#if i did the skin it would be so over . i'm layering the fuck out of that. though obvs for darker skin tones

[moe-broey]

CONGRATS ALFONSE FIRE EMBELM YOU ARE SO EPIC AND SO COOL FOREVER‼️‼️‼️‼️🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉💘💓💝💞💝💗💘💖💘💓💘💖💕💕💞💖💝💖💞💗💖💖💝💕💝💖💝💕💕💝💝

Plus some zoom ins of the most worked on panels, slightly better lighting maybe hopefully 😅

And of course

The micro organism (about a pinky small)

[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀BELLY BULGE ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino x gn reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. unprotected sex. edging. size kink. praise kink. sub reader. belly bulging. creampie. breeding kink. overstimulation. toy usage. mirror sex. #summary : hazbin men fucking so deep to the point where they can see and feel the bulge on your belly from their dick! wow, and it turns them on further!! #note : greetings and salutations everyone! i'm back (kinda) from my long ass close-to-three-months hiatus. i'm so sorry for disappearing so suddenly, and thank you so much for 1k followers while i was gone! have this and a few other upcoming smuts while i figure out on how to finish the alastor fic :').

ʚ LUCIFER .

how many rounds has it been? you honestly lost count. your ability to recall memories from earlier tonight slowly slips out of your grasps with each deep thrust of lucifer's hips. the sole thing you're able to focus your mind on is the sensation that travels throughout your whole body every time he hits that one spot inside of you, the feeling of multiple fire spark burning through your nerves.

his breathing is as ragged as yours, his usual slicked-back hair now messy and sticking to his sweaty forehead. your fingers fist the soft pillow supporting your face on the wide bed that you share, whimpers and cries being the only sounds that pour out of your sore lips. lucifer gives a moderate playful slap onto your bare hip, earning a small whine from you.

"such wonderful sight, look at you." his hand slides from your hip until his thumb reaches to stretch your flesh, revealing white streams of thick liquid rolling down from your pulsing hole to your inner thigh, an evidence of your partner's previous releases filling you up full. he watches the way his seeds spill out with every push of his hips, when his dick takes up the space inside of you instead and forcing the liquid to be squeezed out.

his tongue pokes out to lick his lips, his free hand once again moving forward to wrap its fingers around your neck firmly. with a soft hum, lucifer pulls your upper body up from the previous position, now having your back press against his chest. you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, the faint thumping of his heart through the layers of flesh.

you can barely feel your legs. they had gone numb from how long you've kept them up, the blood flow being reduced and now leaving you with legs that you can barely control by yourself. you gasp at the feeling of lucifer's length reaching deeper inside of you, the tip poking at places that you never knew one could reach inside of you. your hands moved by themselves and held onto whatever that can support your body on this new position, lucifer's ruthless thrust now increasing its pace without mercy.

he keeps a hand wrapped around your neck, holding you still while the other explores your body despite already left countless marks and touch on every inch of your body. your head tilts back to rest on his shoulder, moans and cries never stopped rolling off of your tongue as lucifer whispers sweet nothings into your ear. it was then he felt something he did not feel on your body before this.

curious, his thrusts slows down just a little as his eyes peek from beside your head, his hand caressing the bump that he feels on your stomach. he feels his breath hitch, realizing that the bump would poke out every time he thrusts into you. he feels heat spread all over his body, like he's growing aroused all over again despite the previous releases.

you hear him mutter something along the lines of 'you're so attractive' followed with a few curses. he harshly thrusts into you, digging his hips deep into yours while holding a hand of yours to the same area where your belly would bulge with every thrust. you feel the air of his breath hit your sticky skin as he snickers.

"be good and keep your hand here for me, yeah? we're going for a few more rounds."

ʚ ALASTOR .

"yes, keep going my dear. you're doing great." alastor's clawed fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your hips as you lower yourself further down onto his length. his words may sound like sweet praises, but his tone hides a hint of petty tease while he speaks. such an annoying demon he is, always teasing you by making you work yourself on him just so he could grab every chance possible to run that dirty tongue of his.

you grumble lightly, ignoring the smug look on his face as you pause your actions, earning a confused look from the demon laying below you. he allowed a short staring contest with each other until he got impatient with how badly he needs to feel your walls pulse around him. he mutters something incomprehensible, tightening his grip on you and forcibly push you down without warning to take in every single inch he has to offer.

your breath catches in your throat almost instantly, eyes widening in surprise and gradually rolling to the back of your head. alastor has an advantage, and he knows just how to use it in his favor. he chuckles at the sight displayed in front of him; you, the same person who had just tried to tick him off earlier now struggling to adjust to the size of his dick stretching you apart.

of course, he knew this is exactly how you liked him to play even though you never directly expressed it.

alastor completely retracts almost all of his length, leaving just the tip nestled in the warmth of your walls and watches you clench around nothing as if you're asking for him to fill you up again. your teary eyes glance down at him, unhappy at the fact that he's still playing tricks on you before letting him draw a loud moan from you with a sudden thrust of his hips.

your arms reach out to catch your body from the back, body leaning back. you struggle to keep yourself upright while riding him, your legs giving out easily as per usual. your hips rock along with his, your sweet spot constantly being stimulated because of how perfect this angle of position is.

alastor savors every reaction and sounds from you, his eyes twitching ever so often from how well you squeeze around him. the bulge on you belly catches his eye; his pupils shake with excitement, muscles pulsing at the delicious sight of the bulge disappearing and reappearing. his mind grows fuzzy from the strange enjoyment he never knew he had for things like this.

"ah, fuck." a clearly audible groan slips past his lips, his hips involuntarily buckles up as ropes of hot release paints your inner walls. his static voice seems to crackle slightly when he cursed which indicates that he feels good. really good. your heart jumps with excitement yet your body crumbles, the coil in your stomach snaps quickly after alastor's, pushing you into a moaning mess.

oxygen seems to have escaped his lungs as he pants for air, the back of his hand covering his eyes. the heat on his face is painfully visible even in the dark room you're currently situated in and the blurred vision you have from tears gathering around your eyes. you were about to move and cup his face to adore his blushing look before his voice rang through your ears, stopping you.

"ah ah, stay there now. keep putting on a pretty show for me. i'm still up for more of it, you see."

ʚ VOX .

"isn't the mirror perfect? my eyes never miss." vox laughs at his own playful comment yet his lustful eyes never left your reflection in the mirror. you advert your gaze from his hungry ones, unable to even properly look at yourself in the mirror without getting all flustered again. the clothes currently hugging your body is a sensual outfit that vox had specifically tailored for you, with the perfect size and design to his liking. anyone would be lying if they said you don't look luscious for eyes to feast on.

of course his comment wouldn't be on the mirror alone, it was mostly towards the outfit you're wearing. he hums, pulling your body closer to his till you're both tangled together in front of the big mirror, your back stuck to his chest. his lips sucks on the sensitive skin on your neck, kiss marks blooming all over like flowers during the spring season. hell, even the noises you make sound extra alluring tonight.

vox's hand slide down your body and presses firmly on your stomach, drinking in your whines as he presses on something bulging. bullseye. he recently discovered that you especially love it when he does this, and it also arouses him a ton.

"mm. you like that? wanna feel my dick from here while i fuck ya?"

a hard exhale leaves your lips as you nod, intertwining your fingers with his and allowing him to have total control over your body. he chuckles at the tightened walls around him before rocking his hips. moans spill out of your lips as he guides your hand to press against your stomach, making you feel just how deep he's going.

"eyes on the mirror, baby." you do your best to lift your eyelids and slide your gaze onto the big mirror set in front of you; vox's eyes glow like a hunter looking at its prey in the reflection, peering from your shoulder.

you question if it was the right choice to drag your lover out from the office he's always holed up in to shop at multiple stores today. he was reluctant at first, making up different excuses to stay in his office. 'i could just have them deliver to our doorstep, baby! we're rich as fuck, remember?' or 'another day, let me stay in today.'

if it wasn't because of how stubborn you were to drag him out even for a small walk, he wouldn't have agreed to go out with you and got a ton of stuff, including this mirror that's sitting by the wall, in front of the bed.

you feel immense embarrassment burning all over your skin from how you're completely displayed in the reflection for the both of you to see, yet your eyes lock with the demon's through the mirror. his smile is brutal. "there we go, now don't look away."

his merciless thrusts brought more blood rushing to your face along with shameless moans from you, followed by grunts that's audible to you from vox. your legs tremble, threatening to give out and the loud sounds of skin slapping gradually fills your head, cutting out the ability to comprehend anything in you.

your gaze fixates on the belly bulge that's painfully visible in the reflection, the sight only tightening the sweet coil hidden in your stomach. the demon groans at you squeezing around his length, knowing that you're enjoying this as much as he currently is brought him dangerously close to the edge. it wasn't long until the both you reach peak, vox pulling out just in time to witness the beautiful sight of his seed staining your inner thighs.

one thing's for sure, he definitely loves going on shopping sprees with you from now on.

ʚ VALENTINO .

work pissed him off. valentino always had a very short temper and gets ticked off by the smallest things at work the moment it doesn't goes the way he wants them to. and the easiest way for him to cool off? it'll either be a good smoke or dragging you to somewhere less busy for a quickie. perhaps both works as well, if he wishes for it.

your body presses up against the cold, hard wall as his breath tickles the back of your ear, his slippery tongue sliding and flicking around damping your earlobe. his actions are quick and rushed, yet somehow careful with everything he does to you by not going too rough on you.

his lower pair of arms slightly fumbles while undressing your lower body from how narrow the space is. you wanted to ask why didn't he choose somewhere with more space, but words stopped right on your tongue when he suddenly inserted his full length into you. you cursed and press your forehead against the wall hard, a strange mixture of pain and pleasure blooms in your stomach while struggling to breathe, adjusting to his size.

"relax a bit carino, you're gonna squeeze my dick off if you don't."

"doesn't help, val. that- fuck w-wait," valentino doesn't allow you to finish your complain, cutting you off with a rough thrust. your words turn into whines, nails digging into his arms that are wrapped around your trembling body. he carried on teasing you with irregular thrusts before pulling out fully, a mysteriously playful chuckle bubbling from his chest. you glance at him with a confused expression.

it wasn't long until you hear a familiar buzzing sound of a vibrator. he barely gave you enough time to process the information and question him, inserting the small toy deep inside of you. you gasp; the weird feeling of something vibrating inside of you made it hard for you to understand what to feel. it felt so weird to the point where it's pleasurable, something so unfamiliar yet a turn on.

"what the fuck are you- hey! that shit's still inside- val!" moans slip in between your words as valentino's length replaced his slender fingers inside of you, the tip pushing the vibrating toy deeper into your pulsing walls. choked moans are let out from your throat, the brimming tears spill from your eyes and down to your cheeks.

valentino pushes both of his fingers that were used to insert the toy into your mouth, muttering praises as you instinctively lick and suck on them. your tongue slips in between and around his fingers, coating it with your saliva while some spills out from the corner of your lips and rolls off of your chin.

he shows no mercy with his ruthless thrusts, the toy growing a weird pleasure in your stomach by hitting the perfect areas inside of you. with how deep it is, your belly bulges with every rough thrust of the demon. val whistles the moment he notices it, his gaze now only fixates on your stomach from above, admiring the bulge as his thrusts only grew harsher.

hell, even the size of his dick seems to be growing bigger while your velvet walls remained engulfing it. any thoughts regarding his work are now clouded and replaced with lust, yearning for more of you.

"know what? go on and cum for me, amor. we'll take this to the bedroom then."

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[churipu]

BEAUTIFUL FEATURES 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. cursing on gojo :)

note. while i'm working on chapter 5 of my killswitch lullaby series, i'm gonna upload something because i just got home from a get together with my big family, and part 5 of killswitch lullaby is still halfway done :(

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

"you have freckles."

averting your eyes to gojo through the mirror in the bathroom, you nodded, "mhm, they've always been there," it's not like you've made them noticeable — so the reaction was expected, you never really liked them.

"why did i just notice them?" he asks, leaning his shoulder onto the doorway, "i mean — they look really pretty y/n."

pretty didn't sit well with you, especially not when you grow up hating that certain feature. chuckling out softly, you raised a brow, "they're not pretty, they're weird, 'toru."

the male blinks, "who said that?"

"everyone else but you—" he scoffs, throwing his face to the side with a lop-sided smirk, "what? why are you laughing?"

gojo shakes his head in denial, "fuck what they think — i think they're pretty, and they suit you. why would you hide it?" the blue eyed male watches your every move as your fingers pressed on the skin colored cushion onto your skin, sealing away the beautiful dots gracing across your cheeks.

"because i feel better without them." you nonchalantly answered, patting the cushion a few times to flatten the foundation. your freckles immediately drowned under it, disappearing from sight.

gojo was silent, his face was indescribable — and you don't know what he had in mind next. frankly, he's a little angry. not at you, anyone but you. the male then stepped towards you, throwing an arm around your waist, "can i ruin your make up just the slightest bit . . ?"

"yes, but 'm not going to talk to you for the rest of the day . . . or two."

the blue eyed male chuckled, but he wasted no time wrapping his slender fingers around your wrist, peppering gentle kisses across your cheeks, right over the semi-wet foundation — leaving traces of his lips on your face. gojo didn't even care about the sticky substance graved on his lips.

pulling back, he seemed satisfied at his work of art. your make up ruined almost completely as your foundation was smeared away, the smooth layer now barely even there at all, and all was left was trails of his kisses over your sun kissed freckles.

"you're so beautiful, i'd kiss you right now — but i wouldn't want to get foundation in your mouth," he whispers, instead of leaning into your lips, he pressed his foundation laced lips along your forehead, engraving his lips on your skin.

"you're so cheesy—"

"way to ruin the moment, y/n. really great! you're lucky i love you," he grazed his thumb over his art, wiping away your foundation, "i love you and everything about you."

smiling lightly, you nod, "i love you too."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

nanami traced his finger on your skin behind your ear, the tip of his finger grazing over the same spot again and again. his eyebrows furrowed the slightest bit, "what happened here?"

you glanced at him, "hm? what happened where?" the male didn't answer, but his finger traced your skin — specifically, where your birth mark laid. and he blinked slowly, "oh, i forgot about that. nothing happened there, 'ts my birth mark."

the male nods his head. his eyes never leaving the darker spot behind your ear, "i never knew you had one . . ." he mumbles out, a little upset he's never noticed such a beautiful feature on you through out the time he has been with you.

"i didn't want you to," you replied back.

nanami retracted his hand back, "are there any reasons why?"

craning your neck to face him, your e/c eyes averted around the room. anywhere but right at his eyes, "um . . . i don't think that my birth mark is an important feature, you know where i'm coming from?"

nanami in fact didn't, "unfortunately, not."

"i just don't think it's nice to look at," you tell him the truth, chuckling, "but i actually forgot that i had that behind my ear for a bit."

once again, his fingers flew to trace your birth mark, admiring it silently. strands of your hair gets tangled in between his fingers at the action, but the male wasn't pulling on it, "it's beautiful. you're beautiful."

"think so?" you asked.

nanami didn't answer you, but his hand cupped your face gently, pulling you close and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. it was a short kiss, but it was full of admiration and love, "i do. i mean it," he states out, gazing into your eyes.

"i love you, ken. you know that, right?"

"i love you more, y/n. you know that, right?"

𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

you'd think that your boyfriend wouldn't notice the way you strain back your smile from engulfing your face? frankly, thinking megumi wouldn't notice was something stupid — megumi notices everything, especially things about you. his partner.

"why do you do that?" he questions, leaning back onto the wall.

raising a brow at him in confusion, you replied back, "do what?"

"straining back your smile — why don't you just . . . smile?" his voice was quiet, but there was something behind it. not anger, not disappointment; megumi was just confused, was it something that he should be concerned about?

even if it wasn't, he is already concerned.

his question left your mind a little hazed, wondering if you should tell him the truth or just lie your way out of this. but (thankfully), you ended up with the first choice, "i didn't want to deepen my smile lines, they look weird."

now it was megumi's mind swirling with different questions, "smile lines? why— what? what?" he mutters under his breath — mind a little disintegrated.

