breakfast and then gave you a list of chores to complete while he went to work. “Everything on this list?” You ask with a mouthful of eggs and he chuckles, shaking his head as he shrugs on his coat and tucks his reading glasses into the inside breast pocket.

“I warned your dad long ago not to spoil you.” He sighed with a smirk, caressing your head and kissing your forehead before leaving the apartment. “It better all be completed before I get back.” He calls as he closes the door behind him.

With a soft groan, you finish your breakfast and wash the dishes, which is the first thing on the list, and you smile. “Okay, done with that.” You say to yourself as you cross it off and then you read the rest of the list. “Sweep the apartment, mop the kitchen, clean the bathroom, wash the windows, take out the trash.” You pout and whine, already bored and annoyed with the list until you get an idea.

“You want me to come do your chores for you?” Adam laughs over the phone.

You can’t help the smile on your lips as you’re sitting on the living room couch, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger. “Please, baby?” You whine sweetly. “If you help me, we’ll have the apartment to ourselves.” You say in a singsong voice. “My uncle won’t be home until tonight. We can fool around a little since we couldn’t meet up last night.”

It doesn’t take much more than that to convince him and he arrives at Logan’s apartment within thirty minutes. You task him with the messier chores to do while you focus on the sweeping and the windows. When you finish before him and you tell him you’re going to take a quick shower as he leaves to take the trash out.

Underneath the hot water, you touch your chest slowly, run your fingers over the spot between your breasts where your uncle had kissed and bit on you last night. The thought made you clench your thighs together and you rushed through the rest of your shower to meet Adam in your bedroom. He was lying on your bed, flipping through a book while he waited for you, and he sat up immediately when you walked in wearing just your towel. “Hey,” He smirked, standing up and walking over to you. “Are we going to, you know?” He asked as he held onto your hips.

“No,” You smirked, pushing him back softly. “You’re going to sit on the bed and watch me.” Adam smiles as he lets you push him onto the end of your bed. You pick out a pair of black lace panties and a black camisole with a lace trim on the neckline. You drop your towel and make eye contact with your boyfriend as you slip the garments on.

“You’re killing me, sweet pea.” He groans as you walk over to him, giggling while you sat on his lap and kissed him. His hands slid slowly up your thighs and you immediately started to think about Logan. Your core ached as you remembered how his hands felt as they gripped tightly onto your thighs, your hands clutched onto his shoulders, and you pushed him back so he’d lay down. “Fuck, baby.” He groaned, grabbing your ass as you rocked your hips against his crotch.

All you could think about was Logan as you kept your eyes closed and tried to imagine it was him underneath you, pawing at you, begging for you. “Uh,” You gasped, a familiar tension forming in the pit of your belly. “Oh, oh, my God!” You groaned loudly, eyes squeezed shut as you were so close.

And then your bedroom door burst open making you gasp as you jumped off your boyfriend and scrambled to the other side of the room. Logan was standing in the doorway, fuming, looking from you to Adam who was visibly nervous underneath the hard, cold gaze of the large man blocking his only way out. “You,” Logan pointed at Adam and approached him, grabbing him roughly by the front of his shirt and dragging him out of your room. “Come with me.” You moved to stop Logan until he suddenly turned to you and you froze. “You stay right here.” He said through gritted teeth before he slammed your door shut. You could hear Logan yelling, Adam stammering back a response, and then the slam of the apartment door. You jumped at the sound, the apartment seemed to quake from the force, and you quickly got into your bed where you pulled the sheets up to cover yourself.

There was heavy pacing in the living area and it suddenly stopped. You grew nervous as you heard him coming to your door, your hands trembled as you held tightly onto your blankets. The door opened and Logan walked in with a tight jaw and cold eyes. As the door slammed behind him, you found yourself sitting up a little, almost expectantly.

“You don’t know how to follow directions, do you?” He asked, loosening his tie as he watched you cower under your sheets. “I said you had to do those chores,” Logan suddenly ripped the blankets off you and you gasped softly, watching him with big, nervous eyes. “And then, to make matters worse, you sneak your little boyfriend into my apartment.” You can feel his eyes roaming over your practically naked body with his rage-filled eyes and you fold your arms shyly over yourself. “What the hell were you planning on doing in my apartment?” He suddenly grabbed your jaw tightly in his hand, squeezing your cheeks together and getting really close to your face.

You moisten your lips, stammering nervously, eyes welling with tears. “I-I-we weren’t-Uncle Logan,” You pouted, your bottom lip quivering as a tear slid down your cheek. “I promise, I wasn’t going to do anything with him. I-I’m still a virgin.”

Logan stares at you for a moment, he knows you’re telling the truth, but you still need to be punished and you look so adorable in your little tank top and matching panties. You’re a weak man, he thinks to himself as he gives in to his filthy urges. “Still a virgin, huh?” He asks, his hand leaving your jaw, knuckles tracing down your chest to your mound. With one hand, he pushes your knees apart and he feels the wet spot on the crotch of your panties. You shudder as your pussy clenches around nothing, and he feels it. “You like to play with that boy’s head, don’t you?”

You swallow hard, scared to breathe as he is so gentle with his touch, you don’t want to deter him. “I don’t do it to be mean.” You murmur, watching his index finger with which he draws small circles over your clit. You’re biting your lip painfully hard, chest heaving, gripping tightly onto the bedsheets as he watches with amusement. You’re definitely a virgin. He can smell you, your arousal, the dampness of your panties giving away just how close you previously were to reaching an orgasm.

“Sounds like you need a taste of your own medicine.”He says decidedly as he rests a knee onto the mattress and drags you to the end of it. His hands guide your thighs around his waist and he leans one hand on the bed while the other thumbs your clit slowly over your thin panties. Your eyes roll back into your head at the pressure, the filthy feeling of being touched by your uncle. He’s not your uncle, you think to yourself as you begin to enjoy it. Your thighs lock onto him, your eyebrows scrunch together as you stare up at him with your mouth agape. His lips hover over yours, not kissing you, not even attempting to as you pant quietly against his mouth, moaning lewdly underneath his large frame. You’re gripping tightly onto the edge of the mattress, tears welling in your eyes as Logan watches you nearly come undone below him and then he stops.

That famous pout forms on your lips again and a few tears roll down your cheek as you say, “Please don’t stop, Uncle Logan.” You plead, your little body shaking as he moves your panties to the side, looking at the most private part of your body in a most intimate way.

“You’re not really in a position to call the shots.” He said, focused on your cunt as it glistened from your arousal, your core pulsed in desire, and Logan wanted so badly to taste you. “I don’t know how I’m going to get you to do as you’re told.” You whined as the pads of his index and middle fingers softly caressed your clit, his lips trailing down your jaw and to your neck. “Your parents warned me you’d be a hassle, but I never imagined this behavior from you.”

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, breathing heavily as his fingers rubbed your sensitive, aching bud. His hot breath fanned over your collarbone and you wanted to feel his mouth somewhere else. “I’m so sorry, I want to be good for you.”

Logan smirked at your words as he kissed your perky breasts through your soft, thin camisole. The tip of his tongue circled around your hardened nipple, biting lightly on it through the fabric, making you whine loudly as he was being so gentle and slow and you desperately wanted him to ruin you. “You want to be good?” He asked, kneeling on the floor at the end of your bed between your thighs. You sat up on your forearms and nodded, watching him slowly pull your panties down your legs with warm cheeks. Logan stuffed your damp garment in his back pocket and he moved your thighs to rest on his shoulders. “Don’t cum.”

“Logan!” You gasped, your mouth dropping slightly as he spit on your cunt and rubbed his saliva onto your clit, watching you grow desperate the more he touched you. His other hand pressed down onto your lower belly, pinning you to the bed so you couldn’t wriggle away from him as you became overwhelmed with the tension of an oncoming release. “Please, I need to cum! Please, please!”

“No.”

Your eyes welled with fresh, hot tears and you sobbed as your held onto the tension, forcing yourself to resist the tantalizing pull of pleasure. “You’re so mean!” You complained as you fell back onto the bed, covering your face with your hands as you cried.

Logan only chuckled as he continued toying with your clit, breathing heavily against your sopping folds. The air of his breath made your cunt clench with want and the smell of your arousal was driving him crazy with lust. Logan would always hold out longer than you, however. “Punishments are supposed to be mean, sweet girl. You know you deserve it.”

“Uncle Logan,” You moaned, one hand tentatively tangling in his hair as you sat back up on your elbow. “I was thinking about you when I was with him.” You told him, breathless and aching for more. Logan’s fingers stopped moving and he looked at you with a darkness veiling his eyes. “I want you to be my first.”

No, she’s your niece, he thought to himself. She’s basically your niece, it’s wrong. “Don’t do that.” He said, his index finger tracing the rim of your core, pushing in slowly to feel at your gummy walls. “You don’t want that.”

“It’s true,” Your other hand grabbed onto his hair as well, and you sat up to press your lips to his mouth. The scratch of his beard against your chin made you moan and he kissed you back, one hand on the side of your neck as his fingers continued feeling their way into your tight core, twisting slowly to stretch you gently. “Uncle Logan, I want you to fuck me.” You mewled as you pulled him over you, lying back with his large frame hovering above you as he continued finger fucking you. His tongue intertwined with yours, grunting against your kiss as you whined for him and pushed your trembling little frame into him. His fingers were quickly coated in the creamy, white sheen of your arousal, the juices threatening to spill out of you while you whimpered against his lips, desperately grinding into his hand. “Please, please, please!” You begged, burying your face in his chest as you were, once again, so close.

“Are you on birth control?” Logan suddenly found himself asking, hoping you’d say yes, and lightly clicking his tongue when you shyly shake your head. “Then I can’t fuck you, baby.” His fingers leave your warm, sopping cunt before you reach a release for the third time and you cry softly, covering your face again as he keeps your thighs spread apart so he can spit on your abused hole, cruelly rubbing his saliva into your clit one last time.

“Please, I wanna cum so bad.” You whimpered as he pulled the sheets back over you and licked his fingers clean off.

“Maybe if you followed directions the first time you wouldn’t feel so unsatisfied now.” He said in a harsh tone as he adjusted the hard shaft in his pants while looking at you lying breathless and annoyed in your bed. “Only good girls get rewarded, sweetheart.”

You were left alone in your bedroom, quietly trying to get yourself back to the brink of orgasm while Logan stood on the other side of your door, listening intently to your muffled moans and gasps as he stroked himself with your panties around his cock. His cum stained the lace fabric as he heard you whisper his name in pleasure, whining at the thought of him, and he grunted quietly with his release. They’re ruined, you wouldn’t want them back, he told himself as he kept your underwear and slept with it balled up in his hand the whole night.

🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃

Uncle Logan III

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @pinkanonwriting @captain039 @fictionalmen-dilflover @shybluebirdninja @virgoxfa1ry @thatweirdtheaternerd12

[0hmyg0th]

#𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎★ ╰┈➤ the things you would do to make that man fuck you with his suit on﹒⪩⪨﹒

 ⸻ you didn't know why. usually, men in suits would be a turn-off for you; you felt like they would be too uptight, too much of a hardass. but damn. nanami kento ( grade 1 sorcerer) sat across from you in this hot and sticky conference room, in the blazing heat of Tokyo. and it seems like every season - like clockwork, he would wear that suit. that blue dress shirt that hugged his body so tight that you can see the mere outline of his pecs, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows having his beefy arms and the veins that traveled down to his hands, his fingers. 

you daydream about his fingers, wrapping them around your throat, down your mouth, in your wet pussy that would clench around him every time he would rub just right. you took your pen, the clicker part into your mouth. just slightly gnawing on it. but your eyes moved down further and you weren't even embarrassed to be looking. ken had his legs open, wide. i think he was so preoccupied with the sheet paper in his hand that he didn't even take notice of how tight his pants were. the tan-colored material stretched around him, his bulge made its way to the surface. you were almost positive that he wasn't hard right, that was just how it always looked. even on soft.

you bet it was curved. and you bet he doesn't shave either. all hairy and untamed and not even on his pubic area but everywhere. his chest area and then you just so happen to imagine him with a beard … nah that wouldn't suit him.

I'd bet he fuck hard, you thought. you would tie that unmatched tie he always wore but never matched with the other colors he wore around your neck. he would take you senseless, not even apologizing for it. hell, you would be the one to convince him to do it. you envision him spanking you, telling you how much you've been a bad girl.

you smirked. twirling yourself in the rolling chair you sat in. You could feel the faint heartbeat of your clit throbbing. you need friction, so while everybody pays attention to the all-mighty gojo. you rubbed your thighs together, it wasn't the friction to bring you close to the edge but it was something you closed your eyes to, oh boy the things you would do to make that man fuck you with his suit on. right here, right now.

"y/n.." the six eye sensei spoke. even with that stupid blindfold on you can tell all six of eyes was looking at you. and he and you both knew why... fuck

he definitely caught you. and he will never let you live this down. ever

☄. *. ⋆ nanami kento [ this is exactly how i imagine ken to be in that conference room ]

✎ main mlist ﹒⪩⪨﹒comments and rebogging is appreciated but not required :) ﹒⪩⪨﹒ leave requests for jjk charcters if you want more!

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Tongue Tied✨

Dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

A/N: This just came out of nowhere when I was eating cherries, so here we are 😂 I was going to post this one later, but it was just sitting in my drafts.

Summary: Your dad’s best friend, Joel Miller, finds you in the kitchen eating some cherries. For your birthday, he gives you something that’ll make you a little tongue tied.

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Word Count: 3.1k

Tags: Smut, flirting, teasing, eating cherries, age gap (reader is 24, Joel is 51), oral receiving (fem), fingering, dirty talk, sneaking around, switching POVs

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  The air is warm as the summer breeze blows through the open window of the lit up kitchen. After a night of celebrating your twenty-fourth birthday, your parents decided to throw you a surprise barbecue. A few of your friends came, a couple of the neighbors meandered around the backyard, but one certain person was here that set your core on fire. Joel Miller. Your dad’s best friend, his favorite fishing buddy. 

   Joel was hot, like extremely hot. And not to mention he was fifty-one. Twice your age and off limits, but that made it that much more fun to tease him. 

   He’s in his signature blue flannel shirt today, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to expose strong arms and tanned skin, large veins threading down his forearms, and large meaty hands that could probably split you in two. His dark jeans hug his strong thighs, and his tousled grey speckled hair is slicked back just begging to be played with. 

   You can’t lie that you dream about him at night, can’t pretend you don’t imagine your fingers are his own that slip inside your dripping core and talk you through your orgasm. Attagirl. Say my name. Yeah, jus’ like that, sweetheart. Such a good fuckin’ girl.

   You bet he’s the best kisser, bet his tongue can take you to places that your fingers never could. You imagine his dark smoldering eyes all blown out and wide, his grey threaded beard tickling against your neckline while his tongue slides against your glistening skin. It’s only a dream, a fantasy your mind has conjured up to fill some void. But you’re determined to win him over one way or another. He will be yours.

   And it’s not like he’s completely innocent. You’ve seen him catch your eye once or twice, have caught him checking you out when you wore that pink bikini to the pool a few weeks ago. He can pretend all he wants, but the man fantasizes about you, too. 

   You sigh and pick another cherry from the big bowl sitting on the ceramic kitchen counter, popping it into your mouth as the sweet flavor slides down your throat. You lean against the counter and pull your short yellow dress down, the material barely grazing your tanned thighs. 

   You pop another cherry into your mouth and enjoy the quiet kitchen, taking just a few moments to pull yourself together until you have to go back outside. You’re sure they’re looking for you, but you had to get away from the heat of Joel’s smoldering stare. 

   Another minute goes by until you hear boots scuffing against the tiled floor. When you look up from under your long lashes, you freeze in place and gulp down the cherry that almost gets stuck in your throat. There he is, Joel Miller. Just standing and leaning against the doorway, brown eyes locked on yours. 

   “What’re you doin’ in here? Your dad’s lookin’ for ya out in the back,” Joel says across the kitchen.

   “Couldn’t come get me himself so he sent you instead? What a good friend you are.” You roll your eyes, one eyebrow raising in question while you see him scoff under his breath. 

   “Don’t be a brat. He’s busy makin’ burgers. Jus’ asked if I could come find ya.”

   “Well, you found me.” You lean into the counter and pick out another plump cherry. 

   “C’mon then. Get out there.” He nods his head towards the backyard and crosses his large arms over his broad chest. 

   “Can’t you see I’m busy?” You pop the cherry into your mouth and twirl the stem in between your fingers, keeping your eyes locked carefully on his. 

   He huffs out annoyed, pinching the bridge of his nose  while he makes his way across the kitchen, stopping on the opposite side of the counter as he leans against it and keeps his arms tight across his chest. “Yeah, real busy over there. Those cherries must be real good if they’ve got you locked in the kitchen.” His eyes flick to the glass bowl as you plop another one out from the batch. 

   “Sooo good.” You take your tongue and lick up the side of the cherry, pushing it into your mouth as you throw the stem on the edge of the counter. 

   He watches you chew, gulping down saliva as he focuses in on your red glossy lips. He thinks you look so gorgeous in your little yellow sundress, thinks your lips might taste just like those cherries. Savory, sweet, delicious. A thought that’s crossed his mind more than once before.

   He shouldn’t be in here alone with you, shouldn’t even stare while you lick your plush lips and devour the fresh cherries all seductively in front of him. He can picture you down on your knees, your tongue gliding over the tip of his throbbing cock, his fingers fisting the back of your hair while he fucks your pretty little mouth with his thick cock. He wants to hear those melodic moans out of your mouth, needs to get his mouth on your pretty pink pussy, would love to throw you on top of his bed sheets while he fucks you till he fills you with hot ropes of cum. 

