#if they look innocent enough for long enough

[buckyalpine]

I LOVE what you wrote for the other ideas!!

This is kind of a dialogue prompt

Reader says something like, "do you know how many times I've imagined you fucking me on this desk?"

Maybe she's sitting on Bucky's lap while she works on a mission report or something for the team. Since Bucky hasn't seen reader in a bit, he is being needy and handsy trying to distract her. (Cue cockwarming?)

Eventually, reader slams the laptop shut and puts it away before she says that line. Bucky just like

Sweeps EVERYTHING off desk

(I'm so sorry for the long ask) much love❤️❤️

Not me answering this 2 years later but I'm weaaaak for the lip bite and this idea, immediate yes (and by immediate I mean I know I took forever, I'm so sorry, also I love you)

-

"I missed you so much baby" Bucky purred in your ear, hoisting you up by your hips to wrap your legs around his waist as soon as you stepped off the jet. You'd been gone for over a month in those 4 weeks, Bucky had been nothing but a pouty puppy, waiting for you to come back. None of the missions he went on were enough of a distraction, all he wanted was his perfect angel back in his arms and he finally had you.

"Missed you too, bub" You giggled at his scruffy beard tickling your neck as he nuzzled into your skin, carrying you off for some much needed cuddles. "I already showered and changed but I just have to finish my mission report and then I'm all yours"

You pecked the frown that made its way to his face, your thumb brushing over the crease between his brows.

"But I haven't seen you in so long" Bucky mumbled, reluctantly detouring away from your shared bedroom, taking you to the conference room instead.

"I promise I'll be quick-Bucky what are you-" You squeaked as you felt his cool arm effortlessly wrap around your waist, lifting you up so he could sit in the chair instead, plopping you onto his lap.

"I'll be patient" Bucky gave you an innocent shrug, not willing to wait for you to finish so he could spend time with you. You giggled at his clinginess, opening your laptop and pulling up the file you had to fill out; of course his patience lasts all of 10 seconds before his hands slowly slip under your shirt.

"Bucky, what are you doing"

"Nooothin'" he ignored the pointed look you gave him over your shoulder while he started to needily paw at your hips, slowly making his way up to your waist, caressing your skin. "Just feelin' you"

"I can see that" you shook your head, returning to your report, trying desperately to recall various details while your boyfriends hands continued to wander around. You could barely type out a sentence, squeaking when his cool metal fingers brushed near the top of your breast, tracing along the outline of your bra.

"Bucky"

"Y/n"

"You're distracting me"

"No, You're distracting me" He countered with another shrug, adjusting his hips, the movement causing you to shift right onto his-

"Bucky!"

"What" He gave you an innocent pout as if his thick erection wasn't about to pop out of his jeans.

"Your not so little friend there is about to stab my ass" You snoted, ignoring the way his hard length pressed against you made your stomach flip.

"Help him out then" Bucky smirked with a raise of his brow, "C'mon, it'll help me keep my hands to myself if he gets some attention"

"Bucky-

"Please baby, I promise I'll behave, just let me put it in you, I won't move, no more distractions, scouts honor"

"You're a little shit" You rolled your eyes, biting back a smirk as you got up to pull down your sweats while Bucky unbuttoned his jeans, pulling his cock out. He groaned as he swiped his thick cockhead through your folds, your slick already making a mess between your thighs.

"Looks like I wasn't the only distracted on, huh" He whispered against the shell of your head as he pressed inside, the both of you gasping at the feeling of him stretching you. He was careful to lower you slowly, inching his way until you were perfectly seated on his lap and entirely full of him. "Mpph, fuck you feel good baby, keep me nice and warm, that's it" He nipped on your earlobe while you took a moment to recompose, your tight walls fluttering against his shaft.

"I-have to finish this-" Your voice melted off into a moan, how were you going to get anything done, it had been so long since you'd felt your boyfriends fat cock absolutely rail you, making you cum and squirt till you nearly passed out, his length fucking your brains out until he was ready to fill you, his moans and grunts all just for you while his cock exploded with thick streams of cum that would drip out-

"You won't get anything done if you keep grinding on me princess" Bucky's strained, teasing voice broke you from your train of thought, not even realizing you'd been pushing your hips further back on him, trying to feel more. "You sure you gotta finish this right now?"

"Y-yes" You tried to fill out the next section, your eyes rolling back instead when Bucky adjusted himself, pushing himself till his tip kissed your cervix.

"You sure baby, I can make you feel really good"

"I-

"It's been so long angel, I need you, fuck, need you so bad" The neediness of his voice only set you off further, a gush of your arousal pooling out of you, getting the patch of curls at the base of his cock messy. It certainly wasn't missed by Bucky, his hands holding onto your hips so he could gently thrust his hips up just enough for you to feel the slightest movement. "Please baby, m'so hard, balls are fuckin' full, swear my cock's ready to burst there's so much cum for you-

All it took was you shutting your laptop for Bucky to swipe his arm and clear the table of its contents, bending you over the table while he was still deep inside you.

"Fuck, I needed this!" He growled, grabbing you hips and setting a brutal pace without warning, his head thrown back, the sounds of skin slapping on skin mixing with your moans.

"OH-FUCK-J-AMIE" You squealed feeling Bucky angle his hips to hit a spot that made a mess everywhere, your juices dripping onto his jeans, the material turning darker making him fuck you harder.

"That's it baby, make a mess on me, make a mess on my cock, give me what I've been missing so fuckin' bad"

You were nothing more than a babbling mess letting Bucky take what he needed, your legs nearly buckling from pleasure.

"Wanna see you" He pulled out and handled you with ease as he picked you up and placed you onto the table, throwing your pants off and tossing your legs over his shoulders. He didn't waste any time as he slipped in again, the both of you moaning and he started to move again, your tummy bulging each time he fucked into you. "Missed you so much angel, fuck you have no idea"

"Missed you-t-too" You hiccuped from a mixture of emotion and your building orgasm, a mix of everything making your vision blur with white spots and tears. "Missed you so much, Bucky"

"Cum for me angel, I want it, wanna feel my angel cum on my cock, please-" Bucky's pace stuttered as his cock squirted precum, his balls growing heavy, struggling to hold on, "m'gonna cum, can't hold it baby, give it to me"

"I-I-OH FUCK" You let out a silent scream as Bucky slipped his hand between your bodies, his thumb pressed onto your clit rubbing gentle circles. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm, his own ready to shoot from the base of his cock, the tip already dribbling-

"Good girl, good fuckin' girl, so pretty when you cum for me baby, fuck me I won't last, shit-I-FUCKK" The first burst of cum flooded and painted your walls, his cock throbbing so hard it nearly sent you into a second climax, "Hng, it's so much, mmph"

Bucky clung onto you with his face buried into your neck, shuddering as his body shook from the waves of his orgasm. He held onto you, keeping you wrapped up as he sat back on the chair, his lips pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you"

"I love you too but I need to finish" You sleepily mumbled while Bucky shook his head, carrying you off for some much needed proper cuddles.

"You can finish later after we get some dinner in you and two more orgasms and a nice long shower, maybe a massage and THEN you can-"

"You filthy animals" Tony's voice cut through Bucky's list as he stood at the conference door with an amused smirk on his face.

"Oh my god" You kept your face buried in Bucky's neck, the oversized shirt you were wearing covering up what was going on but there was no mistaking what happened with Bucky's jeans around his ankles.

"Couldn't wait 10 minutes, huh"

"Would you?" Bucky didn't even bother arguing back, raising his brow with a smug smile.

"Can't argue with that" Tony nodded with approval, walking off while Bucky cackled without an ounce of shame.

"You little shit" You stayed pressed against his neck, while Bucky carried you off to your shared bedroom, plopping you onto the bed.

"Now about those two orgasms-"

[moongirlcleo]

Pillow Talk

Tags: Oral Fixation, Caught in the Act, Friends to Lovers, Smut, Teasing, F!Reader, Fingering, Rough Sex Note: Check out all of my works on AO3! - | link

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @cafekitsune  Fic: @moongirlcleo  

You were just trying to take the edge off—nothing serious, just a little relief. Then Caleb walked in. Now he’s got you pinned, all smirks and wandering hands, acting like he wasn’t desperate for you as well. "If you wanted me that bad, pipsqueak, all you had to do was ask." Yeah… this is not how you thought the night would go.

The room is quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside your window, neon lights casting a faint glow across your sheets. You should be sleeping. You tried to sleep. But your body had other ideas—specifically, ideas about him.

Caleb.

It started innocently enough—just a passing thought, an idle fantasy as you tossed and turned. But then you pictured his hands, firm and steady. His voice, low and teasing. The way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, when his gaze lingers a second too long.

And that’s how you ended up here.

On your stomach, hips rolling, the friction of the pillow between your thighs almost enough to satisfy the ache, but not quite. You bite your lip, muffling a whimper of his name aloud as you rock against it, thighs squeezing, chasing after something that feels just out of reach. The sheets are damp beneath you, the heat between your legs unbearable, your mind lost in the image of Caleb behind you—his strong hands gripping your hips, his voice murmuring filthy promises in your ear.

Your breath catches, your movements becoming more frantic, the pressure building—

And then—

A slow, deliberate clap sounds from the doorway.

You freeze.

Your heart lurches into your throat as your head snaps up, eyes wide, blood draining from your face in pure, unfiltered horror.

Caleb leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, a slow, wicked smirk stretching across his lips.

“Well, well.” His voice is smooth, teasing. “Didn’t expect the show tonight, but damn if I’m not impressed.”

Your mouth opens—closes—opens again, but nothing comes out. You’re still sprawled out over the pillow, your body betraying you, still pressed against it in a way that tells him exactly what you were doing.

His amethyst eyes flicker over you, unhurried, taking in every detail—your flushed skin, the way your fingers still clutch the sheets, the way your thighs tremble, aching for something more.

Caleb tilts his head. “Now, pipsqueak,” he drawls, stepping inside and shutting the door with a quiet click, “how are you gonna talk your way out of this one?

Your brain scrambles, panic and mortification flooding your veins as you frantically try to assemble words into something—anything—that can salvage this situation.

“I—I wasn’t—”

Caleb lifts a brow, amused. “Oh? You weren’t?” He nods toward your still-straddled pillow, his smirk deepening. “Could’ve fooled me, pipsqueak.”

Your body burns.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, trying to gather what little dignity remains, but all it does is make the situation worse. Caleb’s gaze darkens as he watches the way your body shifts—how your thighs twitch, the way your shirt hangs loose off your shoulder, exposing the flushed skin beneath.

You swallow. “I was just—trying to get comfortable.”

He laughs.

It’s low, rich, downright sinful. Like you just told him the funniest joke of his life.

“Comfortable?” He repeats the word slowly, rolling it over his tongue like he’s savoring it. “Huh. That’s a new one.”

His hands slide into his pockets as he moves closer, his steps leisurely, like he has all the time in the world to watch you implode.

Your pulse hammers as you scramble for another excuse. “I—had a cramp?”

Caleb grins. “A cramp.”

You nod way too quickly. “Yeah! A—um—muscle cramp. My legs were sore from—uh—training?”

He hums, his head tilting, eyes sharp. “That why you were moaning my name, then?”

Oh, fuck.

You feel the heat snap up to your ears. “I wasn’t—”

Caleb presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, clearly delighted by your struggle. “No? Must’ve been my imagination, then.” He leans down slightly, voice lowering just enough to make your stomach flip. “Y’know, since I definitely heard you.”

Your breath catches.

His eyes flick to your parted lips before dragging lower, tracing the curve of your throat, the way your chest rises and falls just a little too fast.

Caleb exhales through his nose, sharp and amused, but there’s something thicker beneath it now—something deeper, something hungry.

“You’re cute when you panic, pipsqueak,” he murmurs, his voice rougher now, his amusement edged with something darker.

You need to do something, anything, to shift control back in your favor before you combust.

So, you cross your arms, throwing him a glare—one that would’ve been a lot more effective if your entire body wasn’t still betraying you. “Okay, fine, maybe I was—” you gesture vaguely at the pillow, “—doing something—but you shouldn’t have been watching.”

Caleb grins, slow and dangerous. “Hey, pipsqueak.” He leans in, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You left the door unlocked.”

Your stomach plummets.

He chuckles, low and teasing. “Kinda seems like you wanted to get caught.”

One second, you’re scrambling for another excuse, another half-hearted denial that he would’ve loved to tear apart, and the next?

You’re pinned.

His hands grab your thighs, yanking you forward so suddenly that your breath stutters in your throat. Your back hits the mattress, and Caleb—Caleb is on you, caging you in with his forearms braced against the bed, his body flush against yours, heat radiating off him like he’s been waiting for this moment.

“Y’know,” he murmurs, voice dipped in rough amusement, “if you wanted me this bad, pipsqueak, all you had to do was ask.”

Your stomach flips, thighs instinctively squeezing together beneath him, and he notices. Oh, he notices. His gaze flickers downward, pupils blown with satisfaction.

He smirks, wicked and knowing. “Ohhh,” he breathes, dragging a hand slowly, torturously up your side. “That got you, huh?”

You glare, but it’s utterly pathetic considering how thoroughly your body is betraying you. “Shut up, Caleb.”

His grin widens, all sharp teeth and smug amusement. “Oh, Y/N.” His fingers graze up your thigh, pressing just enough to make your breath catch. “That’s not how this works.”

You try to shift, try to salvage what’s left of your dignity, but it’s pointless. He’s got you exactly where he wants you, and worst of all?

You want him there.

Caleb’s voice drops, smooth and taunting. “Be honest, pipsqueak.” His fingers tighten just enough against your skin. “You were thinking about me while you did it, weren’t you?”

Your body burns, and Caleb lives for it.

His smirk darkens. “C’mon. Say it.”

Your jaw tightens, teeth digging into your lip, and fuck, you hate how much this is affecting you.

Caleb leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Say it,” he commands, his voice gravel and smoke. “Tell me you were fucking yourself to the thought of me.”

A shudder racks through you. You can’t say it. You won’t say it—

He presses down, his weight firm and unrelenting, and suddenly, the friction is too much. Your breath stumbles, a sound—a desperate, helpless sound—slipping past your lips before you can stop it.

And Caleb?

He groans, low and wrecked, like that noise broke something in him.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, voice rasped with restraint. “I’m done waiting.”

Then he’s kissing you, hard, fierce, like he’s been starving for you all this time and he’s finally, finally allowed to eat.

His hands claim you, gripping, kneading, owning, and every inch of your body responds, pressing, arching, needing.

You don’t know if you lost, or if this was your plan all along.

But hell, you’re not complaining.

His kiss is hungry, all heat and dominance, lips crushing against yours as his hands roam—fingers splaying across your thighs, gripping your hips, claiming you like he has every right to. And at this moment? He does.

Because you let him.

You want him.

And fuck, he knows it.

“Didn’t even have the patience to wait for me, huh?” Caleb taunts against your lips, his voice a low, dark thing that vibrates straight through you. He drags his teeth along your bottom lip, pulling, teasing, before sucking the sting away with a kiss so hot it leaves you breathless.

His hands trail down, slow, deliberate, until his fingers are teasing the waistband of your sleep shorts—like he’s giving you a chance to stop him. Like he’s giving you an out.

But neither of you are stupid.

You’re not stopping this.

You arch into him, pressing your thighs tighter around his hips, a silent plea wrapped in a challenge.

And Caleb? He smirks against your skin.

“Oh, pipsqueak,” he purrs, slipping his fingers beneath your shorts, grazing over damp fabric. “You really did a number on yourself, didn’t you?”

Your breath catches as he rubs slow, teasing circles over the wet spot on your panties, his touch barely there—just enough to make you whimper, not enough to satisfy.

“You were thinking about me,” he murmurs, his voice dripping satisfaction. “Humping that poor little pillow, soaking it through, all because you wanted me.”

His teeth graze your jaw as he presses down, his fingers slipping against you, spreading that slick exactly where he wants it.

“Did it feel good?” Caleb asks, his lips trailing down your throat, sucking just lightly—just enough to make you shiver. “Or did you stop before you could finish?”

You don’t answer.

Because you can’t.

Not when he slides two fingers between your folds, spreading your slick, teasing your entrance but not giving you what you want.

Not when he presses a single, devastating kiss to your collarbone and whispers,

“Don’t worry, pipsqueak.”

His fingers press inside, slow, stretching, filling you.

“I’ll take care of you properly.”

And fuck, he does.

His fingers move deep, curling just right, finding that spot that makes you jolt, makes your mouth drop open on a silent cry.