"it leaves a mark behind, i don't like it—"

"you look fine." he cuts you off, "you have a nice smile, don't hold it back."

coming from someone like megumi, you thought it might have been the greatest compliment you have ever gotten the whole entire year. the first genuine smile popped out on your face after a bit, the apple of your cheeks rounding as you beam out at the male in delight, "really? you mean that?"

megumi sighs, nodding, "really."

"that means a lot to me, gumi. thank you," the male blinked — he wasn't sure what had gotten you so happy, surely it wasn't his compliment, is it?

it is, "yeah."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[p3achfilm]

𝒮𝒰𝒢𝒜𝑅. eren.

𝒞𝒲: nsfw thick! reader, in which you’re insecure so eren eats your pussy against the wall. minors dni. third person.

she detested summer. the oppressive heat that clung to her skin, the relentless buzzing of insects, and the suffocating air made her long for the cool, crisp days of fall. but most of all she hated how she was unable to hide under layers of clothing. "ugh." russet eyes bore into the body length mirror, indifferent to the person that stared back. full lips pulled into a pout as she smoothed her hands over her wide hips, unsatisfied with the way her stomach spilled over the side of the denim. another curse from her lips, fingers looped in the belt holes as she jumped up and down in the jeans. her thighs rubbed together, the fabric stretching to its limits. it was the loosest pair that she owned and they were still snug. the young woman stopped her efforts with a defeated sigh. she had already tried sucking her gut in and jumping time and time again. yet, they would not give. the button was barely able to stay connected, the zipper stuck in one spot. if she sat down in them it would probably take a crowbar to get her back out.

she glanced over at her bed, taking in the discarded piles of jeans and skirts. all of them had the same problem. nothing seemed to fit her. her mother had always told her that her hips would blossom in her twenties, but the woman never imagined that they would bloom this much.

a sudden knock at her bedroom door interrupted her reverie. the girl turned toward the sound, her hand instinctively resting on her abdomen. she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her as her boyfriend entered the room, engrossed in his phone and unaware of her inner turmoil. "hey, i just got off the phone with the guys, and they want to go out tonight. you in?" eren glanced up from his device, and his expression immediately shifted to one of concern. "baby what's wrong?" he asked, his brows knitting together. he quickly closed the distance between them and enveloped her in his arms, drawing her close.

"nothing," she murmured softly, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her words muffled against his skin. "just feeling a bit under the weather, i suppose." while not entirely untrue, her statement concealed the deeper issue troubling her—her self-image. "you suppose? ⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆, what's really going on?" she gently pulled away, his hands still resting on her arms. her brown cheeks flushed, and she found it difficult to meet his gaze. "my clothes . . . don’t fit me."

her sweet boyfriend was silent for a moment, trying to process her words. she could feel his intruding eyes rake over her, taking in her appearance. truth was, eren had noticed weeks ago how plump his girlfriend now was. all the weight had shifted to her breast and her ass, he fucking loved it. she was always beautiful to him but now? god, he had to fight off an erection each time he laid eyes on her. the way her clothes fit, the way she kept him warm at night, the way her thighs felt around his head while she trimmed his hair. it was all so damn intoxicating.

his rough hands moved down her sides, feeling the soft curves that drove him wild. he loved the way her body felt under his touch, the warmth radiating from her skin. "what are you talking about? you look amazin’. you always do," eren states with a laugh, giving her sides a squeeze. she couldn't believe what she was hearing. did he not see the way her pants were practically ripping at the seams? how they dug into her sides and threatened to break her in half if she moved the wrong way? did he not realize how much bigger her stomach had gotten over the past month? the way it jutted out, pushing the material of her shirt to its limits.

"are you blind?" she cried, the frustration she had been feeling all day finally boiling over. "i'm fat, okay? i'm a huge, fat, disgusting blob. my pants are three sizes too small. and you can't tell me they aren't because i can't even get the damn zipper to zip. i'm a whale." tears pooled in her chestnut colored eyes, her bottom lip quivering. god, she felt pathetic. "babe," eren started, his voice calm. he tried to wipe away her tears with his thumbs, but she quickly pushed him away, his touch making her sick.

"don't," she mumbled. "don't even. just- i can't believe you don't see how big i've gotten. and if you do see it, then you're a liar. and if you're lying, that's just a whole other can of worms. god, i just- i'm not in the mood to go out, alright?" with that she stormed past him and disappeared into her bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

the man was left standing in the shared room, bewildered and at a loss for words. he hadn't been expecting the sudden outburst, especially since she had been acting normally all evening. he didn't understand why she was upset. the sound of the sink turning on snapped him out of his thoughts. he shook his head and headed out of the room, his phone forgotten on the floor.

the cool water did little to soothe her heated cheeks. the girl leaned over the sink, her palms pressing against the marble. her hair fell in dark waves around her, curtaining her face. she could feel her heart pounding against her chest, the blood roaring in her ears. why did she get so mad? her boyfriend didn't deserve the way she had treated him. but his ignorance towards her weight gain had only fueled her anger. she hadn't meant to blow up like that, but his words had cut her deeper than she cared to admit.

after a few moments, the girl finally stood up straight, turning the water off. she stared at herself in the mirror, taking in the puffiness of her eyes and the redness of her cheeks. her lash extensions were wet and clumped together, lip-combo faded. with a heavy sigh, the girl picked up her makeup remover, beginning to fix her face. it wasn't eren’s fault that her clothes didn't fit. he wasn't the one who was eating so much, who had gained so much weight. it was her own fault that she was getting bigger and bigger by the day. a quiet knock at the door disrupted her thoughts. "hey bug, can we talk?" his voice was muffled through the wood.

"no." her voice was barely above a whisper.

"what was that?"

"i said no." she raised her voice, her tone clipped.

"baby, come on, i just want to talk to you."

eren was relieved when the door swung open, revealing his puffy-eyed girlfriend. "eren—" she was cut off as his lips pressed against hers, head leaning to the side as his lips messily moved over her fuller ones. "you're fuckin' perfect to me," he murmured, his voice laced with something she couldn't quite pin down. her throat ached as she resisted the urge to cry at her his reassurance.

eren was by no means a weak man, yet it still took her by surprise when he cupped her thick thighs and wrapped them around his lean waist, breaking the kiss. his hands gripped her flesh firmly, the warmth of his touch seeping through her skin and sending shivers down her spine. his tongue prodded her lips, seeking entrance, and she parted them, allowing him to deepen the kiss. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of passion and tenderness that left her breathless. she could feel the strength in his arms as he held her up, his muscles tensing with the effort. his body pressed against hers, the heat between them growing more intense with every passing second.

her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as their kiss grew more fervent. she could taste the desperation in his kiss, the need to convey just how much he adored her. his lips moved with a fervor that made her head spin, and she couldn't help but melt into him, her body responding to his every touch. "you're crazy," she breathed out, her fingers scratching at his scalp. the man hummed against her lips, his tongue tracing her jawline. "maybe, but i know what i like." his teeth scraped her earlobe, pulling the flesh into his mouth. he could feel her thighs squeeze his waist, a soft moan escaping her. his lips trailed down her neck, leaving wet kisses in their wake. she couldn't help but tilt her head to the side, giving him more access. "eren. . .” his name came out in a low groan.

"mm, i know." he rocked his hips forward, pressing his clothed cock against her throbbing cunt.

the girl pulled him into a deeper kiss, her nails digging into his shoulders. eren's hands kneaded her thighs, squeezing and massaging the thick flesh. she let out a whine when his fingertips dug into her inner thigh, dangerously close to where she wanted him the most. "please," she whispered, her voice breathy. he smirked.

"please what?"

"please touch me."

eren chuckled. he pulled away from her lips, his nose brushing against hers. "but i am touching you," he teased, his fingers squeezing her plush thighs once more. "asshole." she snorts. "you know what i want to hear." he coo’s, "fine." the girl rolled her eyes, her face burning in embarrassment. "eren, please eat my pussy. please. i'm so horny. i need your tongue inside me. i want you to make me cum.”

"that wasn't so hard, was it?"

before she could respond, he was already tugging the denim down her legs and throwing them onto the bathroom floor. his fingers hooking into the cherry printed lace of her underwear, pulling them down. he groaned when her cunt was finally exposed, her juices coating her thick lips. "you're so pretty," he murmurs, green eyes glossy.

once again she’d underestimated eren’s strength as he hoisted her up, confusion riddling her soft features. his inked arms, adorned with intricate designs that told stories of battles and victories, settled her thighs on each shoulder, grounding her. eren was gonna eat his loving girlfriends’ pussy aganist the wall. her stomach churned, raw power in his grip contrasting with the tenderness in his eyes, creating a whirlwind of emotions within her. he pressed her against the cool, unforgiving wall, the rough texture a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from his body. she could feel his breath, hot and ragged, against her as he murmured something indecipherable.

her cunt was inches away from his mouth and he could feel his mouth water. his tongue poked out, gliding along her slit. the girl whimpered above him, her fingers threading through his hair. eren's large hands held her thighs in place as he dove his tongue between her folds, slurping up her sweet nectar. her eyes fluttered shut, her back arching against the wall. her clit throbbed as he sucked the sensitive nub between his lips, his tongue lashing over it. her legs quivered, pleasure coursing through her veins. eren moaned, the vibrations sending shockwaves up her spine, her walls fluttering. "shit," she cried, her thighs closing around his head. eren grunted, his fingers digging into her skin.

"don't stop, don't stop, don't stop." her cries were like music to his ears. his tongue worked over her clit, alternating between flicking the tip over it and sucking. her grip tightened further in his hair, the roots straining against her grasp. eren grunted, his eyes squeezing shut. he could feel her legs tense around him, juices flowing into his mouth. his cock was straining against his shorts and he could feel his precum leaking out.

eren," she moaned, her thighs threatening to give out. "please."

"please what?"

"i need more."

"what do you want me to do?"

"fuck, just use your fingers."

eren chuckled.

"use them where?"

"in my pussy. fuck. please."

"good girl."

he gave her clit one last sloppy lewd kiss before pulling his mouth away, one hand holding her. the other taking his tongues place, his pointer and middle finger rubbed circles over the swollen purple nub, his tongue trailing up her slit. she shivered, her head falling back. his fingers slid lower, teasing her hole. he slowly pushed his middle finger in, groaning at the way her walls clenched around him. she was soaked, dripping all over his hand. he couldn't resist burying his face back into her cunt, his tongue dipping in alongside his finger. desperate moans filled the bedroom, her manicured toes curling. eren fucked his finger into her tight pussy, his tongue relentlessly licking her folds.

"oh god," she moaned, her hips rocking against his face. "right there. don't stop, don't stop." her body was on fire. it had been weeks since eren had gone down on her and it was the best feeling in the world right now. a ring of cream built around his digit, a sight that made his dick jump in excitement. it strained painfully against his pants, desperate to be buried inside her warm cunt.

"you like it when i eat your pussy?" eren's words were muffled, his fingers and mouth working overtime. the girl could only nod, her words lost in the pleasure. her moans grew louder, her legs shaking as her orgasm approached. her hips rolled, her thighs trapping his face between them. god, he fucking loved how thick you are. “tell me you’re pretty.”

"e-eren."

"say it. say you're pretty. you're so fucking pretty."

"i'm pretty," the girl panted, her nails clawing his scalp. "fuck, i'm so pretty."

eren couldn't help but grin. "that's right." the sound of his lips against her pussy is disgusting. the way he sucked her clit in his mouth, and the way his fingers curl deep within her cunt, reaching places she didn’t know existed drives her mad. her mind is hazy and her legs are numb. the pleasure is too much, she can't help but ride his face and his fingers, desperate for the high. eren hums as his nose bumps against her sensitive clit, her slick dripping down his chin. eren’s fucking messy, tongue lazily peppering wet licks on her inner thighs. his fingers never cease in their pace, his fingers never cease in their pace, and the girl can feel her legs shake , her vision spotting.

"gonna cum, eren," she whined, her back arching further off the wall. a loud sob fumbles from her as she finally reaches her peak, full-on crying as eren continues his assault. the brown girl is a blabbering incoherent mess as her boyfriend sucks on her pussy, fingers pulling at his hair for sympathy. but there is none, tears sliding down her flushed cheeks. "m’ i got you," eren comforts as he finally pulls away, gently guiding her aching body down. he’s nothing but a gentleman after, cleaning her up with a nice warm rag, slipping a pair of his boxers up her thighs, then one of his hoodies. once again it makes her tear up knowing how lucky she is. "shh. it’s okay, m’here." eren presses kisses against her face, "nothing would ever make me look at you differently."

he looks into her eyes, his gaze soft and reassuring, wiping away the tears that still cling to her cheeks. "you are everything to me. my future wife, the mother of my child, the one I want to grow old with. wether you’re a hundred pounds or two, i don’t care.” he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to her frazzled nerves. his kisses are light and delicate, each one a promise of his unwavering affection. in his arms, she feels cherished and safe, the world outside fading away as she bask in the sweetness of his care.

:,) to have a man like this.

[neonovember]

So I currently have food poisoning and I can’t help but it think how mad Carmy would be if a restaurant gave his gf/wife food poisoning

Also Carmy come take care of me and make me soup plz 🙇‍♀️😫

Plus he would give the best snuggles 😭

firstly, sending lots of love and recovery, i've never actually had fp lmao so a lot of time on webmd will be spent. get ur fluids in! secondly, carmen might have to go underground for setting the restaurant on fire. we love him for it

summary: You were hungry and had just finished work and you didn't think about inspecting the goddamn Michelin star restaurant, maybe you should have.

warnings; cursing, food poisoning, richie (he's a warning), hipsters, talks of future arsony, possessive carmen, cracked fic ngl,

divider by @firefly-graphics

i'm slipping back into the unsafe territory of wanting fictional characters. (and i don't care)

You could roll your eyes in annoyance if you weren't hunched over the ceramic bowl of the toilet heaving out the contents of your stomach while Carmen held you hair back.

The one time, the one goddamn time you decide to try a new place without Carmen's input, without his meticulous standards and in depth research behind every night out.

It wasn't like you hadn't tried to vet the new braised beef spot that opened up on west Avenue. In fact, you had heard all but stellar reviews from friends and family, meeting you with suprise hearing that Carmen hadn't taken you. You decided to bring home a small plate, their signature braised meat with plums, red onions and atrichocke hearts.

You had meant to share it with Carmen, and you were going to, but a botched catering order had him staying back another hour than what had been planned. And well..you say you tried to save some for Carmen, but despite its bacteria laced beef and vomit inducing sides it was pretty fuckin' good.

Was this God's wrath coming down upon you? Punishing you for your gluttony? Food poisoning did feel awfully close to perpetual hellfire.

The TV was blaring some indescriptive show, the kind with dramatic introductions and soap opera worthy screams. It helped fill the space of absence when Carmen worked long nights, and you felt quite comfortable wrapped up in a blanket with a full stomach and a warm sofa.

Your phone had pinged with the sound of Carmen's text, letting you know he was on the way when it started. At first you had written it off as mere indigestion, probably from shoveling the cursed meal into your mouth too quickly.

Then, around the time the show's main character had found out her boyfriend got her mother pregnant, the nausea set in. Swirling aches that felt like a whirlpool in your stomach had taken over, sloshing and swirling and never leaving. You couldn't mistake it, as you tried to swallow past a dry throat and the creeping sweats of a headache inducing fever began to ravage your body.

You hated sitting in discomfort, it wasn't as though you were afraid of vomiting no, you just could not bare to feel the way your stomach skipped and jumped with every wave of nausea that took over.

You thought of making yourself sick, but shook your head when the alarming disapproval of Carmen's voice loomed over.

"It's just gonna make it worse, you gotta sit with it till it passes"

Fuck him and his medical knowledge. What did he know?

You had ripped off the blanket that had once felt comforting, peeling of layers of clothing that stuck to your body like a second skin. You just felt hot, so hot, is anyone else feeling this heat? You try to move from the couch to reach your phone, but the sudden movement has nausea bubbling up your throat.

You fall to the ground in a heap, hand clasped around your mouth to stop the possibility of projectile vomiting on the rug you had just bought and shoot your hand up to reach for your phone.

You press Carmen's number, begging him to answer you in genuine crisis rather than when you were drunk with friends and missed him. You feel the urge to heave and crawl quickly to the bathroom, phone clasped in hand and suddenly desperately needed his medical knowledge.