   He’s a bad man for thinking of his best friend’s daughter like that, but he can’t help wanting something he can’t technically have. You’re off limits to him and so much younger, but he doesn’t give a shit. 

   He sees the way you’ve been teasing him. Walking around in those short skirts that barely cover your curvy ass and brushing your fingertips against his arms with every chance you get. He’s not a stupid man, he knows what you’re doing. But he won’t dare try to stop you. He likes the tease, loves the thought of you pining over him, and maybe one day he’ll finally teach you a lesson of what happens to naughty girls that just don’t know when to quit.

   “Stop that,” he demands, watching you lick your lips slowly while you swallow a cherry. 

   “Stop what?” you ask innocently. 

   “Stop teasin’ me.” His eyes are narrowed, jaw clenched as his eyes follow your tongue licking across the fresh fruit. 

   “Make me,” you smirk. You swallow the cherry whole and tap your manicured fingernails against the counter top, challenging him to make a move. 

   He clenches his fingers into a tight fist, sliding his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his eyes darkening as his nostrils flare in anger. He’s mad, furious that you’re making him this frazzled. He can’t ignore the hardening cock that stiffens against the denim of his jeans. All because you’re a fucking tease. 

   You pop your hip out and play with the cherry stem in between your fingers, batting your eyelashes flirtatiously at the handsome man that can barely control himself around you. “You know, they say if you can tie a knot with your tongue with a cherry stem that means you’re a good kisser,” you smirk. 

   “Is that right, darlin’?” he asks all intrigued, leaning forward as his dark eyes hone in on you. 

   “Mhm. Read a thing or two about it,” you giggle. 

   “Show me.” His voice comes out deep, gravelly as he leans against the counter and crosses his arms. It doesn’t come out as a response but a demand loud and clear. 

   You smirk his way and nod. You pop the cherry stem in your mouth and get to work. Your tongue twists and turns, working hard to get just the right angle with the stem. Joel watches you eagerly, his eyes blowing wide while his nostrils flare aggressively. You know he’s hard behind his jeans, and you’re dying to see just how massive he is. 

   When you finally feel the tiny knot in the stem, you open your mouth and reach in, grabbing the wet end with your fingertips. You hold it up and sure enough you did it. Right in the middle it’s tied in a tight knot. You knew you could do it. 

   Joel smirks your way, smoldering eyes glazed in a trance as he flicks them up and down your body seductively. Oh, he’s impressed and turned on. Look at the mess you’ve made. 

   “Color me impressed, sweetheart. That’s a neat talent you got there. What else can you do with that tongue?” he asks with a devilish grin curling against his big lips. 

   “Why don’t you come find out?” you taunt him. 

   He’s on you in less than a minute, large hands holding your hips against the counter while his hard cock digs into your thigh. You’re breathless, breathing in the scent of his mahogany cologne and his fresh soap smell while his dark eyes bleed into yours.

   “Careful with that pretty mouth, darlin’. I don’t think you realize what you’re gettin’ yourself into,” he warns, blown eyes making slick build in your lacy panties. 

   “No? I think I do,” you smirk. 

   “Shouldn’t be playin’ games with your dad’s best friend, sweetheart. Could get ya into trouble,” he tsks, clicking his tongue will his thick fingers dig into the material of your skimpy dress. 

   “So get me into trouble, Mr. Miller,” you whisper, enticing him to make a move as your hand drags down to where his hard cock is skimming across your thigh. 

   He’s on you then, his warm mouth pressing firmly against yours as his hands slowly slide your dress up. The kiss is messy, hot, uncontrolled as one of his hands fist the back of your curls. You part your mouth open and invite him in, letting him slot his tongue inside your panting mouth. 

   Your fingers slide through his tousled curls, pulling a low groan from his throat while his tongue licks feverishly inside your mouth. You could drown in his coffee taste, get lost in his lush locks with his teeth nipping at your skin. This was better than you imagined, better than your wildest dreams.

   He slides his calloused thumb against your drenched lace, finding your buzzing clit as he draws meticulous circles over and over. You moan into his mouth, panting his name as his fingers set your core on fire. 

   “Yeah? You like that, little tease?” he chuckles darkly, nipping against your bottom lip as another moan leaves your lips. 

   “Yes, fuck yes,” you say through clenched teeth. 

   “Mmm. Dirty girl wants her daddy’s best friend to finger fuck her, is that right?” he teases, sliding his fingers inside your lace and gliding through your damp folds, his fingers curling up into your dripping hole.

   You part your lips and moan, twisting your fingers tightly through his messy curls. “Fuck, Joel. Please, please. Want you to… ohhh,” you moan, melting into a puddle as his thick fingers hit that spongy spot that you can never reach yourself. 

   “That’s what I thought,” he chuckles. 

   His mouth finds neck, sucking against your collarbone as his free hand squeezes one of your perky breasts. He elicits another moan from you, the wet noises of his fingers fucking into you floating around the room, the obscene sounds making him groan against the shell of your ear. 

   Before you know what happens he releases his fingers from your core and grabs your hips firmly, hoisting you up on the edge of the counter while he pulls the ruined lace down your legs and drops them to the tiled floor. You let out a squeak, watching the way he spreads your legs and pulls you to the edge, hungry eyes eating you alive. 

   “Gonna need you to be quiet, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” he asks through gritted teeth, like he’s holding himself back from dragging you to his mouth. 

   “Mhm,” you hum, out of breath while more slick pools in between your thighs. “Joel, please,” you beg. 

   “Ain’t gotta beg, baby girl. Gonna take good care of this pretty pussy,” he purrs. 

   He wastes no time as he licks a thick stripe up your folds, lathering you in the wetness of his warm tongue. You throw your head back and grip the edge of the counter while he settles your legs over his shoulders. 

   He places his meaty hands around the backs of your thighs and starts to make out with your pussy. His tongue divides your folds, licking up inside your drenched hole and makes his way up to your puffy clit. He draws meticulous circles over your aching bundle of nerves, eliciting low moans that fall off the tip of your tongue. 

   You tangle your hands through his smooth locks, hear him grunt while he pulls your buzzing mound into his warm mouth. “Oh my God, Joel,” you whine. 

   “Yeah? Like the sound of you moaning my name, sweetheart. Say it again,” he demands as he plunges two thick fingers into your gushing core, watching slick slide down his hand while he’s knuckles deep in you. 

   You moan it again and again and again, watching his blown out eyes stare up at you menacingly, mouth feasting on your drool coated pussy. He finger fucks you swiftly, curling his fingers to hit that spongy spot over and over again, his deft tongue gliding against your throbbing clit until you’re right on the edge. 

   Your walls clench against his fingers, mouth chanting his name dreamily while he gets you right where you need to be. 

   “Come for me, sweetheart. Drench these fingers with that sweet, sticky cum. Be a good girl now,” he purrs, licking against your warm core. 

   He pulls your bundle of nerves into his mouth and sucks hard, rutting his thick fingers against the sweetest spongy spots that takes you to the finish line. You throw your head back and moan his name, feeling the white hot heat slide down the back of your spine. 

   “Attagirl. Look at you spill, goddamn” he growls, licking your spilling slick between your thighs and working his fingers in and out of your core, making sure to get every single drop of cum from your center. 

   He talks you through it, licking you clean as he works you through your intense orgasm, massaging your thighs until your breathing is back to normal. He slides your panties back up your thighs, covering your ruined pussy while he pulls your skirt back over your thighs.

   He stands up between your legs and circles your hips with his meaty hands, whispering sweet incantations in the shell of your ear. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Hope you liked your present.” 

   He gives you a quick kiss to your lips, letting you taste your own release on the tip of your tongue along with the delicious taste of him. 

   You wrap your arms around his neck loosely, not yet wanting him to leave the room without you tucked into his side. “Joel,” you murmur through a warm daze.

   “Hmm?” He knits his eyebrows into a tight line and looks at you with clouded brown eyes.

   “Can we do that again?” you ask with big sappy eyes full of hope.

   He huffs out, groaning through his teeth as his wide eyes stay locked on yours. “You want to do that again?” he asks, licking his tongue along the bottom of his teeth. 

   “Mhm,” you nod, smiling over at him. “Next time I want you to fuck me, and I want to suck your cock.”

   He chokes on his own saliva and chuckles out, shaking his head as he tightens his grip on your hips. “Jesus Christ. You’re gonna be a handful, ain’t ya?”

   “You know I am.” You giggle and push your fingers through his messy curls, adjusting it so it doesn’t look like he just went down on you. 

   He shakes his head and sighs, helping you off the spotless counter top. His fingertips hover over your back, hands pressing against your sweating skin while his lips hang dangerously close to your mouth. “You messy girl. What am I gonna do with ya, huh?” he smiles, tracing his thumb over your lower lip.

   “Guess you just have to keep me,” you shrug, smiling blissfully at the man of your dreams.

   “Maybe I will, sweetheart. Maybe I will.”

   He curls a strand of hair behind your ear and trails his lips against your cheek, mouth closing in on yours. Your breath hitches and body comes alive just waiting for his lips to be back on yours. Suddenly, the back door is swinging up and heavy footsteps are coming through the kitchen entryway.

   You and Joel jump apart, your heart in your throat and adrenaline coursing through your blood. “There you two are. Was wondering where you were,” your dad shouts, his loud voice killing the heat of the moment. 

   “Sorry, bud. Your daughter here was just showin’ me how good these cherries were,” Joel says calmly. He grabs a cherry from the bowl and pops it in his mouth, winking your way before he exits the kitchen with your dad. 

   You stand there breathlessly, not believing what just happened. Joel just kissed you, finger fucked you, and ate you out in the middle of the kitchen where anyone could’ve walked in and saw. You were walking on thin ice, but you’d happily do it all over again.

   You readjust your dress and smooth down your messy locks, making sure your lipstick isn’t all smudged down your chin. Once you make sure you look like you hadn’t just been fucked, you make your way outside into the backyard. 

   Your friends crowd around the inground pool while your folks and neighbors sit around on some lounge chairs, sipping on lemonade and eating hamburgers off plastic plates. You find an empty chair next to your friend, Nikki, and act as if you were completely normal. Nothing was normal about today, though. Not after what just happened in the kitchen with Joel Miller. The hottest neighbor that had walked into your dad’s life three years ago. Guess he always had a thing for you secretly, you just didn’t know it till this year.

   Your eyes flick across the lawn and you find Joel staring at you, nursing a beer down with his lips around the flute of the bottle. His honey brown eyes find yours, and you gasp when you see a smudge of red lipstick smeared across the collar of his blue flannel. You giggle at the sight of it, snickering to yourself as you join in on a conversation about your weekend plans. 

   Guess you left your mark on him after all. 

[fastandcarlos]

Shaving Practice : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: as you reluctantly say goodbye to charles' beard, he finds himself wanting a helping hand in order to get rid of it

Your footsteps were quiet as you made your way across to the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe. Charles was stood, unaware of your presence behind him, as his hands brushed through his hair before running along his jawline, noticing just how long his beard was beginning to get, frowning at how uncomfortable it was. 

“So handsome,” you jokingly commented, making Charles jump as he twirled around to come face to face with you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump,” you added as you walked further into the room. 

Charles’ head shook as he pressed a kiss against the top of your head. “I wasn’t expecting you to be home so early, I thought I’d have time to get rid of this thing before you got back and tried to argue with me that I couldn’t.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re going clean shaven again?” 

Charles’ head nodded, much to your dissatisfaction. As you went to protest, Charles turned around anyway and began filling the sink with water, grabbing his shaving foam from the cupboard. You leant back against the wall and watched as Charles began to apply the foam to his face. 

“Is this really necessary? Can’t you just trim it or something?” You tried to suggest, but Charles shook his head. “You know what you with a beard does to me Charles.” 

“I know, and it’ll grow back,” he tried his best to assure you, picking up his razor. “But for now I just need to tidy myself up for a bit, and that means getting rid of all of this.” 

“You promise you’re going to grow it back?” You challenged, wanting to hear it one more time from Charles. “I don’t get why you don’t love the beard as much as I do.” 

Another laugh came from Charles as you continued to protest behind him.  “I do like it,” Charles smirked as he took the lid off of his razor. “But sometimes I just prefer to be clean shaven for a while, I guess it just depends on how I’m feeling.” 

You moved closer to Charles, resting your hand on his shoulder as he started to run his razor along his face. “I bet all of your fans would agree that the beard is better anyway.” 

Your eyes looked nowhere else but at Charles as he continued to shave the right side of his face. He could feel you watching, glancing briefly to look at the concentration in your face as you studied him, admiring how gentle his movements were to make sure that he didn’t hurt himself. 

After a few minutes Charles came to a stop, turning around to face you. Once he had rinsed the razor off in the sink he held it out to you, a wide smile on his face as your brows knitted together. 

“I can feel you watching me, so now it’s your turn to do it instead.” 

“You’re trusting me to shave your face?” 

Charles nodded as you took the razor from his hand, moving closer to him so that you could see. “You’ve shaved yourself enough times, it’s only the same as that, just this time you’re shaving a face. Surely you can’t mess it up.” 

You looked to Charles questionably, impressed by how well he trusted you to shave him without making a mess. “This is either going to be the smartest or stupidest thing you suggest that we do just so you know.” 

“I trust that you’ll take good care of me,” Charles proudly told you as he felt your hand hold onto his chin as you began to shave the other side of his face. “This feels like the sort of thing they do in the movies.” 

You could only hum in reply to Charles as you didn’t want to lose your concentration. Whilst you focused, his arm couldn’t help but snake around your frame as Charles kept you as close to him as possible. 

Although Charles always knew you’d do a careful job of helping him shave, he couldn’t help but feel his heart race at just how concentrated you were. As much as it pained you to say goodbye to his beard, you knew that it was the right thing to do and Charles’ choice.  

“I’m looking good,” he smirked as you began to wash some of the foam off of his face from where you had shaven, impressed by how good of a job you’d done. “Now it’s time to get rid of your favourite bit though, my chin.” 

Your eyes rolled but you knew it needed to be done. “As much as it pains me to shave it off, I can’t have you going out looking like you do right now, people will think you’re a right weirdo.” 

“I’m a weirdo for you,” Charles remarked, hearing you scoff beside him. 

Your head shook in disbelief at his comment, “sometimes I wonder if you hear the things you say in your head before you say them aloud?” 

“I’m just distracting you from the fact you’re shaving my beard off,” he laughed in reply. 

Your conversations continued as you carried on your job of shaving Charles. You were cautious with every stroke, hearing light giggles come from Charles every time he felt you tickle his face or panic when you thought you might’ve hurt him.  

Every so often you took a step back, studying Charles’ face to make sure that you didn’t miss a bit. “Stop it,” you whispered as you did so, feeling the intense stare of his eyes looking at you, silently asking for you to meet his eyes. 

Charles innocently smiled as you placed the razor down, content that you had shaven every hair from his face. “I’m not doing anything,” he smirked, tickling gently against your waist now that the razor was done. 

Your hand reached into the sink, picking up some water and flicking it at Charles to try and deter him away. “You’ve just made me shave your beloved beard, there’s no way I’m sleeping with you right now.” 

“Why not?” Charles chuckled, wiping his face with the material of his shirt. “We could use this as an opportunity for me to remind you how good I can also make you feel without the beard,” he hummed, pulling your frame closer towards him, only a few centimetres between you both. 

“It still won’t be as good as the beard,” you jokingly protested. 

Charles began to pepper kisses along your neck, brushing his smooth skin against yours. “I don’t think you can make an assumption like that without trying it out.” 

You tried your best to ignore what Charles was doing, but as one of his hands began to trail further down your body you found yourself very quickly losing control. 

Charles could feel your body tense up too as his lips trailed up to your sweet spot just below your ear. “I think you secretly fancy me just as much without the beard as you do with it, all you have to do is say the word and I’m all yours my love.” 

Momentarily Charles pulled away from you, allowing his eyes to meet your own. “You’re enjoying this too much,” you scolded as Charles proudly nodded back at you. 

His eyebrows raised as he admired the expression on your face. “I don’t think I’m the only one that’s enjoying this, you seem to be a little bit flustered there cherie.” 

“I hate the things that you do to me sometimes., you’re the worst Charles LeClerc.” 

A snigger came from Charles, “I’m still waiting to hear what you want from me.” 

“I mean, we might as well try now that we’re here, Charlie.” 

“I’ll prove you wrong my love.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[zepskies]

Imagine: Soldier Boy Getting Jealous...

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader || (past Frenchie x F. Reader)

Request: Soldier Boy finding out you had something with Frenchie, years before meeting him.

Word Count: 1K

Tags/Warnings: Jealousy lol (With a hint of spice.~)

Imagine: Ben getting jealous over your past relationship with Frenchie.

He doesn't care.

Because he doesn't care...

When you sit him down in the living room of your apartment and tell him you used to date Frenchie, Ben's reaction is mild at best. To the point where it kind of concerns you.

Ben raises a brow and gives a deep hum.

"Oh, really? That limey bastard?" he remarks. He takes a sip from his tumbler of whiskey. You give him a weary sigh.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't call him that," you reply. You and Frenchie are still friends. Your "entanglement" was years ago, before he even started hooking up with Cherie.

But you still want to be honest with Ben. You two have been dating for a few months now, and it's actually serious. No one's more surprised than you by that fact, but...you're happy. You think he is too.

At your response, however, Ben rolls his eyes and continues drinking. You tilt your head in suspicion.

"So you're chill?" you ask.

"Chill?" he quirks a brow at you. Your lips form a smile.

"You're okay with this," you amend.

