#is it called glitter? sparkles? what the fuck are these

[seraphim-soulmate]

sparkles in little glass jars ! ✨

[lingeriae]

🧘🏾‍♀️

"man, fuck you."

the silence that comes after your words is almost deadly, and it causes your heart to sink.

the sleek black fridge hums in the silence, your eyes are drawn to it as you hear his heavy foot steps move towards you, it's so calm it causes your nerves to rise. you can feel the warmth radiating off his body as he stops infront of you, his muscular body only inches away from being pressed against yours.

your anxious, and a bit excited for what you know is about to come, keeping on a poker face and looking straight, refusing to look up at him.

eren pokes his inner cheek with his tongue as he looks down at you, an eyebrow raised and a dangerous look on his face. a look you were far too familiar with, a look that only meant one thing.

he chuckles, the sound is deep and attractive, fitting for a prettyboy like himself. "s'that right?"

a shudder racked throughout your body at the threat posed as a question, he was testing you, giving you a chance to redeem yourself before he fucked you up. on any other day, you would jump to fix up your words and tone, knowing what would happen if you didn't, but you didn't feel like doing that shit today. not after he ignored you almost the whole day.

maybe you were being dramatic - no fuck that. this is his fault.

you got all dressed up for him, wearing a cute lil lingeriae (wink wonk) that annoyingly went up your ass just for him, only for you to be ignored and neglected like you weren't walking around with the most bomb pussy.

it happened a few hours ago but even now you're still fucking pissed, eren was off work today and your package came early so you decided to suprise him. he was playing his games when you decided to walk in. hips swinging, titties sitting and your sunkissed skin glowing with the shea butter and baby oil you rubbed it with earlier. he cursed loudly as he shot at whatever the fuck he was shooting at on screen, and cussed out connie for being slow, his gaze not moving from the screen even once to acknowledge your presence. it annoyed you a little, but you didn't let that bother you smiling slyly as you walked up to him.

"ren," you called sweetly, swayin on your feet lightly and bitting your bottom lip as you waited for his jade green eyes to meet yours only for your plump lips to downturn when he quickly mumbled out a 'yeah, baby?' without sparring you a single glance. you were starting to get pissed off, was it so fucking hard for him to give you attention?

with a huff you leaned over, taking his jaw into your hand to turn his head towards you, ignoring the complaints he let out. a smile tugged at your lips at the way he paused, looking you up and down and licking his pink lips which parted for a second before you heard talking from his headset, you felt your smile slip as he looked back to the screen.

"eren-"

he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes still not leaving the screen, your frown going unnoticed. "gimme a second babe, m'almost done." your nose scrunched up as you stared at the brunette infront of you, in disbelief of him choosing a fucking game over you. rolling your eyes you walked out of the room, making sure to slam the door shut behind you.

which leads you to being moody all day.

the pretty princess that he was used to no longer being present as you stomped your pretty feet every where you went, face screwed up, side-eyeing the brown haired male every chance you get and mumbling slick shit under your breath.

eren was oblivious to why you were acting this way, and he was slowly getting sick of it. his last straw being when he asked you to pass him a cup only for you to just look at him bad out of the corner of your eyes and fix your pretty lips to ask him

"your hands broke?"

the smell of your vanilla and marshmellow body mist floods his senses as he inhales, his eyes dropping down to your neck to see the glitter that sparkles there. your fucking delicious, is what he thinks as he watches you avoid him with low lidded eyes, a hand comes up to turn your face towards him so that you make eye-contact with him.

you try not to shiver, pursing your lips as you look at him. "who you giving all that attitude to?"

you try to hold in the whimper that threatens to fall from your lips from the tone of his voice, how you could feel it vibrating through you and how your panties soaked with arousal with just that alone.

it isn't fair, the hold he has on you, the reactions he can pull from you by doing the least. his grip tightens on your jaw when you attempt to pull your face away from him, gaze blazing with heat and a thick eyebrow raising as he waited for you to respond.

rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms across your chest, tongue running acorss your top row of teeth. "aint got time for this."

green eyes squinted at you before eren's entire face went blank, he tilted his head at you and you watched as his brown hair swayed with the movement, your body tensing as your face remained blank. "you sure?" those two words have never seemed dangerous until now, paired with the look on his face, it would have anyone shaking in there boots, it shouldn't have excited you but it did.

inhaling deeply, eren listened to the humming of the fridge, trying his best to calm down and not do anything irrational as he knew how your cry-baby ass was. he looked down at you again, watching as you twisted your lips and looked away from him, trying to keep a poker face, his lips quirked up at the side a little, barely noticeable, knowing that you wont be acting this way in a couple of minutes.

"gonna tell me why you're acting like this?"

biting your tongue, you shook your head. "nothing bro, it's fine." you attempt to move past him, his hand lashes out and holds your hips, brinig you back to where you were before which causes you to sigh annoyingly.

"nah, what's up?" eren waited for your reply patiently, watching as you just stared at him with your lips jutted out. he waits, and his patients runs thin.

he lets out a breath through his nose. "cool."

and that's all it takes for you to be in this position, back arched perfectly with your supple breats pressed against the counter top as eren fucks you from behind, chorus' of moans leaving your lips.

"e-eren wait!"

"wait on what? don't play with me, take it and don't run." you felt a pleasurable sting on your ass, gifted to you by the man who was rearranging your guts with vigor.

not once did he stop or pause, lifting your foot so he could plunge into your deeper.

he grabs a fist of your hair, bringing his lips to your ear allowing you to hear the raspiness and deepiness of his tone as he fucked you.

"this what you wanted right...nasty fucking attitude cause you wanted some dick."

feeling the pleasure build in your tummy, begging for a release you grip unto the counter as eren's paced sped up. a series of broken sentences and sweet moans leaving your plump liips as he bullied your pussy with his cock.

"if dick's what you want, ima fucking spoil you with it."

[rae-writes]

An Angel?

om demons x reader (+Simeon, Solomon, Mephi, Raph)

wc : 2.k

warnings : more simping bois, more humor, a lot more sprinkles of suggestive comments

synopsis : a deviltok trend has the boys on their knees for you, part two: electric boogaloo

a/n : for the record, Luke was in the room while Mc was making it, cheering them on, doing his cute little “Waahhh!” // idea brought to me by the lovely [your-next-daydream]​ // AND, as usual, let’s not talk about how ridiculously long this took me to finish ahaha rip me-

demon ver. 

<Simeon> Mc looks rather...heavenly, don’t you agree? 

[attachment sent] 

Intrigued, he wasted no time in clicking on the file, grinning when he realized it was one of your deviltoks. Decked out in your RAD uniform, you sat in a chair with your hands clasped together. 

“Who are you?” 

Smoothly, almost as if you were floating, you stood and took a few steps towards the camera with a rather shy smile. 

“An angel.” 

You bowed ever so slightly, flitting your gaze to the floor. 

“What’s your name?”

You spun suddenly, sending your red accessory swooshing in front of the camera, covering everything from view. 

“Michael.”

As fast as the transition happened, it ended; the view was cleared to reveal you— angelic down to a T and beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe you. 

You were adorned with sheer, white clothing that was loose and flowy, probably swaying due to a fan that was off camera. Light blue accents were scattered here and there- including an extension piece in your hair of the same color. Sparkling gold accessories glinted under the light, but not as much as the halo that hovered above your head. It was a gorgeous molten gold tint, partly transparent with glitter floating around inside (with a few cracks decorating the outside of it). It only brought attention to the snowy wings spanning out behind you, flecks of iridescent scattered amongst the feathers. 

[9 people saved a video attachment]

Lucifer

Ah. Yes. He’s not combusting on the inside, not at all. 

*insert internal screaming*

Ahem. Now that his jaw has been picked up off the floor, he is immediately wondering how the fuck Simeon of all people got access to the video before him

Don’t get him wrong though, he is on the way right now- leave the door open, Mc

He has to put his marks all over your body to get rid of the fact that you looked that pretty while using Michael’s name

Possessive urges aside, please keep the outfit on

Does not care if you’re dressed up like an Angel, he will gladly corrupt you

In fact, he wants to corrupt you- let him see that pact mark of his while you look so angelic, yeah?

might be into role playing it if you’d like

Mammon

Blinks a couple times before looking around slowly; poor boy really thought he’d been yeeted back to the celestial realm for a minute there

It’s all quiet before suddenly everyone in the house (and probably outside) hears “HOLY FUCK WHAT”

You never cease to amaze him, by the devils, is he in love 

The blush on his face- if he was anything other than a demon- would look severely concerning. Like no, it’s not a red beacon of light, it’s just him coming through the halls

Is creepin outside ya door practically on his knees. Please let him in. His greed is flared and you’re the only cure even if you’re also the reason

He is dying to have a diy photo shoot of the two of you in your angel fit

Step on him. Do it- it’s the perfect angle, the shot comes out beautifully and he is putting it right in his wallet once it’s developed 

Will step on you in return if you ask

You’ll let him kiss all over your body, wontcha, Mc? (he’ll even be gentle with his fangs when he nibbles around that golden necklace you’ve got on)

Levi

*cue his very nervous yet giddy laughter*

This is just like that anime he saw last week called ‘Help! My human s/o just turned into an Angel but I’m a demon and actually kind of into this?!” 

Seriously though, you look so beautiful, Levi was immediately down in the floor with his face covered and tail wagging 

Please allow 3-4 business months before he can recover 

Jk lol he’s hovering in your doorway before you you can even click on his contact

Shyly asks if he can touch your halo and wings (and ends up with his tail wrapped around you, knocking you side to side because it’s still attempting to wag) 

Unlike the eldest brother, Levi practically begs you to roleplay this with him and have a cosplay photoshoot 

Will shamelessly keep you to himself for the rest of the day and hiss at everyone who gets too close 

Please sit on him and call him mean names while also holding him sweetly 

Satan

Sign him tf up- he’s got a pen at the ready 

Irony aside, Satan thinks you look absolutely stunning— straight out of a fairy tale 

Irony not aside, Satan is actually so into this and craves to play it out with you

He was never an Angel to begin with, he was born a demon; just thinking about making your ivory wings turn black makes him excited 

Satan understands it’s just a simple spell you’ve casted so he won’t get too out of sorts (but if you like it, then what’s the harm?) 

Wants to read a forbidden love trope book and maybe act out some of the scenes while you’re still dressed like that 

The hopeless romantic in him is front and center the entire time

If you think he’s gonna let you go now, you’re sorely mistaken— let his brothers try and take you away 

He’s got tons of scenarios to act out if you can handle him 

Asmo

That weird high pitched sound you hear from across the house that should be something only dogs can hear? Yeah that’s Asmo squealing

Posting your video EVERYWHERE bc everyone needs to see how fucking gorgeous you look 

You can hear his footsteps from a mile away as he hurries to your room 

He MUST see your outfit in person ASAP

Azzy. Is. So. Fucking. Down. For. This. Shit. He thinks he’s dreamed about this once actually  

Please let him just examine every inch of you, he’s begging

Once again his camera is out and ready for a photoshoot and his demon form is out right alongside it 

He will be keeping you for the next 24-48 hours thanks

Beel

Choked. Again. 

Don’t be alarmed by the loud rumbling sound— it’s not Beel’s stomach for once, but instead a growl

He didn’t mean to make that sound but you just look so— and he just— and you— and and— A a a A A 

Has that cute little blush plastered over his face all. day. 

Might be tempted- or actually try- to take a bite out of your halo or something else ifykyk

Rewatches the video at least ten times because you're just. Wow. Wow. W O W. 

Is now in the mood to eat some celestial realm food with you 

though his appetite is half for food and half for you 

Pls don’t mind his staring or the way he’s probably drooling a bit, he can’t help it :(

Belphie 

“...wait, what?”

Lays there staring at the ceiling for a moment bc PHEW you got him sweating and he hasn’t even moved yet-

Manages a straight face all the way until he enters your room and sees the outfits in person

To which he is, once again, dropping right at your feet with a look of ‘PLEASE’

He needs a whole ass minute or two to catch his breath from how fucking gorgeous you look and then he needs another whole ass minute or two to scan you over again

Please sit on him

Is uncharacteristically stuttering through every sentence— how can he possibly concentrate on stupid words in these [amazing] conditions?!

Gatekeeping you AGAIN

Underneath you the entire. time. 

Barbatos

*windows shutdown* 

*windows restart*

…aaand we’re back ladies and gentlemen and every cool dude in between but Barbatos is still fucking astonished— absolutely flabbergasted at how badly he’s got it for you

He dropped everything he was carrying in that moment and swiftly picked it back up, hoping no one saw

Diavolo saw. He recorded the entire thing and sent it to you, zooming in on Barbatos’ blush

There’s just something primal in him that makes him want to sink his teeth into you and coil his tail around your body so that you won’t be able to go anywhere else until he lets you

Everyone be damned, Barb will be having you to himself for the entire night

Will also run his fingers along the faux wings and halo before he absolutely ruins you until the magic dissipates

He is…totally normal about the entire thing..

Diavolo

His father help him— Diavolo is so incredibly thankful for the exchange program

Is OUT of the castle at mach speed before Barbatos can even say otherwise

And then he’s speeding right back and summoning you to him instead so he can have you to himself

Mans is kneeling at your fucking feet the second he lays eyes on you

And while it isn’t ‘proper’ for someone who wants unity between all three realms to want to corrupt you— 

—he does. So badly. He thinks he might even beg you for it 

Also wants to take a picture of the two of you with him in his demon form (it’s the it picture for weeks after he posts it)

Cannot stop looking at your halo; please let him touch it

(If you slowly begin altering your wings to bleed black, he’s practically foaming at the mouth—) 

bonus: 

Simeon

*sharp inhale* . . . *yeets halo*

He deadass forgets he’s an Angel himself for a few minutes bc he’s too busy simping fawning over you 

God who?? Like get tf outta the way, beep beep, archangel on a mission comin through 

Is begging as soon as he steps foot through your door. Please, please let him touch you and explore— he should be ashamed with how unabashed he is but fuck look at you 

Will let his own wings out just so you can compare your angels forms (melted on the spot when you brushed your wings against his)

Honestly can’t decide if he wants you to corrupt him or if he wants to corrupt you…or both at the same time

He’s not sharing you. Not now. Not like this. 

You may look like an angel, and he may be an angel, but he won’t treat you like one tonight 

If you do the fancy trick of letting your wings turn black, he’s completely bowing down to whatever you wish right then and there 

Solomon

Kinda forgot he was immortal for a split second and wondered if he’d either died or accidentally traveled to the celestial realm

Gains his bearings rather quickly, but the hold you have on him is still very much there

And he’d like you to have a hold around his throat— what? Who said that??

His pretty little blush where he averts his eyes all nervously? YEAH THAT

He’s taken aback for a couple moments before his usual shit eating grin comes back but that blush? Still there. 

Backs you against a wall, in a corner, and let’s his hands roam with a small laugh, quietly asking how you manage to make him lose composure so easily 

Is so soft and sweet for a minute before his eyes darken and that SEXY smirk crawls onto his face

Plucks that halo right from above your head and tosses it behind his shoulder because how could he possibly do what he has planned if you’re an angel?

Makes your wings bloom black himself (and challenges how long you can handle him)

extra little bonus: 

Mephisto 

Simply raises a brow and wonders why the hell his body got so hot all the sudden 

Ignores the video for a couple hours until he realizes he can’t stop fucking thinking about it 

Promptly decides he’s going to go straight to you and demand how dare you invade his thoughts like this 

And then promptly decides he’d rather just revert to using his hands instead when the sight of you makes his mouth dry and water at the same time

Will take it upon himself, right then, to corrupt you

Because there’s no way in the seven rings of hell he’s letting you switch sides and he’ll break the magic you’re using as proof

After though *cough cough* he will bashfully tell you how gorgeous you looked…

Raphael

Let me tell you, mans was not ready 

Like if you’ve seen the video of the person with a stacked ass on the stretcher being carried by and the news reporter’s face afterwards, that’s Raphael. 

Luke takes a picture of his expression and makes a meme

Won’t address it until the very next day, stiffly telling you that your outfit was very pleasing to the eye (he thinks you’re drop dead gorgeous, okay, he’s just struggling)

If you offer to show him in person, he is ascending right back home. Won’t deny, though. Like please do. 

In awe for the whole experience 

And blushes an alluring deep shade if you show him some ‘corruption’ tricks you have up your sleeve

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER FOUR: holy waters

masterlist

“Give it up for Miss Ayesha Erotica, everyone!” Yn announced with infectious enthusiasm over the radio waves.

Miwa, sporting vibrant teal hair and an equally vibrant grin, followed up with theatrical flair, “God, I love emo boy!”

Yn shot her a smirk. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s a sentiment we can all get behind, right?”

Miwa didn’t miss a beat, her excitement bubbling over as she declared, “No Yn, I really, really love emo boys!”, being sure to enunciate the s at the end.

Yn’s face contorts as a picture of Megumi flashes through her mind.“That makes one of us,” Yn quipped, “but I see your point.”

“Seriously, though,” Miwa said, barely containing her glee, “today is shaping up to be amazing!”

Yn arched an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh? Do tell.”

Miwa’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she revealed, “Because Tridant has graced us with 10 free tickets to their show this Saturday, and we’re giving them away!”

Yn’s face twisted into a mix of dread and disbelief, her jaw nearly hitting the studio floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered into the mic, trying to cover her panic with a forced grin. “Trident? You know I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard.”

Miwa’s eyes widened in playful astonishment. “Huh, since when did you become such a critic?”

Yn leaned over and mouthed, “Just roll with it.”

Miwa nodded, her grin widening. “I know, but that’s exactly why this is going to be hilarious. We’re going to make someone’s day—and maybe even get you to enjoy yourself.”

Yn groaned dramatically. “Alright, but if I have to endure this concert, you owe me a full day of Solange on the station.”

Miwa clapped her hands together, her laughter echoing. “Deal! Alright, listeners, if you want a shot at these coveted tickets, call in now and tell us why you’re the ultimate Tridant fan. And don’t forget to shout out how much you adore these emo boys!”

As the phone lines lit up with eager callers, YN slumped back in her chair, torn between dread and reluctant amusement. Despite her best efforts to look disgruntled, she couldn’t help but be drawn in by Miwa’s infectious enthusiasm. And she knew Twitter would have a field day with this one—especially with a certain raven-haired boy likely to make an appearance in the trending topics.

“Megumi, get off your phone! We need to practice otherwise Gojo will be up our asses!” Yuta barked, his voice cutting through the cluttered practice room like a drill sergeant.

The space was strewn with old gear, tangled cables, and random junk, making it look like a tornado had hit a music store. Yuta, already in dad mode, stormed out, his footsteps echoing off the mismatched walls as he went in search of something crucial.

“Yeah, but Toge’s on his phone too,” Megumi shot back, his fingers still scrolling through his screen, barely lifting his gaze.

“Yeah, but nobody gives a fuck about him,” Yuji interjected from the corner of the room, where he was perched on a drum stool, grinning like he’d just won a prize.

“Suck my dick ,” Toge retorted, his white hair bouncing as he turned, looking genuinely miffed.

Megumi rolled his eyes with exaggerated drama, reluctantly shoving his phone into his back pocket. He could feel the buzzing vibrations through his jeans and couldn’t help but smirk, taking a twisted pleasure in the fact that he was managing to irk you.

“Ugh, Megumi, why are you grinning like that? A jumpscare warning would’ve been nice,” Toge commented, half-annoyed, half-amused, from his spot by the amp.

“Go fuck yourself,” Megumi snapped back, his smugness evaporating into a gruff irritation.

Did he really find joy in annoying you? Megumi mused, a hint of doubt creeping in.

“Hey, Megumi, you seem unusually cheerful today,” Yuta announced as he reentered, clutching whatever he’d gone to fetch with an air of importance.

“See? Even Yuta’s noticed,” Toge snarked, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“So what’s up, big guy?” Yuji asked, his grin widening as he strolled over, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“Did you finally get your dick sucked or something?” Toge blurted out, his tone blunt and unapologetic.

“Why would that make me happy?” Megumi shot back, genuinely confused.

“Because everyone can tell when you’re sex-deprived,” Toge replied matter-of-factly, adding with a laugh, “Plus the horny slash hate subtweets you’ve been posting do nothing for your case.”

“I’m not sex-deprived,” Megumi insisted, his face turning a shade of crimson.

“MY BOY!” Yuji cheered, rushing in for a celebratory dap.

“Not like that,” Megumi murmured, his cheeks burning as the room erupted in laughter, the awkwardness of the situation making it clear that maybe he should have kept his phone in his pocket.

“Alright, let’s get down to business. We need to nail this new song for our upcoming gig,” Yuta finally says as the laughter dies down, holding a stack of sheet music with an air of importance.

“Finally!” Yuji cheered, bouncing on his drum stool.

“Yeah, yeah,” Toge muttered, putting his phone away and grabbing the microphone. “Let’s see what this new song’s all about.”

Yuta handed out the lyric sheets and nodded at the band. “This one’s a bit different—more upbeat. I want to hear energy and precision. Let’s start with the intro and build from there.”

extras!

• the band in sjap is called triDANT not triDENT bc the group collectively came up with the name together but toge was the one entrusted (first mistake) who had to write it down for copyright purposes etc paper work ete anyways this man CANNOT spell so that's why it's with an A instead of an E lol

• yes the group definitely clowned him for it but they couldn't change it so it stuck and they ran with it

• toge did go to the gym but he snuck in when yuji went and they definitely blasted him on their social media page and stuck his face on the wall of shame😭

• the tickets sold out COMPLETLY and yn lowkey wanted one for herself…

• definitely did not smile to herself when panda told them he scored her tickets thanks to toge..

• dramatic ass

• megumi has convinced himself he only texts yn to piss herself and nothing more than that

• i aspire to be at his level of delusion

• yn, panda and nobara all went to whole foods and asked if they had any close to expire tomato’s at the back (they did)

• they went home with 2 crates full of the most saggiest wettest tomato’s in existence

• hope u guys enjoyed the week overdue chap :3

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @iiwaijime @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @bonitoflakez @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[theragethatisdesire]

eren jaeger x reader, jean kirstein x reader - drabble, 18+!!!

wrote this a few weeks ago and i'm bored so have a little drabble of a jean x reader x eren threesome from...another angle<3 sorry i've been so dry lately, have this as my official apology :)

minors do not interact. this is nsfw and intended for those 18 and up.

wc: 1.6k

warnings: degradation, p in v, fem!reader, sorta dubconny if you squint (reader's just a lil shy), voyeurism;)

-

Jean’s girl.

It has a nice ring to it, one that you’re proud of. His parents’ friends refer to you as such, always going on about how cute you look in those sundresses you wear to Sunday dinner. When you stop by the office, paper bag in hand, the boys yell out, “Jean’s girl’s back! Got any lunch in there for me, sweetheart?”. Even Jean himself is guilty, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear and whispering that he “needs to see his girl’s pretty face”.

“Look at your girl, Jean,” Eren says with a cruel, barked laugh. It’s mocking, makes your cheeks burn even hotter, if that were possible.

“I see,” Jean says quietly, the lower half of his face disappearing behind his beer as he takes a sip, “I see her.”

You squirm in Eren’s lap, trying to adjust to the foreign weight of him inside of you, wincing at the slide of your thighs on his, made easy by the wetness he’s already coaxed from your body. Jean’s eyes are dark as he watches you wriggle, one hand palming over the bulge behind his zipper, slow and steady. You really can’t believe he let you do this—let Eren do all of this, this slow unraveling of your body, this tarnishing of your pretty title. Jean’s girl, spread out on Eren’s lap with his cock shoved up into her stomach. Your head spins.

“How’s it feel, baby?” Eren’s eyes are sparkling, wide and glittering like a mountain cat lying behind a bush, when he thumbs at your chin. You know now that his teeth are as sharp as they look, the aching blossom of fresh bruises thudding along your shoulders.

“J-Jean,” you stutter out pathetically, trying to turn your head to your boyfriend. Eren’s faster, large hand wrapped around your jaw and snapping your head back to him.

“Try again.” He thrusts his hips up, not too rough, but enough that you feel it, a weak mewl falling from your lips. Eren smirks. “That’s not Jean, is it?”

“S’alright, baby,” Jean says from across the room, from too far away. Hot shame clouds your eyes in the form of tears as you realize you want him closer, but you don’t want him inside of you, not yet; you’re growing unwittingly fond of the novel stretch of Eren between your legs, your muscles tense and flexing to keep yourself from rocking forward on to him. “Be sweet to Eren.”

“Yeah,” Eren coos, dripping with condescension as he rubs his thumb through the drool on your bottom lip, “be sweet to me.”

You nod shakily, wiggling your hips again and having to bite into your lip to stop the moan from escaping, but with the way Eren’s grinning at you, you think he knows what lies in the back of your throat. Well, he does know, to an extent– your jaw still aches from him fucking into your mouth earlier, stretching your lips wide around him.

“I’m gonna ask you again,” Eren says firmly, pressing his forehead to yours, “how’s my cock feel in you, hm?”

“Feels good,” you slur quietly, barely more than a breath. It’s enough for Eren, it seems, as he groans and throws his head back. You watch his Adam’s apple bob with the throaty noise, watch the furrow appear between his dark eyebrows. He really is beautiful, breathtaking even– he reminds you of that painting, what was it called? The Fallen Angel?