Carmen phone rings from the behind the stack of documents in the office, and he hastily wipes his hands across his apron before trying to reach it before it rings out.

Guilt fills his stomach at the thought of you, he was meant to be home hours ago. The catering order needed a few extra hands to help, and once Carmen began he got lost in it, and now you had spent nearly the entire night alone.

"Fuck- Hey baby, I know I said I was comin' but I had to finish a couple things-" Carmen quickly responds as he swipes the call button.

The groan of pain that responds has Carmen freezing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Baby? What-, are you okay?" Carmen replies quickly, his voice going short as his mind turns every possible scenario that had you whining in pain over the receiver.

"Please come quickly, Carmen I think I might-" You gulp and make a retching sound "I think I got sick from that place I was telling you about" You plead out, breathing heavily into the speaker.

The guilt that had filled Carmen seems to morph into an anger that rushes up his chest as he shakes his head.

"The new place? The one with the fuckin' smoke meat? They did this?"

"Mhm" You mumble "I should've just listened to you" You groan out in sadness.

"Fucking idiots. How the fuck did they even? Okay, okay honey just gimme a second yeah?"

How did he let this happen? Carmen has half the mind to stop at the restaurant that more of a Instagram attraction that a respected place of business. You were so eager and excited t try it, Carmen had his own thoughts but would glue his mouth shut if it meant making you happy.

He'll make sure they get shut down, or at least black listed from Chicago as long as he's concerned. His hands shake with the eager want for the fight, to smash someones jaw for resorting you to a heap of tears and sick. He would, he knows he will, but at this moment he needed to take care of your first.

He mumbles out a rushed reply, phone between his shoulder and ear as he slips out of his work shoes and into his sneakers. He thinks for a moment to grab his things but immediately shut that thought out when he hears you groaning into the phone.

"Just stay on the phone okay? I'm coming now, I need to get you some things alright?"

You let out what you hope is a reply, hunched over the toilet.

Carmen rushes to the store fridge, grabbing containers of soup Tina had prepared for family as the Chicago winter was getting close.

"You alright kid?" Richie mumbles, walking into the kitchen entry way, scratching his stomach as he watched Carmen's erratic movements around the store.

"Fuckin-, she's sick. And I'm here chopping up tomatoes for fucking Guy while she was in pain for god knows how long-"

"Woah, Bugs sick? We talking COVID or.."

"I'm such a fucking idiot. No it's not COVID Rich, Jesus Christ. Some rookie new spot trying something outside of their abilities gave her food poisoning. Fuckin' hipsters"

"Oh that's bad. You know when I got food poisoning the one time I took Tiff to this romantic getaway. Had me projectile vomiting in the AirBnb bathroom. Couldn't even get a deposit back, had to pay some dumb ass cleaning fee-"

Carmen wipes a hand across his face shaking his head. He was already pent up, he might throw a pan at Richie if he doesn't stop talking.

"Richie, I don't have time for this, I need to get her some Sprite or"

Richie shuffles across to the cupboard near the back of the house, grabbing bottles of Gatorade and a pack of saltine crackers.

"How do you even have this stuff lying around"

"You're the one with the inhuman alcohol tolerance Carmy, someone of us actually have hangovers you freak" Richie retorts

"Yeah yeah, thanks. Fuck- I gotta" Carmen replies, to which Richie nods.

"Go. I'll wrap up anything here" Richie replies, understanding in his voice. You took precedence over pretty much everything in Carmen's life.

"And Carm?"

"Yeah?" Carmen calls out, slipping on his jacket as he turns to Richie

"Tell me when we're going to sort out those bearded wearing flannel ass wipes"

Carmen shakes his head with a smile, before nodding and pushing past the kitchen doors. The traffic lights better be green green fuckin' green tonight.

You were stripped to a singlet and sleeping shorts as you knelt over the toilet, blinking back exhausted tears at the state of you.

You suppose you have no one else to blame but yourself, but the indignation righteousness burns almost as bright as the acid reflux crawling up your throat.

You hear the faint opening and loud clang of the apartment door opening and closing and you sigh in relief as you hear the familiar footfalls of Carmen down the hall.

It had felt damn near torturous suffering without him, and as he calls out to you following the trail of loose clothing he spots your figure in the bathroom sprawled.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry" Carmen says

And it was as if your body needed to finally feel safe in Carmen's presence before you felt the nausea spill out of you and splash offensively into the toilet.

You feel Carmen crouch above you, dragging your hair that had gone loose from it's wrapped up do away from your face. Gently rubbing your back, his large hands softly dipping up and down your spine.

"That's it, 'atta girl. Let it all out" Carmen coo's softly

You purged the insides of your stomach into the toilet bowl, retching loudly with every heave as Carmen comforted you. After what seemed like hours, and the nausea had subsided Carmen carefully wrapped his arms up under your armpits picking you up of the floor.

"Slowly, yeah? You damn near emptied out you're entire water content" Carmen murmurs, flushing the toilet and helping you walk to the basin and wash out the taste of bile from your mouth.

"I probably look insane" You cry out, blinking back exhaustion from your eyes as Carmen shakes his head furiously.

"Never, my pretty girl. Need you to go easy okay? Gonna take you to bed and let you sleep through it. Can't have you collapsing on me" Carmen murmurs, wiping at the edge of your mouth, patting the sweat that stuck to your forehead.

You let Carmen carefully maneuver your body, one arm under your legs and the other supporting your back walking to the bedroom. Your wring dry and can barely keep your eyes open as Carmen placed you on the cool sheets you immediately moan at.

You hear the faint rustle of movement as Carmen brings in a paper bag. The clunk of bottles placed on the bedside table as you sing praise for the very short bit of relief you have before the next bout of nausea rolls in.

Carmen pads to the adjacent bathroom, the door opened so you can see the stream of light that illuminates him. Hes running a cloth under water, squeezing the excess and looking up to check on you every so often.

He looked so...domestic, like he hadn't come back from working at one of the most decorated restaurants in Chicago. Stripped of his shirt so he stood bare chested, golden curls pushed behind his ears, sweatpants hung low on his hips and the furrow of his eyebrows in concentration and worry.

Your eyes flutter shut as you thank the midnight sky for bringing him to you, for keeping him for you, this one good thing that was yours.

The skies answer by the sound of his voice listing off all the things you will not be doing in this stage of recovery. Sitting on the edge of the bed as he places the cool rag against your forehead, lips between teeth as he feels your temperature under his skin.

"Just bone broth, Gatorade and bread sticks for you, doll. And no, before you even think it, its not the garlic ones." Carmen tsks.

You were thinking it. He knew you too well, but when he kisses your eyelids and measures out careful tips of the Gatorade bottle, you don't mind it.

[icallhimjoey]

please bestie i want some soft love that's so second nature joe doesnt even have his attention with you whilst he gives it, please can you write something like that?

im not allowed to write right now because work and stress and boundaries and mental health etc etc so 🥰fuck you🥰 for this Wordcount: 1.8K

---

Cotton Soft Touches Gentle Voices Smooth

“What are you doing?”

You barely even heard Joe ask the question from across the room. You were so buried in whatever was happening on TV, focus completely zoomed in, mind somewhere else entirely. It took Joe another try for you to register the question directed at you.

“Hey. What are you doing?”

“Hmm?” you turned your head to Joe before your eyes followed and for a moment, you just slowly blinked at him. Something about his face combined with the fact that it really took you a minute to find yourself back in the room made you smile. You were so cosy.

“Watching TV.” you answered innocently, because you were, eyes back on the screen already.

You were warmly nestled into the sofa, curled up, knees pulled in, all comfortable in your white ribbed cotton pyjamas. The throwpillows and blankets on the sofa created the perfect nest for you to happily curl up into.

Snug.

Soft ambient light from several lamps placed in strategic corners lit up the room just enough. If you stood and opened the curtains a bit more, you could still catch the faint and fading oranges of the sunset.

You were shower fresh, limbs covered by white clean cotton, nose still a little cold from the difference in temperature after getting out of the hot stream, and wet hair cool where it touched your skin.

But you felt so warm.

So fucking cosy.

When you’d walked back into the living room post shower, skin glossy and wet hair brushed back, Joe had installed himself at the dinner table with his laptop and a notebook.

He’d cleared away the mess from dinner and had turned his spot into a desk.

“Just need to do these e-mails,” he said after you’d let your arms curl around him from behind, arms that he grabbed hold of for a second, and you kissed the top of his head.

“Will only be a minute.”

You’d left him to it then, not minding that Joe had some work to do, just happy that he was in the same room instead of hidden away in what he called the office and you called the guest bedroom.

The ‘only a minute’ easily turned into an hour plus. Joe kept busy on both his computer and his phone, and would sometimes scribble some things down onto paper. There was a phone call or two, just quick “Sorry to call so late, but have you seen the...” and, “Hey, yea, I'm just reading it now, can I call you back in a minute?” type things.

Joe became background noise to you the second you snuggled up, and similarly the low sounds coming from the TV were just a nice reminder that Joe wasn’t alone.

But then, halfway through typing a response to an e-mail, something in Joe’s peripheral vision caught his attention.

Something moving slowly.

A little rhythmically.

When he peeked over his laptop screen and saw his girlfriend looking just about the most comfortable she’d ever looked, he didn’t even think you were aware that you were doing it.

In your layers of soft cream fabrics, head slumped to the side, Joe saw how you let your fingers softly skim over the area below your ear. They danced in circles and lines by your jaw, onto your cheek just a little before trailing back to your neck and—

That was what Joe always did.

That’s where Joe let his fingers draw shapes.

He would brush some hair from your face and would then let his fingertips linger, and it always made you hum. Made you relax. Gave you tingles that made your hearing go funny for a second.

Joe watched you lazily self soothe, and after a moment he decided that he’d actually done enough work. He could finish this e-mail tomorrow.

“What are you doing?”

“Hmm? Watching TV.”

Your eyes were back on the screen before Joe could’ve even said anything about how you were touching yourself.

It was nothing sexual - not really. Not what he was witnessing right now anyway. He imagined it just felt nice.

He closed his laptop and got up from his seat, and without looking away from the TV, you moved to make space for Joe next to you, knowing he’d make his way over to press himself into your side.

Joe smiled as you moved blankets aside but kept that one hand near your ear, index finger mapping out your hairline towards the nape of your neck and back.

Instead of sitting down though, Joe pushed a knee into the sofa right next to your thigh and placed his fingers right were yours were, pushing them aside.

“I do this,” Joe said as he hovered over you, and you grinned as you let your head fall to the side more. “This is my job.”

Joe tickled his fingers along your soft skin, fresh and clean from the shower, and it only took a few seconds for you to sigh into his touch.

It was nicer when Joe did it.

“S’nice?” Joe murmured, still with just one knee on the sofa, and you hummed, eyes closed, nodding.

“Is nicer when you do it.”

“Yea?”

Joe leant forward to press a kiss to your cheek, getting you just under your eye, and then he moved to sit down next to you.

After a shuffle of throws, pillows, and limbs, you found yourself under Joe’s arm, curled up into his side.

You were comfortable before, but this would always be infinitely better.

“Hmm, you smell nice.” Joe commented after taking a moment to press his nose into your still damp hair.

“Yea? What do I smell like? Shampoo?” you whispered, voice not wanting to be any louder.

Joe easily bit, taking the invitation to get another real good whiff of you, his whole face now pressing into the crook of your neck.

You relished the attention, feeling fuzzy on the inside, heat blooming in your chest.

“Yea, sort of lemony… all fresh and clean.”

You blushed and were unable to hide your smile as you settled together for some TV watching, warm bodies pressed together, always fitting just right somehow.

Joe’s arm rested on the back of the sofa and bent around your head just right for his fingers to play. To touch the skin around your ear like you’d been doing before. To lightly trail and leave goosebumps down your whole body.

You could easily fall asleep like this, legs intertwined, head on his chest.

You lazily watched TV in silence for a while and if Joe was going to keep up the barely there shapes drawn down your neck you knew you actually would fall asleep.

It was becoming difficult to keep your eyes open, every blink a comfortable invitation to just keep them closed, but then the soft buzzing of Joe’s phone pulled you both from your haze.

Joe had your earlobe in between his fingers when he answered, and for a moment you were fully expecting him to get up. Move to where his laptop lay shut to open it once more to maybe finish something he hadn’t yet.

But when you tried to sit up a little for Joe to slip out of this cocoon you’d created, you felt his arm tense. He wasn’t letting go of the soft skin of your ear and to make sure you stayed put, he bent a leg to keep yours in place.

“It’s past ten, mate,” Joe answered and although you didn’t know who was calling him, just from his tone of voice you knew it wasn’t work related.

Joe gently rubbed your earlobe between his fingers and it felt so nice, it turned the world blurry as you unfocused your eyes.

When you relaxed back into him, sinking into the line of his body, Joe tilted his head down to look at you, barely catching your little smile but happy to see you were still enticed by whatever was happening on TV.

You weren’t though.

Not really.

Because as Joe spoke, he let his fingers continue what they’d been doing and if he thought you were able to try to follow his conversation as well as what you were watching whilst he made you melt with his touch, he was wrong.

You were bad at multitasking on a good day, and you knew Joe was too. The fact that he was somehow able to keep you lax and floating whilst simultaneously being mentally present for this phone call was impressive.

Joe laughed through casual conversation with a friend who had some questions about future plans they’d made. Their chat quickly turned into a hey-now-that-I’ve-got-you-on-the-phone catch up.

The low vibrations from his smooth voice were nice. You felt them where your face rested on his chest and relished in the tender love you were receiving that felt like a second nature sort of thing.

“No, I’m just at home. Watching TV.”

Not being mentioned suddenly made Joes fingers feel a little scandalous. Like the person on the phone wasn’t allowed to know you were there and how he was making you feel right now.

It got a little worse when you felt how Joe let his fingers trail down your neck to disappear into your pyjama top where they slowly caressed over your collarbone.

Your voice let a little noise escape when his hand snuck back up again, finding its way into your hair, and Joe chuckled lowly.

You let yourself balance on the borders of consciousness, half asleep with thoughts so far removed from where you were, yet half laser focused on Joe’s fingers and where they tickled your skin.

Unsure of when you’d drifted off, or when Joe had finished his phone call, the next thing you registered was a soft and low far away, “Have I done a plait?” that pulled you back into the room a little more.

With your eyes still closed you reached a heavy hand up to feel what was essentially just a twirled strand of hair, not a plait at all.

You couldn’t hide the little smile that spread at how adorable you thought it was that Joe’d just been playing with your hair and thought he’d actually done something.

He hadn’t.

He just made you feel loved, which was actually far better than a plait.

“Mhm,” you hummed approvingly, snuggling up into Joe more, understanding that it was likely much smarter to just get up and find your way into bed, but you’d quite literally never been more comfortable before.

“I’ve done a plait.” Joe whispered, gleefully proud of himself and making sure that you knew, that you’d heard him, give him some praise.

“Well done.” You lied, because he’d not done a plait, but that was okay.

You weren’t going to shoot yourself in the foot, because you were about to sink back into sleep and there was just one thing that’d make you feel even more comfortable.

That would send you right back off into sleep.

 “Do another.”

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[nouearth]

my favorite scent is you.

bruce wayne x male reader.

summary: bruce needs to be taken care of too (in which reader believes it's through the form of sex).

wc: 3.5k. genre: smut, angst (kinda?). warnings: top!bruce, consensual!somnophilia, blowjobs, slow mouth-fucking, fondling, reader is asleep, bruce and reader are the same age, reader also grew up with bruce, mentions of parental death, trauma-bonding.

notes: it's been a while since i've done a brucey smut (and also fulfilled a request), so here ya go! actually my first time writing about somnophilia, so be easy on me, lmao. it was harder than i thought! also i'm trying a new layout,,, kinda, don't mind me.

“Do you remember that night? When my parents… you know.”

It had been a little less than a decade, but the uneasiness you felt when mentioning your parents’ death was akin to hovering your palm above an open flame. The flicker of the heat frightened you. Though, you couldn’t help but feel magnetic towards it—closer and closer—until you felt a strike to your calloused hand.

Just a little more, and you’ll break free.

It was striking how your wounds maintained their novelty. Years of skin hardening, scabbing and layering over the memory of Bruce breaking the news to you on that night, and the slightest mention of your parents tore it open with little defiance.