Ben shrugs and turns on the TV, trying to navigate the streaming apps. You’d put him on to Game of Thrones. Even three seasons into his binge-watching, he doesn’t want to admit that he’s hooked.

"You're fucking a real man now, sweetheart. No skin off my nose," he says.

It's your turn to roll your eyes, despite a warm blush stinging your cheeks.

But the next time you all go out together to a club in the city, Ben watches you leave his side to say hello to your friends: Annie, Hughie, Frenchie and Kimiko. Frenchie takes your hands and makes a show of looking you up and down.

"Well, well. She shoots to kill tonight, eh?" Frenchie says. When he leans in to kiss your cheek, he whispers, "Ah, black leather. My old favorite."

"Stop," you warn with a smile, hitting his shoulder. He's absolutely shameless. "You're too much."

"And you are just enough," Frenchie returns. He whistles playfully as he raises your hand to twirl you around, showing you off in your little black dress and red-bottom heels.

You laugh, but you bump into Ben when you twirl for the second time. Your laughter cuts off abruptly when you see the flinty look on his face, though he's clinging to stoicism.

Frenchie’s eyes widen as he seems to realize the very real danger he's put himself in. He wisely lets go of your hand, pivots on his heel and goes with Kimiko over to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, you move back to Ben's side and try to placate him by looping your arm through his. He responds by wrapping a strong arm around your waist. His eyes bore into the back of Frenchie's head so hard, you almost expect laser beams to come out of them.

"Come on, let's get a drink," you suggest, patting a hand on Ben's chest. He looks good tonight in a burgundy button-down shirt tucked into his slacks.

Ben wordlessly agrees to your suggestion, but he grabs a stool and drags it close to his own seat. He does help you by the hand onto the stool, but then his arm wraps back around your waist, pulling you in snugly, possessively to his side.

You try not to smile in amusement. It's a caveman's display, but at least you know the root cause this time.

...Okay, maybe you feel the tiniest bit complicit, but really, you think Ben's overreacting.

After he flags down the bartender and orders his bourbon and your martini, you tap against his bearded cheek, earning his green-eyed attention.

"You okay?" you ask knowingly.

"Just fine," he deadpans.

"Oh, well that's convincing," you say with a smile. "Do I need to remind you that I'm here with you?"

Ben's gaze hardens. "I don't know. You were pretty happy to let that French whore put his fucking hands all over you—"

"All right. Calm down, Rambo," you say, trying not to laugh as you rub his arm. "Sorry, baby. That's just how we've always cut up. It doesn't mean anything."

Ben scoffs in derision. "Yeah? Fuck if I care."

You frown at that, sparking with annoyance. Somehow, now you actually do feel guilty. You and Frenchie have bounced off each other like Derek and Garcia for so long, you didn't even realize how it might look...or how it might make your boyfriend feel.

Because even with all that ego and injured pride, you have a feeling there's a real sting of hurt under there.

"Hey," you say, squeezing Ben's wrist. His gaze remains stubbornly on the bartender making your drinks.

You decide to take matters more firmly into your hands.

Reaching up for his chin, you guide Ben's face toward yours and press a kiss to his lips. It's slow at first, but it soon gains in passion. His teeth graze your bottom lip, before his tongue demands entrance into your mouth with claiming purpose.

It elicits a hint of a moan from you, your fingers clenching in his hair. Your nails drag against his scalp, almost making him shudder.

Your supple lips eventually pull away from his, nice and slow.

"Your hands are the only hands I care about touching me," you say. Your expression twinkles with mischief as you toy with the zipper on the side of your dress.

"As a matter of fact, I need your help," you add. "This zipper keeps catching on something. I think it's stuck."

Quite possibly because someone got a little handsy in the cab on the way here.

Ben smirks, though he claims your lips in one more slightly rough kiss before he answers.

"Well that is a problem," he says. His eyes roam down your face, taking in your thoroughly kissed lips, and the cleavage peeking out at him from the neckline of your dress.

"Think I can give you a hand," he says, as his actual hand slips down your leg. His fingers brush along the inside of your thigh, tingling across your skin. His half-lidded gaze once again meeting yours. "Better take you out back and fix you up."

You laugh, despite the return of your blush. You cling to his shoulders, while his fingers burn a tantalizing trail upwards.

"Oh, yeah. Save me, Soldier Boy!" you tease.

He snorts in response, but he helps guide you out of your seat.

Moments later, all your friends find at the bar are two forgotten drinks and a couple of empty stools.

AN: Ah, jealous Ben. It's fun to imagine. 😂

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SB Tag List (Part 1):

@melancholictearz @spnwoman @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @anticxrrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky

@teehxk @midnightmadwoman @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem

@deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees

@xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley

@sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @emily-winchester @tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105

@liuope @beautyvaliant @xxlaynaxx @chernayawidow @tmb510

@iamsapphine @roseblue373 @lacilou @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waynes-multiverse

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

🚨This is a Stede Bonnet season 2 appreciation post 🚨

There's not enough love for my guy Stede on my dash. Some of my favorite excellent Stede moments in season 2:

Apparently having so many dreams about Ed that his horny moaning is a major source of frustration amongst the crew

The way he kisses the bottle before tossing it into the sea still makes me fucking feral

Trying to do a little Ed voice while venting to the wanted poster and then immediately getting mad that Ricky saw him doing that ("can't a man have a little privacy?") even though he made no attempt to move out of a public area

"Sorry if that's a bit creepy-" "YOU ARE CREEPY"

Getting tf out of there when Ricky starts fooling around. Say what you want about Stede but he knows when to leave a situation

Just fucking bitching constantly while he's on Zheng Yi Sao's ship. He hates the wake up bell and he is overqualified for towels 😤

*about the wanted poster* They drew him to look like a ghoul :/

Trying to figure out Ed's location based on a map he's drawn himself and then getting confused about where Cuba is. On the map he's drawn himself

Circling "alive" on the wanted poster

The way he put his own pain and grief aside to prioritize keeping his crew safe, even when he thought some of these people who he cares about so much just killed the love of his life

The way he fondly, mournfully calls Ed a nut when he believes he is dead. The way he beats on Ed's chest to try and bring him back. The love and desperation of it all

"Don't you want your sammie?"

Continuing the trend of venting at length to anyone who asks him about how he's doing, only this time to Anne, who will weaponize this information

For what it's worth. I like your beard. the length

Describing Anne kissing him as "she jumped on my face!!!"

The way he runs in general. Limbs akimbo

His cunty little twirls in the red suit

The way you KNOW Ned Low is a dead man walking from the instant he plays with Ed's hair and insults him. Stede was never going to let him leave that ship alive

The way he immediately compliments the piece of twine Ed brought him on his breakfast tray when he realizes how much this means to Ed

Shouting "FOR LOVE" as a battle cry immediately after getting his boyfriend back

Zero hesitation when Ed asks him if he's having second thoughts about becoming inkeepers. Zero. He knows his priorities now and he knows his number one priority is Ed!

🚨 This has been a Stede Bonnet appreciation post 🚨

[blairespandora]

First Kiss - Daryl Dixon Imagine

Imagine Daryl’s breath hitching a little as soon as he placed his hand against your cheek gently moving his fingers along, like it was made of glass.

“God...”

He whispered while beginning to move closer to you barely pressing his lips against yours. Soon as your lips meet his you feel his body melt against yours gently wrapping his arms around your hips pulling you closer to him. A soft moan escapes from your lips and he lets his tongue glide across your bottom lip slowly slipping inside to explore the inside of your mouth. Taking his time to taste you and gently explore making sure you are completely taken by him.

As the kiss deepened, he began to guide your body backwards until you felt the harsh bark of a tree against your back, not a second later his body hovered right over yours gently keeping you in place with his hips as he continued to explore your mouth. His tongue twirling with yours occasionally sucking on your lips and every so often he’d bite down. His hands would be softly moving through your hair, his fingers pressing slightly on the nape of your neck, moving gently.

His kisses became slower, softer. After a few more moments of making out, his arms snaked around your body, his hands gripping onto you, holding you close as he broke the kiss and gently pressed his forehead against yours both of you looking directly at each other panting. In that moment, he let his guard down completely and allowed himself to be vulnerable with you. Softly whispering

“Damn you…”

“Ya’ makein’ me so damn weak, doll.”

Daryl managed to say once you both were able to breathe properly again before burying his face in the crook of your neck. His rough beard tickling you slightly, making you shiver as his hands moved down to your hips pulling your body closer to him. The feeling of just how vulnerable he was being with you made everything in the moment feel right.

A/N: I just want to hold him tight and protect him from everything in that goddamn world ;;;;

[msbigredmachine]

Black Sweatpants (Roman Reigns)

Why did the Tribal Chief arrive late to the Pat McAfee Show? Based on Roman's appearance on March 22 2024. Pat was forced to cut a promo on the fly because Roman took too long to come out 😂

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Smut

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

You knew he would get out there late, and you accepted full responsibility. But given the way you were getting dicked down right now, it was totally worth it.

Your blood-red lace thong dangled from your right ankle as Roman jackhammered into you, his thick shaft stuffed inside your tender walls. Biting down on your bottom lip, you wrapped your arms tight around the big man, long-awaited pleasure coursing down your spine all the way to your pastel-colored toes as he pounded you out in the corner of the spacious locker room.

"Oh, ohhh fuck," you couldn't help but cry out at one particularly deep thrust.

"Keep it down before someone comes in here," he growled. Hunched over you, the wicked gleam in his eyes watching you struggle to suppress your moans, told you he was relishing every second of your agony.

"I'm trying, you ain't helping," you whined back.

"Not hard enough," he countered, nudging your legs wider and making you watch his dick disappear inside your wetness. He slapped your hand away when you placed it on his abs to push him back because he was getting too deep. "Naw, you wanted this dick all day, you better take it now..."

When you ordered the new all-black hoodie and joggers set from Nike for Roman, you knew he would look good in it. However, when he returned for his scheduled private flight to Iowa for Pat McAfee's show wearing it, you didn't expect him to look that good. And you certainly did not expect his dick print to be on display like that. You had endured three tortuous weeks of no sex because he'd been away spending time with his two kids he shared with his ex-wife. So you were excited to have him back, and judging from that not-so-little bulge between his legs, he was excited to see you too. You could all but see it, that long, thick brown cock that time and again wreaked the unholiest of havoc in you, protruding against the cotton material and calling for your attention. But the man had the gall to play hard to get, deliberately spurning your advances, acting all platonic and professional, like the rest of his team didn't already know you were lovers. Never one to back down, you ramped up your actions, rubbing his inner thigh throughout the flight and on the ride to Field House, brushing your body against him every chance you got, teasing him right back, trying to get him to crack. As soon as he ordered everyone out of his locker room just minutes after arriving, you knew you succeeded.

Roman planted wet kisses along the side of your neck, the soft prickles of his thick beard unleashing another flood between your legs. His hulking body stretched over yours, his sweatpants rolled down to just underneath the curve of his ass cheeks for the purpose of this quickie. He was so hard inside you, demanding your pleasure as he impaled you with no mercy, his tempo hot and frenetic from the very start. His big hand slipped from your breast downwards to twirl his fingertips around your clit, your throaty whines music to his ears as your sweet moisture pooled around his fingers. The squelching noise pierced the air that was already thickened by your heavy breaths and his hips smacking into yours.

"Mmm, wet as fuck, just the way I like it," Roman grunted, leaning down to suckle on your left nipple, his saliva smearing the puckered skin when he released it with a wet pop, "I can tell you was goin' crazy without this dick, right, baby?"

"Yes, and yet your punk ass still ignored me all day, too fuckin' busy making your damn TikTok videos," you griped.

"Quit your whining, Daddy always gives you what you want in the end. Unh, how you feel so good all the time? I love it," he moaned, his brown irises rolling back briefly before they landed on yours again in an intense stare. Through the lustful haze of passion, you felt your heart thumping rapidly inside your chest as you looked into his eyes. It didn't matter if you were having sex or not; it always sped up in his mere presence.

You fell in love with him not long after you became his personal assistant a year and a half ago. You worked hard to please him, on the job and off it, and he showed you his gratitude in a plethora of ways, carnal and otherwise. You were a walking cliché, but you couldn't care less, not when it bagged you a man like that. The sex appeal oozed from his pores. He was confident and self-assured and had worked his ass off to get to where he was today. He got along with all of his team, was a decent and fair employer, and was generous to a fault, showering his staff with presents on birthdays and Christmases. The diamond pendant he gifted you for Valentine's Day currently hid between your cleavage he was kneading with his big hands. He was everything you could ask for in a boss and a boyfriend, which was honestly an impressive feat.

You placed one hand behind his neck and tugged him down to flick your tongue inside his warm mouth. His thrusts remained indulgent as you kissed hungrily, branding you, marking you, wiping out everything from your mind except the euphoric feeling that engulfed you every time he kissed and fucked you dumb. He pushed your dress further up your waist and gathered your supple ass cheek in his competent hand, lifting you right up against him. He was all up in your stomach and your walls suckled his cock greedily, holding him in a vice-like grip. The gruff yet sensual sounds pouring from him teased your core, making you need more of it, more of him.

"Awww, shit, yes," Your eyes fluttered shut when he began to wind his hips, circling clockwise and then in reverse, the head of his cock churning your sweet spot, his triumphant growl accompanying every thrust. In and out, in and out, the erotic loop punctuated by the low, husky groans of your Tribal Chief, causing your head to rock back from blinding bliss. "Ooooh baby, baby right there, ahh," you whimpered.

"Uh huh, I'm deep in that shit. Got this pussy feelin' good, huh?" Roman said, his haughty taunts disappearing in another moan as your pussy rippled around his dick over and over. He kept up his grinding strokes which seemed to intensify the throatier and more desperate your moans grew, as though the mere sound of them fueled his ruthlessness. His paw curled around your throat, his display of dominance leaving you a sopping, dripping mess as he made you take every inch of him. You were dizzy, on the verge of falling apart, and your body burned for release, yet all you could do was hold on while this man continued to destroy you, rendering you helpless and pathetic and under his heady spell.

"I'm gonna come, Daddy," you gasped. Your fingernails clawed at his forearm holding your neck, moaning his name as he fucked you harder, making sure there was no way you would last long with the kind of pounding he was giving you right now.

"Mmm-hmm, come on my dick, give it to me," he ordered, barely hanging on himself. He groaned as your pussy walls held his cock hostage, making him swell inside you as his climax beckoned. "Fuck, babe, ahhh, fuck..."

Burying your face in his broad chest, you barely kept your scream muffled as your orgasm tore through you, your body arching, legs trembling around his waist as you came hard. Time and space and coherence blurred into one sensual puddle. His heavy weight almost smothered you as he chased his own orgasm, his eyes glazing over in a telltale sign that he was right there with you. His hips jerked as his dick began to throb and twitch inside you, and you gasped at the feel of his seed spilling inside your walls, his big body shivering from the force of his release, his deep voice exhaling guttural moans as he succumbed to you. It felt so good, feeling him fall with you, toppling over the precipice of pleasure together.

After he finally caught his breath, Roman shifted back a bit to observe you, taking in your face, flushed with satisfaction, your lips plumped and ravaged by his own. You looked damn beautiful, and he showed you by brushing your mouths together in the gentlest, sweetest kisses.

"Happy now?" he smirked.

You grinned from ear to ear. "Very happy, Daddy. I've missed you. Love you so much."

"I love you too, baby," he replied with one last soft kiss, both of you moaning as his drained dick slipped out of your warm confines. You dragged yourself to a seated position when he climbed off you and hurriedly tugged his pants back up. Adjusting your dress, you checked your watch and sighed. "Great, you're two minutes behind schedule. You're not even mic'd up yet," you said, fishing out Roman's bottle of Jean-Paul Gaultier cologne from his backpack and giving the room a few quick spritzes to stifle the cloying scent of your latest sexscapade.

"Well, Pat's gonna have to wait," he answered flippantly as he raked his hair back into its trademark bun. He watched you reach for your underwear that had tangled around your foot and beat you to the punch, snatching up the tiny scrap of lingerie and tucking it into his back pocket.

"Roman!" you exclaimed.

"What? It's mine now," he declared, grabbing his gold championship belt and standing to his full height. You bit your lip as you drank him in, your gaze stopping between his sturdy thighs. You just had sex but you found yourself getting aroused again.

"Your dick print is still showing," you pointed out, licking your lips reflexively.

"Course it is, I got that thang on me," he bragged, smoothing his big hand over his groin, his body tingling from the memory of your delicious warmth. Noticing the heat in your eyes, he smiled that suggestive half-smile of his and tapped your backside. "Down, baby girl, Daddy's gotta go to work. You can have me all you want after TV tonight."

As you followed him out of the locker room and stepped into the cold sunshine, you caught the slightly pronounced limp in your man's walk, his glowing, kiss-swollen features, the extra width in his smile, and beamed with pride.

Yeah, I did that shit.

THE END

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

Another short one. Thoughts?

I have a few more Roman ones I'm working on and hope to get out soon.

Thank you all so much for reading!

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

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[diejager]

could I please request some dad Makarov content? there's like none out there and I think he'd actually be a good dad

I just wanna see him with his own cute little babies

Cw: fluff, ballerina, proud dad!Makarov, protective behaviour, tell me if I missed any. Note: every dialogue written in italic is spoken in Russian.

Your father was the loveliest person you knew. Vladimir Makarov may be an initimidating person with all his smarts and slyness, but he was soft and tender, a loving father and a caring provider to your life. He was all you’d known, you didn’t know your mother, your grandparents, your uncles and aunts, or any cousins, but all you needed was him, your father. He gave you all you needed and didn’t need, any wish or after though conjured up with his endless amount of money, pampering you with luxuries and comfort few knew.

