#i was writing my fic and stumbled upon just how messed up this is

[imhyperfixatingdontbotherme]

!!!Spoilers for up to the Wano arc of one piece!!!

So I was bored and randomly decided to make a one piece family tree according to my interpretations.

I hope this clears absolutely nothing up because I am more confused than before.

[xiaowhore]

equivalent exchange.

DRAFT. this fic is incomplete, as i've stated in this post. this has been sitting in the dungeon for a while, and i have no plans to finish them, but i posted these drafts to not let them go to waste. it is up to you if you still want to read them regardless of their incompletion :) i will be writing my original ideas for the fic at the end so you guys will have an idea of what the fic was supposed to be like.

premise. when ayato stumbles upon a drafted resignation letter on your desk, he doubles his efforts to show you the perquisites of staying by his side.

he doesn't want to lose a competent subordinate. that's all there is to it.

note. what's wrong with secretary kim au but it's definitely not the same because i stopped watching at episode 5 and have no idea what happened. anyways i think we were all expecting a ceo!ayato x secretary!reader fic at some point so here it is. (couldn't keep this gender neutral for plot reasons, so feminine pronouns were used.)

Kamisato Ayato considers himself a good boss.

Or as far as things go, he's a decent one. He treats his employees well, takes them to expensive restaurants for company dinners, and discourages overtime so they can head off early for the night. He doesn't care much for formalities, and he gets along with his colleagues fairly well. He's never heard anyone talk behind his back or complain about his attitude at work, and there aren't any rumors spreading about him (if he turns a blind eye to the conspiratorial gossip guessing his relationship status).

But he does have minor faults. Like showing a more mischievous side when work hours are over. Getting Thoma dead drunk during dinners because his half-conscious inebriated talking is a form of amusement, or riling up Itto in drinking games just because it's funny. Then he leaves Sara to clean up the mess for him, since Yae seems to enjoy the comedy sketch as thoroughly as he does and probably won't lift a finger to help even if he asked her to.

As his assistant, you're prone to falling victim to his shenanigans, silly stunts that coax out aggravated eye rolls and sighs of exasperation. Years of experience eventually shaped you up to be entirely immune to April Fools' pranks.

He's in the middle of planning another one when he spots a letter of resignation on your desk.

At first, he thinks it's your rebellious phase arriving a decade late. He always found it odd how you never retaliated against his tricks, and this may just be the long-awaited April Fools' prank of vengeance. If it is, it's particularly mean of you—Ayato does have feelings, you know? Even he would feel hurt if you told him you wanted to leave! You shouldn't take this kind of thing lightly!

Then he remembers you aren't the type to make jokes, April Fools' or otherwise, and it's that moment when he feels (proper) fear.

“[Name] wants to resign?!”

Ayato makes a zipping motion and Thoma's shrieks immediately die down, but the disbelief on his face has yet to wane. His brows scrunch together, brain hard at work in processing this piece of information, though it seems to short-circuit in utter confusion from the sudden blow.

Scandalized, Thoma lowers his head and levels his voice to a hushed whisper, “Are you sure you saw it correctly?”

“I have able eyes. Unfortunately, my optometrist confirmed my perfect vision and assured I saw it just fine.” Woe is he.

“Get them checked again.”

“No matter how much I check, it won't change the results, Thoma.”

“We don't know that for sure, sir!”

“Trust me,” Ayato deadpans, looking off into the distance, “I checked with him thrice.”

Defeated, Thoma leans back to his chair, crossing his arms while deep in thought. “You saw the letter, but she didn't turn it in, did she?”

“She didn't. No e-mail, either.” Ayato taps the table in a mindless rhythm, expression stern but the shape of his lips almost resembling a pout. “Do you have any idea why she'd want to resign?”

Thoma rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Is that a genuine question, sir?”

Ayato's head snaps back to look at his companion. “Why wouldn't it be?”

“...Everyone in the office knows you... tease her for your own amusement.”

“It's my way of showing affection.” The corners of his lips curl up, stretching to a twisted smile as he rests his cheek on his palm. “Isn't she just so adorable when she gets angry?”

“You really do have a rotten personality.”

Ayato waves his hand in a noncommittal response. “We're straying off topic. What should we do next?”

Thoma hums, closed fist beneath his chin. “Since she hasn't turned in the letter yet, that means she must be hesitating. For what reason, we don't know, but it's keeping her here. So before she makes up her mind, we should dissuade her from quitting no matter what.”

Ayato laces his fingers together, brow in an inquisitive arch. “And we do that by?”

Green eyes sparkle with tenacity, clashing with blue irises twinkling in intrigue. “We bribe her, sir. It's time to show off your good points.”

--

“If a woman quits her job, what do you think her reasons could be?”

Ayaka blinks owlishly at her brother, taken aback by the abrupt question. It's a sudden thing to ask, especially odd given how their conversation hasn't led to that topic at all. “Did someone resign? I haven't heard anything of the sort, though.”

Ayato shakes his head, stirring the boba tea in his hands. “It's a hypothetical.”

Which means it's real.

Ah, whatever. At least he didn't go for the “my friend...” excuse.

Ayaka warily cuts a portion of her cake, scrutinizing each microexpression flashing on Ayato's face. It's one of their weekly lunch meetings, squeezed between hectic schedules, and they more or less have a silent agreement to avoid discussions involving work if they could help it. But this time, he brought it up himself.

How peculiar.

“Perhaps she wants to change workplaces? If she's exemplary, she might have been offered a better position or higher pay.”

Ayato nearly scoffs at the suggestion. The company, old-fashioned as it is, can only be inherited by a direct line of descendants. Outsiders can only go so far, and being the secretary for the chief executive officer isn't bad at all. Last time he checked, he's been paying you generously as well—how many figures was it? Six?

“Oh!” Ayaka exclaims, holding up a finger as she seems to have figured out something. “Or maybe she wants to settle down and get married? If her work is keeping her occupied, she'll most likely take time off to find a husband.”

Ayato proceeds to choke on a tapioca pearl.

“Or she got married and wants to be a housewife-”

“That's quite enough, Ayaka.”

Ayato would rather believe the Earth is flat.

--

If Ayato were any less desperate, perhaps he would have rationalized that putting together “give her what she wants to make her stay” and “she wants to get married” is a bad, bad idea.

Unfortunately for him, he is grasping at straws, so it leaves him no choice. Yes. Definitely. There is no other option than this, obviously.

(He does not delve deeper into the reason why he doesn't want you to leave, nor does he dwell any longer on why he was so quick to think he was fine with getting married if it was to you.)

“Don’t you want to get married soon, Ms. [Surname]?”

To clarify, Ayato does not spy on other people's conversations for a hobby, but he's always had impeccable timing. It comes with the job.

He stands by the door, reaching for the doorknob to the break room, but the mention of your name forces him to a halt.

“Why are you asking me that...?” You awkwardly dodge the question, sipping on your coffee. “I suppose I am at that age, though.”

“So you do want to!” The squeal rings with a note of glee, a stark contrast to Ayato's gradually dimming mood. “Wouldn't it be nice to marry a good man? I'm sure even you have thought of it at some point! Are you seeing anyone, then? Anyone you can imagine yourself marrying?”

“No, not yet.”

Before Ayato can even heave a relieved sigh, you follow with, “But my mother is making me go on dates to see people. Said if I didn't bring home a man soon, she'd come all this way to drag me back by my ear and introduce me to her friend's son.”

“Ah, I get that...” Your friend replies emphatically, nodding. “But those kind of meetings hardly go well. And you can't exactly tell your mother's friend you don't find her son attractive, right?”

“Why not just marry Mr. Kamisato, then?” Another one pipes up, to which Ayato gives a mental salute of appreciation. “You spend most of your time together. If you're not married to your job, then you're practically married to him.”

A cackle sends his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Not a chance.”

Can you at least expound why?!

“Huh? Why not? I mean, Mr. Kamisato is on another realm of existence and I can never hope to be on the same level as him, but you look good together!”

Your face pinches to a tight frown. “Look good together? In what way?”

“When you stand side by side, it just looks... right. And like I've mentioned earlier, you spend all your time with him. Why not seal the deal?”

“Mr. Kamisato is reliable, and if you marry him, you're set for life. He's handsome too, and we've all seen his muscles at our company sports day a few months ago!”

“I've never been so thankful for team-building events. Hallelujah.”

Ayato's face burns in embarrassment hearing the dreamy sighs. Even if they think there isn't anyone else listening on them (which is false), shouldn't they exert some restraint at work?

“Please don't lust over my boss,” you assert sternly, voice ice cold. “And we have a strictly professional relationship. So don't get any weird ideas from here on out, alright?”

“Fine. Tell me that again when I'm invited at your wedding, I dare you.”

“I said-”

They wave off your vehement protests at the statement. “Then if you're not into Mr. Kamisato, what do you plan to do?”

Ayato perks up, straining his ears in rapt attention.

“...I'm going on a date this weekend,” you sigh, rubbing circles on your temples. “I'll let you know how it goes.”

Oh no.

--

“-Dinner was nice. We didn't expect the rain shower, but he ran to the convenience store across the street to buy an umbrella because he didn't want me to get wet on the way to the car. He said it would be a waste if my hair got ruined since I-”

Slurp.

“...Styled it for the occasion. Then he drove me home. I found out we liked the same band from the music he played, and we agreed to-”

Sluuurp.

“-Go to their upcoming concert together. Then we somehow also like the same novel that's getting a movie adaption soon, so we also promised to see it-”

Sluuuuuuuuuuuuuurp.

“Could you please refrain from making noise when eating, sir?”

Ayato decidedly does not comply and only slurps his boba tea harder, nearly choking on a tapioca pearl yet again.

As always, you learn to ignore him.

“Concert... and a movie. I'm not sure about the concert, but the film you're talking about is the one coming out in the next two months, right?” Thoma confirms, sweating when Ayato's expression turns visibly grim. “You plan to see him for that long...?”

“Even if dating doesn't work out, we can always become friends, can't we?” You shrug, taking a bite out of your sandwich. “He seems like a nice guy. We get along really well, considering we've only met once. I ended up agreeing to a second date-”

The passive-aggressive slurping persists for the following afternoon.

--

“I've been meaning to ask for a while,” Thoma treads carefully, noticing Ayato's rapid-fire typing—no, striking—on the keyboard, “Ms. [Surname] is good at her job, but you seem really... eager to make her stay, sir.”

Ayato's fingers halt in their movement, and he takes a second to flash his business smile. “Of course. She's a valuable asset, and I'd be foolish to let her go.”

“Yes, I'm well aware, but...” Thoma scratches his cheek, looking off to the side. “You didn't go to such lengths when your former assistants resigned from their post. Or, uh... you fired most of them.”

“Yes,” Ayato simply agrees, still smiling, “she's competent. You don't find anyone like her easily, so it's only natural I'd want her to stay.”

“What do you mean by 'anyone like her,' sir?”

Thoma is awfully talkative today. Ayato might need to feed him something spicy to shut him up.

“Ms. [Surname] is special.” The words smoothly leave his lips. “Does anyone else have the meetings and company events scheduled for the next month memorized? She's the only one I can count on for work matters.”

Thoma's shoulders slump. “Okay, let me get straight to the point. Do you-”

“Mr. Kamisato?”

Thoma nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, accompanied by the clack of your heels.

“What is it?” The cold smile on his face finally melts to something more genuine, softer around the edges and looking especially radiant. It's welcoming, like your arrival counts as a joyous occasion, and he is exponentially more attentive compared to the way he lent Thoma half his ear (the other preoccupied with a phone call, which he swiftly ends the moment you walk in).

“I came to deliver some files from Ms. Miko... did I interrupt something?” You gesture to Thoma standing idly by the side, dumbfounded from Ayato's inconceivable behavior.

“Not at all. Is there anything else?” Ayato accepts the documents, noticing your hesitance to leave.

“Ah, yes, I will be asking for time off tomorrow.”

That's... rare?

But it's not a hard request. Ayato's own schedule is blank for the most part, since the latest project wrapped up not too long ago, and the workload is lighter than usual. Missing one work day won't do any harm.

“It's fine, but could I ask why?”

You fidget, tentative as you reply, “I was invited... for a trip on a cruise. He insisted I come since his friend bailed on him and the tickets would go to waste.”

The warmth in his eyes freezes over.

“The tickets would go to waste...” Ayato repeats under his breath, mockingly cruel. The tone flies past your head but it hits Thoma full-force, making him sweat profusely.

Distasteful. An utter disgrace of a man. The magnitude of his ignorance is so awe-inspiring, I have to applaud. I must give credit where it is due, and the foolishness of this clown is truly impressive. “The tickets will go to waste,” he says? His money must worth more to him than his dignity. Inviting Ms. [Surname] to a date on a workday with no regard for her schedule is one thing, but making her out to be an afterthought as a substitute for his original travel partner is another. How shameful. This is no way to treat a lady. If Ayaka were to be with a man of his caliber, I would never allow it.

But what he says outloud is of course, “I see. I hope you have fun, then.”

--

Corporate events are, for the most part, adequately entertaining.

Preparing for it is not.

But the worst part isn't even brainstorming themes, or finding an appropriate venue, or planning the logistics, or writing the guest list.

It's choosing what to wear.

Actually, the cause for Ayato's headache isn't even what attire he'll go with. It's yours.

“That looks wonderful,” Yae praises, looking at the picture on your phone. It displays a silver necklace, a tear drop topaz encased in a diamond twist. It pairs well with the dress you bought with Ayaka last week, an elegant fit that accentuated your curves.

However.

“He chose that for you, didn't he?”

The stoic line of Ayato's mouth twitches and his eyes can't help but sweep over your screen, scrutinizing each grainy pixel.

Though he has plenty of insults prepared at his arsenal, he can't find anything to nitpick about. Damn it. It's a good choice.

“You'll look stunning,” Kokomi assures good-naturedly, smiling in delight. Ayato does not doubt that will be the case, but he's sure he would be in a foul mood the entire night if he were to see you adorning it.

He has already retrieved his coffee from the break room so he excuses himself to his office, long strides that lead him out of earshot.

As a result, he doesn't hear the following conversation.

“Why this, though?” Kokomi asks, looking closely at the accessory. “It's a simple design. Doesn't look like something a man would pick from the rest.”

You shake your head. “I just told him I wanted something blue, and I couldn't choose myself because there were too many that caught my eye...”

“Blue?” She echoes, a simple curiosity. “Why blue?”

“...It's a pretty color.”

--

It is an actual coincidence that Ayato runs into you in the middle of shopping.

You're hunched over a display stand showcasing a variety of earrings, deep in thought as you observe each one. You're doing that thing where you scrunch your nose in concentration, a habit Ayato doesn't think you even realize you have.

“Fancy meeting you here, Ms. [Surname].”

(He wonders what face you would've made if he said “You go here often?” instead. Probably some degree of disgust.)

You blink, correcting your posture and nodding in greeting. You don't look particularly thrilled to see him, but at least you're unbothered by the prospect of seeing your boss on a free day. “You're here to shop too, Mr. Kamisato?”

Ayato smiles amicably. “I am. Were you planning to buy earrings?”

“Yes, but...” Your gaze returns to the display, your own smile faltering. “It is a bit difficult to choose.”

He walks over, scanning the variety up and down. “Is it really? You only need to choose a pair that matches your necklace, right?” He focuses on shades of silver, bypassing the vibrant colors of reds and pinks. Not even fifteen seconds later, he picks out a card and holds it out next to your ear. “This one looks nice on you.”

“Huh? Really?” Perhaps surprised by his swiftness, it takes you a moment to react accordingly. You take the card from his hands and flip it over, eyes widening by a fraction. “Oh. It is rather pretty.” Then they widen further as big as saucers. “I can't say the same for the price tag, though.”

“Hm? What price tag?”

He plucks the earrings from your hands, walks to the counter, and pays for it without a second thought.

“M-Mr. Kamisato?”

“Pull up your hair.”

“Eh? Oh, okay.”

You're so caught off guard that you unwittingly do as he says, tucking your hair back obediently and still processing the last two minutes.

His fingers tug at your ear, warmth bleeding to your skin, and by the time you return to reality, he's already putting the earrings on you.

STORY FLOW.

ok i lied i actually can't remember shit about this fic so i will be making up stuff as i go lol

what i do remember clearly is that the resignation notice that ayato found on your desk is years old. you meant to submit it way, way back when ayato was tougher on you, and you weren't as well-adjusted as you are now to the job yet. as stated in the fic, being ayato's secretary is no easy task—he'd fired countless people he thought was incompetent.

you fought a number of times, and you didn't know if you could keep up working for a man you thought was simply incompatible with you (in terms of being colleagues/partners).

but over time, you learned to work together. ayato acknowledged your efforts and hard work, and you knew ayato had been trying to give you less jobs to reduce your workload, but you were going to prove that hou could handle it.

what truly made you appreciate ayato more was when you got stranded at the train station. you dealt with a far company they collaborated with, but work ended later than expected, and you'd missed the last train home. taxis were an option, but youd have to go through several of them to get back. right when you were thinking of checking into a hotel, ayato informed you he was already on his way and drove a couple of hours to get where you were to bring you home.

time continued to pass, and that brings us back to the present. you were on the process of cleaning up your desk and left the old resignation notice out in the open by accident, which led to ayato seeing it.

it is very apparent to the others that you two like each other, but the involved parties themselves are unaware of it. you currently aren't eager to get married, but you were trying to meet people so your parents would stop bugging you about still being single.

anyway, ayato bought those earrings for you. timeskip to the corporate event. you unconsciously picked a blue motif for your outfit because it reminds you of ayato.

when you get there, surprise, surprise. the man you were meeting, kazuha is a bigwig, heir to some other corporation. he actually owned that cruise he invited you to and pretended he didn't because you might be intimidated. ayato didn't think the kazuha he knew and the kazuha you knew were the same person, and now the advantage he had over him was ruled out (i.e being rich). (actually while i was rereading i was surprised i didn't mention that it was kazuha...? istg i was imagining him the whole time i wrote about him)

anyhow, as it became later in the night, ayato wanted to get you home before kazuha could offer to drive you back or worse, spend the night with him. ayato acted drunk so you'd tend to him and accompany him home while his driver was in charge of taking you to his apartment. as you were nagging at him, he compared your interactions with him to yours and kazuha's. you were certainly nicer to that man. smiled at him a lot more, too. did you really like him that much?

if you did, could he let you go?

he was ashamed that he couldn't answer it right away. as if he had any right to whatever you do.

you carried him to bed when you got to his apartment, but when you were preparing to leave, he hugged you from behind. do you like that man? why do you want to leave me? why can't it be me? ayato was just pretending to be drunk, but he felt dizzy now, soaked in your scent. he said things that he wasn't supposed to. things that he couldn't take back. things that would change your relationship forever.

slowly, you took away the hands wrapped around your waist. ayato figured that was a message of rejection.

but then you pushed him back down on the bed and you straddled his lap. his mind was silent for but a few seconds before he started screaming mentally.

i've always wanted you, but i knew it was impossible. you have a fiancee. i'm an ordinary worker. your family won't accept me. ayato's mind was in a daze because your face was so close to his, and all he could see was the red, glossy shade on your lips, but he managed to hear those few sentences.

it doesn't matter. nothing else matters. i can't marry if it's not you. if you accept me, i swear i'll make you happy.

from here on, it could be a happy, fluffy ending where turns out, you were tipsy so you were more honest with him and you fell asleep in the middle of kissing so he took it upon himself to change your dress into something more comfortable and end the night with a forehead kiss...

...or you could continue what you were doing and the first thing ayato takes off is the damned necklace so he could replace it with a smattering of hickeys. your choice ^^

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚🔪・₊✧ 𝘁𝗼𝗷𝗶 𝗶𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝘁. 𝟭₊˚🔪・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 obsessed at the first glance 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 masturbation (toji time) 𖥔 "she's mine even if she doesn't know it yet" 𖥔 age gap 𖥔 he's downright depraved for you

: ̗̀➛ word count: 3.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: happy new year, mamas! and happy belated birthday to my baby daddy. y'all have no idea how fun it is to write toji fics. i've got a hundred already lined up. i'm going to make this a full series but for now here is part one of what's about to come (haha get it? oh god. i need help)

The first time Toji laid his eyes on you was the morning after he’d finished yet another one of his assassination cases.

There you were, seated on a picnic mat, a serene oasis in the bustling sea of activity. The wind danced through your hair, and you were engrossed in a book, your legs tucked comfortably beneath you. The music in your headphones created a private sanctuary, shielding you from the cacophony of playful children, picnicking families, and the vibrant hum of the city's summer.

Toji found himself rooted to the spot.

Oblivious to the annoyed cyclists and the world rushing past him, he stood there, captivated. It was as though he had stumbled upon a deity crafted solely for him.

You briefly raised your gaze, taking a momentary break from the confines of the small text.

Toji couldn't believe his luck as he found himself mesmerized by the tantalizing sight before him. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure, a telltale bulge in his sweatpants betrayed the mark you had on him. There you were, blissfully unaware, sipping from a water bottle that seemed almost rehearsed.

His fixation deepened as he observed every nuance of your movements—the curve of your mouth, the delicate way your throat accommodated the liquid, and the small hands that gripped the oversized bottle. He imagined his cock instead and flinched from the way his dick twitched. The simple act of you licking your lower lip and unbuttoning the top buttons of your dress shirt to fan yourself from the heat sent shivers down his spine.

You just had to start tying your hair up. 

Taking a deep breath, Toji briskly walked towards a nearby public restroom and locked himself in one of the vacant stalls.

His back pressed against the wall as he lowered his sweatpants and pulled his thick, trembling cock out, pre-cum trickling from the tip. He lowered his eyes and visualized you on your knees, grabbing his cock and circling your small, pink tongue around his tip. His head cruised back as you swallowed his length to the back of your warm throat, gagging, gasping, choking, bobbing your head back and forth. His fingers tightly held onto your tender scalp, fucking himself into your pretty, little mouth until your nose was crushed against his pelvis. He heard you begging, pleading, scratching at his hips to give you a breather, but Toji relentlessly fed you his cock, over and over and over—

Spurts of release erupted and splattered onto the stall's wall, with droplets dripping onto the floor. Toji opened his eyes only to find the space where your apparition was supposed to linger now empty. His hand was sticky and hot, smudged in the mess he’d made envisioning you. You. It was you who had provoked this intense response, causing him to reach a climax faster than ever before.

As Toji cleaned himself up, he couldn't ignore the unabashed stares from the onlookers, men who had clearly overheard him masturbating. Ignoring the judgmental gazes, he focused on formulating a plan to claim you, even if you fought or opposed it; he was convinced that, in time, you would surrender.

In his mind, you were already his.

Toji lingered for the next few hours on that park bench, focused on you. His eyes traced every move you made, absorbed in that stupid book of yours, oblivious to the frisbees and kites dancing above you. His gaze burned into the teenage boys engaged in soccer behind you, fuming as they carelessly neared you with the ball. Especially the one you beamed at after he half-heartedly apologized to you.

Fuck, that smile of yours was irreplaceable.

As you packed your mat into the duffle bag and rose, turning to dust your ass off from any debris sticking to it, Toji's thoughts took a blunt turn. Sleep was an impossibility now.

Following discreetly as you strolled down the path, immersed in the rhythm of your ear-throbbing music, Toji couldn't help but dissect every inch of you. Your clothes, undoubtedly high-end and branded, spoke volumes. The price tag on your headphones alone easily flirted with seven hundred dollars, if not more. It was clear—you came from a life of comfort, perhaps a spoiled heir or held a proud position in some grand corporation. You were proving to be a challenging prize, a fish that refused to be easily caught.

You decided to take a pit stop at a vegan café where they charged an arm and a leg for a tiny cup of espresso.

Patiently, Toji lingered outside, cigarette dangling from his lips, the ember casting shadows on his sharp features. Peering through the glass, he caught glimpses of your animated conversation with a male barista. Though, the bastard's eyes were shamelessly speaking to your cleavage.

Toji hadn’t killed anyone for fun in a while; maybe the lanky fucker was going to start a new streak. 

As you emerged, holding your iced coffee and muffin like some divine offering, he noticed the scribbles on the napkin. Ah, the barista's number, huh? The son-of-a-bitch just signed his own death warrant.