Caleb grins, watching you.

“Oh, yeah,” he rasps, his breath hot against your ear. “This is way better than your pillow, huh?”

And all you can do is moan, hips rocking against his hand, begging for more. 

His fingers thrust deep, curling against that perfect spot inside you, his pace unrelenting, dragging moan after moan from your lips. Every time you try to bite them back, to keep some scrap of dignity, he punishes you for it—his fingers slowing, teasing, withholding exactly what you need.

“Aw, pipsqueak,” Caleb mocks, his voice all dark amusement as he watches you squirm. “You’re shy now? Funny, didn’t seem so shy when you were riding that pillow like it owed you money.”

Heat flares in your cheeks, your body betraying you as your hips rock into his touch, chasing the pleasure he’s dangling just out of reach.

You’re soaked, slick dripping down his fingers, onto his palm, and he’s eating up every single second of your desperation.

“So needy,” Caleb tuts, pulling his fingers from you, dragging them slowly over your clit before pulling away entirely. “And greedy, too.”

You whine before you can stop yourself, thighs trembling, aching for more.

And Caleb? Oh, he lives for it.

“Poor thing,” he croons, his fingers slipping under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, smoldering, but beneath the amusement, there’s something else—something possessive.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing over your lower lip, pressing just slightly into your mouth, teasing. “Are you gonna be good for me?”

You nod, too fast, too eager. But it’s not enough.

“Use your words, pipsqueak,” Caleb orders, his voice dropping.

Your breath shudders. “Y-Yes. Yes, Caleb, I’ll be good.”

His smirk is wicked.

“Good girl.”

Then, in one swift movement, he flips you onto your stomach, his hands firm on your waist, dragging you up onto your knees.

Your pulse spikes.

Oh. Oh.

“You made me wait, pipsqueak,” he rasps, his hands spreading you open, his cock hot and hard against you. “Made me sit there while you fucked yourself to the thought of me.”

His grip tightens.

“So now?”

His hips snap forward, burying himself inside you in one, slow, brutal stroke.

“I’m gonna make you feel just how bad you’ve been.”

Your cry is wrecked, pleasure and shock crashing through you as he fills you, stretching you open with the kind of ruthless precision that makes your mind white out.

Caleb groans, low and guttural, his fingers digging into your hips as he bottoms out, giving you no time to adjust before he starts moving.

Hard. Fast.

Each thrust is punishing, knocking the air from your lungs, pushing you into the mattress. The slick sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, filthy, loud—there’s no way anyone outside wouldn’t hear if they walked past.

Not that you can care.

Not when he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot that sends you spiraling, makes you clench tight around him.

“Fuck,” Caleb hisses, his pace stuttering for half a second before he growls and grips the back of your neck, forcing your cheek into the mattress.

“You feel that?” he breathes, his lips ghosting your ear, his cock dragging through your soaked, needy walls with every deep, unrelenting thrust. “No pillow could ever fuck you like this.”

You keen, back arching, hands gripping at the sheets as pleasure piles on top of itself, threatening to break you.

Caleb grins.

“Bet you won’t even think about humping that thing again after this.”

He snaps his hips forward—hard, perfect—and your moan cuts off, turning into something higher, something desperate.

“Oh, that’s it,” Caleb praises, his fingers tightening on your waist as he fucks into you like a man possessed. “Gonna let me ruin you, pipsqueak? Gonna let me make sure you never need that pillow again?”

You nod, moaning so loud you barely hear your own voice. “Yes—Caleb, yes, please—”

And fuck, does he love when you beg.

His fingers snake into your hair, gripping tight as he pulls your head back, his mouth right against your ear.

“That’s my girl.”

Then, without warning, he snaps his hips into you one last time, hitting so deep it sends you over the edge, your body locking up as the pleasure rips through you.

Your vision whites out, a wrecked moan spilling from your lips as your release crashes over you, making you shake, making you clench down on him so tight he groans, his pace losing rhythm.

“Fuck, fuck—” Caleb grits out, his grip bruising as he buries himself deep, spilling inside you with a wrecked groan.

He stills, his breath ragged, his body pressing against yours, heat rolling off him in waves.

For a long, long moment, the only sound in the room is the panting of your breaths, the aftershocks shuddering through you.

Then—Caleb chuckles, his lips pressing against your spine, a slow, lazy kiss.

“Told you,” he murmurs, smug as hell.

You groan, half-buried in the mattress.

“Shut up.”

Caleb grins, biting lightly at your shoulder before rolling over, pulling you with him.

His arms wrap tightly around you as he murmurs, “you love it.”

[missdynamighttt]

hehehe sooo.. pro hero, husband! katsuki not being able to spend time with you took a toll on his agency, so someone said... you two needed to bone.

it had been weeks since katsuki had a proper night at home. pro hero work never let up but lately, it felt like it was eating him—late nights at the agency, barely any sleep, reports, patrols, meetings.

you understood. it was his job, his responsibility, but his stress showed in the way he snapped at people more often, his fuse shorter than usual.

and today? he was especially pissed.

the whole office refused to confront dynamight about it, until some dumbass sidekick, probably sick of his rage-fueled outbursts, muttered under his breath, “tch. man just needs to go home and bone his wife.”

the room went silent.

dead silent.

katsuki stopped mid-step, shoulders going rigid. his head turned slowly toward him, eyes burning like he was about to set the entire building on fire.

"the fuck did you just say?"

the sidekick, to his credit, had the audacity to look innocent. "i mean, you’re obviously tense, and i'm sure she’s—"

he lunged at him. it took three other sidekicks to hold him back as he damn near flipped his desk over.

“YOU'RE FUCKIN' DEAD! BONE?!” katsuki roared, struggling against his coworkers like a wild animal. "say that shit again, i dare you! you think i’m pissed ‘cause i ain’t fucking my wife enough?!”

the whole agency floor collectively held its breath.

the poor sidekick scrambled for an excuse. “n-no! i-i just meant—uh, stress relief! yeah! y’know, intimacy is good for—”

katsuki grabbed a random clipboard and hurled it across him. he missed by a centimeter. “you think i don’t wanna fuckin' go home to her?! huh?!”

“sir—”

“i wanna go home so bad! i wanna see her, i wanna kiss her, i wanna lay on her tits and sleep for the whole fuckin’ day,” he ranted, voice cracking from pure frustration. “BUT NOOO! i’m stuck here writing reports and dealing with dumbasses like you!”

the office was dead silent.

it took a solid ten minutes for him to cool down, grumbling and seething as he rubbed his temples.

but his mind did wander.

to you. to the way he missed your voice. to how fucking long it had been since he held you properly.

to the way he always found you asleep by the time he got home, curled up on his side of the bed, waiting for him.

… fuck. maybe the sidekick did have a point.

katsuki inhaled sharply. then, with wild determination, he grabbed his his stuff, and stormed toward the exit. the agency could handle itself for the night. he had better things to do.

“fuck this. i'm goin' home to my wife."

meanwhile, you had barely settled on the couch, ready to enjoy a quiet evening alone, when the front door slammed open. you jolted, turning toward the entrance just in time to see katsuki storming in—looking like a man on a mission.

“katsu—” you barely got his name out before his mouth crashed onto yours, hot and urgent, like he’d been starving for this. you gripped his shirt as he pulled you impossibly close, practically lifting you off the floor.

you gasped against his lips as his hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head as he deepened the kiss, pressing his body against yours.

strong hands cupped your face, rough but desperate. his lips were everywhere—your cheeks, your nose, your jaw, the corner of your lips—like he was making up for lost time.

and when he finally let you breathe, his forehead pressed against yours, panting slightly, his hands still gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear.

you were breathless, blinking up at him in shock. “what the hell?”

katsuki exhaled sharply, his forehead resting against yours. “i missed you.”

your brows furrowed. “you left for work this morning.”

“exactly,” his lips brushed against yours again, softer this time. “should’ve come home sooner.”

it was then you realized—he was home way earlier than usual. normally, he'd get caught up in work, buried in reports or dealing with patrols, but tonight…

“wait, why are you home so early?” you asked, still dazed.

katsuki huffed. his fingers slid down to your waist, gripping you tightly. “tch. dumbass sidekick at work said i just needed to fuck my wife to fix my attitude.”

your jaw dropped. “excuse me?”

his lips brushed yours again, softer this time. “so i left early to prove ‘em right.”

your face burned. “katsuki!”

but he was already leaning in again, smirking against your lips. “better get comfortable, sweets. i’m makin’ up for lost time.”

and when katsuki stepped into the office that morning, something was… off.

for the first time in weeks, he didn’t stomp in with a permanent scowl, barking at everyone the second he crossed the threshold. his usual sharp glare was dulled, his shoulders weren’t tense as tense.

instead, katsuki looked, dare they say it—relaxed. his jaw wasn’t clenched, his brows weren’t furrowed, and the usual aggressive boom of his steps was noticeably tamer.

hell, the man even had a post-nut glow so obvious. skin clear, posture loose, and zero unnecessary shouting.

no explosions. no immediate death threats. no one getting yelled at for breathing too loud.

everyone noticed.

by the time he made it to his desk, his coworkers were already exchanging looks, whispering amongst themselves like they’d just seen a miracle.

"uh…" one of his sidekicks was the first to cautiously approach. “sir. you good?”

katsuki just grunted, rolling his shoulders before cracking his neck. “feelin’ great, actually.”

and that’s when it clicked. a murmur spread through the office as realization slammed into them.

“you boned last night,” he stated, like it was the discovery of the century.

katsuki just smirked, grabbing some files off his desk. “what’s it to ya?”

the room erupted.

“holy shit, i forgot he could be normal—”

“i haven’t known peace in months.”

“oh my god, mrs bakugo katsuki, if you can hear this—thank you for your service!”

someone started clapping.

then, the entire office cheered.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ i think y'all know where this is inspired from but js in case, its from a sitcom named brooklyn 99 where this girl tells her boss he needs to bone his husband lmao😭 hope yall enjoyed!!

[jiminomenon]

model! karina teases assistant! reader during a meeting

pairing: model! karina x assistant! female reader

word count: 1k+

summary: during a business meeting, jimin finds amusement in subtly teasing y/n, her ever-serious assistant, under the table—light touches, playful whispers, and smug glances meant to fluster her. y/n tries her best to maintain her composure, but jimin’s relentless antics make it nearly impossible. as the meeting drags on, jimin only grows bolder, clearly enjoying y/n’s struggle to stay professional. it’s a dangerous game, one that leaves y/n torn between frustration and something far more distracting.

from my series: the devil wears prada

y/n prided herself on being professional. no matter how chaotic jimin could be, no matter how many unnecessary demands she made, y/n always managed to keep her cool—especially in work settings. she had perfected the art of staying composed, of pushing aside all distractions, and handling everything with a level-headedness that made her indispensable.

but jimin seemed determined to test her limits today.

the meeting room was bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, casting long shadows over the polished mahogany table. around them, a group of high-ranking executives droned on about upcoming campaigns, brand deals, and marketing strategies. y/n was seated beside jimin, as always, furiously typing notes on her tablet, tuning everything else out. she had a job to do, and nothing—not even jimin—could shake her focus.

or so she thought.

a light, almost imperceptible touch grazed against her knee.

at first, y/n ignored it, thinking she had imagined it. but then, a single, delicate tap followed. slow. deliberate. testing.

her fingers momentarily froze over the keyboard.

her eyes flickered sideways, catching the faintest smirk playing on jimin’s lips. she was pretending to listen, nodding along to the discussion, her entire demeanor the picture of grace and elegance. but under the table, where no one else could see, her fingers trailed mindlessly against y/n’s knee, tapping a silent rhythm that sent an unwelcome heat crawling up y/n’s spine.

y/n cleared her throat quietly, shifting in her seat to subtly move her leg out of reach. she didn’t have time for jimin’s games. but of course, that only made jimin more persistent.

the fingers returned, this time tracing lazy circles against the fabric of y/n’s slacks, dragging slightly before moving up—just an inch higher.

y/n’s lips parted in silent exasperation. she turned her head slightly, just enough to glare at the model without drawing attention.

jimin, completely unfazed, met her gaze with a look so innocent it was almost convincing. she arched a perfectly sculpted brow, as if asking, something wrong? before turning her attention back to the speaker.

y/n exhaled sharply through her nose, forcing herself to focus on her screen.

but then, jimin leaned in—just enough for her lips to brush against the shell of y/n’s ear.

“you’re so tense,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper, her breath warm against y/n’s skin. “relax, y/n.”

y/n swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the tablet just a little too tightly.

she was going to kill her.

“ms. yu, do you have any thoughts on this proposal?” one of the executives suddenly asked, breaking the tension.

jimin hummed, straightening in her seat as if she hadn’t just been tormenting y/n for the past ten minutes. she lazily tapped her nails against the table, pretending to consider the question. “i think we should move forward with it,” she said, her tone smooth, effortlessly commanding. “it seems promising.”

as she spoke, she slipped her foot out of her stiletto, pressing it lightly against y/n’s ankle.

y/n stiffened.

she inhaled deeply, locking her jaw as she fought the overwhelming urge to retaliate. jimin was playing a dangerous game, and she knew it. but this was work, and y/n wasn’t about to let herself slip—not because of her.

jimin, sensing her frustration, bit back a smirk. she shifted slightly in her seat, letting the side of her leg press against y/n’s just enough to be felt.

y/n’s patience was wearing dangerously thin.

“focus on the meeting, ms. yu,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, her voice clipped.

jimin’s grin widened. but—thankfully—she relented, finally retreating as she returned her attention to the meeting.

y/n let out a quiet, steady breath, her shoulders slowly relaxing. she turned back to her notes, determined to ignore her completely.

but then—

a small, folded note landed on her lap.

y/n hesitated, glancing around quickly before unfolding it under the table. inside, written in jimin’s annoyingly neat handwriting, was a single sentence.

you look really cute when you’re trying not to react.

y/n’s jaw clenched. she shot jimin a sharp look, but the model only winked before turning back to the discussion, pretending to be the picture of professionalism.

y/n swore under her breath.

she was going to lose her mind.

the meeting dragged on, but her focus was already in shambles. she could barely hear the executives as they discussed numbers and projections, barely process the words flashing across her tablet screen. all she could think about was the smug woman sitting beside her, toying with her like it was her favorite pastime.

jimin had backed off—physically, at least—but the energy between them remained charged. every now and then, y/n would catch the model glancing at her from the corner of her eye, the ghost of a smirk playing at her lips.

y/n inhaled deeply, trying to keep her composure. ignore her. don’t give her the satisfaction.

but then, as the ceo started wrapping up the meeting, jimin leaned in again.

“so serious,” she murmured, her voice low, teasing. “but you’re cute when you’re annoyed, so i’ll allow it.”

y/n clenched her jaw, her fingers twitching with the urge to shove her away. instead, she remained perfectly still, refusing to let jimin win.

but jimin wasn’t done yet.

as soon as the meeting officially ended and people began gathering their things, she stretched her arms out, letting out a soft, satisfied sigh before turning to y/n.

“you worked really hard today,” she said sweetly, her voice dripping with amusement. “should i reward you?”

y/n shot her a look, unimpressed. “yeah, by leaving me alone.”

jimin only grinned, tilting her head playfully. “hmm. no can do, assistant.”

before y/n could protest, jimin stood up, her long legs moving effortlessly as she sauntered out of the room. but just before she disappeared through the door, she cast y/n one last glance over her shoulder, her smirk full of promise.

“meet me in my dressing room in five minutes,” she said, winking. “i need your help with something… urgent.”

y/n groaned, dragging a hand down her face.

she was never getting a break from this woman.