You didn’t have friends, but you knew your father’s allies - he insisted that you called them allies because he’d never considered them friends. He told you that they were below him and you, dogs on a tight leash that would follow him as long as he gave them what he promised - they were prominent figures in your life, passing or stopping by Makarov’s well-fortified mansion to speak to him in his office, the one you once compared to a war room when you were young, your nose buried in fantasy books to fulfill your need to explore the world when all that was within your reach was inside your golden cage. 

The world on the other side of the wall was a stranger —a danger, your father mumbled to you at night, promising that he’d protect you as long as he still breathed. You were homeschooled, the bests academics invited to tutor you since you were young, from mathematics and literature to language and politics, you were taught by the best, in the little office Makarov kept renovating as you aged. He changed the desk, then the chair, and when the paint started yellowing, he had the whole room repainted in a soft sage to compliment your bright mind. You father was such a perfect parent that you hated disappointing him, you did all you could to reach his expectations and listened to his orders. 

“Мой изящный Лебедь,” he clapped his hands, his eyes gleaming proudly as he watched you twirl and dance in the polished floor of your home studio, “That was beautiful.” [My graceful Swan.]

Your black tutu rose as threw your leg up, twirling on the hard pad of your toes, giving your father a practice show for Cinderella. You always danced for him, letting him probe and give you advice and critiques of your form. Finishing the dance off with a low bow, your legs crossed and feet spread horizontally, you smiled joyfully at him when his claps grew louder. Rising up, your met him halfway, jumping into his arms when he spread them open, peppering your face with sweet and loving kisses, his scruffy beard itching you. 

“It was perfect, you make me so proud,” he held onto you, his warm hands running smoothly over your biceps, herding you out of the studio he had built to let you practice, “You deserve a gift, my little Swan. Is there anything you want?”

“Nothing you can buy me, papa, ” you shook your head, burying your face in his chest when he sat you down on the regal, red couch.

“Then?”

“I want to go see the flowers again, papa, when they’re in full bloom. Can we?”

A soft chuckle rumbled out of his chest, he breathed in your comforting scent, nose nuzzling your hairline with a smile, small and adoring for his sole child. 

“Yes, of course.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[iguana-eyanna]

To Have A Home

Pairing: Jack Reacher x Reader

Summary: Reacher never thought the white fence dream could ever happen to him, but you proved him wrong in more ways than possible.

Reacher got out of his pickup truck, taking out a few grocery bags. He stares at the house that he built from the ground up, inhaling the fresh air.

His footsteps could be heard from a mile away, as tiny footsteps were heard at the front of the wooden porch.

"Dad!" Reacher's oldest son, Georgie, screamed as he ran fast towards him.

Reacher smiled as he knelt down, the 7 year old running towards him.

"Hey bud! Oof, you're getting strong kid. You almost knocked out your old man." Reacher replied, carrying him in his free arm.

"Really Dad? I could be just as strong as you?" Georgie asked.

"Unless you eat all of your vegetables, Georgie, you can be just as big and strong as your father." A voice replied.

Reacher looks up sees you holding your four year old son, Mason, as you wore your signature summer dress that curved perfectly around your pregnant 6 month pregnant belly and barefoot.

Jack thought you were beautiful standing there.

He carried both his son and the groceries with ease as he walked towards the porch, giving you a sweet kiss.

"Hi," He said sweetly.

"Hey," You said, smiling.

One thing about Reacher was that he kept you feeling like a school girl falling in love for the first time. He never made you doubt his love for you and would move the sun just cause you asked him to.

You two walked inside as the kids ran to the living room, playing with their toys. You and Reacher went to the kitchen to prepare for dinnerr.

You began washing the vegetables in the sink while Reacher was getting the ingredients. Soon, you felt a pair of arms around your waist as Reacher's palm covered your belly. He kissed the side of your neck as you felt his prickly beard that he was growing out.

"How was work?" He asks as you place a loving hand on his cheek.

"It was good, had some important clients to meet today for the pitch."

"That's great. I'm so proud of you." He says, kissing your cheek.

Before you two started your family, Reacher said that he wanted to be a stay-at-home dad as he truly wanted to leave his scarred past. He would have never asked you to leave your profession, and you two have lived peacefully raising your kids.

"The boys didn't make any trouble? I would have taken them to the store."

"No, they knew not to mess with Mama Bear. I think they just give you a hard time on purpose."

Reacher fake gasps as he twirls you around.

"Are you saying they favor you over me?"

"Well, I did give birth to them and now pregnant with their sister so... Yes."

Jack throws a hearty laugh as he holds you as close as he can.

"and I'll remind you every day for making me a father to these great kids. I love you, Mrs. Reacher."

"and I love you, Mr. Reacher."

You two kissed as you tip-toed to reach his lips.

"Ewwwwwwwwww." Both your sons said in unison. you two look back and chuckle as your boys look at you two.

"Come here so we can give you kisses!" You teased.

"Noooooo!!!!" They screamed, running away as Jack chased them into the house as you followed.

Soon after eating dinner, both of your boys were sleeping in both your arms as all of you were watching a movie on the couch. Jack reached for the remote and turned off the TV.

"Let's take them to bed hon-"

He stops as he sees you snoring lightly as you hold Georgie. Reacher smiles as he slowly gets up picks up Mason and Georgie and tucks them in bed. He returns for you and carries you with ease back in the master bedroom.

He lies next to you as you slowly open your eyes, realizing where you are, and smile at him.

"I thought of a name today, for the baby."

"Oh yeah? What is it?" He asks.

You scoot closer to him, placing your head by his chest as his heartbeat soothed you.

"Sky Reacher. I want her to know that she's able to reach for the sky."

Jack smiles brightly and kisses the top of your head.

"I love that name."

Jack couldn't believe it. In the past several years, all he carried along with him was the clothes on his back and a toothbrush. And now, he's lying in bed with a gorgeous, hard-working woman who mothered his children.

This is what it must feel like to have a home.

[holylulusworld]

Aged Well

Summary: It’s your man’s birthday.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x fem!Reader

Warnings: a little angst, fluff, birthdays

Thanks to @buckys-wintersoldier for the brainstorming. :)

A/N: Happy Birthday to Sebastian Stan, our Romanian menace.

Another year older. Another year closer to getting old.

Sebastian knows he should be happy. His career is going great. He’s got a dedicated fanbase. And in the room next door, his girlfriend is waiting for him to celebrate his birthday.

Still, he stands in front of the mirror, looking for the first wrinkles. Sebastian steps closer to get a better look at the first grey hairs in his beard.

“No, not yet,” he gasps and runs his fingertips over his beard. Sebastian frowns deeply. This can’t be. He can’t handle grey in his beard today.

“Babe, are you ready?” You stop in your tracks to drink your boyfriend’s outfit in. He’s wearing a black Balenciaga tuxedo, a white suit shirt, and a black tie. His hair is neatly gelled back, but he kept his beard. He looks stunning, or rather like he is dressed to kill. “Baby?” Licking your lips you stare at him.

“I’ve got grey in my beard,” he complains while running his fingers over his beard. Sebastian turns his head to look at you. “Do you think I should shave it off to look younger?”

“What?” You were too engrossed in checking him out in his tuxedo to listen to him. “Did you say something about your beard?” You dreamily look at his beard.

“Do you think I should shave it to look younger?”

You violently shake your head. “No! I like your beard. It’s a nice beard,” you protest and immediately defend his beard. “I like the grey in your beard. It makes you look ever hotter.”

His eyes widen. “Did you see it too? Why didn’t you say something?”

You step closer to grab his face and press a chaste kiss on his lips. “I love the beard and how it feels when we kiss,” you snicker and kiss him again, “and more. I dare you to shave it off.”

He grins, eyes darkening at your words. “You like it? The grey too?”

“Very much,” you purr his name, hands still holding his face. “Let me try again.” You kiss him deeply and softly, earning a moan. “It makes you look like a hot silver fox.”

He laughs deep and rich. “You want me to be your silver fox, prinţesă (princess)? How bad do you want me to be your sexy silver fox?”

You giggle at his playfulness. He smiles widely and grabs you by your waist. “So bad, Sebby,” you peck his lips between murmured love confessions.

Sebastian grins. He looks at you, a twinkle in his eyes. “I guess we could skip the reservation and unpack my gifts. right now.”

You smile, not disappointed to skip dinner to have him all for yourself tonight. “I don’t mind. Let me get your gifts.”

“Oh, prinţesă,” he leans closer to purr your name. You giggle and squeal when he twirls you around to push you onto the bed.

“I was thinking about a different kind of gift...”

Tags in reblog.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

hiiii, I'm new here. saw that your reqs r closed but I'd like to share one scenario idea. the choice is yours whether to write it or not.

Daniel (or Carlos) is your bff. You see each other rarely because of his career. It's summer break, he's back home and you've just had your heartbroken by an asshole. You convince you friend group that you need to go out & celebrate Daniel's (or Carlos') comeback in the hope of getting laid. As the night goes on the driver is more n more frustrated with the guys you choose. He get a lil too much to drink n becomes possessive of you, starts touching you intimately and doesn't care about people surrounding. The night ends in a bedroom where he fucks you slow and sensually like he thinks you deserve and none of those jackasses in the club could

hope you've a nice vacation

Peace out ✌🏾

This is for Carlos since Daniel hasn't gotten rid of that moustache yet

Red Flags || CS55

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, oral, friends to lovers WC: 2.4k

It hurt a little that the first notification you received that Carlos was back home came from a gossip page you followed. Maybe it shouldn’t come as such a surprise when a distance had grown after you started dating Marco, you weren’t sure if Carlos even knew what had happened since the last time you spoke to him. Your families were close, but even your parents were reluctant to speak to anyone about the breach of privacy your ex had caused, the photos he had tried to leak. It had cost a huge sum to keep them from being published and you had been trying to get over the betrayal since.

Recent coping methods included the company of your friends and the string of nightclubs that lined the beachfront.

“I picked up a stray,” Liana called out as she walked into your house without knocking. You could always count on your friend to be up for a party and she had accepted the invite before anyone else. You stuck your head out of the living room where you had been pouring yourself a stiff drink and found her arm curled around the back of Carlos. “A handsome one too.”

You couldn’t believe it had been nearly six months since you last saw him and it looked like he had somehow matured even more. His beard had filled out to cover his entire jaw and his hair was lush and dark. 

Excitement filled you and you rushed towards him as he opened his arms with a smile. “Carlito!” 

“Bomboncita,” he replied with a laugh, his strong arms tightening around you as he picked you up and twirled in a circle. “Missed you too.”

“Come out with us, let’s celebrate your win!” You didn’t wait for an answer as you rushed back to get your clutch with your ID and cash.

“She just wants to get laid,” Liana whispered to Carlos. “You can help me keep her away from any red flags.”

There was one thing you could always count on and that was Liana to be the mother of the group. More mature than the rest of your friends put together, she always made sure you got home safe. Everyone else lived in the city but the mansion your parents had given you was out on the coast, thankfully she was more than happy to sober drive for you. Unfortunately, the only cars on the driveway were two seater sports cars.

That was how you ended up starting your night sitting on Carlos’ lap.

“This reminds me of old times, bombón,” he murmured as you looped an arm around his neck and held on tight. 

“I don’t know how you passed basic maths,” you shot back with a laugh before looking at Liana. “He would always invite more people than we have seats for during the summer break.”

Liana shook her head with a smirk. “Maybe he just liked having you on his lap.”

“What guy wouldn’t,” you joked, well accustomed to the years of teasing over your close friendship with Carlos. But for all the times you sat in this very position, he had never seen you as more than a friend. 

“Should we stop her?” Carlos asked, a quiet growl in his words as he watched you dance with another man. Your hips were too enticing, too sexy, and he had to look away to down his drink and quench the sudden thirst he had. 

Liana didn’t seem fazed by your ability to hook a man in with a seductive smile and dance with them until Carlos interrupted or they said something that made you push them away. 

“No way, she deserves to have some fun after what happened with Marco.”

He placed the empty glass on the bartop and turned his attention to Liana, a frown etched into his forehead. “What happened with Marco?” 

“Oh, she should probably be the one to tell you. I thought you knew.”

A woman in a very low cut dress slipped between Liana and Carlos, interrupting their conversation as she placed a hand on his arm. “You’re that driver, right? Want to dance?”

Carlos shook his head with a polite ‘no thanks’ and brushed her hand off his, rubbing the spot on his sleeve to erase the feel of her touch. “What did he do, Lee?”

The tone left no arguing and Liana chewed her lip nervously before giving in and leaning closer so no one overheard. 

Rage burned through Carlos in a way he had never felt before. He had felt anger, sure, frustration too, but this was white hot and liquid molten in his veins, deep in his core. He was lucky that Marco wasn’t in the same city or he would surely be finding himself on the wrong side of the law at that moment.

Carlos didn’t even realise he had crossed the room until his fist bunched into the shirt of the man holding you close and he pushed the stranger away, ignoring the protests he made. 

“Carlito!” you giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Dance with me.”

Some of the fire eased as your fingers twirled the strands of hair at his nape and his hands came to rest naturally on your hips as he pulled you closer. “We have a lot of catching up to do, bomboncita.”

You looked up as the odd tone cut through your buzz and immediately knew what he knew. His own eyes were a little unfocused and you could smell the whiskey on his breath, not helping him to control his emotions. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The air hissed between your teeth as you sucked in a breath and dipped your chin down so you didn’t have to look him in the eyes. “You would have said I told you so.”

His hand slipped away from your body and you missed the heat of it instantly but then it was cradling your throat, his thumb pushing your chin back up and forcing you to connect with his dark irises. “I told you he wasn’t good for you, he wouldn’t treat you how you deserve.”

“Carlito...” It was a familiar argument every time you had a boyfriend. He would always find reasons to dislike them.

“Listen, please, bombón,” he said as he took a step closer so every inch of his body was flush against yours. His lips brushed your cheek as he turned your head away and whispered the secret he had kept all these years. “Let me show you how you should be treated.”

Surprise filled you and you licked your dry lips at the thought of what he was implying. “Here?” you asked breathlessly and his laugh warmed your cheek.

“No, bombón,” he all but purred as he teased the column of your neck with his nose and his hands danced over the curve of your ass. “What I want to do to you…no, not here.”

His eyes narrowed at someone behind you and you turned to see it was someone you had been dancing with earlier. You couldn’t remember his name, or maybe he hadn’t even told you it, either way you had no interest in taking the drink he offered.

“Red flag, mate,” Carlos growled as he pulled you under his arm and put himself between you and the stranger. “Walk away.”

The man wisely walked away and you laughed as you stepped back into Carlos’ arms. He had held you a thousand times over your long friendship but the way he held you now, possessive and jealous, it changed everything. There was no going back to how it used to be. 

“I kind of like this new you,” you teased as you danced with him, turning in his arms and rocking your hips in time to the beat. “So commanding, Carlito, why don’t you try it on me?”

His lips cocked up in a smirk that you saw as you peeked over your shoulder and dragged his hands down your body. “Because you’ve never listen to anything I say.”

Turning to face him, you looped your arms around his neck and brushed your lips softly over his before you could change your mind. “Maybe you just never said what I wanted to hear.”

Carlos swallowed as he saw your pupils dilate with lust and the thin material of your dress did little to hide the fact you wore no bra beneath it, your peaked nipples begging him to take them in his mouth. “We need to leave,” he groaned as he squeezed your ass and bit his lip, “before I get us both into a lot of trouble.”

You barely remembered to thank Liana for dropping you off at home. You barely remembered the drive when every ounce of your brain capacity was spent trying to behave yourself while you sat on Carlos’ lap. You tried to keep still on the corners but you felt his hard length beneath you with each turn and squirm.

It seemed to take forever for Liana to finally pull into your driveway and your foot tapped the tile floor impatiently while she drove off and you slapped the button on the wall to close the gates. You didn’t wait to see them close as Carlos’ lips were on yours and his feet led the way blindly through your home. 

Your bed was a mess. You hadn’t planned on bringing a stranger back to your place, but Carlos was no stranger, in fact, he knew you better than anyone ever could or would. He smiled knowingly as he laid you down on the sheets, kneeling between your legs as they parted for him.

His shirt had been abandoned somewhere on the stairs, your dress along the hallway, his trousers at the foot of your bed. You had seen him in this state of undress before, when you would sneak out as teenagers and go for midnight swims in the bay, but the moonlight had left the memory faded. In the light of your room, his skin glowed and shadows highlighted the dips of his defined muscles that lined his body. It was like seeing him in colour for the very first time.

“Are you okay, bombón?” he asked as his fingers danced down your legs lightly, tickling your skin and leaving goosebumps behind until he reached your heels. His thick fingers shouldn’t have been able to remove the delicate clasps so gracefully but he eased each shoe off before massaging the aching soles of your feet. “You look like you are thinking too hard.”

“I am thinking you are going way too slow,” you teased. His thumb hit the right spot in your arch and a moan parted your lips while he chuckled at your reaction.

“I told you, princesa, I’m going to show you how you deserve to be treated.” Tantilisingly slowly, he massaged his way up your legs, devoting his time to your relaxation until you were putty in his hands. Your legs were trembling in anticipation when his thumbs finally reached the laced edge of your panties and he let out an unsteady breath at the damp patch darkening the material. You lifted your hips for him as he hooked his fingers into the waistband and dragged them down your legs. “I want to taste you, princesa.”

“Please, Carlos,” you begged as he licked his full lips enticingly.