With a flick of your wrist, you crumpled the napkin and tossed it into the trash, conveniently placed right next to him.

Your eyes locked.

The cigarette in Toji's mouth hung suspended in a moment that seemed to stretch forever. Your gaze shot up as you took in the powerful physique of the man, the scar tracing its path on his left lip, and the black, sleek strands of hair framing those perilous, obsidian-green eyes. He was more than just attractive; he was a magnetic force, and you could feel the tingling of anxiety dancing on your skin. Too bad your family had always drummed into you the importance of polished over rugged.

Despite the internal turmoil, you turned on your heel and continued walking, nonchalantly sipping on your cold coffee to ease the tension building within you. There was an undeniable urge to steal one last glance at him, an itch in your brain pushing you to do so. With feigned composure, you added an extra sway to your hips, aware that his eyes were still on you.

Toji’s eyes were glued to your ass. Was he breathing? Nope. He was sure he’d busted his cover just then. You had checked him out for thirty whole seconds, the opportunity to speak suspended in the air, only to be pulled apart and crumble at his feet. 

But he didn’t care. 

He shadowed your every move, navigating through busy intersections, seamlessly blending into the teeming masses, keeping up with only the sway of your swinging ponytail and your ass. Fuck, he loved your ass. He wanted to spank it red, bruise the flesh for teasing you. 

Finally, you stepped into the most luxurious hotel in the city.

Toji wondered if you were a local or a visitor from abroad. If he had to purchase a plane ticket to tail you back to your residence, he'd gladly do it. It was insane how unknowingly you had him trapped, wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger.

The lobby was nothing short of fucking fancy.

The place was decked out with marble floors that shone so much he could almost see his reflection. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, sparkling with a zillion crystals.

The furniture was all plush and comfortable, like sinking into a cloud. Big, ornate couches and chairs scattered around, all in rich, deep colors.

In the middle was a fancy concierge desk with people in sharp suits and friendly smiles ready to help out. He caught a whiff of some subtle, expensive scent in the air—not too overpowering, just enough to make him feel like he was out of place.

There was a low hum of activity—people chatting, the clinking of glasses from the bar nearby, maybe some soft piano music in the background. He couldn't help but feel a bit important just standing there like he'd stepped into a world where everything was a little more polished and refined.

He was in hell.

"Dad!" you exclaimed, striding towards your father amidst a crowd of his guards and members of the family hotel enterprise board.

"Darling!" Your father embraced you briefly, then caught a whiff of something unusual around you. "Were you smoking?"

Shit. 

That attractive stranger from before had been smoking and the scent must’ve stuck to your clothes. 

"I bumped into a friend who was," you lied, acknowledging your father's associates with a nod. Your current appearance didn't exactly match the polished image your mother presented to the press, but it was a facet appreciated by some online fans. As the heiress to the family hotel, however, you understood the importance of maintaining grace.

Even on your days-off. 

"How was your meeting?" you asked.

"Same old, same old. Nothing for you to worry about," he replied dismissively.

"I mean, shouldn't I be involved? I'm almost twenty-one. It might be time for me to learn the ropes of managing—"

"I'm still around, aren't I?" Your father pushed your arm, causing you to stagger slightly. "Why don't you go freshen up now? We have a family dinner tonight." Family dinners, in this case, were elaborate affairs with your father and mother's vast social circles, almost a societal event. Unfortunately, everything was hosted at the hotel, making you feel like you were in a gilded cage.

"Sure, Dad."

He planted a quick kiss on your cheek and walked past you.

You stared at his retreating figure and the group of men you would eventually be working with, all of them vanishing through the hotel's automatic doors until the lights surrounding you became a blur. Your fingers touched your wet eyes, the back of your shaky hand wiping at your cheeks.

Despite the hurt, your training to act classy in public kicked in. You rolled back your shoulders, attempted a smile, and walked toward the elevators leading to your personal suite.

Observing the unfolding scenario from a discreet vantage point nearby, Toji, with arms and ankles casually crossed, wore a devilish smirk at how effortlessly the situation had played into his hands.

His room was on the twelfth floor. 

It served as a temporary base for the two nights he had planned to stay. Plenty of time, in his calculation, to claim you as his own. He walked the fine line between confidence and cockiness, especially when dealing with a woman of your caliber. If he were to leave empty-handed, Toji carried a darkness within that would annihilate those you loved, a merciless flood of destruction until you had no choice but to turn to him. His sights were set on you, beginning with your pretentious father.

Yes, Toji had researched each and every single human associated with you. 

Your father was a titan in the hospitality game and built an empire that stretched across the map. His hotels sprouted like mushrooms, and his wealth skyrocketed faster than you could say "check-in." He portrayed himself as the picture-perfect family man, but lurking in the shadows were dealings that'd make you think twice about tagging him with the 'daddy dear' label. During one of his many interviews, he let slip a desire for a son. When the inevitable talk of you inheriting the hotels surfaced, he'd chuckle, saying, "We'll see about that."

Toji absentmindedly toyed with his pocket knife, thinking of ways he’d cut your father’s tongue and shove it down his throat. 

Then there's your mom, the classic trophy wife. No accomplishments to her name, just born into a world of idle gossip and social climbing. Since you were in diapers, she's been molding you into the picture-perfect daughter for the public eye. Nannies raised you, and she only paid attention when it came to playing matchmaker, setting you up with aristocratic jerks.

Toji might spare your mother only because she was an airhead being puppeteered by your father’s gimmicks. 

You, on the contrary, were as perfect as one could get. Top of your class all through elementary to high school, currently enrolled in a business Ivy program at a prestigious university, president of the student union, and an active team player in clubs as absurd as juggling.

Your carefully crafted social media presence had Toji rolling his eyes. An avid reader who probably devoured Shakespeare in between saving the world and a lover of sunsets because nothing said depth like a passion for the fading light. Your commitment to wildlife, starting a charity for animals in captivity that was funded strictly by your family's friends. He bet the lions and tigers sent you thank-you cards.

Toji forcefully closed his laptop, took a deep breath, and sank into his mattress, gripping the roots of his hair.

He knew he wanted you. He wanted to touch you, to be inside of you, to break you and put you together again. The image of you being pushed by your father played in his mind, making his heart threaten to burst from his chest.

Despite the depraved thoughts, Toji was genuinely curious about you. The real you. The person seeking love in the same way you offered it to others. He wanted to fuck you but also take great care of you. He wanted to make you cry, but only when you were underneath him, begging for more. He’d kill himself if he hurt you otherwise. He questioned if a dormant monster within you waiting to be awakened by his own.

There had to be. 

And he would be the one to root it out.

Toji pulled himself together, took a quick shower, and threw on the best outfit he had found in his cramped closet within his even more cramped apartment while packing. Living in close quarters didn't bother him; after all, his income came from a rather unconventional source—he was a professional assassin, taking out targets for clients that ranged from politicians to drug dealers. Penthouses and sports cars weren't his style, even if he could afford them; he preferred the simple life, spending most of his earnings on one thing he enjoyed the most: gambling on horse racing.

Knowing that you'd be at the bar, Toji decided to do a bit of reconnaissance. He hacked into the private security servers of the hotel, observing your movements from the corridor to the public areas. He saw you leaving your room in a stunning maroon gown, hair elegantly pinned up, and lips painted a vibrant red. His dick jerked in his trousers.

He spotted you alone at the bar, enjoying a cyan-colored drink. The smooth expanse of your back in that revealing dress nearly made him come in his pants right there and then.

Cracking his neck muscles, Toji walked up to the bartender, positioning himself about two meters away from where you sat. He pulled out a cigarette and flicked the silver lighter, flaming the end of the dart. Drawing in the first drag, he exhaled a plume of smoke. “I’ll take a whiskey.” 

Giving you a casual once-over, Toji noticed you tracing circles on the table, lips in a pout, and eyes blinking languidly.

“Rough day?” he asked, settling into the seat beside you.

“You have no idea—” You looked sideways and met the dark green eyes of the attractive stranger. Your nails were now idle on the table, and you sat up straight. A breath caught in your chest, and you greeted him with a simple "Hi."

“Hi.” He pulled out the cigarette to take a sip, lips pulling in to savor the sharp taste of his whiskey. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, sweetheart.” 

Your chest skipped a beat at the unexpected nickname. "I-I— Are you stalking me or something?"

“Stalking is a strong word, doll. I prefer 'casual observation.'”

“So you’re stalking me?” 

The stranger chuckled, and your knees quivered from the husky, rough sound. “You're a vision, sure,” he said, his voice a slight victim to the smoking, “but I’m too much of a gentleman to do such a thing.” 

You observed his clothes closely. He was dressed in a sleek black formal ensemble with impeccably shiny Oxfords. However, his hair was neatly combed down instead of styled up, and you caught the silver hoop adorning his left ear. The idea of him being sent by your mother or being the son of one of your father's friends quickly crossed your mind, but you ruled out the possibility. Maybe him being outside that café and being here was a complete coincidence.

“The name’s Toji.” He extended his hand for a shake. You glanced at the faded scars on the back of his hands. And when you hesitantly slipped your hand through his, the roughness of his palm rubbed against your softer one. “Ever washed a dish in your life, sweetheart?” 

A shake of your head was all the admission he needed.

"Yeah, figured as much." Toji turned your hand, his thumb tracing a journey along its unblemished terrain.

You quickly took back your hand and placed it on your lap. “I’m sure you know my name.” 

Toji tilted his head. “Am I supposed to?” 

You blinked. In a world where your family name echoed through the corridors of the hotel, his genuine ignorance was a rarity. "I'm Y/N.”

"Y/N," he echoed, your name a lazy caress on your skin. Above the rim of his nearly empty glass, he regarded you with a watchful gaze. “The fuck is that, anyway? Windex?” 

You raised your drink. “It’s a mocktail. I have a family dinner in an hour so I can’t drink. My father says it’ll impede my ability to talk. I can’t mess anything up.” 

He half-rolled his eyes. “You like Coke?” 

“Like, the soda?” 

"What else, sweetheart?" He swiped a finger under his nose, throwing in a wink. "Unless that's your thing."

“No.” Your cheeks heated. “I like diet Coke, I suppose.” 

Toji locked eyes with you and signaled the bartender. "Vodka diet coke for the lady."

"What?" You started to object, but Toji's hand clasped around your forearm, freezing you. “Remove your hand right now.” 

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin playing on his lips. If he weren't so irritatingly charming, you might have considered introducing your mocktail to his face with a quick call to security as a chaser. “Just don’t want you to die knowing you never tried vodka.” His cheeks hollowed as he inhaled, exhaling wisps of smoke that danced in captivating swirls. “Ever smoked?” 

You shook your head, a coy resistance to his vices obvious on your face. "It's detrimental to your health, you know. Consistent smoking can fast-track your journey to an early death. If you're aiming for more than thirty candles on your birthday cake, I'd advise a little moderation."

A sardonic chuckle escaped him. “Well, fuck.” He inspected the dart in his hand as if it held the secrets of the universe. “Guess I missed the invitation for my funeral five years ago.”

He’s old. 

“Too old for you, sweetheart?” He dipped his head conspiratorially, locking eyes with you. "Hope you're not collecting a set of daddy issues like souvenirs."

You shot him sidelong glances, a subtle shake of your head. "I happen to like my dad, thank you very much."

“You’re welcome.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a small puff of a laugh at his response. 

He shot you a grin, his scar stealing a moment of your attention before the vodka diet Coke presented itself. “You still in school?” 

You nodded. “University.” 

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Keeps me distracted.” 

“From?” 

Your hand swept through the ambience of the hotel's bar, and Toji followed your motion, absorbing the surroundings. “I don’t know if my name rang a bell at all, but I’m to inherit this place.” 

“Didn’t.” Toji raised his glass, gesturing his chin at the vodka diet coke in front of you. “Let’s drink to it.” 

“I told you I can’t. I’m also lightweight. Besides, I don’t want it on my tab. My father keeps a check—”

“My father this, my father that.” Toji sighed, taking your drink and snagging a straw from a nearby container. He placed it near your lips. “Your father might have set the stage, but he can't dictate the play. Take a sip. If you hate it, fuck it. That work for you, sweetheart?"

You frowned at the subtle pressure venting from him. A fleeting swipe of your tongue traced your lower lip, drawing Toji's gaze to the subtle curve. His intense scrutiny left you feeling strangely singled out, a rare occurrence in a world where every tidbit of your life laid at the fingertips of anyone with an internet connection. Your secrets were a vault locked tight, shared with no one but yourself. Indulging in personal interests took a back seat to your responsibilities, and you strictly stuck to a scripted persona to protect your family's reputation. Even something as mundane as sipping on a vodka diet Coke. 

Toji set the drink on the table, slipping a generous tip to the bartender. His financial status seemed modest, likely someone comfortably positioned enough to book a room in your hotel. “Listen, sweetheart, I don’t often give out advice ‘cuz frankly, I'm not exactly an expert on your generation.” He took a final drag of his cigarette, extinguished it under his foot, and nonchalantly dropped the remains into your drink. “But, you might want to dust off that brilliant little brain of yours sooner rather than later. Mind passing me a pen, buddy?” 

The tender handed him a sharpie instead, and Toji scribbled out something on a napkin.

“Are you leaving?” you asked, feeling somewhat disappointed in yourself. You wanted him to ask you more questions. You wanted to know more about him. 

“Afraid so, doll.” He folded the napkin, both of you surreptitiously scanning the surroundings before he handed it over. A smirk played on his lips, causing you to rethink the urgency with which you accepted it. “Your old man taught you lots of lessons, but seems like 'Stranger Danger' wasn't part of his curriculum, huh?” 

“He doesn’t completely control me.” 

Toji smirked, tapping the folded napkin. “Well, we're about to test that theory."

He left you perched on the barstool, and the moment he vanished, you unfolded the napkin, heart pounding.

ROOM 1231. 

Sooner or later.

[minihotdog]

Caught Red handed // Part 2

Summary: Soap Catches His Roommate Reading an Erotic Novel AGAIN

Part 1

Pairing: John "Soap" Mactavish x Fem!Reader

a/n: I've been sick as a dog and I'm not the happiest about how this one turned out so I'll write a soap fic with a little more punishment in the future when I don't feel like my insides are melting

c/w: P in V, biting, aftercare

word count: 2k

***

Johnny made it clear that he didn’t want to catch you reading dirty books again, but you’re only human. Your newly discovered love for the genre made it impossible to stay away. 

You picked up a new one at the bookstore, this time with a more discrete cover. The summary described a romance between a woman and her soldier husband. It was a love that stands the test of time and struggle as he changes from the horrors he’s seen. Upon getting home and settling down to read it, you quickly discovered that wasn’t the case. The book was downright rancid, a crime almost. You’d gotten comfortable in your PJs and fuzzy socks excited to dive into the story only to receive a figurative slap to the face.

He was so desperate to breed her. His rough and violent thrusts almost put her head through the wall.

“Be my good little wife and take my load.”

“When I come back you better be holding my kid in your arms waiting for me to put another one in you.”

Your hand was over your mouth as your eyes scanned every sentence multiple times to ensure you didn’t pull them from your imagination.

You couldn’t help but imagine Johnny as the character. The author went into detail about the male character sitting and watching his high school sweetheart, turned wife, undress for him. How his thick thighs took up the entirety of the chair and his cock rested to the side atop the dense muscle, all you could see was Johnny with his evil little smirk and shaggy hair he’d grown out on leave.

The jangling of keys on the other side of the front door rips you from your fantasies. You jolt upwards and run towards your bedroom to stash the book in your nightstand. You’d been sleeping with Johnny in his bed so there wasn’t a possibility of him accidentally stumbling on it.

You waltz out of your room coming face to face with Johnny. You jump, clutching your chest with a squeak.

“Johnny! You scared the shit out of me!”

He looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Wha’ are ye up tae?”

“What?! Nothing, just getting a heart attack from you.”

He fakes a quick step towards you and your arms instinctively shoot to the walls blocking him. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving your lips a peck. He rests his forehead on yours.

“Yer hidin’ somethin’ an’ I’m gonnae find out wha’ it is.” He squints at you before turning into the kitchen.  

Damn it! Why did I do that?!!

You try to keep an eye on Johnny to make sure he won’t go snooping, but the moment he wraps his arms around you the book is completely forgotten. The two of you cuddle on the couch to watch reruns of old shows together. He runs his hand up and down your side kissing down your shoulder. He settles on your waist and his thumb caresses the little bit of exposed skin. He nibbles on your neck and slips his hand under your tank top taking a handful of your breast.

“You’re worse than a dog in a rut!” You slap his hand away.

“Cannae help masel’ when I’m wi’ ye, bonnie.” He whines, nuzzling his nose into your neck. His hips grind into you and he lets out a groan.  

“Johnny, I haven’t showered today.” Your complaining falls on deaf ears as his arms wrap tighter around you. “Let me goooo!”

“Fine, if it makes ye stop fussin’.” He huffs as you sit up. He crosses his arms making a high-pitched ‘hmphf’. 

“I’ll be back, hun.” You lean down to give him a quick kiss.

Johnny waits for the shower to turn on before springing into action. He tosses the blanket to the side and tip-toes down the hallway determined to figure out what you’d been hiding earlier. He enters your room and begins looking around. He opens your closet, makes a mess of your desk drawers until he stumbles over to your nightstand. He pulls the drawer open and discovers the dark-covered book you tossed in there. The cover looked innocent enough, a soldier walking hand in hand with a woman in a pink sun dress. He flips the book over to read the summary. His eyes scan the text and he lets out a quiet ‘awww’ before opening it to a random page in the middle. 

“Jesus Christ, bonnie, wha’ are ye readin’ now?” His eyes go wide for a moment and he sucks his teeth.

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a towel before walking into his bedroom. You pick through his dresser for your clothes. He insisted you move some of your clothes to his room but they quickly got buried under his. You pick out your favorite striped pj shorts and an old shirt of his that you cut into a crop top. You walk out of his room heading back to the couch only to be stopped in your tracks when you notice the door of your room wide open and the light on. 

FUCK!

You quiet your footsteps and slowly peek into the room. You see him sitting on your bed, drawer open, and a very familiar object in his hands. You decide that the best thing you can do is hide but as you shift your weight onto your back foot the floor creaks.

“Bonnie!” He calls out. The stern tone in his voice makes you jump. “Come ower here.” You silently freak the fuck out before poking your head through the door.

“Yes, honey?”

The look on his face pulls you into the door frame.

“Wha’ did I tell ye no tae be readin’ the kin o’ books?”

Shit. He’s mad.

His accent gets rougher and you know for a fact that he’s not happy with this discovery.

You’re quick to defend yourself.

“I swear I didn’t know!” You blurt out. “The summary was so cute I didn’t think it was gonna be like that.”

He looks down, closing the book before looking back at you.

“Ye jus’ bought it? Didn’t ye open it up afore haund?”

His eyebrows furrow. His intense gaze burrows into you waiting for an answer. You chew on your bottom lip. He was always able to get the truth out of you. He knew you couldn’t stand being at the receiving end of his glare. You begin fumbling your fingers.

“I may have read a chapter at the store.” He throws his head back with a groan upon hearing the confession. “BUT, it wasn’t like the rest of the book, I swear!”

His jaw clenches for a second and he shakes his head.

“Oh bonnie, wha’ am I gonnae dae wi’ ye?” He mutters as he stands, shaking the book at you before tossing it onto the bed. He calmly walks towards you. He towers over you and one of his hands tangles itself in your hair pulling just enough to make you look straight up at him. 

“Yer a pure bad lassie. Cannae even heed simple orders.” 

He suddenly takes you by the arm and walks you into his room.

“Nasty wee thing,” He growls, forcing you onto the bed. “Can’t follow directions. Hidin’ things from me.” He sucks his teeth as his hands rush to yank your shirt off. He gives you no time to reorient yourself before he pushes you onto your back.

He climbs onto the bed and straddles you gripping your wrists in one hand. He grabs your chin forcing you to look up at him.

“Needy fuckin’ whore, aren’t ye?”

“Johnny, I’m sorry.” You whine trying to break out of his grip.

He scoffs, “We’ll see about tha’.”

He yanks his sweats off. You watch him closely hoping that he’ll change his mind about this punishment. His size becomes more apparent with the anger radiating off of him. 

“Baby, I promise I won’t do it anymore.” He ignores your pleas. Your eyes trail down and you see he’s rock-hard. He lays his weight on you biting at your neck. His bare cock presses against you over your shorts. His free hand goes to your breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it in his fingers. You half-mindedly grind against him.

“Oh no, Lassie. Yer not getting what you want just yet.”

He kisses down your chest capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue plays with the sensitive nub. He slides his arm under your thigh, bringing one leg to his waist. His fingers run over your clothed cunt and he groans.

“Yer soaked. My wee slut is so wet fur me.” His voice rasps. His mouth moves to your other breast. Your nails dig into your palms when his teeth graze the nub.

“Baby, please,” You cry out, needing to feel him inside you. The ache was becoming too much to bear and he was so close. His scent only helped to cloud your brain and the heat radiating off of him was setting you ablaze.

“So impatient.” He taunts as he pulls away to work your shorts down your legs to reveal the wet patch on your panties that had become transparent. He chokes out a moan at the sight,

“So fuckin’ wet.”

He slips his fingers underneath the fabric at your hips and in a swift motion pulls them until they rip. You gasp, eyes shooting down at him. He’d never acted this way in bed, he’d usually undress you with a thousand kisses, making sure his lips touched every bit of exposed skin until he reached where you wanted him most, he’d slow down for a moment and place a kiss on your clit before devouring you whole and leaving you with soul-crushing orgasm before the big finale. This time he restrains himself leaving your hips bucking for his touch. In this moment, you missed your sweet and caring Johnny.

“I know wha’ ye want, bonnie.” He looks up at you with his little evil smirk. “I’m not gonna treat ye like my princess when yer not actin’ like one.”

Before you can protest his fingers begin playing at your entrance. He slides two of his thick digits into you. Your breath hitches feeling the calloused skin inside you. He pumps his fingers, curling them into that special spot.

“So tight.” He breaths out, occasionally flicking your clit with his thumb. You want him inside you so bad your head is spinning. He lowers his head dropping his tongue to your clit, he couldn’t help himself, his head belonged in between your legs and he couldn’t fight that.

He continues moving his fingers in and out of you, grazing your g-spot each time. His tongue circles your clit and you throw your head back into the pillows. Your pants fill the room, your wrists aching.

“Johnnyyyyy.” Your back arches as he speeds up. His eyes almost roll back listening to your whines.

He feels you tighten against his fingers, waiting for the right moment. 

“Hmmmm.” You tighten around him once more and he pulls away from you, denying you of your release. Your head shoots up and he’s sucking the wetness off his fingers. He chuckles at the frustrated look on your face.

“That’s not fair!”

“Oh, but it is, only good girls get tae cum.”

He leans over you on his elbow grabbing a handful of your hair. He pulls your head back, the pain forcing a whine from your lips. “No woman of mine will be readin’ filth about another man.” His lips graze the side of your face. “I’m the only man ye should fantasizin’ about. I’m the only one who’s cock ye should be thinkin’ of.”

“You are! You’re the only man I think about!”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

He slides himself into you and your body tenses up at the intrusion. He coos at you as you try to adjust to his length. He forces your head to the side and his lips are on yours. He deepens the kiss attempting to capture your tongue with his. He uses the kiss as a distraction to slide the rest of himself into you. He buries himself to the hilt and you gasp into the kiss. He moans softly, breaking away from your lips and resting his head in the crook of your neck. The feeling of being inside you was almost too much for him to bear. So warm and wet, the nerves on his cock fire off when the tip finds your soft cervix.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” He pants into your skin. “This pussy is pure sin.”

He gathers himself before he begins moving. He slides in and out of you and your lips part slightly, eyes clamped shut. He releases shaky breaths, the tightness making his head spin.

“O’ fuck!” He thrusts slowly, pulling away slightly to enjoy the view of him disappearing inside you. His free hand grabs your waist to keep you from sliding away from him as his pace picks up. Your mind goes blank, the stretch of his cock is intoxicating. His thrusts jolt you upwards forcing whines from you. 

“Johnny, please let me touch you.”

“Promise me no more of those fuckin’ books,” He breaths into your necks.