Eren’s head lolls back up, his bright eyes flickering over every part of you, like he doesn’t know where he wants to start, pretty creature that you are. He trails his hands over your breasts, stopping to tweak a nipple and grinning viciously when you yelp in surprise. His fingers move further, down over your ticklish rib cage and swirling around your belly button before settling firmly on your hips. Eren looks at you like he might eat you alive if you turn your back for one second, and your stomach twists.

“It’ll feel better if you move, won’t it? Want my help?”

You look questioningly to Jean, who shakes his head no at you, and inclines it in Eren’s direction. Not me, him.

Scary isn’t the right word for Eren, not when he has so much love in his stomach, but it’s all guarded under several strips of barbed wire. Poison drips from his tongue as readily as sugarwater might; he swallows it all the same. You’re sitting atop a creature with teeth, a creature that fights when it’s cornered, but god– isn’t he so pretty?

“Yes,” you breathe out to him, twitching your hips atop his as if to emphasize your point. Eren chuckles darkly in his throat, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bite. He rolls you against him once, twice, and three times is enough to have your jaw dropping, eyes flitting up to the sky.

“There you go,” Eren grits out, swearing under his breath when you tighten around him, “told you she liked me, Jean.”

“Knew she liked you,” Jean bites back at him, huffing a little laugh when you moan in protest, in embarrassment, “just wanted to see if she’d show you.”

“She’s braver than you give her credit for.” Eren thumbs at your chin again, chokes on a groan when you suck it into your mouth, run your tongue lovingly along the pad of his finger. “Look at that…beautiful.”

He’s rolling your hips faster now, enough to force a tinny whine from you. You can feel Jean’s eyes lingering, can hear the wet schlick of his hand on his now-freed cock; you’ll ask him later what you looked like, back arched and breasts shaking to the rhythm of your own haggard breathing, rocking your hips into Eren’s like your salvation depends on it. Jean’s girl, taking his best friend’s dick while he watches. Anything for your man.

Eren’s hand wanders down your tacky stomach, starts rubbing at your swollen clit gently. It’s so raw and sensitive after nearly half an hour of Eren prodding and sucking and licking at it with his tongue, that you jolt harshly, like you’ve been electrocuted.

“Eren!”

“Good?” Eren pants, and suddenly, you’re both moving so much faster than you were before. Eren’s bullying himself up into you, hitting something that reminds you of Jean, and your tears fall faster. “Tell me how good it is.”

“It’s– fuck, so good,” you whimper, cutting yourself off with a moan. Eren hisses in satisfaction, pistoning up into you faster.

“Listen to that dirty fucking mouth,” Eren chides, abandoning your clit in favor of wrapping his hand in your tangled hair, grabbing a fistful and forcing you close to his face, “you don’t sound like Jean’s perfect little girl to me, not anymore.”

A sharp inhale from across the room reminds you of your lovely, golden boyfriend, of the cock he’s fisting watching you fall apart in Eren’s arms. It brings a rush of fresh heat to your veins, one that’s mercifully absent of shame. It’s the sparks of your orgasm, white-hot and creeping along your bones like it means to pull your head under.

“I n-need to cum, please,” you admit, whining it openly in the air for Jean to hear. His only answer is a quiet swear, the sounds of his hand growing faster and wetter. Eren laughs again, pulls your chin down to him.

“So polite, aren’t you? Give me a little something baby, wan’ a taste.” Eren tugs your mouth open with his thumb, opens his jaw expectantly. Even amidst the rhythm of you bouncing on him, you find the presence of mind to spit, a long strand of drool swaying from your lips as it falls into his mouth. Eren’s eyes flicker at you menacingly when he swallows, growls deep in his chest.

“Good girl,” Jean murmurs from across the room, “good fucking girl.”

“Hear that?” Eren says, fisting your hair harder as your walls flutter around him, betraying just how close you are to going under. “He’s so proud of you, isn’t he? Taking my cock like a fucking champ.”

“Uh-huh,” you moan pitifully, hips moving with a mind of their own. Your eyes are out of focus, but through the bleary haze of your tears and pleasure, you can make out Eren, jaw slack and eyes sharp as he watches you start to truly lose it. His fist around your hair grows so tight you squeak, and he yanks your head down to rest against his shoulder. It would be almost sweet, if he weren’t tearing you apart at the seams.

Eren’s lips, his hot breath, ghost over the shell of your ear as he whispers to you. “Bet he’ll be twice as proud if you cum all over my cock, nice and pretty for us.”

That snaps the thin thread of sanity remaining in you, and you convulse around Eren, wailing into his shoulder. He makes no effort to shush you, to pet you gently and work you through it; no, Eren only curses loudly, bites into your shoulder so hard your body jerks even as it clenches and contracts around him, shoots his hips up into you– a warmth begins filling you from the inside out, sticky and balmy against the electric aftershocks of the orgasm wracking your limbs.

Once Eren’s hips have stopped twitching up into yours, he grabs your tired body by the shoulders, shoving you to sit up properly on his softening cock. You mumble something akin to discomfort, wiggling as disobediently as you can while Eren examines you. Your muscles are still quivering with the aftereffects of cumming, though, and you aren’t able to put up much of a fight, something Eren notices and grins at.

“You’re really something, aren’t ya?” Eren says to your limp form, rubbing his hands on your shoulders. “Might have to share your girl more often, Jean.”

-

just a little snack while i battle my way through the 1500 wips i have going!! <3 love you all

[eccentricallygothic]

Mine.

Description: Embry is secure in your relationship, but you are too perfect for anyone to be able to resist your attractiveness.

Pairing: Alpha!Embry Call | Omega!Reader. 

Warning(s): Slight insecurity, jealousy, Embry is in LOVE, reader is kind of a dummy, kissing, possessiveness, slight top reader, manhandling, hair pulling, groping, pinching, unprotected p-in-v, smut with plot I am afraid, rubbing/grinding, dick riding, doggy style, missionary, imprinting and a/b/o stuff, breeding kink, dirty talk, d/s dynamics (it's me), overstimulation. MDNI.

Type: Request, here.

. . . 

“Gee, it's hot today” Leah huffs as she approaches Emily's dining table whilst tugging down her tank top with one hand and fanning herself with the other. “Even by my standards.” Some of you are already sitting down and the rest are divided in little groups that tinker about in the pack leader's house. A few groans of agreement sound around the table and you snort, your fingers busy with tuning your guitar. “It's literally like I am on fire” she gulps down the icy lemonade your undisputed hostess has prepared for the lot of you. “Fuck, I am so hot” she pinches the material of her tanktop before tugging it back and forth to try and bring herself some solace. 

You shrug, eyes set on the pegs that you twist and adjust as you lean some of your body weight onto your mate who reclines on his own chair beside you and munches on a hot muffin, unbothered by your doing so. He has told you time and time again that he likes it, actually. “Agreed” you do not notice how the table goes silent and everyone turns to look at you. Even Leah's eyes widen a bit though this is nothing new. You're plagued with the curse of being an effortless flirt. Your mate had his fair share of (pleasant) surprises in the beginning and often even mistook what was a mere response to you for you being bold. “Very hot” your eyes briefly bounce from the machine heads to scan over her tense form and the female in question flushes. 

Paul and Jake howl in the crass way typical to them and the others chuckle. 

“See, you're doing it again!” Seth points an accusatory finger at you and you just snort before you shake your head and look down at your guitar again. 

“No, I am not” it is always an argument between others, especially Seth, and you that you subconsciously flirt. “It's a fact” barks sound around the table once more and you scoff at them, muttering reassurances to yourself that you only meant to compliment her. 

“I mean, you're not so bad yourself, sparkle” you roll your eyes at Jared's lewd smirk and his use of the corny ass nickname the pack has chosen for you. 

Your beautiful fur is so shiny that it sparkles as though it has been dusted with glitter, hence the name.

“Dude” Jake chimes in. “Totally agreed. You're both totally hot” you don't look up to the nods of approval that follow. 

“Like, excuse my French or whatever but,” uh oh, it's never good when Paul starts a sentence like that. He waves both his hands as he tilts his head back, adding heavy moments of suspense to his intentional silence. “I wouldn't say no to a little Leah and sparkle salad” Seth retches as his features scrunch in disgust but most of the other guys howl in agreement and cheer. You feel Embry stiffen beside you but he keeps his composure and hides his disapproval into the soft muffin because he knows Paul well enough to know that this is one of his intentional attempts at eliciting a reaction by being profane. He loves to provoke until it's his turn. 

“Dude!” Seth groans, one hand on his stomach. “Why are you like this?!” His eyes scrunch. “Ugh!” 

“Would be a sight to behold though—” Quill is cut off by Sam.

“Hey!” The Leader calls out across the table in his heavy and authoritative voice when his fiance gently nudges his shoulder to get the horndogs to stop. They are a family, yes, but an Alpha's patience isn't to be toyed with especially if his mate is in question. “That's enough” though it is not nearly as scary as Sam can get since there is a small smile on his own face, everyone still instantly shuts up all the same.

You are not really bothered because you only have eyes for your dear Alpha who has subconsciously snuck an arm around your back to feel you even closer to yourself. You finish up with your guitar and although reluctant, play a couple tunes upon Emily's request and everyone takes turns singing snippets that fit the melodies your fingers produce. 

Hours pass and it is only after dinner that you all set out for your own homes. “So long, hottie~” Embry and you are already a couple feet away from Sam and Emily's house, hand in hand while he carries your guitar for you, when you hear Paul and Jake whistle from behind. 

You snicker but don't look back and instead raise your free hand to wave them goodbye before the two of you take the turn that leads to your own house. 

The two of you walk in the comfortable silence of your dynamic for half of the way, relaxing in each other's presence after a stimulating day as your entwined fingers rock back and forth. It is only when the house appears in your line of sight after another turn and walking past a couple heavy trees when Embry speaks up, pondering and calculating with his words. 

“They're too much.” 

You chuckle and lean into him a little. “Or maybe…” You shrug before glancing at him. “It’s me” a teasing smile tugs at your lips as his eyebrows furrow. 

Ever the loving and supportive mate and lover, Embry rushes to reassure you. “No, no, baby” he lightly shakes his head for emphasis. “All you did was compliment her, angel. It's not you” his fingers tighten over yours in earnest.

“Yeah?” You raise a playful eyebrow, amused. 

“Yeah” he chooses to ignore it because he knows what you're trying to do and since he swears that he is not a territorial jerk, he refuses to give in. He is not ‘like the other Alphas’, if you will. “The guys just…” He carefully chooses his words. “They're—”

“You do know that I am yours, right? No matter what anyone says on purpose or accident, you are the only one I want and you are the only one my heart belongs to” you cradle his hand that you hold to your heart as you ascend the steps to your house. 

Usually, he doesn't even let it come to this. “Yeah…” But he needs it from time to time even if he assures you that he doesn't, granted how you steal the very air from everyone in the most natural of states.

“Yeah?” You stop to stare at him, one eyebrow raised and a hand curled around the door handle but you don't open it just yet, your smile deepening into a smirk.

You can hear his inward groan. “Yes” his red ears tell you everything you need to know. Gosh, you love how he isn't a typical violent, brooding and impulsive Alpha like Paul or some others you know. “Let's just—” you interrupt his weak attempt at reassurance with a kiss. 

You pull back just for a second to look at him. 

“You don't have to do this because of that, you know? It's really fine. It's not your fault the guys are the way they are and I know you don't mean it like that because—” you interrupt his ramblings with a click of your tongue.

You appreciate Embry's understanding nature, but you cannot help the thrill you feel when he gets possessive or insecure over you.

It makes you feel wanted and treasured.  

“You talk too much sometimes, you know?” Your mouth collides into his and your lips melt against his, the fluttering warm feeling making him groan into the kisses that grow heated with the passing second. You peel the guitar off of him as you pull him through the threshold and walk him into the couch while passionately kissing him after kicking the door closed with one heel. You put a heavy hand on his nape to keep him from digressing again. It does not actually do much to affect him but he lets you have your way, a whimper leaving him when you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip.

“I— I—” he blinks to get a grip of himself when you pull away, his heavy pants only firing you up even more because of how worked up he looks and feels. Your omega heat rushes to their confines in different pockets of your body and as the first of your pearly slick trickles down your thigh, you begin to push at his chest and keep at it until his heavy form lands on the couch. “Baby, it's really—” you crawl his huge body and his hands instantly dart to your legs to feel and grope your tender skin. You moan and grind against his erection. 

You can feel he is holding back and that only provokes you even more.

You shush him by ghosting a seductive finger over his lips. His Adam's apple violently bobs at you doing so. “Haven't done that in a while, have I?” Your whisper is the kind of whisper that makes blood rush to his cock and his hips lift to find relief against yours. “So allow me…” You lower yourself until your lips touch the area under his nose and you give him a chaste kiss before moving down to his pink lips. Embry whimpers out a growl and his fingers flex over your thighs before snaking their way to your ass. Your lips leave sloppy kisses along his jaw and you soon reach his ear to let out a sensual little breath that always churns all his gears. “To remind you” he inaudibly curses as his erection twitches against your spread core and he squeezes your ass tightly. 

“Y- You don't have to…” He looks for ways to reason with you but you take it away by nipping at his earlobe before trapping it between your lips and pulling a good suck out of it. You hum as your slick further gushes down your inner thighs and you feel it pool between your spread legs. 

He may not be an Alpha who loses his head to insecurity but the rare occasion he does or is made to by you is always so fun.

“Oh, but I want to, babe” you say and he lets out a moan at the purr that comes out of your throat. You straddle his waist, your legs spread over him and your dripping core rubbing over his shorts. He firmly holds you against him and rocks against you to match your slow pace. You moan into his mouth as you kiss him and pull at the hem of his tank top. Your fingers curl around it and you pull the thin material off of his beautifully tan and sculpted body, letting it fall somewhere behind him. The two of you gasp and pant into your fevered kisses as you press your bodies against each other's to feel even closer. The heat sizzles out of his slightly damp skin due to how his blood boils and the way in which the bare skin sticks to yours makes you shudder and moan into his mouth that he fills with his tongue. 

“Mmmm” your mouth deviates to his neck and you leave a trail of kisses and bites down to his collarbone and over his pectorals. His hands scramble to feel every inch of your exposed back and you whimper, rocking your hips as you drag your tongue along his chest and Embry growls loudly. 

His resolve is weakening. 

Good.

Your tongue continues to paint wet trails over Embry's torso while enjoying his woody sweat and he shivers when your mouth ghosts over his nubs and you peck them just slightly. He swears he doesn't like that kinda stuff but the erection doesn't lie. You cannot resist the impulse to bite his Adam's Apple next and you hear him hiss out a groan, his whole body tightening under yours, in sync with his needy cock. You feel his fingers dig into your spine as though he wants to pull you completely open for himself and you moan into the suck you have clamped on his neck. It gets increasingly hurried. It is messy. It is hot. And you are going to leave your mark on him for he is just as much yours as you are his. 

The two of you seem drunk on one another's scent and pheromones, your bodies in a desperate need to devour one another's. 

Your hand cups the tent in his shorts and you rub and massage it through the fabric. “Gosh, I love you so much” Embry huffs out a groan as he looks at you with eyes heavy with both arousal and affection. “You're so fuckin’ hot, baby” tingles flutter all over your abdomen and your lips part from how the grinding of your cunt feels against his rigid member. “So perfect.”

You smile mischievously as you push back on your heels and slide his shorts down his toned legs that he aids with a life of his hips. A loud smack sounds in the air because of the way cock springs up, hard and glistening with precum and collides with the taut muscles of his belly and your mouth waters at the way it twitches, your nose tingles because you can smell his arousal all the way from where you are and your petals flutter when fresh, pearly slick bubbles out of the tip. 

But you are not quite done yet. 

Embry's hand reaches to stroke himself but you click your tongue as if he is a misbehaving child and gently nudge it away with your own. As an Omega, you don't usually get like this despite everyone pining over you and your mate doting on you all the time and the Alpha's surprised gaze signals that he is equal parts taken aback and turned on with the knowledge that you are a small little thing compared to him, completely dependent upon his mercy if it comes to it, but his bestowing of a free hand upon you allows you to act liberally and even then you choose to serve him.

“Not so fast” your words are an entrancing lull. Embry huffs but keeps his hand away from his aching cock and you begin to sensually undress yourself. You are not a professional or anything so you don't have that kind of edge to it, but your heat tends to make the art of seduction a very effortless second nature matter to you. The Alpha growls and needily reaches for you instead this time around, his fingers kneading the soft skin of your hips as he begins to help you by pulling at your clothes. The primal action of his nature makes you yelp with a gasp at first but it melts into quiet giggles and then whimper-moans soon enough. Your tank top comes off first and his eyes take their sweet time enjoying your chest as you heave for him in response to his touch, your nipples pebbling because of how sensitive your body is. Embry looks at them hungrily and he swallows audibly, his heavy, wanton breaths weighing down his urge to wrap his mouth around them. Since he can't act on that impulse, his fingers hurriedly help you rid yourself of your pants and they pool around your ankles before you kick them away. 

You smirk to yourself as you see the glazed look on his face, his cock twitching on his belly as his heavy chest heaves with want. The Alpha's dark eyes trace the curves of your hips and follow the shape of your waist until he finds your dripping cunt that shines with slick. 

“Fuck” Embry groans and his hips jerk in sync with his twitching erection. “Fuck, baby” he looks like he is going to come just by looking at you.

Which means he is getting desperate.

Good. 

“Tsk” letting out an amused snort, you place your smaller hands against his broad shoulders to push them back as his huge form is looming in your direction and as he moves back, you move forwards until you have climbed him and the undersides of your thighs are straddling his laps, your feet on either side of him and knees bending to get as close to him as possible. You let your weight go because Embry's strong legs supporting it has never been an issue. As a matter of fact, he has confessed time and time again that he rather likes how you press down on him like his good little Omega baby. 

“Mmm” your teeth clamp down on your lower lip as you begin to rub your soaked and thumping folds all over his erection and the way his eyes widen in shock and pleasure as your wet cunt glides over his cock only makes you grind harder in anticipation of what would come next. 

“You like that, baby?” He is still an Alpha, he needs to assert himself somehow so his wolf can remain assured of its ownership and power over you.

“Mmm, Alpha, you're so good!” It only takes a few grinds and you're cumming, your walls clenching and your slick dripping onto his belly and thighs. “Fuck” you moan out a curse of your own though you know he doesn't like you using that kind of language when he is in his Alpha space, your cunt pulsates with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You sit on his thighs and lean back on your hands as you catch your breath, eyebrows furrowed and little whines leaving you from his dick slightly grazing against your petals and twitching. Your heat completely takes over at that point and your body becomes a living inferno.

You aren't like most people or Omegas. Your body reaches its optimum only after you have cum once. Because you love to chase and be made to find your release through the stinging thumps and frustration of overstimulation.

You feel Embry's cock squish against your slick drenched thigh and you look down at it. His growing knot is so big that it seems to rest over your tender lap like a dangerous serpent. “Baby” his hands trace along your hips and your waist, his thumbs tracing your sides. “Can I?” 

He is cracking. 

And though your nature grows the haze of submissiveness in your mind, you only rock your ass harder on his girth.

You can't say anything but just stare down at him like you are entranced, a primal silence engulfing you where it is only instinct and nothing else. Your heart pounds in your ears. It's like a thousand thoughts bolt around in your brain all at once and yet your mind holds onto each one for eternities. Need pulls at your limbs from every direction. 

“I need to feel you, baby” he pleads and you just wordlessly nod, one hand flying to clutch his shoulder tightly. Embry's eyes light up, his hands instantly lifting your ass and sliding your cunt down the length of his cock.

Just to make you cry out, he jerks his cock into you with a jab of his hips, the sensation making him let out a groan and you a mewl, the omega in you shuddering from the sensitivity and yet obediently taking him. Your walls flutter as you feel yourself stretch to fit his girth and you look down to see how your flesh takes him. His cock fills you to the brim and you are filled with an indescribable sensation of fullness that only Embry can give you, the velvet of your insides stirring against his hard girth. 

In mere moments, you're so full that you can't decide whether it is good or painful. Perhaps both. Your core is so wet that you can feel his cock drown in your slick because of the sloshing sounds your riding it -which is essentially Embry carefully moving you about it because his cock is not a joke to accommodate- makes. When you are comfortable, you begin to speed up your movements with the passing second, your ears and heart pounding with nearly unbearable fireballs running wild in your blood. 

“Gosh” Embry pants and a gasp leaves him when you slide down a certain way and knock the breath right out of him, your ass bouncing against his heavy sack and the visual of your boobs jumping doesn't help him. You know you must be a sight to look at. Your knees rock into his toned thighs and you clutch his hard shoulders, panting like a crazed animal as you wince from the painful pleasure. It wouldn't be the first time that you transformed mid fuck because it was too much for you to handle. “Look at you” he groans out raspily, his throat parched. “So fucking beautiful, angel” his long fingers grip your ass to keep you on the rhythm even if your Omega sensitivity makes you falter because some thrusts often get too much for you and your form lops to the side. His hands run all over your hips, your stomach, your breasts and the back of your head, his trimmed nails feeling your delicate nape before they reach to tangle in your locks and your scalp stings from the gentle tug.  

Your body is afloat on pheromone and sensation alike, your skin melts into Embry's golden touch that desperately feels every inch of your body. His grips on you turn harsher when your walls pulsate around him and the way he pulls you to him makes your entrance seethe out bubbling pearly slick down his cock, the angel puddle pooling down on his balls. Every movement sends sparks of pleasure through your core and up your spine. 

“Alpha!” Your teeth sink into your tongue because of how you tense in response to his fingers cupping your mound before his rough thumb tickles your clit. Your droopy eyes fly open as you let yourself feel every inch of him and every flicker of pleasure that your body sends to your brain. “Oh my Goshhh” you whimper out his name as you cum once more, the muscles of your thighs convulsing from the tightly shut dam that trembles free in your loins. Your cunt clamps around his cock and you feel him groan out at the feeling of his own high approaching.

His resolve finally snaps at the feeling of your hot orgasm and he lets out a growl so loud it nearly shakes the walls of the house. Your fucked out brain is too dazed to catch up with how he spins you around on his cock and moves the two of you so you're kneeling in front of the living room coffee table. Your elbows find the tabletop and his hands hook under your hips. He presses his cock into you and pulls your ass back and up so that his cock buries itself to the hilt in your dripping pussy. You feel it push against the swollen, reluctant walls of your cunt and a scream rips from your lips at the sensation. 

Embry pulls out and slams himself back in with a loud slap of skin against skin. His hand comes down on your ass cheek with a loud slap that makes you cry out, your cunt tries to close itself against him.

“Yes, Alpha!” Yet you mewl, wanting more. “Gimme your cum, please!” You tilt your head to look back at him with hazy eyes to urge him on with a lustful widening of your mouth and he stares back with his darkened and blown out eyes.

You are a mess of pure wanton. 

The Alpha lets out a hoarse groan as he watches the way you take his cock. “Fucking hell, baby” he pants. “You little tease” his hips jerk against yours and your breasts bounce over your arms as he fucks into your cunt. Your insides stiffen around his girth in a way that makes your head spin upon his tip fighting its way closer and closer to your cervix and you cannot help but let out a series of frenzied whimper-moans.

“Don't do it on purpose, do you?” His voice is primal and dangerous. “Is that why you provoke me into claiming you after? Huh, you little brat?!” He scolds and starts to firmly jack hammer his cock into your pussy, on the verge of his own climax and so fast that you almost feel like you're on the edge of passing out from the sensory overload.

It doesn't matter if his words are true or not. 

They always get the both of you off.

And when an Alpha and Omega are left to their devices, the sex is the only thing that has to make sense.

And that it does.

So much.

“You're going to milk me dry, my little Omega slut” Embry pants out a guttural order and you moan at how he snakes a ripped arm to the front of your body and slams you back into his toned chest. Your head falls back on his shoulder and you faintly register his fingers feeling up the expanse of your neck. He pounds into you so hard it feels as though he is hitting your uterus with every snap of his hips, your smaller body bouncing on his cock like a straw doll with each thrust. His whole cock sheaths balls deep into your tight slick coated walls before he pulls out all the way until his tip is barely probing you. Your slick drips from where you two are connected down to the both of your thighs and knees. He grabs your hair and tilts your head until your body arches in the way he likes and your nipples point up at the ceiling from the wave of excitement and arousal that an imaginative construction of the visual of your bodies washes over you. “You're mine, you hear me?” He snarls as your marked mating gland comes to light and he wraps your hair around his fingers to keep it out of his way. Embry's mouth clamps down onto the canine scarred patch and he suckles at it like a starved predator, his sharp teeth fitting right into the crevices they created once upon a time ago. Your whole body jolts from the impact and you clench. 

Fuck, it feels good.

“Ohhh—” your body curves outwards and you cry out in ecstacy. “Yes! Yours!” You moan out with a throaty voice. “Only yours, Alpha!” you tremble and send vibrations down his cock as a result, the sensation making him growl into your mating gland and lighting you up all over again. 

“I'm going to fill you up with my cum until your pretty little pussy it so stuffed it can't take or feel anymore” he growls while trapping your waist between his arms, the confinement causing your insides to feel his cock even more vividly and you cannot help but scream for mercy as he bends the both of you over the tabletop to fuck you into the piece of furniture, roughly pushing one of your legs up so it hangs over the edge closest to you and thus giving him even deeper access against your cervix. 