You recognised the look in his eyes, the one that told you to be patient and the groan that had been building morphed into a gasp when he grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his thigh. The pressure was teasing and you rocked your hips wanting more as he blanketed you with his body and sealed his lips around your breast. 

“Fuck,” you moaned as his tongue flicked over your nipple, sending bolts of lightning to your core as you tightened your legs around his thigh and combed your fingers into his hair. “Oh god, do that again.”

He was more than happy to follow your command and you felt like your body would ignite beneath him. He sensed the change in your body as your breathing laboured and a sweat broke out across your skin. “Not yet,” he warned as he kissed his way up your neck and captured your lips in a blistering kiss. “I want to taste you when you come, princesa.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you shamelessly rode his thigh, the pressure building. “Then you better hurry up.”

A whimper escaped with the disappearance of his leg but when you opened your eyes you were struck by his dark ones, watching you watch him make his way down your body. You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt him blow a cold breeze over your skin and you shivered as he warmed it again with his tongue. 

“I’m starting to think you get off on teasing me,” you whispered with a strained voice. 

“I simply get off on you,” he replied just as quietly.

The questions you had were erased with the leisurely stroke of his tongue, tasting you for the first time. He hummed at the reward he had earned with his teasing and his fingers gripped your thighs tighter as he held you spread open for him to devour. 

The room filled with the sweet sounds that clawed from your throat as your head swum and your legs quivered. The salacious song grew louder when Carlos curled one finger into your cunt, then two. He pumped his digits as his tongue circled your clit and together they threw you over the edge and you came with undulating waves that rocked your body against his lips.

“Carlito…” you panted as he lapped at your dripping folds, indulging in the decadence he had been craving for years.

“I love you,” he admitted as he rose above you.

You reached for his face, your thumb tracing the shape of his swollen lips that were still shiny with your arousal. “I love you too.”

“No more red flags,” he said as he lined himself with your entrance. “You’re mine, princesa.”

“I’m yours,” you echoed as you pulled his face to yours and sealed the promise with a kiss.

“You always have been.”

[rel124c41]

IN ALL MY DREAMS I DROWN. poly!octotrio

Husband/Captain says the best medicine is sleep. You plead and beg with him to find another remedy. "I know what is best for you," Husband/Captain says.

tags: mythical beings & creatures, references to scottish folklore, seasickness, implied/referenced abuse, prophetic dreams, blood and violence, forced marriage, rape/non-con elements, no abuse done by octotrio, eventual happy ending, rescue mission, & happy mermay

word count: 6,690

There is a storm on the horizon. Alas, that is normal. Your husband has terrible luck with sailing.

Truthfully, it has felt for as long as you have breathed, you have breathed in the calmness before a storm. Anticipation for something awful on your tongue. Dry, warm air before a storm hits in your lungs. There is always a storm on the horizon. You have never seen another type of sky while sailing. 

Dark clouds pile onto each other like stones. Icy blue and cold black spreads across the south like rivulets of oil. There is a faint tingling in the air. You look down. So deeply tired, the motion almost causes your eyes to lock close – like when a rocker-eyed doll is tilted. Blankets of goosebumps sleep on your arms. You know with sighed resignation that the upcoming weather will be one of the worser ones you have experienced.

No matter how many waves you sail upon, your husband cannot escape the looming storms, try as he might.

In your hand, you hold a lantern. It walks with you. Burning brightly, it works effectively to prod off the combined darkness of night and storm. Hypotonic red and yellow twirls over each other. A caged calamity which sways somniferous with each step you take. 

This is the forty-second time you have paced the entirety of the ship. From stern to bow, croaking wood weeps under your aimless poltergeist motions. Some cuckoo clocks, upon the stroke of each hour, release little trapped dolls to dance and spin in circles upon the stroke of each hour. You are quite similar to them. Except, you are a doll in a broken cuckoo clock who works its dancers tirelessly. Spinning and spinning, stern to bow, then again, stern to bow, repeat, stern to bow.

With each step, the fire in your lantern sways like a hypnotist's watch, undulating red and yellow. 

You have been awake for two days so far. However, you only walk at night to fend off sleepiness. In the daylight, you keep yourself busy with menial tasks. Walking helps to fight off the sleep before it envelopes and rains upon you.

Yet, it seems you are making too much noise with your endless pacing. Your scolding comes with the cry of a single creak. The wooden door of the captain’s cabin opens. 

Eyes once up to absorb the sight of the creeping storm, the layout of the ship, and any sight you wanted to see suddenly drop down.  Eyes now on the floorboards, you listen to the pitter of feet marching down steps. Wind howls in your ears and rakes through your hair. Endless pacing comes to a sudden halt. With retreating eyes, you stand by the shrouds. 

When a pair of boots enter your eyesight, thorns wrap around your heart. Panic settles in when he speaks, “Another sleepless night, my dear?”

You have no idea what your husband looks like. Never gathering the bravery to look up and with him never having the want to tilt your chin up, neither of you have made eye contact. His face is like tenebrous darkness casted by storm. Numerous features could lay on it. Numerous possibilities yet no answers. No beard though; you know this when he places a palacting kiss on your forehead where your brain stews with undreamed dreams. No coarse hair tickles your skin.

However, your husband knows what you look like. Taller than you, stronger than you. Knowing your features and face shape in this uneven marriage, that is his right in nuptial laws. Spouses should submit to their husband, he told you when the ship first departed from the dock of your hometown.

Though, you cannot remember your hometown. Or really anything before him. 

All of your life (because you must have had one) before him is blank like empty waters. From the Memory Sea, you search desperately for something. No matter how many lines you cast out, all you pull up is stringy, golden brown kelp or thick, ebony black kombu. The fishing rod of your desperation cannot possibly successfully make a catch in empty waters. How foolish of you to even cast a line, Husband/Captain would tease.

You know him only as your husband. He never gave you his name. You heard the men under his command call him captain. He adopts two names on your tongue, Husband/Captain; though you hardly use either.

You hardly address him first. He addresses you.

“My dear (Name),” a finger oscillates gently on your cheekbone. “I do not think the moon is as lonely as I am without you in bed. I miss you.” When you move your head to the side in shame, the finger guides you firmly to look at him – or at least his shoes. 

“Speak.”

Lips feeling looser, you weigh your next words carefully. What can you possibly say this time around? Is there anything left to say? Fitful in your resolve, your eyes travel to take in the pulsing glow of your lantern and how it illuminates different colors. The image paints itself in your memory: the empty lantern that is devoid of anything but a pile of ash, the chest in the corner which you are not allowed to open, the bed with its silky sheets that inundate you with dreams of drowning. 

You dream of drowning every time you sleep. When your head hits the pillow, it is like falling into a bottomless puddle that goes much deeper than anticipated. Idiosyncrasy to yourself, you are only one of this swaying ship that fears the reality of drowning.

Below your feet, almost breathing, the ship rocks back and forth. It feels like you imagine how it feels to be rocked gently by a mother. Maternally, even the ship wishes for you to sleep. The captain and his vessel conspiring against you together.

But – you cannot – so you must bargain some way to stay awake until the vessel docks. “I was … I was growing a bit uneasy over the storm. And I could not –.”

Husband/Captain hums and you know to immediately fall silent. 

The pattern of the lantern handles indents in your hand. Digging steel hurts like a bad punishment. What a silly excuse. For two months all you have known is encroaching storms, why would you suddenly develop an anxiety over them now? You look out upon the ebony, mature cumulonimbus clouds. 

“Isn’t there an old saying: out of sight, out of mind. I’m positive that watching it does little to quell this uneasiness,” he says.

If anything a rainstorm would be a blessing, diverting his attention from you.

“If I’m aware of it, it helps dispel that anxiety. If I’m away from it, not watching it, I feel quite worried about what could happen.”

“I share that sentiment. I’m quite anxious with you out of my sight.”

So it seems, you think, so it really seems. Your husband has pulled you away from the ship’s railings on multiple occasions, hand a shackle on your wrist, reeling you back onboard. Staying within his sight is an unspoken wedding vow.

You tense prematurely, already knowing his next words. You have lost for the night. Oh, how you have lost deeply. “I don’t want to sleep tonight … please … –” in all my dreams, I drown. But you cannot talk anymore because –

“Now hush, love,” Husband/Captain coos. 

“Here’s your gown.” 

What he holds out to you is rivulets of soft cotton. A sleeveless gown with fragile, ornamented straps which will hang gently on your shoulders. The pattern is a delicate stitch like doyle napkins and a little bow rests on the chest’s center. Ending at the shin, white lace replicates the look of distance waves, twisting up and down.

You take it within your scarred arms. Diagonal slashes racing down and then another group of diagonal scars racing up coat your forearms. Memory Sea has yet to unveil how you got these scars.

“Please,” you plead. It takes so much bravery to say that one word that you feel winded after.

Your head is patted in fruitless consolation.

The captain is not happy about today’s catch. Not happy is really too subtle of a way to put it. He boils with a rage known of a tyrant’s disposition, body exploding into a mess of volcano-esque fire. It is a strange sight to the men. What they pulled up from their nets would feed the crew without the need of rationing. Their catch was bountiful; what is there to be possibly upset about?

It is because all they caught is codfish. Codfish pyramiding upon codfish. A family reunion of hundreds of generational codfish. Oh, and one common ling. Which he took from the nets, it serpentine amber and white body oscillating in hand, as he howls at his crew, “A fucking ling! A ling!”

Eyes down, you had a perfect view of the ling being dropped to the floorboards and the captain raising his boot to mallet it down upon the fish’s head. Red and white puss splattered in a gory firework, piscine epidermis popping loudly. 

Then, the captain stomped off, leaving a one-footed trail of red behind him. 

Antipaction and questions lingered in the eyes of the crew. The crew looked upon you with high expectations. Well, aren’t you going to follow the yellow-brick road, the red footprint trail? Weren’t you going to head into the captain’s cabin and help your husband – lie on the bed, stomach down, as he punched fireworks into you, until he worked out his anger? This ship’s crew really has no delicate manner of speaking with their eyes.

Averting your eyes, sheepish, you shake your head. You are not inclined to want pain. Fleeing, you took to entering the kitchen to cook, growing ill at the sight of nets.

Nets. Just the cross-hatching pattern could make you feel consumptive. Like your stomach is empty or your stomach is bloated, it makes you so incredibly sickly to watch the crew pull up their meshwork that cradles school upon school of fishes. 

Upon your forearms are scars, scars of an identical pattern.

When the men take to dumping their catch into a circular, steel tank that is about the size of a Queen bed, you thank them in a whisper. Looking into their eyes is like falling off a cliff, missing the water, and landing upon a bed of jagged stones. Eyes like stone, not resentful but still dangerous. You work to keep your head down until they all leave. 

With the captain so vexed, you delegate yourself to preparing his meal first. The rest of the crew can wait until mid-afternoon. So, you prepare a dredging station with quick work. Find a shallow bowl, cut the lemon, mix together a double serving of spices with the flour. Your husband is fond of sharp herbs mixed in with fish.

You have learned to cook with his guidance.  He likes to say, “A country’s cuisine reflects their culture and history. It’s a fascinating field of study.” Then, fingers guide you with firm resolve to work upon dicing, cutting, and slicing. 

Now, you are almost a veteran at preparing fish. Mostly codfish, though you would have longed to experiment with a ling – you remember the pomace of oozing brains and otoliths, multiple streaks of red like lightning on the floor. 

But you suppose you are not allowed to. It is probably for the best. Staying with your routine. 

Seasonings scenting the air, you hear your stomach growl. Ah. Perhaps just a bite won’t hurt.

Triple-checking, you make certain that none of the crew lingers by the kitchen. No curious eyes are peeking through the window. When you are assured in your resolve, down to the bone and up to the skin, you crouch down by the bucket. Into the pool of threshing codfish, your hand swims. 

The one you take out is a medium-sized portion. Green and yellow skin a similar hue of summer moss. As it squirms wildly, you turn it belly-side up. It takes a great deal of effort with such dull teeth. Yet, after a bit gnawing, the piscine epidermis finally breaks with a loud pop in your omnivorous mouth. 

Rotating it around like corn-on-the-cob, you munch down upon the live and raw codfish with ravenous hunger.

A fortnight after, you wake up gasping for breath. Saliva is like a second tongue in your mouth, overcrowding. Unhesitant, you turn over the edge of the bed and wait for a soup of briny seaweed, torrential waves, and a codfish to splatter upon the captain’s bedroom floor. A single jellyfish tail of bubbly saliva is all that hits the ground. 

Lungs so incredibly strained cannot comprehend where all the water went. 

Coughing, you cringe against the sensation of water in your mouth. The natural lubricant of saliva is suffocating, pressing hard on the walls of your buccal cavity. 

And though your lungs kick painfully, there is nothing more to spit out the tiny dime of water already spat out. Coughs come and go until they ebb to you panting softly in bed. Fatigued breaths eventually wither, to you just breathing steadily and staring off to the only light source. 

Pointed spirals of light move in a kaleidoscope pattern. Leather red brightens to a bloody crimson. Rich blue wood absorbs the glow. You are a bit unsure what is really rocking back and forth, swaying with such somnolence: the boat itself or the chest where a star is locked inside.

The chest you are not allowed to open. 

In your ears, you hear the ocean gnash and moan.

Blech and blarghhh. Blech and blarghhh, you go. 

Over the bow of the ship, you puke. 

Bile falls heavy into the awaiting waves below. One teary, squinting eye watches the pallid greenish-yellow sludge sink.  Your nose is sour by the scent of imaginary citrus oranges; your head is a spinning dreidel.  On the night of your three month anniversary on the ship, you woke up from another drowning dream with a secondary heart heavy in your throat. Prisoned, it banged and banged for release. So, you rushed up to the bow and granted its plea for freedom. 

To the sea, let me go to the sea, your bile begged. And you listened. 

A powerful blech and blarghhh has you stumbling feverishly. Your feet skid on wood like a lynched cowboy’s who kicks fruitlessly to feel solid ground. Stomach and railing biting each other, you lean far with the force of your next hurl. Far enough where you too could fall into the awaiting waves below.

Your heart spikes because you realize, puke only halfway out and face winking in agony, that you are falling in. You have gone far enough. Cerulean waters seem to reach out in an awaiting embrace.

Just as your feet start to lift from the ground, the saltine noose around your neck pulling, a hand wraps gently yet firm against your waist. You gasp wetly, bile lipstick thick, as you find yourself back on solid ground.

“Easy there. Easy. I got you,” Husband/Captain murmurs. He presses a kiss to your neck but does not hold your hair back when you gurgle again. Throat fluctuating with heaving breaths, he lies his nose on that weeping patch of skin. Salt is thick on you. “Sudden sea-sickness will pass. Happens even to the veteran sailors.”

Not this extreme, you want to argue. You are too cowardly to object. And besides … Vomit acts as a reliable tape over your hatred. You wish his hand would stop rubbing a thumb on your stomach and instead gather up tendril-esque hair. 

“Though I would have never expected you to succumb to such an illness,” he says, awestruck as if you are breaking some bodily law. The thumb on your stomach becomes more pressing. “Perhaps … perhaps it is not the matter of the seas that turns your stomach so.”

You realize with a cold sweat what he is referencing. “It is not that.” A helpful hand (your own) rises up to start wiping off the pallid greenish-yellow cosmetic. Fingers fling and flick the remains of your regurgitating stomach into the waves. 

“I would be able to tell.”

“Is that possible,” his voice doubts. “How could you?”

“Of course I could. It’s my body.”

Husband/Captain chuckles like you have told a funny joke. Now it is not his sole thumb that oscillates back and forth on the skin of your nightgown, he opens up his hand like a flower. He takes to rubbing your stomach until his hand goes down to cradle the spot between your legs. 

You wish the ocean would take you. 

The night sky is full of stars. Stars are a rarity. You never get to see them often because of how normal it is for your husband’s ship to be caught in a storm. Tonight, all is tranquil. Tonight, you are in the embodiment-al heart of the calm before the storm. And, lastly, tonight, you will try something new and exciting. You will use those pinpricks of light to paint pictures; you doubt anyone has ever thought of such a fabulous game before. 

It takes a while for you to get into the groove of it. When there is this strange, thrusting force behind you, bile pops out your lips like blood. Stars align to make a teddy bear, fashioned with a little bow. When your tears fall into the awaiting waves, they catch them with so much tender sorrow. 

There is a melody in the air. A little different from blech and blarghhh. Far different from the harsh hit of his hips. It howls below you.  Water licking on the side of the ship seems to say: dont worry dont worry i will save you. 

When you strike the match, it hisses and balloons with a fierce flame before shrinking down to something petite, something weaker. With great care, you press the match through the open lantern panel. It transforms with a fiery jump. 

You stick the match between your lips once you wave it in the air harshly, killing it. Lantern panels now all closed, you hold it up to illuminate the revolutionary sight before you. It has been a day and three months … you have to know what’s in there. The rich blue box sits in your path with all the magnetism of precise metals. You crouch before it, nun-like.

The top of the wooden chest is an arch, so you rest your lantern to the side. Out of your sock, you pull two fishbones – ones you had cleaned down with your tongue and whittled down to points with a kitchen knife. 

You cannot remember anything of your life before this boat. Against his wishes, you have been trying to remember what could have been of you before this boat. The storybook must have more pages, a prologue of sorts left unsaid. This boat … nothing but him lives your memory. Hand outstretched like thorns, sand, snakes, poison, fire, and nightmares. A hand that puts a glittering circlet on your ring finger. Your first memory is being wed. 

Into the mouth of the lock, you slowly slide in the first fishbone. Behind you, the sound of a blanket hitting the floor thumps. Thin and fragile, the fishbone snaps halfway in the lock as you rise to your feet – and you rush, hand just managing to grab the lantern, as a raging storm at your back runs at you.