“I promise, I promise, I promise!” You chant. Your voice comes out pathetic and desperate. He releases your wrists, his arms sliding under your body to wrap around you. Your hands fly to his back, nails digging into his skin. He pounds into you relentlessly, your eyesight blurs, and your back struggles to arch against his weight. 

His name falls from you in a chant mixed with small gasps. The bed creaks loudly as his hips slam into the underside of your soft thighs. Your legs wrap around his waist, hands grasping at him for dear life. He moans into your neck, his rasps hitting your skin along with his ragged breaths.

“Oh god, Johnny!” Your mouth hangs open. The feeling of him filling you up so perfectly leaves you almost in a trance-like state, unable to think or form a single thought. 

“Ye take me so well, bonnie, don’t ye?”

He tightens his hold on you, the tight squeeze around his cock has him almost drooling. Your warm velvet walls test him every time, he uses every bit of strength he has to not finish too soon when he buries himself inside you. His tip kissing your cervix shoots pleasure through the both of you. He swears little invisible hearts circle his head every time you whimper out his name.

He digs his teeth into your neck, marking you. “Mine. All mine.” He groans into the now red flesh. He frees one of his arms from under you and begins massaging your clit begging to feel you clamp down around him. 

“Bonnie, ye feel tae good. Cum on my cock, ye been a good girl.” You moan in response. “Gonnae fill ye up nice and deep. Ye want tha’?”

You nod frantically. Your pussy flutters warning him of your impending orgasm. He continues his pace as he whispers pure filth into your ear. Telling you how much he loves your pussy, how you belong to him and only him. You try to warn him but it hits hard and fast, before you know it you’re a mess beneath him. Nails dragging down his skin leaving red lines, your pussy spasming around him pulling over the edge.

He ruts into you shooting thick streams onto your walls. You feel him twitching inside you as he thrusts his cum deeper into you. “Take it all, bonnie.”

He continues thrusting, dragging out your orgasm. Your pussy clamps down on him milking him for all he’s worth leaving you twitching from the overstimulation.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He slows his movements letting out a deep breath before locking eyes with you. A goofy smile appears on his lips causing you to giggle. He mummers a “C’mere,” before kissing you sweetly. He slides out of you slowly as he caresses your thigh.

“Let’s get ye cleaned up,” He plants a kiss on your forehead before wrapping his arms around you once more and lifting you onto his lap. He slides the both of you off the bed and carries you into the bathroom putting you down gently on the counter. He turns the shower on and while the two of you wait for the water to heat up he peppers your face with kisses. 

He carries you into the shower letting you steady yourself on your feet before pulling you to his chest. The warm water runs over his shoulders flowing down your back. His lips brush the top of your head.

“I love you, bonnie.” He whispers.

[connieisthesun]

Chemistry and Cadavers - Conrad fisher x reader

Chapter Summary - You, a bright-eyed sophomore college student majoring in biology stumble upon Conrad fisher, an attractive yet forgetful student who happens to forget his pen on his first day of class...

Warnings - Fluff, teasing, super cute tbh haha

*Authors note* - So I've decided to start a new series due to the nonexistent amount of new tsitp fic's here lmao, if you enjoy a like a repost would be appreciated. Let me know if you have any feedback to improve my writing. Enjoy loves!

Chapter 1: Chemistry and Cadavers

The crisp autumn air on the college campus was invigorating, bringing with it the promise of a new academic year filled with possibilities. The campus was alive with the sounds of students hurrying to their classes, the rustling of leaves in the trees, and the distant hum of chatter from the quad. Among the new faces and returning students was Y/N, a bright and ambitious sophomore majoring in biology.

Y/N had always been passionate about the sciences, and this year, she was especially excited about her anatomy and physiology class. Little did she know that her enthusiasm for the subject would lead to a series of events that would change her college experience in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

As she walked into the lecture hall, she noticed the familiar faces of her classmates and scanned the room for an available seat. She spotted a spot in the middle of the room and made her way over, settling into her chair just as the professor walked in.

“Good morning, everyone,” the professor greeted, his voice carrying a tone of authority and excitement. “Today, we’re diving into the intricacies of human anatomy, and I have a feeling this semester is going to be an exciting journey.”

Y/N smiled to herself, her excitement bubbling over as the professor began the lecture. She took out her notebook, ready to absorb every detail of the day’s lesson. As the lecture progressed, she couldn’t help but notice the student sitting a few rows ahead of her, who seemed to be struggling with his notes and the lecture material. He had tousled brown hair, a laid-back demeanor, and an occasional frustrated glance at his notes.

When the lecture ended, Y/N gathered her things and headed out of the lecture hall, intending to grab a coffee before her next class. As she walked through the bustling hallway, she was approached by a friendly voice.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!”

She turned to see her friend Lila catching up with her. “Hey, Lila! What’s up?”

“I heard you were in the anatomy lecture this morning. How was it?” Lila asked, a teasing smile on her face.

“It was great,” Y/N replied. “I’m really looking forward to this semester. Anatomy is such a fascinating subject.”

Lila’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You know, I think you might have a classmate who’s also taking that course. He’s known for being a bit of a mess, especially when it comes to anatomy. His name is Conrad Fisher.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Conrad Fisher? I think I saw him in class today. He seemed to be having a hard time keeping up.”

Lila laughed. “That’s the one. He’s actually a really nice guy, but he’s notorious for needing a little extra help with his studies. If you see him around, you might want to keep an eye out. He’s always borrowing pens or asking for assistance.”

Y/N chuckled. “Noted. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Later that week, Y/N found herself in the anatomy lab for the first time. The lab was a place of intense focus and concentration, with rows of cadaver tables and an array of dissection tools neatly arranged. The room was filled with the quiet murmur of students working together, and the scent of formaldehyde lingered in the air.

Y/N set up her station and began to review the lab manual when she heard a voice nearby.

“Hey, do you have a spare pen?” the voice asked.

Y/N looked up to see Conrad Fisher standing beside her table, his expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration. He held up a pen cap, indicating that he had lost the actual pen.

“Sure, here you go,” Y/N said, handing him a pen with a smile.

“Thanks,” Conrad said, taking the pen and looking visibly relieved. “I seem to have misplaced mine again. I swear, it’s like they disappear into thin air.”

Y/N laughed softly. “It happens. You’ll get used to the lab environment eventually.”

Conrad smiled gratefully. “I hope so. I’m Conrad, by the way. I think we’re going to be lab partners for this course.”

“Y/N,” she said, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

As they worked side by side, Y/N found that Conrad’s easygoing nature and good humor made the long hours in the lab more enjoyable. They talked about their classes, shared stories, and found themselves falling into a comfortable rhythm of collaboration. Despite the occasional moments of distraction and light-hearted teasing, they made a great team.

Over the next few weeks, their interactions continued to be marked by playful banter and occasional flirtation. Conrad would often ask Y/N for help with his dissections, and she would gladly oblige, offering guidance and tips with a teasing edge.

One day, as they were working on a particularly challenging dissection, Conrad looked up from his work with a grin. “So, Y/N, do you have any other hidden talents besides being a dissecting wizard?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Well, I can bake a mean batch of cookies, if that counts.”

Conrad’s eyes lit up with interest. “Cookies? Now you’re speaking my language. Maybe I’ll have to take you up on that offer sometime.”

“Only if you promise not to lose any more pens,” Y/N replied playfully.

Conrad laughed, shaking his head. “Deal. I’ll do my best to keep track of my writing instruments from now on.”

Their banter became a regular feature of their interactions, and the chemistry between them was evident to everyone around them. Despite their undeniable connection, they both maintained a façade of casual friendship, much to the amusement of their friends.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling lab session, Conrad and Y/N found themselves sitting on a bench outside the science building, taking a well-deserved break.

“I think that was the most challenging dissection we’ve had yet,” Conrad said, stretching his arms. “I’m glad we made it through.”

Y/N nodded in agreement, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I have to say, your technique is improving. You’re almost as good as me now.”

Conrad raised an eyebrow. “Almost? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As they chatted, a group of their friends approached, and one of them, Sarah, gave them a knowing smile. “You two seem to be getting along quite well.”

Y/N and Conrad exchanged a glance, both of them trying to suppress their smiles. “We’re just lab partners,” Y/N said casually.

“Sure, just lab partners,” Sarah said with a teasing grin. “But everyone can see the chemistry between you two.”

Conrad blushed slightly, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re just friends, honestly.”

Sarah and the others laughed and continued on their way, leaving Y/N and Conrad to their conversation.

“You know,” Conrad said, his tone playful, “it’s funny how everyone is always trying to push us together.”

Y/N shrugged, trying to hide her own smile. “It’s probably just because we spend so much time together. It’s hard not to notice the dynamic.”

Conrad’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Well, if they’re right, maybe we should just embrace the idea.”

Y/N gave him a playful nudge. “Oh, really? And what would that look like?”

Conrad leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. “It would probably involve a lot more teasing, a few more flirtatious comments, and maybe even some impromptu study dates.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Sounds like a lot of work. I think we’re doing just fine as friends.”

“Agreed,” Conrad said, his smile warm and genuine. “But it’s fun to think about.”

As the weeks passed, Y/N and Conrad’s playful flirtation continued, with their friends often teasing them about their obvious chemistry. Despite their mutual attraction and the flirtatious banter, they remained steadfast in their commitment to being just friends.

Their interactions were filled with laughter and light-hearted teasing, creating a dynamic that was both enjoyable and endearing. Whether it was borrowing pens, helping with dissections, or sharing jokes, their connection grew stronger with each passing day.

As the semester progressed, Y/N and Conrad found themselves increasingly drawn to each other, their friendship evolving into something deeper and more meaningful. Despite their best efforts to deny their feelings, the chemistry between them was undeniable, and their playful banter only served to highlight the growing connection they shared.

Tag list - @conradfisherswifesstuff @cheezbot @grxnde-dwt @itsshayfr @lanivoid @calpurnia2002

Comment or heart to be added.

[totalswag]

run for the hills — RAFE CAMERON

authors note super sorry for going ghost for moment. this fic is based on Tate McRae run for the hills. first time i listened to the song i got inspo to write a rafe fic. i really tried my best to write scenarios based off the lyrics

summary being in a toxic relationship with rafe cameron where he pulls the strings and the entire time it’s messing with you.

warning(s) toxic relationship, fighting, kissing, touching, manipulative, mentions of sex.

Getting yourself involved with Rafe Cameron should’ve never happened in the first place. There’s something about him that keeps you coming right back to him. It's toxic and emotional.

He was well aware of his effect on you, and he took full use of it. He'd be all over you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, making you believe he felt the same way you did. The next moment, he'd be cold and aloof, pushing you away as if you were only a passing fancy.

Rafe's a drug and you're addicted.

Stumbling upon each other at Topper Thornton’s party— staring at each other from across the room during the night. Your girlfriends warned you to be careful— you should’ve listened. Rafe and you made out on the couch in the crowded house not caring if people saw.

Kissing, straight back to war.

I’m walking out until I lock the door.

Maybe the dangers covered by the thrill.

‘Cause I know should be running for the hills.

Rafe and you were in the middle of an argument over nonsense. You sat on the edge of his bed, listening to him ramble on about a guy talking to you at the country club.

"No guy should be touching or talking to you only me, you got it?" He asks, pointing at you, "Seems like you don't because you let them talk to you." He huffs, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Rafe, do you hear yourself now?" You sound absolutely fucking crazy talking to me like this," you said firmly, throwing your hands in the air and looking at him with alarm.

He looks at you, his mouth forming a thin line, tilting his head to the side before carefully walking over. By his body language he's frustrated and trying to keep himself calm.

"You can talk to girls and I give you shit for it, you call me crazy but when a guy talks to me there's a problem? Make that make sense, Rafe.” Your tone raises with anger as you run your hands down your thighs before getting off the bed.

"We aren't talking about me, Y/N," he says pointing to himself in disbelief hearing your response while rolling his eyes.

You scoff.

You knew this wasn't going away at this point. You reach for your keys and jacket on his dresser, "I'm just gonna leave and let you think about how you're acting because I'm done."

Rafe stands there puzzled. He reaches for your hand as you move past him with your belongings. You glance up into his eyes, trying to figure out what's on his mind.

"Can I at least get a kiss?" He asks.

Simply nod, stand on your tiptoes, and walk out the door. You should go away from him, but you'll come back. He knows you'll come back.

The way you touch me.

Straight to the heart, yeah it cuts me.

'Cause I know deep down that it's.

Never gonna be us, oh.

Never gonna ever be more than something that's fucking me up.

The way he touches you sends chills down your spine. He knows where to touch you to make you weak in his grasp. Only he can make you feel things no guy ever has.

“Your body loves it when I touch you, huh?” Rafe’s voice is low with a teasing tone that gets you riled up. Rafe’s hands run themselves down your waist repeatedly till he’s ready to give you what you want.

“Mmm yes” you giggle ending with a moan when both his hands squeeze your ass then smacking.

He smirks.

Smooth with his movements— dipping his head down, kissing your lower tummy over your underwear line that makes your toes curl. Grabbing the sides of your hips by your underwear before pulling them down leaving you bare.

Deep down you know it won't be more between Rafe and you. It keeps fucking you up but you can't leave him somehow.

Don't tease me.

Keep me around like it's easy.

When you know deep down that it's.

He acts lovey dovey towards you then next day he acts cold. He pulls the strings and you’re the puppet. He’s playing a game with you— enjoys it. Kept you going back for more even when you should have gone away. And each time he did, it played with your mind a little more, blurring the lines between what you desired and what you knew was proper.

Hot and cold.

Rafe keeps you around because he needs something from you. Sure, he'll give you what you want, but usually only on his terms. Rafe is taking advantage of you, and you don't realize it.

I know when it's all done.

I'll hate you in the long run.

But, somehow it never ends.

You should loathe him. You understood it deep down: this nasty game he played. He'd drew you in, whisper sweet nothings that made your pulse race, only to vanish, leaving you alone in a sea of doubt. However, when he was close, all you could think about was how much you desired his attention.

There was a party tonight down the street by your house. A good amount of people came making the house crowded.

You looked around the room, searching for Rafe. Deep down you shouldn't be looking for him. Your eyes locked across the room-- there he was leaning against the wall in all black with a drink in his hand.

He rose from the wall and walked towards you. Your girlfriends point out where they will be while you two talk.

He approached you, bending close, his breath warm against your ear. "You look like you're having a good time," he said, his voice oozing with charm. But there was also darkness, which only you appeared to perceive.

You swallowed hard, attempting to keep your voice steady. "I was wondering when you'd finally come over," you said, your tone more confident than you felt.

Rafe chuckled and reached out to wipe a strand of hair away from your face. The touch was soft, but it sent thrills down your spine. "Did you miss me?" he teased, but the way his eyes darkened revealed there was something genuine underlying the joking.

"Maybe," you muttered, hating yourself for packing so much truth into that single word.

Stop doing that, Y/N.

He tilted his head and studied you, as if calculating his options. You wanted to reach out and bring him near, but you knew better. Rafe was in charge, and he enjoyed the game far too much to allow you to win.

I get obsessive with you.

All I want is attention from you.

Break into my life and break my rules, it's true.

He has not texted you in all day. He texted you last night before you went to bed, and you haven't heard back from him. You desire his attention. From him, and only him.

"This is so toxic, what I am doing?" You tell yourself this as you stare at your screen, anticipating to call Rafe.

Once again, he's pulling the strings and allowing you to do anything he wants without doing anything himself.

Will this never-ending cycle end? Will you ever have the strength to leave Rafe without returning? Because no matter how badly you try to flee and escape, something about Rafe Cameron will always draw you back.

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[radioisntdead]

Happy Father's Day folks! I bring you Alastor, Vox and Husk dad headcanons because the original fic I was writing wouldn't be done in time so that'll be posted eventually.

Alastor

Well it looks like someone got picked up off the streets! You!

I love the accidentally became a dad trope for Alastor, he just causally stumbled upon you and then couldn't get rid of you.

Occasionally tries to get you to sign your soul to him especially if you have potential to become someone great and powerful.

Fails to optain your soul EVERY SINGLE TIME, L, sucks for him.

The only screentime you get is when the hotel has movie nights or whenever anyone that's not Alastor is babysitting you lets you watch cartoons.

Teaches you how to cook Louisianan dishes, like how his mother taught him.

I imagine he reads you the original version of the grimm brother fairy tales.

You get him this shirt and he wears it as a pajama or whenever Lucifers near by.

He doesn't seem like the type to drive but if he does he plays jazz and talks about it like how dad's talking about rock or whatever they listen to.

Dad jokes, dad jokes galore.

Vox

Firstly I am so sorry that you're an iPad kid!

Does NOT LEAVE YOU ALONE with Valentino,

Depending if you're biological child from his time alive or not you might actually have a screen head.

iPad kid, iPad Dad.

Valentino is smart enough to know that he's not to mess with you but it's Valentino.

Velvette is either your aunt, older sister figure or cousin figure.

Definitely gives you all the latest electronics.

I'm pretty sure you're a nepotism baby here so you wanna star in a movie? A regular NON- Valentino film? You're the main character! You wanna start a singing career? Hatsune Miku who?

You probably have your own show on his TV programs.

Someone upsets you? You're whipping out your phone and calling Daddy.

Like my other Dad vox headcanons, You just chill out in his office at times, or chill out in the back while he's hosting a meeting popping in with your two cents every once in awhile.

In the totally unlikely event that he gets taken out during extermination, you get Voxtech.

Husker

If you're underage he's not giving you drinks, doesn't matter that you're both in hell, you're not drinking underage!

He's definitely the type of dad to let you take a sip from his beer during like new years or something though but like not a whole bottle.

I personally headcanon that he's been divorced like twice and has at least two kids so who knows you might have a sibling running around somewhere!

I imagine you're also a cat, meow.

He's actually a decent dad, definitely supports you in whatever you wanna do although grumpily.

Has a picture of you as a baby in his wallet, or hat.

You mention you like that specific brand of chips? He's getting you some every time he goes to the store.

Your favorite soda is A PAIN TO FIND? and it's only at specific stores? He gets you a couple of them whenever he sees them.

Teaches you magic tricks and also how to gamble,

He taught you everything he knows.

Happy Father's Day folks! I hope you have a wonderful day and spend time with your fathers/father figures or if you don't have one of those that you have a good day regardless,

Despite the oddly common assumption, I do infact have a Dad, so I will be hanging out with my dad until he has to leave because he's going to a game, as always thank you for tuning in!

Psst! You should totally join our discord server!

[saioratral]

PARING: yuuta okkotsu x f!reader

PROMPT: stories- not a reality SYNOPSIS: giving my readers a reality check of who they are following

WARNING: insecurities and the biggest warning, me NOTE: i make a pretty good plot, netflix should be knocking on my door. wrote this to fuel my favourite emotion: depression <33 genuinely dont give two fucks if anyone reads this. i dont need comfort messages/asks or the 'don't say that about yourself ☹️' bullshit- im not asking for that + it's not gonna change how i see myself

the room didn’t even feel like a room to anyone who stepped inside. clothes messily placed on her chair, but she didn’t mind. her gaze was locked on the computer screen, her fingers moving across the keyboard as though they knew the layout better than her textbooks

she typed again, her imaginary life with yuuta. the little cottage by the river, ducks swimming by- according to her notes. her fictional self is her favourite self. she loves writing about her muse, yuuta being her escape from her heavy thoughts 

but behind the screen, she was just a mess. she covers her insecurities with flattering words. how could she be pretty when the world only saw the mess of her real self? her online persona was a carefully constructed lie, a shield to keep others from seeing the truth. after all, why should she look ugly to them? she didn’t want to scare anyone away

little miss perfect, pretending to be smart for others. that’s all she’s good at anyways, people would remember her at least, use her and not discard her when they got bored. "grow a spine," they told her every day. but she didn’t. she carried no opinions, just a deep need to fit in

what she wanted, more than anything, was to be loved. to have friends, to be someone’s favorite girl, like the main character of a shoujo anime

she imagines herself in yuuta's arms, feeling his comfort, his imaginary embrace making her feel wanted. together, they watch the sunset from the window, the soft glow of the fading light making life seem perfect. next, they’re in the kitchen, she sits on the counter while yuuta mixes batter for her favorite cake. he let her taste it, but only if she kissed him in return

the scene shifts. now, they were in a fancy, high rise building for dinner. she’s wearing a pink dress, hair tied up with a matching ribbon. she’s so pretty in his eyes, the candle light dinner gets better and better and soon they are on their way home. yuuta’s jacket draped over her shoulders as they walked beneath the streetlights, stumbling upon an empty playground

she sits on the swings, pushing herself back and forth, a wide grin on her face. yuuta sits on the swing beside her, holding her heels in his hand as he watches her joy. he really does love her smile, she looks so beautiful in his heart eyes- of course she would be. she’s the writer. it was her world. she decides what happened next

call her a pick me, call her lazy, call her ungrateful, call her selfish, call her ugly, call her boring, call her cringe, make fun of her taste- she’s just a girl sitting in her room, writing silly fics about her yuuta for a mere 2 digit following of strangers 

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest

[astermath]

sweet like you🍓

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: carmen stumbles across a local farmer’s market on accident and discovers a family run strawberry stand. he discovers that not only the strawberries are delicious and sweet, but so is the girl selling them to him.

word count: 2.1K

notes: yk what’s really funny,, i never realised so far a lot of my fics involve the color red. perhaps it’s becoming my new favorite color and I love to make it obvious dsgdfsj,, anyways first time writing for carmen, been obsessed w him since the bear came out. i’m a whore for jeremy allen white in case you haven’t noticed. anyways this will def get a part two!!

P.S. let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, requests are open!

Saturday was farmer’s market day.

Every Saturday morning, dozens of independent businesses, farmers and food stands would come together at Lincoln Park to sell their wares. It made for a colorful and interesting blend of smells, sounds and sights, and for most, a great way to start off their weekend.

And Carmen was no exception to this. He’d first stumbled upon it by accident on his way to the Beef. Taking a wrong turn because of his still waking morning head resulted in him walking through the park and, unavoidably, being distracted by what vendors there were. A chef at heart, he couldn’t help but look around the wide array of fresh ingredients available for purchase. He’d taken out his notebook and started writing down business names as he tried a sample every now and then. 

He held a bag of fresh paprikas in one hand, making his way down the line before he came across a peculiar and seemingly very busy stand. The fresh, sweet scent of strawberries allured him, stepping closer to take a look at what they had to offer. And it was exactly that, just strawberries. It appeared to be a family business, your mother and father packing orders, and you at the front taking them and accepting payments. For a second he just kind of stood there, bag in hand, staring at you. There was no way you were from here, Chicago doesn’t let a smile like that survive very long. Or maybe that was just his cynical mind doing its usual thing.

He snapped out of it when you glanced his way, looking to the side. He felt his cheeks getting warmer, embarrassed that just looking at a pretty girl got such a reaction from him. He’s a collected person, he should be acting like one. He took a deep breath and got in line. Lord knows what he’d be using strawberries for, he’d figure something out, might as well just eat them as a snack while the season allowed it.

“Hi! How many?” Your voice was sweet and chipper, something he couldn’t even think of being after taking orders all morning. Somehow, you kept it up.

“Oh, uh...” He looked at your display, before remembering that all you sold were strawberries, so browsing just made him look even more stupid. “How many... Strawberries?”

“Boxes. They’re 500 grams, 5 bucks each. So how many?” Your smile remained the same, though you were slightly amused by his confusion. 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He could have sank into the ground right then and there. Of course you meant boxes, who in their right mind is buying individual strawberries? “Uh... Just one box is fine, please.” He reached for his wallet while you took over a box from your mom.

“Great! That’ll be 5 dollars please.” You took the slightly crumpled bill from his hand, storing it in the tin box in front of you and quickly writing down something on a paper. Seemed like you still did everything by hand, he couldn’t imagine what a mess it would be if he had to do that at the restaurant.

“Here you go, have a great day!” The box you gave him was neatly wrapped in brown paper, with a sticker serving as a business card on top. 

“Uh...” He stared at the sticker, reading over it before looking back up at you.

Ask for her name.

“Yeah...”

Her name.

“You too.” 

You idiot.

He picked up the box and walked away, walking a little faster than usual. He was never good at talking to people, but god, that was just embarrassing. He opened up the packaging, and took out a perfectly plump strawberry. He took a bite, humming as the juicy sweetness washed over his tastebuds.