But that's the best thing about having the anatomy of an Omega, it doesn't hurt when he fucks into your womb. Matter of fact, your kind is made to take cocks like that without any kind of damage. And it feels fucking amazing. 

Your brain cannot think anymore. All you can do is feel as your eyes flutter close from the dignity numbing fuck.

Your mind is completely taken over by him as he bruises up your claim mark. It has a feeling of its own. When he gets to toying with it, he doesn't have to tickle your clit anymore because his touching your mating gland elicits such sensations in your body that they heat your clit up as if it's being rubbed silly with a tangible object though it's actually not.  

Embry does not relent until he has cum inside of you a number of times, your head being too fucked out and fuzzy to keep track. His hot seed fills you up so much that it spills out of you true to his promise. You are completely drained when he finishes with you and you hang from the table limply, his cock still pulsing inside of your exhausted cunt. You think it's over and so you begin to dimly yearn for the warmth of the bath he will run you now.

Well.

Jokes on poor little you.

“What?” He chuckles as he turns you on his fat knot once more so you face him, his fingers grabbing a handful of your slick and cum covered ass once more. “Done already, are we?” You numbly blink up at him, brain out of commission.

“H- Huh?” You blink to try and clear your neon vision, trembling hands blindly tapping about for him when he patiently waits for you to respond. 

He chuckles and effortlessly lifts you off the table, his knot swollen between your walls in a bittersweet tuck.

“Up we go, baby” you feel his hands run up your thighs and your back before he walks towards the bedroom while holding you in his arms and on his cock. You moan as his dick rubs against your walls because of the movement, your pussy dripping your mixed juices all over the place. Each step makes his cock stir your stinging insides.

“Shit” Embry curses under his breath at the sight of your shivering body. “Your cunt is still so wet and tight, baby” his fingers slip away from your ass as he plops you down on the bed and his cock slips out of your cunt, the empty feeling of loss making you whine despite the overstimulation. “So pretty and raw pink too” he lets out a chuckle, dark eyes watching you while his long fingers caress his cock. It's his turn to tease now. Your cum oozes out of you in a stream and coats the mattress in a pearlescent puddle as you cannot do much but lay there panting like a bitch in heat -which you are-, your legs dangling from the edge of the bed, teeth nibbling at your bottom lip in anticipation. 

“Maybe children will finally wise you up, huh baby?” He says as he turns to get you some water from the bedside table. “And just maybe, you won't ‘unintentionally’ flirt like a clumsy little Omega baby then” realization hits you like a gong.

He is only replenishing you for…

Though you whimper and pout up at him, too submissive to complain, you feel tiny flames of excitement come to life within you once more. 

Fuck. 

You are obedient in how he pushes you further up on the bed so he can crawl over you like the predator he is. And he spreads your legs open to make you completely and comfortably accessible to himself because you got a long night to go. Embry needs to make you marked and loud enough for everyone to see tomorrow and hear tonight just who you belong to. 

Next his manly hands move your ankles to his shoulders and he pats your petals with his heavy tip to make your fleshy folds shrivel and tremble in the way he likes, the thumping bringing them back into commissioner. Soon after, his cock sinks into you once more and he takes a hold of your sticky thighs so he can do you how he likes best. He slowly begins to fuck into you and his coarse hands squeeze your breasts and his fingers twist your nipples to ‘milk’ you for his future pups, or so he tells you. Your toes curl and your eyes roll to the back of your head at the thought.

The wolf is out.

And he is here to play.

. . .

Fun fact, the Leah thing happened irl where I accidentally said that to one of my female teachers lmfao.

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (5/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: uprotected sex, drunk sex (with consent), incest obviously, smut, fingering, the angst, panic attack, violence, bad & morally unacceptable things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When he got up from the pier and moved ahead, he felt like his head was going to explode. He clutched at the left side of his face, his artificial eye, feeling that, as usual when he panicked, his hypersensitive nerves made him feel a stinging discomfort and pain in his eye socket.

"Come. Let's take a walk." He heard a defiant, harsh voice in front of him and raised his gaze, surprised to see Daemon's silhouette heading towards him.

"Fuck off." He hissed, wanting to avoid him, but the man's hand clamped down aggressively on his arm, stopping him in mid-step.

"We need to talk about my daughter." He said, making his heart leap into his throat, cold sweat running down his back.

"What do I have to do with her?" He asked coldly, unable to look him in the face, staring dully ahead.

"Clearly too much. So?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, his free hand slowly moving to the back pocket of his trousers, to his penknife.

"– don't –" Daemon said.

He swallowed hard when he let go of him, turning away, moving with a lazy, slow step towards the shore. He followed him, looking around, Jace's concerned face watching them from afar.

"Don't worry. I told him to wait until we were done talking." He said, standing between the trees in such a place to be sure no one would overhear them.

"Something happened between you two eight years ago. I want to know what." He said matter-of-factly, resting the weight of his body on his left leg, looking around as if he was annoyed at being forced to converse with him.

He felt the heat of horror in his stomach at his question, as if he had been caught red-handed.

"My left eye happened to me." He growled, wanting to close the subject and get as far away from this man as possible. "Anything else?"

"My daughter put something on her mouth before we left. It must have had some glitter on it, because it sparkled. But when I saw her just now, she no longer had any lip gloss on." He said wearily, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye as if to check his reaction, his gaze piercing and sharp, making his breath get stuck in his throat.

Oh God.

Oh my fucking God.

Seeing that he stood with his lips parted, looking at him like an idiot, Daemon chuckled and shook his head in disbelief.

"I knew she was hiding something." He muttered more to himself than to him. "How long has this been going on?"

What?

"What do you mean?" He asked, feeling a rush of adrenaline at the thought that his feelings, his sickening longing and desire might have been reciprocated by her.

Daemon looked at him with reluctance and sighed heavily.

"This thing between you two. What happened eight years ago?" He asked in a voice that indicated he was impatient and was not going to ask a third time.

He hated him with all his heart and despised him, but his directness, the way he saw what was elusive to others made him think, in a fit of desperation, that he had to get it off his chest.

That maybe when he finally told someone about it, he could move on at last.

"She was afraid of the dark and would come to sleep in my room." He muttered finally.

"You used her?" Daemon asked coldly, and he snorted, feeling a cold, unpleasant shiver run down his spine.

"I think you're completely out of your fucking mind." He hissed, not knowing what to do with his terror and his trembling hands, so he reached into the pocket of his jacket again and pulled out a cigarette, putting it in his mouth with an impatient flick of his hand.

Daemon stared at him wordlessly, watching as he lit it with his lighter.

"But something happened." He finally concluded, making him laugh involuntarily, taking a deep drag.

He shook his head, grinning broadly, not believing that he was having this conversation with this bastard, who was just waiting for his father to die to take over their business.

"Maybe." He hummed, letting out a puff of smoke through his nose, looking away into the complete darkness.

"You know she went to a psychiatrist? When she was in high school." Daemon said and he froze, his hand stopped in mid-motion towards his mouth. He swallowed hard, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

This is when she started posting pictures of herself with these boys, he thought, feeling discomfort in his chest.

"How did she get your phone number?" He asked, snapping him out of his reverie, making his heart stop for a moment.

"What?"

"She called you even though you're not on any social media and you haven't seen each other for eight years. How did she get your phone number?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, taking a drag on his cigarette and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the smoke out through his nose.

"I gave it to her."

"Why?"

"It's none of your fucking business."

"It's my business." He hissed.

Daemon took a step towards him, making him tense all over, ready to reach into the back pocket of his trousers if necessary.

"She's my daughter."

"She's not your daughter." He said coldly making his nostrils quiver in rage.

"You think blood ties are what make people family? Is that what your grandfather taught you? You know I used to work for him?" He asked, taking his cigarette from his hand, to his fury taking a drag on it before his eyes.

He was unable to respond, however, because what he said completely shocked him.

"Bullshit."

"Ask him. He took me in as a young boy, surely for similar tasks as you. Let me guess, you do the dirty work for him? Picking up cash from people who are late with their payment and making sure they will remember your warning well?" He sneered, hitting the cigarette with his finger, the ashes from it flew to the ground.

Daemon looked at him and smirked, seeing that he had turned pale.

Was he bluffing to get him off balance?

Perhaps he had been watching him and was now using it against him?

"You're using Jace for your own ends, and you're going to lecture me?" He growled through clenched teeth, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest, cold sweat running down his back.

Daemon snorted at his words, finishing off his cigarette, then threw it to the ground and crushed it with his boot.

"I gave him a choice: study and have a regular job, or work with me. He chose to work with me. What choice did Otto give you? Did he mention something about how you were already born in this world and will die in it? It would sound like him." He scoffed, putting his hands behind his back, sighing quietly.

He felt ashamed at the thought of feeling tears of humiliation under his eyelids, of feeling like a little deceived boy, someone's pawn, a dog his grandfather had let off the leash to bite someone who happened to get in his way.

It crossed his mind that he was not a human being to him.

"If you want to keep wallowing in this shit, be my guest, but stay the fuck away from my daughter or I'll kill you with my own hands." He hissed dryly and stepped around him, heading back to the building from which the loud music was coming, leaving him alone.

He drew in a loud breath as if he was suffocating and sat down on the sand, inhaling heavily, feeling that his whole body was shaking with fear.

Inhale and exhale, he repeated to himself, trying to calm down.

Inhale and exhale.

When he got up from the ground he just grunted and went back inside as if nothing had happened. His mother approached him, seeing his pale face and wide eyes.

"It's time for presents now. Did you bring what I asked you for?" She asked, clearly having in mind the books they had bought for his father, which he knew he wouldn't read anyway.

"– yes – yes, I'll bring them right away –" He muttered, noticing that his niece was not in the room.

He swallowed hard, heading for his car, escorted by the watchful gaze of his grandfather, thinking that perhaps she had gone home – he was relieved to see that Daemon's Mercedes was standing in the same place.

They were staying in hotel rooms for the night, he thought with disbelief and excitement, from which he felt ashamed.

He cursed under his breath as he closed the boot of his car and turned to see the figure of his grandfather walking towards him. He swallowed hard, correcting the packed set of books in his hands, turning his head away.

"So far there's been no bloodshed, has there? It's not so bad." He chatted him up with good-natured amusement, as if he wanted to make him laugh.

What choice did Otto give you?

Did he mention something about how you were already born in this world and will die in it?

Otto furrowed his brow, seeing the look on his face, and put his hand on his shoulder.

"I know how you feel at the sight of Luke. You want revenge. It's hard." His grandfather said calmly.

He snorted, shaking his head, realising that for the past hour he hadn't thought once about the boy who'd taken his eye from him.

He didn't give a shit.

He was small, scared, pathethic boy, nothing more.

What kind of opponent could he possibly be for him?

"It just so happened that I haven't had a chance to think about him. My head has been occupied by the people I've left behind with a few scars." He said finally in a manner from which Otto blinked, shifting from foot to foot.

"Are you overwhelmed by it? You can tell me." He said making him burst out in loud, unnatural laughter.

"Are you fucking serious?" He asked, and his grandfather shushed him, looking around.

"Keep your voice down. What's got into you now? We don't know how much time your father has left. We must watch our interests, for his death is coming whether we want it or not, and his passing will weaken us. Aegon would rather focus on running his brothel than real business, and I need you. You will replace me someday." He said, placing his hands on his arms in a way as if he was just giving him his blessing.

He stared at him in disbelief, feeling both horror and emptiness in his mind, convinced that it was Aegon who was about to take over the whole business.

The magnitude of everything that was happening around him so unexpectedly overwhelmed him, making it difficult for him to breathe.

I gave him a choice: study and have a regular job, or work with me.

"I want to study archaeology."

He heard the words leave his mouth, but he was sure it wasn't him who said them: they came out of his throat involuntarily, like the babbling of a small child.

His grandfather's reaction, the way he laughed in disbelief, shaking his head made him simply want to cry.

Otto saw it: saw the tear that ran down his face, saw his tightly clenched lips, saw his nostrils twitching with every breath.

"You're serious." He stated finally and sighed, closing his eyes.

"We'll think about it when things calm down. Maybe we can combine it with some part-time studies or night school. We'll find an understanding." He said, patting him on the shoulder, but he looked at him blankly, not seeing him.

He laughed.

It was his dream, and he laughed at it.

He stepped around him, wiping his cheek, returning to his asylum, his fortress in his mind, one that no one had access to.

His mother took their gift from him, along with a watch from Aegon and a set of fountain pens from Helaena and Otto, standing first in line to give Viserys a gift.

However, instead of focusing on his father, hardly sitting in his chair, his attention was focused on what his sister was saying to her husband behind his back.

"– she went to bed because she was feeling unwell – she said she had a stomach ache –"

"– our rooms are next to each other? –" He heard Daemon's voice.

"– yes – as we agreed – they are all double except hers –"

He swallowed hard at the thought that not only was she staying the night, but she was alone.

He thought, giving his father a gift from himself and his mother, forcing out of himself dry wishes for his health and prosperity, that he needed her like never before, that she would understand him.

She would not laugh at him.

He could still feel her plump, soft lips tasting of strawberries, and even the thought that Daemon knew he had kissed her could not make him give up the idea.

His mother insisted he stay another hour out of courtesy, so he surprised his older brother by demanding he bring them a bottle of whisky.

Aegon did so eagerly, pouring it into their glasses.

"What's the matter, brother? You seem shaken. Has the sight of your nephew roused you so? Or maybe your niece?" He asked, clinking his glass against his, tilting half of it immediately down his throat.

He took a loud sip from his glass, feeling an unpleasant sting in his chest at his words.

He did not answer.

Aegon scratched his chin, seeing the look on his face, the people around them getting drunker and drunker, dancing like it was the best night of their lives.

He couldn't believe how the people shaking this city could look so pathetic from the sidelines.

"Did you really kiss her? Then, eight years ago." He asked finally, and he froze, staring dully ahead.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, you know. Then, during our holiday. I yelled at you like some idiot, and now I think, after all, we were just little kids. I was a terrible son of a bitch." He hummed, spreading out comfortably in his chair.

"You still are." He said dispassionately, feeling a black, boundless void in his mind, involuntarily taking another deep sip of his whisky.

Aegon looked at him for a moment in thought.

"I was jealous. You left me alone with those idiots, her brothers, while you ran around and played in the sand by yourself. You didn't even ask me if I wanted to come with you." He muttered, already a little drunk himself, turning his glass in his hands, clearly sunk in his memories.

He sighed at his words and raised his gaze to the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Stop your bullshit. You humiliated me along with them at every turn. She was the only one who didn't do that and you're surprised it was her I ran away from you with? What fucking choice did I have? What do you all want from me? Hm?" He growled finally feeling that he was on the edge, that he was about to explode and something bad was about to happen.

Aegon swallowed hard, looking at him with big eyes, horrified.

"I'm sorry. For that joke with your boxers." He mumbled, lowering his gaze. "I regretted it later. But it was too late."

"Joke? You know what would be a really good joke? If our mother found out now that the club you so bravely run is just a cover for a brothel. That you fuck your own whores and don't even pay them for it." He said coldly with a broad grin, leaning his elbow against the back of the chair.

"Say, brother, wouldn't that be fun?" He asked, and after a moment stood up quickly, cursing loudly as Aegon vomited on the table.

His mother made him help his brother get to his room and together they walked to the reception desk, meeting his step-sister there.

"Reservation for Rhaenyra Targaryen." She said while his mother talked to the other woman about the room reserved for him and Aegon.

The thought that he was to sleep in the same space with him made him sick.

"Room 301, 302 and 303 – the key for room 301 was already handed out two hours ago." Said the receptionist. Rhaenyra nodded her head.

"Yes, yes, my daughter is already in her room, we just ask for the rest of the keys." She said.

He swallowed hard, feeling that his heart was pounding like mad at the dangerous thought that crossed his mind.

Room 301.

He carried Aegon into their room, which he had opened with a card earlier, and threw him on the bed like a sack of potatoes. He covered him carelessly with the duvet and sighed heavily, looking into the fridge, seeing a full bottle of whisky in it.

He pulled it out without thinking, opening the window wide, feeling that he was hot and cold at the same time. He unscrewed the cap from the glass bottle and took a few deep sips from it, sitting down on his bed.

Should he go to her or not?

She was probably already asleep.

Should he bother her after what he'd done to her?

What was he supposed to say to her?

Apologise?

There were no words, no sentences that could make up for the fact that he had not answered her for eight years.

He wanted to express his condolences to her after her father's death, but he didn't.

He was afraid that she would then want to renew contact, to meet up – he knew he wouldn't survive that, that it would all come back to him like a wave, that he would only ridicule himself.

He had never drank alcohol at such a rapid pace before, angry, sad, bitter, heartbroken, exhausted, always having to be the more considerate, cool, calculating brother when Aegon only lived from party to party.

He knew that his older brother, like him, could not cope with what was going on around them, with how brutal and ruthless the world they lived in was. He had witnessed several shootings in which people with whom he had been drinking shots of vodka the day before had lost their lives.

I want to study archaeology.

What the fuck had occurred to him to say that?

He felt an overwhelming shame that he had humiliated himself in front of his own grandfather, that he had shown that he was weak, that now neither he nor anyone else would respect him.

He took another loud, deep gulp of whisky at the thought, feeling the room around him become more and more blurred, his mind seeming to drift away and relax making his thoughts flow through his head like a river.

She tasted so wonderful: her lips. Her kisses were so sweet, tender, warm, moist. She must have kissed with her tongue before. With which boy for the first time? Probably with that fucking Robb, the hollow handsome guy from her year. He certainly didn't treat her well, otherwise she'd still be with him despite that photo on Facebook. Or maybe they were still together, only he didn't know it? She hadn't posted a picture with him in a year. They certainly weren't together. Fuck, how he hated him.

Had he managed to sleep with her before she realised he was a two-faced bastard? Or was she still a virgin? No, what he did to her didn't scare her, she must have had some experience. Was he tender to her? Had he prepared her well, made her all moist and eager? Did he do it slowly, did he make sure he wasn't causing her pain? Was he telling her how much he loved her, how good she made him feel?

He blinked, feeling that his cheeks were wet, that he was breathing loudly through his mouth, whooping with tears, that there were some high-pitched, squeaky sounds coming from his mouth as if he were a little boy.

I want to go to her, he thought.

I want her to hug me.

It turned out that getting out of his room and walking a small part of the corridor proved to be more difficult than he thought, because everything around him was spinning. He had no idea why he had taken his bottle with him, but he thought he felt safer with it.

Finally, he spotted the door with the number 301 in front of his face and knocked far too loudly, swallowing hard for air.

"− Rhaenys − fuck −" He muttered, feeling himself lose his balance and fall to the floor with a loud thud. He hissed, moving to the wall, leaning his head against it.

"− I want to go to sleep −" He mumbled pleadingly, wanting only to fall asleep next to her, nothing more.

He closed his eyes and hummed when he heard a quiet creak, and then her voice.

"Come."

He woke up, looking at her surprised, at her sweet, innocent face, and picked himself up quickly, too quickly, losing his balance again, falling to his knees, dropping the bottle and its contents on the floor.

"− fuck −" He cursed, trying to reach for it, but her hands tightened on his arm.

"− no − leave it − come inside −"

He was delighted to find that as he collapsed on her bed everything around him smelled of her − his erection pulsed happily at the thought, pleased as he was. He murmured when she felt him pull his shoes off his feet, making him spread out more comfortably, and then reached into his leather jacket.

"− you'll be too hot −" She whispered, and when he opened his eyes he saw her face above him in the darkness, the warm look of her gentle eyes.

He involuntarily put his arms around her waist and pulled her close making her squeal, his hand running over her wonderfully soft hair and neck.

"− come here − God, you smell so good −"He muttered with delight, in his original intention just wanting to hug her, spreading his legs apart so she could lie between them, pressed against his chest.

However, out of some natural reflex he kissed her, and as their fleshy lips pressed against each other in a loud, dirty, sticky kiss full of their tongues, his cock bumped against her belly, betraying his arousal.

"− tell me to leave −" He mumbled between one kiss and the next, stroking her fragrant hair, her back and buttocks, thinking that he didn't want to hurt her, that he just wanted to feel her, just like he did that night eight years ago when he kissed her for the first time. "− tell me to stop −"

But she didn't say anything, neither when his hands slid under the material of her panties nor when his fingers tentatively sank into her hot, silky womanhood.

She was leaking.

She whimpered into his mouth, quivering all over in his embrace as he began to play with her throbbing entrance, merely teasing it with the tips of his fingers, feeling her hard nipples pressed against his chest, slowly building hot tension in his lower abdomen.

"− shhh − easy now −" He breathed out into her mouth delighted that she was aroused, that she was all wet and thirsty for him and his caresses. His thumb pressed and stroked her bud in circular motions while the rest of his hand roamed over her hot slit, throbbing with longing.

Instead of pushing him away, she kissed him deeper and bolder, making his swollen erection painfully hard, pushing impatiently against her abdomen. He figured he had to prepare her well first for what he wanted put inside her, so he tentatively slid the tip of his middle finger into her.

She moaned loudly into his throat as he began to tease her, sliding his finger in and out, her fleshy walls soaking wet, warm and rough.

God, how he wanted to feel her.

"− uncle − we can't − we can't, we can't, we can't −" She cried out, against her words rolling her hips back and forth, falling and rising on his finger, making her moisture begin to leak onto his palm with a loud click.

"− we can − we will − we need to prepare you properly − shhh −" He gasped, soothing and hushing her like a small child. He stroked her hair with his free hand, hugging her to his chest, with the other fucking her eager cunt with his finger, rubbing his swollen manhood against her belly.

"− please − it's wrong − God, it's so wrong −" She pleaded, clasping her hands over his turtleneck, her blurry, pretty face red with exertion and desire, her sweet lips parted wide in lust while her eyes remained closed in euphoria.

We're going to fuck, he thought, sliding his finger out of her – he put his hand between their bodies, unzipping his trousers, sliding their material together with his boxers, releasing his long, throbbing erection, dripping with impatience.

"− shhh − I know, baby − I will take care of you − I got you −" He whispered, holding the base of his length with one hand, the other directing her weeping cunt at the pink head of it, opening her wide with a low groan of pleasure, throwing his head back.

She was so warm, enveloping his twitching, fat manhood wonderfully on all sides, his beautiful, beautiful niece.

"− please, Aemond, please −" She mewled into his mouth, spreading her thighs wide before him, letting him sink all the way into her flesh with one deep, slow thrust.

"− let me − I need you −" He mumbled, feeling like his cock was about to explode with arousal, imposing a fierce, violent pace on her at once, slamming into her with sure, greedy stabs of his hips, feeling like he'd lost his breath.

He concentrated only on that natural, primal reflex: thrusting, invading deep into her body, stretching her tight walls on the thick part of his erection, helping himself with his hands that held her plump buttocks in place.

His thrusts into her were more violent, deeper and faster than his slips out of her, slower and full of anticipation, and as his hips began their next movement, he sunk from the uncomfortable coldness of the room into the warm wetness of her spasming pussy again.

They both panted and moaned, trying to find a rhythm together, her hips bucking while her hands found a support on his chest, responding to each of his pushes, pounding into her throbbing cunt, clicking from her moisture, again and again.

"− I − ah − mghmmm − G-God −" She mumbled out, bursting out crying, simultaneously terrified and delighted at what they were doing exactly as he did, her buttocks slapping against his thighs, sinking him into her warmth, giving his cock a sure, thirsty squeezes.

"− thaaat's it − that's my girl − fuck, so good −" He breathed out, finding in his mind's eye that fucking her, being deep inside her, making love to her was a kind of breakthrough of sorts, taking at last what he had always wanted without regard for what he would feel tomorrow.

What he felt now was the only thing he wanted to feel for the rest of his life, and the thought of it made him feel a squeeze in his testicles indicating that he was close to reaching his peak.

He clamped his hands on her buttocks, spreading them apart with her moan of exertion, sinking into her as deeply as he could, thinking that he was about to come inside his own niece and it was going to feel so fucking good.

"− just a little more − please, just a little more − let me cum inside, baby −" He whispered tenderly, pressing her face against his neck as she whimpered loudly, calling his name, her body shook with an orgasm so strong that her pussy began to clench hard around his cock, making his warm semen simply spurt inside her.

"− God − oh my fucking God −" He muttered, closing his eyes, tilting his head back as his body shook with convulsions, experiencing the most powerful fulfilment of his entire life.

"− oh, baby −" He mumbled out, for a moment seeing only darkness in front of his eyes, completely besotted with pleasure, thrusting his hips into her for another moment with loud slaps of her moisture, feeling the remnants of his seed fill her womb.

Her womb.

Oh God.

What if she wasn't on the pill?

His drunken mind decided after a moment that it didn't matter in the slightest.

He was going to end it all, go study archaeology like she did, fuck her every day in his flat and have lots of kids with her.

Yes, he thought, feeling as calm as ever, recognising that this plan was perfect.

He hummed, pulling his leather jacket from under his back, covering their bare hips. He put his arms around her again, pressing his face against her temple, his lungs filled with the scent of vanilla, her sweat and her sweet wetness from which his thighs were all sticky.

The smell of what they'd done, how pleasant it was.

How right it was.

"− sleep − don't worry − I want this baby −" He mumbled and she just hugged him tighter, placing a soft, tender kiss on his neck, apparently not caring that his soft manhood was still gently throbbing deep inside her.

He sighed in relief, recognising that this was her answer, that she wanted to be his girlfriend again and have children with him in the future.