“YOU UNFAITHFUL FUCK!”

You run up the stairs three at a time, heart jackrabbiting with fear.  

Tears are already in your eyes before you comprehend them. Your hand depresses on the door. Wood clatters and shakes with tremendous rage below you, growing closer. Run away, you scream at yourself, just as you realize there's nowhere to run to. When the door opens, water pelts your face in a thousand exploding fists. 

This is the closest the storm has ever been. But it was clear yesterday ? – calm before a –?

A scream tears from you as a reaching hand misses your arm, his dirty nails almost tickling the goosebumps coating your skin. With reckless abandon, you jump down the flight of seven stairs just outside of the cabin. The deck catches you with all the care wooden arms have – which is very little. Wide yet still finite, the deck faces off with you in the fierce, piercing rain. Where to escape to, it asks, as violent waves rock below. 

Left knee bleeding and a section of your nightgown ripped, you sprint towards the bow. And from the south, a savage, ravening storm follows. Dark clouds pile over. Icy blue lunges.  Maybe it would not be so bad to fall off the edge. Is that what all those ceaseless dreams of drowning meant — you have to drown to finally be at peace? 

An ethery scent explodes in the rain. The marriage of the sounds of breaking glass and petrified screaming kisses in the gusty air.  In the blimp of chaos, both of you hit the floor, right next to where fire from a broken lantern starts to eat up the wood.

“No … No, please,” you cry. “Please no!” 

By his hateful hands, you are turned on your side. Before you can make eye contact, he punches you across the face with an intensity reserved for crewmen in brawls. The wind howls mournfully in your ringing ears. Blood pops out of your mouth in tiny lightning bolts. 

As ringing and blustery winds ebb in sound, you catch the last of your husband’s words, “...I know what is best for you.”

“Scold or hit me! I cannot go back to sleep! Please!”

He grabs your head in a vitriol grip. Acid burns pierce where his fingers dig in. Husband/Captain lifts you by his hold on your head, like a lion might do with a cub by the scruff of its neck. Eyes stomp shut in fear. You fear the intensity of his face will overwhelm and drown you. 

“Help me! Someone! Please, help me!”

“Now hush, love.”

“SOMEONE! ANYBODY PLEASE –!”

“Here’s your gown.” Then, he slams your body on the ground. Your head cracks with the fragility of an egg.  Molten dreams with rainbowing incandescence slip out from the lightning-shaped fractures, spilling all over deck. 

The moon is full tonight. 

You feel in your bones that you have not seen a full moon in a very long time. Despite it being a monthly occurrence, storm clouds shield it away; even when unveiled, the nude moon is caught waning or waxing. This phase of the lunar sun kisses uncloudy skies with a powerful completeness. How you missed it with a whirlpool fervor. You feel so at peace.

A silver eye not missing any weight or heft. Hanging on a vertex, it hums with the sprinkling song of moondust and moonlight. With that melody, it shaves the weight of weakness that has shackled you. Avoirdupois lightens; the full moon brightens.

I have not seen a full moon this serene since I was a little boy/girl, you remember that much.  It is such a wondrous sight that you do not notice the water rising up by your ankles. 

No – not water, bedsheets. Bedsheets that snake serpentine like individual rivers connecting together. With a fluidity unique to water, white linen slithers across the curve of your calf and climbs up in gusts of silk to the tendons in your hamstrings. Moisture still clings to you; dry sheets juxtaposingly soaking you.

I am going to drown again. You frown delicately at the sentiment. Yet, despite the acknowledgement that watery suffocation is going to repeat itself, you think this time it will be a metamorphosis. Something different from previous dreams. 

You only think this because moondust and moonlight hug your slowly submerging body and tell it to you. Reassures you of it, to wade off fear of drowning.

Sheets climb up to your sternum. With rocking motions, they purl and lick at your shoulders. Ribbons weaving in and out of each other, pulsing up in gigantic breaths to climb upon you. Cloth falls over your mouth and silences you. Tendrils of linen rush into your nostrils. You keep your breath for as long as you can. As the bedsheets engulf you, you keep your eyes trained upon the full moon.

A silver eye not missing any weight or heft. Complete. I want to be complete again. 

Once fully submerged, you open your eyes. There is a tentacle in front of your face.

There is a tentacle in front of your face. It lies on its side. Facing you like how two lovers might turn to pillow-talk at one another. About as thick as an elephant leg, it stretches fully across the deck, dipping down into unseen depths over each side of the ship. 

Suckers squirm like a breathing wall before you. Voluminous in numbers. Almost replicating plasma barnacles of the underside of aquatic vessels. Individual suckers purl and roll with fake breaths. Fluctuating up and down in uneven patterns, unorganized hive mind motions. Most of them were a vibrant lavender yet – like moles on a wrinkled face – cheetah spots of violet-whitish squirms in slower beats. Moving like bubbling lava, lavender stirs and beckons. 

You cannot resist. Pushing your hand upon the breathing wall, you breathe in the scent of salt.

There is an ocean beneath the surface. Blood and plasma swims warmly underneath the skin. Despite the cold and salty water that falls like tears over shells of suckers, there is a warmth. An alive warmth. 

It cannot wrap itself around you; this particular tentacle is wrapped from one edge of the boat to the other like a behemoth bow strangling a Christmas present. However, touch is reciprocated in other methods. Like an expanding stomach, lavender pushes into your starfish spread out fingers. Suckers harmonize in a circle around the area where you put pressure. 

Hypnotic, eldritch beauty finds primitive comfort in you. Even though the side of your head is still sticky with clotting blood, you think you feel comfort too. It is only ripped from you when a crewman shouts, “God, help us all! A Kraken! By God, a Kraken!” 

Beyond the goliath, shielding tentacle, the ship and its crew are in discord. And once it reaches your ears, awareness of it crawls into all your other senses. Drawing away from the tentacle, you realize while standing up that the scent of ether in your nose is overwhelming. Half of the deck is engulfed in flames. Warmth from fire blankets you in heavy sheets. And –

“Someone! Anybody please –!!” And men are being dragged off the boat and killed by twisting, gnashing tentacles. 

The boat tilts. Stumbling feet are magnetized backwards; you trip over the tentacle you were just touching. A shriek that pains the wound on the side of your head erupts from you as you are rolled across the deck like a dice across a game-board. 

Your tentacle (the one you caressed) does not reach to steady or save you. Instead, it squeezes tentatively on the vessel ensnared in its grip. Splintering wood spreads up like a field of pointy grass. Then, after a moment, it slithers back into the ocean just as your spine hits the railing of the tilting ship. 

Over your shoulder, you see a raging sea. Waves curve into each other, resounding claps of exploding water striking your ears. Above, bullets of water clip fast upon the awaiting ocean. That familiar saltine noose reemerges around your neck, as your feet lift with gravity. Everything happens in a millisecond and in an eternity, dream-esque.

Your knees hit the deck when a hand pushes you away from the edge. You suck in deep breaths in a panic, prematurely housing oxygen away before you were doomed to fall in. But you had not fallen in … because … because there was a hand. Sprawled on the wet and burning deck, both elbows down on the ground, you turn over your shoulder one final time. 

His hair is the color of the sea. You never expected to see hair a different shade than black, brown, or blonde, perhaps a rare red, but his is breathtakingly blue. Coping, your mind fixates on it because you cannot comprehend the three-points of fins growing where his ears should be. There must be a mystified expression on your face regardless. The man smiles at you with covetous patience. 

“Hello, (Name). I wanted to be first to say on behalf of us, we are terribly sorry for our delay.”

Delay? “I don’t understand.”

“Do not stress. A great deal will soon resolve itself. Are you hungry? Can I do anything for you?”

Kindness is far more alien to you than the sight of piscine traits that your mouth falls open in a tiny circle. Words fail to form. Just as your bottom lip starts to quiver, the man amends, “Is there perhaps something you don’t want me to do?”

Meekly: “Do – Don’t go.” Apologetically (and quickly too): “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that.” 

Desperately, you wish you had something to hide in but all that you wear is a slim cotton gown. It is innate to leech onto goodwill after such a drought of it. An amused warmth settles of his features, then it softly falls into a deep sadness. Once more, you fumble for words, upset that you have upset him … “I’m sorry – I –!”

A loud noise breaks the moment. There is a pyramid of hundred or so noises caterwauling in this storm, mixing together like how a tornado tears up earth and neighborhoods to mix a smoothie of different items. Something salient breaks through all that cacophony – Husband/Captain shouting, “Give that back, you beast!” And then three consecutive popping sounds as he fires his gun.

You watch the figure of your husband, his spine facing you, wrestle with a tentacle. Like an obsidian tongue, the tentacle emerges from the door to the captain’s cabin and sways back and forth, trying to tug something from your husband. It is a tug-of-war with a predictable winner.

Strength evolves into desperation. A shout undulates into the rainstorm as Husband/Captain is thrown up. His body somersaults in the air. The tongue churns back into the mouth of your bedroom like a retreating snake. Clutched in a protective grip is the blue chest. Defeated, Husband/Captain pushes himself up on his elbows, nose broken.

Through sheets of rain, you two make eye contact for the first time in ninety-two days.

People say he is the fairest of them all. Women and men in the town swoon over him. And with a husband/wife to match, those jealous men and women think when their eyes land upon your awe-striking beauty. Yet, when you look upon him now, all you see is a hideous man. Like a swan (yourself) marrying a condor (him) – he is ugly beyond putridness. 

His bloody mouth moves. His shaking hand moves. You do not move. 

You cannot tell if the next sound you hear is the ring of a gunshot or the bang of a lightning bolt. 

It is like when I bite into the codfish, you think deliriously, watching red soak your nightgown. Hah. What a strange color. You think the man with the blue hair is trying to get your attention but the crimson color has you in a trance. Like mold, it grows slowly on the wrinkled creases of your nightgown, a little bit below your ribcage. So much – so much red. 

Yellow interrupts your mesmerization. Cheeks squished together, you look into a black pupil ringed by a honey wedding band then backdropped by a white planet. The triptych of color has you equally magnetized as the man takes his dominant hand and settles it under your rib.

“Breathe in.”

You do obediently. 

“Breathe out.”

Once more, you follow instructions. With your exhale, the wound in your abdomen closes up like a sleepy eye. He cards his non-dominant hand through your hair with excellent care. “There, there, are you feeling better?” When you nod, he whispers lovingly, “I’m so glad to hear that, my dearest.”

He smiles and reveals a collection of cutting instrumental teeth, shark teeth. 

The man looks like he is about to inquire more yet a voice interrupts in a lazy drawl, “Caaan I kill him now?” 

You turn to see your husband covered in red, down to a level where it almost looks like a second skin or a set of clothes upon him. His body is bent over the railing and a man with almost identical features holds him by the top of his torso, a piscine hand tight around his throat. “Kinda gettin’ of tired of his squirmin’ – he’s all sticky.”

Jade knows that is not a truthful admission. Floyd likes when they squirm. Jade wants that vile man dead too with as much intensity as his brother does but – “Come now, we are not barbarians. We have rules for our way of life.”

“Don’t care. He made Sealy cry. I’mma tear off his penis.”

“Please, refrain from such violence for a moment longer. Sir – well, that is too polite for you. Hm, Captain. Captain, we have customs where we challenge the owner of a particular vessel to a certain game. Will you play along?” The only response is an opaque red-white trail of slime dropping from his trembling lips. “Good. I will say the first two lines of a poem. You must complete them.

“Floyd, if you would, please.” The squeezing hand releases and your husband gasps for breath as if he has just escaped drowning on dry land. Shadow and light from the flickering flames shudder across his choking lips. “O my Luve’s like a red, red rose / That’s newly sprung in June.”

“Get off my fucking boat!”

“Hm, another verse then. As fair as thou, my bonnie lass, / So deep in luve am I.”

“I’ll roast you alive, you overgrown fish! (Name), get away –”At the mere utterance of your name, the man returns to strangling your husband with an explosive vitriol that it almost seems his gold and olive-brown eyes will bulge from his face in anger.

“Shut the fuck up.” He seethes with rage.

The other man responds to your husband. “Sorry but the responding lines are: And I will luve thee still, my Dear, / Till a’ the seas gang dry. Go ahead, Floyd.”

Red. So much red. It sprays out when Floyd rips off the skin enveloping around your husband’s throat. Glittering seafoam rivulets that arch beautifully. Leaping and pirouetting through the air. Thicker rivers start to follow after the initial misting, jetting shower. Some of the spume lands upon your temple. Already sticky with salt and blood, you do not flinch at the sensation. 

Then, the man, the man named Floyd, falls spine first into the thrashing sea, taking your husband with him. It takes a few moments before you realize the other man is gone too. 

You are not sure how long you stay sitting on the deck, letting rain drench you. It could be three or thirteen minutes of absent minded staring at the skies. Cords of white lightning are thrown across the canvas like spools of yarn, wavy and disorganized. Water pelts your face angrily; the weight of it hurts. Below you, the watery depths wail with ghastly noises.

The noise does not lessen or quiet to announce his presence. He simply emerges. One tentacle pushing up from the railing is followed by a hand which is followed by another hand. Then, hovering about three feet in the air above you, the Kraken analyzes you.

Wind picks up, howling. If you were standing, it would be a very real threat to push you off the ship. Tangible winds pick up tendrils of your soaked hair and cheerfully play with, whipping it back and forth in painful, fast-paced oscillation.  Entranced, you watch the Kraken’s very dry hair flow in the air with gentle grace. 

“Hello.”

You almost faint. His voice is each raindrop, sleeping in each ebon cloud, racing through each electrical bolt that shatters in loud cracks. Blue eyes with a horizontal, pill-shaped pupil squint in worry at the shiver you give at his voice. 

“Are you cold, angelfish? Ah, here,” only two behemoth tentacles have to umbrella over your form to completely stop the downpour. You lose sight of the man due to the massive, lilac parasol of muscle that covers you. He enters your sight again when his upper body slithers forward under his tentacles. “Is this better?”

He is so inhumanly gorgeous that he leaves you spellbound. Around you, his numerous tentacles wrap across the deck and into holes he has made into the ship’s helm like hungry snakes in a garden of mice. Prism-like, Stygian black glitters with each rain freckle that races down the arches of muscular tissue. Light shimmers evangelical on each part anatomical droplet. 

Yet, his real eldritch splendor is in his human-mimcing top half which leans towards you amorously. 

Silver hair, like the color palette of a full moon has dropped into it, sweeps across his face gracefully. The skin of his neck and collarbone pulse with each measured breath. A blue much mellower than the typical rough ocean hue shines in his eyes. His lips move and your eyes dilate just a smidgen.

He whispers to you in your little pocket universe. It feels you two are floating on a planet designed only for the two of you, heave ho-ing back and forth on waves made of stardust. He speaks so softly.

“I’m,” his voice breaks slightly like a chipped mug, “I’m terribly sorry for being so delayed. We tore down countless ships before we arrived upon this one … That is no excuse though. I should’ve been stronger and taken all of them down in a week.”

You do not really get what he is talking about but you still ask, “How many did you take down?”

“A hundred and thirty seven. Each one just another bleak joke. My angelfish, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s quite a number.” 

“Ah, yes, I suppose. We would have done a thousand more. Floyd, Jade, and I –”

“Who’s Jade?” Then, as an afterthought. “Can I please know your name as well?”

He blinks at you in confusion. After a heavy, contemplating moment, he states resolutely, “Let’s get you out of this wrong skin and into something proper.”

“Proper?” You blink in replicating confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Hush now, hush love,” Azul says, more tender than – than someone that has drowned in Memory Sea, never to be remembered again. Honestly, you do not recall there being any reasons for apologizing.

The parasol of tentacles peels apart and, hand in hand, Azul guides you towards the railing. You take care not to slip.

“Here’s ya gown.” The man who had ripped out your husband’s throat – you do know his name is Floyd – holds something out to you, leaning over the railing.

What he holds in his hand is unlike soft cotton. It is wetly sleek, patterned with black and white which diffuse into each other with freckling gray. There are no straps for your arms to slip and where the train of a dress should end is hind flippers. A dog-esque face with long whiskers stares at you with hollow eyes, awaiting for you to slip it on. It is a seal pelt.

Boldly, you look into his eyes. Gold and olive-brown, warm eyes. They are so earnest that you have no inclination not to believe him. That is your possession in his webbed hands, and he is returning it to you. 

In the span of three months and one day, you have had seventy-three dreams where you drown in them. In the span of three months and two days, you rejoin the ocean where you were always supposed to be, sunrise and clear skies on your tail.

[dirtylittleheart333]

(S)aint

Chris is hunting and you're his prey.

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X reader (first section) Chris Sturniolo X OC (second section) Content: 18+ Smut. Sexual games. Intercourse. Masturbation. Light choking. Raw. Consensual. Oral sex.

(S)aint Chris stepped out of the cabin after Matt, closing the door behind himself. He drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool, crisp morning air. The wilderness air really was different to the air quality in the concrete jungles. Though it was early fall, and not too cold yet, it was a little mild, and Chris zipped up his favourite grey hoodie. He then adjusted his fitted hat and draped an arm over Matt’s shoulders when he reached him.

‘’You doing good?’’ Chris asked

Matt smiled, ‘’yeah, thanks. You?’’ Matt asked and Chris pulled his arm from Matt’s shoulders and jumped the last few steps down, his converse covered feet landing on the soft, wet grass.

‘’Yeah, I’m good, as long as you and Nick are okay,’’ Chris said, and wanting desperately to make his brother laugh because he knew he was going through a hard time with anxiety, he pulled a face, sticking is tongue out.