Lunch rush had just ended, and Carmen was sat outside the back of the restaurant with Richie, smoking as per usual. Except now, a small cardboard box sat between them. It was almost empty as the two of them snacked on the fruit between puffs of their cigarettes. 

“Ya know, I read somewhere on Facebook that these are supposed to help with uh... Cancer or something.” Richie said, throwing the green leafy part back into the box. 

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, cousin.” Carmy smiled to himself, back leaned against the wall as he brought the cigarette to his lips.

“Oh, why’s that huh? Cause I can’t read shit online anymore without having to do an hour of research behind it?” Richie furrowed his brows, blowing smoke out his nose.

“No, stupid,” Carmen put the cigarette out on the concrete. “Cause you’re fuckin’ smoking, man. The fuck is a strawberry gonna do against that.”

“Yeah, well... I try to stay positive, you should fucking try it sometime, ya depressed asshole.” He grabbed another strawberry. “Where d’you get these from anyways? Shit’s pretty good.”

The image of you working at the stand flashed through his mind. “Passed by some random farmer’s market this morning. Might stop by there again, got a ton of fresh produce there for not much money.”

“Speakin’ of produce.” Richie used his thumb to point back over his shoulder to the kitchen. “Place’s out of onions. Your magical farmer’s market got those? Cause we need more by the dinner shift.”

Carmen groaned, wanting to curse at Richie for not letting him know earlier. But honestly, if it gave him a chance to go back, get more delicious strawberries and possibly redeem his awkward first impression to the pretty girl there... It might not be a bad idea. He checked the time on his watch, early afternoon, you’d probably be wrapping up right now. If he was fast, he could totally still make it. “Fine, but I’m taking your car.”

“Don’t crash it.” Richie said as he got up, ready to get back inside.

“You’re the one with a suspended license.” He joked, catching the keys Richie threw at him that were totally not aimed at his head.

“Fuck you cousin.”

Parking was a bitch, as always, but Carmen had managed to find a stall selling onions for about half of what he usually got them for. He was starting to like this market, not just for the prices, but because these were all people who worked hard and loved their products. A lot of work goes into putting something out there to sell, he would know. 

He realized he might be pushing his luck if he still wanted to see you, but he decided to take the chance nonetheless and walk down the lineup. It seemed to be his lucky day, as he caught sight of your parents loading up mostly empty boxes back in the car. You were working on breaking down the stand, doing so with relative ease. You were currently folding up the tables, kneeled down onto the ground. 

Again, he stared. Honestly, how could he not? It wasn’t every day he saw someone so beautiful, and with a sweet personality to match. Granted his only interaction with you had been brief, but still, he got a good vibe from you, and he was usually so distrustful.

You looked up, and by pure coincidence, your eyes met. His eyes were so intense, hues of blue that anyone would recognize, even from a mile away. You certainly recognized them from this morning at least. Your face brightened with the same smile he saw you had before, and for a second he wondered if it was just a customer service thing. 

“Hi! Hope you enjoyed your strawberries!” You got up, holding the folded table under your arm. 

“Sure did.” He put on a bit of an awkward smile. God, why was he doing this... What was he even supposed to say?

Your eyes squinted slightly when you read the words on his shirt. “Nice shirt... Oh, wait, you work at the Beef?”

His body tenses up a little when you mention the restaurant. Given its... Peculiar reputation, that question could be followed up by any kind of statement. “Yeah, yeah, I uh... I kinda run it now.” He decided not to mention Mikey. Seemed a bit overkill to mention your dead brother to someone whose name you don’t even know.

“Ohhh, that’s you! Yeah, I’ve seen you smoking outside before.” You extend your hand and you both introduce yourselves. “I work at a café just two blocks over. You might have seen it, it’s called Odette’s?” 

Carmy nodded. He knew that place. He also knew the cranky old French lady who owned it. “Ah... Yeah. Menu still the same?”

“As long as Odette is still alive, I doubt she’ll ever let me change anything. ‘Over my dead body, cherie’”. You jokingly imitated her French accent, chuckling to yourself.

Carmen smiled, glad that he’s at least not making a complete fool out of himself now. This was good, he knew this, work and food, those were his safe topics. “Yeah, well... Maybe if she tasted one of these strawberries first, you might convince her.” 

“Huh,” You thought to yourself for a second, imagining your usual grumpy boss overflowing with glee after trying the fruit from your family’s farm. “You know what, I’ve never actually thought of that. Maybe I’ll try it out!” You smile. “You know I’ve been meaning to try and serve some of my pastries there. I’m a huge baking fanatic, but she’s so... Set in her ways. I don’t know if my amateur baking skills could possibly convince her, no matter how tasty the strawberries I use are.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like...” Carmen thought about his crew, and how much they loved their so called ‘system’. Change was good, change meant progress, but it was also scary. On that part, he didn’t blame her boss for refusing to switch things up. “If you want, I could help you out. I’m a full time chef, so... Always willing to taste test.” He hoped his poorly masked excuse to stay in touch came across as friendly, and not pushy. He always felt like he was overthinking everything when he was trying to socialize, like he was reading off some type of script. Your chipper personality made things a tad easier, at least. 

“Really?” You seem to brighten up even more. Carmen is sure there’s light shining from your face from how excited you look, but he doesn’t mind. It’s amusing, almost... Cute.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. Just uh... Let me know when.” He puts his hands in his pockets.

“Of course!” You pause, realizing he’s probably expecting you to give him some kind of contact information. Unless he was planning to use telepathic communication. You put down the folded table. “Right, sorry, uh...” You laughed awkwardly and pulled out a pen and an old receipt from your back pocket to scribble your number on, before handing it to him. “There we go!” 

Carmen’s eyes went over the number, putting it in his wallet so he wouldn’t forget to save it later. “Cool, cool... So uh, text you later.” He silently cringed at his own words, trying painfully hard to play it cool. 

“Yeah, totally!” Your mom called your name, and you look over your shoulder, seeing her gesture to you to hurry up. “Be right there, mama!” You chuckled. “Sorry, duty calls! But yeah, I’ll hear from you. And if I don’t, I know where you work, Berzatto.” 

He chuckles slightly at your joking threat. “Sure, I’ll hold you to that.” He gives you a curt wave before walking off and letting you go back to work. 

He really hoped you didn’t mean that “threat”. He’d rather die than let you see him at the Beef right when they got such a bad hygiene rating. 

He was laid down on the couch late at night, watching an episode on the food network about an olive farm in Italy. He wondered if your family’s farm was anything like this one, and remembered he hadn’t even saved your number or texted you yet. Carmen rubbed his sleepy eyes and pulled out his phone, saving your number under a new contact and typing out a few quick texts. He stared at the screen for a few seconds, realized he was overthinking it and fell asleep not long after, the sound of an elderly Italian woman speaking on TV in the background.

[unknown]: hey, it’s carmen

[unknown]: guy from the beef

[unknown]: next thursday work for you?

You groaned in your bed, looking over at your phone and cursing yourself for forgetting to turn off your notifications. “The fuck...” Your eyes squinted at the brightness of the screen. A sleepy smile adorned your face when you read his name, saving his contact and texting something back quickly before putting the phone away and going back to sleep.

[y/n]: for sure!

[y/n]: let’s do 4:30 PM? café closes at 4 anyways so we’ll have the kitchen to ourselves :)))

[hard-core-super-star]

(you give me) guilty pleasure [C.Danvers]

[credit for this awesome banner goes to @selfcestmovies, check out their blog for more selfcesty goodness]

pairing: switch!carol danvers x switch!skrull!reader

summary: after another failed attempt at asking carol on a date, you decide to shift into her and get some much needed...release. unfortunately, carol doesn't know how to knock.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! -> selfcest [R's a skrull and she shifts into carol]; getting caught masturbating; fingering [R receiving]; breastplay; carol's VERY into herself; dirty talk; slight degradation [use of the word 'slut' once]; captain kink because duh; riding [R has a cock for the last half of the fic]

wordcount: 3.3k

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE! yup, we're not even a week into the new year and i'm already here, posting the filthiest smut just for y'all 😅 on a real note, i'm very happy to continue writing my silly little fics and sharing them with you. this is another commision that i absolutely loved working on and this definetly isn't a reminder that my commissions are open 😶 anyway, i hope you enjoy, i'll see you around <3

* * * * * * *

No one could deny that Captain Marvel was a massive flirt. Whether it was a quick pick-up line, a perfectly timed smirk, or a purposeful graze of her fingers, she loved keeping people on her toes. Maybe it was her cockiness or her charisma that made her do it, or maybe she simply loved the brief moments of attention she received in turn.

The details of her habit were lost on everyone else, and yet no one could deny how attractive her nonchalance made her.

A fact you're all too familiar with.

You've lost track of how many times you've found yourself tangled up in one of Carol's flirtatious comments. Even though you knew she did it with practically every girl she stumbled upon, you couldn't stop yourself from thinking there was more to the brief moments you shared with her.

Maybe it was delusional, but, in your defense, there has always been something lingering under the surface between you. While being saved by the captain wasn't anything special considering her history with your species, being given both a new home and a job was.

You weren't sure why or how she did it, but she managed to convince Nick Fury himself to give you a chance, to let you join S.H.I.E.L.D when it was in its beginning stages, and allow you the chance to start over on Earth. It wasn't the life you thought you'd ever have, but you slowly learned to love it...and the human face you'd "borrowed" upon coming to Earth.

The captain hadn't stuck around much at first, something about some loose ends she needed to tie up. You didn't ask for details and she didn't give any so you assumed that would be the end of your flirtatious banter with her. And maybe that would have been true had Nick Fury not assigned you to the very same space station that Carol would come back to time and time again after going on her own missions.

Your paths didn't cross often, but every time they did, you'd inevitably end up making a fool of yourself by getting rejected. Then again, it wasn't like you made your intentions obvious, always hiding behind subtle jokes and hidden double meanings. It didn't take a genius to figure out you had a massive crush on Carol, though.

Unfortunately, the captain simply wasn't paying enough attention.

And so, here you were, running into Carol once more and horribly messing up your chance at a date with her. It was honestly a little impressive how often you found yourself in this situation, hurrying back into your quarters with your tail tucked between your legs.

Except this time, you had far too many conflicting feelings waging war inside you. A part of you was very pissed off, another part disappointed, but the loudest part of you was far too intoxicated by your attraction to the captain. It didn't help that she had been wearing that dumb white muscle tank that showed off her perfectly toned arms and that she'd looked you up and down at least five times. Maybe she hadn't known what she was doing but she'd lit a fire in you that you had no way of quelling.

Unless...

It's stupid and reckless and maybe slightly deranged and yet...it's also the best idea you've had all day.

Unbeknownst to you, while you're considering the dirtiest thought you've ever had, Carol is pacing back and forth in her own quarters, the wheels in her head slowly spinning toward an answer she can't quite believe. Sure, she's always been a little slow to notice when people are actually flirting with her, but there's no way you want her...right?

That despite her slight egotistical nature, her carefree way of shooting down almost everyone who actually flirts with her, her total nonchalance toward forming real relationships, that despite all of that...you actually wanted to be with her.

Oh.

What a fool she’d been.

It takes her almost no time to rush out of her quarters in search of you, her heart pounding in her ears. Would you even want her now? Now that she’d shot you down so many times? Acted like your advances meant nothing to her?

She’s not sure but she knows she has to find out the answer before it’s too late.

Carol rushes into your quarters without a second thought, lips parting to announce her entrance when her eyes land on you. Her speeding heart all but stops the seconds she finds you.

There you are, splayed out on your bed, except you don’t look like yourself. No, you look like Carol.

And to make matters worse (or better, if she’s being fully honest with herself), you’re naked. With a hand between your legs and the other one playing with your breasts. Breasts that are identical to hers.

"Oh my God-" Her voice cuts through the haze of slightly unhinged arousal that's taken over your mind since you decided to shift into her.

"Holy shit!" Your eyes fly open, and you instantly remove your hands from your body. A body that looks identical to Carol’s.

The only sound that fills the air for the next few moments is your heavy breathing. You want to apologize, to attempt to explain what you're doing (even though it's more than obvious), to do anything besides simply lay there, completely exposed.

You don't get a chance to do anything, though, because Carol's eyes take far too long admiring you and your mind goes blank. The flush on your cheeks seems to entertain her because it doesn't take more than a few seconds for a smirk to form on her face. "Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?"

You try to form a response, but your body feels frozen. Frozen and far too hot at the same time.

And it doesn't help that Carol takes your silence as an opportunity to come closer. Close enough to get a good look at the mess between your spread legs.

"I- Carol-"

"Don't," she says, her eyes shooting up to lock onto yours. "Don't apologize. Don't act like you didn't do this on purpose. I left you this hot and bothered?"

"Shut up," you huff, ignoring how weird it is to hear her voice coming out of your mouth. "None of this was supposed to happen."

Carol chuckles at that. "Well, you don't seem too upset."

"Don't look at me like that, this is all your fault."

"It's my fault that you decided to turn into me and get yourself off?"

"Well...when you put it like that..."

She shakes her head at you as her knees hit the edge of the bed. She lingers there, her eyes on yours. "If you want me to leave, just say the word. I can walk out and forget this ever happened or..."

The trail-off leaves little to the imagination and yet you still hesitate. There's no way she wants you the way you want her.

"Or...?"

"Or I can take over and fuck you like you deserve."

"You'd be fucking yourself," you point out, your breath getting caught in your throat despite your best efforts.

Her eyebrow raises as her smirk grows. "And? I said what I said. You're not the only one who finds me attractive."

Her words are filthy, downright sinful, and yet, you can't deny how compelling you find them. How many times you've thought about a scenario eerily familiar to this. It's not like you can help it, being a shapeshifter comes with quite the...intense fantasies.

"Carol...are you sure?"

You're not sure where the hesitation comes from, you just know you're on the precipice of something you won't be able to come back from. Then again, you're not sure you'd want to. Maybe it's a risky step, but it's one you're more than ready to take.

The blonde seems to know exactly what you're thinking because she slowly lets herself fall onto the bed. She crawls her way up to you, those damn blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Are you? Because I didn't tell you to stop."

Her response is less of an answer and more of a warning. Your last chance to back out if you don't want this, if you don't want to do this with her like this. And maybe, deep down, you don't. Maybe a part of you is afraid of what it will mean. Of the very real possibility that Carol only wants you when you're like this. When you're her.

That being said, you're not about to let your insecurities get in the way of finally getting to kiss your crush. Sure, it's a little desperate, but it's also hot as hell.

"I'm sure," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want this."

The smile you receive in return is reward enough but once she's fully settled on top of you, her fingers wrap around your wrist and guide your hand back between your legs. "Yeah? Show me how much you want it. How much you want me."

The command sends a shiver down your spine, your hips bucking up involuntarily. Carol notices the movement and her eyes take their time mapping out every inch of you. Every inch of her.

It's strange. Even though you both knew you had shifted into her, it's not until she really looks at you that it starts clicking for both of you. That the wheels in her head start turning and she fully realizes the power she has. The rush that comes from having herself, the real strongest Avenger, laid out and vulnerable underneath her.

It doesn't matter that you don't have her powers or personality, that you only look and sound like her. Those two things are more than enough to fuel her fantasies, to allow the somewhat hidden egotistical side of herself to rear its head.

You don't notice the shift in her at first, too busy teasing your clit with your fingers and trying to not immediately cum. You certainly feel it, though. More specifically, you feel her hands on you, her fingers teasing the underside of your breasts before taking them into her hands.

"Fuck, look at you. All that strength and you're still just a needy plaything for me."

The fact that she's technically talking about herself isn't lost on you, but you don't care. At least, not enough to pull the plug on the whole thing.

"Carol," you moan, arching your back into her touch.

Her hands squeeze your breasts in response, her thumbs grazing your hardening nipples in something that borders on awe. "You sound so pretty when you moan for me."

You shudder underneath her, your clit throbbing under your digits as you continue to tease yourself. The last thing you need is to end up cumming before anything even happens. In your defense, you've been turned on for the past hour.

"Fuck, please."

She ignores your borderline desperate pleading in favor of ducking her head and attaching her lips to your chest. Your free hand comes up to tangle in her blonde hair, your grip on her tightening as she continues her exploration.

Even though she's technically not given you permission, you allow yourself to slip a finger inside your wet heat, your walls instantly clenching around the intrusion.

You don't know how she knows what you're doing but you feel her smirk against your skin. "Dirty girl, where'd your patience go?"

"Shut up," you mumble. "You're the one set on teasing me."

"Because you look hot when you're desperate."

Carol doesn't give you another chance to argue with her. Instead, she wraps her lips around one of your swollen nipples, delighting in the broken gasp you let out in response. Your other nipple gets just as much attention, except it's her fingers that toy with it instead of her warm mouth.

The difference in sensation doesn't matter to you or your cunt, though, and you just barely stop yourself from humping your own hand.

Your resolve breaks thanks to Carol, though. More specifically, to the ease with which she slips her free hand between your bodies, her fingers instantly latching onto your swollen clit. "Oh, baby, is this all for me?"

"Yes-" 

Your broken sounds of pleasure only serve to stoke the flames of her own ego. Her movements speed up, clearly intent on making you fall apart for her. The way she continues to play with your sensitive nipples only adds to that fact and you know there's no way to hold back much longer.

Thankfully, Carol doesn't seem to mind.

"You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna soak my hand like a good little slut?"

Her degrading words only spur you on and you slip in another finger, your speed matching hers as you both work toward your orgasm. You'd never doubted the captain would be dominant in bed, but you'd never thought she'd be into that kind of dirty talk. Mainly because if you were technically her right now, it meant she was into referring to herself like that.

Something about that realization pushes you toward the edge, your walls fluttering around your fingers as you chase more pleasure.

"Please, Captain," you moan. "I want to cum for you."

Her groan mixes with your breathless whimper and her teeth softly graze your nipple in the process. The sensation is too much for you and your orgasm crashes into you before you can stop it.

The only warning you give is a drawn-out moan before your whole body convulses underneath the blonde. Your squirming instantly gives you away and she detaches herself from your chest just to watch you fall apart for her. To hear the way you moan for her with her own voice. To see her own eyes roll into the back of your head.

The fascination and adoration in her eyes is obvious, but you miss it due to how powerful your release is. Your brain is completely scrambled, there's a faint ringing in your ears and a mess underneath you.

Despite the charged atmosphere, Carol's right there to catch you.

Her hands leave your oversentive body as she shifts until she's straddling your leg. The physical contact is just as much for you as it is for her but that doesn't matter much to you. All you care about is feeling her close, having her with you as you try to ground yourself.

"Breathe, sweetheart," she says, her voice soft as she ducks her head down to press feather-light kisses to your temple. "You're okay, I'm right here."

You do your best to focus on your breathing, but it's hard to concentrate on anything when you can feel the heat of her soaked core against your skin. The excitement builds up in your veins even as you try to bring yourself back down to a state of calm.

"Carol," you whisper, your hands slowly coming up to rest on her hips. "Is that all for me?"

The subtle rocking of her hips stops the second she hears your teasing words. Words she'd used on you not even half an hour ago.

"You're the worst, you know that?" She responds with a soft chuckle.

"You seem to like it."

Your hands urge her to continue her movements, helping her ride your thigh. The friction makes her shiver and a loud groan pulls itself out of her mouth.

"Shit...I liked you better when you were too fucked out to talk."

This time, you're the one who chuckles, your nails digging into her skin. "I think it's your turn."

"Yeah?" She leans back again and the glint in her eyes tells you all you need to know. "Think you can...give yourself an upgrade for that?"

Her suggestion shouldn't be as hot as it is and yet, you can't deny the effect it has on you. "And you were calling me dirty?"

You know she's more than ready to argue back so you decide to take advantage of her distraction and shift your lower half into something more...phallic. You'll never admit it, but it's not the first time you've taken advantage of your shapeshifting abilities to do this.

It is the first time you do it while looking like Carol, though.

And the sight affects you just as much as it affects her.

"Holy shit," she says. "You actually did it?"

"You wanted it, right? Wanted something to ride?" You're rewarded with the sight of her cheeks actually flushing. You're not sure the last time you saw Carol blush, but you sure as hell aren't going to forget it this time.

"Shut up," she mumbles.

You want to comment on how adorable she is all of a sudden but then her hand is moving down your body and wrapping around your length. Your hips buck into her hand, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. Just because you've experimented with this on your own before doesn't mean it ever felt as good as this.

"Oh, fuck," you groan. "This is the best idea you've ever had."

Carol laughs and allows you to move her again. Except this time, you're helping her line up her soaked cunt with your cock.

She sinks down onto you, her hands coming down to grip your shoulders as you keep her steady. You're both panting, both groaning into the space between you as you slowly fill her up. Instantly, you're addicted to the way her walls clench and flutter around you.

"Why have we never done this before?" The blonde asks, darkened eyes locked on yours.

"Because you're oblivious as fuck."

Once again, you stop her before she can argue with you. 

You start thrusting up into her, eagerly watching the way her face contorts with pleasure. Her breathy moans fill the room as you focus on her pleasure, driven by the years of pent up tension you're finally able to release.

"You're right, Captain," you say, your hand drifting down to play with her clit. "You do look good like this."

The sound she makes borders suspiciously close to a whine. "Don't be a tease."

"I'm just trying to make you feel good."

"Then focus."

Even though you want to roll your eyes at her, you do as she says, putting aside your want to tease her and instead doing everything you can to make her lose control. You speed up your thrusts and watch her resolve slowly crumble.

"Fuck," she moans. "Just like that."

You're far too eager to please and she's far too turned on to last much longer. It's a desperate combination the leaves you wanting so much more.

For now, though, you focus on pushing her to the edge.

It doesn't take much longer, clearly teasing you had an intense effect on her too. Your fingers circle her swollen clit faster and faster until she's shaking on top of you, allowing you to move her up and down on your cock as her orgasm hits her point blank.

You half-expect her to moan her own name as she cums, to give in to the fantasy that she's getting fucked by herself and you're not here.

She doesn't, though.

She moans your name.

Even with the fact that you've shifted into her, that you've even given yourself a dick for her, she only sees you. She only wants you.

Of course, you wait to mention something to her.

First, you help her ride out her high, slowing down your movements until she can catch her breath again. She all but collapses on top of you, her body molding perfectly against yours. 

You stay tangled together for a few moments before she speaks up with a hoarse voice. "y/n? Can you...shift back now?"

Of course she would beat you to it.

"Sure. Anything you want, Captain."

It's a little strange considering you're still buried inside her, but you shift back to yourself. To the real, very green, version of yourself that only Carol's allowed to see.

Her hand cups your cheek before she's pulling you closer, her lips finding yours.

Maybe it's far from perfect. Maybe this is a horrible start to a relationship. Maybe you'll both regret this later.

For now, though? For now you'll simply bask in the afterglow with her.

[dreamsofbroflovski]

Tolkien Black x Reader - sky's the limit

Also available on ao3!

Summary: You spend the New Year's Eve the only way you want to - in the arms of your favourite person.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Penis In Vagina Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Wall Sex, Mentions of Alcohol & Drug Usage

A/N: Story of how this came to be: I was listening to Rich Sex by Nicki Minaj ft. Lil Wayne. Then I thought of Tolkien. My brain short-circuited and before I noticed I had like five paragraphs written.

Figured I might as well write a NYE fic then, because I really liked the concept and Tolkien desperately needs more love.

Also, third fic in a row with the 'Semi-Public Sex' tag? What is happeninggggg

It was December 31st, 2024. Still another hour or so until midnight, judging by the 90’’ TV screen on the living room wall, which had been for a while now displaying a countdown to the New Year - a livestream for the Times Square ball drop, so a whole bunch of adults in bumfuck Colorado could go absolutely berserk over an event happening all the way on the other side of the country. Which didn’t even mean much, considering my friends would crash out over damn near anything.

The TV wasn’t the focus of anyone’s attention at that moment; most people around were either dancing their soul away to the crazy beats the DJ had cooked up, threading the line between ‘making out’ and ‘blatant exhibitionism’’ on some corner - or, if they had enough decency, in one of the apartment’s bedrooms -, or getting drunk/high off their marbles to start the new year on a good note. The few folk who still attempted normal conversation needed to do so really loudly, which only added to the cacophony overwhelming everyone’s senses. 