“Yeah…” Bruce whispered, and a sudden impulse to hold you prevailed over him. He turned over on his side, slipping his arms over and under your frame, and pulled your back flushed to his chest. You eased with a melting squirm, a physical gratitude, and then another when you pressed a kiss to his forearm. “It was supposed to be Alfred telling you, but I insisted.”

“Really?” Your curiosity was piqued and you felt Bruce nod into the crown of your head, breathing you in deep like his favourite cologne. A scent he’d never wear himself because it matched you perfectly. “How come?”

“Well, I had no one other than Alfred when my parents died. He tried his best, but we barely had time to grieve. A bunch of responsibilities were bestowed upon him overnight; my parents’ estate, numerous paperworks, the press and media, not to mention the funeral service. It was… a lot for him.”

Bruce sighed, squeezing you tighter for support as he continued. “I remember reading—signing off things that I knew nothing about the very next day.” He then laughed, a bitterness surfing for air in the bass of his voice. “I didn’t even have a signature yet.”

“I’m sorry…” A heaviness sank you and Bruce deeper into the mattress. You latched onto Bruce’s arm for support, held him gently, and found levity through the brush of his lips, as if he was saying—consoling you through the black void: I’m here, I’m here. 

“Is that why you guys hired my parents?”

“Mm-hm, we needed help around the manor while Alfred had bigger duties to tend to. And I’m glad he suggested the idea as much as I was apprehensive about it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met such an incredible family. A year became two, then another two, then another, and…” Bruce recalled the sounds, the visions of red and blue flashing—blaring into the sky.  “Which was why I thought it would be best if it came from me. So I could be that someone that I desperately needed during my grieving.”

“You shouldn’t have been thinking about that though… I mean, what—we were only fifteen? Coming from your background, you should’ve been… cocky, annoying, emo, selfish, like every other teenager.

“I guess your personality kind of compensated for that—” He amused himself with some levity.

“Hey!” You choked out a laugh, then lightly elbowed his stomach behind you. “Ass.”

“Ow,” Bruce pressed a smile to the back of your head, inhaling your scent again. “I did have that emo phase though.”

“Oh yeah—” Within his hold, you turned your body to meet Bruce face-to-face as a flood of memories came rushing in. You greeted him with a smile that he was able to single out from within the dark. Then, he made sure your presence was acknowledged with a chaste kiss. 

“Your hair came down to your nose and stuff—oh! And you kept wearing the same hoodie too.” 

“Yeah, okay—we get it. Not my best look.” He groaned, tearing himself away from you as your descriptions of Bruce suddenly developed into powerfully cringe-inducing memories. As embarrassing as the past was, he was glad it brought you some kind of merriment. He’d been scolded multiple times by numerous people, though namely Alfred, to treat you better.

You and Bruce weren’t always close. In all honesty, it took your parents’ death that empowered you two to stick together more than ever. Where darkness used to storm over the roof of the manor, you and Bruce managed to conjure a light that illuminated a path to find sanctuary within each other.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me.” The moonlight reflecting through the bedroom window casted shadows across Bruce’s profile. Wrinkles you’ve never noticed before were accentuated; eye-bags that you’ve been nagging at him to take care of deepened; glimpses of a boy who was forced to grow up. 

He turned when you reached over to trace over the spotlighted features. A single digit caressed the bumpy bridge of his nose; the stubble that tickled you whenever you kissed; the cut over his broad chin that was your favorite spot to kiss,; the scar over his left cheek that had been healing for months, only to restart the process again after Bruce’s late night endeavors.

“Let me take care of you now.”

You weren’t sure how Bruce took your proposal. Recalling the moment had you adding unnecessary details that all-the-more exploded the situation into a narrative you couldn’t exactly trust.

Wait… he made a weird face when I told him. I remember a face! No, idiot—he just had an itch on his cheek. Oh.

I don’t remember his phone ringing… You think he was trying to get out of the conversation? Maybe? He usually has his phone set on the loudest volume possible…

Oh god, he probably thinks I’m some kind of sex-crazed addict. Well, aren’t you— No?! I just—wanted to take care of him… We rarely see each other these days and I doubt the lunches I’d make for him add much to that narrative. I needed something more. Wow, I’ve been talking to myself for this long?

You probably look crazed, especially if someone were to walk in the bedroom at this moment, but you’d be too deep into your thoughts to hardly notice. If you did notice, you’d probably go on a tangent about how Bruce was probably disgusted by how you could even suggest a thing like that.

Your toes and fingers curled at the recollection you were certain happened.

“So… I know you’ve been out late at night—” “(M/N), it’s not what you—” “Shh, I’m too good of a catch for you to cheat on me.” “I mean, keep that cockiness up and maybe—” “Excuse me?!” “I’m joking.” “Uh-huh, well, keep joking and I might have to rescind my offer.” “Your offer?” “Look, I haven’t seen you much lately. It’s not your fault. You’re busy.” “I know—I just need to deal with this…” “Bruce, you look—you are tired. You’re overworked and whenever we do spend time together, you’re asleep!” “I’m trying my b—” “You’re trying your best, I know! And I don’t know what you do at night, not sure if I do want to know, but… two-three hours of sleep is not enough. You’re killing your body.” “Hm…” “And one day, you’re going to crack and I just…” “Just..?” “I’m not sure how to… put it.” “What is it?” “If you want to… and it’s entirely up to you, but…” “Jesus, spit it out—” “I— if I’m still asleep, and you want to somehow… relieve your stress..?” “Oh—” “I’m all yours.”

The second hand on the clock cycled slower, almost as if it was mocking you for being so desperate, impatient, and doubting. Yet, at the same time—if clocks could have a personality—there was a dormant kindness in the rhythm of the minute hand striking every corner of the wheel. Gentle and soothing, the lids of your eyes grew heavier with every passing second as the sound of the clock counted sheeps for you.

Forty, forty-one… fourty-two… Forty… three…

The floor creaked despite Bruce’s best efforts to remain light on his feet. You’ve always been a light sleeper, even at the sound of wind whistling you’d jolt up to, but surprisingly—nothing. 

As he approached his side of the bed, his eyes settled on you like always. To Bruce, it was a sweet sigh of relief to come back home to you again. Sometimes, a miracle depending on the crimes of that night. Nightly patrols have taken a toll on him; on his body, on his mentality; but being in your presence always—no matter what—brought him back to the solitude his life was at before being laboured by vengeance.

Coldly, he sat on the edge, careful to not wake you, as he dried off the damp strands of his washed hair with a towel. Then, he chased after the tremors off his bare body with several rubs of the coarse towel, gathering water molecules into the material until he was somewhat dry. It was the typical nightly routine of Bruce Wayne, in which he was guilty of vacating you of.

Bruce witnessed—took part in—how you ended your night. A late night snack, a book, a tv show—and he’d stroke your hair to the sound of his heartbeat until you were out like a light. He’d never forget to kiss your forehead as if it was an enchantment that would guard him for the rest of the night. Naively, Bruce was apprehensive of the subtle chance of reducing his survival rate if he were to miss a night of seeing you—touching you. Even if you had the biggest argument with him, even if you were in the wrong, he’d make sure to see you one last time before escaping into the shadows, saving the city—saving you.

After dressing himself in a fresh set of briefs, the soft cushions of his bed and pillows enticed him back into sanctuary. He crawled back into bed and instinctively found his arms around your body, warm and full against the recovering bruises against his own flesh. Skipping dinner was a norm, but he felt satiated when he could hear you breathe, feel your pulse, and watch you writhe within his doting affection.

“Goodnight.” Bruce muttered as he nestled his nose into your hair, another deep inhale of your scent to ground him that you were still present in his life. And then another as his head turned towards your neck, a familiar smell that taunted him to lean closer until his nose pressed softly into the crook of your skin.

White musk.

The top note of his favourite cologne on you. It lingered delightfully in Bruce’s nostrils, and there was a reason why he always urged you to spray it on date nights. It was intoxicating.

Come to think of it, Bruce’s night routine hadn’t completely checked off all of his tasks for the night. After he would come home, it was a no-brainer to shower off the sweat, dirt, and sometimes blood, from his patrols. He would scrape his hair clean with the shampoo suds, mint and cooling on his scalp. Then he’d move onto his body. The suds would trickle down his torso, gather in his muscles, and he’d add onto the bubbles with his body wash, lathering himself from head to toe. And almost always, the slightest brush of his length would break the restraints the night had locked his sanity behind. It was always you that managed to free him. As he would squeeze himself, fondle his sack while the suds dribbled down his leg and feet, he’d think of you—miss you in ways he wouldn’t dare to ignore, ways in which he was ashamed to desert you of.

“I’m all yours.” Your proclamation echoed, ran marathons in Bruce’s mind as the white musk led him astray. The simple thought of him taking advantage of you guilted him, churned his stomach until it was bundled into thick knots, but it made his heart race.

“(M/N)?” He whispered. The bed creaked when Bruce peered over you, and he was met by silence. A few soft snores joined the ticking of the clock, but for the most part, silence.

I shouldn’t… Bruce convinced himself. It was… shameful to even think of taking advantage of you like that—in your unconscious state, in your vulnerability. You looked peaceful in your slumber and knowing how hard you worked, he wouldn’t dare to ruin it because of his own selfish desires.

He sighed, rolling flat onto his back again, hoping the uncomfortable ache in his briefs would settle down in a minute or so. When it didn’t, Bruce tended to it with a brief re-adjustment of the way his length stood. Then again as he twitched in defiance.

Again, as he throbbed.

And again, when his briefs couldn’t support his throbbing erection anymore. 

Bruce turned his head to the side, scanning your unconscious state. His eyes traced the languid form of your body as it sank deep into the mattress, hugging the air to your body while he slowly pulled the blanket off of you.

The bed creaked as inch by inch, Bruce scooted closer to you, turning back to lie on his side and nearly spooning you again. His movements were sluggish, apprehensive to wake you, but at the same time, there was an adrenaline rush surging through him knowing he could be caught any second (despite your permission).

His hand felt it as it caressed your arm in singular, docile strokes. Then his breath, as he leaned closer, pressing himself against you again, and slipped a hand under your shirt. Your bare stomach rested warmly against his calloused palm, and he felt your breath hitch, your stomach tensed, every evidence of your presence, as Bruce ran a palm upwards to touch your chest once, then back down to bravely slither under the waistband of your boxers.

“Fuck…” Bruce’s breath unevened, struggling to keep a steady rhythm, when his palm gently groped a handful of your flaccid cock, a complete opposite of the shameful erection he was prodding near your bottom. You writhed once, and he quickly paused with a shudder as you suddenly turned to lie on your back, smacking the dryness in your throat away as you drove yourself into deeper slumber.

He found it unusual how you haven’t awakened by now, but the cynical part of him pleaded for you to remain asleep—until he had his way with you.

Gently, Bruce lifted your hips to pull down the remainder of your boxers off until you were bare in all of your glory before him. Your balls lay briefly in between your legs before they were back to being fondled in his warm palms. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this…”

Droplets of sweat formed over Bruce’s hairline as he sluggishly maneuvered himself to kneel over your unconscious state. His thighs hardened, flexed as he maintained his balance over you. He stroked his cock with his free-hand; to the gentle snores you poured out, to your slightly parted lips that he could easily spread open with his girth, and to his surprise, to the stiffness of your cock as it stirred awake from his constant fondling.

What are you dreaming about? Are you dreaming of me? Are you dreaming of being fucked by me? Bruce groaned as he witnessed the once softened features of your face stiffened into diffident lust. Your breath unknowingly quickened when Bruce began stroking your cock together with his in one grasp. Your body writhed with uncomfortable pleasure as if you wanted whatever was happening to you to stop, yet the throbbing veins of your cock begged Bruce for more—to hold you for longer, to keep doing as he pleased.

Bruce forgot what it was like to have you like this; to have you squirming beautifully beneath him, dripping in heavy pre-cum while simultaneously having your cock lathered in his own fluid. He was enticed by your every movement, squirming and writhing confined by the state of slumber as you couldn’t stop him. You couldn’t stop the uncomfortable pleasure that was happening to you because you were dreaming a dream that refrained you from resisting your boyfriend.

I know you want it. Fuck… I know you want my cum, (M/N). He paused briefly to press his forehead into yours, sweat dripping off his face and onto your body in his maneuver, and breathed languidly against your lips to find the parting in order to breathe his lewd thoughts into you. Bruce was careless, dangerously brave as he slipped a tongue inside of you to spread your mouth open further. You made a sound, but he muted it with a swallow as he ravished you like honey on a spoon. Remnants of mint lingered on his tongue, and as much as he wanted to continue tasting you, he needed to relieve himself.

He was close.

Carefully, he dragged himself over your chest and kneeled over your chest. Bruce’s cock hung heavy above your slumber, dripping in thick strings of pre-cum from the plump tip—a shameful exhibit of how much this had turned him on, how much he had been deprived of this act for so long.

Open wide. It was morbid. Bruce never thought himself of ever once doing this obscene act, but the guilt that had been the cause of his apprehension was only fleeting the moment he pushed his cock into your sleeping mouth. 

“Oh, fuck…” He was careful with you. Careful enough to not stir you awake, but courageous enough to fulfill his sense of greed. Bruce pushed deeper, and deeper until he couldn’t anymore. His thick cock steadied your breathing and in favor, your saliva warmed him with complete gratitude.

Come on, I know you can take it… His eyes darkened at your inability to take his girth. As much as it sounded like a threat, it drove him delirious knowing you couldn’t. Even in your waking moments, it fueled a sense of pride when you gagged on his cock, covered him in bubbly thick spittle, and looked like an absolute mess while attempting to swallow him again.

Fuck, (M/N)... You’d pull him out when you had enough of gagging on his cock and jerk him off instead, catching your breath in the midst of it all. He never told you, but it was Bruce’s favourite part whenever you two did this together. The pure lust in your eyes, craving for a fill that you and him both know that he would deliver upon greatly. And somehow, as lewd as the act was, you both knew it was more than sex. You and Bruce were making love, fucking with a craving that you only have for each other because it was only you two that could bring this type of pleasure to one another. 

“Fuck—” Bruce paced himself, biting back an adamant moan, thrusting slow yet filling into your mouth as he held onto the headboard. The scrape of your teeth made him hiss, but the pleasure of your warm mouth was so fulfilling that it overwhelmed any painful feeling you’ve prescribed him to.

I’m close, (M/N)... Fuck, let me cum on you… On your body, on your face, I want it everywhere on you.

He released his cock from your mouth and took the heavy girth into his own palm, pumping the muscle with a sudden vigor that had been motivated to see you covered in his fluids. Bruce’s eyes rolled back into his lids, panting heavy and harder because he was so close—so fucking close. He could see you sticking your tongue out for him, on your knees, playing with your cum-covered cock as you would wait patiently for his reward. You would begin begging for it—his cum, his cock, him. You’d worship his body, mouthing at his toned thighs, then his abdominal muscles, licking the sweat off the gutters to briefly satiate your appetite for Bruce.

Until you were gifted with his indulgent desire for you and only you in the form of thick and creamy white ropes. “I’m comin—” Bruce’s stomach sucked in hard, his abs contracting while his thighs vibrated with tremors, then with a guttural push, he released himself with a strong grunt. His grasp directed his thick and heavy loads towards your chest and stomach, stroking his throbbing cock through the glorious sprays. He sucked in his teeth to control the sounds that were threatening to burst out of his throat and whimpered with a shudder when it was unmanageable, continuing to empty his balls until he could smell the heavy sex and musk off your body.

Scanning you from head to toe, Bruce was breathless. Despite his delirious stint, it was impressive to see you drifting off to sleep like nothing had happened. Or rather, it was impressive that he had a certain amount of control to not completely make love to you like a wild mammal, rousing you from sleep.

Nonetheless, he powered through the overwhelming need to sleep to clean you up, even if you hadn’t mind the mess. And like always, he never forgot to end his night with a kiss, pressing a chaste yet breathless pant to your lips.

“Think your way of ‘taking care of me’ needs more time in the workshop , but we’ll talk about it later.” 

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[jarofstyles]

Oh ohhhhh friends to lovers pleaseeeee

6. "I wanna take you so fucking bad."