His goal was achieved when Matt burst out laughing, then he asked, ‘’Was Nick and Maddie still sleeping?’’

‘’Yup,’’ Chris said with a smile and nod. ‘’See you later,’’ Chris said and started walking off as he pushed his hands into his pockets. Chris planned on taking a long walk to contemplate on ideas for their videos, along with just enjoying nature and the scenic walk. The smell of rich soil and damp earth filled his nostrils, while the sounds of nature around him made him feel somewhat primal. Raw in nature.

Half an hour later, Chris walked into a little café that catered to the people who hired the cabins - it was a larger log cabin that they transformed into a café where people could buy the bare essentials. They also had a few tables and chairs so people could sit and sip on steaming hot cup of coffee while having a serving of fresh cream cake.

Chris was on his way to the fridge to grab a Pepsi, as he hadn't realized his morning walk would leave him parched, when he saw you. You, the stunningly beautiful woman who had Chris’ heart aflutter as you danced your way to the fridge from the chips rack, holding your phone in one hand, also gripping a packet of chips between your fingers. Chris took a logical guess that you were wearing earbuds and listening to music as his eyes followed you, a smile playing on your lips. You were wearing a pair of ripped jeans that rode low on your hips, black Converse, and a black fitted t-shirt showing off enough flesh to tease but leaving him wanting more.

You twirled just before you got to the fridge, your head bopping up and down to the beat of the music. You opened the fridge door and grabbed a bottle of water, and then closed the door again with a swing of your hip. Chris smiled widely as you danced all the way to the counter to pay. He hurried to the back of the café and went to grab a Pepsi hoping you would hang around for a few minutes so he could catch you. He glanced over his shoulder at the cash registrar and sighed silently with relief – two people had been working there since they arrived at the cabin and one was a chatter, while the other was a head nodder and silent the rest of the time. The latter was working today and he thanked his lucky stars for once again giving him a helping hand. It meant he could get out of the café that much quicker.

Chris smiled at the older man behind the cash registrar. Everything there was very dated, but it was clearly intended – from the age old cash registrar to the man who had a large beard and a pipe hanging from his mouth. Chris put his change down and the elderly man removed his pipe from his mouth and spoke for the first time to Chris, ‘’She arrived last night with her brother. Her name is (y/n). (Age) years old. A little dancer she is, and I saw her doing backflips and whatnot early this morning before we even opened the café. She was out there on the lawn,’’ he said in a deep, gruff voice.

Chris flashed him a smile but raised his brows in question. The man let out a guttural, deep laugh.

‘’I saw you watching her. A young guy like you and a fiery little thing like her? I think you two suit each other. I may not talk much, but I listen and observe. You’re a good guy, along with your brothers, and she’s a sweet, kind girl,’’ he said and shrugged his broad shoulders.

‘’Thanks,’’ Chris said and scratched his day old stubble, ‘’I appreciate you.’’

‘’Go. Go find her,’’ the old man said and popped his pipe back into his mouth and shooed Chris out, motioning with his hands, making Chris laugh as he hurried out of the café.

As he stepped out the doors, his eyes darted around in every direction looking for the beautiful dancer. For a second he thought he was shit out of luck and was going to claim his thanks back from his lucky stars but they were working overtime in his favor. You were standing on the wrap-around porch, to his left looking over the fantastic view of the trees with a small babbling brook running past the café. You let out a giggle as a squirrel sat on the wooden railing, not far from you, cleaning it’s self.

Chris smiled to himself; he adored the way you giggled and he certainly wanted to hear more. You looked innocent…like a little saint, but he also knew that it was the innocent looking ones that sometimes held the wildest sides and they often played their cards close to their chests. That was the fun part about them. Little freaks in the sheets but innocent in everyday life.

You looked over your shoulder when you felt a pair of eyes focused on your back. While you would normally get an unsettled feeling when that happened, this time, you just felt the eyes but thought nothing of it, only curious to see who it was.

‘’Hi,’’ you said with a big, brilliant, bright smile that had Chris aroused already. You turned from your spot after grabbing your bottled water and packet of chips off the railing where you had set them down then walked over to Chris. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you and though he knew he was staring, he couldn’t help it. You were a breath of fresh air, while simultaneously and contradictory, you also took his breath away. You were an absolutely stunning woman.

You stopped at the end of the railing, opposite him, where the stairs were. But you surprised him by turning your back to him and then leaned against the balustrade, looking over the view before you.

‘’Hey,’’ Chris said and stepped up to you in a few short steps, and leaned against the railing, propping his elbows onto it, his hands clasped around his Pepsi. ‘’It’s a nice day.’’ ‘’Mmm,’’ you said and started giggling

‘’What?’’ Chris asked with a chuckle, swinging his head to look at you

‘’Funny how we as humans have to make small talk before we actually get to where we want to be. We talk about everything from the weather to how boring it is to watch paint dry before we actually say what we want to say. Do you think animals do that? I think animals skip all the small talk just to get to the bottom line,’’ you said and nodded in the direction of the squirrel.

Chris laughed and lifted his hand to his mouth and lightly played with his lips for a few seconds, while deep in thought of your… somewhat… profound philosophy.

You watched the man next to you and shifted from one foot to the other, loving what you saw. His sparking blue eyes had you lost for a few seconds when you had seen them and the way he was playing with his lips…you were dangerously close to letting out a moan, and that alone would have been enough for you to fall to your knees for him. His lips were lush and reminded you of pillows – soft but firm and his fingers made you quiver inside, knowing exactly what you wanted him to do with them.

‘’You’re right,’’ Chris said, pulling you from your thoughts as he dropped his hand to the railing and turned to face you, now leaning sideways against the railing.

‘’I know I am,’’ you said softly and turned as he did, to face him. ‘’I’m (Y/n).’’

Chris laughed at your confidence, loving it. ‘’I’m Chris. You got a cabin here?’’ Chris asked

You smiled, adoring how he squeezed his eyes closed briefly when he laughed. ‘’Yeah… I came with my brother and his girlfriend but they want to rough it out, so they are going camping later today on the other side of the river. I’ll probably practice some dancing…since I’ll be all alone.’’

‘’You dance?’’ Chris asked trying hard to sound surprised

‘’Uh-huh. Ballet, modern, street…anything really,’’ you said and smiled as a sexy but devilish smiled formed on his lips

‘’Do you like camping?’’ Chris asked and you let out a laugh

‘’I’m more a cabin girl. I don’t like camping. I don’t like fishing, and I don’t like hiking. My brother and his girlfriend are the campers,’’ you replied

Chris laughed. FUCK he had a sexy laugh! ‘’What about hunting?’’ he asked

You gave him a stupefied look and dropped your head then leaned slightly forward, looking at yourself, then you stood up straight again and looked back at Chris, ‘’me?’’ you asked in a high-pitched voice.

‘’Yes, you,’’ Chris said as he burst out laughing

‘’I also hate hunting,’’ you said unequivocally. It was a stern, hard no.

‘’That’s too bad,’’ Chris said with a smirk, ‘’I love hunting, but I like to let my prey know that I’m hunting them.’’

You tilted your head to the side a fraction and chewed on your bottom lip for a second. The confusion on your face and the way you furrowed your perfect eyebrows made Chris want to grab and kiss you. Your bottom lip bounced back into place and Chris felt a shudder in his body and his dick grew even bigger and longer along his thigh.

‘’Just like me, you don’t look like a hunter. But wouldn’t that scare them away? To let them know you were hunting them?’’ you asked

‘’Not really,’’ he said and leaned in closer to you, though he made sure to study you closely as he proceeded, ‘’the reason I’m telling you this is because I’ve decided that you’re my prey. As soon I catch you alone I’m going to fuck you.’’

He didn’t know what to expect from you but it sure wasn’t the response he got. He was rolling the dice and hoping it landed in his favor, but you were the one who ultimately put the idea into his thoughts. However, you could very well have told him to fuck off…he would have even expected a smack to the cheek or fist to his mouth.

However, you didn’t even flinch when he had said that. Nor did you gasp, instead you slowly lifted your big eyes until they met his. You blinked, and the tiniest of tiniest smiles played on your lips.

‘’That’s not going to happen,’’ you said leaning even in even closer, your voice low, ‘’how do you know I won’t tell my brother you’re threatening me?’’

Chris laughed, ‘’it’s not a threat. It’s a promise and you’re not going to tell him because you don’t think I’ll catch you, even though you’re hoping I will.’’

‘’You’ve got quite and ego there, Chris’’ you said pulling back. ‘’I have to go. Enjoy the rest of your stay here.’’

As you walked past him, he grabbed your wrist, and leaned in closer again, his lips so close to your ear, they brushed over your soft hair. He inhaled the soft scent of orange blossom before he continued, ‘’I’ve got an F and C and I’ve got a K too and the only that’s missing is a bitch like U,’’ he whispered and you closed her eyes for a second, your breath hitching in your throat. A shiver ran over your spine and you bit your bottom lip so hard, you thought you might draw blood.

The soft chuckle he let out had you opening your eyes again as you pulled your wrist from his grip. ‘’If you mess with me, you don’t know how much of a bitch I can be,’’ you said and carried on walking, then turned and hurried down the stairs.

‘’Run, my little prey, run,’’ he said with a laugh as he looked down at you walking away towards the thick of the trees. He loved the little swing of your hips.

‘’Stay away from me motherfucker,’’ you called out and lifted your hand above your head then gave him the middle finger, ‘’You’ll never catch me. It’ll take you years. 15 years, at least.’’

‘’What?’’ Chris yelled after you, but you only lifted your other hand and flipped him off, now with two hands shaking in the air.

Chris watched you disappear through the trees on a path, then he turned around and bit his bottom lip in thought. ‘’15 years?’’ Chris whispered to himself and it suddenly dawned him. He clicked his fingers and smiled widely. He was at cabin 10 and though the cabins were spaced far apart in secluded spots, he knew exactly were cabin 15 was.

You yanked the big wooden door open when the incessant knocking would not stop.

''What?'' you asked and then blew some hair off your face. Chris smirked when he saw your face flushed ''Hey'' Chris said with a smile that made your legs go absolutely weak. ''Was I interrupting you? Did you maybe get tired of waiting for me to catch you?'' ''You! What are you doing here?'' you asked ignoring his latter questions. He knew damn well what you were doing.

‘’Catching my prey,’’ he said in a low voice

The voice had you sucking in a breath. You bit your bottom lip but then frowned at him, ‘’you’re really late. I know you were hunting me all day…you sure as shit do make it known to your pray huh? You followed me down to the river, and still, you didn’t catch me. Now you turn up? It’s the middle of the night,’’ you said, and started closing the door but Chris lifted a hand, and placed it on the door then pushed it open again. You were no match for his strength.

‘’You’re a dick,’’ you hissed as you stumbled backward slightly from the force of the door

‘’Oh, I think you love dicks,’’ he said, a sly smile curving on his lips, ‘’I have a feeling you like assholes too.’’

‘’Love. I love assholes, more specifically, my own,’’ you corrected him, crossing your arms over your chest

‘’Hmmm,’’ he said and as he started walking slowly towards you, pushing the door closed with one good push behind him. ‘’I’m sure you do. You’re a nasty little one aren’t you?’’

You glared at him and Chris cocked a brow as his hand shot out, flew past your head, and quickly gathered your hair into a fist and pulled your hair back, forcing you to tilt your head back so you looked up at him. Oh, he was good! You didn’t see that coming and he was so fast you didn’t have time to make a move.

Just then a flash of lightning hit really close and lit the cabin up through all the windows. Thunder boomed and rumbled loudly. Chris looked over his shoulder as rain started pouring down, hitting the windows like little pebbles. With his attention on the rain, he loosened his grip and you turned on your heels and ran before Chris could react.

‘’Fuck,’’ Chris yelled as his head shot around and saw an empty space in front of him and his hand still outstretched and void of hair. He curled his fingers up in a fist and looked to the stairs as you took them two at a time, the thumping of your feet on the hardwood floors echoing around the cabin. He grinned and shook his head.

‘’(Y/n)!’’ Chris called and pulled his socks off, discarding them along the way. He had taken his shoes off at the door before he knocked because he stepped in a puddle of mud as he made his way to you in the dark and he didn’t want to track mud into the cabin.

He ran up the stairs also taking two at a time, pulling his shirt at the hem, up and over his head. He tossed it aside and it flew over the railing and then floated down, then pooled on the floor below. When he reached the landing, it was dark, except for one room where a thin sliver of light escaped from under a closed door.

‘’Gotcha,’’ Chris said with a smirk and walked to the door and pushed it open. It swung open and you stood in the middle of the room, looking like a dear in headlights. You swallowed hard and clasped your hands together under your chin.

‘’You’re so fucking beautiful,’’ Chris said, scanning your body with his eyes, from your little feet, your toenails painted in black, to the top of your head, where his eyes rested. He locked eyes with yours and scrutinized them, trying to find confirmation that you were still game for this. Your eyes flicked up fast above his head and then they quickly dropped down, back to his blue sparking eyes.

Chris grinned, now knowing it was still on, and your eyes flashed with lust as you let your hands drop to your sides. Your eyes once again left his, and you looked him over, just standing in his grey shorts with a C on them. C for Chris, you thought but knew better. You shifted on your spot, spreading your legs just a fraction as your pussy pulsed and soaked your panties. He was one sexy fucker and he knew it.

‘’(Y/n),’’ Chris said and you lifted your eyes to his, ‘’come here.’’

You bit your bottom lip, and lifted one foot and placed it in front of the other and started walking to him like you was hypnotised. When you stopped in front of Chris, a faint smile played on your lips.

‘’Don’t you think,’’ Chris said, and once again, his hand shot out and he grabbed a handful of hair, ‘’you should lock the doors when you’re trying to escape a hunter?’’

‘’Fuck you,’’ you said and Chris pulled your head back, tilting your head up as his head descended, planting his lips on yours. Chris felt a shift in his shorts and knew the monster was wide awake. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your body against his tightly, your tits crushed against his chest as he kissed you. Your tongue drove forward, parting your full lips and slipping into his mouth, he could only reciprocate. Your tongues swirled and danced together in a hot, hungry, needy kiss. His hand roamed from around your waist to your delicious ass. You moaned into his mouth, as he squeezed your perfect, tight ass.

‘’Fuck,’’ Chris said pulling from the kiss. His dick was aching and throbbing, pre-cum soaking into his shorts. He pulled your panties down in one smooth, fast motion and they fell to your feet as he grabbed the t-shirt you were wearing and yanked it over your head.

A moan travelled up his throat slowly and escaped his lips when he looked down at your titties. They were more than perfect and your hard little nipples were pieced with two silver barbells gleaming in the light. He let out a growl entangled with a laugh and he ducked his head, ‘’a saint you ain’t,’’ Chris said just before his mouth latched on a breast.

‘’Oh fuuuuck,’’ you moaned as you threw your head back. Chris turned you around, still sucking on your tittie wondering if he would ever get enough, and pushed you back into the door. You slammed into it, your back making contact with it, causing a loud thud. A laugh of pleasure escaped you and Chris lifted his head, grabbing your wrists. His eyes zoomed around the room but he found nothing convenient until his eyes fell on the door. Above you, was a wooden pole attached to the door so that, he guessed, people could hang coats or jacks on. He took both your wrists in his left hand and reached up with his right, he then curled his hand around the pole and pulled down with all his might. It was securely attached so he pulled his hand away as he lifted yours up.

‘’We have to make do with this,’’ he said, and placed your hands on the bar. You had to stand up straighter as you curled your hands and fingers around it in opposite directions, and every muscle pulled but it felt good. You were used to burning muscles in dancing and it wasn’t too bad when you stood on your tippy toes, but for now, you planted her feet flat on the floor. It only meant your arms stretched to their maximum limit and burned, but this was worth it,.

‘’You okay baby girl?’’ Chris asked softly and let go of your hands. He then ran his fingers over your cheek and along your jaw till they stopped under your chin.

‘’Mhm, I’m good,’’ you replied with a confident smile

‘’Don’t let go,’’ he said sternly and tipped your head up even more with his fingers under your chin

You nodded and Chris pushed your legs further apart with his foot, your smooth pussy shiny with excitement. He reached down and ran his finger through your slit as you moaned and your breathing got heavy…faster… your titties pushing out with every out breath, taunting him. Chris breathed in your scent that reminded him of hot summer days…maybe a beachy coconut scent. It only made him want to eat you out all that much more.

Chris lowered his head and sucked your tits, one by one, taking turns, licking, sucking hard, and nipping at them with his teeth. His dick growing painfully hard as he listened to your little gasps and moans. The warmth and wetness of his mouth had you positively reeling and squirming. When you arched your back, wanting him to take more, needing him to take more, he gave a nipple one last hard suck before pulling away.

Your eyes snapped open and Chris gave you a cocky grin and moved around you, then behind you, letting you rest your weight against him, his hard cock pressing into the small of your back, only arousing you more. His one hand trailed down your taut belly, purposely taking his sweet time knowing you wanted it so bad.

‘’Chris, it’s not going to take me long,’’ you breathed, your hips bucking, reaching, desperate for him to get you off. ‘"Don't you dare fucking cum until I tell you," he whispered the order in your ear and goosebumps ran over your arms as you gave a short nod just before he slid his finger over your clit, making you suck in a sharp intake of air.

‘’Ohhhh fuck!’’ you moaned loudly and closed your legs, trapping Chris’ hand.