More due to being tired of his friends’ constant begging than out of any real interest to do so, my boyfriend Tolkien had rented out an entire penthouse for New Year’s Eve and the day right after, also forking out the money for a decent party at the place. It was supposed to just be people we knew - which was already a lot, considering our friends -, but the whole thing got so big and so out of control that even people from neighboring towns were coming to attend, and every broken thing or mess I stumbled upon made me wince and sigh out of respect for my partner’s wallet.

That’s not to say it was a shitty party. It was wild, yes, but awesome. Music was blasting, drinks were flowing freely, everyone seemed to be in their best vibes and no fights had broken out yet - which was always a plus. I was having a great time, and, from the glimpses I caught of him around the packed place, Tolkien was too. We didn’t spend much of that time actually together, but I saw him here and there mingling with our common friends, usually looking relaxed and laughing at some joke, a different glass in his hand each time. He would never be able to get all of his money’s worth, but he wouldn’t be able to say he hated all of it, either.

However, even though I was enjoying it all, sometimes a girl needs a break. Being a very involved member of the ‘party planning committee’ - a role basically forced upon me due to being the host’s girlfriend -, I had already spent some energy trying to put it all together, so I admit I might’ve gotten myself tired a bit earlier than everyone else. Not a problem, though - I just needed to take a breather, maybe some water, allow my eardrums to calm down a little before they got permanent damage from the pounding music, and then I’d be back in action without any trouble. So I weaseled myself out of yet another drinking game someone had come up with and made my way to the penthouse’s huge balcony.

In a surprising change of pace for our little mountain town, on that particular New Year’s Eve, it hadn’t snowed. Still that didn’t mean respite from the stinging winter breezes, as I had come to find when they passed right through the thin layer of my pantyhose, making me shiver basically as soon as I stepped outside. I lectured myself mentally for not having thought of it and for prioritizing a cute outfit instead of comfort and warmth, but in my defense, I figured I’d spend the whole time inside of the apartment where it was warmer anyways, so more protection wasn’t needed.

I pushed through the uncomfortable sensation, focusing on the warmth provided by my coat and the other layers of my outfit, and it soon subsided. My feet slowly traversed the area of the terrace, while my eyes took in the well-decorated environment that was still fairly untouched by our friends’ disastrous behaviour - at least until one of them was drunkenly dared to hang out naked outside, which was bound to happen eventually. 

Without even noticing, I had made my way to the farthest end of the balcony, a more dimly-lit area, that had no doors leading directly to it and no large windows overseeing it either. There were few decorations - a coffee table, some armchairs around it, big potted plants just like the others spread throughout the outside area of the penthouse. I ignored all of that, heading towards the railing and leaning against it; that specific part of the railing was fairly tall and made of concrete, hitting just under my chest, in a way that I could comfortably put my weight on it to look down at the city without fear of anything breaking.

For a while, the booming bass of the music and the loud voices inside of the apartment became dull noise as I watched the buildings below, places that I had visited the whole year and that impacted my life so greatly, now looking like my personal Lego city as I saw them from high up. The more commercial parts of town were almost entirely plunged into darkness, only the lampposts and some colorful lights from the most recent Christmas a testament that something actually happened in those areas. So my eyes drifted naturally to the residential regions, which were way more lively; lots of houses had their lights on, their inhabitants surely preparing for a great year, channeling that excitement either in the form of a simple family gathering or a loud boisterous party much like the one I was currently in.

“Ah, there you are. I was wondering about you.”

And just like that, I was taken away from my dream-like state by a gentle male voice - but that did not bother me at all. I had a soft smile on my face as I turned to face Tolkien, who walked slowly towards me with his hands in his pockets and returned my smile in kind.

Despite having already spent time together earlier, I couldn’t help but study his whole body up and down as he approached, taking in his whole outfit with great interest. A beige Burberry trench coat covered up the upper half of his body, ending about at the middle of his thighs, fully closed. The black trousers were also Burberry, but no different than any other run-of-the-mill pants to the untrained eye; the only thing that made them slightly different was a small embroidered design above one of the back pockets - which I only knew existed because I had taken that very same garment off of Tolkien’s body numerous times and watched him put it back on later. The charcoal grey scarf neatly wrapped around his neck had the LV monogram patterned all over it, clearly visible in its contrast even in the darkness of the late night. I couldn’t even begin to remember the brands of his shoes, his belt or his watch, the names sounding too expensive for me when he first told me, like one of those exclusive things that doesn’t even reach the ears of the common folk. Only his whole current ensemble was already more expensive than the full outfits of all the other guests combined, and he wore it like it was nothing.

I always greatly appreciated the way that he dressed. Not because it was all expensive and I liked to be seen with a rich guy, mind you; Tolkien could wear a potato sack and I’d still stare at him like the most perfect sculpture. It was the fact that, under all that expensive wrapping, the real gift was for my eyes only, complete perfection that was irrevocably mine.

The only thing currently getting in the way of that perfection was a pair of flimsy plastic glasses, a staple at NYE parties, according to whatever idiot it was that bought them. The damn things were neon yellow, glowed in the dark, and had ‘2025’ on top of the hollow circles that were the actual glasses. Apparently our friends couldn’t find the version that made the 0 and the second 2 the ‘eye’ part of the design - and thank God for that, or else I don’t think I could’ve kept my face straight for as long as I did while looking at Tolkien.

My boyfriend stopped right beside me and we both exchanged a loving glance at each other before our gazes returned to the town spreading below us. “I just needed a bit of fresh air. You know how it is.” I shrugged.

“So you chose to come outside where it’s freezing,” Tolkien retorted in light-hearted mockery, his arm making its way over my shoulders and pulling me closer against his side, that hand running up and down my arm as if trying to create extra heat over my coat. “So much for ‘fresh’.”

“At least now I get to be close to you like this.” I chuckled, leaning towards him and twisting the end of his scarf lazily on my index finger. “I see Clyde sold you out on the ugly-ass glasses.”

Tolkien’s eyes widened and his other hand quickly flew to his face, tearing away the colorful piece of plastic and throwing it over his shoulder as if it was toxic, his expression shifting into one of embarrassment at being caught wearing such a ridiculous object. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.” He mumbled, slightly dejected.

I laughed and wrapped my arms sideways around his waist. “It’s alright, I still love you.”

My answer was enough for him to lose his mortification and smile once more, turning his face towards me briefly to plant a kiss to the top of my head. He then turned to watch the buildings again, his expression much more peaceful - and beautiful, which he always was, but more so now that he had ditched the terrible party accessory.

“But hey, you’re outside,” I shot him a curious look, “Why’s that?”

“Needed some fresh air too,” it was his time to shrug, ”And wanted to at least try to enjoy the view. You know, the one I paid for?”

There was no arguing with that. For the guy that was paying for the whole thing, he surely didn’t get to enjoy most of the penthouse’s amenities before our friends completely trashed it, and we weren’t sure he’d have much patience for it the next day. “It is a very nice view, though,” I commented, “Probably the best I’ve ever seen.”

I heard the tiny ruffling of Tolkien’s scarf as he shook his head. “I’ve seen better.”

“Oh yeah?” I rolled my eyes jokingly. “What was it? Greece, Thailand, the Bahamas?”

“No, no, and no.” Every word of his negative was punctuated by a light tap of his index finger on my shoulder. “Right here in South Park, actually.”

A huff of disbelief left my mouth. “Baby, I think the alcohol is getting to you.”

He turned his whole body towards me and brought his hands to my shoulders, pushing them slightly so I was physically coaxed into facing him as well. “You don’t believe me?”

“It isn’t that I don’t,” I explained, “But you’ve travelled a lot, Tolkien. Surely someplace must look better than the middle of nowhere in America itself.”

“I don’t remember mentioning a place.”

The intensity of his gaze towards me, the sheer adoration in it, told me what words hadn’t yet. I felt my face getting hotter, internally thanking the dim lighting that might provide me with some sort of cover for the red tint that certainly spread in my cheeks. It was unbelievable - Tolkien and I had been together for a while, he had called me all the good adjectives in the dictionary by now, and still made me blush like a damn teenager every single time with his praise.

“You’re the best sight I’ll ever get to see,” one of his hands came to cup my cheek while the other tilted my chin slightly up, “I don’t really need to be anywhere else, if I can just have you by my side.”

“Well, I already am,” my voice was roughly more than a whisper, the low volume making both of us lean closer so I could be heard, “And I’ll always be. I’m yours, Tolkien.”

My lips met his halfway, closing the gap in a tender kiss, almost innocent as it started, letting our bodies cool down from the still present party energy and bringing us to focus on the serene aspects of our affection towards each other. Tolkien’s hands dropped to my waist as he realized he didn’t need to keep my face in position anymore, stroking up and down the sides of my body, making me wish I wasn’t wearing so many layers to keep warm just so I could feel his touch directly on me. 

When my arms wrapped around his neck and I tilted my face a bit, we both understood those moves for the invitation they were to deepen the kiss, and he sighed against my mouth as he pressed his lips on mine with more insistence. I felt the taste of the champagne on his tongue as it brushed against mine in a languid dance, and found myself yearning for more of that flavor, drinking it like it was the real beverage; I was a complete lightweight when it came to anything Tolkien.

What to me was heading out to be just a sweet couple of kisses quickly took a turn when my boyfriend swiftly pushed me and had my back hitting the railing. My legs instinctively spread apart to keep myself stable and he immediately claimed that space in the middle of them, rolling his hips against mine with our bodies pressed together. His lips started tracing a path over my jawline and down my neck with small kisses - making sure to get that tiny spot behind my ear that never failed to make my breath hitch -, getting to their destination on the crook of my neck, where tiny nips and suckles were added to the mix of his affectionate caresses on my body.

“Here?” A curious chuckle left my mouth as I inquired, though there was not a hint of anger or shame in my voice - it was more the fact that, in all of the time I knew him, Tolkien was always one to prefer the peace and quiet of four walls and a locked door for his more intimate displays of affection, instead of the open air and the sight of the wide sky like the situation we were in now. Being public like this, in a place full of people where anyone could simply walk outside for long enough and catch us, was unusual; but I wasn’t about to really complain.

“All the rooms are full already. I checked,” he stopped his assault on my neck for a moment to pull back slightly and give me a pleading look that could melt even the iciest of hearts, “Please, honey?”

There was no way I was going to deny the owner of those magnificent mahogany eyes anything he ever wanted in life, not when he looked at me like that, like I held the whole firmament that spread above us. I tilted my head away from him to expose my neck more in silent permission for him to continue working on it. “Hm, so you were planning for this.”

“And if I was?” Tolkien smirked, leaning forward and putting his mouth to my neck again, his grip on my waist tightening, “Can’t blame a man for wanting to be with his girlfriend instead of with a bunch of jerks on a beautiful night like this, can you?”

I really couldn’t, especially when said girlfriend also wanted to be with her man, and had the fast heartbeat to prove it. So instead I had my hands do the talking by letting them drift all over the front part of his trenchcoat, skilled fingers opening the buttons and the belt on it to make the work easier for my boyfriend. He helped me out by putting a bit of distance between our bodies so I could actually move my hands between us, but was flush against me again as soon as the last button was loose, pressing me insistently against the concrete railing.

His hand slid under my skirt, taking its time as it glided over my thighs in a velvety caress before making its way between them. One harsh tug at the thin fabric was enough for Tolkien to tear a hole through the crotch of my tights, then a few more for that hole to stretch wider and give him easier access to my still clothed core.

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he said as if reading my mind, his fingers now hooking under my panties to bring them aside and out of his way, “Just don’t want you to be cold.”

“What a gentleman.” It was only half of a jest - he truly was one.

Underwear now out of the way too, there was nothing separating my most sensitive area from my boyfriend’s loving touch. Two of his fingers traced my slit, spreading my arousal all over it, his sensual motions like fuel to the intense warmth that had built on my lower abdomen and was slowly spreading through my whole body. Tolkien brought his right hand around my left thigh and pulled it up so my leg was resting against his hip, leaving my other leg planted on the ground. My hands held onto his shoulders for stability, thumbs instinctively rubbing caresses he couldn’t physically feel over his thick coat but undoubtedly made its way to his heart. 

Seeing me in that position and completely open for him, he was quick to pull himself off from inside his pants - but I didn’t even have time to appreciate that beautiful cock of his with my eyes before he got into position and pushed it to the hilt inside of me, filling me up completely in one move, a hiss of pleasure leaving his mouth at the same time as a yelp of surprise and slight pain left mine. Such speed was another unusual occurrence; Tolkien was normally much more gentle when we made love, he liked to take his time and really feel me stretching around him.

My pain-like reaction was immediately noticed by my partner, and his wide-eyed worried gaze shot up to my face. “Everything alright, baby?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” my reassurance was accompanied by a deep sigh of relief on his part, “Just… Sudden.”

Tolkien nodded, pressing his forehead against mine. “Sorry,” he whispered, “It’s just… the cold, you know.”

I nodded emphatically, understanding his worry. If there was one thing I didn’t want right now, it was to be cock-blocked by Mother Nature.

He allowed himself to stay like this for a while, placing various quick yet luscious pecks to my mouth in succession, enjoying the sensation of my warmth enveloping him completely, and letting me adjust to his throbbing length as well. Then the arm he had around my thigh wrapped tighter as he started to move in slow, deep thrusts; his free hand roaming over my clothed body, tracing curves he couldn’t properly see but already knew completely by heart. He started off gentle, his cock massaging my walls with kindness, eyes fixated on mine, gauging my every reaction and letting his body transform the immensely positive feedback into motivation for him to keep going.

Small clouds would leave both our mouths with each exhale - the chemical phenomenon giving physical form to the lustful mist that slowly clouded both my mind and his, protecting us from the environment and also making us hyper-aware of our connection and every sensation related to each other’s touch. I could feel all the veins in his thick length imprinting my walls, my cunt the exact perfect shape for him, as if tailor-made. With every movement, he had his cock pressing against the sweet spot inside of me - it took everything I had for me to not brace myself and beg for him to take me hard and fast, because I still wanted to be with him, to savor that moment, to have it last.

In a surprising move, his hands left my body for a brief moment so he could hurriedly shed his coat and scarf, letting them fall to the floor without a care. Underneath that layer, he was wearing a navy blue Armani dress shirt - which I, completely disregarding his comfort or protection against the weather, undid the remaining closed buttons of as well, letting my nails lightly rake his toned torso as it was bare in front of me. Tolkien didn’t even shudder as the cold hit his now much less protected body, and I fully understood why; between the two of us, we were generating enough heat to make the whole building think it was summer.

“You look beautiful tonight.” I murmured tenderly, letting my hand stop splayed on the left side of his chest, right over his racing heart.

“You look beautiful always.” His eyes fluttered almost closed as he picked up speed on his thrusts, instinctively responding to my soft touch on his skin.

Whines of pleasure left my mouth more frequently with this new pace that chased the perfect middle ground between sweet lovemaking and rough fucking - a middle ground that Tolkien was always capable of achieving and that always had me running back for more of him. I was getting louder and louder every time, taking full advantage of the blaring music from the party, which prevented anyone else from hearing us and coming outside to check. My sounds seemed to reach Tolkien’s brain loud and clear, though, as he brought his face to my ear and started whispering lovely words of praise, his warm breath making the fine hairs behind my neck stand with the goosebumps it created.

In time, we both started to lose our senses of self in favor of pleasure, my arms wrapping around Tolkien’s neck as I tried to melt his body into mine and make us one whole thing. He, on the other hand, was throwing more and more of his caution off the penthouse railing - the sweet nothings he murmuring into my hair turning into slurred curse words I hardly ever heard him use, but that seemed to come naturally to him in that particular moment. The arm he had wrapped around my thigh brought my leg even higher against the side of his body, using the extra space and the slightly different position to pound harder against me; his other hand found itself on the almost non-existent space between our hips, sneaking down to my clit and skillfully rubbing circles on the sensitive nub. Immediately I felt like the whole sky had been brought down to me, breathy moans in quick succession trying to use up all the air in the atmosphere - I was getting dizzy on the way he made me feel so good, logical thought being replaced with utter need for him.

With the new stimulation, I was clenching harder than ever around Tolkien’s cock, and his body responded to all of my touches like it was all just an extension of the most sensitive areas of him, even though he was almost fully covered. I could feel his whole body tensing between my legs, against my thigh, under my arms, every part that he had against me was threatening to snap. His thrusts were all over the place and erratic, and he grunted with gritted teeth like he was one breath away from losing all control. Yet he held on to it for dear life, inhaling sharply as if he wanted the cold air to freeze him so he could last just a little bit longer - if there was one thing about my boyfriend, it was that he refused to cum until I did. 

Not that it would take too long for that. I tugged at Tolkien’s hair, pulling his head away from my neck so that he was directly facing me. His eyes were glazed off, almost completely gone, portals to his blissful mind.

“Tolkien… aaaah… I’m… I’m…” 

Proper words were starting to get lost on me as I tiptoed the edge of my orgasm. Yet, I still found it in me to say, right after, the only ones that would be on my heart no matter the situation as long as I was with him: “I love you…”

“I love you too, honey,” his voice was low and rough with his passion, “So… So much…”

And that simple expression overpowered me. I threw my head back, letting it dangle over the railing as my climax set my whole body ablaze, mouth opening wide in a moan of my lover’s name that was probably heard across the whole state. Opening my eyes and staring directly at the night sky, I saw every single star as close as they could be to my body, their very energy coursing through my skin like countless sparks. Even if thousands of light years away, the whole galaxy was etched deep into my very soul, and yet it was a mere atom in comparison to the size of my love for Tolkien.

I stopped hearing his harsh breathing during the whole time utter pleasure was flashing through me; granted, I didn’t hear much of anything at that moment, but I just knew he was watching my face with thorough veneration as I came. Then both of Tolkien’s arms wrapped around my body with an extremely protective squeeze as his body leaned towards mine instead of away, his hips stuttering frantically towards mine - the sight of my face in utmost pleasure and my walls tightening around him always managed to have him done for, and his release came almost immediately after. While he emptied himself inside of me, his head was hanging over my shoulder, face down, looking towards the streets and buildings dozens of meters below us. 

“Wow, we are so high up right now,” I heard Tolkien murmur with a slightly surprised tone to it, as if he had just been made aware of where exactly we were, despite us having taken in the view before. He was trembling slightly, half aftershocks and half a natural discomfort at the height. “It’s so cool.”

The chuckle that left my mouth with his comment was lazy, mirroring the completely spent state of my body. “So you’re sold on this being the best view ever now?”

He made a hum of disagreement, and when he spoke again, I could almost hear his smile. “Still not. But I guess I had forgotten about what was top 2.”

I knew where this was going, but, in my still slightly lust-drunk mind, I decided I wanted him to say it. “Which was…”

“Your face when you cum,” There it is, I thought to myself as he answered, “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Tolkien slowly straightened his posture, bringing my upper body along with him, his arms loosening around my body but still keeping me close. His cock was now softening inside of me, keeping all of his essence plugged in, filling me up with a type of warmth that had both everything and nothing to do with the hot seed that painted my walls.

When he pulled back a bit and my eyes scanned his satisfied features, I finally saw it - tiny specks of white now peppered his dark hair, creating a sharp contrasting image which definitely wasn’t there before. I lifted one of my hands to his head and gently brushed some of them away, the edges of my eyesight capturing Tolkien’s confused expression for a brief moment.

“It’s snowing,” I explained, hearing a hum of acknowledgement from him shortly after. He echoed my movements with one of his own hands, ghosting over my hair and shoulder, clearing me off of small ice crystals I couldn’t see.

“We should go back inside then,” he gestured with his head towards the penthouse, “We don’t wanna be here if it gets any worse.”

My head moved in a nod of agreement. Now that I didn’t have the fire of lust running through my veins anymore, I was made too aware of how the weather had gotten worse, and we really didn’t need the most intimate parts of us exposed to the harsh cold. We had to separate, make ourselves presentable again, and go back inside the apartment so I could rush to the bathroom before Tolkien’s release could create questionable stains on my ruined pantyhose.

However, despite acknowledging the discomfort of our bodies and the compromising position we were in, despite saying with all the words that we had to leave, none of us made a move. Tolkien was now completely soft, his arms had dropped their hold completely on my body to just let his hands rest on my hips. Yet my left leg was still wrapped around his waist, keeping me in the same position I was when we were making love, keeping the energy of our little escapade physically present with us for just a while longer in the form of that contact. We both distracted ourselves by looking up for a while, the twinkle of the stars present in our eyes, happy and serene.

“Honey?” Tolkien suddenly brought my attention back to him with a warm callout, the volume of his voice still low.

My eyes immediately went to him again. “Hm?”

“I love you.”

Even though my heart was soaring like it always did whenever he said that to me, I still let out an amused chuckle. “You already said that.”

“What’s wrong with saying it again?” one of his hands went to nudge my shoulder in a playful manner. “It’s true!”

“I know, I know.” The hand I had on his hair drifted down to his face, my silk-like touch caressing his cheek. “And I love you too, Tolkien.”

As he poured all those sweet words into my body with a passionate kiss, my resolution for the New Year was made, even though it had already long been completed. I’d spend every day of my life letting this love flow through my body, with Tolkien right next to me, making every single minute perfect for us.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[another-random-paradise]

Hiii! I saw ur account is open to Twisted Wonderland requests and I do hope I can make one request!

Maybe a request for Mozus Trein with an S/O(ofc they’re the same age as him) that is shy and timid but was once an outgoing teenager when they were young and how the two bond now that they’re seeing each other again with both of them knowing that both of them obviously had a crush on one another since teens but separated due to familial circumstances(def didn’t inspire this by an oc of mine, hahahahahaaa-)

Thank you so much for the request!! and yeahh, many of my ideas are based of OC's- Since you didn't specify, I decided to write this as a short fic, since i've been wanting to write one for quite a while now, i hope that's okay!! (tbh I'm so used to writing headcanons, that if you really want to, you can also read this as headcanons) Hope you enjoy :) Also, i refuse to take Treins girl dad privilege's so i simply turned his marriage into an arranged one-

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Trein and Childhood crush!Reader reconnecting after years apart

Characters: Mozus Trein

Format: Short Fic (972 words)

Warnings: None that i can think of

Trein was rummaging through some old stuff, with his wife's death a few years ago, he decided to declutter, when he stumbled upon an old box. An old box, filled with memories of his time as a teenager. Many of them included pictures of the two of you, how could they not, when he used to spend most of his time wishing he could spend every waking moment with you. Trein has always been an orderly person, perhaps that's why he loved you, you and your outgoing personality, never shying away from anything. If he was completely honest, he still does, and there is nothing he regrets more, than not marrying you.

He still remembers the day like it was yesterday, when his parents told him he was to be married, to a woman he didn't even know, once they were both eighteen, how it broke his heart. Of course, it had to be the same day he planned to finally confess to you. So, when you met him at your favorite spot, instead of a carefully planned speech about his feeling, one he knows he would have messed up anyways at the sight of your smile, he blurted out that he's engaged. He had never felt more pain, than as he watched your heart break, seeing the pain in your eyes. He only wishes that you were able to see how it hurt him too. And the two of you coming from a generation before phones existed made it hard to stay connected, so, in the end you lost sight of each other. Oh, how he wished he could have rebelled against his parents, he still wishes he did, but he always followed the rules his parents set, believing they only wanted the best for him, so how was he supposed to just stop? He is truly happy with his life, there is nothing he loves more than his daughters, and yet to this day, you have never left his heart. To this day, it wishes it were you with who he lived this life.

And it seems that his wishes were heard for once, as the doorbell rings. He is confused at first, the person at the door seems familiar to him, he just can't quite pin point it, at least not until the familiar stranger speaks-

"Long time no see, Mozus"

No matter how much you've changed over the years, the way you speak his name as you smile at him is something that remained the same, something that he could never forget. He invited you inside, the shock of seeing you so long painted clearly on his face. The two of you sit down at the coffee table, as he hands you your drink. He has many questions, and he can only assume you do too. It doesn't take long before you two are talking as openly as you did when you were younger, reminiscing about the older days, discussing what each of you did during your time apart; he tells much about his lovely daughters, talking about each of them as if they're a piece of art, before asking what you did during your time away. He noticed rather quickly that you spoke much quieter than when you were young, holding yourself back during stories instead of making them as big as can be, where he wouldn't have gotten a word in when you were young, he was now leading the conversation. But he couldn't say that he minded, it was only normal to change with age, and he's afraid his aged body wouldn't be able to handle the adventures attitude you had as a child; the change is welcomed with open arms, just as you welcomed everything that changed about him. The conversation lasts well into the night, it is already dark out when the two of you finally become tired. Being the gentleman that he is, and always was, he invites you to stay the night, perhaps even a few more if you have travelled from afar to meet him. As he goes to sleep, he feels a warmth he hasn't felt in years.