[pearlessance]

Daddy's Home!

summary: gojo makes up where your boyfriend falls short small. you know where home is.

pairing: bestfriend!gojo x f!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, infidelity, lowkey perv!gojo who's sooo obsessed with you, dry humping, dirty talk, sloppy kissing, hair pulling, size difference, unprotected sex, overstim, creampie, pet names, cock warming at the end

note: i tried very hard to keep this short but i have a lot to say about satoru gojo so sorry :( SIKEEE i can never be sorry for loving this whore, eat up!! <3

wc: 2.2k

[masterlist] [read on AO3!]

bestfriend!gojo who knows you like the back of his hand. he’s memorized your order at all of your favorite food spots, knows you ask for oat milk in your coffee and can tell when it’s wrong just by the color of it. 

bestfriend!gojo who keeps a bullet point list in his notes app dedicated to you for all those little bits of information you tell him in casual conversation. your shoe size, your birthstone, your favorite book, your preferred skincare brands just in case you run out. 

bestfriend!gojo follows you around the shopping mall and sits in the dressing rooms with you while you pick and choose which things to purchase. he gives his input freely, but you insist he’s not very helpful. “it’s because you look fuckin’ delicious in everything,” he says, doubling down when you roll your eyes and accuse him of lying for your benefit. he palms the bulge in his pants with a grin to drive his point home. “how do you think this happened, then?”

you scoff and say, “you’re being gross,” but it takes you twice as long to remove this dress as the last one. you arch your back a little more, bend over just a little further. and satoru stares, mouth watering, head filled with filthy thoughts that linger long after he slides his credit card at the register.

and when you get a new boyfriend, bestfriend!gojo is the first to tell you he’s not good enough for you. he doesn’t like the same things you do, doesn’t have the same sweet tooth, doesn’t make an effort to worship the ground you walk on as he should. all things gojo does with ease. 

but once the honeymoon phase fizzles out, bestfriend!gojo is always there to listen to you vent after an argument. doesn’t think you’re overreacting at all when you go through your boyfriend’s social media to see just how many girls he follows. so what if they’re his family? in fact, he urges you that this is a breakup-level matter. “i’m just saying, if i were your boyfriend…”

bestfriend!gojo who’s appalled when you tell him that your boyfriend doesn’t like that the two of you still have sleepovers. they’re innocent enough, right? you’re just sleeping in the same bed. it’s not like you’re taking care of his morning wood! (well, there was that one time…)

bestfriend!gojo who shows up anyway, long after you’ve fallen asleep, and slips beneath your familiar sheets. when you wake to his movements, you just smile up at him, lay your head on his chest and let out the cutest, most content sigh he’s ever heard.

bestfriend!gojo who keeps all your secrets, no matter what. so, when you come over late one night with tension in your shoulders and a scowl on your face, he immediately sits you down and demands to know what’s wrong. he says, “tell me so i can fix it,” and fully prepares to do whatever it takes.

yet still, it comes as a surprise when you flop back onto his bed, cover your face with your hands, and admit, “it’s too small!”

he doesn’t want to make assumptions, but gojo just knows. “are you saying what i think you’re saying?”

“maybe…what do you think i’m saying?”

there’s no use fighting off his wide smile. “that boyfriend you seem to like so much has a tiny cock, doesn’t he?”

“satoru! stop laughing!”

bestfriend!gojo who loves you more than anything, but this is just too fucking good. his terrible chivalry can be fixed with time, but a small dick lasts forever. he’s laughing so hard a stitch forms in his side, but his mirth simmers as he sees the genuine frustration on your face. “oh, baby. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it. come here.”

you crawl into his lap, arms wrapped tight around his neck. you’re so soft and small in his arms, and he runs his hands soothingly down your back. it’s funny to him, hilarious, really…but this part isn’t. he hates that you’re unsatisfied, hates that you’re strung so tight.

bestfriend!gojo would do anything for you. “you know that, right?”

“i know,” you say through a sniffle.

he pushes your hair behind your ear and kisses your forehead. “so tell me what you need. i’ll take good care of you. promise.”

you say, “just hold me,” and so he does. gojo wraps his arms around your waist and crushes your body against his, leaning back against the headboard. your tits press against his chest and he can feel the hard peaks of your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt, but he doesn’t say a word. just lets you rest your head in the crook of his neck, your warm breath leaving condensation on his smooth skin. he thinks you’re right where you belong.

his cock always comes to life just from seeing you, but you’re used to it by now. don’t even flinch as it swells underneath you. you know he can’t help it, after all. you’re just so pretty. 

it pushes up between your legs, nestling right against the seam of your leggings. gojo can feel every dip and curve of your pussy, can feel your poor, desperate clit pulse with need against the underside of his cock.

at first, the tilt of your hips is so minuscule he almost doesn’t notice it, movements experimental and cautious. but then your pace is increasing, little by little, bit by bit. and gojo’s heavy breaths turn into low groans at the delicious friction, but he only continues rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back. “you wanna talk about it some more?”

you shake your head, the tip of your nose running across the column of his throat. “just wanna feel better.”

bestfriend!gojo who knows just what to do. he grabs your hips and helps you move a little faster, smiling to himself in satisfaction when you let out the sweetest sounding whimper. “don’t worry. i’ve got you, baby,” he promises. 

you tangle your hands in his hair, pulling so hard at the roots that he moans. he returns the favor, forcing you to look at him. the grin that forms on his face as he sees your flushed cheeks and the heat in your eyes is downright diabolical. because bestfriend!gojo knows he's the only one who can take care of you like this. you might call someone else your boyfriend, might sometimes hold someone else’s hand, but they’ll never satisfy you like satoru does.

he pushes and pulls you over his lap. again and again and again until your spine bends and your eyes squeeze shut. he knows you so well that he knows you’ll cum just like this, pussy contracting around absolutely nothing, greedily wanting more, wanting to be filled up good.

“toru—!”

“you got it,” he says through roguish laughter. “s’right there, isnt it? can feel how wet you are. go on an’ take it, baby.”

he shifts your hips faster, pushes up into you harder. your breath stops, and then—

“there you go. just like that. so fuckin’ pretty when you cum. such a shame he’ll never see it. s’all for me.”

bestfriend!gojo who isn’t even surprised that you’re grinding against him again just seconds after you come down from the short-lived high. you’re whimpering, repeating his name over and over again as if you’ve forgotten all other words. but it’s okay, he doesn’t mind, because bestfriend!gojo knows you like the back of his hand!!! and he’s gonna give you just what you need. 

he works quickly, tugging your leggings down your thighs just until they’re wrapped around your knees. he finds no panties underneath and takes a selfish moment to admire just how pretty your pussy is, rosy and puffy and so wet that it makes his mouth water. gojo thinks he could spend hours with his head between your legs without ever coming up for air, tenderly licking at your clit till you cry. but no, this isn’t about him. it’s about you, and your need for his big, fat cock.

the tip is red and swollen when he pulls it out of his slacks. and before he can do much else, you’re greedily sliding your pussy against him again, coating him in your slick. “this what you want?” 

“yes, please, satoru, please.”

“how do you want it? fast? slow?”

“want it deep.”

bestfriend!gojo who wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you up just enough so he can position himself right at your opening, leaky and dripping all over him. “alright, sweetheart. always gonna give you everything you want.” 

and then he’s pushing into you and your pussy squeezes him so fucking tight pleasure shoots through him before he even begins to move. you sit on his cock with all your weight and he swears he can feel your insides move to make room for him—he’s just so big. 

when he’s fully seated inside, you let out a sigh of relief and gojo thinks nothing has brought him more joy than seeing that happy, satisfied little smile tug at the corners of your lips.

he splays his fingers wide over the globes of your ass, squeezing hard when you begin to roll your hips. your walls twitch around him, caressing every vein and sensitive spot of his thick cock. you don’t even lift up off of him, so desperate to have him buried as deep inside of you for as long as possible that you’re only grinding against him, his tip brushing up against your cervix just enough to have you moaning.

even though he’s inside you, bestfriend!gojo still asks, “is it okay if i kiss you?”

there’s no hesitance. you press your lips to his and when they part on a gasp as he thrusts his cock up into you, he slides his tongue into your mouth. you taste like sugar and honey and you—his favorite flavor. he fucks you hard and sucks your tongue and bites your bottom lip, spit-covered mouths breathing out obscenities.

you’re clawing at his back, pussy squelching with each deep, meaningful thrust he gifts to you. he’s not going to last long and he knows it, but he always puts you first. so between each sloppy kiss he’s muttering absolute filth. “mmm, yeah. came to the right place, didn’t you, baby? you know who’s gonna take good care of you. pussy’s so tight. such a greedy thing. gonna give you everything he can’t. can you feel how hard you make me? feels better with a big cock all up in your guts, doesn’t it? puts your pretty little mind right at ease.”

when your moans turn into pants he knows you’re close. he lets the leash he’s tied around his self control go slack, because he wants to fall off the edge with you. “it’s so big,” you cry. “gonna make me cum—!”

he keeps his pace steady, fucking up into you, thick cock spitting you apart. “you love this dick, huh, baby? tell me you love it.”

“love it, toru, love—hmph—love you!”

“fuck yeah you do,” he says with a grin. it only takes one, two, three more deep thrusts before he feels your walls flutter around him. you moan his name and it sends him over the edge. gojo kisses you hard as he paints your insides with sticky ropes of cum, filling you so full it spills out, sliding down to the base of his cock and staining his slacks.

there’s so much, so much, but he fucks you through it despite the overstimulation, arms wrapped tight around your waist, eliminating any space that remains between the two of you. doesn’t stop until your moans quiet and your thighs stop trembling around him.

your chest heaves with each shaking breath, but you stay right in his lap. when you lay your head on his chest, gojo settles into the sheets, trying not to shift you too much. he thinks you’re so cute like this, all fucked out and sleepy. 

bestfriend!gojo says, “you should break up with your boyfriend,” with his hand on your ass and is able to fall asleep contently, still buried deep inside your sweet pussy.

because you kiss his jaw and mumble sleepily, “m’kay, i will.”

[goldfades]

i know melo/luka/dbook werent allstars this year but i thought it'd be cute for their girls to rep their jerseys at the game if they were to have went...? being their cute little wag and all hsshhshs

pretty short i know but i still hope you enjoy<3

LAMELO BALL

you know he saw you the second he stepped onto the court. you’re in the front row, tucked between a sea of wags, managers, and league officials, but his eyes still find you like it’s second nature. your oversized "ball" jersey is cropped just right, paired with those little shorts that make his mind wander even when he’s supposed to be locked in. he notices the way his name stretches across your back when you turn to talk to someone, and it makes him bite back a smirk.

"you see her?" melo nudges miles, chin tipping in your direction. his boy just shakes his head, laughing.

"bro, she’s been wearin’ your jersey since before you even got drafted," miles teases. "you act brand new every time."

but it’s different. it’s all-star weekend. it's a moment that means something to him, and there you are, showing out for him, making him feel like all of this is even bigger because he gets to share it with you. when he runs past your section in warmups, he stops just for a second—just long enough to send a wink your way, making sure you see the way he mouths, you look good as hell.

you roll your eyes, but he sees the way you tuck your smile into the rim of your cup, the way your free hand tugs at the hem of his jersey like you suddenly need to adjust it. yeah, you like the attention. and he loves giving it to you.

LUKA DONCIC

"you didn’t have to do all that," luka murmurs, half bashful, half amused, as he tugs at the hem of the custom all-star luka jersey you’re wearing.

you look up at him, batting your lashes innocently. "what do you mean?"

"your whole—" he waves a hand vaguely at your outfit, at the way you’d put effort into styling it, at the way the red and blue of his jersey paired too perfectly with the rest of your look. he knows you did it on purpose. "you’re too cute."

he says it low, just for you to hear, but it still makes you warm all over.

you catch the moment cameras pick up on the exchange, because the jumbotron suddenly flashes to your section, putting you both on the big screen. a mix of cheers and teasing whistles ring out through the arena.

luka lets out a soft groan, rubbing a hand down his face, but you? oh, you play into it. you hold up the luka 77 on your back with a cheeky little pose, making the crowd holler even louder. he’s shaking his head, but the pink at the tips of his ears gives him away.

"they love you," you tease, nudging him.

"no," he mutters, leaning in so only you can hear, voice thick with affection. "they love you. i’m just the guy who plays basketball."

but the way his arm lingers around your waist before he heads back out for warmups tells you he’s not complaining.

DEVIN BOOKER

he doesn’t acknowledge it at first. not when he first jogs onto the court, not during pre-game shootaround, not even when he sneaks glances at you from across the arena, tucked into your courtside seat, wrapped in his all-star jersey like you were born to wear it.

but then he checks in for his first shift, and the camera catches you standing, clapping, yelling something that makes chris give devin a side-eye and a little smirk.

"your girl’s reppin’ hard," he mutters as they settle into position.

devin finally allows himself to look, just for a second, just long enough to catch the way the jersey fits, the way his number drapes over you, the way your excitement is so genuine it makes something deep in his chest feel all warm and right.

"yeah," he hums, flexing his fingers as he waits for the inbound. "she always does."

it’s casual, nonchalant, but there’s something about the way he plays that first possession—the extra lift in his jumper, the smoothness of his footwork—that makes it obvious. he’s feeling good.

later, when he comes over during a timeout, sweat-damp and glowing under the arena lights, he leans in close enough that only you can hear.

"you’re kinda bad for my focus, y’know that?"

you grin up at him, looping a finger around his jersey’s collar, just for a second. "i think i make you play better, actually."

he exhales a laugh, shaking his head, but doesn’t argue. maybe you do.

[thechaoticcherub]

Would you be interested in doing a Professor Joel fic? Maybe he’s really trying to be good and feels bad he’s even having the thoughts about a student / worried what Ellie or Sarah will think but can’t control himself

hello!! This turned into PURELY smut.

Bad Man

Pairing: Professor!Joel x Student Reader

Summary: Joel is a bad man and does some naughty stuff with his student.

Warnings: 18+, PWP, Joel is a Bad Man, lots of spanking, unedited, age gap, professor/student, anal fingering, degradation, humiliation, name calling, pet names.

Word Count: 1.4K

Notes: Didn't edit it. Just spewed it. Hope you enjoy!

🎀👼🏻Home | Ask | Masterlist👼🏻🎀

Joel hadn’t wanted to have you bent over his desk. Joel had told himself over and over again that it was wrong. You were Ellie’s roommate. You were young enough to be his daughter. You were taking his fuckin’ class for God’s sake. You were supposed to just be any other student but here you were, folded over the desk in his office, offering yourself to him. 

You had come to office hours and asked for help on an assignment that you were already well prepared for. You had leaned towards him, showing off your cleavage, you had asked easy questions and Joel had gotten irritated. 

“You’re smarter than this, Darlin’ you better not be dumbin’ yourself down to get my attention,”  You had been taken aback, you had pulled away from him and mumbled something about how you didn’t mean to, how you had just been crushing so bad. Joel had been shocked that you had admitted it. Tearfully admitted it, but admitted it nonetheless. Then of course, he had comforted you, told you it was okay, it was normal. You had snuggled up close to him and looked up at him with those sweet, sad eyes and one thing had led to another and now his hands were running up and down your hips and your underwear looked so good on you. They had slipped up into the crack of your ass and Joel could see them tight against the lips of your pussy.  His hand was running over the curve of your ass and you were looking back at him. 

“Professor Miller,” you whined and Joel knew in your feigned innocence that this had been your goal all along, to be over his desk, to be showing off the lacy undies you had on and to be calling him Professor Miller in that sultry voice. If he had been thinking clearly and not in an absolute haze of lust he would have brushed your skirt back down and tugged you up and told you to be on your way; but no. No, he wasn’t thinking clearly, and he also wasn’t a good man. If he was a good man, you would have never felt like you could do this. 

He wouldn’t have smiled at you a little too long in class, he wouldn’t have hovered near your desk during discussions and leaned down to talk to you when you had a question. If he was a good man, he wouldn’t have imagined this exact position over and over again. He wouldn’t have made the excuse to visit Ellie in her dorm just to hear you say, 

“Hey Professor Miller!” and he certainly wouldn’t have corrected you, 

“We ain’t in class, kiddo, you can call me Joel here,” No. He wouldn’t have done any of that. But he was sick and twisted and he had indulged you. He had wanted to get to this point, the point of you throwing yourself at him. Now, he indulged his own needs, his hand squeezing your hip. Because he wasn’t a good man, he knew he was going to blame you for this, blame you for thrusting your hips back at him, and because he blamed you, he’d punish you for doing this to him  for making him indulge all his perverted fantasies. 

“You wanted my attention, Sugar, now you’re gettin’ it,” he said quietly. “You’ve been actin’ like a slut, so I can treat ya like a slut, how’s that sound?” Joel’s voice sounded like the voice of a bad man. It was  a growl and he knew you liked it because you pressed your hips back and whined again,

“Yes, Professor,” You said, playing right into his sick fantasy. His hand came down on your ass cheek with a  snap. You let out a whine and he wondered how far your lust went. How far could he take this punishment? Joel smacked his hand down on your other cheek, letting out a little gasp as he felt your ass jiggle under his hand. You seemed to love it, you looked back over your shoulder at him and pressed your hips back so Joel took it farther, spanking each ass cheek repeatedly. Your ass felt fiery and hot under his hand as he spanked you, and you whined. He could see a patch of wetness growing on your undies that were flush against your steadily swelling vulva. 