‘’UH…fuck no baby girl. Open,’’ he said and let out a laugh. You were so sensitive and he fucking loved it. You bit your bottom lip and opened your legs again, letting Chris resume what he had started. ‘’That’s it baby,’’ he whispered into your ear. He had only lightly circled your clit three times, agonizingly slowly before your breathing labored and a tremble shot through your body, lifting your heels off the ground.

‘’Ooo, you’re so fucking horny,’’ he said and pulled his hand away. "Oh fuck, Chris!" you half screamed, "Pleassee! It’s you! You make me too horny"

‘’Were you playing with your little pussy before I got here?’’ Chris asked

‘’I fucking was! I wanted you all day!’’ you spat out

Chris’ dick once again twitched in his shorts, ‘’Did you feel my crosshairs focus on your neck and chest today while I was hunting you?’’ Chris asked making his way back to stand in front of you.

‘’I did. I felt your eyes on me all day,’’ you said and grin formed on the corners of your lips. ‘’I was waiting for you to catch me. I only got wetter and hornier as the day passed.’’

Chris smirked, ‘’When I pull my trigger finger, my bullet is going to lodge inside your heart…forever.’’

‘’It already has,’’ you breathed with a shaky voice. Everything about this situation was so enthralling, the desire for him was overwhelming

Chris licked his lips, ‘’not quite yet. There is much more to come,’’ he said and you dropped your eyes ‘’I’m about to blow my load so if I can control it for a few minutes, so can you,’’ he said. You lifted your eyes again and stared at him, your eyes locked to his as he glared at you with an intensity that melted your soul. He moved closer to you and slid a finger into you and your eyes closed uncontrollably, dropping your head as the heat rushed through your body. He cupped your chin with his free hand and lifted your face, "Look at me baby, I want to watch you cum." He slid a second finger deep inside, hooking them upward and working them against your sweet spot, while his thumb brushed over your clit. "Oh, yes, yes…FUCCCKKKKK" you screamed as your eyes grew big "Not yet baby, hold on a little while longer!" he said but when he saw your stomach muscles tighten and you stood up on the very edge of your tippy toes he grinned. ‘’Let go of the bar at the last minute if you need to okay…I’m right here, I got you, baby girl.’’ He didn’t ease up, he finger fucked you until you were writhing and you obeyed with guileless pleasure, craving more and more of what was come to come after.

‘’Chris,’’ you breathed not able to hold back any longer as your muscles started to spasm. Every. Single. Muscle.

‘’Fuck yes, cum for me baby,’’ he said and slipped his free arm around your waist. He held you as your orgasm ripped through your body with a ferocity and you came undone, letting go of the bar above your head… and the pent up orgasm. Chris held you to him, your body moulding into his as you shook and twitched, your juices splashing against his hand, and ran down your legs as you got lost in the throes of your orgasm.

You had rode it out in Chris arms, your own arms holding onto him, your fingers sinking into his tight muscles. Finally, catching your breath, you lifted your face to his and kissed him with an intensity you had never felt before.

Your hands slid down his chest, over his stomach, where he sucked in a breath, to his shorts and you eagerly pulled at them. With your orgasm and the excitement, your hands were trembling slightly and you fumbled causing Chris to let out a little laugh as he pulled from the kiss. He hooked his thumbs into the elastic band and pushed them down just as your eyes fell down between you both. His solid, rock-hard dick bounced free and hit you on your stomach. You lifted your eyes to meet his, only to see his pupils dilating.

‘’Ooo, no underwear,’’ you said and Chris smiled as you snaked down his body to your knees. You sucked in a breath as you stared at his perfect dick. It stood up straight, proudly into the air, long, thick, and begging to be touched…to be pleasured…to release the ever-growing pressure. You lifted your hand and curled your small fingers around it, causing Chris to close his eyes and weave his fingers into your hair. You smiled when a drop of pre-cum squeezed out the tip, forming right in front of your eyes. A fleeting thought of whether you had seen anything more erotic came to mind. The answer was no. Your eyes lifted and looked at Chris who had opened his eyes again, and was looking down at you, a seductive smile on his face.

‘’You have a per….no there are no words…it’s better than perfect,’’ you said so earnestly, Chris felt his heart expand for you even more. Your eyes fell back down to the perfection in your hand and just as the pre-cum started to move to run over his head, you flicked your tongue out and caught the bead with the very tip of your tongue.

‘’Ohhh fuck,’’ Chris said as you smiled pulling your tongue back into your mouth. The sight of your tongue darting out to catch the pre-cum and the feeling of just the tip touching him with just the right pressure for mere seconds almost had him shooting his load right then but he pulled his shit together. The pre-cum was warm and salty but with a tiny hint of sweetness. You had never tasted anything better.

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue once more before you swirled your tongue around his smooth head like it was your favourite lolly pop. Chris moaned, spurring you on so you sucked in a good breath of air before closing your lips around him and slid your hot, wet mouth down his shaft.

‘’Jesus baby girl, your mouth is fucking hot!’’ he said as his fingers curled tighter in your hair, while simultaneously pushing your head further down on his dick. You relaxed your throat muscles and Chris slid down, drawing a lengthy moan out of him.

‘’Fuckk you’re tight,’’ he breathed as his dick filled your throat. He pulled back slightly and then pushed deep again, slowly fucking your throat. You could feel him growing bigger and harder with each and every stroke, though he let you catch your breath when needed but you were a pro at filling your lungs and holding your breath. You knew he wouldn’t be able to, nor want to hold back very long and you also knew that deep-throating brought forth an enormous amount of cum which always excited you.

‘’(Y/n)…oh shit…I’m cumming,’’ he said through clenched teeth and buried himself deep at the back of your throat, his grip in your hair tightening even more as a loud, primal, animalist groan escaped him. He unloaded hot, thick streams, which you eagerly drank down

When Chris saw his knuckles white with his grip, he pulled back, sliding his slick dick coated with saliva out of your throat and mouth, while easing his grip. He ran his hands down your head, over your cheeks and cupped them, then he lifted your face, as you gasped and sucked in air. He smiled down at you and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes but you smiled brightly and let out a giggle.

‘’Fuck that was hot,’’ he said and moved his right hand to brush his thumb over saliva on your chin, a thin string still hanging between you, attached to your chin, and his slick cock coated in your spit.

You then stood up with the help of Chris and he immediately pushed his lips to yours in a passionate, deep kiss. He deepened the kiss even more, pulling you to closer to him, letting you melt into him. A moan escaped you, and Chris placed his hands on your ass and squeezed, wanting so much more of you.

‘’I need to you fuck you,’’ he said pulling back from the kiss and he lifted a hand then smacked your sweet cheek, causing you to yelp and squeal at the same time. He knew that stung like hell. Chris, being Chris, rubbed it gently but gave you a cheeky grin.

‘’On the bed baby,’’ he said

‘’You only just came,’’ you said and walked a few short steps to the bed and jumped onto it.

‘’I have a phenomenal recovery time,’’ Chris said not far behind you

‘’Phenomenal!? That’s… a big word,’’ you said with a giggle

‘’Shhhh,’’ he said with a laugh and reached out, then grabbed the top of your foot, making her squeal. He yanked you to the edge of the bed, close to him.

Smiling at Chris, you opened your legs causing Chris’ eyes to widen. His mouth dropped open and his eyes shifted between looking at your pussy to your face a couple times. He sucked in a breath and ran his hands through his hair. ‘’Holy shit. How are you doing that? You…oh…you can do that because you’re a dancer?’’

You laughed and nodded your head. Chris bit his bottom lip and grabbed his dick then started pumping with great fervent. He ran his eyes over you again, and you cocked a perfect brow.

‘’I want you to rub one out and cum all over me, but I thought you wanted to fuck me?’’ you asked

Chris let out a laugh, ‘’fuck yes…I’m deciding if I want to lick you, fuck you or just stare at the most perfect pussy I have ever seen,’’ he said

‘’Thing is, I can’t keep my legs open like this forever,’’ you said and indicated to your legs. You had learned from an early age that you were double-jointed and with dancing, especially ballet, you could easily do splits and bend your body into ridiculous ways.

Chris smiled at you and bent down. He flattened his tongue against your pussy and pulled it up slowly. You gasped, rolled your eyes back and gripped the blankets either side of you.

‘’Oh that’s fucking good,’’ Chris said, and before you could even open your eyes he slammed into you, driving his dick deep into you.

‘’OOOOH FUUUUCK!’’ you screamed as your eyes snapped open. Chris was relentless with his thrusts, each time going to depths you didn't know existed, but it felt so fucking good, it was mere seconds before you felt the familiar tingles of of an orgasm approaching. So did Chris. The smile he was wearing the whole time widened as your tight pussy fluttered around his cock.

‘’Fuck yes baby, come on my dick,’’ Chris said

You pushed herself up onto your forearms wanting to see his big dick slide in and out of your pussy – that and his moans and groans set you over the edge and an orgasm rocketed through you, knocking you back down to the bed. You wanted to draw your legs up but Chris was holding onto them, keeping them open only fueling the orgasm even more. You exploded all over his dick as you trembled and shook, reveling in your orgasm. Your moans and groans seemed to bounce off the wood paneling for walls, which in turn only spurred Chris more. There was nothing sweeter to his ears than a woman cumming.

‘’Holy fuck,’’ Chris said and just as your pussy eased the vice grip around his dick he felt it starting over.

‘’Again?’’ he asked and you nodded as one orgasm rolled into another. It felt like waves at the shore when the ocean pulled back at night to worship the moon. They always seemed to roll into one another, never having much of a break between the tides.

‘’Good girl,’’ Chris said, and grabbed your throat, closing his hand around it. You loved that he didn’t want to choke the air out of you, but he gripped it just enough to where it was highly erotic and enough to send you over the edge. Your pleasure increased and you orgasmed once again. He watched your eyes roll back, your body shake and tremble as you gripped the blanket so hard your knuckles turned white.

Chris slowed down and then came to a complete stop and leaned over you. He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you, his one hand going behind your head to support you while you rode your electrifying orgasm out. When you stopped twitching, he pushed his lips to your damp temple.

‘’You okay baby?’’ he asked softly, almost a whisper

It took you a second to answer but you answered with, ‘’you’re a beast. I’ve never felt better.’’

Chris laughed and pushed his lips to your temple one more time and loosened his grip on you, ‘’my turn, I’m so fucking close. On your knees, precious girl’’ he said and you laughed with a nod but your laugh was cut short when Chris pulled out slowly, eliciting a low moan from you both.

You both then looked to the windows when more thunder rumbled and the rain came down even harder, if possible, as you turned around and moved further up the bed.

‘’You’re coming back to our cabin, right babe?’’ Chris asked

‘’Yeah, of course,’’ you said and looked over your shoulder and gave him a wink as you wriggled your ass.

Chris let out a laugh and got onto the bed behind you. He stabled himself, digging his knees into the mattress, and smacked your ass, leaving it glowing red.

You let out a yelp and then moaned, falling to your forearms. Chris, both hands on your ass cheeks, spreading you open as you ground back into him. You spread your arms out in front of you now, gripping the sheets in anticipation but Chris surprised you and reached for them, then pulled them back and pinned them to you with one hand.

‘’Oooh,’’ you moaned out, partially muffled by your head pressing into the bed. You were forcing your ass up higher as you arched your back; it was a magnificent site that Chris wished he had more time to admire but he was about to lose his shit if he didn’t cum and he knew he could have that view any time he wanted.

Chris lowered his cock, lined up to your pretty, wet pussy, your juices still running down your thighs, and pushed himself into you. You were tight as fuck, but the wetness helped him slip in relatively easy, drawing groans from both of them.

‘’Holy shit, that’s deep, Chris…,’’ you moaned as Chris bottomed out. He held it for a brief moment, taking the time to appreciate you; your gorgeous face, mouth agape, hair a mess and he watched as a bead of sweat ran down your spine. More than anything, he appreciated you for just being yourself. You worked the saint side so well and also managed to also work the ain’t side with ease.

Chris then pulled back slowly enjoying how your pussy wanted to suck him back in as he pulled along your wet, silky walls, drawing a long moan from you. He almost pulled out but he plunged back in and immediately sped the tempo way up, you were only able to squirm and take it. Your legs started to tremble as the bed rocked, and he knew you were close. Your breath quickened and he saw your cheeks flush.

Chris let go of your arms and grabbed your throat, gently but firmly, and pulled you up to him. As you came, exploding around him, he knew…he knew he wanted this every day for the rest of his life.

"I’m going to marry you baby girl. Sooner than you think," he murmured into your ear, then, ‘’oh fuck I’m gonna cum.’’

‘’Give it to me Chris,’’ you hissed, ‘’fill me up, I want it all! I want your baby.’’

That was it for Chris, lights out. As hard as you had made him cum earlier, it was nothing compared to what you were doing to him in that moment. He emptied his whole soul into you, and you kept rocking against each other as you milked all the cum out of his aching balls to spill over and mix with your juices.

‘’Baby,’’ Chris said after he had pulled his shorts on, and watched as you pulled on your panties. You looked up and smiled at him as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down onto his lap as he sat on the bed. You put your arms around his neck as he snaked an arm around your waist, ‘’I really loved and enjoyed our game today but I don’t want to ever pretend we’re strangers again. It was fun while it lasted but I love what we have…I love you.’’

You smiled and bit your bottom lip as you ran your hand along his stubbly jawline, ‘’I agree. When we started talking at the café, I guess we both ran with this game, but you were brilliant,’’ you said and thought about how it all happened…

The triplets had arranged to hire a Cabin for a little over a week but you were unable to go with Chris, Matt, Nick, and Maddie because you couldn’t take off from your job on the day the guys had left, but you knew your brother and his girlfriend were also hiring a cabin so, you decided to hitch a ride with them on the following day.

As much as you wanted to, you didn’t to go to Chris’ cabin to let him know you had arrived because it was the middle of the night, and in the morning you didn’t think they were awake yet, so you went to the café. That’s when it all started. Chris had known there was a little game going on because instead of your usual running up to him and jumping into his arms when you saw him, you played cool and then pretend that you didn’t know him. Just two strangers meeting for the first time. He played along and the game went from first gear to fourth in a matter of minutes. It wasn’t what either of you expected but it was fun from the get go.

You drew your attention back to Chris, ‘’Your bullet to my heart is firmly lodged there, Chris. It was from the get-go. I’ve loved you for a year and it’s never wavered...it never will, and we have the best fucking sessions ever. I’ve been living with you for 6 months -’’

‘’I meant what I said,’’ Chris said cutting you off eager to get out what he wanted to say. He cupped your cheek with a hand, ‘’I want to marry you soon. I want children with you. I have my career with my brothers, the best family I could ask for, I have you…and as selfish as it sounds I want more.’’

‘’Then more is what you’ll get,’’ you said excitedly and pushed your lips to his.

‘’I love that I have my little saint right now but I want my little ain’t back tomorrow as usual,’’ he said when you parted from the kiss

‘’Hell yes!’’ you said with a giggle and you both got up to leave for the cabin you and Chris were sharing with his brothers, as originally planned. Thank you for reading, I appreciate you so much. Each and every comment, like and share is amazing. You are loved!

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Kissing In The Rain » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky and the reader kiss in the rain.

Warnings: Fluff, language, nothing but cuteness, kissing, cuddling, pet names (doll)

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

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You sighed as you looked out the window, watching rain drops roll down the window. Alpine jumped onto the windowsill, looking out the window with you.

“I know. It’s still raining, sweet girl.” You cooed, gently scratching behind her ear.

You smiled when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around you from behind. You leaned back against Bucky’s body, laying your head on his shoulder. He gave you a soft sweet kiss on your lips.

“What are my girls doing?” Bucky asks, petting Alpine.

“Watching the rain. It’s kinda pretty to watch.” You say.

“Not as pretty as you.” He says, kissing your cheek.

“You’re so cheesy.” You giggled.

“You’re the only one who makes me cheesy, doll.” He says softly, kissing your cheek again.

You giggled when his beard poked your skin. You guys watched the rain until you got an idea.

“I have an idea!” You say excitedly.

You managed to get out of Bucky’s arms and ran towards the door without putting a jacket or a pair of shoes on. You ran down the hallway of the apartment complex to the elevator with Bucky following behind you.

“Doll, where are you going?” Bucky asks.

“You’ll find out in a minute.” You say.

You and Bucky gone onto the elevator and pushed the button to go down.

“Are you at least going to tell me your idea?” He asks curiously.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” You say with a smile.

The elevator dinged, letting you guys off on the ground floor. You immediately ran outside to the rain and started dancing around in it like you were a kid again.

“Doll, what the hell are you doing? You don’t have a jacket and shoes on. You’re going to get sick.” He says with concern in his voice.

“No I’m not! Come dance with me like it’s the 40s!” You say with excitement, holding out your hand.

That made Bucky smile widely. Bucky took you hand in his, twirling you around as if you two were in a movie. He then picked you up and spun the two of you around making you laugh. Your laughing died down and you looked into his beautiful blue eyes. You cupped his stubbly cheeks, placing your lips on his, kissing him passionately. The rain fell on the two of you as you guys kissed. It felt like everything around the two of you was in slow motion. Like sparks were flying. You pulled away from his lips slowly while looking into his eyes.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” You say softly with a smile.

Bucky kissed you softly, smiling against your lips.

“Thank you for making me feel young again.” Bucky says.

“Anytime, Sergeant.” You smiled, kissing him again.

“We’re soaking wet now. Let’s go inside, get changed and warmed up.” He says.

Bucky walked inside the apartment with you in his arms. The two of you changed out of your wet clothes and into dry clothes. You guys got comfortable on the couch with Alpine and a blanket with a movie playing on the TV.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky says, kissing his lips.

“I love you too, Buck.” You kissed him back.

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-Bucky Doll