It was an early morning, when the sound of meows awoke you. It seems it didn't take long for Lucius to warm up to you either, as the tuxedo cat lets you pet him, albeit only for a few minutes, before elegantly walking of to eat breakfast. Deciding to follow suit, you get dressed and make your way to the kitchen. When you arrive, Trein is already making breakfast, wishing you a good morning, before returning his attention to the eggs. He is already dressed to a tee, you can only imagine how early he woke up. You decide to help him, carrying the finished food to the table, as you started to properly wake up. "Didn't you say you work at a college? don't you have to go to work soon?" you ask as you both sit down at the table. "Luckily, you visited me during the holidays, I have three more weeks before i need to return to work." He responded, a smile on his face. Very quickly the two of you made plans for these weeks, to reconnect.

And reconnect you did. Your plans very quickly turned into dates, as the two of you realize that neither of you ever got over your feelings. You finally do all, or rather all the things that you can do at your age, that you wanted to do as teenagers. Eventually, you even meet his daughters, who luckily seem to like you. They know their parents marriage was arranged, and seeing their father happy with you, makes them happy.

It may have taken many, many years of longing, but it seems that, in the end, fate still had a happy ending in mind for the two of you.

Very fun to write, very happy that i finally had the chance to try and write a proper fic!!

Feedback is welcomed, just be nice please :)

Hope you have a nice day/night!

[vodika-vibes]

Hey! Congratulations on the followers! I love your fics! I've just refound tumblr and have been obsessed with TBB and TCW .

May I please have a pansy and a purple lilac with TBB Tech and a F!reader?

Tiny Dancer

Summary: You own a dance studio on a small mid-rim world, which has started to have some severe electrical problems. Luckily, Tech is your neighbor and he's happy to help.

Pairing: TBB Tech x F!Reader

Word Count: 1120

Prompts: Pansy - You occupy my thoughts; Purple Lilac - first love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So, this is my first time writing Tech, so I hope I did him justice. And if I didn't, please let me know so I can do better next time. But! Welcome back to Tumblr and our little corner filled with Clones!

Once upon a time, before the war, you would travel from planet to planet, learning different dances from different people across the galaxy.

And, though you don’t like to brag, you like to think that you’re something of an expert in most forms of dancing. 

But when the War started, you were forced to find a safe planet to live on. Which is how you ended up here. On some mid-rim planet, running a dance studio for anyone who wants to learn.

Sure, the war is over, but with the Empire…

Well, it’s just not safe to travel anymore. 

Still, you like to think that you’re making the best of it. Or, well, you hope you are, in any event.

“You have no idea how grateful I am for this, Tech.” You say brightly to the tall man who’s standing on a ladder with his head half in your ceiling, “I would hate for someone to get hurt because of poor wiring. And the electrician I spoke to was so dismissive-”

“I am happy to help,” Tech says as he pulls his head out of the ceiling to look at you, “So far, however, I am not seeing any problems.”

Concern crosses your face, “Oh, but I saw-”

“I believe you.” He sits on the top of the ladder, “Is there another electrical panel somewhere?”

“Um…” You think back to what the previous owner said to you when you purchased the building, “The basement, I think.”

“Then we can look there next.” He climbs down the ladder, and snaps it closed before he leans it against one of the padded walls, “After you.”

You lead Tech through the studio, until you get to the basement door. You quickly unlock it, and then have to use your whole body weight to pull it open, “Sorry.” You say as you stumble back into him, “The door has always done that.”

Tech steadies you with a hand on your shoulder, “I can fix that.” He offers.

You beam at him, “Oh! Can you really? That would be wonderful!”

He stares at you for a moment, and then averts his gaze with a cough, “Yes, well. We should deal with the electrical problem first.”

“When you’re right, you’re right.” You reply with a bubbly laugh, before you turn and flip the lightswitch, and lead him down the concrete steps, “Sorry for the mess. I mostly use this as storage. And the previous owner left a bunch of junk behind when he moved out. I kind of hoped that a member of his family would come to claim it, but no dice.”

You step off the stairs, and push a stack of boxes out of the way, to make room for Tech.

“How much of this belongs to you?” Tech asks, as he pushes several boxes out of the way as well.

“Less than a quarter.” You admit with a sigh, “But I don’t want to just throw it all away, it’s not mine. Oh, the electrical box is on the back wall, I think.”

Tech sighs softly when he sees the stacks of boxes blocking his path to the electrical box, and you duck your head with a mumbled apology. “If I had known that physical labor was involved, I would have brought Wrecker.”

You giggle, “Sorry. But I do appreciate you doing this for me. I kind of expected you to tell me to kriff off.”

He shoots you an odd look, “You really think that?”

You shrug, “You’re a nice guy, Tech, but most people don’t exactly like having their freetime claimed by other people.” You grin at him, “I wouldn’t have minded if you said no, but I’m so glad you said yes.”

Tech releases a quiet laugh, “I do not think anyone can say no to you, least of all me.”

“Least of all?”

“Sorry?”

“You said ‘least of all’,” You clarify, “Why least of all?”

“Oh.” He glances at you out of the corner of his eyes, even as he slides boxes and old mats out of the way, “Because I think about you all the time. And I am pretty sure that I am in love with you. Though I am still trying to figure that out.”

You fumble with the small box you’re carrying, and only manage to not drop it because you set it on another box, “What?”

“Did you not think it was strange that I am always eager to help you?”

You stare at him, “No! I thought you just liked helping people!”

“I like helping you, specifically. You have never been bothered by my rambling.” Tech replies, “Even my own brothers tell me to shut up from time to time, but you never have.”

“Honestly, Tech, I didn’t think I was your type.” You admit sheepishly, “So I kind of slotted you in the ‘look but don’t touch’ column.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know if you noticed,” You say dryly, “But I’m a bit…flighty.”

“I noticed that, yes.”

“And, like, super scatterbrained. And not all that smart-”

“Do you want to know the first good memory I have of this planet?” Tech interrupts you.

“-uh…sure?”

“The summer dance festival.” Tech says, turning to watch you, “You were wearing this sheer material that reminded me of the ocean, and you were dancing to some type of music that I have never heard before-”

“I remember that. I was the opening act for the little ones.” You say with a small smile.

“It was the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen in my life,”

“I…really?”

“I think about that more than I should.” Tech admits, not the least bit ashamed.

You press your hands against your burning cheeks, “Oh.”

“If I have made you uncomfortable-”

“No! No! Not at all!” You blurt, and then you giggle, “I’m actually really, really happy.”

Tech pauses, “Happy enough to go on a date with me?”

You beam at him, “I’d really like that!”

A small smile crosses his face, “Then we can work out the details when we are finished here.” His smile grows when he hears you giggling even more.

“Alright! Then we should probably get to work moving the boxes.” You add as you force yourself to get your giggles under control. And then you grin, and quickly dart to his side and press a quick kiss to his cheek, before you pull away, “I have a box cart thing upstairs, let me go grab it!”And as you dart up the stairs, you see Tech press his hand against his cheek, where you just kissed him, and a bubbly giggle slips from your lips. This is the best day ever.

[barbswo]

I think I missed the Q&A :(

I was going to ask, what interested or drew you to Lucemond as a ship? (I know I have many reasons;) & what aspects/traits about them do you think attracts them to each other the most in ‘Tides’?😉

Don’t worry, I’ll host more! I had too much fun with you guys on the last one)

Moving on to your question:

You know, I had to go back and reread the texts I was sending my bf after having watched the first season, because I couldn’t pinpoint the moment in which I first thought about those two as a ship. I vividly remember seeing Lucerys grinning at Aemond across the table at that family supper and thinking “oh, that one will be a menace” (at that point I never opened ‘Fire and Blood’) and then the 10th episode hit, and I was mad. And what do I do when I’m mad? Yup, I go to ao3.

After spending an ungodly amount of time searching for fics that would be to my liking, I stumbled upon Lucemond. Then my tiktok fyp caught up, I bought myself a copy of ‘Fire and Blood’, read it, and my brain started spinning with the same infamous question that made me itch with a need to sit down and write my version of a story since I was like 12.

“But what if?..”

What if Lucerys had time to grow? What kind of a person he would become? What would his role be in the Dance, had it been postponed?

Lucemond sort of came as an afterthought. I was tired of seeing the same toxic, arrogant, devilishly handsome yet blank character Aemond was being written as in 90% of stories, because I couldn’t help but think what it would be like to be thrown as some kind of souless weapon into a war you had no intention of starting, being what? A teenager? How would he realistically react to all of that, being fed the idea of Rhaenyra and her family being the enemy since he was a child? How would his morals shift? What would their dynamic with grown Lucerys be like, once their skills reached the same level of excelence?

All those questions started giving me ideas, and I couldn’t find one story that would encapsulate them, so I sighed, opened a notebook and started writing.

Now about aspects and traits that attract those two to each other in ‘Tides’.

For Aemond, it obviously started with jealousy. Not only the bastard that took his eye isn’t punished, he has a brother that actually cares for him, speaks High Valyrian like a pro and refuses to burn—while Aemond is rotting in the Red Keep, alone and angry, his potential never recognized even by those closest to him. Jealousy spikes anger, anger spikes fury, fury bleeds into astonishment—and voila, our boy is hooked. Aemond is a simple guy at his core, to be honest. You tell him you hate him and he tilts his head and asks you to prove it.

For Lucerys, it was frustration. Imagine being called names over and over again, every insult followed by promises of vengeance and death—promises that never come to life. And then you spend some time apart, grow up, learn to defend yourself, and suddenly realize that the person you are supposed to be scared of is just as messed up as you are, and far more stupid. And you just want to shake them and bellow, “What do you fcking need from me?”, but they keep surprising you, so your frustration grows into curiosity.

Hadn’t Viserys died, I think they would’ve solved their issues in weeks. Because before the Dance hit they weren’t enemies, not really, more like rivals that had some bad blood between them, and most of their intense feelings were born out of bottled-down attraction. Once they got over themselves and talked, everything would be okay. Unfortunately for us, this is a story about a civil war.

And wars are never pretty.

I could go on and on about the intricacies of Tides!Lucemond, but I’ve never liked explaining my writing, because in truth, it’s all already out there. At this point in the story they both have seen the good and the bad in each other and accepted both sides of their coins. I’ve said this before, but I don’t believe in Lucemond if those two aren’t equally psychotic, and I wrote them to match “each other’s freaks”, so I guess their shared insanity works like a magnet there, too.

They still have a long road ahead of them. Both will make mistakes and choices. Tides are changing.

New chapter out soon.

[doodle-pops]

A Dance Made For Us

Finarfin x reader x Fingolfin

Kinktober 2023: Threesome

A/N: As this is the last fic of the event, I decided to go out with a bang (pun intended) and give you all the most words I've ever written for smut. I was in different moods while writing this, so excuse the long plot (I'm a sucker for plots, you all should know that by now). I had quite a lot of fun writing this and wanted to take my time building the tension to make this work despite being thrown off at numerous turns. Also, since this is a pairing not seen, I wanted to make it worth the read. In the end, I hope you enjoy the final fic!

Warnings: fem!reader, smut with plot, threesome, dom–sub dynamics, cunnilingus, blowjob, handjob, double penetration, anal and vaginal penetration, dirty talking, semi–public groping, flirtation, manhandling, nipple play, impact play (spanking), Finarfin loves titties, praising, body–worshipping, dom!Finarfin, dom!Fingolfin, asphyxiation, Finarfin being a snappy and impatient brat,

Words: 11.4k

Synopsis: As the upcoming ball for the House of Finwe approaches, the two young renowned Princes decide to improve their dancing. Inviting you, a longtime friend, to assist them, things take a fortunate turn when the heat gets turned on as you’re left alone in their hands. Determined to prove how much they have learned, they each take it upon themselves to demonstrate, competitively, their experienced skills.

List of Requests

Heels clopping away on the resplendent dance floor of the empty ballroom, your body was mesmerised by the fluidity of your dance partner and too caught up in the moment to acknowledge anyone else. Cerulean blue eyes were locked on yours as he led you step by step, feeling as though it was more than just dancing and another form of physical intimacy. A simple request from the elder of the two princes turned into a jealous game, switching you back and forth between each other to professionalise their performance for the upcoming Yule ball. You were most content with the impression that they were eager to improve their gracefulness and elegance after the last incident—constantly having your foot stepped on was not promising.

However, had you known there was a fourth person in the opulent and grand room, you would have gladly accepted their offer. The instructor’s presence, constantly hovering like a cautious parent, was irritating. Their presence had already vanished the moment you engaged with either of the princes, twirling you around and placing their hands on your waist. However, their irritating voice consistently broke your concentration, causing you to accidentally step harshly on Fingolfin’s right foot, making him stumble backwards, almost colliding with a pillar.

The scene only fuelled the instructor’s frustration, while you rolled your eyes, thanks to their incessant, annoying voice periodically disrupting your focus. You were already enjoying yourself, dancing around the room freely with Fingolfin—the first time you had ever seen the uptight prince so carefree and relaxed. Perhaps it was because Finarfin was present and not his elder brother, but you were pleased to see him in a leisurely state without being reprimanded for messing up the dance sequence; instead, it was the dance instructor who took on that task.

She finally couldn’t take it any longer and shouted, “Stop, stop, stop, stop. Enough!” With that, the three of you took the opportunity to laugh at her distress, knowing that your antics were working. From the beginning, none of you wanted the instructor to loom around the ballroom due to her history of giving the princes harsh lessons and ruining their fun. The more you stressed her out, the sooner she would give up or call off their lessons. “Your Highness, I implore you, with all due respect, the steps are quick, quick, slow. Not quick, slow, quick.”

As you turned in each other’s arms, you caught Finarfin giggling behind the instructor, his hand covering his mouth as he tried not to get into trouble. It seemed that he was the only one among the three of you who had escaped the instructor’s wrath and was now making it his mission to mock both of you and the instructor’s pressure. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at his childish antics, you bit your tongue as the instructor came forward and asked you to step aside to demonstrate the proper moves to Fingolfin.

Gently sidestepping, you hurried to stand beside Finarfin, not without giving his arm a playful pinch for his antics. Both of you couldn’t help but shoot Fingolfin a playful pout as he had no choice but to engage in a brief dance session with the instructor to correct his mistake. “Looks like the instructor won’t be giving up on you two anytime soon. How long has it been?” you whispered discreetly to the golden–haired beauty next to you.

“I’d say she’s onto us this time. It’s been two and a half hours. Last time, she gave up after just an hour,” he chuckled, completely carefree, stealing glances at you, who couldn’t help but clutch your stomach from laughing. “But it seems like háno is enjoying his private dance lessons.”

Suppressing another fit of laughter, you turned your head to catch Fingolfin’s desperate plea in his facial expressions. Clinging to Finarfin’s tunic, you doubled over, amused by the way Fingolfin’s face contorted into a plea for help. It had dawned on Fingolfin that inviting you had been a grave mistake, given your apparent lack of concern for him and your tendency to find his reactions amusing. If he had known this would be the outcome of the dance lesson, he might have convinced his brother to leave you out. Nevertheless, watching your unbridled joy was utterly captivating.

“He looks like he’s on the verge of passing out any moment. Save him, Ara, or he’ll spontaneously combust, and we’ll never hear the end of it,” you urged, playfully pushing Finarfin towards his brother to rescue him from embarrassment.

To the disappointment of both his brother and your plea, Finarfin stepped aside, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Are you insane?! Do I look like I want to be devoured by Lady Ancalmaril? When she’s done or grows tired of us, that’s entirely her decision.”

With a playful grimace, you pressed your lips together, watching him retreat to stand behind you. You couldn’t help but shiver slightly at his proximity and the warmth radiating from his tunic–clad body. It wasn’t unusual for either of the brothers to have such an effect on you, but it seemed to be happening more frequently as if they were becoming aware of your reactions. You chose not to dwell on it, not wanting to misinterpret the situation and risk damaging the friendship between the three of you. Instead, you remained focused on the scene before you: Fingolfin being spun by the instructor after his failed attempt at spinning her. However, somewhere during her attempt to spin him, his feet kicked out and unintentionally stomped on hers. This sent her into a fit of winces and eye twitches as she struggled to suppress the growing pain caused by the weight of the overgrown young prince on her poor foot.

“Alright, that’s enough! My prince, you’re too distracted right now. Let your brother have a turn while you take a break,” she commanded, flicking her wrist as her fingers indicated where she wanted you all to move and biting her tongue to not cry out.

Without wasting a moment at the opportunity, Finarfin wrapped his slender arm around your waist, pulling your body close to his newly developed abdominal muscles. He effortlessly led you onto the dance floor. From the sidelines, he could see his brother looking defeated, aware that Finarfin was about to take the lead and win this round—an ongoing, silent bet between the brothers.

As your body glided across the floor without your feet touching it, you felt like you were flying through the air, carried by Finarfin like a doll eager to have his turn with you once again. It had been over an hour since he had last danced with you, while his brother had taken the spotlight, twirling you around the opulent and grand dance floor like a princess.

Laughter rippled through your body as his hands gently cupped your waist and spun you like a top. He was eager to display his skills and show off to his brother, asserting himself as the superior dancer and partner. He threw a smug look in Fingolfin’s direction, silently declaring, “I’ve won,” and led you across the floor with care, diligently repeating the dance steps he had been taught and avoiding the mistakes he had made earlier. Anything to prevent the instructor from separating you two and prematurely ending the session. If that were to happen, you would have no choice but to leave immediately. As an unmarried maiden suitable for courtship, and with your parents being rather strict about chaperoning, discretion was essential, and it became apparently knowledgeable on the instructor’s end.

Catching the younger prince’s eyes, he sent you a flirtatious wink before spinning you around and seamlessly transitioning into another sequence. His hands, at times, felt heavier on your waist, occasionally rising higher on your back or dipping lower just above your backside. You could sense his attempt to maintain dignity as the dance progressed, even as your bodies drew closer, allowing you to feel his muscles and warmth. You couldn’t tell whether it was you or him who was breathing harder as you focused on the intensifying proximity.

The flirty winks persisted, but the palpable look in his eyes, as they roamed your face, made your breath hitch. Your cheeks grew warmer the longer his electric blue eyes locked onto your features, darting from his lips to his eyes and then to his feet when you realized you were caught gazing. The tension between you both intensified, combined with the audience watching, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you feared making a mistake and disrupting the sequence. It was a struggle to maintain your composure while resisting the urge to not combust in his arms like a fool.

This wasn’t the first time such a situation had unfolded. Your initial dance lesson with the princes had been conducted in a similar manner. The closeness and their tantalizing touches always flirted with the edge of something more, their bodies pressing nearer without inhibition as each session continued. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was still a dance session meant to enhance their professionalism on the dance floor or if it had morphed into a courtesan bird dance; like a peacock impressing its lady. The glances exchanged with every twirl and dip, their hands caressing your curves and tracing the contours of your back, left you internally on edge.

“Just where do you think your hands are going?” You attempted to sound playful through your breathless whisper as the heat in your face intensified due to the closeness between you both and the presence of the audience. Instead, your voice shivered and rattled with nerves at the impending knowledge of his touch being seductive. To be honest, if he was endeavouring to kiss you at this moment, you had at least hoped it would be in private, away from his brother and the instructor. There was no denying that the golden–haired prince was breathtakingly gorgeous, and it had been a dream of yours, like many others, to share an intimate moment with him, even if it was just a kiss for the experience.

Sensing your anxiety, there was a playful grin he wore on his lips before glancing over your shoulder and realising that only the three of you remained in the room; Lady Ancalmaril had left to fetch some refreshments and ease her foot during your flawless performance. Taking a moment to lock eyes with his brother, a questioning look was exchanged and silently mouthed, “How long?” Fingolfin responded with, “Hour.”

Maintaining their gaze on his older brother, the two of them shared a moment where their thoughts traversed, having planned such an encounter ages ago. The slight uplift at the corners of their lips, the daring gleam in their eyes, the arched brows, and the biting of their lips—all were signs that left you puzzled as you observed Finarfin’s expressions. His body continued to move with fluidity despite engaging in a heated, silent conversation, surprising him that he could perform so smoothly without getting distracted.

Nodding with a surge of excitement coursing through his veins as their plan finally took shape, he shifted his focus back to you and offered a sweet smile. “My hands are right where they should be, love. We are dancing, after all,” he said with a dazzling smile, giving you a half twirl and pressing your back against his chest. “Or perhaps you’d prefer my hands elsewhere?” You could discern his intentions from his voice. His smile was hypnotic as he gently moved his left hand higher up your sides, pressing you even closer against his chest, eliminating any space between you. Your breath caught, and you swallowed hard as you turned your head to gaze at his enticing demeanour.

As your face came in contact, his head nestled in the junction of your neck, and his tranquil breathing caressed your face. The scent of peppermint from the tea you had both shared earlier still lingered in his breath. His proximity was somewhat overwhelming; his hair and arms enveloped you both, and his cheeks brushed delicately against yours. The two of you gradually slowed your movements into a gentle sway, your front now facing away from Fingolfin and towards the giant vivid canvas adorning the wall, while Finarfin seized the opportunity to strike with even more passion.

His left hand was perched on your waist while the other trailed up your sides, fingers gliding over your dress, leaving behind a frustrating sensation. Not once did his fingers venture past your bustline; instead, they chose to linger around your abdominal area, skimming across your stomach and sides. The unspoken narrative conveyed through his actions marked a turning point and turmoil in your life. Never before had you felt the desire to seize his hands and guide them to where they should be if he intended to tease you like this. The realisation that he was your best friend, and a prince was a fleeting thought when he engaged in such provocative actions without seemingly considering the need for discussion or consent. You could sense that he was wearing his smug expression as his actions continued, savouring the way your muscles clenched and reacted to the sensations he provoked.

Your hands, which had initially held onto his delicate wrists, now clutched the material around his thighs, fingers curling into the silky fabric and struggling to maintain a grip as he continued to tease you. Your heart raced, its thunderous beats echoing in your ears as his fingers persisted in their tantalizing caresses, and an array of butterflies gathered in places they shouldn’t have. You comprehended what was happening, and yet, you didn’t. When had the mischievous golden–haired figure acquired all these seductive tricks?

A mocking laugh echoed beside your right ear, but you were too lost in thought to notice his right hand leaving your waist to cup your chin, gently turning your head to meet his suggestive gaze. A melody as sweet and disconcerting as caramel and cream followed. “Are you alright? Do you need a little...assistance in focusing?”

At this point, you had mixed emotions, contemplating whether you should strangle him on the spot for his absurd, nonsensical question. He certainly had a knack for getting on your nerves with his impeccable charm. His closeness made you queasy as his face inched nearer to yours, causing a swarm of butterflies to assail you. Swallowing hard as he loomed, your pulse quickened as his thumb lifted to trace over your lips, your eyes following its every move. Interestingly, the hand that had been gliding over your clothed skin now splayed its fingers beneath your diaphragm, pulling you closer to his warm body.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice thick with intoxication, your head leaning forward, drawn to meet his lips.

Licking his own lips and giving a seductive nibble, he stretched his slightly reddened lips into a cunning smirk. “Dancing,” he coolly commented.

“This isn’t dancing; this isn’t like you at all,” you softly muttered, your eyes locking onto his and searching for the desire you had already discovered swirling in his gaze. You simply wished to confirm that what you were experiencing was not a product of your imagination.

He jerked his head with an inaudible scoff, giving a half roll of his eyes before responding casually. “Of course, we’re dancing...just something a bit different.” Dropping his hands to your waist once more, he spun you sharply, returning you to your original position from the beginning. Hooking your left arm over his shoulder, he placed a kiss against the exposed skin and lifted the other side to wrap around his neck, allowing him to resume his close proximity. “You should know that there are plenty of things you don’t know about me.”