OHHHHH YES

Patreon

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Harry really wasn't sure how he ended up here.

It was a scenario from his dreams, ones he'd never admitted to having to anyone else before, but he didn't know how he'd even gotten into this position with his best friend. Wine night had gotten out of hand, some sort of something had been said and the next thing he knew he had a lapful of Y/N and wine stained lips pressed against his own.

Her pajama pants were pulled tight on her ass, his hands unable to keep the temptation of it away from his brain. Rocking on top of him, she whimpered softly as his lips pressed to her hot throat. The layers between them felt flimsy and he could feel how hot she was for him. His best friend of 5 years, rolling her hips and holding his face against her sweet spot on her neck.

"H-Harry..." She breathed, tugging softly on the hair at the nape of his neck. "It feels so good... Why does it feel so good?" Her slow grind against his prick made him roll his eyes back into his head. It was childish, something he hadn't done in years, but it felt better than his last year of hookups combined. "Why didn't we do this before?"

Y/N always asked the real questions.

"Dunno... Should have." His fingertips pressed into the curve of her ass, the hot skin exposed from her shorts moving up. "God...You smell amazing." It was the little things like that. Teeth nipping her throat and being engulfed in her, realizing just how much he gravitated towards certain candles because they smelled like her. His brain always knew, was always plotting this even if he was trying his hardest not to. "I wanna take you so fucking bad." The voice that came from his throat was unfamiliar to him, wrecked and desperate. "But I can't. Not now."

"No... Please." She begged, pulling him from her neck to look at him. "Please, H. I need it so bad, I can't... I can't stop." He could see it in her face. She meant it. Y/N really wanted him to take her, and god knew his cock was desperate to sink into her hot cunt, get deep inside, stay there. Milk every drop of cum her had inside of her. But not like this.

"Can't... Not when we've been drinking." He frowned. "M'not gonna stop this.... Gonna let you rub yourself on my cock and let you cum. Not that cruel." He squeezed over her ass harder to get that pretty whimper from her mouth. "But I can't do it like this. You deserve more. If I'm going to fuck you... M'gonna do it right." He breathed, connecting their lips again. She tasted so sweet, the tiniest hint of sour from the drinks but it only added to it.

"How?" She whined. "How are you going to fuck me?"

It shouldn't have been so easy for him to spill, but it was. "Need you on a bed. Not my couch." He started, deciding to let his hands slip under her shorts and feel the full warmth of her skin against his. "Strip you down, get to see how gorgeous you are. I know it's gonna ruin me, sweetheart." No lies were told. They wouldn't be able to come back from that. "Kiss down your body... Gonna make little marks for you to remember me by. On your perfect tits, that stomach, those gorgeous thighs... Everywhere I can." His hands aided her rocking, shifting her just so and getting the gasp he'd desperately wanted from her. The thin shorts and his sleep pants were barely layers and he knew this would be the way to get her clit the way she needed.

"Then I'm going to split those thighs open and kiss you down there. Lick you up. Start slow and tease you a little, make you beg for me just like you did before... But then I'll give it to you. Suck on that clit until you can't take it and push my head away, make you cum on my tongue and stretch you out with my fingers. Know you're going to be a sopping fucking mess. Gonna want it all over my face."

"Fuck." Y/N keened, gripping his hair tighter. The action alone made his prick twitch in his poor excuse of pants, feeling the heat of her cunt bleed through and warm him up. Soon enough she'd soak those shorts and he'd be able to feel it make a mess of him. "What else?"

"Greedy thing, aren't you?" He chuckled. "mm.. Want to feel that mouth wrapped around my cock. Dreamt of it so many times but... Think I want our first time to be about you. Dunno how long I'd last with it." The mere idea of her sucking him off had been the subject of many wanks and he knew it would take an embarrassingly short amount of time to orgasm. "So instead, I'd spread you open and take you. I'd want to take you on your back at first- need to see the look on that perfect face while my cock stretches that cunt open." He groaned at the mere thought. "But I think we'd switch around a bit." One hand slipped out of the back of her shorts to go up her shirt instead. The hot skin of her back warmed his palm as he dragged it up and down.

"I'd love t'take you just like this. Watch you bounce on me, make a mess of my lap. Have your tits in my face..." He let his hand graze the side of one, making her shiver. "Suck on them. Make them wet and swollen for me, just like your cunt. But you'd get tired, hm pretty girl? Bouncing up and down like that, gonna make your legs burn... So I'd flip you over and get you on your knees..." His voice was muffled for a moment as she kissed him again with her sugary mouth. "I'd get you on your knees and watch you take me. See your ass move and hit my thighs... How you'd arch your back for me. I think that would be perfect." His hand kneaded her ass, spreading it a bit roughly as she gave him another pretty gasp. Her eyes were bleary and soft as she looked down at him, heat behind the gaze as she rutted on top of him.

"Would you do it hard?" She asked, swallowing thickly. "Would you spank me?"

Harry's eyebrows raised in shock at the question, but it shouldn't have. Of fucking course she was perfect for him. There was no way around it. "Yeah, I would. I'd go at the pace you want... and you're obviously a filthy thing. Had no clue you wanted something like that, but I'd give it to you." he pulled her back down to his lips, slipping his hand out of her shirt to give a light slap to her ass before rubbing over the area to soothe. It wasn't the hardest he could have gone but it was testing the waters. "Like that?"

When she shook her head, he couldn't help but smile. "Harder?" He repeated the action, harder this time. It made her jolt, the stinging skin getting a whimper as she nodded against him. "Fuck me... You're what I needed all along, aren't you? Been under my nose the whole fucking time."

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (29/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Another glimpse of Charles' mind - and honey, that boy is down bad.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of dry humping, sex and oral sex), angst, but make it hot

Word Count: 3k

series masterlist

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A/N: LETS FUCKING GO LANDO!!! CHEERS BABE I LOVE YOU! feedback is appreciated!

Charles is so glad to be sitting in the rickety Renault again. He can feel the individual springs through the thin fabric of the seat and the few cracks in the steering wheel feel wonderfully familiar in his calloused hands. As soon as you both arrive at his mother's house, he would text Andrea and thank him for picking up the car with him at the old apartment.

It takes immense willpower for him to let his hand rest either on the gear stick between you or on the steering wheel, because he'd love to slide his ringed fingers over the fabric of your jeans on your thigh. Or hold your hand. Touch you somehow. 

It's as if he's addicted to your touch. As if the warmth of your skin, the softness of your body were a drug that he couldn't get enough of after the first real contact. And all he can think about is how good your skin felt against his. 

He regrets a little that the first time was in a terrible situation that both he and you would like to forget. He remembers how your body shook as you lay on your bed in just your underwear and cried. How you didn't even realize Charles had entered the room because literally everything was out of control. And for sure, after what he did and the words he threw at you, Charles had no right to comfort you and hold you in his arms. 

And although his head warned him to stay away from you, his body fought back and, without hesitation, lay with you, pulled you close and held you while you cried yourself to sleep. And when you sobbed his name, with a broken voice and a deep-seated, audible pain, his brain had completely shut down, which is why he couldn't say anything other than "I'm here as long as you'll let me".  

But he had already realized beforehand that there would be no turning back. He already knew at dinner with his friends that all he would ever want would be you as soon as you touched him. When you pressed your leg against his to show him that you were there for him, when he was asked about Annika, and for a moment it felt as if he had caught a spark of fire and it had sunk through his jeans and burnt him. But it was just the warmth of your skin that he could feel despite the layers of fabric. And when he wasn't sure if it was actually you, he'd suggested sharing the tiramisu so he could be closer to you. 

And when he not-so-accidentally pressed his chest against your back to reach the tiramisu in your hand, he got so warm he thought he was going to have a heat stroke. 

He had a similar experience the night he woke up because you breathed his name in your sleep and pressed your butt against him. The morning when he had to flee from bed because he feared he would provoke a heart attack if he allowed you to rub against him and then had to suppress his urge to touch you. There's no question that he was only thinking about you in the shower when he touched himself. 

But nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. When he wrapped his arm around you and intertwined your fingers to show you that he was there for you. The warmth he'd felt earlier through the clothes you'd been wearing had been pleasant. Your skin on his felt more like a burn, as if he'd put his hand on a hotplate that was switched on, as if he'd been lying in the sun too long without sunscreen and got burnt. As if you were the sun he got too close to. You burned into his skin with your touch - and never in his life has he loved heat as much as he did at that moment. 

That night, he held you as tightly as if he could suck the pain from your body and absorb it into himself. True, Charles had struggled just as much after realizing that the man who hurt the woman in his arms was the very man his own girlfriend had cheated on him with, but he'd swallowed that and shrugged it off the moment he'd seen the fear in your eyes as he climbed the steps to the apartment and saw you both standing in the hallway. 

You had been his priority and he wanted to protect you as best he could, even if he couldn't undo any of what had happened. He can't change the fact that Raphael betrayed you and he can't take away the pain that this breach of trust caused you. He can't undo the fact that he said all those cruel things to you because he was jealous of Lando, because you took him to your heart so quickly - who you touched without hesitation - and he couldn't keep his feelings under control. Charles can't change any of that. 

But the night he held you while you cried all the tears you had inside you, he vowed to protect you from anything that could hurt you. He swore to take care of you as best he could and to make your life easier if he could. He swore that he would never be the cause of your pain again. 

And even though your touch feels like a warm sunburn to him, like a hot ray of sunshine and like happiness itself, he vowed to see you as none other than his girlfriend, his roommate, who deserves far better than a jealous Charles who can't give you what you need to be happy. 

He can't assure you that he'll always be there for you when you need him. His job doesn't allow that. There's no way he can always be with you to hold you when you're sad. It's so incredibly unfair to ask you to wait for him. He can't give you the time the both of you need to build an adult, good and above all healthy relationship. And it would be irresponsible to plunge you into this life where the public would run their mouths about the couple just because you were a couple. He would give you anything you asked of him, but never would he put you in a situation that would hurt you.

He would protect you. The girl who lay quietly in his arms and cried until she fell asleep. The girl who turned his whole world upside down in the space of a few days. The girl who his mother thought was his girlfriend, which he didn't want to correct because he secretly wished that was the reality. 

The girl who was gracious enough to forgive him for his actions and stayed by his side despite his name and the hurdles his friendship would bring, even insisting on staying there come what may. The girl who helped him move on from his toxic relationship with his ex by burning it all. 

The night had been cleansing. With each piece of the relationship you both threw into the flames, the weight on Charles' shoulders lightened until it disappeared completely with the last burnt petal. He thought it was only fair to tell you that Raphael was the guy who had destroyed both your relationship and his. And although Charles could tell you were more upset by this fact than you might like to admit, he felt closer to you than ever before. 

You promised him that there would be a soulmate for him in this world. Someone with whom he doesn't have to pretend and can be who he really is. And after his body once again asserted itself against his brain and pulled you on top of him so that you could cuddle - strictly as friends - you fell asleep on top of him. And while he scratched your head, felt your warm breath on his neck and enjoyed the weight of your body on his, he wondered why he got the feeling that he had already found this person when he looked at you.

"Is she asleep?" Joris asked quietly and stood in front of the fire bowl, his hands outstretched to get some warmth. Charles nodded barely perceptibly. He would never risk you waking up and pulling away from him because of one of his movements. His heart couldn't take that. 

"Yes," he breathes without sound. 

Joris looks into the fire. "She's good for you. And you seem to be good for her too." When Charles looks at him, a little confused, Joris shrugs. "She just said to me that you're her best friend."

Charles couldn't explain why his heart momentarily stopped working, only to break into many pieces on the next beat. Although he had decided for himself not to let your relationship go any further than a friendship would allow, and the constant closeness and constant touching was certainly not exactly conducive to that, somewhere deep inside Charles had had a small spark of hope that perhaps something else could become of you at some point. 

But that spark had gone out. 

Charles avoided his oldest friend's gaze, staring into the blazing flames. Why did it hurt him so much? Wasn't that exactly what he wanted?

"Charles?" Joris tried to catch the Monegasque's gaze, but he stubbornly refused to look away from the fire. "Do you love her?" 

Charles didn't know whether it was the hot fire in front of him that was making his eyes water. He felt the drops burn on his lash line before he blinked and they rolled painfully down his cheek like acid. 

He didn't look at Joris. 

Best friend. Two words and a bitter aftertaste that stuck so disgustingly to his tongue when he said them to your face. They made his stomach ache and he would have liked to break away from you so he wouldn't have to endure it anymore. But he is your best friend. And he swore to himself that he would never hurt you again. So he can't help but endure this burning closeness, this torture of being with you but not being able to do anything. 

He fell asleep with you, body pressed against body, and he would endure that heat for all time if it meant you were safe. And even though he was aware of the fact that he was nothing more to you than your best friend, that didn't stop his heart from doing a little skip when he tried to break away from you to go jogging and you wrapped yourself around his arm. 

He blamed it on your tiredness, that you wanted to keep him there. That you weren't in your right mind when you reminded him that it was his suggestion to share a bed because it would help you sleep better, and then you kissed his bare chest. Kissed. 

His brain, which must have had a bit of a lapse as a result, didn't seem to be working properly when he admitted that he'd even said he'd always hold her in his arms. And it wasn't working properly when you wrapped your leg around his waist to pull him closer to you. It seemed like a miracle that he had finally managed to pull away from you and get dressed after all.

First the left sock, then the right. The shirt is on the -

When you wrapped your arms around him and called him Sharl, it was over. Something inside him had short-circuited. He's not even sure what exactly he said to you anymore. The only thing he remembers is how he pulled you onto his lap. How he hoped you'd give him a sign so he could give you back some of what he'd stopped dreaming about. 

And you moaned his name as he rocked you over his erection. Clinging to him like he was all you would ever need. Charles would have loved to throw you back on the bed - the bed you share as friends - and kiss you. He would have undressed you and let his mouth roam over your body, hoping that his touch would burn on your skin as much as yours burns on his. He would have devoured you, latching his mouth onto your pussy and tasting you until you came on his tongue. You would have clawed your fingers in his hair, rubbed your pussy against his mouth and moaned his name. And then he would have taken you, slowly at first so you'd get used to him, and meanwhile he would have kissed you so you could taste yourself on his tongue before he ruined you for any men who might come after him who weren't your best friend. 

But the only thing he could do was cup your chin and make you look at him while you moved back and forth on his hard-on yourself. He would never forget the look in your eyes, that pleading look as his cock bumped against your clit and lightning flashed through his veins, electrifying him. 

You begged him and he vowed to give you anything that would make you happy. And if that meant splitting you in half and making you come on his tongue, his fingers and his cock so many times until you couldn't remember his name or your own, he would have given it to you without hesitation.

And then his fucking phone rang.

He would have loved to slam it against the wall and kill Andrea for interrupting that moment. But when you slipped off his lap, he dressed quickly and his blood rushed back into his brain, he was even a little grateful. What if you had slept together and you hadn't wanted to be friends with him afterwards?

He was so happy when you reassured him that everything was fine between you. And he would have loved to hug you, but somehow it didn't seem right for him to be so close to you after you dry humped. So he let it go and went for a jog, relieved that Andrea had so much to talk about with him. 

The more he talked about Ferrari, his training and the upcoming trip, the less he had to think about you while running. 

But when he walked into the apartment with full shopping bags and Andrea in tow and saw you standing in the hallway all dressed up, all his blood went south again. The jeans that accentuated your every curve to the extreme and the top with a slight neckline that he wanted to pull over your head. 

The fact that Andrea had to leave quickly played into his cards and the fact that he had to take a shower was also ideal, because he wouldn't have been able to hide his boner, which was certainly visible through the shorts, for much longer. In the shower he had sorted the situation out, biting his lower lip as his hand closed around his cock, imagining it was yours. 

"Charles, please," your voice echoed in his mind, and in circumstances where he'd actually slept with you, he would have been ashamed of himself for coming within two minutes. But he felt better and was ready to look you in the eye again after imagining you pressing your tongue flat against the tip of his cock. 

What also helped him keep his blood where it belonged - in his brain - was leaving the bathroom and hearing his British friend's voice. 

He also doesn't know what got into him when he rested his chin on your shoulder to make it clear that you belonged to him. Which, by the way, is not true either. Only a short time ago, he had decided not to let this go any further than a friendship - so why did he feel the need to behave so possessively towards Lando - especially Lando?