“You like this, dont ya?” he asked. You nodded shamefully. 

“Y-Yes, Professor,” You said, your voice hitching a little. Joel’s fantasies spread out in front of him, the idea of ripping your underwear down, spanking you until you cried, his fingers prying the lips of your cunt open so he could see just how turned on spanking got you. Joel shivered with need. If you really needed a punishment he’d force his fingers into your tightest hole, leaving your pussy empty and needy. He could fuck your ass with his fingers until you were ready to take his cock, but he was getting ahead of himself. He didn’t know if your lust went that far. 

Joel reached up and grabbed the waistband of your undies, he tugged them down, letting them drop from around your legs, 

“You ain’t goin’ to like it so much when i’m through with ya,” he breathed as his hand rubbed over your asscheek. You let out a needy whine and he smiled at how horny this was making you. “Look at you, stickin’ your ass out, practically begging for my fingers in your pussy, aint ya?” he asked. 

“yes sir,” You said breathlessly and Joel tisked, shaking his head as you turned to look at him. 

“Nah,” he said, he smacked your bare ass again, and then on the other side again and then back. You squirmed away from the last one and kicked your feet back up towards him. “Aww poor girl, gettin’ sensitive?” he asked. 

“Y-Yes, sir.” You choked out and Joel pressed his hand into your lower back, forcing you to arch your back further, 

“Too bad,” He growled. He spanked you over and over as you whined and twitched. Half the time you were pressing yourself back into his hand and the other half of the time you were struggling away from him. When he finally had enough he smirked, 

“Reach back here, spread yourself out, I wanna see how wet that got ya,” he said. 

“Professor!” You said, sounding shocked. 

“Oh as if you don’t wanna show me that tight pussy,” He mocked. It seemed like you struggled internally for a moment but then you reached your hands back, taking each cheek in your hands, spreading yourself open for his gaze. Joel watched as you revealed the most intimates parts of yourself to him. “Open your legs,” he instructed. You tentatively stepped your feet apart and Joel got a glimpse of your glistening folds opening for him. He smiled, reaching out and stroking along your lips, you twitched and moaned, 

“Oh!” your voice was desperate and he loved it. 

“That’s right, good girl, keep it open.” He instructed as his fingers trailed up from your soaked cunt, leaving a wet trail from your pussy to your puckered ass. He was testing, teasing, wanting to see if you would let him. His pointer finger circled around your tightest hole. You gasped and jerked forward but your hands didn’t drop from holding yourself open for him. “Oh good girl,” Joel praised, gently pressing in, not inserting his finger but teasing that he might. 

“Maybe that’s the kind of punishment you need,” Joel teased, still stroking around and around your asshole. Your mouth had fallen open at the feeling of it and your pussy had started to leak down your legs. 

“Mhm,” You whined. Joel was about to press his pointer finger in past the ring of muscles but then he removed his hand, gave you pussy a sharp slap and stepped back. 

“Get your underwear back on, girl.” he said. You were so shocked you didn’t move. “Now. I don’t need a slutty little girl bent over my desk for all of my office hours.” He mocked. Joel knew he was a bad man because he thought it was funny to mock you like this. If Joel Miller has been a better man he would have fucked you and been done with it. But no, he was a bad, sick man and he was going to draw this out as long as possible. 

[riddleswhcre]

────۶ৎ you want a reaction, don't you?

you’ve been pushing your stepdad's buttons for weeks. you've been teasing him, testing his patience, waiting for the moment he finally snaps. tonight, he does. and he’s going to make sure you never act like a brat again.

warnings: stepcest, smut, age gap, dom!tom, brat-taming, spanking, choking, dirty talk, teasing, fingering, degradation, overstimulation, praise, pet names, breeding kink, possessiveness.

ʚɞ more

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

you were pushing his buttons again.

lounging on the plush sofa in nothing but an oversized shirt—one of his, because you knew how much it got under his skin—you twirled a finger around a strand of your hair, all innocent. “are you going to keep pretending i’m not here, sir?”

tom riddle didn’t look up from his book. the firelight cast sharp shadows over his face, highlighting the tick in his jaw. you recognised that look. he was at his limit, but he wouldn’t give you the satisfaction just yet.

so you pushed further.

sprawling out, you let your legs part just a little, enough for him to catch a glimpse of your bare thighs. “or are you too busy reading to notice how bored i am?”

the moment his eyes flicked up—cold, calculating—you felt it. the shift in the air, the weight of his attention pinning you in place.

“you want a reaction, don’t you, little one?” he murmured, setting his book aside with slow, deliberate movements. “acting out, testing my patience. how predictable.”

your stomach flipped. this was what you wanted. what you needed.

“so what if i am?” you challenged, tilting your chin up, even as heat pooled between your legs.

he sighed, shaking his head. “such a fucking brat.”

before you could come up with some smart remark, he was on you, pressing you down into the cushions, his large hand wrapping around your throat. your pulse jumped beneath his fingertips, and he smirked.

“look at you. already squirming. weren’t you just mouthing off a second ago?”

you gasped when his grip tightened just enough to make your head swim, his knee nudging between your thighs. “s-sir—”

“no.” he tutted, pressing his lips to your ear, voice silk and steel. “you don’t get to be sweet now. you wanted my attention, didn’t you?”

his fingers dragged up your thigh, slow and teasing. you clenched around nothing, desperate for more friction.

“oh, you’re already wet?” his chuckle was dark. humiliating. “of course you are. what would your mother think if she knew her sweet little girl was acting like a desperate whore for her stepfather?”

you whimpered as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, brushing against your soaked cunt.

“what’s the matter, brat?” he mused, pressing a single finger to your clit, circling it lazily. “too dumb to talk now?”

you whined, hips bucking up, but he pulled back.

“use your words.”

“please,” you gasped, hands grabbing at his shirt, trying to pull him closer. “need you.”

his fingers dipped lower, teasing at your entrance. “need me to what?”

“fuck me.” the words came out embarrassingly desperate.

he laughed. “look at you. so eager. not so mouthy now, are you?”

then he pushed two fingers inside, and you nearly sobbed at how good it felt. he worked you open, curling them just right, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your clit. your thighs trembled.

“gonna cum already?” he mocked.

you nodded frantically, but he withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty.

“ah, ah.” he gripped your chin, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his. “you don’t get to cum yet, sweetheart. you wanted to act like a spoiled little brat? then you take what i give you.”

he unbuckled his belt, and your stomach fluttered.

you didn’t have the strength to be bratty anymore. you wanted to be ruined.

—

he had you exactly where he wanted you—spread out on his lap, naked and dripping, legs trembling from how long he’d been teasing you. two fingers shoved deep in your cunt, curling just right, but never enough to tip you over the edge. you were so sensitive, so fucking desperate, but every time you got close, he pulled away.

your swollen, ruined cunt clenched around nothing as he withdrew his fingers once again. you let out a little sob. “please—”

smack.

his hand came down hard against your bare thigh, sending a sharp jolt through your body. you gasped, thighs squeezing together, the sting only making you wetter.

he chuckled, running a finger over your throbbing clit. “look at you. getting off on being treated like a desperate little slut.”

“i—”

smack. another sharp slap, this time against your pussy, making you cry out.

“what was that?” he taunted, fingers rubbing slow, lazy circles around your entrance. “you love this, don’t you? ruining your family's perfect image, getting fucked like this by the man who's supposed to take care of you.”

you nodded frantically, thighs quivering. “yes—yes, sir.”

he hummed in approval. “now, beg.”

your pride burned, but your need was worse. “please,” you whimpered. “need you so bad. need your cock—”

his hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back so your neck was bared to him. “you think you deserve my cock, sweetheart?” his voice was pure mockery, his free hand pressing against your soaked cunt, rubbing slow and mean.

“i’ll be good,” you gasped, writhing against him. “please, sir—need you to fill me up.”

his dark eyes flickered with something sharp. dangerous.

“you want to be bred that bad?” he purred, his thumb swiping through your slick folds, pressing against your entrance. “such a needy little thing. practically dripping onto my fucking trousers.”

you let out a choked moan as he spread you open with his fingers, stretching you out, but still not giving you what you needed.

“please,” you whimpered again, voice breaking. “please fuck me.”

he smirked. “you’re learning.”

then he was flipping you onto your stomach, pushing your face into the cushions, his palm pressing against the back of your neck to keep you there.

“stay still.”

you barely had time to catch your breath before he was shoving his cock inside you, stretching you so deep and full in one brutal thrust.

you screamed into the cushions, back arching, body jolting as he bottomed out, his thick length splitting you open.

“fuck,” tom growled, gripping your hips tight, his fingers bruising. “you’re so fucking tight—so wet for me, little one.”

he didn’t give you time to adjust. he fucked you, hard and ruthless, his cock slamming into you over and over, filling you to the hilt, every thrust forcing another moan from your lips.

his hand slid up, curling around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin.

“mine,” he murmured against your ear, his hips snapping against yours, driving himself deeper. “you fucking belong to me.”

he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, fingers smoothing over your bruised skin.

“good girl,” he murmured, voice softer now. “you took me so well.”

but tom wasn’t done yet.

his fingers slid down between your legs, pressing against your abused cunt, pushing his cum deeper inside you.

your breath hitched.

he smirked.

“what’s the matter, little one?” his voice was pure sin. “you didn’t think we were finished, did you?”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[premiumbitch]

۶ৎ LEGACIES & POISONED APPLES: APPLE WHITE MANIFESTATION PACK ˙⋆.˚

This is for the lovely people who want to manifest stuff about themselves or script this in their shifting script! this pack is an apple white theme ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ enjoy!

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝓃𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈

A vision of fairy tale perfection, you are the golden dream whispered through generations. Wherever you go, petals seem to unfurl in your wake, as if nature itself bows before your beauty. You do not simply enter a room—you arrive, like the dawn’s first light spilling across a kingdom still caught in slumber. There is an unshakable certainty in your presence: the world was always meant to adore you.

𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓂 𝒪𝒻 𝒜 𝐹𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒

There is something otherworldly about you, a presence that lingers like the last notes of a lullaby. To look at you is to feel as though one has stepped into a dream—soft, gilded, and infinite. The light always finds you, cradling your features in a perpetual golden hour glow. Your beauty is not just seen; it is felt, a hush of wonder settling over those lucky enough to witness it.

𝐄𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐲 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐺𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝒪𝒻 𝐵𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒶𝒹𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐿𝑒𝑔𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈

You have the kind of wonder that makes the world seem brighter, as if you are forever seeing it for the first time. Wide-eyed, full of curiosity, you exist in a state of eternal enchantment—lips parted in awe, gaze dancing with unspoken stories. There is an innocence in you that tugs at hearts, making even the most hardened souls yearn to shield you from the shadows. You are the softness of a fairytale’s opening pages, the feeling of believing in magic.

𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝒰𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓊𝓃

You are a rose kissed by morning dew, glowing beneath the tender caress of the setting sun. Light clings to you as though afraid to let go, illuminating the effortless grace woven into your every move. Beauty like yours cannot be taught, nor replicated—it simply is. Eyes follow you, mesmerized, caught between reverence and disbelief. How can something so enchanting be real?

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝒾𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉

Even in your most unguarded moments, you remain a vision—messy hair cascading like spun gold, skin kissed with the soft flush of a storybook heroine. There is something untamed about your beauty, like a unicorn lost in an enchanted forest, its ethereal presence stopping travelers in their tracks. No matter where you go, no matter what you do, you remain unforgettable.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐳𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐻𝑜𝓁𝒹𝓈 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈

Your eyes are not just eyes—they are spells woven in silk, capturing hearts with nothing more than a glance. To meet your gaze is to feel one’s breath hitch, a moment of silence stretching between beats. There is something in the way you look at the world that makes it pause, that makes it wonder. Perhaps you are a dreamer, or perhaps you are the dream itself.

𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒴𝑒𝓉 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃

You are full of questions, full of longing, full of an endless hunger for the stories the world has yet to tell. Your beauty mirrors your spirit—alive, seeking, never still. There is wisdom in the way your thoughts move, an intuitive sharpness hidden beneath all the softness. You are the kind of lovely that does not fade, for it is not just skin deep—it is woven into your very being.

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝒪𝒻 𝒪𝓁𝒹 𝒯𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓈

To look at you is to remember—a childhood spent lost in storybooks, the warmth of a parent’s voice reciting tales of princesses and heroes. You are nostalgia wrapped in elegance, a dream so vivid it feels like déjà vu. Perhaps this is why everyone is drawn to you. You are not just beautiful—you are the embodiment of a feeling, the echo of a world that only exists in stories.

𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝓁𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐷𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝐹𝒶𝒹𝑒

Effortlessly poised, endlessly adored—you are grace in its purest form. It is not something you put on; it is something you are. Even in the quietest moments, you hold a regal elegance that surpasses all others. There is a kindness in you, one that cannot be feigned, one that makes others yearn to be better. You love the world in a way that is rare, in a way that makes it love you back.

𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐜𝐡𝐨 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒱𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝒪𝒻 𝒜 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂

Your voice is a melody, a lullaby spun from the finest thread and stardust. There is something about the way you speak that makes people lean in closer, as if afraid to miss even a single word. Whether laughter or whispers, your sound lingers, a delicate enchantment that soothes and mesmerizes. It is not just what you say—it is how you say it.

𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝒾𝒻𝓉 𝒪𝒻 𝐸𝓃𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉

You are more than beautiful—you are magic, the kind of loveliness that does not belong to this world. A living daydream, an enchanted masterpiece, the kind of vision people write poems about. Even the roses envy you, for their petals will wither, but you will remain—eternal, unforgettable, a legend in the making.

𝐑𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐺𝓁𝑜𝓌𝓈

You were never meant to blend in; you were meant to shine. There is something stellar about you, as if the stars conspired to craft your essence. You glow—not just in beauty but in presence. There is an undeniable warmth in your being, a light that does not flicker even in the darkest of places. Others may search for purpose, but you? You are purpose, a beacon of elegance, kindness, and quiet power.

𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐻𝒶𝓁𝓉𝓈 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒

There is an unspoken authority in the way you move—an elegance so effortless it demands attention without ever needing to ask. You do not chase, you do not beg; the world bends to meet you. People find themselves at a loss in your presence, caught between awe and admiration. You are not just a vision—you are a force, the kind of grace that rewrites the air around it.

𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝓃𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝐸𝒻𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉

Your charm is not something you wear—it is something you are. With every step, every word, every glance, you weave a quiet spell that lingers in the air long after you’ve left. There is an effortless magnetism in your presence, a pull that draws others in without them even realizing why. People do not forget you; they cannot. For how could one forget the very embodiment of grace, of refinement, of enchantment itself?

𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒮𝑒𝑒𝓈 𝒜𝓁𝓁

Your mind is a masterpiece—intricate, sharp, endlessly curious. You do not simply accept the world; you question it, you reshape it. Intelligence is woven into the very fabric of your being, a brilliance that gleams through every word, every thought, every knowing glance. You are not just beautiful—you are wise, perceptive, a living legend in the making.

𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝓊𝓁𝓁𝒶𝒷𝓎 𝒪𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓈

There is something about you that feels like a lullaby—soft, sweet, intoxicating. People find comfort in your presence, drawn to the warmth you exude so effortlessly. It is not just your beauty, nor your kindness, nor even your charm. It is you. You make the world feel safer, gentler, as if you are the last remnants of a forgotten dream.

𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒪𝒻 𝒜 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝒀𝑜𝓊 𝒟𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝒲𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒯𝑜 𝐸𝓃𝒹

You are the golden haze of a late summer afternoon, the soft hush of wind through blooming gardens, the sweetness of a memory that lingers long after it has passed. There is something unreal about you, something too delicate, too perfect for this world. It is no wonder people find themselves spellbound in your presence—caught between reality and something far more enchanting.

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓎 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒲𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝐹𝒶𝒹𝑒

You are not delicate like a flower—you are delicate like a storm, powerful even in your softest moments. Beauty, wisdom, charm—all of these are yours, but what sets you apart is your resilience. You do not break; you bend, gracefully, like willow branches in the wind. You are the kind of lovely that does not wane, that does not bow. You endure.

𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝑅𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇

You are the glimmer of a glass slipper beneath moonlight, the heartbeat of a midnight waltz, the fleeting yet unforgettable enchantment of a fairy tale come to life. People may not always understand why they are drawn to you, only that they are. You are beauty in its purest form—elusive, luminous, forever just beyond reach.

𝐒𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝒲𝒽𝑜 𝒟𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

Your grace is not just physical—it is woven into the way you exist, the way you speak, the way you make others feel. There is an elegance in your every motion, a quiet regality that makes you unforgettable. Others may strive for beauty, but you? You are beauty, not just in form but in spirit.

𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐾𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐵𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓂𝓈

You shine in ways that go beyond the surface, in kindness, in warmth, in the quiet way you make others feel seen. You do not simply exist—you light up the world around you. There is a beauty in your heart that surpasses anything tangible, a glow that cannot be dulled. And that, more than anything, makes you extraordinary.

𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒫𝑒𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝐹𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓈

If beauty had a scent, it would be yours—soft, delicate, yet impossible to forget. If grace had a color, it would match the way you move. You are an otherworldly rose, eternally blooming, never wilting. There is no season in which you do not shine, no moment in which your presence does not feel like a gift. You are, and always will be, extraordinary.

[foxglovebells]

Lost Star (Part 5)

Azriel x Rhysand!Sister Reader

Summary: Rhys’s mother and sister, Y/n, were kidnapped and murdered by Tamlin’s family centuries ago. Everyone mourned their deaths but especially Azriel. His mate’s death had changed him and he was never truly the same, he still held onto the hope that you were still alive. Turns out he was right.

Warnings: None really, just a tad bit of angst

Notes: Hi all it’s been a bit… only 1 year and 5 months since the last part! Forgive any typos this was a spur of the moment decision. Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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

Azriel insisted on carrying you yet again. You knew that if you pushed hard enough he would allow you to winnow the both of you, but it had been a long and cruel 2 centuries without each other. So you let him cradle you close to him, your head against his shoulder and your hand against his heart.

The steady rythmique pattern was reassuring. Each beat was calm and steady, and the rise and fall of his chest felt secure. You were safe.

You were safe.

You kept repeating it in your head, worries of the unknown faded in and out of your conscious, usually gone when in the presence of your mate, but still there none the less.

I mean, the unknown is what had gotten you trapped in the first place, how could you ever be sure of anything ever again?

As if sensing your racing thoughts, Azriel tilts his head and places a kiss on your forehead, once again chasing away the worry.

“I love you.” You whisper, looking up at him through innocent eyes.

“I love you, little star.”

That was all that could be said before he was landing on the steps of the radiant palace of day. Guards on pegasus’s lined the area, watching the both of you with calculating eyes, but making no move to stop you.

You began to notice everything immediately. Your talent of observation shooting out and picking up on every detail.

The subtle raise of the head guards brows before he schooled his faced once again. He recognized you from before.

The guard above on the balcony turning to leave the second Azriel’s presence was registered. To notify Helion.

The uneasy glances between some of the guards. They could feel the power radiating from you and Az.

The guard opened the large double doors, signaling your approved entrance. An alliance, seems like your brother was doing a rather good job at being high lord.

Azriel rested a hand on your lower back as you both began to ascend the steps towards the entrance.

The grand entrance was certainly grand, you thought humorously. Helion sure had a knack for gold and extravagances.

Walking along the hallway, you took note of all the many statues and paintings decorating the wall, but you stopped short in front of one of them.

It was a large painting, taking up the entirely of the area in its section. Framed in thick gold swirls, it was set in a garden, one of the royal ones behind this very palace. A gazebo in the background covered in climbing wisteria vines in full bloom, and a table set for tea. The foreground, however, had a simple white bench. But atop that bench was as a young woman lying horizontal across it, one leg was bent while the other lay resting straight beside it. One arm was resting on her stomach while the other was holding an open book in the air above her to shade her eyes from the sun.

And she was laughing. A stomach laugh. One that causes all of the muscles in your body to tense up. One that hits you so hard your eyes are squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners. One where your smile is so wide that every single tooth is on display and your face is hurting from the strain.

You smiled lightly as you gazed up the piece of artwork. “That’s me.” tears sprung to your eyes as you recalled the moment. It was a day you have travelled to the day court alone. Meeting with Helion on urgent business, your book club date. You used the word ‘date’ loosely, he had been one of your closest friends, never crossing that boundary out of respect for the mate that stood by your side.

“It is.” Azriel replies with a smile as he gazes at the canvas version of you. “I stared at it for hours the first time I saw it after he had had it made.”

“When?” Your curiosity showed.

“Had been nearly 5 years after you were gone.” He struggled out. “Helion and Rhys worked together. Rhys took the memory from Helion and showed it to the artist, who recreated it.” Azriel reached out and ran a finger along the side of your face. “Though it never really did your beauty full justice, no matter how hard the artist it was never perfect.”

He leaned down and kissed you softly. Before you could reciprocate it, a loud bang was heard from the grand dining room, where the meeting was being held.

You pulled away and grinned slyly at your mate.

“Stop it, I don’t like that look,” He remarked playfully. “What are you planning.”

“Are you ready for our grand entrance, Azzy?”

“I don’t think I’m ever ready when you cause trouble, little star.” He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear before pulling away and squaring his shoulders. “Alright, y/n, lead the way.”

“Oh no no no, my love, walking straight through the door is never grand enough.” You twirled around and looked at the glass doors out to a balcony. “You go on in Az, pretend you never saw me. Rhys can do a little bit of worrying, just ignore him I won’t be long.”

With a nod Az turned to do as you told him, knowing that you were strong and capable, and you deserved to have a little fun after what you had been through, not that he’d have been able to change your mind anyway. It was easier for him to just let whatever you wanted to happen happen.

Azriel walked to the doors leaded into the grand dining room. They were closed with 2 guards standing on either side to prevent outsiders from entering.

As the guards prepared to open the door to allow him in, he turned back to see where y/n was standing only to see that she was no longer there. Only, the once closed door to the balcony was now ajar, and the curtains were blowing in the wind.

As the doors were pushed open. The chatter in the room ceased as everyone swiveled their heads to see who had entered in the middle of meeting between the most powerful fae in prythian.

“Ah, Shadowsinger!” Helion stood from his place at the head of the table and walked over to where he had just walked in. “Lovely that you could make it.” He held his hand out for Azriel to shake and his took it firmly out of respect.

A simple head nod was all Helion received before Azriel made his way towards His place beside Cassian, standing behind where his high lord and high lady were seated.

He was slightly grateful for the seating arrangement, for it ensured that Rhys could not look at him with questioning eyes. He could feel the scratching talons along his mental shields, but he only let them in long enough to say ‘not now’ , and shutting his shield down and locking the talons out.

He could see Rhys tense in his chair, knowing that he had taken his shortness for bad news. That thought was justified when he saw Feyre lay her hand on his beneath the table for support. He hated having to do this to his high lord, but it was what y/n wanted, and she would always be above anyone else.

Breaking everyone’s attention off Azriel, Tamlin cuts in, “Looks like your dog did heel after all, didn’t he, Rhysand?”

“Cut the crap, Tamlin, do you have to start shit every year?” Feyre snaps before anyone else gets the chance to respond.

“Now,” Helions voice cuts in before more comments can be made. “We are here to discuss politics, not your dramatics, Tamlin.” He walks around the table, opting to grab a drink from the bar rather than taking his seat once again at the head of the table.

“Truly, Tamlin, do you have anything better to do than make every else’s life miserable to be around you.” Bingo. There she was. The commanding purr of her voice sent shivers down everyone’s spine. The infamous night princess who had been dead for centuries was suddenly sat before them all at the head of the table.

Azriel takes a deep breath to hide his smirk and he looks proudly at his mate, who sat tall and confident it the large chair, where Helion once sat.

Her braid was pulled over one shoulder and her wings were neatly tucked behind her back, the epitome of grace and power.

If Azriel had once thought the room was silent he sure was wrong before. The buzz of magic and terror filled the room as each notable person in prythian set eyes on the long lost princess of the night court. Who was supposed to be dead.

She stood suddenly, the chair screeching backwards at the force. Everyone but the night court flinched at the sound of her hands slamming against the ornate table. “Cat got your tongue, Tamlin?” She spewed evilly. The high lords grew incredibly still and y/n glided away from the chair that she had magically appeared in, making her way to walk around the table teasingly.

Each and every person in the room was on the edge of their seats, afraid that if they moved the temper of her would find itself at their mercy. The only 2 people who were more powerful than the high lords in prythian were in the same room at the same time for the first time in centuries. The night court son and daughter had always been a force to be reckoned with. But once y/n had disappeared, so did a piece of the their fear.

Seems they got it back.

“You’re dead!” Beron. The first to break the silence and the first to regret his choice as Y/n’s head whips in his direction.

“Am I?” She unsheathes two knives in the blink of an eye, and in another, they’re flying across the table at the same table and embedding themselves into Beron’s hands. Pinning them face down on the wooden table

That seems to break the silence.

[captain-huggy-bear]

I read your Jack spanking fic and it was sooo good. It got me thinking about Clayton and spanking.

You know how Jack is all marking you up with it as a punishment, a little mean, a little degrading? Clayton is the opposite, like it's so bizarre because he's slapping you but he's being loving about it and gentle and praising and sweet. The best sort of juxtaposition. 18+ MDNI NSFW: Spanking, but it's loving? Flesh described as reddening, oral sex (fem receiving), Clay being feral for his girl, religious analogy/symbolism Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

It starts as all things with Clayton do with his hand connecting with your arse when you walk past him in the living room. Innocent enough, his hand always seeming to find the fat of your bottom, little taps, or a light squeeze, grasping at the flesh because God, does Clayton love your arse.

If you asked him he'd say he was an everything man. He loved your tits, your arse, your hips, thighs, stomach, face, your entire body. If you watched his behaviour? You'd probably say that he was most definitely fond of your arse over most other things, even if he'd deny it.

The slap to your arse has you squealing, turning to glare at him fondly and it's the way your arse jiggles under his palm that has him pressing his hands to your hips to pull you closer, insatiable now he's had a feel. It doesn't matter that you had things to do, doesn't matter that he was supposed to be rewatching his most recent game, to get notes for the team on how to improve. All that matters is your arse under his palm.

"Clayton." You try to pull away from him, rolling your eyes at the way his pupils start to take over the blue of his irises, the way he looks at you hungry and wanting and all you've done is walk past in an old dress, nothing new, nothing special, nothing revealing or fancy.

"Baby..." He's pouting. You know it's a pretence because the truth is Clayton doesn't whine or pout, Clayton tells you what to do, when to do it and how to do it. He leads...and right now he's using a different tool in his arsenal to gently lead you to bend over his lap and let him spank you, a predatory glint in his eyes telling you he knows exactly what card he's playing from his hand. Crafty bastard. There is and probably never will be anything submissive about him, even when he's pretending to be.

"No. I have laundry to do."

"Just let me, just for a little while, i'll do the laundry for you after, I promise. Just want to mark you up a little and show this ass some love, please? Sweet girl..." He's pulling out the big guns. Big blue puppy dog eyes, soft little pout that has his bottom lip almost irresistibly plump, that name... He looks so good and...and maybe you can leave the laundry for just a little while longer, just long enough for him to get what he wants right now because fuck, you do love when he's like this...it's not just for his benefit and it's been a while.

"Clay..." You're not even struggling as he pulls you down to the couch, your knees pressing into the space besides him, the perfect position to lean you over his thighs in a minute, when you give in. You're so close to it. He can see it in the way your thighs rub together slightly, how you're biting your bottom lip, following his direction even as your words protest. You always let him lead you, so good for him like that...

"You know you want to, wanna be good for me don't you? You're always my good girl, can't break that now, huh?" It's like a magic phrase for him, the moment he even suggests you might be anything but his good, sweet, wonderful girl, you're letting him bend you over his lap. Your hips pressed into him, arse in the air, head on your arms.

"Always good for you, Clay..." Your head going a little hazy, falling into that headspace Clay so often gets you into where all you want is to be good for him. All you want is his love, his affection, to please him in whatever way suits best. Whatever way he wants.

"I know, baby, so good for me." His large hands are smoothing over your back, shivers running down your spine the lower he gets until he's running strokes over the fat of your arse cheeks, down the backs of your plush thighs. Long fingers tug at the skirt of your dress until it's pushed up and out of the way, fabric resting on the small of your back, the globes of your arse in the silly little snoopy panties you had left on laundry day, visible to his hungry stare.

"Fuck, baby...look so fucking good like this, y'know that? So pretty..." Clay traces the edge of your panties, the little scalloped edge that runs along the crease of each of your cheeks, dipping a finger just slightly between your thighs, just enough to watch you shudder in his lap.

It's not just his touch that makes you keen, whimper falling from your throat like a prayer, it's the way he talks to you. The low, rough cadence of his voice as he tells you how amazing you are, how pretty, how good. The way he praises you for nothing more than lying over his lap for him like a good little girlfriend. The praise is enough to make you dizzy, enough to make you pliant, legs parting slightly so he can roll your panties down your hips and off. So he can see the soft flesh of your arse, the slick wetness at your centre, the one birth mark at the top of your right thigh that he always loves to press a kiss to.

Clayton can't resist it right now either, bending forward over you to press his lips to that spot, as he sucks the mark into his mouth determined to leave his own mark behind. You gasp as the cold of his chains falls against your skin, as the warmth of his breath is so close to your centre that it makes you squirm, moaning slightly into the flesh of your arm.

Clay's hands clasp your hips tightly, stopping your wriggling, "I've got you, baby, hey, be good for me, yeah? Promise you'll get to cum, but not yet, okay?"

It goes unsaid that he wants his fun first, wants to see your arse red, flushed with warmth that it's practically hot to the touch. He loves making you feel good, but this needs to come first, you need to be so good for him, patient and he knows you can be, knows you can do it.

You're unable to really verbalise anything, head nodding frantically in encouragement, hand reaching back for him and he lets you grasp his left hand, fingers twisting with yours grounding and solid.

His right smooths over your arse, soft and gentle, easing you in before a sharp little smack sounds out, your flesh jiggling under his palm, ring digging in slightly to your skin, but not unkindly. It's relatively light handed, just enough to make you gasp, just enough of a sting to ease you in, flesh going slightly pink beneath his touch. But, it's enough, enough to have you dripping between your thighs, hips shifting for any point of contact, any friction on your clit even if it's just the fabric of his sweatpants.

"God, you're so pretty, baby...prettiest ass in the world, y'know that? Never seen anyone prettier." Half the slick between your legs is from his words, the dirty tone combined with the sweetest compliments, like you're the star of the show.

The next slap is harder, still controlled, contained, not wanting to actually hurt you. It leaves your skin red, not pink, flushing beneath his palm and the way you jolt, the way you moan at the feeling of his palm connecting with your arse has him straining in his sweatpants. Dick pressing against your tummy where you're laying over him, evidence of his desire for you causing you to squirm, fingers tightening where he's still holding your hand.

"Uh uh, baby, gotta stay still for me. You can do that, right? You're so good for me, c'mon..." His fingers disentangle from yours, arm coming to rest across your lower back, keeping your hips in place. Clayton maintains an air of control even as his voice grows rougher from how you were squirming against his cock, almost impossible to ignore. But, he's not done, not yet.

"Clay..." You're a moaning mess, face pressed into your arm, back arcing to push your arse into his hands, thighs spread wide, slick dripping down your thighs.

After each slap Clay's hand rubs across the reddened flesh, almost blisteringly hot beneath his touch, gentle and loving because even this is just an extension of his devotion to you. This isn't a punishment, this isn't an admonishment, it's an act of worship.

The way your arse reddens, the shape of his palm almost legible in your skin, his mark on your flesh, the hickey over your birthmark just at the very tip top of your thigh... The way your face turns on your arm to look up and over at him, eyes wet with tears, face flush, lips spit slick...fuck.

He can't help it, the way his palm stops, fingers gliding over the hot flesh of your arse cheek before dipping between your spread thighs. You're fucking soaked, so slick that it coats his fingers without much effort on his part.

"Fuck, baby, you're soaked...This all for me, sweet girl?" He brings two slick coated fingers up, enough for you to see them through watery eyes, to see the way he eyes your slick like it's a prize, tongue licking out over his bottom lip, his breathing heavy, laboured.

"All for you, Clay..." You whimper out, struggling to even do that. Eyes growing wide, breathing heavier when Clay brings his fingers to his mouth and between his lips to taste you, licking your slick from his skin like it's his favourite treat. The way he groans around his fingers is almost a religious experience.

"Taste as sweet as you look, baby, fuck." He's not even lying, you're his favourite taste. Tangy and you, just you. One taste is enough for him to know he needs more, that fucking you might be great but eating you out right now? Now that would be divine. "Up we get, baby, gotta taste you..."

He's moving you with ease, swapping until you're sat on the couch instead of him legs spread wide and Clay kneeling between them, his hands on your knees to push them further apart. He looks so good like that, hair falling into his eyes, chains falling out of his t-shirt. His eyes are so dark, pupils blown completely, lips reddened from where he's bitten them and the fact he's there like that, kneeling before you like you're an altar? Fuck...