“So, pretending to lack modesty and flirting is one of them?” you teased, your voice catching when he pushed your chest against his so that your faces were intimately close.

Swaying from side to side, but remaining in your fixed position, he regarded your face with a hint of amusement. “Flirting is indeed one of them. As for dignity, I wouldn’t consider this a lack of it; it’s more like me acting on my deep desires.” His face closed the distance to bring his lips against the shell of your ear. The initial coolness, followed by the warmth of his breath, prompted you to close your eyes as he whispered. His lips lightly tickled your earlobe, a delicate touch of his moist lips against your skin that nearly made your knees buckle.

Tightening his grip around your waist in response to the sudden jerk, he bit his lip to stifle his laughter. “Is this how you choose to behave? Engaging in a flirtatious charade before your brother and then claiming to have propriety? The Ara I know would never act in such a manner,” you shakily hissed, suppressing the urge to easily yield to his embrace.

Chuckling softly, he pulled back and locked eyes with you. “Your dear Ara is still here, taking control of the situation and acting according to his own will.” The tension in the room had reached its zenith. Your bodies were no longer swaying; you stood still, yet the absence of space between you both made the heat and desire emanating from your proximity palpable. You wondered if he could sense your erratic heartbeat from the wild look in your eyes as you traced his features.

The presence of Fingolfin in the background faded, thanks to the excellent job Finarfin had done in ensnaring both of you in this private paradise. It was a little bubble where he could openly seduce you to his heart’s desires, having the best of both worlds. You were intrigued by his intentions as he lured you in with every enticing word and brush of his hands. The enchantment was released, and you felt ensnared like a genie in a bottle, here to fulfil his every need.

Your lips brushed against each other, and the desire to close the gap and lose yourselves on the marble floor became overwhelming. You gently nudged his upper lip with a question, “So, what is your desire?”

“To have you; to have you on this very floor, against the wall, the bed, wherever you wish, so long as you cry out my name,” he declared without missing a single beat.

“Ara…” you mumbled in response to his directness, too stunned to formulate a suitable reply as he continued to brush his lips against yours, planting delicate kisses.

Growing impatient with the prolonged teasing and eager to proceed with his plan before the instructor returned to disrupt the tension in the room, he pressed a firm kiss at the corner of your mouth. Receiving a silent yet observant response, he saw it as a challenge and continued, placing another kiss on the opposite corner, closer to your lips, nearly covering most of them. He had been living up to his reputation as a considerable tease since the start of this dance session. “Are you going to grant me the honour? I don’t particularly enjoy indulging impatience in a situation like this.”

To emphasize his point, it became evident why he kept pressing your bodies together. His evident erection pressed against your abdomen through his leggings and robe, feeling solid and vigorous, and you couldn’t even gauge it with your hands.

“Then you’ll have to get used to being patient. You can’t have your way all the time,” you teased, moving your face to temptingly pull your lips away from his, which made him softly whine.

“I concur.” The addition of a third voice broke your concentration, and you opened your eyes, glancing to the right to see Fingolfin standing behind his brother with the same impatient expression. Much darker eyes filled with annoyance that scene unfolding without generously requesting his assistance. Undoubtedly, they were brothers cut from the same cloth; one just happened to wear his impatience more openly than the other. “But if you are serious about committing to this... engagement, shall we continue in private?”

**

Being tugged against firm bodies and having the eager hands of the princes roam your body was astonishing. Since they possessed a fibre in their fragile body to be aggressive and lustful. To be frank, you wouldn’t have expected this behaviour from either brother given their dedication to upholding their dignity. Though, the last person you imagined being rough was Finarfin given his gentle–natured persona; and judging from the firm grip on your waist and the constant tugging into his chest, impatience was becoming his apparel also.

You stood in the middle of an ongoing tug–of–war between two brothers was a heavenly wish that only felt natural to be a dream. There was no difference between their touch as it was equally aggressive and visceral; the weight of their hands and lips, biting and tugging, gave the impression that you were merely a ragdoll. Your purpose was to serve them and their desires, be tossed about however it pleased them, so long as they were satisfied—it would be polite of them to also grant an insurmountable volume of pleasure in return for the service you were willing to provide. Being invited into the house of the King and finding yourself entangled between desirable princes was no ordinary occurrence, this was divine intervention.

With Finarfin at your front and Fingolfin at your back, their hands were busy unlacing your unnecessary complex dress, passionate to have your bare skin to their luxury. As their hands scrambled, one pair of lips was attached to yours and another to your neck. It was an unbelievable sight observing the friendly boyish persona of Finarfin dissipate and turn into a hungry beast. Fingolfin was a bit less expected given the entire stoic demeanour, nevertheless, what he had in store was equally anticipatory as Finarfin’s.

Feeling the heat of their breaths scorch your skin, Finarfin was the first to pull back, offering a cheeky grin as his fingers finally tugged the string out the last loop to loosen your dress. Without question, his hands reached for the tops of your dress and gave it a harsh tug to slide the material over your shoulders and down your arms. It didn’t get far once your arms were raised to cover your slightly exposed chest, conscious of revealing your nudity to your friends. A sense of self–possession had abruptly manifested and echoed remembrances of your relationship with them.

“Do you…Do you want us to stop?” quizzed Finarfin. Evident sadness showed in his eyes as his hands fumbled with the frills on the edges of your dress. Behind you, Fingolfin ceased his ministrations and looked over your shoulder to gauge the situation. Even he was puzzled by the new silence and looming question.

“Is everything alright?” inquired Fingolfin.

Turning your head to catch his pensive stare, you dipped your eyes to meet his chest out of nerves. His gaze was forever intense, no matter if the situation was tender–loving. Nodding your head with an audible hum, your gaze remained focused on his chest while Finarfin’s fingers still toyed with the frills of your dress that gathered on your arms. You gathered the younger experiencing impatience and the older, anticipation while you felt like a puddle in the middle, full of nerves.

Were you truly about to bare your naked body before the princes and in return, have them naked as well? You were about to see each other naked and…sleep with them. Count your blessings and consider yourself the chosen one. You couldn’t help but bite your lip to suppress the growing smile from your thoughts. A bit of a giddy feeling settled in your stomach and pumped through your veins at the recognition of being lucky. All that was necessary was to push the jitters away and carry on; let them care for you how they desired and enjoy the ride.

“It’s alright, I’m just—you know, nervous.” You giggled and lifted your hands to cover your mouth from turning into full–blown laughter. “I still can’t believe all this is happening. I mean, we’re friends and you really want to sleep with me—how are you two normal about this?”

With a subdued chuckle, Fingolfin stepped back and made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed to remove each boot. To him, he took your enthusiastic questioning as a sign that you weren’t against the interaction and motioned to undress himself first; perhaps as a means to calm your jitters and show that he was thrilled to engage with you. “Uh–huh, it’s a bit shameful to note that this was something we planned—”

“Yes, yes! We both planned this entire interaction. Though, it was mostly I who came up with it and háno tagged along until he realised he was losing and showed more effort last minute.” Came the impatient voice of Finarfin who was growing annoyed as the minutes passed and turned what should have been intimate, into an explanation. His visage did a perfect job of mimicking the annoyance he suffered during the entire exchange while sporting an erection, desperately in need of being nurtured. “He obviously lost, but I’m gracious enough to not leave him to suffer.”

Darting a comical appraisal at the nonchalant blond, you poked your cheek with your tongue and mused. “This was a bet?!”

“Yes, and it was quite silly. To basically see who would be considered the better dancer; as you can tell, Ara got more praises and now wishes to…uh,” Fingolfin’s voice trailed off, embarrassed to highlight his brother’s dire urgencies to perform.

“Show you just how skilled of a dancer I am.” The grip he held on your dress was used as leverage to tug you into his chest. One hand snaked around to press against your back and the other gripped both your hands to pry them off your chest. “I haven’t forgotten how much you used to tease me in the beginning, Y/N.”

Feeling the weight of his hands prying yours away from your chest, small peeks of your cleavage became visible to his naughty eyes. A lustful glint flashed at the reveal urging him to act without manners as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck. His teeth clamped down on your skin, leaving a sore bruise before his tongue swiped over the area to soothe the pain. This was just the first act of his performance, the next was his hands reaching for the rest of your dress and tugging it off your arms to pool around your waist.

Being distracted and lost in the pleasure of his delicate lips attaching your neck like some ferocious beast, you were caught off guard when he peeled the rest of your dress off to gather around your waist. Knowing that you would sense your semi–nudity, your arms were hitched around his neck to entangle in his luscious curls while he continued to lavish your neck, switching from side to side and moving lower. With every swipe of his tongue against your clavicle, your fingers curled into his tresses and tugged with anticipation.

Gone were the negative thoughts about sleeping with them and hello to the excitement.

Panting from the hurried movements of Finarfin as he eagerly nipped and kissed your skin, you felt another presence from behind. It was Fingolfin with his hands raised to unbound your braids and remove the hairpins. He was stealthy as he elegantly unloosened your braids and allowed your hair freedom. Once that was completed, his fingers traced your neck, loving the way you shivered and arched into his brother’s mouth, and moved down your spine until he arrived at your dress.

You felt the hesitation as though he was waiting for you to object, it was a split second of a moment before he regained confidence and pushed it off your waist. Falling to the fall like silk, your dress pooled at your feet and bared your naked form to either brother. There was an intake of breath, and you knew it came from Fingolfin since Finarfin was busy kissing around your breast, contemplating which side to indulge first.

“See something you like?” you squeezed out airily, eyes closed and sensing his intense gaze was on your entire body, mentally cherishing the image to use for later purposes.

With a reserved laugh, he stepped forward and placed his hands on your hips, allowing his body to stand closer to yours and letting you feel his heat. He was naked, entirely. The weight of his hands against your hips felt sturdy while the heat radiating was scorching. You felt the entire outline of his physique with only a few inches of spacing between you both; you could only imagine what he would feel like with no crevice. God, you couldn’t imagine what the weight of him on you would be like given his towering and slightly muscular figure. You couldn’t wait to feel both of them naked and pressed against you.

Joining his brother, his lips swiftly returned to your neck to litter and array of wet kisses, creating a curve with them and inching down your spine. “I love everything I’m seeing here,” he whispered into your skin as he positioned himself on his knees.

On the other end, Finarfin took to opportunity to finally break away from your breast, leaving his artwork evident—able to contest with the greatest artists—to undress. His eyes darted from your face contorting into pleasure to witness his brother kneeling behind you, worshipping your form. Had he not been compassionate, he would have denied his brother a chance to share you among them both. Shaking his head at how ravenous Fingolfin appeared, he reached for his robes and shoved them off haphazardly, followed by his tunic, shirt, boots and leggings until he left standing bare. Lifting his hand for the gold hairpin, his tangled curls came unbound and cascaded in a mess.

His sinful gaze returned to your figure. Hands curled around Fingolfin’s wrists on your waists, head tossed back, lips parted and breasts perky, you looked like a five–course meal waiting for him to devour.

“Why don’t we move this to the bed? It’s much more comfortable,” suggested Finarfin. He stood with one hand tossing his hair over his shoulder and the other leading to stroke his leaking cock. 

Snapping your eyes open to gaze at the enchanting figure before you; you weren’t sure if you were able to tear your eyes away. This was the last image you would expect from the youngest to bear, let alone his physique. What the hell was in the water they drank? Were they willing to share some?

It didn’t help when your eyes followed the motion of his hands, knowing he was spitefully goading, to where it met his cock, giving it a few tugs and swiping the precum off to gain friction. You licked your lips. Was it normal to yearn for your best friend in such a manner, especially after seeing his member? Seeing a fair share of them before, his was substantially impressive and lovely to look at. Robust, curved, lengthy and how fortunate you were to bear witness to the rumours. The House of Finwe indeed loved the idea of breeding given the fruitfulness of his…ahem, balls.

It was impossible to not bite and lick your lips at the awareness of him being inside you.

Fainting at the notion was a great idea also since Fingolfin removed himself off his knees and guided you to the bed, giving you a perfect view of his delectable proportions. Seeing was far better sensing his physique. The one thing that made Fingolfin stand out more than his brother was the girth and texture. And now that both brothers stood side by side, towering above your smaller figure, you felt every nerve in your body tingling. Your heart surged to great heights, as did your breathing; lip biting and licking, you squeezed your thighs together as the growing sensation seeped through your fold and stained your inner thighs. There was a waterfall gushing out gallons per second between your legs the longer to stared and made comparisons to induce your light–headedness.

Your toes curled into the carpet, digging away at the plushness underneath your feet at the journey you were about to participate in. Not waiting for motivation, you made the first move to drag your body further up the bed only to be stopped by the gentle hands of the younger tugging you back down to the edge and sliding them higher your thighs, squeezing the flesh as he was enticed by it plumpness before settling on your hips. Fingolfin stepped aside to perch on the bed and settle behind you on his knees, aware of the position his brother would soon have you in. It wasn’t always that Fingolfin gave his brother the opportunity to take the lead in whatever activities they tag–team in, but given the advantages, he was willing to submit just once under his brother’s command.

“Would you be a dear and turn over for me, least you wish I flip you over myself. I haven’t any problem showing off my recently acquired strength,” he sweetly asked, looking up from the newly seated position on being on his knees. It wasn’t odd seeing him like this after the numerous moments he have gotten down to lace your boots, but currently, with the miniature shocks of your pulse radiating in the core of your cunt, you could enjoy this sight more often.

However, your moment of idling and dwelling on the situation led to his ever–impatient nature to react before being a gentleman. Flipped onto your stomach with hands roughly positioning you into his desired spot, you came face to face with the godly sight of Fingolfin on his knees, ebony hair pouring down his chest to end at his waist and pulling back to reveal the spectacle of his highlight. With your body on its knees and braced by your hands, it was easy for you to reach out without any form of permission to trespass and grip the base of his cock to give a patronising stroke all the way to the tip where your thumb swiped the head.

Once his precum was collected, the temptress in you forced your eyes to meet his darkened gaze and licked his arousal off the tip of your finger. The eye contact you held made his knees buckle and his stomach clench. A hand shot out to entwine itself strategically and gave your head a yank closer to his aroused and awaiting cock to be put out of misery.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and put that smart mouth to use, see how much you’re smirking with my cock down your throat.” His words were final as his actions followed, inching your head closer for the tip to collide with the outer shape of your lips. You didn’t know he had such foul and debauching behaviour when he acted with a stick up his ass to grip his cock and trace your lips with his tip. Smearing the remaining precum across the surface, he gave a sharp command to open your mouth and slid his cock against your tongue, hissing.

Both hands now nestled in your head, guided your movements as you bobbed back and forth along his length. It was impossible to take him whole, even fit most of his girth within your mouth. The texture of his veins sliding under your tongue was enough to send him insane. The most you were able to do with him governing his pleasure was leave him to his devices while he worked your mouth like a toy.

On the other, little impatient Finarfin wasn’t waiting another second longer and approached the edge of the bed to run his slender fingers against the back of your thighs. The little jolts and shudders the closer he arrived at your centre thrilled and satisfied him to know that soon your focus would be placed on his tongue. While Fingolfin was known for his more dominant approach, Finarfin’s approach, still dominant, was rather a service towards the pleasure of the body. He preferred to gain his pleasure while being in control but focused on providing service to his partners' pleasure, and he knew just what to do in order to have your attention.

You felt his breath and knew what followed. The motion of his tongue trailing along the outer lips and skin of your cunt, nipping and kissing before arriving at his destination. The first flick upon your clit was light, too gentle to feel anything and to catch you off guard with the rough action of his enter mouth trapping your bud. Vigorously he suckled and sent vibrations through your body, shaking his mop of golden curls as he lavished in the moment and your taste. You had nowhere to run to when his hands snatched your thighs and pinned you in your spot for Eru knew how long.

The best you were able to do was moan on Fingolfin’s cock, prompting the older male to yank your head off and gift you a moment to breathe before resuming the position. On one end you were giving and on the other, you were receiving—what a time to be alive and best friends with the Noldorin Princes. Eru bless your soul for managing to capture their attention from childhood and remaining close or this moment would have never manifested. Whatever you had done to warrant this, even if a manual was being gifted to warn you ahead, you would have flung it out the window and proceeded without caution. There wasn’t any need when the trouble was so deliciously satisfying and blissful.

Naturally, your legs parted and back ached to grant Finarfin better accommodation as his tongue worked on overtime. The fluid flicks of his tongue running over your sweet bundle of nerves before he engulfed the entire bud into his mouth were wicked. He should be charged for such a sinister crime. Nevertheless, the same could be said as Fingolfin’s hips began moving and hands stabilising your head to make way for a clear path. Your mouth was messy and your eyes teary and to him, you looked divine. There wasn’t a better look that suited you more, perhaps having you riding him could challenge the sight.

It was impossible to remain focused as the expertise of either male was challenging one another. The louder your moans became; it was obvious one wished to be the cause of those horrendous sounds escaping. It only urged both males to persist.

“Come on love, I know you sound louder than that,” encouraged Finarfin, eager to be the creator of your latest instrumental. Lifting his left hand off your thigh he brought it down to leave a resounding slap and elicited a choked moan on his brother’s cock. Grinning into your cunt, he hummed pleased at the reaction and continued.

The combination of your choked sobs being emitted and moans all over Fingolfin’s cock was a triumph for the goldened hair youngling. The pleasure was satisfactory for the older but too much at the same time as it forced his balls to clench with forewarning of his orgasm building earlier than expected. With a dreadful yank of your head off his cock, a string of saliva connected the tip to your swollen lips. His urge to just kiss you at the moment was dire and disconnected from your keenness to continue toying with his member.

Right hand out and gripping the base, you caught him off guard and left him unsure of your future sequence. All he could do was stare with a stiffened stomach in anticipation as you shut your eyes attempting to focus while his brother ruined you. At some point when you awoke, you tossed your head to the right and peeked up at him through your lashes once your lips came in contact with his tip once more. Placing what little knowledge you learnt from the rumours, your wrist flicked, and your head bobbed in sync, taking half of him into your mouth.

“You seem to like that, don’t you?” you whispered teasingly before throwing a wink and resuming your ministrations, leaving him without a chance to respond sensibly. His deep groans ricocheted and vibrated in his chest, a sound unlike any other you had heard. You did that, you made the stoic prince crumble under your tongue; something to tease him with for eternity, and should he wish for your silence, there were ways to be treated.

Glancing at the sight of his stomach clenched and beads of perspiration running down his washboard abs was sinful. Thanks to the sight, Finarfin was blessed with the sudden downpour of more arousal trickling into his mouth. The image of this male before you, commanding and unmoving with his presence being diminished to a whimpering state with only the use of your tongue was power unlike any other. The soft whimpering and body arching backwards the more your mouth slid deeper, taking your time to fit as much into your mouth left him weakened.

Topped with the wicked intentions of the youngest plunging his tongue like sword in and out your entrance, swirling and lavishing every inch, it contributed to the vibrations Fingolfin was receiving. No longer did his hands guide your head, but rather made the option to run along your back to add a touch of stimulation. He left you to take control and run your tongue along each of his veins, mapping out the shape and weight of his member with your mouth. You had seemed to be relishing the freedom that he allowed, the most he could do in return was assist in your pleasure while his brother’s golden head was busy at the other end.

Fingernails scraping along your back, you shivered and bowed into the bed against his touch. Something about his actions and his brother’s forced the sensitivity of your skin to heighten tremendously. You felt as though you were in a tumultuous battle, and you were only on the first round.

“Enjoying yourself Ara?” Fingolfin hummed as his fingers reached your ass and rubbed the flesh, enticed by the smoothness and how it moved under his touch. All the while his brother’s response was a focused hum due to his mouth being busy against your heat.

Straightening up to take another look at your mouth, he was lucky to catch another wink from you as you pulled off to stroke him with your hand. Sliding his long fingers upwards until they cradled your head, he rolled it around, running his fingers through your scalp and enjoying the sighs being emitted. “Quite the little worker, aren’t you? Enjoying yourself?” he inquired with inaudible moans.

Hush–hush muttering evaded your lips as you were confused between which to focus on, his fingers in your hair, the hand around his length or the ludicrous sensation of Finarfin’s mouth engulfing your entire clit and turning the nub into a pacifier. Trembling and bucking away from the stimulation, you were still entrapped in Fingolfin’s hold, unable to move an inch away from the onslaughter. Even he was laughing at the crooked position your body fell into in the attempt to shut your legs and curl away. Luckily Finarfin’s hands perched on your thighs were also immobilising you.

“Trying to run away so soon Y/N? I thought you wanted this?” Fingolfin teased and leaned down to nudge your head upwards to meet his lips for a sweet and daring kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. Lips moving out of sync, it was easy for him to still manage to capture your lips and pry them open to slip a tongue in and take your breath away. Suddenly, you felt the inclusion of his hands around your neck, lightly squeezing the sides to make your head spin.

The combination left you intoxicated as his mouth feverishly worked against yours with the same motion of his brother’s mouth on your cunt. In sync like there was some mental link shared, they kissed your lips with passion that left you in a daze. Light squeezed placed on your neck for every whine you made, Finarfin on the opposite end was rewarded with the tension of your walls around his tongue. He couldn’t wait to feel it on his cock soon.

“Please, please, please,” you chanted breaking away from his lip and curling your toes into the pleasure as it built and Finarfin’s mouth refused to stop. “Don’t s–…stop!”

Chuckling against your clit at your begs, he saw no need to refuse your wishes when you eagerly displayed wanting more. Hands digging into your flesh, he pulled you back to rest atop his face without care for his livelihood. He would enjoy nothing better than being suffocated as you came on his face and flooded his mouth with your arousal, which was the endpoint he was attempting to achieve with the feverish motions of his mouth. Suckling away as though he wanted to milk everything out of you, he gave you no moment to recuperate as you twisted and turned against his mouth.

“A–…Ara, f…uck!” stammering away, no longer were your hand gripping Fingolfin’s cock but focused on tearing the bedsheets apart, your back arched and pushed you into his mouth more. “Right there…right—ach!”

The waves of vibration crashing into your body at the speed of light were immeasurable and even so, unspeakable. Your grips against the bed sheet left a loud shred, gone unheard and unnoticed by everyone who were focusing on your body curling into itself. If you could have given a medallion to Finarfin for his enthusiasm you would because he didn’t seem to understand your hypersensitivity the way his mouth refused to take a break from your cunt. Even with his tongue taking leisurely strolls through your fold to collect any arousal, he was hungry with the gesture. Pushing your hands behind you to nudge his head away was the only route to get him to stop.

“Ah,” he sweetly charmed, unphased by the damage caused. “Forgive me, I got a little carried away.” Mouth and cheeks glossed with your arousal, he wore it like a lipstick and treated it like his drug.

“Carried away is too simple of a term brother,” added Fingolfin as he released you and placed his attention on the youngest. “I would say, fascinated or purposefully not wanting to stop.”

Sharing a brotherly moment, laughing away at the mess they turned you into while you lay drenched in sweat on the bed, they also exchanged their following advances. Gentle muttering filled the air with explanations of how they were going to handle you now that the main course was ready to be indulged. While they held their private meeting, you could sense the wandering hands of the obvious, squeezing and massaging the flesh on your thighs and ass. Almost with a child–like wonder, light slaps came down to meet your ass and paused to admire the jiggle. You had no intention of lifting your head to take a peek at the ethereal figure and mischievous devil deciding who would go first or at the same time. All you wanted to do was feel something in you other than Finarfin’s tongue for a while.

“How long though?” Fingolfin’s voice sliced through the air, disrupting the ambience.

“What do you mean, “How long”? We broke classes, there’s no returning,” clarified Finarfin nonchalantly as he rubbed his palm over your ass and gave it squeezes like an orange. He couldn’t help but bite his lips at the gesture, appreciating the sight and gift of being given the opportunity.

“Speak for yourself, brother—”

“Well if you’re so terrified of Lady Ancalmaril and father, return and leave Y/N and I to our fun. Your inconsequential abilities would not be judged, brother…” With his voice dripping with nihilism, Finarfin didn’t stop to throw an egotistical grin at his elder before continuing, “Or you can stay and enjoy the once–in–a–ifetime opportunity to share Y/N with me!”