Lando, who gave him a hard time for treating you badly. Lando, who Charles knows is only approaching you in a friendly manner because he knows how much you mean to the Monegasque. Lando, who saved your friendship when it was about to shatter into a thousand splinters?

But Charles couldn't help himself. Jesus, he even put his hand on your hip to signal that Lando should please keep his hands off you. Like a horny dog, he had needed to show that you were his. 

And now, as you sit next to each other in your old Renault, he has to clutch the steering wheel so that he doesn't get any ideas about indulging his addiction to your touch. He misses the heat that burns through his skin when you touch him. He doesn't even dare to look in your direction. 

He takes his hand off the gear stick and stretches out his fingers, which have clenched painfully around the plastic, almost steering the car off the road as you place your hand under his to intertwine your fingers. 

His whole body burns as you place your hands in your lap and play with his fingers like it's the most natural thing in the world. As if you weren't just best friends sharing an apartment. As if you hadn't dry humped just a few hours ago. And it takes all his strength not to stop at the next corner and fuck you in the tiny back seat of the car until your lungs are hoarse from screaming.

He concentrates on steering the car properly. He concentrates on the springs he can feel through the thin fabric of the seat. He concentrates on the cracks in the steering wheel that he can feel in his calloused hand.

Charles is so glad to be sitting in the rickety Renault again.

[featherandferns]

day 1/24 - obx christmas countdown

'I want you to know that I'm never leaving' - Sia, Snowman | angst-fluff | jj x fem!reader | keep track of the obx christmas countdown here!

You stir in the night cocooned in blankets. Groaning, you blink yourself awake and squint at the bedside table's alarm clock. The glaring digital letters read three a.m. With another grunt, you roll over and kick off some of the covers. As your eyes slip shut, your body moves to snuggle into JJ’s like a reflex. You always slept on the left of the small double and him on the right. More times than not, you’d end up with all the covers and him with none, but considering he ran like a boiler engine, it didn’t much bother him. But when your hand reaches out to splay on his warm bareback, you frown and open your eyes at the feel of soft cotton sheets. Weird. 

You shove the rest of the sheets off you with a huff. Kildare was warm enough during the days of December so long as you had a hoodie to hand, but at night, when the sun went to sleep, it cooled off. As you step across the creaking floorboards, you grab JJ’s hooded flannel and tug it on as an extra layer. The old house warns of your coming: aching doors and whining floors. It’s dark as you venture through the halls until there’s a cosy golden glow from the living room. One of the lamps is on. You poke your head into the room to find JJ staring out the window into the thick of the night. 

“Hey,” you broach quietly. He doesn’t jump. He must have heard you coming. 

“Hey,” he replies, just as quiet, not bothering to turn. You make your way over and take a seat by his side on the coach. The sleepiness still lingers in your bones so you rest your head against his arm. 

“How come you’re awake?” you wonder through a yawn. 

“Jus’ thinkin’,” he murmurs. Something about the way he says it tells you it isn’t entirely peaceful thoughts. It feels too early to pry and too late to question. You know JJ as well as any Christmas carol; he’ll tell you when he’s ready. “I hate Christmas, y’know?”

“Does one of the J’s in your name stand for Scrooge?” you try to joke. He chuckles silently, his body shaking softly against your cheek. The skin of his arm smells like shea butter soap and sandalwood. “I didn’t know you hated Christmas.”

“Not as much anymore. Just when I was a kid. Reminded me of all the stuff I didn’t have. I don’t know…Guess it made me angry,” JJ drawls. “I mean, you know that I didn’t have all that much growing up. Dad was never around and never made much effort. It just sort’a ended up being another day. Except…”

“Except it wasn’t?” you offer when his voice trails off. He hums. You nod. 

It’s hard to pass Christmas off as any other day when everything around you is screaming about how it’s so wonderful. The songs, the adverts, the windows, the houses, the movies, the people…All of it. It’s like insisting that you’re not hot whilst staring directly into the sun. 

“And I would just count down the days until it was January again and everyone would just shut the fuck up about it, y’know?”

You hum. He sighs and you glance up to see him hang his head. His blonde hair is shaggy from sleep and dangles in front of his eyes. Sitting up, you reach out a hand and comb it back for him. JJ’s eyes are heavy with tiredness when he looks at you. 

“We don’t gotta do anything for Christmas,” you tell him. Nodding your head towards the hall, at the other bedrooms, you add, “the others can do whatever they want but we can just do our own thing.”

JJ shakes his head, smiling smally. “You love Christmas.”

“Meh. I love lots of things,” you shrug with a smile and roll of your eyes. It was true, you did love Christmas, but you loved JJ far, far more. If celebrating was going to remind him of bitter days then you were more than happy to sit it out together. But JJ shakes his head again. 

“We don’t gotta skip it,” he tells you. Your brows tug together. He still sounds deflated, losing his usual glow like a crack in the most stunning tree bauble you’ve ever seen. It must be easy to read on your face, the concerned curiosity. Shaking his head, he looks back out the window. He rakes his hands through his hair. “It’s stupid.”

“Maybe. Tell me anyway.”

Laughing quietly, he takes a breath and closes his eyes. “I…I’m scared to celebrate Christmas with you.”

You frown and try your best not to be offended. “Oh?”

“I just…God, how do I fuckin’ use words…" JJ sighs again, aggravated, and rubs at his forehead. Then, he looks down at you. The anxiety in his eyes makes you want to cry. “Christmas didn’t mean anything to me until you showed up. And now that we’re finally a...we...Well, I guess I’m scared to actual enjoy Christmas cause what if it goes back to being just another day?"

You try to follow his words like footprints in snow. Nodding slowly, you think aloud. “So you’re saying, what if you let yourself enjoy it, and then we don’t make it, and you have memories about Christmas that are actually happy?”

Laughing, he smiles, shaking his head, a little disbelieving. “You can always read my Goddamn mind.” But the smile slips away into sadness. Tears rush to his waterline and your heart cracks. You’ve never heard his voice so feeble, so raw, when he admits, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

Your joy at cracking the riddle is short lived. Sitting up onto your knees, you reach for JJ’s hand and take it in yours. You squeeze, hard. “You're not going to lose me. I’m never leaving, a’right? Ever.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes, likely willing the tears away. “You don’t know that. Everybody leaves eventually."

“Hey,” you say, firmly, forcing his eyes open into yours. Nodding, sincerely, you affirm, “I mean it. I’m never leaving. You’re my home, JJ. All seasons round - not just Christmas.” 

The moment wraps around you like a blizzard. Your smile is shaky, eyes damp, voice thick as you confide in him. “You’re all I have too, JJ. The only thing that matters to me. The only thing that I truly, deeply, love.”

JJ exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a lifetime. His forehead gently bumps yours as he dips it. “What’d I do to get you?”

Smiling, you lift a hand to cup his jaw. On your thumb that rests on his cheek you feel a teardrop. You wipe it away. Nobody else saw this side of JJ. The quiet, tender, vulnerable side. The times that the child that hid inside of him, safe from his father’s reprimanding hand, crawled out into the glow of moonlight. You’d never let that privilege be forgotten. Pressing a kiss against his lips, short and sweet like peppermint candy, you shrug. 

“I think I'm the one that’s got the best gift of all.”

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 11 I know it's been forever. I finished my exam and then fell into an energy coma and did not get anything done. Sorry if this chaper is kinda disappointing but I'm trying to find my flow again with this; I gave it my best shot. These two still make me go insane. As always if I messed up readers description please tell me. I am merely a self indulgend human who is prone to mistakes. Part 10 | COD Masterlist | (Part 12)

Simon’s pretty sure he’s beet red under his helmet. Now that he’s making his way through traffic with your arms wrapped around him the previous interaction is catching up to him and he can’t believe he had the audacity to touch you like that.

Then again, you hadn’t objected. Maybe you’d just been too polite to shove his hand off. But you had grabbed it, held it too, maybe that moment hadn’t been as one sided as he feared (who is he kidding, why would an angel like you willingly touch a sinner like him).

He tries to shake the thoughts off, just being thankful that he got those precious moments forever seared into his memory.

Suddenly your arms are gone from around him and he almost gets worried until he realizes that you merely spread them to the side, wriggling your fingers trying to feel the wind. Before he can stop himself one of his hands finds your thigh and he gently grabs onto you, making sure you’re still there. His heart is beating so loudly he can feel it echo through his body, surely you can feel it through the thick gloves and pants, drumming against your skin, spelling his devotion in Morse code.

The fact that you don’t seem bothered by it in the least tilts the picture he had of you in his mind sideways. You’re wary, shy and scared without your dog, but not uncomfortable with casual physical touch and he’s incredibly thankful for it.

Simon’s not sure since when he’s someone who wants to casually touch others (he doesn’t, he only wants to touch you, he wants you to touch him too, wants you to wrap your hands around his throat and make him yours) but he wants to touch you. Preferably all day, every day.

He can feel himself short-circuit when your arms wrap around him again and your hands slowly stroke up and down his chest and stomach. Hopefully you can’t feel the way his heart tries to squeeze its way through his ribs to fall into your perfect hands.

Once again his chest swells with a warm thick feeling and he wants to tear his ribs open, carve out his heart and make a home for you in its stead. He wants to chain you to him so he won’t have to spend another second without you (okay, fucking weirdo, he should really get a grip on his thoughts).

It’s the best ride of his life with you pressed close to him and every now and then spreading your arms. He can even pretend you’re wrapping your arms around him out of want and not necessity. Maybe he can remember the feeling the next time he wakes up alone from a nightmare.

He thinks of your mutt, who gets to wake up to you every morning. Simon would sleep in a dog bed too if it meant he could be close to you like that.

The ride is over far too soon when he parks a few streets away from the venue. Immediately he holds out his hand for you to get off and you take it, putting your other hand onto his shoulder to stabilize yourself while you get off with ease.

You take of the helmet and gear. Simon can’t help but appreciate the view of you stripping something off, even if it is only the outermost layer. Immediately he admonishes himself for the path his thoughts take but he really can’t help it when you wriggle out of the gear and hand it to him to put it back in the cases.

“Ready?”, he asks you and your excited grin is almost infectious. Now that you’re near the concert hall you’re all restless buzzing energy. Most of it excitement but he can sense an underlying nervousness too.

Simon is sure that Wraith could have calmed you down in seconds. For a moment he almost misses the mutt, if only for how comfortable he makes you. Then he shakes it off. He’s here and he’ll take better care of you than the mutt. He’ll show you that there’s nothing to fear with him at your side.

Slowly he places one of his hands on your shoulder and your body stills. His eyes zero in on the way it looks so fucking big against you and he swallows dryly. Your eyes find his and he tries to reassure you through his body language alone, squeezing your shoulder to ground you.

You take a few deep breaths and then your hand comes up, reaching for his. He nearly chokes on his own saliva when instead of brushing him off, you take his hand in yours and bring it down so you can comfortably hold it.

“So we don’t get separated.”, you say softly while slight pink dusts your cheeks.

Oh.

Simon is so utterly fucked.

It takes all his willpower to just gently squeeze your hand instead of sweeping you off your feet so he can kiss you breathless and slip his tongue between your perfect lips, taste if you’re as sweet as you look (oh god, he should stop fantasizing about kissing you or he’s going to lose his mind).

He nods, like a normal person and manages answer without stumbling over his words. “Of course.”

It’s a throwback to the way you strolled through the park, but this time you initiated the contact and Simon might be floating instead of walking.

As you approach the concert hall more and more people join your direction and your eyes widen as you take in the crowds. Now you’re looking around a lot, scanning those closest to you as if you expect danger any moment now. It reminds Simon of a little meerkat on the lookout and he probably should not find it as endearing as he does.

He takes a deep breath and when he exhales a bit of calmness settles over him. It’s almost like a mission, when he thinks about it. Get you safely into the building, let you enjoy yourself and safely get you back. Stuff like that he can handle. Stuff like that he’s done before. Stressful situations are where he –

You step closer to him, your other arm coming up as well and now you’re damn near hugging his arm. Simon almost stumbles over his own feet but he catches himself and looks at your overwhelmed expression.

He extracts his arm from your almost hug and instead puts it around you, effectively pulling you into his side. He holds his breath for a second, afraid that any unnecessary movement may spook you (breathing is unnecessary when it comes to your comfort).

Instead of pulling away you seem to slightly relax and he continues leading you into the hall. When you enter you crane your neck to look around and then your eyes settle on Simon.

“I’ve never been to an event this big!”, you shout over the deafening sound of thousands of people having their own private conversations.

“Get ready to have your mind blown. Been to one of their concerts before. They’re bloody brilliant, sweetheart.”, he shouts back and once again you giddily hop in place a bit. This time he gets to feel the movement against his side and he fights himself to not crush you against him in his intense need to hold you closer.

He looks around, satisfied that he managed to herd you to the front row directly before the stage. After all you deserve nothing but the best experience and any regret he could have had for the people behind him that might have a slightly obstructed view, dies the second you beam up at him.

“Thank you, Simon.” You nearly squeal and he knows his eyes crinkle with the way he smiles so wide.

“Welcome, sweetheart.”

His own excitement is growing, not just at your anticipation but because he can’t wait for the music to start. His gaze is embarrassingly soft as he looks down at you, next to him and he fights the need to place his hand on your hips and pull you closer.

At least he knows that the hall will get so crowded that more physical contact between you two is inevitable and Simon will soak that up like a sponge that’s been dry for years.

[anundyingfidelity]

congrats first of all!!!! second of all can we have some butcher smut Please for the girls ?

thank you sm sweetieee <33 of courseee, my first billy butcher request! i love him lol hope i did him justice for this one, he's a very complicated character in my opinion haha this is soft, angsty smut with butcher for the girls😩🩷

event guidelines ✮ event masterlist ✮

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

DON'T GO — Billy Butcher x female reader

Word count: 477.

Genre: soft, angsty smut.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex.

The sound of his name, his real name, sweetly being pronounced with your voice was soothing and charming. For him, there wasn't any other than you who could have him swooning and dying for. He was addicted to all of you. To your moans, to your soft touch, how your nails would scratch his back as he fucked you slow and deep on your bed.

You bit back a loud whimper, his cock filling you up to the brim perfectly, focused on your pleasure rather than his own. Butcher wanted to see you squirm under him, to hear you cry his name once you came, so the only thing you had in mind was him.

And when he showed up that night at your door after months of no calls or visits, you cried. Then you slapped him in the face, and finally you hugged him tightly for disappearing so long. Butcher understood your reaction. He knew he deserved more than that, but yet here you were, with him hovering over your figure, spreading your legs, and kissing your lips to surpress your loud moans as he fucked you slow and passionate, like if you had all the time of the world to yourselves and give into each other.

"I love when you moan my name," he darkly mumbled against your neck, kissing and licking your skin, tasting the layer of sweat running down.

The contrast of his voice, his rough hands feeling every inch of your skin in the most delicate way would always get you amazed. Your hands moved to cup his cheeks and you pulled him for a wet kiss, rolling your tongue between his lips as he bucked his hips. You let out a moan against his mouth when one of his digits found your clit, rubbing you painfully slow.

"I fucking missed you," you gasped, breaking the kiss, feeling you were almost reaching that sweet high. "Oh, shit, I'm so close..."

"Fuck, I've missed you too, luv," he breathed out, giving you a particular hard thrust that forced another sweet sound from your throat.

He knew you were close. His raspy voice praised and encouraged you to let go. He wanted nothing more but to feel you cum around him. And when your walls clenched and your whole body began to tremble, he increased his own rhythm to get to heaven with you.

You sealed your love for him with a desperate kiss, not ever wanting to let go.

"Don't go like that again," you whispered.

Butcher caressed your cheek, taking in your beauty after the bliss of the reunion you had. He knew he had to leave again. That his world was too dangerous for you. But he was too much of a fool to admit it to you and break your heart, and instead he decided to lie.

"I won't."

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Intro🔞

Unrequited love can be oh-so painful, especially as a hopeless romantic like Jeon Jungkook. You're supposed to just momentarily soothe his aching heart and take his mind off of things- but something about you just draws him in...