He closed his eyes and after a few minutes fell into a stony sleep, fulfilled and happy for the first time in eight years.

Throughout the night he could still feel the closeness of her body, her scent, her little hands embracing his waist. He pressed her face against his neck with one hand entwined in her hair, the other having slipped under her panties to feel her soft buttocks beneath his fingers, their legs entwined together on her cramped single bed.

It was so peaceful.

He woke up sensing that it was only dawn, not knowing for a moment where he was or what had happened.

The first thing he felt was her scent − he opened his eyes and then he saw it: his hand that was slipped under the material of her underwear, placed on her buttock, his unzipped trousers, her calm face pressed against his chest, sunk into a deep sleep, her hand lying on his heart.

They fucked.

He came inside her.

He had the best orgasm of his life with his own niece.

He swallowed hard, feeling that the remnants of the alcohol were still humming in his head, giving him a terrible migraine. He sighed, closing his eyes, resting his cheek against her hair, recognising that the fact that he felt no remorse after what had happened between them was evidence that he was completely out of his fucking mind.

He heard her murmur as she twisted in his embrace, snuggling her face into his neck. The knuckles of his free hand stroked her plump cheek as his lips kissed the top of her head, causing her to lift the gaze of her bright eyes to him.

They stared at each other for a moment in complete silence − her small fingers rose to his face, her thumb stroked his jaw, responding to his tender caress as he pressed his forehead against hers.

There was nothing they could say, he thought.

No words could describe what they felt, what they were experiencing deep inside themselves, what they wanted.

As she lifted herself on her arm, moving closer to his face, he reached out to touch her, and they soft mouth met in a warm, sticky, lazy kiss. Her moist lips pulled away from his with a quiet click only to cling to him again, again and again, their caresses slow, tender, full of understanding and a desire to comfort.

Their hands stroked each other's faces, her soft breasts hidden under the material of her Tshirt pressed against his chest, her scent filling his lungs completely.

He felt at peace.

He felt at home.

"I know it's wrong, but I don't regret this." She whispered between one soft kiss and the next, closing his lower lip between her mouth, sucking on it for a moment with his gasp of delight.

"Neither do I." He hummed, reciprocating by running the tip of his slick tongue over her palate, his fingers slipped under the material of her panties, digging into the smooth skin of her buttocks.

"Mmm." She purred into his mouth, enclosing his cheeks in her hands, laying on top of him, letting him use her body again to rub it against his throbbing, half-hard manhood.

"One more time?" He suggested, panting quietly, rolling his hips so that he was brushing against the space between her thighs, his hand from her buttock sliding lower again, checking her condition. He grinned under his breath as he felt her warm wetness under the tips of his fingers, sliding one of them slowly into her hot, throbbing flesh.

"− look at you − all sticky −" He gasped in delight between their one messy, loud kiss and another, their desire-swollen lips beginning to devour each other in the chaos of their tongues and teeth, her moans sweet and vulnerable, doomed to give him what he wanted.

"− you − you on top −" She mumbled, and he sighed, immediately turning her onto her back, slipping her panties off her hips in a nimble, quick motion.

He didn't want to take away her sense of security or expose her completely, so he decided not to undress her or himself, for now, just wanting to feel her again.

"− come here − just like that, spread 'em wide −" He praised her, releasing his swollen erection from his trousers, seeing how her thighs instantly opened out to the sides in front of him, showing him her glistening pink folds, from which his pearly semen leaked.

"− what a sight − I will make sure I've filled you properly −" He gasped, and she nodded, her hands clenched on the pillow on either side of her head, her mouth parted wide in a heavy, excited breath.

They both groaned pathetically as, with the help of his free hand, using the other to support his balance, he directed the fat, dripping head of his cock against her throbbing slit, pushing between her hot opening with a soft, slow thrust.

Her walls, hot and leaking with her moisture, made an involuntary resistance to the thickest part of his manhood − she whimpered quietly with effort, throwing her head back, spreading her thighs wider to make the task easier for herself and him, wanting to take it inside.

"− it hurts? −" He muttered, and she shook her head, clenching her eyes, struggling to fit what was just tearing into her body.

He leaned over her, as with a deep, lazy thrust of his hips he slid all the way into her with their sigh of exertion, feeling his erection pulsing all over, embarrassingly close to fulfillment now that he was sober.

"− I'm going to start moving now − okay? −" He asked, and she nodded quickly, raising her hands to his cheeks, pulling him close to her making, together with the movement of his hips, their lips join in a hot, tender kiss.

They panted into each other's throats, their foreheads pressed together as he imposed a sharp, slow pace on her, building the path to their fulfilment with each push, making sure he pounded into her at such an angle as to tease each time a little spot deep inside her, just above her entrance.

"− feels good? −" He exhaled, looking down at her, at her pretty, flushed face, at her hair scattered in disarray around her head, at her puffy, sweet lips parted in deep breaths, swollen from his caresses.

He wanted to make sure he wasn't hurting her, that she wasn't doing it out of fear but because she was just as desperate as he was.

"− yes − yes, Aemond, so, so good −" She mumbled sweetly, tilting her head back, letting him press his lips against her long neck, leaving hot, wet marks on her skin while her eager, slick cunt gave him a greedy, tender squeezes, sucking him deep inside her fleshy core. He moaned low feeling it, involuntarily speeding up, thrusting into her faster and faster with loud slaps of their hips.

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, her body rocked to the rhythm of his thrusts, coming out to meet him willingly, his swollen, throbbing cock all soaked in their shared wetness, making her little pussy click every time he opened her on the widest part of his manhood.

"− just like that − just a little more − your uncle is close −" He exhaled in delight, feeling the tension in his lower abdomen reach its zenith, his whole body tense, coming closer with each push of his hips to the fulfilment he so needed, the bed beneath them began to creak loudly.

His hands slid under her buttocks, clamping down on her warm, soft skin, squeezing them towards each other so that they pressed down on his quivering erection, making her almost painfully tight.

"− fuckkk −" He cursed, biting his lower lip to keep from making any loud noise, hearing her moans of pleasure, her body quivering in fulfillment as her wetness ran down from her pulsing folds onto the sheet beneath them.

He had to cover her mouth with his hand, hearing movement in the corridor around them, knowing that everyone was getting up to go to breakfast, but he only wanted one thing: to come deep inside her.

He sighed and groaned quietly, surprised how a strong shudder shook his body, his eyebrows arched in pain and pleasure as he felt his seed fill her again, again, again, again, making her his, only his.

"− you are my ruin −" He gasped, rolling his hips back and forth, sinking into her beloved, soaked cunt for a moment longer, feeling wonderful waves of hot fulfilment surge through his body.

He collapsed on top of her, panting heavily, together with her just lying there, trying to calm his breathing. He thought, cuddling his face into her welted, sweaty cheek, that being deep inside her felt somehow strangely natural.

Strangely right.

"Are you taking pills?" He asked finally, swallowing hard. He felt her body tense up, her fingers involuntarily clenching on the material of his black turtleneck.

"No."

He nodded, his thumb running over her cheek, wanting to let her feel that he had reckoned with that option when he did what he did.

Twice.

"It's your body. But know that I'd like to be the father of your child. Someday. You decide when. If ever." He whispered in her ear, placing a soft, moist kiss on her cheek.

He heard her swallow hard, clearly completely shocked by his words.

"I…I don't know what I'll do yet. I need to think about it." She finally muttered, obviously not knowing how else she could respond to his confession without offending him. He sighed quietly at her words, feeling a cold squeeze in his chest.

"Let me know when you've made your decision about...you know. Please."

"So that you won't answer me?" She asked in a trembling, breaking voice.

He raised himself on his arm, wanting to look at her face, but she turned her head in the opposite direction, her eyes glazed from tears, her quivering lips clenched into a thin line.

"I'll. I swear I'll. Hey. Hey, look at me." He whispered, cupping her cheeks between his fingers, gently turning her face towards him, tear after tear began to run down her cheeks as her eyebrows arched in pain.

She didn't believe him and he didn't blame her.

"I mean it. I swear. I…" He didn't finish as they both flinched when someone started pounding on her door with their fist.

"Open up." He heard Daemon's voice and immediately slid out of her, fastening his trousers in a hurry, terrified, her eyes big as she quickly grabbed the material of her panties and put them on her thighs.

"Wait a minute!" She called out, handing him his jacket and shoes.

"Hide in the toilet." She whispered to him and he nodded, immediately locking himself in the small room, trying not to make a sound.

Fuck.

After a moment, he heard her open the door, Daemon's voice loud and clear.

"Get changed, we're leaving immediately." He said.

"But why so sudden? I'd like to have breakfast. Has something happened?"

"Viserys is dead."

[handful0fteeth]

pull on your pout (just open your mouth)

stranger kinks 1: pegging

summary: eddie has some kinks he's never told anyone about, let alone explored, and you're more than happy to help him out.

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader (eddie munson x afab!reader if you squint)

warnings: smut, minors DNI, explicit language, lots of dirty talk, sub!eddie, dom!reader, rough sex, (mild) painplay, (slight) puppy play

words: 4.5k

The moment you laid eyes on Eddie Munson, you knew you had to make him scream.

He was so pretty, so cocksure as he floated through the crowd of the metal show you’d happened to meet at, and his easy smile ignited something within you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. A few people called out greetings as he strolled past them, and he’d return them in kind, either with a flourish of his hand or an exaggerated bow. He had a red cup he’d been sipping from when he sauntered up to where you were, leaned against a metal barricade just after the show ended, and the grin he flashed over the lip of it only confirmed your newfound desire.

“Mind if I bum one of those off you?” he asked, pointing a ringed finger at the cigarette that dangled from your mouth. You puffed once, twice, looking him over in thought before reaching into your skirt's waistband and pulling out your pack.

“Thanks, gorgeous,” he crooned. He plucked a cigarette out and tucked it between his lips, shifting his cup to his opposite hand so he could pat down his pockets, clearly in search of something. After a moment, you reached into your shirt and retrieved your lighter from its place inside your bra.

“Need a light?” you asked, flicking the wheel and illuminating Eddie’s face with firelight. His dark eyes, smeared in black kohl, glittered at you, and the way his smile stretched around the cigarette as he bent toward your flame made your stomach flip. He smelled of cheap weed and beer, sweat and cigarette smoke, cologne and earth - you had to physically restrain yourself from leaning down and taking an indulgent whiff of his hair only because you knew it’d make you look like an absolute lunatic.

“Much obliged,” he said, smoke curling from his full, pink lips. You watched them purse, and his cheeks hollowed as he sucked on his smoke, the end flaring cherry red, before he tipped his head back and exhaled audibly. When his eyes met yours again, you realized they sparkled all on their own without the assistance of a lighter.

“Wha’s your name?” His speech was just the slightest bit slurred, and you huffed out a laugh before angling your body toward him.

“Y/N. Yours?”

“Eddie Munson. ‘S a pleasure.” He draped one arm across his stomach while the other swept out dramatically behind him - unfortunately, it just so happened to be the arm that clutched his drink. As he bowed toward you, his hand accidentally tipped his cup just a little too far, and dark liquid began to pour out onto the asphalt freely. It splattered noisily for a few seconds before Eddie seemed to realize what he’d done, and he swore as he straightened up and snatched his arm back. 

“Fuck. Aw, well, ‘s for the best, I guess,” he reasoned, staring into the nearly empty cup as if it’d personally offended him. You surmised that, at this moment, it probably had. “Tastes like shit anyway.”

Even in his inebriated state, talking to him was easier than talking to most men - hell, it was easier than talking to most people in general. No awkward silences or lulls compelled you to drag on your cigarette just to give your mouth something to do - the words flowed out of you effortlessly, as if you’d known him for years. His laugh was like music, loud and sincere, bursting out of his mouth with abandon even when you didn’t think you’d said anything amusing. He kept edging closer and closer to you the entire conversation, and you let him, mainly because you wanted a closer look at his pretty face.

His hair, long and curly and matted to his forehead with sweat, coiled softly around his high, pale cheeks, and if you’d had enough alcohol in you, you would’ve reached up and pushed a lock behind his ear for him. He towered over you, which made the filthy thoughts swirling around in your head all the more thrilling. Something inside you, something mean and wicked, wanted to make this boy cry beneath you.

When Eddie stumbled into you, tripping over his own two feet, you asked if he needed a ride home. He shook his head but didn’t move to pull away from you. His hand was behind your body, curled onto the barricade for purchase, and you were so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his body as you tilted your head up to look into his eyes.

“Got a friend ‘m stayin’ with,” he murmured, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll be okay. You can gimme your number though if you wan’ me to call you when I get to where I’m goin’.”

It was so forward that had it come out of anyone else’s mouth, you would’ve snorted and left him cold. Eddie wasn’t anyone else, though.

“You got a pen?”

Shockingly, he did - he extracted a fat-tipped permanent marker from the pocket of his leather jacket. You kept it to yourself how funny it was that he didn’t have a lighter but was carrying around a huge marker.

Without missing a beat, you lifted a hand and tugged down the collar of his shirt, exposing the creamy flesh of his collarbone. The little whoosh of air that left his lips didn’t escape you as you touched the felt tip of the marker to his skin and slowly wrote down your phone number. Beneath it, you signed your name and punctuated it all with a small, black heart. Eddie stayed still as stone while you wrote on him. It was as if your audacity, the arrogance of marking his flesh, had shocked him into a state of placidity. 

When your eyes met again, there was a heat in his gaze that hadn’t been there moments before. You smirked, capped the marker, and slipped it back inside his jacket.

“Make sure you call,” you said, your voice low. “You wouldn’t wanna worry me, now would you?”

Eddie shook his head slowly, almost dazedly. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and flashed him a cloyingly sweet smile. 

“Good.” You raised one hand and rested it gently against his cheek, silently reveling in how tiny shivers rippled throughout his entire body at your touch, and patted him on the face condescendingly. You swore that, for a moment, right as you were pulling your hand away, you saw Eddie go to lean into your touch.

“I’ll be waiting.”

With that, you untucked yourself from against Eddie’s body and traipsed away.

He did, in fact, call you the very next morning and ask you on a proper date.

Whether or not that date ended up with Eddie fucking your brains out while you bent over the front seat of his van, scratching grooves into the cracked leather seats and practically drooling at the way his cock felt as it drilled inside you, was another matter entirely. (It did; you offered to help pay to fix the upholstery; Eddie refused, and the scratches still stare up at you knowingly every time you enter the van.)

That said, it didn’t take long at all to figure out that sometimes - a surprising number of “sometimes” - Eddie loved foisting control over to you just as much as he loved wrenching it away. He’d first admitted as much a few weeks after you started seeing each other. You’d been making out, ass planted firmly in his lap and hands plunged in his thick mass of hair when you gave a handful at the nape of his neck an experimental tug. Nothing too hard, just a test of the waters.

Eddie moaned.

He looked positively scandalized the second the sound had left his mouth, but you didn’t give him enough time to be embarrassed. Instead, you twisted your hand, yanking the curls in your fist until they were taut; Eddie’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, lids fluttering, and his jaw dropped wide open to loose another pathetic, delicious sound.

“That feel good, baby?” you asked. 

“Y-Yeah,” he whined. You slackened your grip just enough to let his head bob forward a bit and then snatched it straight back by tangling both hands in the hair on either side of his neck. He sat up straighter, his spine snapping into one long line as you gave him a wolfish grin. You only paused when you noticed the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“D’you need me to ease up?” You would have, of course, in a heartbeat - pain for pleasure’s sake was one thing, but it was another thing entirely to inflict pain just for the hell of it, especially when the person you were inflicting pain on couldn’t handle it. But Eddie just blinked at you, his brown eyes glossy and distant, almost as if he was starting to drift off somewhere, and smiled dreamily.

“No,” he said. “Pull harder.”

And so you did.

Later, when he was bucking into you from below, keening and whimpering like he was dying, scalp no doubt burning from the consistent abuse you’d demonstrated toward his hair, you leaned down into his ear and asked him if he liked when you hurt him like this. 

“Yes, fuck,” he gasped. “I love it, I love it, please, more, please.”

“You think I should do this more often? Hm?”

“Whenever you want, Jesus Christ.” His back arched beautifully as you dragged your long, sharp nails down his bare chest, staining his pale skin with angry red lines. He grabbed your hips and held you in place, fucking into you desperately, unable to contain himself.

“You like it when I mark you up?” you growled, determined to stay focused through the stars exploding behind your eyes and the pleasure burning its way through your body. “When I own you like this? You’re just a little painslut for me, aren’t you, baby?”

When Eddie came, and he came hard, he was sobbing, “Yes, yes, yes, own me, use me, fuck, hurt me, I’m yours.”

You made sure that afterward when you could extricate yourselves from his bed, you took great care in tenderly washing and kissing the marks you left on him in the shower. You also washed his hair for him, choosing to massage his stinging scalp for so long the water was cold by the time you both hopped out. 

You asked him later, while he was snuggled up behind you in his bed, arms wrapped possessively around your middle and nose buried in your wet hair, if he really, really liked everything you’d done.

“Most definitely,” he murmured, kissing your neck. 

“You made such pretty sounds,” you said, and Eddie squirmed. He could sing your praises all day, wax poetic about how beautiful and sexy and perfect he thought you were, but when you returned that sentiment in kind, he tended to shrink. You resolved to fix that habit at a later date.

“You never told me you liked all that,” you said, reaching back to rest a hand on his flank. “I woulda done it sooner.”

“You never asked,” Eddie said simply. “‘Sides, that stuff is tame compared to other shit I’m interested in.”

Oh? Eddie tensed as soon as it seemed to register what he’d said, but you couldn’t stop yourself. He piqued your curiosity; that wasn’t your fault, and besides - you needed to know what else could make Eddie Munson whine for you immediately.

“You don’t say? Pray tell, what would be that ‘other shit?’”

“Uh…sorry, can’t hear you, sleeping.” He crushed himself against your back and faked a loud, raucous snore right in your ear. You laughed, and to his credit, he did actually fall asleep rather quickly after that, but you both knew you weren’t going to let that go so easily.

It took a while, months, before you could chip away at the embarrassment barring you from all of Eddie’s desires. You never pushed, never wanted to make him feel like he had to tell you anything, just gently encouraged him by promising there was nothing he could say that would scare you off or gross you out. Mostly, Eddie just liked pain - receiving and giving. He made the sweetest sounds when you satiated the more masochistic side of him: slapping him squarely across the face, scoring marks into his smooth back and chest, winding his hair around your fist, and pulling. 

He liked it when you whispered filthy, degrading things into his ear, too, possibly even more than the pain. You discovered how deeply he appreciated being called a slut early on, but it wasn’t until one night when you were riding him into the mattress, that the phrase “good dog” tumbled past your lips without much thought. Eddie’s orgasm swept through him without warning, and you drank in the shocked, blissed-out expression that contorted his face while making a mental note of that particular kink.

His final confession came after the fog of intoxication had settled over the pair of you one day, beer and weed buzzing through your veins and making Eddie’s inhibitions low enough to admit that he’d always, secretly, been curious about what it’d feel like to get fucked in the ass.

“Oh?”

“I…yeah, I guess,” he said, throwing an arm over his eyes as he lay on his back. 

“How curious are we talkin’ here?”

“Like…I dunno…very?”

“Baby. Look at me.”

One of your favorite things about Eddie was how quickly he obeyed when you lowered your voice. It was like it didn’t even occur to him not to listen. He peeked at you from around his forearm.

“Do you want me to fuck you in the ass, puppy?”

The sweet, high noise that bubbled up his throat as he nodded stoked that need in your belly, which demanded you do everything in your power to bring Eddie to tears as he writhed underneath you. 

That conversation is how you got here tonight.

Eddie waits for you patiently on his bed, naked, rolled onto all fours with his head bowed low between his shoulders, the pale globes of his ass arched skyward. His dark curls pool around his face, so you can’t see it, but you watch his back rise and fall rapidly with his breathing, and the backs of his thighs are trembling with anticipation. 

Fenagling a strap-on is more challenging than you’d originally thought. Slotting the dildo into place was unexpectedly tricky - it’s one you purchased years ago, and admittedly, the pink, sparkling hunk of silicone looks a little silly nestled amongst the otherwise imposing black material. But when Eddie caught a glimpse of it coming out of your bag tonight, his eyes went wide as saucers, and it took a moment for his brain to stop short-circuiting enough to carry on a conversation with you. You told him to stay put while you fought with the smooth, cold leather around your hips, and he has, wanting so badly to be good for you. His cock hangs hard and flushed between his hips, twitching intermittently as precum beads from the tip and drools onto his bedsheets.

“Just a minute longer, puppy. Are you okay?” you call, and Eddie nods.

“‘M fine, angel.”

“Good. Why don’t you stroke your cock while I finish up here, hm?”

He obeys, slipping a hand down between his legs to grip the base of his cock. His body slumps slightly, and he turns his head out as it’s pressed into the sheets. Eddie mewls softly as you tighten the last strap against your thigh, and you steal a glance at him. His fist moves slowly over himself, stroking from base to tip and then back again in carefully measured pumps. 

He doesn’t notice when you sidle up behind him, totally unaware of your presence, until you drag your nails featherlight over the back of his legs. He shudders, gasping sharply through his teeth, and his hand stills on his cock.

“Will you hand me the lube, baby?”

Eddie releases his dick to pat a hand around the bed, and eventually, he presses the small, cylindrical bottle of lube into your palm. It’s half-empty, thoroughly used in the weeks leading up to tonight, and the plastic sticks to your skin a bit as you snap the cap open and drizzle lubricant onto your first two fingers.

He’s taken more than just two fingers, many times now - a few nights ago, you squeezed four inside his ass before he came all over his stomach. You’ve taken this entire process very slowly, partially because you’d hate to hurt the poor thing and ruin his fantasy before it even really had a chance to begin and partially because you just love how he cries when you tease him open nice and lazily. 

You lean over him, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades as you swipe a dollop of lube over his hole. He hisses, flinching away from your fingers a bit.

“Cold,” he complains, and you shush him gently.

“I know, baby. Just relax, you’re shakin’ like a leaf.”

“‘M excited,” Eddie mumbles, and you kiss his back again.

You swirl your fingers around his puckered hole, teasing the rim and nudging the tips just the slightest bit inside to coax the muscle into softening for you. Eddie sighs and shifts a bit so he can grab his cock again.

When you press your index finger inside him, up to the first knuckle, Eddie keens and drives his face into the bed. That just won’t do.

“Uh uh,” you admonish. Your free hand tangles in his hair at the root, and you yank his head back up, forcing him to steady himself on one elbow. He gasps, then whines, trying to cast a look over his shoulder at you. 

“You don’t hide from me,” you remind him. “‘Specially when it muffles those pretty noises. Understand?”

“Y-Yes. Sorry, angel,” he breathes, and the slick, hurried sounds below you alert you to how much faster he’s stroking his cock now. You probe your fingers inside him further, watching and waiting for any sign of distress or pain he doesn’t enjoy until you’ve sunk all the way to the top of your palm. After you’ve given him a moment to adjust, you pull out almost entirely and bend over him until your chest presses into his back. 

“D’you remember what you say if you can’t take it, puppy?” you whisper against the shell of his ear. He shivers and nods.

“Mmhm. Mercy,” he says. 

“Good boy, that’s right. Feel that?” You release your hold on his hair to fist the dildo in your hand and tap it against where your fingers stretch his hole. Eddie chokes on the breath he tries to suck in, and his hips stutter forward.

“This is goin’ in your ass tonight, baby. Do you think you can handle all that?”

“Fuck, yes, yes, I can,” he assures you. 

“Yeah? Gotta finger you open first. Make sure you’re ready. Although, I bet you’d love it if I just stuffed my cock inside you right now.” You never would, and you both know that; you mutually agreed that foregoing necessary prep work would end disastrously. But the way Eddie swears and clenches around the tips of your fingers is so fucking cute that, for a moment, you’re tempted.

You drive your fingers inside him again, pumping it in and out fast enough that Eddie doesn’t have a moment to catch his breath. He splutters pathetically below you, bucking into his hand while simultaneously trying to fuck himself back on your fingers, and you just let him - far be it from you to deny yourself the pleasure of watching Eddie Munson act like a complete slut.

A few minutes pass before you feel comfortable enough to add a third finger inside his ass, and this time you purposefully thrust them right against his prostate. His back curls like a cat’s before he allows himself to fall flat on his face. He’s a wonderful, obedient boy because he makes sure no sheets or pillows obstruct his pretty mouth, just as you asked.

“Fuck, that feels so fucking good, angel, Christ,” he moans, brows knitted together so tight he almost looks pained. “More, please, I want more. I can take it.”

“Aww, my puppy’s so excited,” you croon, and he nods fervently. You crook your fingers and settle them deep inside his ass, circling that sensitive bundle of nerves until he’s panting and thrusting sloppily into his fist. You could make him cum like this, you know you could, but where’s the fun in that? You want him to cum on your strap-on; you want him to experience spasming around something thick and hard and unrelenting, just as he’s fantasized about. 

He hiccups when you slot your pinky finger inside his ass alongside the three other slick digits. When you start pumping into him earnestly, spreading all four fingers inside the loosening ring of muscle, Eddie gives you what you’ve been craving since the moment you met.

Eddie cries.

Sobs wrack his lithe frame as you work him open, dribbling more lube onto his hole and pressing it inside. If you weren’t so turned on that your pussy was drooling down your thigh, you might’ve giggled at the obscene, wet sounds his ass made every time you stuffed him full again. 