He dives in so fast, lips going straight to your clit sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth, that your hands are grasping for his hair, tugging, head thrown back with an almost violent moan. He can't help that he's moaning too, groaning into your cunt, you taste so fucking good. He can't help leaving your clit behind in favour of pressing his mouth over your slit, tongue pressing forward to collect your slick, the taste he's so addicted to being drawn into his mouth.

Each tug on his hair pulls at his roots and goes straight to his cock, your thighs bracketing his ears press in as they slip over his shoulders, your heels pressing into his back and he'd die there. Happily. Let him drown in your cunt and die giving you pleasure because it must just be the best way to go out.

Clay's fingers find your clit, circling lightly as his devours your cunt, tongue pressing into you, lips suckling, seeking out more of your taste. Your pleasure is almost an after thought, his main goal seeking more of you, the side effect being the way you squirm, hips rocking into his face, moans almost continuously dropping from your throat as your eyes squeeze shut.

He's almost certain he's going to cum in his pants like a teenager, so hard he's throbbing, almost painful, free hand reaching down to palm himself through the fabric as he moans into you.

He knows you're close by the way your thighs close harsh against his head, the way you start to try to squirm away, his arm coming around your hips to keep you close, drawing you into him rather than away. Fingers pressing more harshly around your clit, circling to the left where you're most sensitive until you're freezing, clenching around his tongue, as your whole body surrenders to the sensation.

He doesn't stop after you've cum, licking at your oversensitive cunt until you're pushing him away by the shoulders, almost begging him to stop.

The way he looks at you when he does deserves to be painted. Knelt between your legs panting, hair across his wide eyes, lips parted, red and slick with your cum, his chin and jaw just as wet, wet dark patch on the groin of his sweats where he'd come from tasting you...a devotional supplicant to the altar that is you.

[fayes-fics]

Ruination: I

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Rescue & Ruin. Meeting Anthony at midnight in the grounds of Aubrey Hall would only ever have one outcome...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Innocence/corruption kink, breast/nipple play, guided/assisted masturbation, frottage, orgasms.

Word Count: 2.0k

Author's Note: Request fill for @corpseoftrees-queen, who requested a sequel to Rescue and Ruin almost two years ago now. Sorry that it's taken me so long to write this. As partial recompense, there will be at least one more fic to accompany this (hence the 'I' in the title). Beta read by the amazing @colettebronte. Enjoy! <3

It’s just after midnight as you escape silently out of a side door of Aubrey Hall. Furtively moving only amongst the shadows as you make your way towards the lake, shimmering beguilingly in the bright moonlight—doing your very best not to be seen by any possible prying eyes. You want no one to know of your scandalous plans. 

To meet one Viscount Bridgerton out here under the stars and all the tempting things he offers. 

You know if you are found out, it will be your ruin…. And yet you are powerless to do anything but. Moving as if your feet are possessed, a fever that has been coursing through you since your exhilarating encounter mere hours ago.

Thus, butterflies in your tummy, you edge along the dense, high bushes, looking for the gap you vaguely recall emerging from. Suddenly, a strong arm wraps around you, yanking you backwards through the thick foliage; before you can even squeak, another hand clamps over your mouth.

“Shh, do not be alarmed,” he dusks into your ear instantly, and immediately your body blooms.

Anthony.

All six feet of him pressed against your back, the smooth leather of his boots brushing your bare calves, his hand hot through your cotton nightgown where he grips tightly around your waist.

“I knew you would not disappoint,” he declares, the hand over your mouth releasing, slipping lower, fingers dancing over your collarbone. “Such intense curiosity, needing sating.”

Something in his tone is decadent, tastes of rebellion and desire, thick and honeyed like treacle. You want everything he is willing to offer, consequences be damned.

“Sate me,” you beseech, twisting to nuzzle his jaw, throwing all caution to the wind.

He makes a sound that is almost a growl, his fingers curling into your belly.

“Oh sweet one, you have no idea of what you speak….” His cadence is throatier and breathy. “But it would be my complete pleasure to teach you some. Perhaps not all,” he concedes. “I am a gentleman, after all,” he offers without a trace of irony it deserves. “Just enough to make you insatiably… enthusiastic.”

You feel the curve of his cheek as he smiles against your temple, the hand at your clavicle tracing lower, inching over your skin until it skirts the neckline of your nightgown.

“What say you?” He queues and you realise he is waiting, waiting for you to give him your permission.

“Please….” You rag and inhale sharply as his fingers slip under the cotton.

He teases your areola with the barest of grazes, but it still has you shuddering. Your skin their puckering tightly

“So sensitive,” he murmurs, sounding pleased, stoking a molten fire somewhere deep inside.

The hand at your waist smears heavily upwards over your ribcage, rucking the gown over your knees until it, too, slips inside your neckline. Both hands now tease featherlight circles around your nipples, which is at once too much and somehow also not enough. 

“More….” 

It’s a panted whisper that slips from your lips unbidden as you close your eyes and sag back against him.

“Greedy little thing,” he chuckles, but it seems to spur him on.

He abruptly pinches your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers; the sharp spike of sensation makes you gasp. A lighting bolt zips down between your legs. A throb there as he releases them that would cause you consternation, were it not so so good.

Anthony hums gently, more than a little cocky, as his teeth nip your earlobe.

“That’s it, you love that?”

You moan as he does it again, changes pressure, twisting his grip so his warm hands cup the curve of your breasts, cradling them as you begin to writhe against him instinctively. 

“Wrap your hands around my neck, sweet one,” he commands gently. “Lean into that exquisite feeling.”

And so you do: eyes still closed as you raise your arms and blindly loop them around his neck, tendrils of the hair at his nape tickling your wrist bones as you lock your fingers together, if nothing else, an anchor for your weakening legs.

“Gooood,” he elongates the word so it drips into your ear.

You undulate into his hands, sighing every time he teasingly retreats his fingers a fraction away, you tilting to chase his touch.

“You are so perfect,” he groans, pinching a little harsher this time so you vocalise, wanting him to do this forever, never to stop.

He nudges your cheek until his lips meet yours, and then fireworks explode behind your closed lids as he kisses you. Deeply, all-encompassing, his tongue invading, swiping yours in sync with his finger staccatoing your nubs. You moan wantonly into his mouth, unable not to, awash in novel sensation.

“Do you think you could reach a peak just like this?” He breathes right into your open mouth, licking along the jagged edge of your teeth covetously.

“I do not know what that means,” you confess with hushed honesty, your eyes fluttering open to his hungry stare piercing your soul. Only knowing there is something hot and urgent rising in your body—dangerous, luscious, addictive.

“They teach you young ladies nothing,” he condemns before tugging both of your nipples harshly forward, a sharp metallic zing blooming on your tongue as you buck into him as the slightly rough treatment just heightens your yearning. “And yet… look how much you need it without even knowing.”

Lightheaded already, you cannot believe that just his hands inside your nightgown could make you feel like this. But suddenly, they are gone, and you cry out on instinct, the loss acute, hardened, peaked nipples rasping the fabric.

“Take off your gown,” Anthony tutors, unlinking your hands from around his neck and taking a step back.

Scrambling to obey, you cross your arms and rapidly tug the material up and off without a second thought, just so very keen for him to assuage that deep ache. A dampness between your thighs that is slick, viscous.

You can hear his laboured breathing as he slowly prowls a circle around you, his gaze seeming like a heavy robe even as your flesh erupts with goosebumps in the swirl of cool night air. Scrunching your toes into the damp grass to stop you from swaying, an anticipatory jangling in your nerves for what he will do next. 

He comes to a halt in front of you. 

“Look at me.”

You tilt up your chin at his soft order, meeting his eyes; the intensity and beauty steal your breath. His darkened pupils reflect the bright moon, his cheekbones in stark relief.

“Do you wish to know more?”

You bite your lip and nod vigorously, locking your knees at the velvety tone he employs.

With a hungry noise, he hauls you into his arms, your chest colliding with the stiff cotton of his shirt, a hard bulge pressing into your belly through his tickly woollen britches as once again he kisses you. Stealing your breath, plundering your mouth. A thrill zipping over your skin, like you are caught out in a thunderstorm. He hunches down, hands sliding down to grasp your buttocks firmly; you squeak over his lips as he pulls you up onto tiptoes, rutting slightly against you.

“Sweet one, I crave to ruin you. Ruin you in ways so you would never even think to look at another man,” he warns darkly, and it sounds like just the fire you want to burn in.

But then he stills, as if muzzling himself and sighs heavily into your neck, breath hot and moist.

“Alas, ‘tis not fair to do such, even if I burn to…” 

It sounds like regret and yearning all at once. You whimper, hankering for something you know you need even without knowing what it is—-an elusive eden just beyond your grasp.

“I want you to.”

You entreat, moving your hands from the anchor of his shoulders to cup his jaw, bringing his conflicted gaze to meet yours. 

“Ruin me, Viscount Bridgerton.”

Your bold beseechment flips a switch in him, and he snarls, his nostrils flaring. Before you know it, you are swept off your feet and placed on your back on the cool, dewy grass, the moon almost dazzling over his shoulder.

He hovers over you on all fours, eyes raking over your form as if deciding what to do next. 

After a moment, a light seems to go off behind his captivating eyes, and he grabs your wrist and guides a hand down towards the apex of your thighs.

“Touch yourself,” he implores.

Somehow, you know without asking what he means. A throb that demands attention. Without hesitation, your fingers plough into your slit, and you are taken aback by how swollen you are there, how soaked your flesh is. Your body cants up, a moan escaping as you swipe over a hardened nub, a riot running through every cell at this mere brush.

Anthony groans, and his hand closes over yours, guiding your movement. You can feel his fingertips between your swollen lips, even if it’s your own pad pressed against that bundle of nerves.

He mutters a curse and presses more insistently, puppeting your hand like a sinful marionette, noises from between your legs that sound filthy but only seem to make him more desperate, lowering himself to rhythmically press that swelling into your thigh. 

“That’s it, chase it, my sweet,” he encourages, a baritone rumble that seems to echo from his ribcage into yours.

You spiral higher, your breath harsh pants, your muscles twitching, somewhere inside clenching as if it needs something to grip onto.

“Do not fucking stop,” he urges through clenched teeth, his desperation and crude language ratcheting you higher, a heat boiling in your veins.

Your digits are just passive under his now, letting him direct your pleasure; be the one to push you beyond, even if the touch is indirect.

Then, a dam breaks within you, and your whole body goes tense as moisture gushes from within, coating your fingers and his. You explode into a thousand tiny fragments and snap back together, heart pounding, every nerve afire. Calling out so loud, his other hand briefly clamping over your mouth again, muffling your hoarse cries that echo above the trees into the night sky. He gruffs for you to hush but in a tone laced with pride in what he has wrought.

As you float somewhere among the twinkly stars above, your lungs still heaving, he guides your slack, soaked fingers up to his face and plunges them between his hot lips, his moans vibrating your fingernails. 

In a partial daze, detached but mesmerised at how untamed he is, you watch him chasing his pleasure now—sucking your fingers so hard, repeatedly rutting into your thigh over and over until his whole body tenses. There is a ripple against your quad as he collapses over you, your fingers buried deep in his mouth, a warm, sticky bloom seeping through the wool of his trousers as he collapses over you.

“Anthony…” you appeal softly after a few moments, his weight almost too much to bear and with a grunt, he rolls to one side, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into an embrace as you lay on your sides.

“I do believe I have not soiled my britches as such since I was a teen; look what you have wrought from me,” he contends.

There is a brief moment when you fear you have wronged him, but then you catch his eye and see nothing but a twinkle of mischief and a handsome smirk. He is teasing you.

“There’s just something about you….” he hums, his knuckles caressing your cheekbone, the scent of your arousal still potent on his hand as you nudge into his touch. “You bring out the very best…. and very worst… in me. It took all I had not to ruin you right here,” he smiles, leaning down to claim a brief, soft kiss.

“I am not yet ruined, my lord?” you frown, and that makes him chuckle.

“Oh, we are just getting started, sweet one,” his silky voice laden with promise. “And I will be here again, midnight tomorrow, waiting for you. And for as many nights as you wish it…”

And what a beguiling idea that is.

masterlist • wips • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

Anthony taglist pt1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @eleanor-bradstreet @divaani @musicismyoxygen84 @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @fern-reads @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor @hanji-emo-blog @y0ur-favgerman @sya-skies @urfavnoirette @cinnamoodles @blackdxggr @alexandrainlove

[cyberlillies]

panty obsessed caleb headcanons!

caleb who used to steal your underwear from the laundry to secretly jerk himself off in his loneliest nights, back when confessing his feelings for you still felt a sin to him. this started his obsession with your panties, directing all his lust for you into the innocent garments.

panty obsessed caleb! who after getting into a relationship with you, has stopped hiding his fascination with your undergarments. he actively orders all kinds of lingerie, some skimpy and lacy, others demure and patterned, and makes you wear them around him.

panty obsessed caleb! who has developed a code with you based on the panties you wear. if you wear red, you want it gentle and passionate. if you wear white, almost transparent, you want to get creampied by him. if you wear a thong exposing your entire ass, you want him to spank you till you're red and sore. emerald for days you want to act bratty and need him to tame you, whereas blue calls for his mouth on you for hours. don't worry, several multicolored ones exist for days you want two, or three, or all of the options at once.

panty obsessed caleb! who loves teasing you by giving you a mean wedgie. it doesn't matter what you're doing. you could be in the kitchen doing the dishes, studying for an exam, or in bed with him, his hands would reach for the sides of your panties, pulling them harshly up your sides before you could resist, the cloth digging into your sensitive clit, eliciting boner-stirring reactions from you every single time.

panty obsessed caleb! who loves fingering you through the material of your panties, the cloth digging into your hole, soaking in your juices, making them stick and sculpt to the shape of your folds. when you're not looking, or are too dizzy to notice, he sneakily clicks a pic of your dripping clothed cunt for future purposes.

panty obsessed caleb! who is just as obsessed with mouthing you over your panties, slathering them with his spit. he's bumping his nose on the material, drowning in your scent and sucking and biting on your clit through it. you have no idea how he can pinpoint the exact areas to assault with the cloth covering your pussy. answer: he's practiced this a million times in his fantasies.

panty obsessed caleb! who will drag his cock through your folds while you're still wearing panties. he's carefully covering himself with them, his tip forming a wet patch of his cum on the material with every thrust. enjoy the link <3 (x)

panty obsessed caleb! who will soil your panties in all your bodily fluids during sex. your arousal is already tainting them, next he wants your spit. so he gags your sweet moans with the panties, holding them in your mouth as he runs the material all over your wet cavern, even going as far as pushing down your throat till his fingers hit your gag reflex.

panty obsessed caleb! who loves playing with your panties during sex. he's clutching them in his fists, his head thrown back as he sniffs into them, his cock steadily pumping into you. he's so lost in pleasure that he'll fling the panties across your skin lazily, lightly hitting your cheeks, neck, and then finally settling them on your perky breasts, the view a treat for him as he launches an animalistic pace into you.

panty obsessed caleb! who pockets your panties after sex, and you will never see them again. maybe he's collecting them, maybe he's building a shrine. you don't care, as long as he's completely and utterly addicted to you <3

panty obsessed caleb! who, when you're loose enough after several rounds of his relentless pounding, uses his fingers to stuff part of your panties into you alongside his cock. his brain short circuits, he can see the panties he so carefully selected spilling out of your hole while he's fucking your sweet cunt and feeling your panties against his length at the same time.

 

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

Fingers Intertwined

pairing: kaz brekker x wife!reader

genre: fluff

requested: yes

el's thoughts: i haven't written for kaz in a while, and the last time i did i was writing tpatc and it's very different from this kaz... but i hope i didn't lose my touch hahaha

kaz masterlist

Kaz Brekker did not hold hands.

That much was a well known fact.

He did not wrap an arm around anyone’s waist, did not let someone lean into his side as they walked. He did not allow softness in a place like Ketterdam, where softness got you killed. And yet—here he was, threading through the shadowed alleys with Y/N’s fingers laced between his own, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t that he disliked it—no, Kaz had long since come to terms with the fact that Y/N had a way of bypassing his usual aversions without even trying. A casual brush of her hand here, a fleeting touch there, and suddenly his body had started learning that her touch wasn’t a threat. It was warmth. It was safety. It was simply her.

But the real problem was the looks.