Tags/Warnings: Punk!Jungkook, strangers to lovers, Stereotypes, description of Unrequited love, romance, accidental flirting, some angst, major fluff, smut

Length: 2k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: this was supposed to be an angsty oneshot. Thanks to @euphoricfilter I decided to make it a softer series instead.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook doesn't really know you. 

He knows that you don't like wearing pants, which is why you wear a simple cotton dress tonight despite the weather outside. You layered a sweater over it, and you wear fluffy overknee socks and boots- everything cute, a little oversized, giving you an overall soft appearance. He also knows that you don't really want to be here, that you accompanied a friend but that she went to make out with some boy she had her eyes on the entire night. And he knows your age, your name, and that you have a very nice voice. 

A voice currently whimpering against his ear, as he holds your thighs to keep you propped up against the wall while he thrusts his hips into you. He didn't really think much of it when you suggested this, and he definitely didn't think much of it when he agreed- after all, looks are just looks, down the line, and just because you don't look the part doesn't mean you can't be a little wild. 

What he did not expect was for you to turn out to taste so sweet- the entire ordeal of just a quick fuck feeling like something much more than he's used to. You're supposed to just take his mind off of his long time crush currently probably getting railed in the car outside- and you're doing much more than that. 

It’s like you’re giving him something entirely new to think about. Like you’re someone capable of filling her place in his head. 

Your hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into his leather jacket. The warm skin of your thighs, feeling just so good in his hands. And not to mention that clench of your core around his length, making him feel sensitive even despite the condom he wears. 

"What if you just find someone else, too?" You'd wondered at him at the bar earlier, cheek a little squished as you rested your face on one of your hands, looking at him. "She clearly doesn't want you from what I can tell. So stop pining after someone who doesn't see you." You'd boldly stated, throwing the bucket of cold water over his head- shaking him awake, in a way, because no one's really put it out in the open like that to him up until you. It's tough to hear it, but it's the truth- and you're right. 

He needed a distraction. And you seemed to be the perfect opportunity. 

Lucy had always kept him close- dangling him from a string in front of her heart, never letting him reach it- because it had always been closed off, her interest more in what she could gain from him, and not what she could give him as well. She clearly only really kept him close so he could do things for her- help her move, build up furniture, take care of her cat multiple times a week, even buy her things. Jungkook paid for her rent for half a year- simply because he wanted to show her that he was in it with a full and honest heart. 

He wanted her to see him. But just like you said, she doesn't. Because she doesn't want to see him. She doesn't want him. 

"And where would I find someone else?" Jungkook had asked, eyes finding yours as you'd shrugged. 

"Can't promise you a mind-blowing experience-" You'd told him, one of your legs moving forward to playfully kick his boot. "-but I'm right here." 

And right here you are. 

You smell really nice- he realizes that as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, your skin flushed and hot against his lips. He's not sure why he feels almost guilty taking you like this- you seem more like someone who deserves a romantic date night and then a good long slow-fuck in an actual bedroom, not some underground club storage room. You're currently single, and he knows that from you as well, but he's sure that you won't have any trouble finding someone in the near future. 

Though the thought of it makes him a little.. Upset, almost. Jealous? 

"You close?" He growls into your neck, and you simply nod in response, making him chuckle. You seemed so nonchalant about the whole thing, but you're actually kind of cute in this moment. He's, despite his looks, not one to usually do these kinds of things- he's a romantic, even if it's more of an unconventional one. He craves something real and authentic, something that knocks the breath out of his lungs and swallows his heart whole.  

Huh. 

Maybe under different circumstances, you could've been just that for him. He can imagine falling for you if you'd met sooner, or in a different situation- you seem very nice, with a laid back personality added to it. Your pretty face and pretty body is just an added bonus- and he feels a bit disappointed knowing he'll never see you fully nude.

What could you be hiding underneath those clothes? 

For sure something to be worshipped, a body meant to be made love to and not this right now. But you're already at the end, as he bites his lips and pushes you over the edge, your fingers clawing at his leather jacket as you weakly whimper out in pleasure, his own high a lot softer than yours. That doesn't mean it's any less fulfilling- in fact it's a pretty damn good one, drawn out, making the muscles in his thighs stutter a bit as he holds you up for a bit longer, before he slowly sets you back down to your feet.  

You avoid looking at him now. He wonders if you regret it.  

But is that really any of his business? 

"Okay?" He asks, much to his own surprise as he helps you stand, music dull, bass almost the only thing you can both hear as he strips the condom off and finds some tissues to clean himself up- giving some to you as well. You take them silently, and clean yourself up, watching him throw everything into a trash bin nearby. It's only now that you seem to take a look around the small storage room you're both in, before you pull up your underwear, cringing at the odd feeling in your legs. "You good?" Jungkook chuckles- but you still don't look at him, simply nod before you seem to adjust yourself. How do you really feel about this? 

It's none of his business. So why does he feel like it is?  

"Do you.. I don't know, do you want me to drive you home?" He wonders. "If your friend isn't back, I mean." He adds, and you shrug.  

"Yeah." You tell him almost indifferently, before he nods, and leads you back outside, music suddenly loud and clear again. "but.. I think I can see here over there." You mumble, as Jungkook adjusts the back of your clothes for you, something he didn't even notice doing until his hands were already on you. There's something.. odd about you. A strange attraction, almost.  

He's not sure if it's just post-sex-attachment, or if it's genuine interest.  

“She seems awfully... occupied though.” Jungkook chuckles, watching together with you how she pretty much doesn’t seem to care that she’s basically getting undressed by the guy on the dancefloor. “I’ll wait with you at the bar if you’d like.” He suggests, and you shake your head, visibly disappointed.  

“No.” You deny. “Just..” You pull your little bag a little tighter over your shoulder. “..I changed my mind. Take me home, please.” You ask without looking at him, and he nods quietly, a hand on your shoulder leading you outside.  

His car is a little old, but the interior is clean and smells nice. He instantly turns the heat on, making sure you’re comfortable, radio playing quietly in the background while you click your phone into the holder, the navigation app having started to show him the journey to your home. “Oh? We don’t live that far apart.” He notices, as he pulls out of the parking lot in front of the club. “I live near the subway station, where that weird store is. The one where that old lady sells healing crystals and shit like that.” He attempts to smalltalk, and you nod.  

“Yeah, I know that one.” You answer. “My mom used to be friends with the woman that owns the shop..” You shrug.  

“Oh, cool.” He offers. “I don’t really believe in that stuff, but each their own.” He tells you.  

“I don’t believe in it either.” You admit. “But my mom does, so I just.. Pretend I do. I don’t like to fight with her.” You say, looking out the window to see it starting to rain a little.  

“You seem like someone who doesn’t like arguments.” He chuckles. “Which is a compliment, by the way.” He makes sure to underline. “Can I ask why you.. Seem so sad right now?”  

“Sure you can.” You say, before you look back at your hands in your lap. “It’s.. She does it a lot. My friend, I mean.” You admit, before you sigh. “I feel like she’s just.. I don’t know. Like I’m just a placeholder, good enough when there’s no one else around.”  

“Hm, I get what you mean.” He answers. “Some people are shit like that. My mom used to marry and divorce like she was aiming for a world record.” He laughs easily, stopping at a red light. “Some people just can’t be alone. It eats them up- so they take whatever company they can, and love too easily.” Jungkook explains.  

“But where’s the love in that?” You mumble almost too quiet for him to catch, looking out the window again where two children run through the rain after what you believe might be their mother holding a yellow umbrella.  

“For some, that’s love.” He shrugs. “It’s different for anybody. My definition of love probably is different from yours, and that’s fine too.” He offers.  

“I don’t even know.. What it is.” You sigh, defeated in your tone. “I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like.”  

“You’ll know when it happens, trust me.” He tries to lift your mood. “Maybe we can.. I don’t know. Stay in touch, hang around together. I promise I might look like it but I’m not involved in any drug-related drama.” He laughs. “But all you need might just be a good friendgroup, a nice social circle. And I promise my friends are all cool, even though they’re all guys. They’re all in relationships- well, apart from me, but you know why that issue exists.” He chuckles.  

“You shouldn’t let her use you anymore, you know?” You say quietly, as the surrounding area outside the car becomes familiar. “You’re.. Too nice for someone like that.” You say, as he parks in front of the apartment building your phone exclaims is your destination of choice. You reach over to take your phone from the plastic holder, when you notice Jungkook watching you intently, before he speaks.  

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, and you look at him with wide eyes, interior lights of his car reflecting in them, making him even more eager to find out how it’ll feel like if you gave him the chance. You shrug, before you nod, visibly confused, while his eyes roam around your face, as if they can’t decide what feature of yours to focus on.  

Everything looks too magical right now. Like some cheesy romantic drama.

He’s not sure if he likes it or not.  

But as his hand reaches out to help angle your face right to place his lips against yours, he’s surely enough made his decision, sweet lipbalm of yours fruity on his tongue as he fails to keep his cool, leaning over further, both of your eyes closed as you get lost in the whole action- though he finally has to break free, the moment enough to cut the spell you both have been under.  

“Well fuck me.” He starts to laugh. “Now I’ll definitely need your number.” he jokes, as he takes out his phone to do just that, your fingers typing in the numbers of your phone, your heart still racing in your chest.

All while his words keep repeating in your head.

'You'll know when it happens, trust me.'

[filmtv2022]

Your Fate Is My Own

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Reader

Synopsis: The reader finds herself trapped in the shadow of her brothers, Geta & Caracalla. When General Marcus Acacius returns to Rome at the behest of the emperors, she is forced to face the very person she thought she'd lost forever.

Warnings: Kiss(es) + some swearing + period-appropriate expectations of women.

A/N: So to be fucking for real... I have no idea if this story complies with the plot of the movie or what actually happened in history. I have some working knowledge of Roman history, but I wasn't too pressed about getting things "right" for this story. If that bothers you... just move on. I wanted to focus on an interesting relationship backstory between the reader and Marcus. If you guys like this and/or I feel like it, there is the possibility I'd write more for these two (probably after watching the movie here in a couple of weeks.) As always, all mistakes are my own, forgive me!

Also... just to clarify... the reader may be a bit younger than Marcus, but she is meant to be read as far closer in age to him than to her brothers (older sister). Writing for large age gaps is something I'm NOT comfortable with and did NOT incorporate in this story.

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Echoed voices traversed the cavernous halls of the palace, greeting you long before the men to whom they belonged reached the marble and gold gilded room you inhabited. Perhaps it would have been prudent to stand, to adjust the layers of your flowing cotton dress, or even to consider in any way your appearance ahead of such a meeting with your illustrious guest, but no part of you could find it within yourself to care. Not when more pressing matters weighed heavily on your mind. 

Wood groaned under the brutish touch of the emperors’ posse. The guards that constantly flanked them entered the room first, posting themselves near the windows and door, their faces stoic or bored, more likely the latter considering the vapid tirade of shit flowing from Geta's mouth. The wine was bitter against your tongue, burning the delicate skin of your throat with each sip. A haze had settled over your limbs, leaving them heavy and your tongue loose. 

Your brother’s diatribe continued unchecked even as his guest’s attention waned. The General’s armor-clad chest practically gleamed in the flowing torchlight. The world seemed to move and sway around the trio, their power and might on display, but there was a difference to be sure. Geta’s slight frame held no weight,  and yet every ear turned to him, every hand either sought to please him or to protect him. Caracalla was somehow even less imposing, his attention to Geta so fervent it bordered on the obscene. The same could not be said for the General. His mere presence in the space filled it to the breaking point. Energy, passion, and intelligence poured off of him, setting those around on edge, wondering about his next step. His attention was rightly divided between the twittering men beside him, the guards stationed around him, and strikingly, the addition of your presence before him. 

The soft swish of your dress as you stood was lost in the chaos of the moment, but your words were not. They were out of your mouth before their implication could be considered, something you’d likely pay dearly for later. 

“Marcus Acacius.” The room stopped, and footfalls drew silent as every eye fell on you, now standing beside the head of the table. “How lovely to see you! " Thinly veiled disgust and temperament sharpened each word.

“It’s General, dear sister. Address him properly or I fear I must ask you to leave.” Geta’s voice grated at your nerves but now was not the time. 

“Do not pretend any of you wish for my company, but I shall do my best to acquiesce to the niceties you desire.” A sly smile turned the corner of your lips as you addressed the statuesque figure beside Geta. “General Marcus Acacius, how are you finding the Rome you’ve so diligently protected? I’m sure my brothers have spared no expense in treating you to our finest. One can only hope it's been enough to cover up the stinking pile of shit that festers in the heart of this city.” 

“Sister!” Geta snapped, spittle flying from his lips as he scolded.

“Brother.” You paid him only momentary attention, just long enough to freeze his protests before turning back to the General. “You’ve yet to answer to me, General? Don’t tell me the great warrior's afraid to speak his mind.” 

Hesitant, he searched for the words he hoped wouldn’t further inflame the situation,  and fell short, “It has been adequate.” 

“Adequate.” You couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that tumbled from your lips, “Just adequate? You mean to tell me that the blood sport of the arena doesn’t hold the same allure as it once did? But I mean how could it after all those years spent traipsing about in carnage? Burning and bloodying foreign lands all for a scrap of glory. I'm sure nothing can compare to that.”

Caracalla grumbled, but his words were stilled by Marcus’ subdued response, “You disagree with the expansion of Rome?” 

“What I do or do not agree with is of little importance.” Reaching for the decanter of wine, you sloshed more into the empty crystal glass that sat perched before you. 

“But you do? Disagree that is?” He held your gaze, searching for something in your eyes while divulging nothing of his own feelings. 

“Those are your words, not mine.” Clearing the edge of the table, wine in hand, you stepped closer to your brothers and their esteemed guest. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I believe it is time for me to retire for the evening.” With only your eyes, you met Marcus', the soft brown of his seemed to glow, “General.” 

“My lady.” 

With no further words of departure, you left the room stunned to silence. There would most certainly be hell to pay for the way that conversation had gone, but that was indeed a problem for later. 

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

The inky blackness of the night sky and shadowed land blended seamlessly into the horizon. Free from the burden of the public eye, you luxuriated in the gentle breeze that wafted through the open balcony door. Below the soft murmur of voices had given way to the occasional clatter of armor as the guards settled into their usual spots, for no matter your differences Geta would be damned if you were left unprotected. Sadly, and to his lack of understanding, the guards he’d so carefully chosen had a deep penchant for showing up to their watch three sheets to the wind. 

You couldn't be sure of the hour,  but it had been quite some time since you’d made your exit. Greeting the General with words of derision hadn't been the anticipated outcome and still, you felt no qualms about it. For the General was astute in his assumption, you did disagree with the expansion of Roman territory. For Rome was long past the point of needing more and the conquest had become one merely for the purpose of appearances. How better to convince the world of your prowess than to eliminate the threat of opposition? Ply them with entertainment, blind with enthusiastic and unbridled patriotism, and pray to the gods no one noticed the foundation crumbling beneath them. That was the plan, tenuous and strained though it was. 

Laying back upon the pillows, their silk coverings ran cool against your wine-flushed skin. The weight of your frame pressed into the bed below, forming to your curves and hugging you tightly. It was glorious and yet it was a comfort you knew too many hardworking and loyal Romans would never experience. The safety of a warm room and a bed for rest, without a care or thought as to where their next meal would come from. It seemed unfair that you, of all people, should have so much when so many did more with far less.  But that was never to be your lot, fighting for Rome, for the poor farmer, for those who were the backbone of society. No, there'd never be a place for you to do that. Instead, you found yourself resigned to a life behind closed doors, seen and not heard when in public, and entirely ignored in private.  

A quiet knock sounded across the room, snapping your eyes open and pricking at your nerves. The ever-present danger that lurked within the inner circle left you cautious, but when a second knock met your ears it removed the choice of inaction. The marble was chilled beneath your bare feet, sending a silent shiver down your spine. At the door, you pressed your ear to the wood, listening for any sign of distress beyond. Hearing nothing, you cracked the barrier and took in your surroundings. 

No longer dressed in his formal attire, General Marcus Acacius stood no less formidable than before, and yet the lines beside his eyes told of the bone-deep exhaustion that weighed him down like a heavy trading ship caught in a violent storm. 

“General Acacius. If you are looking for my brothers they are not here. And at this hour it is likely that are… otherwise engaged.”

“It is not them I seek.” His demeanor remained that of a battle-trained soldier, calm and collected.