“You’re doing such a good job taking it, puppy. My good little slut. That’s what you are, huh?”

“U-Uh-huh, shit.”

“I know, baby, I know. You’re so pathetic for me, crying on my fingers like this. You gonna cry on my cock, too?”

“If you - fucking hell - if you want me to, angel,” he offers, and you laugh, licking a stripe up the side of his neck. His skin is rich with the salt of his sweat, and you can’t help yourself. You force his head to one side with a hand in his hair and follow the trail you licked with your teeth, setting their edge against his soft, welcoming flesh until you bite. Eddie whimpers and trembles for you, so pretty, so perfect, and you bite him even harder. You want him to bruise; you want him to walk around Hawkins tomorrow with your mark proudly emblazoned on his pale throat. 

“I-I need, I need, angel, I n-need,” Eddie stammers, breath coming in shallow, short puffs around the fragments of his sentence. You detach your teeth from his neck and straighten back up.

“You need? What do you need?”

“You, I need you,” he weeps. “Need you inside me, please, please, I can’t take it anymore-”

“You’ll take whatever I decide you’ll take, puppy,” you say. When you pull all four fingers out of Eddie’s twitching hole, he cries out like he’s in pain, like you’re trying to kill him. You admire your handiwork, spreading his ass apart with both hands and watching his red, slick hole flutter as it attempts to remain open despite its newfound emptiness. 

“You’re so beautiful down here. All gaped open for me like a whore.” Eddie nods, though you aren’t sure if he actually registers anything you’re saying. He’s so blissed out already, so eager, you think he’d agree to whatever happened to fall out of your mouth right now.

“What color are you on, Eds?” you ask, and the way your voice swings upward into its usual cadence seems to snap him back to reality. He reaches for you, fingers outstretched until they manage to graze your thigh and squeezes it in reassurance.

“Green. I’m so fuckin’ green, baby.”

You smile. “Yeah? Havin’ fun?”

“Absolutely. I’m alright, angel, don’t worry.”

“Alright. Keep yourself spread for me, puppy. I wanna watch my cock disappear inside you.”

Eddie swears and complies instantly, releasing his slippery, dark red cock and placing both hands on either side of his ass. He pulls his cheeks apart dutifully, black nails digging into plush flesh, and even deepens the arch in his back for you as he settles into this new position. 

You slather an abundance of lube on your dildo, so much that it drips onto the sheets, and line the head up with Eddie’s hole. 

“Ready?”

“Mmm.”

“Take a deep breath, baby.”

The head pops in with little to no resistance, vanishing completely inside Eddie’s hole, and though you obviously can’t feel it, a moan tumbles out of your throat. It’s so fucking hot, seeing Eddie like this, knowing you’re the cause of it, and it takes quite a bit of self-control not just to feed him the rest of your cock right away and pound him into the mattress. He’d like it, too, the slut. But you refrain.

You drag in a breath through your teeth and press into him slowly, filling him bit by agonizing bit, and he voices his need loudly beneath you. One hand claws his mattress desperately, almost like he’s trying to crawl away, while the other jerks his swollen cock thoughtlessly, and it seems all he knows how to say right now is “please.” Please, please, please. After a while, when you’re more than halfway inside him, the word loses all meaning for you. You have to wonder if it even had meaning for Eddie in the first place or if it was just the only one his brain could conjure up to say.

“That’s it, baby, look at you,” you pant. Your hips are pressed flush to Eddie’s ass, the dildo buried inside him to the base. He writhes, gasping, sputtering, the picture of desperation. You want to keep him this way forever - speared on your dick, aching for it, needing you more than air, crying so prettily just for you. It’s selfish, but fuck, maybe you’re okay with that.

“Do you need a second, puppy?”

“No,” he wails, apparently offended by the question. He bucks against you so hard you almost lose your balance, and you steady yourself by laying your hands over where he’s still spreading himself. “God, fuck me, fuck me please, fuck my ass, angel, I’m going fucking crazy here.”

A wicked smirk curls across your lips. If that’s what he wants, who are you to deny him? That’d just be plain mean.

You yank him toward you, dragging him to the very edge of the bed, causing him to lose his balance - and his grip on his ass. Before he can collect himself, you gather his wrists into one hand and pin them to the small of his back. It looks a bit silly, you have to admit; his hands are so much bigger than yours, rough and callused from hours of guitar practice, and truthfully, if he wanted to break free of your grasp, he could do so with not even half the strength you’re currently exerting just to keep him somewhat contained. But that’s the beauty of Eddie’s submission - he doesn’t want to break free. He wants to be manhandled, thrown around like he’s so much smaller and weaker than he truly is; he wants to be used.

Most importantly, he wants you to use him.

It’s fucking intoxicating.

You twist a long, thick rope of his hair around your free hand and tug his head back, forcing his gaze skyward. You notice the shimmer of drool on the corner of his lips and chuckle.

“You wanna take it, then take it.”

You pull out, just until the very edge of the dildo is left inside Eddie’s quivering hole, and then slam back inside him again. He slackens against you, and you’re confident he would collapse if you weren’t forcing him up by the hair. You can see his lashes twitching, no doubt from his eyes rolling straight into the back of his head. Your name wrapped inside his wrecked, watery voice is all you need to keep thrusting.

You set a brutal pace almost immediately. Eddie’s bed squeaks and rattles from the force of it, lifting far enough off the ground that the frame starts to screech into the adjacent wall. The sound of Eddie’s strained, keening cries, punctuated by skin slapping viciously against skin, is like the sweetest harmony you’ve ever heard. You pull him toward you, forcing him almost back on his haunches and plaster sloppy, open-mouthed kisses across his back and shoulders.

“You’re doing so fucking good, puppy,” you grunt. “You’re taking it like a fuckin’ pro. So hard for me, too, I bet you’re just aching, huh?”

All Eddie can do is nod. You twist your hand, compelling him to turn his face toward you, and crane your neck to capture his lips in a kiss that’s mostly teeth and tongue. He whimpers into your mouth, allowing you to lick your way inside and swallow all the beautiful, agonized sounds he’s making just for you. You don’t have enough hands, you decide - you need more to scratch him with, to stroke his cock, to choke him and slap him and make him gag on your fingers. You need more of him; you need to take anything that he can give you all for yourself. It belongs to you, just as he does.

The possessiveness that burns through your belly spurs you on, and you growl filth huskily into his ear. “You’re mine, you understand that? Mine. No one else’s ever gonna make you feel this good, are they, puppy?”

“N-No, angel, jus’ you…yours, all yours,” he slurs. 

“That’s right. Your pretty little hole is mine, mine to fuck and fill as much as I want, isn’t it?”

“Fuck, uh huh, yes.”

“Next time, I’m gonna fuck you on your back. Have you spread your legs for me like a little whore. I wanna watch your face while I wreck you, watch how much of a cockslut you are-”

“Jesus Christ, God, angel, I-I’m cumming, I can’t st-ah!”

Eddie shudders and falls silent for a moment, just long enough for you to look around his shoulder and see how his cock pulses before the first rope of cum splatters onto the sheets below. Then, Eddie screams. It’s a sound torn straight from the depths of his soul, suffering and ecstasy all rolled into one perfect package. You keep fucking him through the shockwaves of his orgasm and watch the cum dribble down his throbbing cock, spilling onto the bed and dripping messily down his thighs. 

“That’s my good boy, you did so fuckin’ well for me, baby,” you coo. “You didn’t even have to touch yourself, I’m so proud of you, sweet thing.”

It takes a while for Eddie to come back down to Earth after that. He mumbles nonsense as you ease out of his ass and lower him onto the bed - in a dry, unsullied portion next to the wall - and doesn’t even notice when you leave for a moment to grab a wet, warm washcloth to clean him up with. He seems to snap out of his haze when you loosen the harness straps, and it falls to the ground with a thud.

He reaches for you wordlessly, long, thin fingers shaking as he clenches and unclenches them against his palm. Your heart swells and aches inside your chest as you clasp his hand and press a kiss to the back of it. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” you repeat. You gingerly brush a lock of hair out of Eddie’s face, revealing his flushed, tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips. He blinks wet lashes at you, brown eyes foggy and unfocused. His smile is sweet, shy even, and he tucks himself against you as you settle into bed.

“Wanna…do that again,” he rasps after you’ve wrapped him up in your arms. You chuckle and kiss the top of his head.

“We can do that whenever you’d like, sweet thing.”

He hums in approval. You lay like that for a while, bodies curled around each other, stroking Eddie’s cheek and occasionally pressing a kiss to his temple. You don’t realize you’ve nearly dozed off until Eddie calls your name, and you shake yourself awake.

“Hm?”

“D’you hear what I said?”

“No, puppy, I’m sorry. What was that?”

“I said my arm’s asleep.”

You snort, and so does Eddie as he rolls himself out from under you enough to free his tingling appendage. He drapes it around your shoulders, and this time, he drags you in against his chest. His hair tickles your cheek as he kisses the tip of your nose.

“Thank you,” he breathes. 

“My pleasure. Oh, and baby?”

“Hm?”

“Next time, you’re taking something bigger.”

The shiver slithering Eddie’s spine tells you all you need to know.

[gurugirl]

Just For Tonight | Ch. 1

Series Summary: Harry spots an angel in the crowd and he can't keep his eyes off of her. And, as if by some cosmic pull, he can't help but ask her backstage. But it's only going to be just for tonight. Or is it?

Chapter Summary: Y/n can't believe her luck when the famous Harry Styles invites her and her friend backstage after his concert is over.

Warning: 18+ only, smut

Word Count: 8646

Commissioned by anon (thank you!! xoxo)

Just For Tonight Masterlist

Almost 20,000 screaming fans, flashing and pulsing lights, percussion, string, vocals, bass, and ego with sex appeal dancing on the stage amongst it all. The entire floor of the venue, stage, walls, and all were vibrating and trembling along with the speakers that thundered with live music, and in the middle of it all the crowd danced and stomped along with the man of the hour. Harry Styles.

For Harry, tonight was a great night. When he performed it was usually pretty fucking great. But tonight, especially, everything was perfect. It was just one of those days that’s a good day for no real reason. The stars aligned, the moon’s gravitational pull balanced everything out, Mars was not in retrograde, and so on and so forth. Who knew what had made it such a lovely day? It just was and Harry was not one to question things like nature and science and destiny. He allowed it to bring him wherever it needed to take him. He was just a passenger on the ride of life.

And everyone in the building felt the same vibes. He just knew it. It had been a perfectly phenomenal day for everyone that he laid eyes on. How could it not? Every time he spotted someone in the crowd and smiled they screamed and jumped excitedly because they were also having a fucking fantastic day. So, okay, sure it might have had something to do with the fact that they were at a Harry Styles concert, and making eye contact with the one and only himself was bound to boost moods.

It was a thrill to wave or smile or call someone out and see their reaction. He loved the attention. Loved watching people swoon and cry out for him. He loved being loved and adored. And tonight, he was very much being adored.

When the song came to an end and the lights went down Harry picked up his Gibson guitar and stepped back up to the mic, signaling the song change. The light shined down over him as he stood gorgeously confident in his black custom Gucci suit sans shirt. His pecs and tattoos bared to the fans, a well-built body proudly on display. He had no reason to not show off. He knew he looked amazing. Not to mention it was also practical because his outfit and the hot lights were boiling.

He loved using old songs from his One Direction days and Stockholm Syndrome always got the crowd to go absolutely nuts. He stood bold and self-assured in front of the microphone as he strummed the guitar and started the song off. Looking at the fans in the center pit they went wild as his eyes roved the crowd, dimples carving into his cheeks at the reaction he got. He’d never get over it.

He began to sing and the sudden greatness of the situation was overwhelming. He knew the universe was giving him something very special at that instant as he strummed and leaned into the mic, belting the opening lines. He wanted to keep his awareness about him and not miss a moment. He was in his element.

And the reason he felt the atmosphere change, he was sure of it the second he laid eyes on her, was standing just right of center stage in the pit. An angel with long hair surrounded by a halo of glitter and the loveliest smile he’d seen in a long time. She wore a bodysuit with a flower pattern that hugged her curves with sparkles all over her skin and her shoulders, gleaming in her hair. Glossy pink and red sunglasses shaped like hearts on her face.

He couldn’t help but look at her as he sang and when he stepped away from the mic to let the fans scream the words he narrowed his eyes at the angel in front of the stage and gave her a quick wave, releasing one hand from his guitar to do so. Watching her pretty pink lips drop open wide when she understood he was waving at her she bounced a little and waved back. Harry’s eyes dragged down her frame again and he realized her tits were bouncing with her. He couldn’t help but notice it. They were supple and she was gorgeous. It was hard not to take her all in as she was.

She hadn’t realized it, until that instant, that he’d been looking at her. She figured that was impossible. There were so many other people next to her but the electricity that buzzed through her veins in that moment had her feeling like the only one in the audience. He continued looking at her through the song, his eyes finding hers as he sang and strummed. His smile deepened each time their gazes met and she felt like she was in a dream. Harry Styles was looking at her and grinning coyly each time his eyes landed on hers.

Y/n was an outspoken person. Someone who didn’t usually hold back with her thoughts and opinions. And even though having Harry looking at her and grinning was making the blood rush to her cheeks and her limbs tremble she knew she needed to call on her boldness to keep his attention. She had an idea before she’d even gotten to the concert that felt like something that would just stay an idea, would remain a little daydream fantasy. But now? She figured why not? She’d seen Harry prancing around at past concerts wearing sunglasses and hats the fans would toss up to him.

But she didn’t want to throw anything up on the stage at him for fear of hurting him or him not seeing it. She wanted to hand him the sunglasses. Maybe they’d even brush fingers. But with the way the stage was set up, she knew that was impossible. Security flanked the fronts and sides and she’d never be able to reach. Instead, she did the next best thing.

The next time Harry spotted her, which was only moments after she decided to enact her plan, she pulled her sunglasses off and pointed at him as she held them up. She was against the barricade near security and Harry’s eyes squinted as he looked at her hand and placed the mic onto the stand before kneeling down next to the man standing in front of the stage. He kept his eyes on the sparkly angel as he pointed at her and spoke to the man who nodded.

The transaction happened in a flash. The man smiled at her as she handed him the heart-shaped sunglasses and then suddenly Harry had them in hand and placed them on his face as he got right back to singing.

The crowd was raucous. Harry wearing cutesy, shiny heart sunglasses got everyone’s attention but Y/n was in awe that he was wearing her cheap dollar store find on his handsome face.

And when the song was over he pulled the sunglasses off and mouthed, “Can I keep these?”

Y/n nodded exaggeratedly and smiled as she bounced a little. It was the best night of her life; she was sure of it. The entire day had been amazing. From the moment she woke up to right then as she had Harry’s grin aimed at her it had been perfection. Even her outfit and hair were perfect. She knew it. It was just one of those days and she felt like it was all meant to be.

She danced and swayed to the songs, sang along with the crowd, and Harry kept giving her glances and cheeky smirks. He was definitely flirting with her.

“I can’t believe he’s keeping your sunglasses! What if he wears them after tonight and he’s photographed with them?” Y/n’s co-worker, Ady, was with her. She and Ady were loose friends. They got along well enough and both liked Harry Styles. So when Y/n scored two tickets and her best friend declined to go to the concert with her she asked Ady. She figured Ady would be willing given the colorful TPWK screensaver she had on her work computer.  

Harry began to interact with the signs in the crowd. Reading them aloud as he casually paced and laughed and made the fans laugh with him.

But as he walked toward the part of the stage where Y/n and Ady were standing Harry pointed directly at Y/n, “What’s your name?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to keep calm and Ady squealed next to her, “Her name is Y/n!”

Y/n turned to look at Ady and they laughed together but Harry continued, “Her name is what again?” He cupped his ear and leaned in to hear better.

This time Y/n was quick to react, “Y/n!!” She shouted as loudly and clearly as possible.

Harry stood up straight and laughed, “Y/n. Lovely. And your friend’s name?”

Ady shouted her name and Harry nodded, “Is it just the two of you?”

Y/n and Ady nodded with wide grins and Harry sauntered around in the spot as he motioned with his arms, “Y/n, here, gave me a pair of sunglasses and is allowing me to keep them,” he spoke to the fans and then looked back toward Y/n. “And I just wanted to say, thank you, Y/n. That was so thoughtful of you to give them to me.”

She placed her hand over her heart as she shouted, “You’re welcome!” And Harry placed his hand over his heart and winked.

An absolute dream. The whole night had been. The attention she was getting from Harry was something she’d never forget. She was positive that he found her attractive based on the way he kept looking toward her and grinning. It was one of those things that happen in life that make you spark and give you a giddiness that you’ll wake in the middle of the night thinking of or suddenly become overwhelmed with while you’re loading the dishwasher. Something that you take with you and sew into your bones and inwardly smile and gush over. Something that can’t ever be taken away. A small moment in time that’s yours to take with you forever.

Harry did his usual end-of-concert routine, including the whale before jogging off stage. The lights brightened slowly and the sounds of chatter and concertgoers laughing and singing filled the venue.

Y/n wasn’t ready to leave the magic of the concert but all good things must come to an end. As she and Ady were about to file out behind the other pit fans the security guard who handed her sunglasses off to Harry approached her, “You’re both invited backstage. Harry’s invitation.”

There was no way she’d ever get over that night.

The area was set up in two sections. A handful of fans and other people were all in one spot, a large room with foldout chairs and tables along the wall, and then there was another room opposite the large one, where Y/n and Ady were asked to stay. The room was small with a couch and coffee table, a few armchairs, a TV on the wall, and a buffet with pitchers of water and juices lined up with glasses and napkins at the end.

Y/n sat in one of the armchairs and Ady poured herself a glass of green juice, “Sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’ll get something in a minute. Just need a second to process everything. That was so amazing, wasn’t it?”

The pair talked about the concert as a man walked into the room and filled a glass with water for himself. He greeted Ady and then Y/n, “Hi. I’m Tommy.”

He sat down and made small talk for a bit, “So, this is the special guest room. Did you get a personal invite from Harry?” His grin was cheeky. Y/n didn’t know what any of that meant.

“Yeah, he invited us backstage after the concert was over. I gave him my sunglasses.”

Tommy nodded and raised his brows, “Ahh… I see. Well, he’ll be done out there soon.”

Soon was thirty minutes later. Tommy turned the TV on and handed the remote to Ady before he left the room. They got to meet Sarah and Pauli before they noticed some of the fans leaving and the other room slowly growing empty.

And when Harry finally walked into the room it was as if time stood still. That cliché was happening in real time. He wore a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt with tennis shoes, and a big smile as he looked at Y/n before greeting Ady with a handshake and a hug.

Y/n stood abruptly as Harry greeted her in the same way.

He sat on the couch and urged Y/n to sit next to him as Ady took the armchair closest and they all talked briefly about the concert. He asked more questions about how they knew one another and if they were from the area, what they did for a living…

He was perfectly polite and attentive. The man was gorgeous up close and Y/n tried not to let her imagination get away from her as he spoke and she watched his features and looked down over his tattooed arm and muscular thighs under his jeans.

Harry laughed at something Ady said and then ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Y/n, “I’m really glad you came. You have good taste in sunglasses. And music,” he chuckled at his joke and Y/n laughed with him.

“But um… would you be willing to stay back with me a bit? If you want?” He looked directly at Y/n as he asked but she didn't assume the question was only aimed at herself and of course, she was willing to stay back with him so she nodded and looked at Ady to make sure she was good with it too.

Just as Ady was about to say something Harry interrupted, “I’m really sorry. I can only have one person stay back per the rules, and since you,” he looked over at Y/n, “were so kind to allow me to keep your sunglasses, thought it would only be fair.”

The sudden realization changed the atmosphere in the room. He was asking Y/n to stay back. Only her. Not Ady.

“Oh, sure. Yeah of course. That’s fine,” Ady smiled and looked at her friend. “Y/n you stay. I’ll go back to the hotel and see you later then?”

It was awkward for sure. Y/n felt a little guilty for being so excited at the idea of being able to hang out with Harry one-on-one but at the same time, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Even if Ady had said she would rather Y/n go with her she would have stayed with Harry. She was not going to miss whatever it was he had planned.

She was led into another room. One with a door that Harry closed behind himself. He watched as she looked around. It was what looked like a dressing room.

“Would you like a drink? Or something to eat?” Harry asked as he walked up behind Y/n and honed in on what she was looking at. The rack of outfits. He always had five to choose from for each show. Usually, there was one that was suggested but Harry liked making the final decision. Which also meant each outfit would be tailored the same day as a show regardless if he wore them or not. Now, the tailoring wasn’t much. It wasn’t as if Harry’s weight and size fluctuated all that much from show to show. But lately, he was bulking up a bit. His trainer had him working out for hours each day. Harry’s body was in the best shape it’d ever been in. So some seams were let out and there were a few little tucks and folds and bits that needed to be sewn last minute typically.

“What do you have to drink?”

Harry turned and opened up the mini fridge as he squatted down, “Let’s see. Beer, wine, tequila, whisky. I can get you anything you want, though.”

Of course he could.

“Tequila on the rocks? Is that okay?” She was feeling a bit uncertain. She didn’t know what to expect or what was allowed. She wasn’t sure what was going on in general. Her nerves were starting to erupt a bit at the idea that he might have her in his dressing room alone for something more than just a chat.

“Sure. I’ll have one with you.”

They sat next to one another on the couch and made more small talk. She was surprised that he stayed a couple of feet from her the whole time as he sipped his glass and asked her about her job, her family, a dog she mentioned.

When she’d finished her tequila she tapped at the glass with her fingernails and looked at Harry curiously, “So, um… should I be going now? What’s the plan?”

Harry laughed and gulped down the last of his tequila before clearing his throat nervously, “If you want to go you can but um…” he licked his lips and sat the glass down on the table next to his side and planted his green gaze on her pretty eyes, “I’m going to head to my suite in a bit. It’s really nice and big. Would you want to go back there with me?”

Y/n grinned and squinted her eyes at him, “What for? Are you planning on making a move on me or something?”

Harry sputtered out a laugh and his adorable dimples dug into his face. He hadn’t expected her to say it right then but he could tell she was a bold person. Knew from the start, when she got his attention with her sunglasses that she wasn’t shy and wouldn’t need lots of guidance. Which he preferred. Timid women were nice and all but Harry didn’t like to be the one to make the first move in most cases. He felt that wasn’t fair. He was famous and handsome and it was unlikely a girl would turn him down so he liked it when he was pursued a little. He liked it when the other person made the suggestions and led the way a bit. Felt more authentic that way.

“Do you want me to make a move?”

Y/n sighed and grinned back at him, “You’re not answering my question,” she turned to face him, the glitter on her arms rubbing off onto the couch. “Is that what this is? Because so far you’ve just made a bunch of small talk and you’ve listened to me ramble on about my boring job.”

Harry nodded. Fair enough.

“Okay. Yes. I wanted to make a move. But I feel like doing that in my suite gives us more privacy rather than here. It’s up to you, though.”

“There it is. So this was just a way for you to get me to come back to your room with you.” She smiled as she teased.

Harry laughed a breath out of his nose and nodded, “Yes, Y/n. I hoped you’d come back to my room with me. Will you?”

“Can I kiss you first and then make that decision? I need to know what I’m getting myself into before you get me all alone in your suite.”

Harry gulped and felt his chest get warm. Yes, she was perfectly bold. Exactly what he hoped.

He nodded, “Okay.” He scooted himself toward her body and she moved her hands up to his shoulders and laughed quietly at the absurdity.

Harry smiled and just before he could laugh with her he felt her soft, glossy lips on his and he melted. Her lips were warm and tasted like strawberries from the lip gloss she was wearing and her body was suddenly pressed into his.

When she licked over his lips Harry groaned as he opened his mouth to let his tongue slide out against hers. It all happened so fast and his head was spinning.

She determined she liked, no loved, the way he kissed. A little messy and wet. Plenty of tongue and small moans fell from his lungs. His lips were puffy and soft and she’d never imagined in her life that she’d get to feel his lips on hers but here they were licking and sucking and making out on a couch in his dressing room after his concert.

When she parted they both gasped and their expressions mirrored each other. Blown-out pupils, drooped lids, pink, wet lips, and harsh breaths inhaled into their chests.

“Yes. I’ll go with you to your room.”

They couldn’t go together. Out of necessity. She was taken in a separate car to his hotel and then ushered to the penthouse suite he was staying in.

And she understood the hullabaloo. She knew it was necessary. Not only had she been a fan of his since his One Direction days, and had seen how his fans were crazy, but she also got to see it with her own eyes all the young girls outside of the hotel waiting for him to appear.

His suite was just as posh as she thought it would be. Tall windows overlooked the city lights. The room she entered had tall ceilings, a piano along the wall, flowers on an elegant table, wainscoting wrapped the walls from edge to edge, large wooden doors with intricate carvings, a huge leather couch, and two wool woven armchairs on either side with a low-profile wooden coffee table in the center that looked antique. A huge flatscreen TV across from the couch, a chandelier above, expensive artwork adorned the walls, and a fireplace on the other side with another sitting area and plush pillows piled over the chairs.

Not wanting to wait another second to feel her lips on his, Harry pulled her into his arms and they continued right where they’d left off.

Wet lips and tongues gliding together slowly until Y/n pulled his elbow, “Let’s sit down.”