He could feel the stares burning into him from the dim-lit streets, the way the few who recognized him faltered in their steps, eyes darting to where his gloved fingers curled so easily around hers, her diamond ring on display. He was Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. He was not the kind of man who strolled around holding hands with his wife.

And yet, here he was.

He should have seen it coming, really. The moment Y/N walked into his life, Kaz had known—deep in that part of him that he rarely acknowledged—that she was going to be trouble, stir the waters of his life. Not in the way most people were trouble for him. No, she was his kind of trouble.

She had slipped into Ketterdam like a whisper against the tide, moving through the Barrel with quiet confidence, always watching, always listening. She had been careful, at first, keeping her distance from him. But then she spoke. And that was the first crack.

She had a way of talking to him like he was just a man—not a myth, not a monster. She met his sharp edges with unwavering patience, never pushing, never prying. And yet, somehow, she had gotten past all his walls without even trying.

He hadn’t realized how far he had fallen until it was too late. Until he caught himself watching her instead of his surroundings, until his hands started reaching for hers before his mind could catch up. Until she leaned close to him one evening, her breath barely ghosting against his jaw, and murmured, “You care for me, don’t you?”

And Kaz—ruthless, cold, untouchable Kaz—had not been able to lie.

So he had married her. Because there was no one else in the world he trusted with his name, with his future, with the fragile, broken thing in his chest that still dared to beat.

“Are you aware,” he murmured now, low enough for only her to hear, “that you do an awful lot of public displays of affection?”

Y/N barely glanced up at him, utterly unfazed as she adjusted her grip on his hand, squeezing gently. “Is that your way of telling me to stop?”

Kaz exhaled through his nose. “I didn’t say that.”

She turned her head toward him, a soft, amused smile tugging at her lips. “So you don’t mind?”

He could have lied. Could have let his pride dictate his answer. But the thing was, if he truly minded, he wouldn’t have let her do it in the first place. Afterall, he was still the Bastard of the Barrel

Kaz glanced down at their joined hands, then back up at her expectant face. “I mind the staring,” he admitted. “But not this.”

Her expression softened, and before he could react, she stopped walking, tugging him to a halt. Without hesitation, she lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to his gloved knuckles, completely ignoring the way a drunkard down the street sputtered at the sight.

Kaz sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re not making this any better.”

Y/N grinned up at him and tilted her head in faux innocence, the dim alley light casting a glow over her features. “Better for who?”

He shook his head, exasperated, but didn’t let go of her hand.

And when they started walking again, Kaz Brekker—the infamous Dirtyhands—kept holding on.

[vivispost]

cw: MDNI psuedo-cest, refers to reader as "little sister", caleb is a pervert, hints of corruption kink, MDNI

big stepbrother!caleb who misses his little sister so much :(.. since the explosion after going into hiding, caleb can't help but yearn for you so deeply! I mean, he hasn't seen you in months so can you really blame him ˵ˊᯅˋ˵!!...

He especially misses you on days in which he is left tired and stressed after fleet training just like today. Alone in his room, face and bare chest illuminated by the holographic screen in front of him showcasing his cute little sister. He can't help but let a small smile escape his lips as he scrolls through more and more pictures of you along the screen. He wishes you could be here with him, the photos only leaving him more desperate as he holds onto his necklace as if it were you, it was the only thing he had from you after all. His eyes scanning your plush skin, pink lips, and big eyes. Fuck he was so turned on (,,•﹏•,,)! He missed his little sister so so much! He can't help but touch himself at the seemingly innocent photos of you on his screen right now. Hand running down his torso before he softly groped his hardening dick through his sweats, wishing it was you. He always imagined you'd be shy, softly touching him through your embarrassment as you looked up at him through your full lashes. You always second guessed yourself in most things and he has no doubt that you would be no different in a situation like this, softly groping him as he is now. He can already hear you softly asking him if you're doing it right, biting his lip at the thought of it. You were just so cute ⸝⸝><⸝⸝!! Your hands would definitely feel a hundred times better than his do right now though.. but he'll take what he can get! Afterall, just the thought of his sweet sister on her knees for him is enough to help him reach his high ˃ᴗ˂! He really tries to go as slow and softly as he would expect you to but he just grew too impatient and before he knows it his sweats are lowered as he's furiously stroking his thick dick, slick from the quickly beading precum along the angry red tip as he practically burns holes into your photos with how he's staring at them ꯁ.̮ꯁ. Lip caught between his teeth as his brows knit together, whimpers of your name leave his bitten lips wishing you were there making him feel like this ╥﹏╥!! His hand moves faster and faster as the slick noises and his moans grow louder while imagining his own hand is your smaller hand along his dick. His abs tighten with final breath of your name as he finally reaches his climax, his cum getting all over his hand and torso as he continues to stroke himself slowly slightly wimpering through the overstimulation. His muddled mind becoming clearer with his face flushed and muscles relaxing, he notices the mess he had made along his lower torso and he can't help but imagine how you would clean him up. Your kitten licks as you experimently lick and suck his seed from his long fingers before kissing along his cock and abs to get the rest... Fuck.. he's hard again (っ◞‸◟c).

❥𓂃𓏧A/N: My first time writing something like this... (^^) My mind has just been soaked in gege brainrot, I couldn't help writing something up for him..

[tillysketch]

An Interesting Read

Spawn Astarion x Female! Reader Oneshot (6K) 18+

Summary: While solving the Bhaal cult murders, you stumble across a book in Elminster's library.

Sorry its hella long, I'm just a conduit for the writing, and it demanded to be lengthy. (That's what she- nevermind...)

The minute you’d set foot back into the Gate, it seemed like everyone and their mother needed your help with something. From recovering lost mail, to now finding a missing dominatrix dwarf, it looks like your list of things to do only continues to grow. Not even to mention your own personal quest of oh, I don’t know, saving Faerun from an illithid invasion. Despite that however, the ability to turn away someone in need was never a strong point of yours. 

You find yourself reading through the spines on the shelves of the dwarf Ffion’s personal pleasure room at Sharess’ Caress, looking for any sort of clue of where she might have gone. Or, what might have happened to her… The latter seeming more likely at this point. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you pull a purple leather bound book off the shelf. 

1,001 Ways to Pleasure your Partner, No Matter their Species 

You open the book, and are immediately mortified by some of the things you read. Your face grows warmer by the second and your heart kicks in your chest. Hastily, you put the book back after seeing a vivid depiction that you won’t be able to be rid of soon. Astarion just laughs, no doubt that his ears pick up your quickening pulse... “Oh, you innocent little babe.”

“Some of these are just absurd.” You wave your hand at the shelf of smut and ‘instruction manuals’.  “I mean, gags, flogging-”

“Absurd? Hardly.” He grabs the book off the shelf to look through it himself. “I could see some of this being fun, under the right circumstances.” He gives you a look with a raised brow, and your stomach flips. “With the right partner…” 

“No, don’t you even start,” you warn with a pointed finger. 

“Oh, come on…” He gives you a half smile. As soon as you turn around, he slips the book into his pack. 

“Put it back, love.” You reply without even looking over your shoulder, wandering over the other various titles on the shelf with cautious eyes.

“Killjoy…” He scoffs, replacing it back into its slot. 

“If you two lovebirds are quite finished, I found a note in Ffion’s diary over here,” Gale calls from across the room. Grateful for the interruption, you join him at the desk and read over the note for yourself. 

“The Flophouse, huh…” You nod. “Looks like we’re going there next then.” 

“Goody, I so missed that old ramshackle slum.” Astarion chimes in with false glee. He snaps another book shut with a pinched hand and a dramatic sigh. 

“You could always head back to camp, instead of helping us investigate. I’m sure Shadowheart would love the help with getting dinner prepared for everyone.” You reply with a tilt of your head to give him a look that says, ‘pick your poison, love’. 

“Darling, you and I both know that I am the worst cook of our group, and likely to give everyone food poisoning. Besides,” he gives you a snarky grin, “I’d prefer to not let you out of my sight- not after what happened back at the circus..”

“How was I supposed to know that clown was going to try and kill me?” 

“Seemed obvious enough to me that something fishy was going on with him.” Wyll finally pipes up, as he shuts the doors to an armoire full of little nothings made of leather and silk. 

“And yet it was you who encouraged me to get up on stage with him? Some friend you are.” You snort and furrow your brows at him, though you never could be truly upset at Wyll. 

“Are we done here? I’d rather not linger.” Gale asks.

“Agreed.” You nod, eager to leave the sordid building. 

_____

Days later, your investigation had led you to the Elfsong Tavern, where Duke Stelmane was found brutally murdered. Surely, this couldn’t be coincidence- it must be linked to the other murders you’d been tracking. As awful as it is though, the grisly death meant that you and your companions could stay at the Elfsong for a smaller fee; due to the fact that no one wanted to stay in the shared group room on the same floor that a woman was killed. 

You’d been looking over a map of the city, laid out on a desk in the room, when Astarion strolled by with a sly smile on his face. 

“Do you remember that book from Elminster's Library?” 

‘Ugh, don’t remind me…” You reply, looking up from the map. 

Astarion pulls that same purple leather book out from behind his back, “I’ve been doing some interesting reading. Care to put some of my studying to use?” 

“You ass!” Your mouth hangs open for a second before you hiss, “You stole from a dead person?” Lashing out, you try to snag the book from his hand.

“As if you haven’t?” He laughs, holding it just out of grasp above your outstretched fingers. 

“This is different, she was an innocent civilian- okay maybe innocent isn’t the right word- but you know what I mean! She was murdered, and we were hired to investigate.” You jump and swipe at the book above your head. “It just feels wrong, is all I’m trying to say.”

”Oh, you’re too much of a saint. It was just going to collect dust on that shelf anyway. Or, it would have fallen into someone else’s less dexterous fingers..” He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, the book still held high in the air. With a wolfish grin, he stares down at you, and hands you the book in surrender. “If you insist though…”

“Thank you.” His playful mood is infectious. “I have a better idea of what we can do with this anyways.” You spin and he follows after you, curiosity at an absolute high. 

“What are you planning, little minx?” He chuckles beside you. Gale had left maybe an hour ago to go Sorcerer Sundries to look at their books on Netheril, Karsus, and any other information that would be useful. He should be gone for a while, which means you would have time to plant the book on his bed without getting caught in the act. You open the book and quickly thumb through it to find the most scandalous passage and the accompanying image it contains. 

“Really? That’s your idea of a prank? Gods, you really are just so devious aren’t you?” Astarion says flatly with a roll of his eyes. 

“What would you suggest, oh, high and mighty one?” You cross your arms and huff. 

“Well, if you’re trying to make it look like the book is his, you need to add a few more elements to the crime scene.” He grabs a small bottle of grease, and a rag both from his own pack, and places both on the nightstand next to the bed. “There. Now, we get the hell out of here.” He turns and walks back out of the room, giggling to himself like a child. You trail after him, snickering as well, your hand covering your mouth. 

Astarion waits for you just outside the room and you both crack up again, imagining Gale’s flustered gasp and blushed face when he finds the scene the two of you so perfectly orchestrated. 

“Are we bad people?” You dab at your eyes with a snort. 

“Darling, we’re the best kind of people. I’m just sorry that we won’t be around to see his stupid face when he sees it all.”

“Oh be nice- his face isn’t stupid,” you shake your head, still unable to contain the girlish laughs. 

“It most certainly is- that smug look of his he always wears…”

”You’re awful.” 

___________

It’s been a week since Astarion’s triumph over Cazador, and he still has yet to speak more than a few words here or there to you. His face looks less careworn, but you can tell he’s heavily processing all of what his new freedom means; as well as the loss of what he could have had- had he gone through with the ascension. In the last two weeks alone, it’s been nothing but go, go, go. Solving murders, quietly performing murders of your own (though those were all justified, truly) and running wild through the city trying to right wrongs, left and right. Each day brought new horrors, and it felt like you constantly had eyes following you through the streets. 

Exhaustion seeps into every crevice of your sore and aching body. You, Gale, Karlach, and Dame Aylin had defeated the great wizard Lorroakan, after he’d tricked you into bringing the Nightsong to him. The others had been further investigating the sewers to hopefully find the temple of Bhaal and the murder tribunal.The fight between you and Lorroakan was long, and brutal- all kinds of Elemental constructs hurled everything they had at you. Burns and cuts littered your body where your armor didn’t quite cover. 

Now, safely back at the Elfsong Tavern, you gather up a towel, a nightgown, and a hairbrush to go take a long and well deserved bath. There’s blood in your hair, your ears, your neck- it’s going to take ages to scrub it all off you. Everyone is just as thoroughly tired. Astarion however, seems rather chipper. Suspiciously so, even. 

Not expecting much of a reaction back, you give him a small smile when you pass him on your way to the bathing chambers. The warm smile he returns softens your heart. “Any luck with the investigation?” You ask him. 

“No.. nothing of note yet. But we did discover more of the sewers- a new section which we had previously overlooked.” 

“Oh good..” You nod impressed. “You’ll have to tell me more about it when I come to bed.” You suggest with a smile. 

“Actually, could I come sit and talk with you while you bathe?” He asks with a soft hopeful look in his eyes. 

“Of course.” 

___

He helps you scrub the dried blood from your hair, gently combing his fingers through the tangles and clumps. The first small act of intimacy you’ve shared in weeks, besides lying next to one another at night and chaste kisses here and there. 

“I think… I want to show you something.” He says, breaking the quiet of the steam filled bathroom. 

“Oh?” You turn to look at him. His face looks contemplative and his eyes hold a bit more light than they did the day before. 

“Tonight, if you’re feeling up for it…” 

“As long as it’s not far from here,” You smile. 

“It’s not.” He shakes his head. He tilts your chin up and pours a handful of water over the top of your hair, rinsing it slowly and carefully so as to not get the soap on your face. 

“Is this something I’ll need shoes for?” You ask, wondering if you’ll be able to go in your nightgown and slippers, or if you’ll need to be in warmer clothing after your bath.

“Yes… it’s a short walk-  though it’s not here in the inn.” You hum happily when his fingers return to your scalp, massaging and scratching softly at it with his fingertips. It causes the hair on your arms to stand on end, and you let your eyes close to bask in the feeling. “Is that a yes? You’ll come with me?” He asks quietly, his breath tickling your ear. There’s a hint of nervous excitement to his voice, and you wonder whatever on Toril he wants to show you. 

“Yes it is.” You nod, eyes still closed. When the bath finally turns cold, you step out to let the water drain, and towel yourself off. You feel Astarion’s gaze on your wet limbs and the curves of your body as you dry yourself. It’s not his usual hungry stare, however. You catch his eye and he quickly looks away, like he’d been caught. 

“You’re not going to get in trouble for looking, you know… Nothing you haven’t seen before.” You smile at him. 

“I know… I just don’t want you to feel as though I look at you for one reason and one reason only.”

“I know you don’t. And I don’t feel that way at all…” You reassure him. 

“Good.” He replies softly. “I’ll be waiting for you back in our room.” He kisses the top of your now clean hair and slips out of the bathing room to let you finish getting dressed. 

Having only brought your nightgown with you, you slip that on, and dry your hair with your towel. Your feet pad quietly back down the hall to the shared group room, and you try not to make much noise as soft snores sound from behind some of the privacy screens between beds. 

Astarion sits on your bed, waiting patiently just as he said he would be, reading a book. You pull on some pants under your nightgown, and shrug out of it, quickly replacing it with a shirt. Sitting next to Astarion on the bed, you tug on your sandals. 

“Well, I’m ready to go. What did you want to show me?” You whisper. 

He sets the book down, and takes your hand to lead you out of the tavern inn, and out into the cool night. Winding through the streets, you make your way to the cemetery...

The next morning, you wake up tangled in Astarion’s embrace. After the graveyard, you’d made your way back to the inn, stumbling about like two love-drunk idiots. Astarion, full belly of your hot ichor; you, lightheaded and slightly dizzy. Things had gotten heated out there under the moonlight. Soft touches turned quickly to needy grasping, and you soon were breathing into one another’s mouths as your bodies entwined under the stars. The same dirt that once held his death, would now be the bed on which he reclaimed his life with you. 

Though he wasn’t fully back to himself, you could tell that last night was a turning point. He was on a healing journey, and he was overjoyed to have you along for the ride. 

___

With the Gate in ruins, but the Netherbrain utterly destroyed, the rubble in the streets and broken buildings didn’t seem like an end, just a new beginning.  A rebuilding of the great city. Somehow though, the Elfsong still stood proudly amongst the overturned streets. You decide to spend one last night there before making your journey to the Underdark with Astarion, now banished from the sunlight once again. He hardly seems to mind though. Not when you’ve promised to be with him and help with the new vampire colony forming among the Myconids. 