“I see.” Turning away, you stepped back into the room leaving the door open behind you while closing those that marked the balcony. Marcus took that as an invitation to enter the space, closing the door behind him, and stopping just beyond it.  With your back still to him, you continued to speak, “Then how may I be of assistance? For we've already established I have not the eyes nor the ears of the Emperors. And as unfortunate as it may be, the senate has their heads so far up their own asses I fear the only thing they can see is the putrid brown of the Tiber during a flood.”

“Drop the act.” Marcus struggled against his instinct and remained glued to his spot. 

“There is no act, Marcus.” You snapped back to face him, your jaw clenched with every word. “There is only a role which must be fulfilled. And as thankful as I am to the gods for only time parting us and not death, I'm afraid you no longer have a part to play in my story.”

“Don't do this.” His voice was even, unfazed despite the swell of emotion that barreled toward the surface. 

“Do what? Speak the truth?” Your stomach flipped, sending bile burning in your throat. The General’s brows knitted together, sharing barely a fragment of his pain, but it was enough for you to see the war he waged inside.

“Push me away.” And with that, his steadfastness broke. Quick and powerful steps brought him to you, his broad hands falling to your waist and cheek, tipping your face to his and pleading for you to listen. 

“I am not the one who left, remember that.” The bridge of your nose burned and wetness pooled at the corners of your eyes, blurring the stunning vision of the man before you. “I am not the one who has stayed away all these years.”

“There was no choice! They told me to go and I went. If I’d refused… they would’ve-” 

“Killed you, I know, and I fault you not for it. And yet that changes nothing of what I've said. ” Your forehead dropped to the center of his chest as his sure fingers threaded through your hair, cupping the back of your head. Reaching for him, your fists twisted in the front of his tunic. The maroon fabric was soft to the touch, but it was the heady scent of him that filled your senses forcing the tears from your eyes. “I cannot be your Marcus, not in the way that is desired. We cannot do this, fall back into each other’s arms, and pretend as if nothing has changed. You are here to appease the Emperors and I am… I am nothing more than a pawn to be owned and then put into play at the right time.”

With every ounce of gentleness he could muster, Marcus lifted your face to his. The timber of his whisper traveled gracefully to your broken heart, “No matter what they desire, you are no one’s property for they cannot steal the wonder that is your loving heart and tenacious mind. Rome would be a far better place if people such as yourself were given the space and power to make it so.” 

His calloused thumb brushed tender arcs along the high point of your cheek. Trapped in his gaze, your voice quivered, “And Rome is better with you as her General. Never forget the kindness in your heart, Marcus. That desire to protect those in need. They’ve tried to twist you into something brutish and lowly, but they do not know the goodness that runs deep within you. May the gods never let them steal it.” 

The silence that fell between you was heavy with desire, and unspoken need, for words were not enough. Knowing this and throwing all caution to the wind, Marcus brought his lips to yours. The embrace was slow and passionate. Drinking in the taste of you, his lungs hitched at the feeling of your hands on his body moving along the broad expanse of his chest.  You toyed delicately with his tunic, memorizing the feel of him beneath the thin fabric that separated you. A deep grumble reverberated in his chest, sending shivers down your spine. Only the distant sounds of heavy footfalls broke the pair of you apart. 

With chest heaving, Marcus rested his brow against yours. The warmth of his breath drifted over your face, comforting you in the wash of emotions that battered in the wake of your shared embrace. Sensing the moment waning, you spoke the truth you’d feared to share but knew could mean the difference between life and death. “Hear me Marcus, do not trust them. Move with them only so far as is necessary. You are nothing more to them than a means to an end, listen not to their praises and promises. Your fate rests squarely in the hands of men who care little whether you live or die.” 

The General swallowed hard, catching his breath before he replied, “I hear you. And I promise you, from my lips to the gods, I will fight to stay by your side if you’ll have me. I am yours for as long as fate will allow. No more running. No more putting glory above all else. I made the mistake of leaving you behind, and there is no future in which I intend to make that mistake over again.” 

“Your fate is my own. If you burn, I burn with you.” Once again you found each other, your lips working in perfect synchronization. For now only the power of the gods could stop the pair of you. Together you’d face the tempest and weather the storm for the hope of a brighter tomorrow stood just beyond its shadows.

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

Insecurity

Summary: you finally address the elephant in your and Lucifer's relationship, his ring.

!!!Proofread but I was half awake when doing so!!!

Both you and Lucifer were a match made in heaven, or more literally hell. Lucifer had proven his love for you time and time again. You made sure to do the same. For the past few years, both of you proved to be perfect for the other. But there was one thing that kept making you doubt.

The gold ring he’s had on his finger for centuries.

You get it- you really do! Being married to someone for so long, having a kid with them, then them ditching you not even leaving behind a note, that is not easy to get over. And you are not going to force him to take it off.

 But it did hurt. It hurt to feel it every time you held hands. A painful reminder of his past lover that he wasn’t ready to let go of despite being with you. You didn’t want to hide your feelings from him but you also didn’t feel it was your place. You didn’t want to ruin your relationship, but keeping your feelings a secret was getting harder and harder. 

“Hey, darling, can we talk… like in private? In my room.” Lucifer suddenly asked you one day.

“Oh, sorry Luci, but I’m not in the mood right now.”

“Huh? What- Oh! Oh no no no no! That’s not what I meant. I want to talk-talk” He clarified. 

“Oh okay then.” You hopped off the couch that you were sitting on. You followed him to his room. 

The king cleared his throat before talking, “What's been bugging you these past few days?” 

You faltered, “Nothing.” As Lucifer cocked his eyebrow you knew that the lie wasn’t going to fool him, not that it ever had a slight chance of working. You bite the top layer of skin on your lip. 

“Listen, I'm not going to try to make you do anything… But your ring. From Lilith, just I don’t know- worries me? Like if she came back would you break up with me without a second thought? Do you love her more than me?” The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could think. Tears fell down your face as you talked.

Lucifer just looked at you. Fuck fuck fuck. You turned around and left. You shut yourself in your room and just stared at the wall, going over everything, everything you could have done differently. 

The next day Lucifer nervously talks to you. You sort of wished he’d just magically forget your guy's talk.

“I’m sorry.” That wasn’t what you were expecting, “I’m not past Lilith… I don’t know if I ever fully will be. But please don’t doubt my love. I would never pick her over you. She’s hurt me, hurt Charlie. I love you now.” He inhaled “want to do better for both of us.” He presented his hand, the ring still on his finger, “I don’t think I can do it, will you?”

You froze for a second before pulling the ring off, it gave a bit of resistance, a testament to how long it was there. You hugged Lucifer. This wasn’t going to fix everything, like he said he might never fully move past Lilith, but it's a start.

[prettyoatmeal]

Hey there! I'm new to your work, but I love reading through it so much. I don't know if it's already been done, but could you do a part two of the pegging request with a few of the others (ex: König, Keegan, Roach, Alejandro, etc.)? I notice you do a lot of 141, so I didn't know if you wrote others. Just thought I'd ask. ^^

CoD Charatcers and How They'd React to Reader Asking to Peg Them (König, Keegan, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria)

Warning!! nsfw, mdni, pegging, afab reader in mind using a strap, heavy dom/sub tropes, slight exhibitionism. A/N: Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't write one for König, but his time is now.. then plus some. Hi guys!! Its nice to see you again after a month (????)!!!

Part 2 to this.

Masterlist here!

***************

König I think would just be super confused at first. Not because he's against it, but because he's never thought about it before and is genuinely curious why and you'd find pleasure in that. He's supposed to be doing the fucking..? Why are you...? ...?!?!?!? And he's just scratching his head. But nevertheless, he agrees because he thinks he'd enjoy it though he can't help but be a little embarrassed because he's getting folded in half by his smaller partner.

Unlike Gaz or Soap, you'd need to be very gentle with him. He's a little bit tense when starting out. The lube is cold, the feeling of your fingers in him is unfamiliar, he wasn't used to bottoming like this. But he trusts you, so he isn't against spreading his legs for you.

Very quickly becomes very whiney once you start hitting against that perfect spot inside him. You feel him jolting a little, letting out a gasp and you know you got it.

His thighs squeeze around your sides, calves resting along your hips as you thrust into him with your bright pink strap. You thought it would've been awkward, not expecting the size difference and power difference to combine well, but it did. He keeps you close, his lips on yours at all times until he eventually buries his face into you neck only to moan and whine and cry into your skin.

All in all, it's sweet. He was definitely taken aback with just how much he enjoyed it, craving more and more from you.

"Schatz, p-please. Need more."

So you do the ol' reliable, placing a pillow under his hips, angling your hips just right. And it begins to drive him crazy. His pretty eyes roll back, his lips parted as he moans out your name over and over and over again like a mantra. His cock leaking like a faucet, his tip an angry red and begging for attention, a shiny layer of sweat covering both of you as your hips slap against his ass over and over again.

And it isn't long until he cums untouched, his back arching into the bed as he pulls you into a kiss and moans into your mouth.

**

Keegan is at I've seen characterised as a freak fr so I feel like he'd be similar to Gaz. If anything, he'd want you to fuck his brains out spontaneously.

He's very much the type to purposefully rile you up just so you'd end up pushing him up against the wall, or even tugging him by his collar to the nearest unisex bathroom. He can't help it! He's a massive slut for his lover. Therefore it's always a good idea to keep a strap on you where ever you go with him.

If you don't have any lube around, he's very adamant of you shoving your fingers into his mouth to slick them up. Maybe he'll even bite them a little just so you deliver a slap on his cheeks.

There's really no telling when he wants to stop pushing you. He'll actively fuck himself back on your fingers when they're inside him, going against anything you're telling him just so you be rougher with him. All in all, his main goal is for you to fuck him like you hate him.

With barely any prep, he lets out long whine at the first thrust inside him, wanting nothing more than to be used by you. One hand on his cheek pressing him into the wall, the other gripping at his hip as he arches his back into you.

"G-God, fuck. Harder, please!"

He's gets so vocal, barely able to keep his moans back. Lets out the sluttiest moans as he finally reaches down to quickly jerk himself off, spilling his load over the wall.

Definitely asks you to be rougher next time. He wants you to put him in a chokehold, wrap your hand around his throat and restrict airflow, bend him over and press his face into the bed, make him beg for mercy. Certified freak 7 days a week!!! Let's just hope you're ready to do all the chores around the place for the next couple of days because there's no way he'll be getting up without a stabbing pain in his ass.

**

Roach is really just a blank canvas character, someone that was created for people to insert themselves into his shoes. So with that being said, I'd think he's into it. Nuff said.

You wouldn't need to do all too much to get him to submit. If he's a blank canvas, then I'll make him into a masterpiece. First time with him would be the first time he's getting pegged, period. Unlike König who's a little tense, Keegan or Gaz who are a little too into it, Roach is a neutral.

It's easy to bend him over, press your hands down on him to keep his back arched like a cat, knead his plump ass a little bit. It's so cute that he'll take whatever you give him. Whether you're rough with him making him whine and cry, slapping his ass and spitting on him as you give him no prep, or coaxing sweet moans from him and praising him as you slowly push your slick fingers into his tight hole.

He starts getting so desperate, wanting nothing more than to beg for you to finally fill him as you press the tip of your strap. He wants to push himself back against it, his cock rock solid, dripping with his pre just at the thought of it. But he's too much of a good boy to do so.

So when you finally fill him with a quick thrust, it makes him go dizzy.

He's a real sight for sore eyes; ass in the air, your hands holding him arched and in place, his eyes fluttering closed as he buries his face into the bedsheets below him, the prettiest moans escaping his lips. Soft and breathy, his voice breaking every time you slam against his prostate. He's not as vocal, but there's no denying the sweet noises that are forced from his throat with every thrust.

He's such a sweet boy, completely melting into the bed as you lean down, a wide smile on his lips as you press kisses against the back of his neck.

"Please, please, please, please, please!"

He'd beg as you finally reach down to give his throbbing dick attention. He's definitely saying thank you after he makes a mess of the bedsheets.

**

Alejandro is another one where I don't see him enjoying it all too much. He prefers to do the actual fucking rather than getting fucked. He'll fuck you like it's his last day on earth, giving you the most mind shattering orgasms known to man. He's definitely a BDSM guy for sure, a rope bunny while at it. But when the tables turn, he's unsure about it. He really doesn't believe it's something he would enjoy.

Alejandro is proud of his masculinity, maybe he has too much pride, but being in a place of submission like that is embarrassing to him.

He'd feel awkward being in a place without control over himself which is why I feel the most he'll allow you to do is use your fingers.

Lubing your fingers up, he'll allow you to bend him over once, just once, and only to try it out. Safe word in mind, he caves and lets you bend him over the counter.

"No funny business." Out of everyone on the list, Alejandro is definitely the most hesitant.

Tensing up as you push a finger in, he almost backs out. But knowing how adamant you were about him trying out something new, he makes up his mind and lets you do your thing because he's thinking that just maybe he'll enjoy it.

Like every instance, you curl your fingers to press against his spongey prostate and he jolts in surprise. Hearing a barely audible, low 'fuck' coming from his mouth, you curl your fingers again only to be met with a whiney moan.

"Is that a good fuck or a bad fuck?"

"Good... good fuck, god, please keep going."

Jackpot.

It isn't long until he's jerking himself off, pushing himself back onto your fingers. He doesn't want the feeling to end, though he regains some of his dignity during his post-nut clarity.

"Maybe we can do that more often.. if you want to.."

**

Rudy is a tricky one for me. I'm not that much of a Rudy stan to have an opinion on him + pegging. But I've seen him characterised as a sweeter and more reserved lover. I feel he'd be more like Ghost. He'll take your fingers, maybe a vibrator, but he definitely isn't ready for your strap right off the bat.

He'll ask you to be gentle, face flushed and looking away as you slowly push a finger in him. Curling your fingers in just the right spot would make him let out an embarrassingly loud moan, looking away, his face flushed. Taking advantage of this, his eyes roll back as you abuse the hell out of his poor sweet spot. The feeling is new and strange but oh god, it feels so good. It's immediately too much for him, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he cums so quickly just from your fingers alone.

Switching over to a vibe would elicit the most humiliating noises from him. It's so cute because he'll beg and beg for you to go easy on him, his poor tip flushed and red as you overstimulate him. Torturing him as you press the vibrator against that perfect spot inside him, coaxing him to another shameful orgasm, precum running down the underside of his shaft as he thrusts his hips into the air, it drives him completely mental.

"P-Please! It's too m-much!"

"I'm not hearing red." and he gets so flustered, he's burying his face in his hands.

But red never leaves his mouth, this thighs clamping around your hand as he spills a second, third, maybe fourth load all over his tummy, but that's only if you haven't drained him for all he's got. He might just let you peg him next time.

**

Valeria is all for it. A girl has needs, sometimes a girl just needs to be filled with a strap, and she is A-okay with that. Val knows what she wants and she knows she's going to get it.

Power play is a massive thing with her. So even if you're the one gripping the back of her knees and slamming into her, he won't hesitate to remind you she's in charge.

She'll allow you to lay her down, slowly undress her, spread her legs. She'll let you fill her with your strap, make her moan under you as you hit all the right spots inside her. But you're not leaving her without the pure filth that escapes from her mouth between her heavy breaths.

"Always making me feel so good, sweet thing."

"No, you don't get to stop. I don't care if you're getting tired, this is what you wanted."

"Fucking into me like a bitch in heat."

"Pussy drunk slut for me."

"F-Fuck.. mmh, d-don't stop."

She tends to get a dirty mouth when she's close, almost begging you to rub her clit for her until she gives in an does it herself. You can't blame her, you just didn't respond fast enough!

But it's not enough for her until her legs wrap around your hips, forcing you as deep as possible as she squeezes around the strap and cums around it with a long moan.

After that, she gives you no time to react. You're getting pushed back onto the bed while she returns the favour until you're begging her to stop from sensitivity. But that's okay, because that's what she likes.

***************

After finishing this, I've realised I've put a lot more effort into this one than the 141 one.. whoopsies 😭

*************** DISCLAIMER Under no circumstances do I give permission to copy, repost, or manipulate my work in any way. I am not comfortable with this. If you wish to translate my work, message me privately. My inbox is always open.