Harry followed her to the loveseat that faced the fireplace and gestured for him to sit as if it were her room. He nodded and sat, keeping his legs spread apart as he watched the pretty girl climb over him and straddle his lap.

The moment she sat down she felt him under her. He was rock-hard.

“You poor thing. Do you need help, Harry?” She looked at him innocently as he parted his pink lips and nodded.

“Yeah? What do you need then?” She dipped in to kiss him again as she rocked herself over him and he groaned at her moxy. She was quite confident. Harry was already in love.

“Anything. Whatever you want.”

She kissed down over his jaw slowly and heard his chest vibrate as she got lower. What did she want? Well, she wanted to look at him. Wanted to perceive his body up close without any clothes. Wanted to touch his skin and see his tattoos and kiss his pecs and his abs. She wanted to see him.

“Let’s get your clothes off. I want to see you, Harry.”

He was not shy about his body. He’d never been. He had absolutely no problem whatsoever hanging out naked in front of friends or wearing only briefs in front of his family. Though some would urge him to put clothes on, Harry didn’t care if anyone saw his schlong or his balls (well maybe he didn’t want his mom and his sister to see all that).

So when he began to take his clothes off and kept his eyes on hers she watched as he exposed skin little by little. His chest came into view. The laurels, the butterfly, the swallows… He was a god.

But then, when he stood to remove his pants she got to her knees and stuck her fingers into the band of his Calvin Klein underwear, and looked up at him, “Can I take these off of you?”

“Please.”

She smiled at the please. She was tempted to run her palm over the large bulge under the fabric of his briefs first but she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to see him. The moment she pulled the stretchy material down and his cock plopped outward toward her face she moaned as she looked at it closely. Continuing to pull his briefs down his legs, she kept her eyes on his hardened organ. It looked heavy.

“Harry…” she breathed out a moan and looked up at him in all his naked glory. It was even better than she imagined. “Fuck.”

Running her hands up his thighs she focused on the tiger tattoo and delicately kissed over the ink. The solid tissue under his skin was taut. He was strong. His thighs were thick with muscles. Good for a nice hard fuck with lots of stamina, she imagined.

“Can I touch your pretty cock, Harry?” She asked him as she looked up from her spot on her knees. Y/n was still fully dressed but she needed to worship his body for a bit first. It was very important. His build was perfection and he deserved the praise and attention for it.

“Yes, please.” He nodded.

She grinned and tilted her head, “I love it when you say please.”

She turned her focus to the thickened cock before her. He was so hard the foreskin was effectively pulled back revealing his engorged, pink tip. Smooth and pretty. She flattened her palms along either side of his dick over his trimmed pubes and let her fingertips reach up to the laurels at his hips before she grazed her thumb along his shaft.

Harry gasped as he watched her touch him and inspect him. He loved her attention.

“You’re so warm,” she cupped her palm under his shaft and lifted upward. “It’s heavy.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips over the laurels on his hips and sighed as his cock nudged against her chest. The man was incredible. A work of art. She smoothed her palms upward to his stomach and over his abs, tight and well-muscled. Masculine. Pretty.

Y/n had always appreciated how attractive and fit Harry was from afar. Making up scenarios in her head that allowed her to touch him and lick him and do ungodly things to him. Imagining he’d pluck her from the crowd and invite her backstage and then bring her back to his room and fuck her brains out. And she felt like her fantasy was now becoming a reality.

“I’ve always wanted to touch you and see you up close. You’re so sexy, Harry,” she purred as she brushed her hands down to his sides and around his low back as she looked up at him standing over her, “Can I put it in my mouth?” She directed her eyes to his cock and then back up to him.

“If you want. Is it easier if-“

“Just like this. Just need you in my mouth,” she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and lifted him upward, and licked the underside of his cock all the way to the tip. He tasted clean. She could tell he’d showered after the show. He smelled good and he looked even better.

Harry wasn’t sure what to do with his hands but he settled on putting his fingers at the back of her head gently. Not to push her or force her down but just to feel her in his hands and to touch what he could reach.

Kissing the ridge of his frenulum she kept her eyes upward on his as she widened her mouth and put her tongue out before gently wrapping her lips around his smooth tip. Harry’s mouth dropped open as he watched her take him.

She licked and sucked the tip as she slowly stroked him at his base. Pulling back she smiled up at him, “You’re so long. I don’t think I can take you all the way. I’m gonna do my best to make it feel so good for you.” With that, she put his tip back into her mouth and got to work.

Harry groaned and let out the smallest whine, “S’okay. You’re perfect. Just like that, angel.”

She smiled around him and moaned softly at the little nickname. Angel. She figured that was cute.

With her free hand, she brushed her fingers over his thigh and the fine hairs over his skin. There wasn’t any single part of him that wasn’t gorgeous.

Bobbing her head and getting into a good rhythm she found that she could take him a little more. He was still quite thick, though, and it proved difficult.

“You don’t have to… fuck, fuck!” Harry moaned. She felt so good around him doing it just like she was. If she couldn’t deep-throat him he’d still be the happiest man on the planet at that moment. “Don’t have to go so deep. I wanna taste too…” he panted his words.

She pulled back when she tasted his precome and kissed her lips down his shaft to his pubes, seeing flecks of her glitter in the thatch of hair that surrounded his thick base, and then looked up at him before shifting to stand up. She dipped in to kiss his butterfly tattoo, gently poking her tongue out as she went and then upward to his pecs. Using her tongue she lapped at the muscle and wet his nipple before kissing all around, feeling his hair tickle her lips as she let her mouth drag over his skin. She traveled to the other side, her hands on his ribs, kissing and licking at his pectoral.

She sucked his nipple into her mouth and moaned when he gasped in response. Up she ventured to his swallows just under his clavicle, kissing the ink over his bone and skin and then his neck again.

“You’re gonna make me come just like this. Holy shit.” Harry was so hard it hurt and her lips on his skin felt like magic. “Please. Let me lick you too. Take this off.” He pleaded as he plucked at the fabric of her bodysuit.

Y/n stood back and began to unzip the back as she watched Harry. The girl was gorgeous already. Her hair with glitter and soft lips, round doe eyes… but when her tits softly bounced from the fabric she had them trapped under he nearly fell to his knees.

Her nipples were already tight and hard and the flesh that surrounded them was indulgent. Plump. He watched as she pulled the material down her body until she was nude. She’d had nothing on under her bodysuit.

Harry reached to cup her breasts and the moment his palms found her delicate skin and felt her nipples pressing into his hand he leaned down and wrapped his lips around her nipple.

Harry Styles pink lips were sucking on her nipple. The Harry Styles (she repeated in her mind). She didn’t know what sort of good thing she’d done in life to deserve having this happen but she would not question it. She stuffed her fingers into his soft curls and cooed at him, “Feels so good, Harry. I love having your mouth on my skin like this.”

Harry squeezed and kneaded and licked and sucked. He peppered kisses over every inch of her breasts until Y/n was keening and her fingers were tight in his hair.

He pressed his lips to hers and pulled her toward the big bed, her back hitting the mattress solidly before he climbed between her legs and moaned at the state she was in, “Just need a taste. Is that okay?” He looked up at her, his hands smoothing from the inner bend of her knee up toward the top of her inner thigh, inches from her pussy.

“Yes. Of course, it is.” She was going to say more but the words caught in her throat as she watched him go in tongue first. Her cushiony crease was damp and tasty.

Pushing her deeper into the bed, he kept himself between her thighs before putting his arms under her hip and pushing his shoulders against the back of her thighs to keep her spread and open for him.

He began to lick and lap as he watched her eyes. The scruff on his face brushed at her soft skin and her pussy lips felt it too. But she was not going to stop him. She hoped she had scruff burn, or whatever the equivalent of a carpet burn from being eaten out by a man with an overgrown trim on his face was called.

Soft and wet and cushy. Harry was gentle with his licks and kisses. He was wetting his lips and tasting her arousal, swallowing it down, and digging in a little deeper when she started to pant and swivel her hips.

Suddenly the quick flicking of his tongue on her clit caught her off guard from the subdued licking and kissing he’d issued her at first. She moaned as she watched his pink tongue ravage her button. He was pushing into it, flicking it, pressing it down, lifting it up, and then… then he looked into her eyes as he wrapped his lips around her clit and pulled it into his mouth. Slurping noises took over the easy slushy sound of his tongue licking through her folds.

“Harry!” She craned her neck to see what sorcery he was performing, “You’re so good. Right there… yes!”

He had a few go-to cunnilingus moves. This one always seemed to get the biggest reaction the fastest. It also brought women to orgasm in record time. It took some practice but he’d suck the clit and continue flicking his tongue while applying pressure with his mouth over the pelvis.

And the way she was squirming indicated she was enjoying it very much.

He released her clit and then went back to slow licks and kisses up her crease. He stopped at her entrance and lapped at the slick spot for a moment before sticking his tongue inside as far as it would reach. Nuzzling in as close as he could get, he poked his tongue in and out and nudged his nose to her clit, rubbing back and forth.

“Fuck! Yes… Oh my god!”

Harry gently rocked his hips down into the mattress. His cock was throbbing. But he wanted her to come.

Y/n saw his motion and could tell he must be aching. And as much as she’d have loved to let him take his time and eat her out it could take awhile to get her to come from that alone. But she knew one thing that would satisfy her like nothing else.

“H…Harry?” She panted her words as he continued working at her pussy with his mouth.

He lifted his face, “What is it?”

“Would you… Do you want to have sex?” She wasn’t sure if that was where this was headed. Oral sex was great of course. But she’d seen his cock and his body was strong and lithe and she knew he’d be good at fucking. It was all she could think of. Having him inside of her, splitting her open, moving into her repeatedly…

Harry sat up, his chest red and his cock even redder, “Sure. I mean… I’d love that. But this,” he gestured toward her and then himself before putting his palm back on her inner thigh, “is only just for tonight. I just want to make that clear. I’m still on tour and… well you know.” His breaths were deep and ragged.

He hated to give the spiel right then, but it hadn’t come up and if there was one thing he learned in all of his years of having casual sex, it was to be upfront even if it put a slight damper on the mood. It was better than waiting until afterward.

She nodded and grinned, “Well yeah. I didn’t think you’d propose to me or anything. I know what this is. Just for tonight.”

Harry and Y/n positioned themselves on the bed into the pillows and Harry reached over to grab a condom but Y/n took it from him before he could open the wrapper, “Let me put it on you, big guy.”

Harry clenched his jaw and watched the pretty girl tear the wrapper and then straddle his thighs as she held his thick shaft in her palm so she could position the condom over his head before slowly rolling it down over his shaft, “Mmm… It’s tight on you. You’re so big, Harry.”

His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Harry was a big fan of having his ego stroked. Loved being complimented. Praised. Loved when his cock was fawned over.

When the condom was on, Harry grabbed her hips as she climbed over him, lowering her pussy against his condom-covered cock and slipping up and down his shaft to wet the condom.

Glitter was everywhere. On his torso, on her tits, his shoulders, her thighs. She was too far gone to worry about what that could mean for later. She just wanted to feel him inside of her. She ached to have him inside of her.

Their mouths met again as they moved slowly together. Y/n could feel Harry’s tight grip on her thigh and then as he moved one hand to cup her ass, he squeezed and bucked up gently.

She couldn’t wait to get him inside of her so she lifted herself to her knees and placed her hands on his shoulders, “Can I fuck myself on your pretty cock now? You ready to feel me?”

Harry moaned, “God yes.”

Harry was in awe of how she was speaking to him. Not shy and not over the top with how she was taking the lead either. She still allowed him to do things he wanted, but she took initiative and it was one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced.

She grasped the base of his cock and looked down to where they were pressed together as she placed him at her entrance. Harry’s rigid cock was thick and she felt how tight the fit was the moment she slid down over his crown.

Harry groaned and moved both of his hands to her tits and squeezed as she took her time sitting over him.

“You’re so hard, Harry. So thick. Do you feel that?”

Harry’s head was spinning. Y/n was exactly what he needed for the night. The perfect combination of sexy and bold. An angel who knew what she wanted and took it. “Yes, angel… god… gonna dream of this forever,” he looked into her eyes once she was finally seated over him, his dick pressed into her so deep she was sure there had never been anyone that had reached that far into her before.

She knew this was just for the night. Understood Harry’s reasoning and figured that’s what this was going into it. But this was something she’d never forget. She’d always look back on this fondly. And even though he was looking at her in such a way that felt far more intimate than it should, she wouldn’t allow herself to wonder what it would be like to see him again. Because that was definitely not going to happen.

When she began to glide up and down shallowly they both panted in shaky breaths. Harry was glad the condom was giving him the slightest barrier so he didn’t come immediately. Because her tits and her skin, the soft specs of glitter, her lips, and tight pussy were begging for his orgasm. Begging for his come. Everything about her was sex. A gift in the form of a glittery angel that was coaxing and urging an orgasm from him.

“You’re gonna make me come so hard. Fucking perfect,” Harry whispered as she slowly ground over him and pressed her clit into his pelvis.

She nodded and smoothed her hands up, one at the side of his neck, the other on his jaw, “Yeah? My pussy feels so good, doesn’t it? Nice and tight around you. I just know I’m gripping the fuck out of your big cock.”

She moved slowly over him. Gently riding herself on his dick and keeping her clit stimulated as they kept their eyes on one another.

Finally, she leaned in and pressed her lips on his neck and squeezed at the opposite side of his throat as she nipped his skin and drew her mouth upward to his jaw, “God it feels so good, Harry.”

It did feel good. The best maybe. She loved that she got to be in control a little. Loved how he was letting her take the reigns. But she did want him to fuck the life out of her. Put his strong muscles to work. To make a loud chorus of sex sounds and moans bouncing off the walls of the suite.

Stopping her gentle rocking and grinding she licked into his mouth slowly before pulling away, “I need you to fuck me so hard that I feel it for days. Okay? Since this is all we get, want to take you with me through the week.”

Harry let out a whimpered laugh as she removed herself from his lap. Harry followed her and climbed over her as she laid herself down on her back.

He would give her exactly what she wanted. Harry could fuck. That was for certain. He didn’t work out as hard as he did for no reason. And he was attentive so he knew he could at least make it fun. He hoped to give her an orgasm and that was the goal. But if she wanted it hard, wanted to feel him for days, he’d make sure of that.

He pushed himself between her thighs and pulled her hips toward him, elevating her bum off the mattress the slightest as he placed his fingers on her clit, “I’ll fuck you hard, angel. But you tell me if you need anything or you need me to stop. Okay?”

Y/n nodded and grinned at him, “Give it to me, Harry,” she moaned and rolled her hips upward, pressing her clit into his hand. Her thighs were angled upward with her feet flat on the mattress, her bottom resting between Harry’s thighs as he sat back on his haunches. This position would give him plenty of leverage to fuck into her hard and deep using his strong thighs.

Harry’s whole shaft was already coated in her as he lined himself up with her pussy. Removing his fingers from her clit he leaned forward and gave her tits an obligatory squeeze before he pushed his tip in, feeling the tight snap of her muscle expanding and receiving him.

They moaned in unison at the feel of him entering her slowly. He pressed in and slicked himself back out to the tip, watching the way she stretched around him, perfectly wet and aroused for him. And the next plunge he took wasn’t slow at all. She gasped as he slammed himself in to the hilt and held onto her hips, knocking her upward and making her tits bounce.

His pace was relentless and she knew it would be. He was strong and full of stamina. Each thrust and prod into her guts felt deeper and deeper and sharper and achier. She loved it.

She could barely get a single moan out with the way he was punching himself into her.

And just like she wanted, the sounds of sex surrounded them. Skin thudding together wetly, the smallest squeak of the bed rocked in time with his harsh thrust as he hammered into her, and their deep breaths and moans.

The view of her pussylips gripping him on each stroke was phenomenal. The smells, the sounds… The way her tits bounced and her mouth was dropped open. He knew at the very least she was enjoying it.

She moved her hand down her torso and to her clit while the other hand grasped onto one of Harry’s forearms where he kept a tight grasp on her hip.

Soaked. She was absolutely drenched. Her fingers slid over her throbbing button back and forth as Harry thrusted himself in and out deeper and deeper.

“This what you wanted, angel?” Harry asked the pretty girl who was quite clearly fucked out and flopping upward every time he plunged in balls deep.

Her tongue slid over her wet lips, “Oh! Fuck, Harry!” She gasped loudly.

Coming to a halt, he buried himself in until his balls were pressed into her bottom and he undulated his hips to punctuate just how deliciously deep he was inside of her.

She sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his cock grinding into her, [TK1] “You’re fucking me so good right now,” her chest was rising and falling and Harry couldn’t help when he brought a hand up to her breasts to fondle and press over her nipples, thumbs gliding over the supple skin. She sucked in a sharp breath and stretched her neck, keeping her eyes on his, “But you can always go harder.”

Harry blinked and coughed out a laugh, “Really? You want harder? Can I spank you?”

Y/n nodded quickly, “Fuck yes.”

And that was that. Harry loved a good spanking (whether giving or receiving if he were honest). He pulled out from her sweet pussy and lowered himself over her to kiss her mouth quickly.

But the moment he pulled away she was sitting up and turning herself around to give him access to her ass. On her hands and knees, she looked at him from over her shoulder and noted the way he was taking her all in.

He whined and grabbed onto the globes of her bum and smushed the flesh in his hands. Smoothing his palms over the expanse of her backside he brought them down to the backs of her thighs and then back up, letting his thumbs drag inward and through her wet pussy crease before finally issuing the first harsh strike.

She jumped at the sudden impact but when his palm came down on the other side she melted into the way his big hands felt on her. The sting and the leftover burn. Repeated smacks on either side were interrupted when he slammed his cock into her.

“Fuck I need to be inside of this pretty pussy.” He continued smacking her bum as he drove into her with long and hard strokes, bucking into her with meaningful thumps.

Y/n grasped the blankets under her and kept herself steady but by the time he was finished bruising her backside, his hips began to rock into her at a jarring pace once again. She slowly began to slip forward from his force.

With the front of Harry’s thighs pressed into the back of hers he put an arm under her middle to keep her from slipping too far down. His other hand moved from her hip down to her bum and pulled at the cheek as he rutted into her, a steady clatter of bodies knocking together.

Y/n reached down to rub her clit again, pushing Harry’s arm out of her way. He breathed out a laugh but moved his arm, bringing his other hand to the other side of her bottom, pulling both cheeks apart so he could watch himself sink into her over and over again. Small bits of her white cream were smearing over his condom and he imagined what it might look like to fill her up with his come and fuck himself into her, pushing his own orgasm deep into her insides.

“Harry!” She managed to cry out. It was difficult to speak at all but she was so close and the way he was rocking his hips into her in heavy plunges was perfection.

“I know, angel! You gonna come?” Harry’s words were strained. He was holding out for her to come first. Wanted to feel the squeeze and the throb of her pussy around him.

“Yes! Keep going!”

Harry could feel her fingers brushing against his balls as she rubbed her clit rapidly.

“M’gonna come… please, Y/n! Come for me angel!” He was trying his very best to stave off his orgasm but the view of her taking him and the sounds of him wetly plunging into her were sending him over the edge.

Suddenly Y/n removed her fingers from her clit and brought her hand behind her to grab Harry’s and pulled it forward, placing his palm over the front of her neck, “Choke me.”

Harry groaned as he put one palm flat onto the mattress next to her and used his other hand to squeeze at the sides of her neck. His strokes became slower, his hips pasted to her, pushing inward deep and heavy and sticky.

She sucked in one desperate gasp before his grip tightened just enough that she began to feel that sparkly, wooly stupor she loved with being gently choked. She reached for her clit and all she could focus on were the sounds of Harry grunting and moaning softly into her ear and the feel of his cock lodged deep into her guts. He wasn’t pulling back, only fucking himself forward, deeper and deeper as she submitted to her orgasm.

Harry could hear her wet gurgle and feel the way she vibrated under his body as he rocked into her and then the pulse of her soft walls, wrapped around his cock, gripping him tight as she fell into the realm of stupor and ecstasy.

He let go of her neck and straightened himself out, putting his hands onto her bottom and spreading her as he began to pound into her, long, smooth strokes of his cock nudging into her insides, stretching and splitting her as she came with shaky thighs.

“Fffucckk!” He threw his head back, the image of her swollen, wet, fucked out pussy seared in his brain as he began to come into his condom, filling it up with warm liquid. He groaned loudly into the suite as his balls were being properly drained, wishing, imagining he was giving her his come, coating her insides with him where her body would receive, swallow it, and use it accordingly.

“Oh my god, Harry!” Y/n gasped. He had nudged himself in as deep as he possibly could and the throb of his heavy cock in her felt like decadence. She couldn’t wait to check out the marks his fingers left behind the following day. The little secret only she’d know.

They collapsed together into the bed, Harry pulling out and carefully taking his condom off, discarding it on the floor without much care.

“You’re gonna stay here with me tonight?”

She let her fingers slowly work their way up his abs and over the butterfly, “If you want me to. I don’t mind leaving.”

She didn’t want to leave and Harry didn’t want her to either.

“I want you to stay. I’ve got a wake up at 9 am for a training session so, we can get you a taxi to your hotel or wherever you need then,” he sighed and dug an arm under her shoulder, dragging her toward himself.

Closing her eyes and smiling into his shoulder she nodded, “That sounds great.”

It was a shame this was all only for the night. He’d been an excellent lover, but it was fair of course. He was a busy, famous, pop star. She couldn’t blame him for setting that boundary. She was glad she even had the chance with him at all.  This would definitely be something she’d never forget.

Feedback/Thoughts | Support Me! | Main Masterlist

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @daphnesutton @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @lhharrylilpumpkin @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @harrys-foxy @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10

[daughterofyore]

George and the Pond.

King George x f!reader

[[Queen Charlotte (Netflix)]]

category; heavy smut, fluff, angst (lil bit)

wc; 2,249

music inspired;- apocalypse

a/n:: George has a manic episode by the pond, you manage to calm him and he’s so thankful for you he fucks you to show it :)

TW!: NSFW, George porphyria episode (Venus), heavy smut, breeding kink, Good ol fast sex

Venus begged George to find her. She pleaded with him to search, to save her. She was his one true love. She needed him! He ran through the palace grounds, in the distance behind him there was a cacophony of shouts, someone begging for him to turn around. It was Venus’ ex lovers, surely. They didn’t understand the love they shared, the adoration of their coupling. Her beautiful, pale skin and blemished face. Glowing like a fading star against the ebony blanket of the night sky. An infinite amount of white blazing stars surrounding her like a halo in all her glory. Oh, how he longed to be by her side. How he dared to get closer to her. He needed to feel her glow upon his skin, so without a moments hesitation he ripped his clothes from his skin. Silk pyjamas made of the finest lapis lazuli blue discarded into the mud of the pond. He raised his arms to her, crying for her to join him on this mortal plane. For the goddess of love to bless him with her prowess. He could feel her compassionate deposition seep into his very pores, touching his bare, sculpted body. Casting shadows along the dips and ridges of his muscles.

“George!” You cried out to him, watching as he bared his body to the entire garden. Reynolds raced ahead of you, reaching before you could. You were still adorned in your glittering evening gown. Made of a deep fiery scarlet, as if it was made of the last embers of a great fire. Silver lining cascaded down its centre and bodice, elaborate lace adorning the contrasting peachy cream underskirt. It flew around you as you gathered the skirt into your arms, heels clicking off the cobbles and then sinking into the finely kept lawns. You stumbled and struggled to reach your husband, you could see his eyes glistening as he stared at the planet Venus. He cried of his love to her, his devotion. How is it I don’t receive that love? You scoffed, a moment of clarity as you were still unsure as to why he acted this way. You had suspected it for some time now, his comings and goings from Kew. The secrecy surrounding him and the protectiveness of not only Reynolds but his mother too.

Your voice was like an arrow through the fog, piercing the hazy clouds in his peripherals. Venus seemed to fade into the background as he spun to look at you. You weren’t Venus, you were you. Shining brighter than she ever could. As he watched you approach, the sparkles glittering from your dress enraptured him. He felt himself falling in your direction, before a voice called him to turn around. Venus, competitive as always. She challenged you for his attention. He laughed incredulously, how lucky was he to be fought over by the Goddess of Love and her rival? Reynolds stood at his side, begging helplessly for him to return to the castle. He gathered his clothes in his hand, looking at him with a pleading gaze. Continuously he requested for the King to go inside, tried to reason with him. You knew you had never seen this before but maybe, just maybe he would recognise you.

You reached his side, letting go of your dress. It fell on his feet and pressed into his calves. He turned to you, eyes wide, hyperventilating. “You won-“ He whispered looking at you, as if it was the first time he truly saw you. He turned towards the sky, laughing. “You lost Venus! Imagine that!” He returned to face you but upon seeing your worried expression, his celebrations halted. “How come you are not happy? You have won, have you not?”

“George, it’s time we go inside now.”

“What, why? The night is beautiful we-“

“George, Venus has lost this game but I would prefer to celebrate with you indoors.” He stood very still for a moment, dark brows scrunching together as he tried to concentrate and discern exactly what you were implying. His brain felt jumbled, mixed and confused. Like he wasn’t allowed to understand, as if there was a black alabaster wall separating from the here and there.

“I wish to stay here. Let’s celebrate here.” You paused and gazed at him, studying him carefully. You spun to Reynolds.