Scoffing at the absurdity his brother was spouting, he challenged, “Once in a lifetime? What makes you believe there would not be an opportunity spent between Y/N, privately?”

“The fact that you aren’t an excellent dancer and would prefer to run back to our instructor to perfect your moves, tells me that this might be once in a lifetime. Unless…” Finarfin goaded, grinning nihilistic and darting his eyes towards your body, travelling over every curve until he met your eyes that lacked fear, but interest.  

Easily falling for the bait like he did with every argument between him and Feanor, Fingolfin inched forward with his chin raised high and accepted. “Accepted.”

“Splendid!” With his hands clasped before him, Finarfin grinned triumphantly from ear–to–ear and refocused his gaze on you. “The plans have changed due to my brother’s fear of poor performance…and being caught. So now, we have an ongoing competition to decide who’s the more skilful dancer of the two. Would you be so kind to judge us as we take turns?”

Eyes widening at the declaration, unexpectedly, this was the last thing you assumed the outcome of their argument would land you in. “Um, I thought I was taking you both,” your voice dipped and became softer under the enigmatic stare of Finarfin, “at the same time.” Ending your statement, you turned to gaze at Fingolfin who whipped his head to meet your pensive stare and offer a heartwarming smile. His hand reached out to stroke your head, reassuring you that all was well.

“Err,” hissing at the suggestion, from the very start Ara knew that he and his brother wouldn’t be able to share you at the same time given their nature. Already having decided that they would have taken turns, just not with this intention. “Apologies if you had assumed that, but, um…háno and I weren’t originally intending to have you at the same time,” he awkwardly laughed and itched the back of his head.

“Consider it as two extremely different dominant males wanting to share. Yes, I know,” winced Fingolfin, “it’s not the best comparison, but it’s sort of the situation between us. Uncooperative.”

Falling into a seated position, you tucked your legs under and faced perpendicular to both males. “So you two would fight over who gets to…I see. But can you at least try at the same time…for me. I’d be able to judge better, and should it not work out, we can always go again but according to your wishes.”

Finarfin was the first to open his mouth and snap his eyes to his elder for confirmation. Throwing in an uneasy itch to his forehead, he bared his teeth in a cumbersome manner at Fingolfin for him to hurry up with a solution, knowing that the decision was being made according to his taste in intimacy. “Brother.”

For a moment Fingolfin had shut his eyes to concentrate on the words being directed to him and the possible outcome of the situation. Tongue kissing his teeth, he glanced at you first and then back to his brother with an expressive sigh. “As much as I hate the idea of stepping out of my comfort zone, if weren’t going to be judged fairly, might as well take the risk of playing dirty,” he announced, shuffling off the bed and coming to stand at the foot. “I’ll take the end; you take the lead since the bet was yours.”

“Are you—Are you sure about this?” Finarfin whispered as he stepped closer to his brother, shorter by only an inch or two yet equally defined in nature to match the robustness of the elder. “You’ve once expressed your unappealing interest in—”

“Relax,” ushered Fingolfin with a hand to his brother’s arm. “Our focus is this competition, or I’ll be sent back to Lady Ancalmaril for practice. Now take your position or I start without you.”

Accepting his words as a challenge, the fire within his heart was set ablaze and the dedication known within the House of Finwe was pronounced. Smirking at his encouragement, Finarfin turned to shuffle onto the bed and informed you to clamber atop him as he moved to lie on his back. Immediately, his arms encircled your waist and adjusted your legs on either side of his body to his liking. You now sat directly upon his cock, pressing and leaking against your cunt and mixing with your arousal which made him shudder at the sight. Thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your thighs, he flashes his signature smile before reaching down to pull you into a breathtaking kiss.

His lips enthusiastically met yours and sucked you into a deep spell to distract you from the intrusion of something wet being rubbed around your ass. As much as you tried to break the kiss to witness what was happening back there, he kept your head within his hands and lips locked against his so he could slip his tongue in. It was no joke that both brothers were excellent kissers, sucking the air out of your lungs like there was no tomorrow. His kiss was feverish and worked in tune with the frantic motion of his hands running along your spine, arching your breasts into his chest to feel the wonderfulness of your hardened nipples against his cool skin.

Unexpectedly, the minute Finarfin pulled away to break the kiss and travelled to your neck, the intrusion of something sharp with a slight burn happened. You didn’t expect it to feel like you were being split in half, but when you remember what his cock looked and felt like, it all made sense to feel that way. Your breath was caught in your throat the more he slid in, pushing inches of him deeper until he came to an abrupt stop, and you felt a hand gripping you by the throat and yanking you out of Finarfin’s grasp to meet his rock–hard chest. The look of annoyance on his brother’s face was priceless as he visibly sagged.

“I need you to breath for me, Y/N,” he panted laboriously into your ear. “You’re squeezing me here…”

You didn’t expect him to moan so sinfully into your ear, wet lips touching the shell and breathing against it. His hand remained firmly around your neck, giving a gentle squeeze as he waited for you to relax. “Come on love, breath for me. Just like that…good girl,” he commended before easing the rest of the way in until he bottomed out. “You’re doing so well for me.”

Kissing the shell of your ear as he remained still, his lips ran along the length of your neck until he came to the same spot where Finarfin was about to kiss.

“What a killjoy you are, indeed, brother,” Finarfin snapped, clearly irritated and ready to snatch you out of his brother’s hold. “Lift her a bit, please.”

Following the order, Finarfin was able to cease the moment he had been waiting for from the very start of the day and run the tip of his cock through your folds before he was wrapped around your warmth. Golden curls haphazardly lying across the bed, he looked like he was transcended into heaven at the enclosure of your warmth and tightness, even the slight texture of his brother’s cock through the thin barrier added stimulation, but none topped your grip. You were holding to him for dear life as though he would slip out and the fingers digging into your hips were evidence.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Eru, Y/N! What the hell are you doing to me?!” he shouted with the feeling of his head being squeezed with every passing second. The sounds of his pathetic whines could compete with yours the longer he remained buried in you unmoving. The pressure was immeasurable, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to hold out as planned to demonstrate his skills and take the win, but he was damn sure he wasn’t going down with making a move.

The paralysing sensation of being trapped in Fingolfin’s sturdy arms while he was panting against your neck as his brother breached and the sudden tightness escalated was hot. You didn’t know a man could sound so sexy when he struggled to compose himself due to the overwhelming pressure. Loving the feel of what your body could do, through the feeling of being stuffed, you managed to clench your muscles for playful intentions and clamped them even tighter than they could imagine. It was then you discovered your playtime was over and you were now in their playing field.

The hand around your neck tightened and a firm tug was given, “You thought that was funny, didn’t you?” he groaned and began gyrating his hips to open you up some more. “You enjoy laughing at us a lot and goading…I would like to see you do that when we’re through with you.”

It was as though a snap was heard at the sound of his words before you were pushed into Finarfin’s hold, still held onto and balancing on your hands, as the sensation of their cocks moving at the same pace occurred. You didn’t understand what was happening at first as the first slide of their robust cock moved in sync, slowly, to induce your cries. Your body trembled and pushed into the motion, wanting more when you could only take so little. Their weight and length combined were too much for your insides to take, but your mind was goading you into being delusional about taking more than you could handle.

The sensation was rippling across your body when they switched up their pace, Fingolfin and Finarfin out, pounding away at your insides and rearranging what little of you was left. You didn’t know if they were attempting to get you under their control, but there wasn’t the need for such dedication when you already were from the first slide in. Your insides were crying from the frantic and fervent thrusting they each delivered, each carrying its own signature. Fingolfin had the power to knock the very wind out of your chest while Finarfin had technique as his gifted curvature of a cock was able to reach that one spot and make you see stars within the first few thrusts.

Scrambling to grip the bedsheets beside his head, careful not to tug on his curls, your back was painfully being arched to properly meet the powerful and sturdy thrusts of the ebony–haired God from behind. His cock bullied your insides, sliding in and out gracefully alongside his devoted brother who made use of your well–formed position to purposefully make you fold into his arms.

“Are you laughing now, Y/N?” the ebony–haired elf behind you asked, fingers curling around your neck to experience your walls squeezing him and his brother so perfectly. “Come on love, make a little sound.”

Heading you with his self–confident grin, the last look you would expect to witness on his face as he enjoyed the sensation of finally being able to shut you up. Much to your wishes, you truly couldn’t say much from all the differences you were experiencing at the same time. Were you supposed to bark, scream, howl, mewl, meow? You didn’t know what sound to make but it surely wasn’t laughter.

Impatient at the length of time you were taking to respond, Fingolfin tugged your head backwards to meet his darkened eyes and ignored the discomforting arch he placed you in. Leaning in to ghost his lips over yours, he irritated, “You have something you want to tell us, darling? Just a little sound, a laugh perhaps, princess.”

At the end of his words there was a dark chuckle falling from the lips of another you wouldn’t expect it from. The sensation of his teasing hands sliding off your waistline and rushing between your bodies latched onto your clit and rolling it between his fingers, earned them the songs they wanted. “That’s more like it,” he praised and continued twirling it around, marvelling at the jolts in your body. “If we’re going to be performing our best, you should give us your best screams.”

Your lungs felt like they were ready to give out from the laborious panting. Your chest heaved like you were catch in a fight for your life. Two ferocious males trapped in your garden of Eden and doing their best to make paradise. Whimpering out his name as he chastised you, your eyes crossed at the random switch up of their dynamics. “Ñ-Ñolo, too d–deep. Slo–...Slow down ughhh!”

It was all fun and games for them as they pushed and pulled against your muscles, loving the natural stimulation your body provided to them whenever they applied pressure the right way. A clench around their cock here and there and the beautiful sight of your lips gripping their cock, never wanting them to leave. To put the cream atop their cake, you ensured that every time Finarfin entered and left, you smeared your cream around his cock, a sight that became visible to his brother and left him eager to make his cock appear the same with his cum.

The turbulent tugging of their cock abusing your insides, battering against your sweet spot and moulding your insides to remember their shape was knocking you off your feet. Your head was swimming in the pool of ecstasy and feeling dumbfounded by their cocks. Such weight and robustness, placing more pressure on the inner walls led them to be held in such vice grips, almost inescapable. For a moment, they could have swore they were being sucked in on their own without making a single thrust. Just the marvelous beauty of what you were capable of—the perfect reason to keep wanting more. Your essence was a drug they got hooked on the deeper they travelled.

You couldn’t believe that you had managed to have two Princes wrapped around your finger like this, desperate to prove who was the best fuck. It was even fortunate to learn that you hadn’t a clue who would win when all you were focused on was the need to cum. Your fingers curling into the sheets, tugging aggressively and adding smaller fissures into the tears already left was noticed by Finarfin. His blue eyes twinkled at the sight of the sheet being torn and laughed at your intensity. When he assumed he was being too much, here you were, demolishing the palace property.

“You’re so needy, Y/N,” he commented. “Look at how desperately you’re behaving over our cocks. Is that any way for a Lady to behave?”

“S–Shut up—ah!” Your eyes rolling into your head at the sudden pinch to your clit was a silent warning to be nice. Following the actions of his brother, Fingolfin dipped his head to your spine and left a trail of kisses along your sweaty skin and mutely laughed at your squirming. Yet, he refused to stop when he enjoyed your reactions. “Too much, Ñolo!”

“Too much? I thought you wanted the both of us, love.” Reaching his other hand afront to grope at your breast and tweak your nipples, he pretended to act innocent as he repeated the same thing to the other side. “Is this too much, or do you want more?” Whining as he pinched and tugged at your nipples, rolling the buds around his fingers, it didn’t help when Finarfin stretched his neck to latch his mouth to the free nipple and gave a harsh suck.

“Ah, fuck, fuck! Come on, come on, come on—ngghh!” You tossed your head backwards and knocked it against Fingolfin’s shoulder at the relentless onslaughter you chose to suffer. Eru. This was a mixture between a massacre and paradise. The urge to push them away but pull them closer was confusing when the pleasure was beyond breathtakingly euphoric. You were being tormented and pleasured at the same time.

Swirling his tongue around your nipple, Finarfin was having a ball of a time driving you insane alongside his brother. Biting and flicking the nub, he moved in sync with his fingers as they rubbed at your bundle of nerves, desperately, to get you off. Both he and Fingolfin could already sense it, your high was close to the increase in your moans and the incomprehensible nonsense you were muttering. Nothing that tumbled from your lips was their tongue or any tongue for a matter of fact. They couldn’t tell if you were here among them or elsewhere, all they knew was that you were close and ready to wrap them in an infinite warmth they couldn’t find anywhere else.

Holding onto you as the pressure increased and your pitch grew, your hands flew from the bedsheets to latch onto Fingolfin’s hair, giving his firm tugs. With immediate response, he removed his hand around your neck and rushed to cup your lower abdomen, pressing his hand against the protruding bump and adding stimulation to your sweet spot.

“Ooooh! Fuck! Right thereee—” whining at the additional touch of stimulation, your body bowed into his chest and away from Finarfin’s lips as a wave of pleasure manifested and rocked your body violently, sending you into another realm and back with a blank expression.

Your body lulled in his arms while still being pleasured by them, though, had it not been for the out–of–body experience, the sounds of groaning being emitted from Finarfin first would not have reached your ears. His hips twitched and spasmed, hands gripping his hips leaving indents of his position as he felt the heat that was pooling in his stomach becoming unbearable. It wasn’t much he could do to hold out before the stillness of his hips and head being flung into the depths of the mattress as he released a mellow groan at the flooding of his cum in your walls. Aware of the aftermath of both you and his brother, Fingolfin took it upon himself to gently withdraw his cock from your body whilst keeping your body within his hold and jerking himself to finish. He wasn’t far behind his brother, only the motion of a few fancy flicks of his wrists and firm squeezes to the base of his cock before a deeper grunt was emitted and the clear signs of his cum sprayed across the base of your spine and your ass.

Allowing you to fall atop Finarfin, Fingolfin was quick to throw his body next to you two as he found himself feeling slightly energetic instead of weary. Glancing over to catch sight of you two, he caught your eyes giving him a hazy look and a lopsided grin while Finarfin was staring at the canopy, out of it. The silent ambience washed over your three, already forgetting that an hour had more than passed and you three were in for it whenever you returned.

A lazy hand from Fingolfin joined his brother’s and rubbed your back in a soothing circle, basking in the aftermath of your bliss. Though he was the first to break the comforting silence. “How are you feeling?”

Your lips stretched into a Cheshire grin, prompting you to lift your head off Finarfin’s chest and laugh. “Honestly, it was better than expected,” you started, watching the brothers’ faces lift into pleased smiles at your compliment, “but I believe I still have enough energy for another round.”

Finarfin’s face was the first to fall into a knowing expression. “Couldn’t choose a winner?”

“Maybe,” you mused and rolled off Finarfin to lie in the middle of both brothers. “But as far as I’m aware, I can’t get enough of either of you.”

Face morphing into a smug expression, Fingolfin bit his lips at the idea of spending more time than he originally planned, to prove himself skilled. “Well, I can’t complain about this route, at least I’ll be showing off my dancing skills I’ll be demonstrating again for the ball.”

“Who knows, perhaps another dance like this might occur on the night. I say let us spend the rest of the day practising,” suggested the Finarfin, rotating his body to inch closer to yours and already placing a hand on your thigh.

“Splendid idea. Let us not waste a second then.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @lilmelily @koyunsoncizeri @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @the-phantom-of-arda @wandererindreams @singleteapot @justjane @justellie17 @silverose365 @bunson-burner @ilu-stripes @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

omg omg cute little fic about ville meeting stunt girl on the jackass set and both of them just become blubbering messes infront of each other!! But they’re trying to play it so cool infront of all the guys :3 LOVE UR WRITING!!

Diametric Bonds

Ville’s in town on tour and decides to make a visit to the set his friend’s filming in, only to meet a woman who absloutely captivates him.

Ville Valo X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

1.8k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, crude language, teasing, tension, flirting, nervousness, anal

An: Thank you so much for the request! I find I write best for stuntgirl!Y/N by think of how I would react in these scenarios XD I was inspired by one of my friends mention that she thought Ville was friends with Bam because he was so different from him, and that led to the whole opposites attract aspect of this fic! Anyways, thank you for reading, and please keep sending requests!

“It’s rather…bondage-y, no?” Ville ran his thumbs up and down the shoulder straps of the shiny new torture device Bam was fitted with after that nollie frontside 180 landed him in the hospital last week. He groaned, slumping the best the harness would allow him to, “Dude- this shit is so lame ass. They got me in this, like- grandpa back brace, and I can’t even skate for two weeks! This is such bullshit…” A thin smile spread across his lips in response to the whining. Despite his bitchiness, Bam was a fun guy to be around, and Ville enjoyed the excitement. You, on the other hand, had grown close to Bam because you had common interests. Since you could half competently stand on a board, you were called in to do some of the skating stunts while he healed up. Over that time, you’d gotten pretty close, which explains why you barged into his trailer.

“Hey, Bam! D’ya wanna- woah…” The stranger standing in his trailer was pretty- too pretty. Covered in grime from whatever you’d just gotten back from filming. you only wanted to grab Bam’s Vicodin for him before Steve-O nabbed it. That is when you stumbled upon the Interview With a Vampire looking piece of chiseled marble that was Ville. “Oh shit- hey!” Still shirtless, Bam threw an arm around you and introduced you the way a proud parent would show off their honor roll kid, “Ville, this here’s Y/N! She’s the raddest chick I've ever met.” Grinning, Bam ruffled your hair, “Taught this little hessian everything she knows!” Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at the sheer quantity of undue credit he was giving himself, but besides the extent of his bullshittng, you kept your mouth shut like a nice friend. Clearly Bam wanted to make himself look good in front of this guy…

Ville extended a pale hand out to you, which you shook. The words fell out of your mouth, “You’ve got soft hands.” He was all gentle touches, nothing like the high fives and pats on the back from the roughed up palms of your crew mates you were used to. That didn’t make it sound any less weird. Lips curling into a confused smile, he replied, “Oh, thank you, my dear…” Feeling the nagging need for clarity, you hurriedly added, “In a good way. I like ‘em!” Bam gaped like a stunned trout at your social bungling.

Politely excusing himself, Bam wadded up a handful of your tank top and yanked you outside the trailer, fumbling with the door. “What the fuck was that?!” Speaking through his teeth, he turned around and exaggeratedly gestured in the air, “‘You’ve got soft hands’- Who says that?” Stammering, you instinctively mirrored his flailing, “I don’t know! How the fuck should I know- I just said it!” You would’ve thought you had dropped your pants in front of the guy and told him to take you now with how Bam was reacting. “You don’t- that’s Ville fucking Valo!” “Who the hell is Ville Valo?”

Squawking the way a pair of old crones might, the two of you were too distracted to notice that the door never managed to get closed- in fact, the thing was wide open when Ville leaned out, listening with wry interest.

You would come to find out that he was on set because his band was touring, and apparently Ville is that cool, Finnish rockstar friend of Bam’s. This was a surprise, as you always assumed he was George Glassing you with that…He just sort of hung around idly, never really engaging. Standing off to one side, Ville would have looked more at home in some gothic Victorian courtyard with purple roses or some shit. Not sitting on a cheap lawn chair next to a cooler, moreso considering the fact that, mere feet away, Steve was showing off this new, inventive way to drink a beer.

“When I stopped by, I didn’t really expect so much, well-“ Cutting him off, Bam interjected, “Butt stuff?” Taking a sip of his beer, Ville shrugged, “Well, I assumed Americans would be more…averse to that sort of thing.” “Nah- nah, they like it. It’s funny!” A cool breeze blew across the hotel rooftop the cast was filming on. Even though you snook a few glances towards him, your attention was pretty squarely on the main event. Most women would be grossed out by this magnitude of anal fascination, but you weren't. However, the fact that you could stand on two feet was only for the fact that you were distracted by the obvious.

Leaning over, he kept his voice quiet as he covertly gestured to you, “That one. Tell me about her.” Taking a frothy swig, Bam didn’t spend too much time on the subject as he didn’t feel any obligation to be your wingman, “I dunno- she’s just…she’s Y/N. Always did her own thing, I guess. She doesn’t get caught up in shit like most chicks do.” Ville had an eye for art, and he found something oddly baroque about that scene in front of him. You were at the center of that landscape. “So,” changing the topic quickly, Bam fiddled with the label on the bottle in his grip, “y’wanna go grab drinks later?” Taking a drag of his cigarette, Ville briefly replied, “Bring your friend.”

It was as if Ville was Bam’s dad and this evening was his plot to introduce him to his new stepmom- at least, that’s how it looked from Bam’s end of the bar. He wasn’t totally third wheeling, but he felt that his rightfully earned attention was being stolen by you, the stuntgirl.

Smiling slyly, there was this understated grace to Ville’s every movement as he took a seat, even as he glanced you up and down, “I enjoy the cheetah print. Very striking.” Smiling, you pretended that you didn’t buy that dress from a secondhand store for tonight, as you didn’t own any nice, going-out clothes. “Aww, thanks! You look good too.” Believe it or not, that awkward compliment was your most bold social acquisition.

The thing that drew you in and pushed you away was that Ville was a civilized human being that didn’t urinate on his buddys’ legs at the bar and smelled like rosewood and Marlboro Lights instead of sweat and weed stink. You didn’t know how to talk to someone who would know sophistication if it hit them over their head. “So…I’ve heard you make music?” Bam cringed at having to witness this but, disarming as always, Ville humored your attempts at conversation.

Later in the evening, he excused himself to have a word with the band in between sets, slipping off to a dark corner of the bar and leaving you and Bam to chat amongst yourselves. “I can’t watch this…” feigning offense, you spat back, “Hey! If you care so much, why don’t you flirt with him instead?” You only said that because you knew it would get under Bam’s skin. Batting your eyelashes, you made kissy noises and mocked him in a high pitched falsetto, “Oh, Ville! Let’s run away to Finland together and suck eachother’s-“

Something caught your ear: this low, velvety murmur. Apparently, since the lead of the band knew who Ville was, they invited him to join them for a song or two. His voice rasped deliciously up your spine, and there was something in the way his eyes never seemed to leave yours that drew you in with this smoldering intensity. Rendered speechless, you smiled to yourself and murmured to nobody in particular, “I know you said he was a good singer, but damn…” Assuming Ville was singing to him, Bam sputtered as he was shaken out of his trance, “‘Pretty good’- this guy’s the best thing to happen to music!”

Whenever you were in proximity to Ville, you felt as if you were some bumbling teenage girl with her totally out of her league crush, unbeknownst to the fact he actually felt the same way with you. Yes you, the one with the cargo shorts, and the blotchy purple knees from too many falls, and the messy head of hair that’s missing a few chunks from when you got caught by the clipper cam. He liked you for the same reasons he liked Bam- you’re excitable and wild and everything Ville was not. As much as you harbored feelings for him, he held the same if not more; the only difference was the obvious gap of ability to conceal them.

He played it cool, but no matter where you were filming, Ville managed to drift over to whatever little corner of the set you were at. Presently, that corner was the medic tent. Somehow, as you sat on that deli paper covered table, caked in sweat and dirt, he found you even more beautiful than he did the previous evening when you were all dressed up. Glancing up from where you were icing a sprained wrist, you caught Ville's gaze just in time to make him stumble over his words. “I, uh- Bam told me you had a ‘gnarly’ injury.” Shaken by the idea he would visit you in the first place, you fought off a grin at how obvious his attempts at using your jargon were.

Clearing his throat, he sounded much more comfortable as he continued, “I stopped by to see if you were alright.” Your sore wrist was at the very background of your mind now; you were more concerned with how close he was to your slumped over body and how the elevation of where you sat forced you to meet his gaze. “Oh, uh- thanks! That’s really sweet…” Surprising only to you, the truth of this dynamic became apparent in the awkward silence that hung between you, either party too timid to say anything. However, there was an odd sort of satisfaction and maybe even comfort in seeing that he was equally as nervous as you.

“Well, if you’re not busy tonight,” breaking the silence, he quickly fished around in his pocket, retrieving two slips of paper, “I’ve got a show in the area. Perhaps Bam would like to come as well?” Chuckling to yourself at the notion that Ville was trying to use your friendship with him to get in your good graces, you responded with unfounded quickness, “Well…I think Bam’s busy. But I’m free…”