Astarion lays like a king on his throne in your shared bed back at the inn, one foot crossed over the other, his face at ease. He holds a book in his hand and reads it lazily. You take your hair down, the unkempt bun falling easily and settling around your shoulders, you brush the tangles and frizz.

“What book is that?” You whisper curiously, so as not to wake the others. 

“The one I took from Ffion’s room.” He replies casually, like he’s reading from the Gazette and not in fact, a written account of debauchery. 

“Why do you still have that damned book?” Your voice rising with mild annoyance. 

“I wasn’t kidding when I said before that it was interesting.” He shrugs, his own voice still soft. “Gale said he absolutely had no use for it, or the other treats we’d left him, and gave it back to me.” He closes the book around his finger and gives you a wicked smile, “Besides, we’ll need something to do, down in the Underdark.” 

“You are not bringing that.”

“Why not? I’m sure it will get awfully boring down there eventually,” He replies with a chuckle. Someone in the room, probably Shadowheart, shushes the two of you. 

“What would you even want to do from that?” You hiss. 

“Darling, I’m so glad you asked,” he whispers, scooting over on the bed inviting you to lie next to him. With a sigh, you indulge him, and curl up to his side and look over the book together. He flips it back open to a dog-eared page. “I’ve been thinking about trying this- since our night at my grave. I haven’t been able to get it from my mind...” You look over the page and see an elven woman tied up, ankles to her wrists, and a blindfold over her eyes.

“I’m not letting you tie me up...” You shake your head, the idea already giving you a sense of claustrophobia. 

“No, not that- the blindfold.” He tuts. 

“Oh. Well why didn’t you just say so?” You ask, looking up at him. 

“And miss your reddened face when I showed you the picture?” He teases, kissing your temple. “Really, you must stop acting so coy about sex.” 

“A blindfold...” You bring the conversation back around. 

“Yes. It’s going to be awfully dark down there, might as well get used to it...” He smirks, letting his fingers dance along your thigh. 

“I’m aware. We were there not too long ago, if you’ve forgotten.”

“How could I have? That was where I first figured out I was actually falling for you.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes... Seeing you be crowned by the Sovereign after saving their colony, I realized that you were the exact opposite type of person I was at the time- and yet, you showed me that people do care about the underdog.” 

“I didn’t know that...” You admit quietly. 

“You are quite the force to be reckoned with, my dear. Your strength and your determination, it gave me hope that my own story could change.” He takes your chin in his palm and tilts it up to him, to kiss it- gentle and soft. Ever since his reclamation of life in the cemetery, he’s been much more affectionate, physically. Kissing your neck, nuzzling his face in your hair, wrapping his arms around your waist while you slept; he drank in the warmth of your body, and constantly sought out your touch. He pulls back from the kiss and grins down at you, his eyes a dark wine. 

“Can you be quiet?” He whispers huskily, his hands moving beneath your sleep shirt, cold against your belly. 

“Here? Right now?” You reply, your eyes on his lips. 

“Right here...” He nearly growls. “Right now...”

“What about the others?” You gasp, trying to remain as quiet as you can, but his mouth attacks the pulse in your throat. 

“Just keep your whimpering to a minimum and no one will be the wiser.” 

Cruel bastard- he bites your neck just enough to elicit a delicious cry from your lips, before you cut it off by sucking in a breath. His hand comes up to muffle your sounds, his palm now pressed firmly to your lips. “Hush, love- can’t be too loud...” You nod against his hand. You can keep quiet. You can try, at least. There’s no doubt everyone in the shared room just heard you though.

“Good girl...” He purrs, before resuming his nibbling on your earlobe, and the space where your jawline meets your neck. His hand moves to hold the back of your head, thumb rubbing gently at your cheek. Chills race down your sides and you let the sensations wash over you. His breath in the shell of your ear, his tongue stroking along the edge of your jaw. You can feel your heart pounding in your eardrums. You turn your head to capture his mouth with yours and roll over to straddle him between your legs. You’ve been wanting to do so for so long, and oh, how patient you have been for him to be ready. The swell of him presses firmly between your legs and you groan.

“Gods, you’re worked up, aren’t you?” He snickers from below. 

“You’re not the only one that’s been wanting...” You whisper harshly, scooping your hips forward to get more of that friction you’ve been craving. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and his hands pull your hips down further against his growing erection. 

“Darling, do that again,” he begs, not caring to keep his voice quiet. 

“Oh gods, Gale! Do something!” Karlach calls out from across the room, making you freeze in your gyrations. 

“Why me?” He calls back, appalled. 

“You’re the magic user- cast a circle of silence in their corner or something! I had to hear them when we were all in tents, but I refuse to listen to them now!” Karlach harrumphs. 

Not even a minute later, the air around the two of you becomes thick, like humidity without the sticky heat. Seems like Gale thought Karlach’s idea was a good one. Now, you can enjoy one another’s voices without disrupting your companions’ beauty sleep. A nervous chuckle passes between the two of you. 

“Whoops...” Astarion grins, showing off his beautiful fangs, his nose scrunched in mischief. 

“So, do you still want to blind fold me? Or is that another night sort of thing?” You look down at him nestled so perfectly between your thighs astride his middle. 

“Depends... is it something you want to try, my love?” He gives you a slow roll of his hips from beneath you. Your eyes flicker closed and you nod encouragingly. Astarion leans over the edge of the bed, his fingertips just straining for the strap of his backpack. From it, he produces a ripped shirt of his- the same one that was ripped off him the night Cazador tried to ascend. Your face falls seeing the tattered white shirt he used to wear around camp. You didn’t even know he’d kept it after that night- figured he’d left it there in the estate or had thrown it away.  He takes it between his hands and rips it further, tearing off a long strip from the bottom, and you gasp. 

“What?” he asks, looking up at you. 

“I just.. That shirt,” you frown, “I know it probably doesn’t hold the best memories, but it just makes me think of you.” 

“It's an old rag, my dear. Besides, this way, it has a better purpose.” He replies. “Now lie down so I can tie this around your beautiful eyes.” 

You slide off his lap and lie down next to him on the bed. “You sure you don’t want to try and repair it?” You ask, eyeing the now crumpled remains of his shirt on the floor. 

“Not in the least.” He huffs, placing the strip against your closed eyes and tying it carefully behind your head. “Not when I can use it to tease you until you’re absolutely mad with desire.” 

“I could just close my eyes... Wouldn’t that achieve the same effect?” You ask with a chuckle. 

“You could, but this is far better fun.”

You feel his weight shift on the bed and your hand searches for him on the sheets next to you. 

“Where did you go?” You ask, your hand now grasping at air. 

“I’m here, don’t you fret.” He whispers next to your head, and the back of his cold hand caresses your cheek. You instinctively turn to kiss at his knuckles and fingertips as he drags them down; down your neck, down the curve of your breast, down your ribcage, down to your hip, down  your leg, to your precious little toes. He pauses there, and scratches the underside of your foot, causing you to giggle and kick. 

“Hey!” You chuckle, “Quit that!” 

“Gods, you have such an adorable laugh.” He replies softly. “Will you lift your hips for me dearest?” 

You do so obediently, and he swiftly pulls your cotton sleep pants down your legs. Your stomach flips with the anticipation of not knowing, not seeing, what exactly it is that he’s doing. You trust him with everything in your being, and he relishes in that which you so freely give to him. His fingers trail along your navel now. You imagine him walking around the bed with you lying on it, waiting for the small soft touches he bestows upon you. His fingers brush under your shirt, teasing the underswelling of your breast. 

“Sit up...” He murmurs.

Again, you obey, and he finishes undressing you, leaving only the scrap of fabric on your tightly shut eyes. 

“I could never tire of seeing absolutely every inch of you, laid out before me like this.” He purrs again into your ear, and your head tilts towards his voice. He has you completely under his spell now, and he knows it too. He gives you a quick kiss on your wanting lips, and pulls away before you can even taste him. 

“You tease...” 

“That’s the idea, love,” He hums, then a cold finger circles your pink nipple, stiffening it, then rolling it between his finger and thumb, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Such lovely little noises you make... Will you give me more?” 

Before you can respond, his mouth closes over the same spot his fingers were a moment ago. He rapidly flicks his tongue against it- cold and wet, the sensation causing your stomach to flutter. You mewl in reply, and Astarion hums against your breast, happy to hear your arousal. He gently scrapes his teeth against your supple flesh before coming up, leaving your breast wet and cool, now exposed again to the air. 

“Shall I give the other the same attention?” He asks you, already circling his fingers over your right nipple now. You nod, trying to keep your breath in check. His mouth immediately latches on your other breast, licking and sucking on it with fervor.  At this, your thighs squeeze together in a meager attempt at giving your now throbbing clit any sort of attention. He absolutely meant what he said about making you ‘mad with desire’. His fingers play with the other still spit-wet nipple, whilst his tongue continues its suckling on the same breast. You cry out in utter despair and lust-riddled desire. Gods, how you wanted him deep set within your heat. Your thighs continue to rub tightly together, to try and satiate the burning need between them. 

“My sweet darling,” he comes up huffing against your skin, “you are doing so well for me- so patient, so lovely. But I feel as though you want me elsewhere...” 

“Yes! Yes, Astarion, please...” You beg him, glad that he might finally shower you with attention where you truly need it. 

“Please what?” His voice is gruff, laced with need of his own. “What is it you want from me? Use your words, my darling.”

“I want you...” You swallow. “I want you inside me, I want to feel you deeply.. Please.” 

“What a good girl, with such good manners too...” You feel him climb onto the bed, his hands by your head, and his knees on either side of your legs. “I don’t think I’m quite finished teasing you yet, however. You aren’t quite delirious enough yet for me to reward you with what you truly want.” 

“Oh gods, Astarion-” You start to complain, but he cuts you off with a kiss, his tongue pushes into your mouth and you readily accept it, pushing and stroking against it with your own. Somewhere, amongst all his teasing, he’s stripped down to his skin as well. He lowers himself to you, covering your body with his, the weight and pressure only serves to make you want him more- to feel him everywhere. His hard erection pulses against your belly and you whimper into his mouth. He pulls back and moves his mouth to your neck again, and down to your collarbones, leaving small love bites in his wake. Hells, how you want to see him, to see his dark lust filled eyes, trailing across your body. You loved seeing his face get all flushed when he was like this, it always became so pink and rosy, but especially so after he’s fed from you. 

“Can I propose a trade?” You ask. His mouth comes off your stomach. 

“Oh? What is it you want, love?” The words tickle your skin. 

“Let me take off the blindfold, and you can drink from me.” You offer, and his head lowers back to your hip now, his fangs grazing over your skin. “Please?” 

“It's tempting, I’ll give you that.” He finally replies, his voice rough. “Why do you want it off so badly?” His fingers glide up and down your slick folds now, and your hips buck under his touch. 

“I want to see you- your face. I like seeing your face.” You admit with a thick swallow, and his fingers dip into your slick heat, just enough to make you buck again. There’s a long pause where he doesn’t say anything, where his fingers just barely move inside you, not enough to give you much, but enough to leave you on edge. 

“You can take it off in a moment. I won’t make you wait long, I promise.” He pushes in deeper and his two fingers massage your inner walls, while his thumb rubs slow circles over your clit, and you cry out in pleasure. 

“You can take it off, as soon as you come for me. Is that fair?” You can hear the snide grin he must be wearing and your walls clench around his fingers. 

  “Yes, fine, that’s fine.” You reply, “Just don’t stop.” You’re already spiraling towards your climax, and you know Astarion is always one to keep his promises. Your breath is labored and heavy, and your heart pounds in your ears as your walls continue to grip his fingers as they move in and out of you, in tandem with his circling thumb. One last shaking breath, and you feel your whole body tremble with your release. Your hips undulate in time with each wave of pleasure that moves through you. “Oh gods, Astarion,” you groan. 

“That’s it, yes, that’s it...” Astarion encourages you on, making more sparks tingle throughout your wracked frame. Though your body still shudders slightly, he keeps his end of the bargain, and lifts the blindfold from your eyes. You blink to adjust to the darkness, and you find that the prolonged darkness has now heightened your sight. You look up to see Astarion’s beautiful face hovering above yours, and with such clarity that it makes all that time not being able to see him, oh so worth it. 

His eyes, like two dying embers, watch you piercingly. The two of you just stare at one another, your eyes igniting the fires deeper within both your guts. Without a word, Astarion presses the head of his cock to your soaked entrance. You nod to him to continue, and he slides in slowly, but easily. His eyes roll back, and his frame shudders above yours. 

“You’re so warm, so soft. You feel so good.” He moans, pushing deeper into you until he reaches your back wall. He waits there, feeling the way you pulsate around him. You rock your hips back and forth, and he growls in his throat. “You’re not going to let me just enjoy this?” He asks with a wicked glint in his eye. 

“Not if you’re going to take your dear sweet time doing so.” You huff back. You want to feel his cock twitch within you, painting you with his seed. His hands come down to your hips, and holds them there. 

“Be still, little love. You’ve gotten yours, let me go at my own pace...” He chuckles, enjoying your enthusiasm. 

“It's not that I don’t love when you take your time,” you smile, “I’m more so worried about how long we have until Gale’s silence spell wears out.”

“Ah, shit...” He clicks his tongue. “You’re right... Next time then.” He grins, and draws his hips back to slam them back into you, making your eyes roll back. 

He doesn’t hold back with his thrusts, or his own wanton moaning. His voice is like heaven song to your ears. The way your name falls from his lips is enough to urge your own second climax forwards with each drive of his pelvis.

“I can feel you tightening around me. Gods- you’re close again aren’t you...” He pants, close to his own release. You whimper and nod your head.

“Yes, Astarion- yes.” You put one hand between the space of your bodies, and draw circles around your clit to bring yourself to the brink. 

“Do you want me to-” He asks, trying to replace your hand with his. 

“No, no, focus on thrusting. You already got me there.” You pant, “Just keep pounding into me like you were...” 

“Can you put your legs on my shoulders?” He asks, taking you by surprise. 

“I mean, I can try.” 

He pulls out of you and slides a pillow beneath your hips to prop them up. You bring your knees up, and he guides your ankles to sit on either side of his neck. 

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, lining himself back up to plunge into your depths. 

“Y-” Before you can finish your ‘yes’, he’s back in, and so deep it makes your vision blur for a moment. A drawn out moan from both of you confirms to one another how good this feels- to have him so entirely within you like this. Your hand moves back to between your legs. You were so close before, and you want to reach that same height again- to milk his own orgasm from him with your own. 

“Watching you touch yourself like that...” he pants, “its so fucking hot.” He palms one of your breasts, kneading it whilst the other hand grips your thigh to keep you tilted for him. He turns his head and kisses the inside of your ankle. It’s all too much and you feel your gut tighten as your back arches, sending you into another mind-shattering orgasm. Your hands fly to grip the bed sheets around you, as a primal scream rips from your throat. Astarion doesn’t let up though, in fact, he picks up his pace, his own release arriving seconds behind your own.

“You feel so fucking good, darling. Gods, let me fill you up...” He huffs, sweat beading on his forehead. “Let me fill you with my love.”      

The two of you ride out the remainder of your shared orgasm. He collapses onto you after setting your shaking legs back onto the bed. The air around you is still thick with the silence spell, thank the gods. Not that either of you are focused on that though. Astarion’s face is in the crook of your neck, inhaling the intoxicating perfume of your sweat and pleasure. 

“Can I?” He asks, his mouth moving over your pulse. “You always taste so delicious when your blood is hot like this.” 

“Yes, my love.” You turn and pull your hair out of the way. Still buried within you, he drinks from your neck like a man at a well. He comes up with a dazed but satisfied smile and kisses you, his lips and tongue now warmed from your blood, as well as the rest of him too. 

“I love you...” He whispers, brushing his nose against yours. 

“That good, huh?” You ask with a giggle. 

“You brat... you’re supposed to say it back.” He growls, nipping at your earlobe. 

You giggle again and press your head to your shoulder to box him out. “Alright, alright. I love you too...” 

“I know you do.” He smiles. “Can I get you a glass of water?” He pushes off you and pulls his sleep pants back on.                 

“Yes please. Oh, and a towel?”

“Of course, my dearest.” As he leaves, the air thins, and the sounds of soft snoring fades in as Astarion struts away. 

‘Not a moment too soon,' you chuckle quietly to yourself. 

Thanks for reading! <3 - Tilly