“Cover the windows and leave his clothes here. Ensure nobody enters these grounds or can see us.” Reynolds pressed his lips into a thin line before muttering a ‘Yes, your majesty.’ He left, grabbing Brimsley by the elbow and guiding him indoors. You turned back to George, your husband. Your king. You rested a gentle hand on his chest, and he stilled. He sucked in a devastating shaky breath before raising his arms to hold your shoulders.

“You, you saw- oh, wife I- oh I am so sorry.” His eyes began to water, a new clarity crossing them. His face slackened, now an evident frown replacing his once maniacal smile. You hushed him, gently guiding him to your chest as you snaked comforting arms around him. You held him in your embrace, rubbing soothing circles on his back as he let silent sobs escape him. He sniffled, clutching onto the fabric of your dress as he eventually sunk to his knees. “My dear I am so sorry, I am sorry I have avoided you. That I have tried to hide I-“ He couldn’t get his words out but you put a comforting hand on his head. Intertwining your fingers with his brown locks, you gently massaged his scalp.

“Do not apologise George. I understand you. I am here for you. Come, let us lie and look at the stars together.” You smiled at him, holding his hand and laying on the lawn. He tentatively lay beside you, he finally noticed his nakedness and his hands rushed to cover himself. You once again shushed him, grabbing the many layers of your skirts and draping them across his waist. “No need to worry about what I have seen before darling.” You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. He smiled, sucking in a breath after as he looked to the sky.

“I could be married to a pompous wench right now, who wouldn’t give a damn about me. Who would run in the opposite direction if she saw what I did tonight..” he turned his head, gazing at you. You met his eyes and smiled. “Yet you stay, you lie with me. Why?”

“I believe I see myself in you. Trapped, misunderstood.” You took a shivering breath. “Sometimes all we need is a little kindness and a show of stability. I wish to be that for you.” His eyes began to glaze, he sucked in his bottom lip as it began to quiver.

He turned on his side, a new light coming to his eyes. Slowly he raised a leg to bend at an angle across your thighs. Bracing himself on an elbow he gazed at you. His face inches from you. “I do not know what I have done to deserve a woman such as you.” Slowly he lowered his lips to yours, kissing you softly. You reciprocated it, lips merely mingling before he slipped his tongue across them, asking for entry. You obliged, parting your lips as his tongue slipped by. He licked the bottom of your teeth, before dancing around your tongue with his. He sucked on your lip, biting it gently and sucking the sting away. You gasped, a hand travelling up his side. You could feel his muscles shiver at your touch, he manoeuvred over you, straddling your hips. His cock pressed against your stomach, hardening. His hands travelled up your sides before reaching your breasts. They were secured behind the corset of your evening gown, yet he managed to push a hand down its front and grope one. He massaged it in his hand, loving the mass and softness of it. His kiss deepened, he peppered them along your jaw and to your collarbone. Reaching your cleavage he looked at you mischievously, recalling his hand and replacing its absence with long, sensuous licks across the top of your breasts. His tongue travelled over them, then between. He licked up from your cleavage to your throat, to your lips. Kissing you again before he backed down, grabbing your skirts.

“And I you, my queen.”

You were breathing heavy, barely able to control the growing heat intensifying between your legs. A steady throb as it begged for attention. Your core tightening in angst of what was to come. This was what your wedding night should’ve been, but you didn’t care. This, this was better. Laying on the cool grass beneath a bright moon and stars that reflected off of a still pond. This was bliss. George hiked your skirts up, laying them across your midriff. He bowed down again, grabbing your pantyhose and pulling them down to expose bare thighs. He looked at you over the mound of skirts, smirking. “Are you alright my love, may I continue?” You nod, breath escaping you. You peered up at the stars between the foliage of the cherry blossom tree. George dipped his head between your thighs, gently pushing them apart. He kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin, licking the sting away again once more.

Agonisingly slow he made his way to your centre, licking over the underwear covering you. He raised a hand, rubbing a finger between your folds and feeling the wetness seep the fabric. He grinned, pushing a finger into you and watching you arch your back. He kept the underwear on, watching you squirm as he teased you. Ever so slowly he retracted the finger, dragging it up and pressing it to your clit. Your juices soaked the fabric now, it clung to your very shape. You jolted at the contact, the pressure on your clit making you pull away. He grabbed your left leg, putting it over his shoulder and gripping your thigh to hold you in place. He spread you with a knee, continuously exploring you over the whimsy barrier of your panties. You moaned, trying to move but he held you firmly in place. “Are you ready wife? Ready for me to take you?” You nod feverishly, his ministrations have built a fiery ache in your core. Begging for his attention. Your cunt wept as it pleaded for him to enter it, to give it attention. George smirked, gently taking your hands and pulling you up. He stepped behind you and made short work of the lace up your back. He quickly pulled the dress off, then the undergarments until finally you were bare before him. He smiled, standing back and admiring you. “My beautiful wife, in all her glory.” His eyes were ravenous, without a moments hesitation he was back between your legs. He kneeled, grabbing your hips he hoisted you into an awkward position, your legs dangled above his shoulders while you lay only on your shoulders and head. He held you in his grip, his lips placing tender kisses across your cunt. He licked, slow as of tasting your every essence. His tongue slipped into you, to which he began to lick inside you. He left it begging for more and turned his attention to your clit again. It throbbed for him, and he knew it did. He wrapped an arm around your leg, balancing your ass against his chest as he spread you with two fingers. He began to taste you, sucking on your clit. He nipped it, sucking it better straight after. You squirmed in his grasp but he still held you firmly, refusing to let you move. He lapped at your pussy like a thirsty dog, drinking you up. He turned his attention back to your clit, sucking intensely on it. You moaned, cried out his name. He seemed to only grow more excited and you could feel his length pressing into the small of your back. He sucked, and sucked, and sucked until finally the growing tension ruptured. You screamed his name, yet he continued to suck and lick you through the orgasm. You were trembling at the end, and he lay you down, kissing your stomach. He looked up at you as you threaded fingers through his hair. “I’m going to put a baby in you, my queen.” He smirked and you swore it nearly undid you again. He sat back on his knees, his cock long and hard as it stood. He grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him. He grabbed his dick, rubbing it’s tip along your slit. He pressed a firm hand down on your stomach as he slowly pushed his way in without any warning. You stretched, moaning around him. His sheer size pushing you close to ecstasy.

Once he was in he let loose a shivering sigh, looking back to you. “Are you alright my love?” You nodded, placing a hand on his as it pressed into your stomach. He could feel the faint mass of his cock in you, it turned him on even more. Slowly, he pulled out and pushed back in again. Keeping a slow and steady rhythm till you had adjusted. Once he could feel you relax, he began to pound into you. Growing in intensity. Gasps of air escapes him each time he fucks you. You were a moaning mess, barely able to breathe. Your breasts bounced up and down at the ferocity he pounded into you. His balls clapped off your ass, sounding through the garden. You felt like you were in heaven. He looked up at you and grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing it. He pinched your nipple, pulling it slightly as he fucked you. You were in ecstasy. Every inch of your being burning, yearning for his touch. He grabbed your hips, spinning you around to be on all fours as he stayed inside you. He gripped your hips and continued his merciless fucking. “George! Oh fuck George-“ You screamed for him, moaning his name.

“I’m going to cum inside you pretty queen-“ He moaned your name, deep and guttural. “And watch you grow with our child, our heir.” You cried out for him again, and it was all he needed to slam himself into without mercy, he reached a hand around you, rubbing your clit with no remorse. It was so intense you couldn’t think straight.

“George I- George I’m going to cum!”

“Do it, do it for me my queen. Do it together.” He moaned above you, continuing his ministrations. The pair of you cried out, heads thrown back in ecstasy. You orgasmed, and he spilled his seed into you. It’s warmth spreading through your core. He stayed in you for a moment, breathing deeply. You were gasping for air below him. Eventually he slid out, pulling you down to lay beside him. He held you close, running a lazy hand up and down your side.

“My beautiful Queen, fucked by the garden pond.”

[inkykeiji]

Sukuna def calls you princess if he decides you belong to him. <3

oh absolutely, and it’s a term he uses both condescendingly and lovingly. he is the king of curses, after all. it’s only natural you’re his princess.

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, master kink, rough sex, marking, toxic relationship, mention of spanking, fem!reader words: 738

you’re his stupid little princess when you do or say something so adorably dumb, gazing up at him with absolute idiocy smeared across your face, contorting your features—mouth open and downturned, brow scrunched and heavy—as you whimper out but Daddy, why?, head quirked cutely to the side and confusion reflected in your eyes. because i said so, he usually responds with a condescending little pat to your head. oh, you don’t have to worry your pretty little brain about any of that, princess, he promises you. Daddy will take care of it all, Daddy will do all of that pesky thinking and contemplating and deciding; you don’t have to think about a goddamn thing. 

you’re his pathetic little princess when you’re sobbing after being split open by his cock and spanked raw by his hand, face buried in folded arms as salt stains your cheeks and claws pierce your hips, holding you high, holding you still. is your Master’s cock too big for you, princess?  he’s murmuring in your ear, the words hot and breathy as they curl around the shell, his question infused with a smirk. does Daddy’s cock hurt you, princess? he’s cooing out, sick and sadistic and sardonic, against the back of your neck, forehead pressed flush to the base of your skull as his hips pound, cockhead ramming against your sensitive cervix. can you take it for me, princess? he’s laughing as he nuzzles his nose against the hinge of your jaw, placing a chaste kiss to the bone. he wants you to show him how well you can take it for him; he wants to watch the way your sweet lil cunt struggles and stretches and swallows his girth. 

you’re his pouty little princess when you don’t get what you want, when he doesn’t give you what you want, eyes glittering with a thick coat of tears and lip jutted out in a trembling scowl, so deep it crinkles your forehead and puckers your chin. aw, is the poor little princess going to cry? he coos out through his own over-exaggerated pout, brow warped with false worry. is she going to stomp her feet and throw a fit because she isn’t getting her way? he kind of hopes you do, you can tell, can see it glimmering bright and sharp in his eyes, a sort of exhilarated anticipation that begs you to take on his challenge; go on, give him a reason to punish, make his fucking day, baby.

you’re his precious little princess when you stare up at him with adoring eyes, awestruck and shimmering with stars, and murmur out about how much you love him, delicate little fingers tracing his markings in clumsy caresses. the words are melty with affection, gooey and thick with spit as they dribble from your lips after he’s fucked you past the point of lucidity, mind turned to pleasant pink mush under immense pleasure and immaculate pain, body gone pliable and painted in strokes of him—ragged lines of red, blooming blotches of blue, purplish indents carved so deeply into your flesh that they’ll never fully heal, the tiny craters overflowing with sticky crimson. i love you too, princess, he tells you, the words quivering with quiet sincerity even as a sour sickness twists behind his sternum, true and real even as they are unfamiliar and unnatural.

you’re his pretty little princess when you giggle and twirl and strut for him after every single shopping trip, putting on a little fashion show and modelling all of the luxurious lingerie he bought you, lace clinging daintily to supple flesh, silk straps curling lovingly around all of your curves and edges, pieces encrusted with jewels and sparkles that catch on the light as you twist and turn for him. unblinking eyes watch you with a sort of conscientiousness, pupils blown huge and gaping, pitch black and ready to swallow you whole in a single glance. a smirk smears across his face, lopsided, leaning to the left and steadily spreading, as he relaxes back into his favourite armchair, thighs spread wide and a crystal glass of sweating amber dangling from his fingertips. c’mere, pretty princess, he demands gently when he can hardly take it anymore, when you’ve tried on several sets, when his smirk has grown into a grin and his cock is starting to ache, a large palm patting thick muscles. come give me a kiss.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt.3

a/n: "a cigarette pressed between her lips, but i'm staring at her tits, it's the wrong way" - Homelander, probably

Warnings: Masturbation, Explicit Language, General Creepy Behavior, Alcohol Usage, Plus Sized Reader, out-of-date song references.

Summary: Sunday off-work is the perfect time to relax. Unfortunately, your mentor is too interested in shortening that time as much as possible.

Vicarious Masterlist

Your Instagram account is private, but the flimsy security system paled in comparison to Vaught's cyber team.

 Homelander has put in a special request. Actually carried himself to the lower levels of the Tower, asking one of the insignificant workers for a personal favor. Which they were oh-so-honored to fulfill. He's the Symbol of Peace, a fact everyone, besides you, seemed to understand. And as such, here he sits, spread out like a King on his silken sheets, one hand languidly stroking his length through his briefs, while the other scrolls away on your profile. He's aware of the questioning, that awaits him in the morning. Stillwell knew, he never actually used a phone, didn't need to. But that's a problem for the tomorrow version of himself. There isn't much she can do to stop him, either way. He'll get a slap on the wrist,  perhaps even an exasperated sigh, and he's been dealing with those his whole career. 

You must've had this account for a very long time, because the sheer amount of pictures is staggering. When he first flickered through the entirety of this priceless library, it felt like he hit the jackpot. Photos upon photos of different moments from your life stared back at him, at the shameless display of his interest (which he won't call want, because if he wants something, he gets it, and you're clearly not here). Starting from the very bottom, he began to scroll up, quickly passing at least a dozen pictures of you from your high school years. 

You've always been a little chubster, he laughs quietly to himself, bringing the phone closer to his face. Lights dance across his features, as he watches a short video you've uploaded years ago. It's blurry, the quality is worse than shit, but he can recognize your face through the haze of pixels. A nervous little thing, fidgeting with the hem of your color coded costume. It's some sort of student play, it reeks of amateurism. You're standing by the heavy curtain, knee-high socks digging into the meat of your legs in a way, that is tantalizing even through the screen. Biting your lip, you bounce on your legs, trying to rid yourself of the anxious energy, a habit he's noticed a couple of times now.

And oh, there it is. He recognizes the way you shake your hands, some sort of compulsion moving your limbs, consequently, making your curves jiggle under the costume. And then, you finally notice the camera pointed at you, your friend laughs behind the screen, and for some reason Homelander finds the sound aggravating. But your eyes start to shine, as your lips pull back into a bright, if a bit wavering smile, and you lift up your middle finger. His other hand presses harder against his steadily hardening length. 

Another couple of pictures fly past his eyes. You're showing your hands, dirty with splotches of colorful paint to the camera, and there's that sparkle in your eye again. You're decorating your graduation cap. There's glitter everywhere, in your hair, on your nose, on the tops of your breasts peaking from under a washed out sweatshirt. With a groan emanating from deep within his chest, Homelander's hand sneaks under the waistband of his briefs. 

Really, this whole ordeal started as a way to gather some intel. Genuinely.

 He did not expect to be in this situation, because honestly, what the fuck? The last time he's seen you in person, you were such an interesting enigma, he had to know more, had to figure out how the essence of you worked. Which version of you was the real one? The tired one, who cared for nothing save for her neighbourhood? Or the version, who held his gaze with a straight back? How did you disappear into yourself so quickly, were you putting on a mask, or showing your true colors? 

Who was your favorite Superhero? He was convinced it had to be him, that's why you've been acting so strange around him, a pathetic attempt at fighting off your crush. All in favor of professionalism. 

He huffs a staggering breath, fingers encircling his growing hard-on with light pressure. There's a video of you, again, quite recent at that. You're sitting on the floor, an unfamiliar place, he notes, remembering the look of your living room. Legs splayed out, covered by a flowy skirt, and as his grip tightens, Homelander wonders if you're wearing those same, washed out panties he saw on you the first time you've met. Leaning heavily on the front of an old couch, your entire body overflows with relaxed, leisure energy.

Your friend's hand appears from the edge of the screen, passing you a small box covered in present paper.

- Oh God, what's this? - you ask, your voice slightly distorted by the awful quality of the video.

- Something to hump in the night - your friend answers with a snort of laughter.

You regard them with a skeptically raised eyebrow, but tear into the paper, strips of it falling onto your lap. Then, you open the box, and Homelander groans, his hips lifting ever so slightly from the sheets. Your curious smile fades away into a thoroughly unimpressed expression. Reaching into the box, you lift a small plushie, presenting it to the camera, as your friend shakes with laughter.

- Okay, fuck you - you burst out laughing, the sound rich and so incredibly warm.

There it is, his cartoon face stares back at him, as you squeeze the plushie between your fingers. Fuck. His hand speeds up, and he all but yanks his briefs down, freeing himself and immediately going back to work. 

He zeroes in on the glowing blush, blooming on your face, noting a bottle of red wine right next to you on the floor. It's probably sickly sweet, and cheap. Perfect for you. Perhaps, you're pushed by the alcohol flowing through your veins, but Homelander doesn't believe it. He knows you imagine it's truly him, your favorite superhero, as you giggle and press your soft lips to the embroidered face of the plushie, giving it a loud kiss. 

He can almost imagine the moisture of your tongue on his cheek, the taste of wine mingling with that incessant jasmine perfume, you carry around on your skin. A tease, that's what you are, flaunting yourself in front of him in all your softness, all your glory.

- Fuck... - he grits through his teeth, searing the image into his memory, his other hand squeezing him harder - Shit.

Another picture seems to be from that same night. You're noticeably more disheveled, hair sticking out in odd places, your shirt falling off the shoulder. You're standing under the kitchen light, it shines behind your head like an angel's halo. Arms folded, you gaze tenderly at the gifted plushie, holding it close to your chest as one would a newborn baby, your lips pulled back into a drunken, but gentle smile. 

That, for some unknown reason (or known, Homelander is aware of his vices), makes him tumble over the edge, with a drawn out, guttural groan. His movements stutter, hips jerking upwards into his hand, as he feels his release coat his fingers. For a moment, it's completely quiet inside his penthouse, his chest rising and falling from the exertion. His phone clicks shut, and he throws it onto the pillow with a soft thud, eyes closing for just a second longer, savoring the images flashing behind his eyelids. 

Not enough, after a while he sighs to himself frustrated, wiping his hand on the silk sheets, his dissatisfaction leading him to stand up from the bed, and stalk towards one of the gigantic windows overlooking the city at night. With slow, lazy movements, he tucks himself back into his briefs, closing the zipper of his costume, hand lingering in the general area, should he decide to change his mind. 

The night is growing darker and darker by the moment, but it makes no difference for his unnatural gaze, as he focuses his attention on the street below. There, right at the entrance to the Vaught Tower, he can see the top of your head, standing on the sidewalk, tapping your foot to the music coming from the headphones placed over your ears. Homelander observes as a car pulls up, a shiny Uber sign catching his attention. 

Why the hell would you use such pedestrian ways of commuting is beyond him, especially since Vaught's personal drivers were available to you, should you truly need to go somewhere important. Or, you could ask him to fly you, so he can wrap his arms around you, and fuck you mid-air. Now, that's an interesting image. Interesting enough for his hand to twitch at his side, reaching to his belt as if it's working on autopilot. Before he can get too carried away, however, he composes himself with a hard breath sucked through his teeth. 

Curiosity killed the cat, but he's invincible, so what's the harm in indulging himself a little more?

The window to his room opens all the way inside, cool air wafting around his form, as he steps closer to the edge, his cape billowing behind him. And then, he's off. The force of his body lifting into the sky chips the floor of his penthouse, dust falling into the streets below. 

***

One day, every two weeks. That's all the free time you get, for the next six months. 

Coordinating your attendance at a party with the rest of your friends, while on such a tight schedule, bordered on impossible. But somehow, miraculously, you all managed to find that one, elusive Sunday. And two weeks after signing the contract as well. From the moment you've woken up in the morning, you've been filled to the brim with excited energy. While you've begged your friend not to go too overboard on the celebrations, you knew deep down, that people needed some excuse to unwind. And, as such, your joining with Vaught offered such an excuse on a silver platter. 

The Uber takes you through the city, lights flashing past the windows, as you fidget with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. 

God above, you've missed comfortable clothing with a burning passion. After being sucked into Fireball's hero costume for almost two weeks now, the moment you slipped on your cotton biker shorts felt borderline orgasmic. You tried to advocate for some safety shorts, under that stiff monstrosity of a skirt, the costume department provided you with, after the skin on the inside of your thighs tore nearly all the way to the bone from constant chafing. All you got in response, was a bottle of baby powder with Queen Meave's face on it, which felt more like a slap to the cheek, but you digress. 

You'll ask again after tonight. Stillwell might be more receptive to your ideas, now that you've proven yourself to be a model employee. 

The car moves through your neighborhood, your eyes gliding over familiar buildings with a sense of growing melancholy. You decide to push this feeling all the way down, as far as it can go. Tonight's not made for this, you'll allow yourself the luxury of sadness tomorrow, while fighting off the inevitable hangover.

Right now, you can already hear the music, bumping through speakers which saw better days. You can already see flickering lights inside your friend's house, silhouettes of various people moving behind flimsy curtains. You can already taste the horrendous drinks you're about to down. You've missed this. You've been out of here for only two weeks, and in that short time, all you wanted to do, was get back to the familiarity of your previous, non-famous life. The freedom of being yourself, and not this corporate puppet Vaught created.

The Uber pulls up, you pay, and your foot doesn't even have the chance to fully step on the sidewalk, when your friend drags you out of the car. Their smell, their warmth engulfing you entirely, wiping away any remaining worries. They announce your arrival to the crowd of people, more or less familiar to you, and soon, like a blunt at a function, you're being passed around the room. Smiling faces and words of congratulations overwhelm you in the best way possible. Someone pats your head, someone shakes your hand, someone claps you on the back. Someone pushes a drink into your palm, someone else kisses your cheek. 

And before you can even notice, the first notes of Jump Around by House of Pain start playing, and your friend tugs you by the elbow towards the living room, where the center of the party takes place. Bodies swaying, colognes, perfumes, sweat, it all mixes together in an intoxicating wave, and at that very moment Fireball is thrown out the window, locked out of this heaven. In her place, Smirnoff arises, victorious for tonight, and you welcome yourself back with open arms. 

Alcohol swishes around in your veins, a peculiar mixture of lemonade, Sprite and four different types of liquors. Your head is buzzing with the distorted sounds of bass, shaking the glass panes of the windows, your heart beating to the changing tune of another song. And another. And one more. Your hairdo is long forgotten, strands sticking to your sweaty forehead, to the back of your neck. Your voice is almost completely gone, from screaming over the surrounding sounds, and you're certain you won't be able to talk tomorrow.

 But that doesn't matter. Nothing matters, not here, not right now. 

At California Love you find out a group of your college girlfriends qualified for a Vaught sponsored scholarship program. Their hands glide over your waist, as they scream the news at you over 2Pac's voice, and you throw your head back and laugh. Simply laugh. Relief floods you. A feeling you were not expecting, because they're honoring the contract, despite everything you've always known about the company. So it's all worth it.

During Hey Ya!, your neighbor tells you they've managed to score a job at the Tower. The news is interrupted a couple of times, so you all can clap to the music. At this point your muscles are starting to burn from the constant jumping, but that doesn't stop you from shaking your behind in celebration, just like OutKast wanted. 

When No Diggity comes around, your friend invites you to their wedding, requesting specifically for you to come in your Superhero getup. Not really as an appreciation of Fireball's character, they just think it would be funny, and for them, you might actually consider it. They show you the ring, as you both grind against each other, make a pause in said grinding to take a burning shot of Fireball (yes, they thought it would be hilarious), and get back to grinding. 

You're doing good, everyone is doing good, and if selling your soul is all it takes to keep those smiles on your friend's faces, then the price seems comically small in comparison. And yet, something tugs at  the back of your mind, some hidden, biting feeling, wrenching itself under your skin.

By the time No Role Modelz comes up, your head feels so heavy, so filled to the brim with emotions, that you feel like the splintered floor inside your friend's living room will swallow you whole. Suddenly, it's all too much, and far too quickly, and you push past the crowds of oh-so-grateful people, until you all but throw yourself out the front door, half of your drink spilling onto the wooden porch. 

Such a waste.

Smirnoff, oh, Smirnoff, what have you done to yourself, you thins, stumbling through the grass, until your shoes find the sidewalk. Until your ass hits the concrete, and you lean heavily forward, bracing your hands on your knees, hiding your face in your arms. Your stomach feels much too tight for comfort, its contents swirling like a tornado. The music still follows you, the sounds of the party now muted, but still so tangible. Your stomach churns, your eyes start to burn under the mascara.

You won't cry. You can't cry. 

This is what you wanted, those were your terms, you don't get to swallow your own words. Especially since Vaught, apparently, is honoring their end of the deal. And if you were roped into it by an indirect blackmail... Then, so what? Your friend would never be able to afford a wedding, and now they have a date. They're looking at dresses in actual salons, not charity shops. Missus Johnson's kid's school got enough funding, that it's finally getting a whole renovation. Even the drama departament will get some money. You can never cry because of that. 

You don't even know what you're drinking, but you down the rest of it in one go, liquid burning it's way through your insides, until it reaches the already restless stomach. Fireball will surely pay for Smirnoff's sins tomorrow, but fuck that fake bitch, you want to feel alive. 

The song changes again, and you wait until the screams of delight subside inside the house, so you can recognize what's playing. Berkeley's On Fire. It makes you huff a laugh, as you hear a myriad of out of tune voices, yelling at the top of their lungs. You should go back, join them, enjoy this night to the fullest. But your head sways, and your limbs feel like your bones are made out of lead, so you stay in your place, tapping your foot to the distant sounds of the party. It's hard to focus on anything for longer than a minute, and, fearing an upcoming wave of anxiety, you reach into your pocket, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. 

"Put your pom-poms down, you didn't win shit" 

Oh, ha ha, hilarious.

You light one up with practiced ease, inhaling enough smoke to make your lungs burn, make your eyes line with tears, that you simply refuse to shed. Breathing out a cloud of fumes, you relish in the way they curl around your head, the smell both irritating your senses, and calming them. 

- You know these will kill you, right?

Your head snaps up, and as your eyes adjust against the darkness of the night, your breath catches in your throat. Admittedly, before your tipsy brain catches up, the view is quite spectacular. Surrounded by his American flag cape, Homelander descends from the night sky, his movements unnaturally graceful. His feet touch down onto the concrete in front of you, the street lamp illuminating his imposing figure, like a Patron Saint of The American Dream. He's almost beautiful like that, almost enough to fool you. But suddenly the realization of what exactly you're looking at, hits your like a train, and every muscle in your body tenses up, as you stand up quickly, taking a few stabilizing steps. Homelander's face blurs before your very eyes.

Perhaps those last two shots were a mistake. 

- What the fuck are you doing here? - your words come out with a slur, but your voice remains strong, demanding - Are you stalking me?

The illusion is gone with a blink of an eye, and you watch, as his face twists, in what you think is supposed to be an expression of nonchalance. He's really, truly, not as good of a liar as he thinks he is. 

- What? - he scoffs, sells it harder by looking at you like you're insane - No, no way. I have better things to do than stalk little girls like you.

He did not just call you little girl after repeatedly staring at your boobs, like they were ornaments on a Christmas tree. Your irritation flares up, and with a frown you take a quick, steadying drag from your cigarette. Your head sways to the side before you can stop yourself, as nicotine dances with alcohol within your system, his eyes follow the movement with light amusement.

- I was just on my patrol, and saw you sitting here alone - he continues, taking one step closer - Can't a hero check on his favorite Sidekick?

You throw him a withering look, one he brushes off with a (fake) charming smile. 

- Whatever, I'm not dealing with all this tonight - you wave your hand in his general direction.

Still holding your cigarette like a lifeline, you squat down, only to plop your ass back on the sidewalk with a heavy sigh. Homelander watches you with a mixture of emotions swimming through his eyes, and you can't decide which one would be better. Disgust might've been the safest. If he felt appalled by you, perhaps he would just leave you alone, let you slump down on your own. Amusement offered more risks, because you suspected the man was constantly fighting off bouts of boredom (much like yourself, but you were not about to think too hard about it in your current state, or any state, ever). You didn't want to catch his interest, at least not more than you've already done. And then, there was something else, something you were not naive enough to ignore, but definitely too drunk to get scared by. 

- You shouldn't be sitting here alone - he comments, taking another step forward - Someone might take advantage of a pretty girl like you, in such a vulnerable state at that. 

- Someone other than you, you mean? 

You're not sure what pushes your tongue to form the words in such a challenging, flippant manner, but it's too late now. Hanging your head low, you blow out another cloud of smoke, and his eyes follow the fumes, as they curl around your mouth. 

He's never considered smoking to be remotely attractive, but as he stands now, there's something alluring in your rebellious gesture. Usually, he wouldn't tolerate any of this, he's had people removed for far less. And yet, it's been such a long time, since he felt any sliver of entertainment, especially now, after his relationship with Meave ended. 

There is a groan coming out of your lips, and he watches as your body tips, back splaying on the sidewalk. It's instinctual, the way his tongue slips out to wet his lips, at the sight of your soft body molding itself into a laying position. This, borderline offensively, large T-shirt, spills around you, the ghost of your curves peaking at him through the thin cotton material. The hem rides up your plush thighs, exposing those ridiculous biker shorts below, as they dig ever so slightly into your skin. He can imagine the red lines, that would run across your flesh, where the stitches make their mark. He'd like to feel those ridges, map them out with his fingers, his tongue. 

He blinks, frowns, pushing those thoughts down, so he can replay them in the privacy of some unfortunate skyscraper. 

- Why aren't you at the party? - he asks finally, even though he knows the answer. 

He's been watching from the very begining, hidden from a regular human's sight, surrounded by darkness like it belonged to him. Rubbed a quick one to the sight of you dancing, your smile so bright, it almost blinded him. 

You're silent for a little while, eyes closed, as you soak in the warmth from the sidewalk, seeping into your back. The cigarette in your hand is burning, seemingly forgotten, ash gathering at the end, before it breaks off, and falls unceremoniously. 

- I needed some fresh air - not entirely a lie, but not the whole truth either.

Your voice is so quiet, with this tired edge he's noticed before. Like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. He should feel insulted, really. Here he is, slaving away for the same company as you, saving insignificant lives, securing the budget. And what are you doing, exactly? Get wasted the first chance you can, and piss him off with this holier-than-thou bullshit. Acting like you're such a martyr, while getting a check that would make half this neighbourhood shit their pants. The absolute audacity of you, pretending to be tired, to be so bored, when he's standing right here. Your favorite hero.

Quietly, he bristles, blinking a couple of times, to rid himself of this incessant, stinging sensation in the corner of his eyes. When was the last time he's felt this... Aggravated? 

- I think I'm gonna head back to the Tower - you muse after a moment, the way your chest rises and falls capturing his gaze immediately - I've had enough for tonight. 

His eyebrows scrunch at the sudden note of melancholy entering your voice, but he swallows his intrigue, taking on a more nonchalant persona. 

- I could fly you back.

Silence. Your eyes shoot open, as you look at him with an unreadable expression, and he rolls his shoulders under your scrutiny. This is definitely one of the things he hates about you the most. This keen sense of observation. Suddenly, he feels the padding inside his suit a tiny bit more on his skin.

- What? - he asks, trying to sound casual, but you could pick up on the tension in his voice immediately.

- You're really giving me some mixed signals - you muse, the corner of your mouth twitching in a way that is more enchanting, than he would ever anticipate. 

While your words come out quite evenly, the swaying instability of your body, as you try to stand, betrays just how drunk you really are. For what it's worth, Homelander finds it endearing. The way you have to take a couple steps to steady yourself, refusing with a burning passion to even consider holding onto him for support. He wants to scoff so badly, at this pathetic display of independence. Shouldn't you want to put your hands all over your favorite Superhero? 

He opts for staying quiet, however, betting everything on your pliability. 

- I'm giving you mixed signals? - he huffs, bordering on offended, recounting all of your previous interactions.

- Well, yes - you take a step closer, back as straight as it can go, and his nose is assaulted by the smell of jasmine flowers and cigarettes - Since I've met you, you've been trying to charm me, threaten me, all the while harassing me like we're in fucking high school.

Homelander shrugs, waving his hand in your direction, as if trying to swat an annoying fly. And in many ways, that's how he sees you. An annoying, infuriating fly, with a nice pair of tits that you just refuse to share with him. And that just won't fly (he's proud of that joke). 

- Oh don't be so dramatic - he laughs, the sound forced through his teeth - Everyone knows you have to hassle the newbie a bit...

The sound of your laughter is strange to his ears, despite hearing it many times before, albeit, never directly. A cackling, casual sort of chuckle, which shakes your entire being, and brings something strange swirling in his gut. He would never describe this something as a feeling, because this is not some teenage romance drama. But he would like to hear you laugh again, if only to satiate his hunger for any sort of reaction. The fact it's a positive reaction has nothing to do with this, by the way. 

- That's the weirdest fucking hazing, I've ever experienced, then - you muse, a ghost of a smile still present on your lips, as you close the distance between yourself and Homelander, in a couple more steps, than what's necesary - Would you really fly me back to the Tower?

- Of course, Princess - he flicks your chin with his finger, revelling in the way your head bounces back - Consider it an apology, for makin you uncomfortable before. 

For now, you're willing to overlook the nickname, which surely could be considered a term of endearment, if any other person would use it. You mull over his words, looking at him for a moment longer, your eyes flickering all over his features. Even despite the overwhelming darkness surrounding the two of you, his pupils are so small, for a moment all you can see is the ever-consuming blue. He's handsome, of course he is. A bit too America's Sweetheart for you, but objectively, you were staring at a very attractive man. Who, by all intents and purposes, looks sincere in his offer. 

So you shrug.

- Alright - his smirk widens into a smile, those sharp canines making an appearance - So, how do we do this...? 

You look between him and yourself, and Homelander bites his lip, putting his hands on his hips, as he eyes you for a second longer.

- Put your arms around my neck - his voice is quieter, much lower as well, something which, in hindsight, you shouldn't have overlooked.

You do as he asks, stepping even closer, and wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling more than a bit awkward as you do. It's quiet for a second too long, his chest exapands, brushing against yours. But just as you're about to say something, Homelander's hands grab you tightly around your waist, bringing your bodies flush together. 

And then, the rush of air forces your eyes closed, this unfamiliar feeling of your feet suddenly being very much not on the ground, making your heart drop to the very bottom of your shoes.

- Fuck! - you curse loudly.

Instinctually, your legs wrap aound his midsection, as your calves dig themselves into his sides. You can't look. Refuse to, and with an unbecoming sound, you hide your face in the space between his collarbones, the cologne he seems to constantly wear pacifying your nerves for just a fraction. 

And. He. Fucking. Loves. It. 

The lightness of air surrounds him, making his senses even more acute. Your weight, your soft, pliable body, pressed so tightly to him, he thinks he might get absorbed completely. It's so much better, than what he has imagined. Your fingers grab onto the back of his collar, nails biting into the fabric, so close to digging themselves into his skin. Your chest rises in short, panicked breaths, and he feels every single one of them, wants to crawl into your chest and suck the air straight out of your lungs. The heat of your body alone makes his head spin with dark arousal. And your legs are already in position too. It would so childishly easy, to just take you here, under the night sky. 

- Are we there yet? - your voice borders on a pathetic whine, and the sound runs straight to his nether regions, the pants of his suit tightening on command.

Any building would do, he thinks, as he cuts through air over New York. He could land right there, on the rooftop of this sandwich shop you run off to, every time there's a lunch break. And fuck you, until you'd never want to eat in this disgusting, dirty, cockroach-infested place ever again. Or here, just outside the Vaught Tower, where you oh-so-rudely refused to ask him for help, only to cram your delicious body into an Uber. He'll have to punish you for this oversight.

- We're so close - he smirks into your hair, taking a whiff of your scent as he goes. 

Or, he could follow his original plan, and screw you on every flat surface inside his penthouse. 

The window is still wide open, and he slows down his flight, as he aims for the entrance. His arms tighten around you ever so slightly. There wouldn't be much he could do with you, if you knocked your head on the glass pane, and as if responding to his touch, your own grip becomes even more suffocating. If he was a regular human, he's sure, you'd squeeze the life out of him. And then, amidst flying papers and the overpowering smell of his cologne, everything stops. 

Neither of you move. You're too shaken by the flight to detach yourself from him, and he abuses that fact for all it's worth. His lips pull back into a sharp, dangerous smile. Unknowingly, you've just let a Lion carry you right into his den. 

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x You

Summary: It was supposed to be an entertaining evening. Boxing fights, booze and party. It wasn't supposed to be one of the worst days of your life. || Featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 4.5k

TW: angst+++, alteration of canon events, canonical violence, depictions of slaughter and body horror, main character death, Reader's husband dying, suicidal thoughts, graphic murder. Parts in bold are direct quotes from the show. Parts in Italics are direct quotes from preceding chapters. Also, Tommy will take more space in the next chapters.

Notes:

✞ Shorter chapter because it's extremely violent and angsty. Also, I'm super rusty so I tried to write it in a more direct style so it's prolly less poetic and beautiful.

✞ This is chapter 16 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alones but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The extraordinary general meeting of the Shelby Ladies Club.

This is what Polly called this unexpected little meeting in the bathroom right in the middle of the rigged fight happening a few rooms away. When you entered the lavatory with Ada complaining about the sparring between Goliath and Bonnie, Aunt Pol was taking a cigarette from the silver case she was holding while Lizzie was fixing her hair.

“I love your messy bun, Heaven.” Lizzie complimented when she saw your reflection in the mirror she was using.

“Thank you Liz. Ada scolded me and decided that it would be a better hairstyle for tonight.”

“You never style your hair except for braids and it’s a fucking shame considering how beautiful and long your white mane is.” The young Shelby sister insisted.

“If you say so,” You snorted, amused, “What are you doing here? Plotting and scheming? Leave these for Thomas.” You smirked, sitting on the edge of a sink with movements as nimble as a cat. Your little cutting remark had the expected effect: the three girls laughed with sincerity, somewhat amused by the beef between you and the family’s boss. They had eventually learned that nothing could ever ease the tension between the two of you, so laughing about the matter was the only thing they could do. A part of you couldn’t help but think that they wouldn’t find it that amusing anymore if they knew the unhealthy turn your mutual hatred had taken.

What did you feel when we kissed? A shiver ran down your spine as you heard Tommy’s husky voice, as charming as venomous, whispering in your ear. It might only have been a memory, but you could almost feel his hot whisky breath brushing your skin.

“Heaven has some news.” Polly’s voice resounded in the bathroom, snatching you from your thoughts.

“Me?” You asked, batting your bambi lashes in incomprehension before the understanding of the situation slapped you right in the face.

“Well, tell her. Now! While the men are screaming for blood.”  Polly sneaked a cigarette between her thin, red lips. 

Your blood momentarily froze in your pale veins for this unexpected pregnancy wasn’t something you wanted to talk about. For sure Aunt Pol didn’t mean to do harm, but the surrounding chaos and your last encounter with Luca Changretta seriously eroded your wish to have a baby. The baby who made you so vulnerable during times that were anything but good. Moreover, a quick glance at Lizzie’s sad and anxious eyes had been enough for you to understand that something was weighing on her shoulders. Something you had guessed for a few days. Something she needed to talk about more than you. The corner of your mouth turned up in a half-smile.

“Well, I discovered something about Lizzie but I think she should be the one making the announcement. Shouldn’t you, Lizzie?” You winked, replacing one of your long white strands of hair behind your pierced ear with a naive pout. Glitters of hope and gratefulness suddenly sparkled in the ocean blue of the secretary’s eyes to whom you replied with a discreet nod before grabbing Polly’s cigarette case.

“I’m up the duff. And it’s Tommy’s.”

You took a long drag on the cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke by your nostrils as the attention was now on Lizzie. Even though Ada almost choked on her sip of gin, she quickly showed interest in the tall woman’s pregnancy. The only one you didn’t fool was old and cunning Aunt Pol who gave you a brief “okay I get it” glance before turning back to Lizzie.

It’s a girl. Call her Ruby. Ruby Shelby. She’ll be a star in a Hollywood movie.

You watched the scene with a light smile floating upon your plump and glossy lips, satisfied by the outcome of your little trick as well as the surprising unconditional support Lizzie was receiving after years of being seen only through her job as a prostitute. Admittedly, the reason behind the little push you gave to Lizzie Stark was purely selfish, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you kind of liked the woman despite never really interacting with her. She got the attention, and you got peace. It was a win-win situation.

“Congratulations, Lizzie.” You said, your siren-like voice as soft as a lazy ocean.

“She’s a real Shelby lady now. Just like you, Devil.”  Polly’s smirk betrayed her amusement. You rolled your eyes teasingly before proudly showing your left hand and wiggling your small fingers to display the magnificent wedding ring Arthur had gifted you.

“What about you Hev? When are you planning to give us a little Arthur?” Ada suddenly asked, Lizzie's news had visibly rendered her sour mood better.

“I think one Arthur is enough for now, don’t you?” You got up from the sink and carefully smoothed the folds your revealing black dress, “Anyway. Ladies, let’s rejoin our gentlemen.”

“I guess the meeting is over.” Ada added with a little chuckle

Joining deeds to words, Polly gently hooked her arm with yours in a motherly gesture and guided you outside, where the crowd’s roars were echoing.

Laughs and cheers filled the room as Johnny Dog put on a show to get more men to bet on the winner of this fight. Swallowing a mouthful of gin, your seraphic traits turned into a wince at the burning sensation the alcohol left in your throat – that new batch was strong, indeed. The sweet taste that exploded on your tastebuds, when the tip of your rosy tongue licked your juicy lips, made you grin, or maybe it was the all-consuming smell of sweat and blood that lingered in the air. It might come off as surprising for other women, but you enjoyed watching fights. There was something brutal but so real about them. After all, humans were just animals wearing suits. Animals which, according to you, had barely learned to speak instead of growling.

Your lips pinched the cigarette as you took another drag you quickly blew, your eyes following blood spurting from Bonnie’s nose and splattering the ground. Although quieter than Polly, Lizzie, and Ada, who were laughing, screaming, and sometimes nudging you in excitement at each violent blow the Romani boy gave back to his opponent, you had a lot of fun. Until a peculiar but familiar feeling blossomed within.

It started with a chill creeping down your spine and ended up with light tremors shaking your frail silhouette. Instinctively, you raised your piercing gaze and searched for Arthur somewhere among the crowded rows of folded seats. Your usual calm demeanor faltered as you noticed that your husband seemed troubled by something, rapidly glancing from here and there, attempting to read the room for whatever reason. He didn’t even pay attention to you, far too busy observing the men that were around the boxing ring. Eventually, Arthur stood up and left, his steel blue eyes fixed on someone he followed through the depths of the building. Let me do my fucking job! That’s what he barked at Tommy, or at least what you thought you overheard.

You frowned as a strange sensation rippled through your mind – like a distant, haunting whisper of something looming, a threat. Nervously swallowing your saliva, your first reflex was looking at Tommy. You couldn’t place it, but the odd feeling gripped you tightly like an omen you couldn’t shake, warning you of an approaching storm. It seemed like little King Shelby shared your inner agitation though, for his mesmerizing turquoise eyes dived into yours with the same nervousness and incomprehension. Whatever the many reasons behind your hatred, you were definitely on the same wavelength at this very moment. The silent conversation, expressed through brief eyebrows and eye movements, was more or less the following:

-Where is he going?

-I don’t know. It’s prolly the booze and the pills.

-It’s not. I’ll check.

-Don’t fucking do that.

You stood up from your seat with a clenched jaw and, feeling the vibration of this bad omen quaking your soul itself, you nimbly snaked in and out through seats and followed Arthur’s steps. As was the case for your husband a few minutes ago, the dark corridor into which you rushed engulfed your ethereal silhouette like a hungry giant.

“Fuck.” Tommy mumbled, straightening on his seat and leaning forward, “Fuck.” He repeated, torn between his own doubts and his disdain for you. Nevertheless, if there was one thing he had learned since you joined the family was that your gut feelings were never wrong. You proved it several times, starting by foreseeing Charlie’s abduction. The dark-haired gangster sniffed and nervously rubbed his chin, his catlike eyes going back on forth between the corridor and the crowd. A few minutes later, Tommy finally left the fighting pit.

Something was definitely off.

Cautiously walking through the maze of dark hallways dimly lit by a bluish light, you tried to ignore the maddening beat of your heart that was drumming so loud you felt it hammering in your temples. You didn’t really know where you were heading, nor where Arthur went, but the more you moved forward, the more this unbearable feeling of dread and panic invaded you. Your aimless wandering came to an end when the strong and metallic smell of fresh blood and the atrocious sight that followed jumped at your face.

No.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw him – your husband, slumped on the ground, blood soaking through the collar of his shirt as it gushed from the wound across his throat.

No!

Time seemed to slow down, and your heart seemed to stop as you took in the scene: the gun the Italian bastard was holding in his steady hand aimed at Arthur’s head.

Panic crashed over you like a tidal wave, washing away everything but the rage that had piled up within you during all these years. In that moment, something primal and destructive snapped inside of you. In a blur of rage and raw instinct, and with a guttural scream that seemed too inhumane to come from you, you launched yourself at the mafioso, who barely had the time to turn around. Another furious shriek escaped from your quivering lips, similar to the rabid screech of a wounded banshee, and with your fingers curled into claws, your sharp nails slashed across his face.  

“PUTTANA!” The man yelled and gasped, taken aback by your unleashed fury.

The mafioso fired with his gun in a desperate attempt to kill you but the brutal impact between your two bodies threw him off balance and the shot reached the wall instead of your brain. As his spine crashed against the tiled ground, Changretta’s henchman dropped the weapon. You gave it a brutal blow to make it slide away from him.

Another wave of insults followed as he realized that he struggled to overpower you. You were fighting like a cornered animal, wild and relentless. Your claws scratched him again and again, leaving raw and jagged lines of blood all over his face. The mafioso's strength was starting to falter as he realized that you weren’t just fighting to win; you were fighting to kill him, your body moved by the instinct of a bloodthirsty beast that refused to be caged.

"Stop it, you fucking bitch!" A scream of utter pain brutally tore the air as, completely out of your mind, you dug your thumbs into his skull, pushing harder and harder in an attempt to gouge his eyes. The Sicilian man produced a second sound so twisted that it seemed beyond anything a human throat could produce. The more you pushed with your thumbs, the more you felt his eyeball turning into a viscous pulp. The feeling of the moist and warm liquid on your fingers didn’t stop you. Nor the man’s wails of pure agony, with its pitch far too high and too broken.

“Ajùtami! Ajùtami!” He pleaded, his hands felt the ground in panic, searching for anything he could use to push you away from him. Anything to make you stop. Realizing that nothing was around him, not even the thread he used to attack Arthur, he managed to overcome the pain and gather his strength to grab your throat.

With your air squeezed, you wheezed and removed your fingers from his skull to claw his strong hands. “S-Stop!” Panic flooded you as your vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges. The harder you fought, the harder he strangled you. Seriously lacking air, you clawed at his arms, desperate to breathe, but his grip was iron. Now you had to do something and do it quickly if you wanted to have a chance to save Arthur.

Your thoughts raced, frantic, until instinct took over.

I love your messy bun, Hev!

The judas stick – now you had a chance. With one quick movement, you brought your hand to your bun and your fingers fumbled for the sharp metal judas stick that was holding your hair in place. It came in handy. With a choked sound, you drove it upward and sunk the sharp edge of the stick into the man’s side.

One time.

Two times.

Three, four, five, six…

Side, chest, shoulder, face… 

Each impact was vicious and powerful, tearing through the flesh like butter and drilling into organs and bones with the sheer will of maiming your enemy. Hot blood splashed all over you and around, but you didn’t care. The only thing that made you stop stabbing him was when you felt the man’s grip loosen around your throat until his arms dropped on the red-smeared ground in a loud thud.

“Fuck!” You sucked in a sharp breath, your voice hoarse from being choked. However, you quickly got up from the corpse to run to your husband.  “Arthur!” You screamed, rushing to his side, your hands trembling as you knelt beside him – or rather as you dropped to your knees, your legs unable to support your weight anymore. Panic seized you even more violently as you saw Arthur's deep wound and the blood—too much blood.

“No, no, no… not like this,” You whispered, voice cracking. You couldn’t lose him, not here, not now. Never. Your fingers brushed over his chest and, in your deepest desperation, you looked for his pulse. A pulse you found, but which was becoming slower and fainter as seconds flew by. “Arthur! Please!” You started sobbing, tears streaming down your face and mixing with the fresh blood that was painting your skin in a disgusting shade of red. You had to face the truth: Arthur was dying. The damages were too serious and the bleeding too much… But you were a witch. The gift of healing was coursing through your veins. The only problem was that if you tried to save him by using your magic, you’d hurt the baby. After all, that was what happened when you tried to kill Luca Changretta with a heart attack.

The baby.

Your husband or the baby?

Your heart painfully raced in your chest. Your erratic breathing and your sore throat made you feel like you weren’t getting enough air.

 “I’d love to have kids with ye, eh. Little white-haired and blue-eyed us running barefoot in the forest… Little embodiments of our love brightening our life.” His voice was merely a whisper now for he was slowly falling asleep, “I’ve always wanted to be a dad… but thought I was too messed up for that.”

You could save him. You had to. Despite this torture of a dilemma and the harshness of the decision, nothing could change your mind, not even the feeling of your heart shattering into millions of shards. Closing your eyes, you placed one hand over his throat, the blood warm under your palm, and the other on his chest. Wasting no time, you channel all your strength – the connection sparked, and the raw, untamed magic you inherited from your mother surged through you. It seemed to work at first, his pulse lightly responding to yours.

But the more the magic surged, the more you felt a terrible pain in your belly. It started as cramps but quickly escalated into suffering so high that you felt like someone was stabbing you. A trembling squeal escaped from your red lips. You were killing it, you knew it. You were killing your own baby.

"Come on, come on," You muttered, pushing harder, forcing your will into his body. "Stay with me, Arthur," You whispered, tears streaking down your face, each sentence cut by muffled cries of the mafioso you had slaughtered and who was still alive— not for too long to be honest. He seemed to say something in Sicilian but you couldn't understand what. And you didn't care. "Just... stay with me." You gritted your teeth, doing your best to put up with the pain.

Click.

You froze.

“You nosey little slut. You should've stayed with the others.” 

Your heart missed a leap at the unknown male voice, carried by a thick Italian accent. The mafioso’s colleague looked at you, gun pointed right to your head.

"Remember me?" He asked with a wicked smile, recalling the moment he had offered you a cigarette a few hours ago. During your brief chit-chat, he told you that his name was Damiano but you didn't make the connection between Changretta and his Italian heritage.

“Don't cry, you're going to meet with your husband again very soon." the imposing man added, a few seconds away from ending your life. However, Damiano didn't know what you were capable of. Even less now that you were driven by pure rage and despair.

“Shut the fuck up!” You suddenly yelled, your claws firmly anchored in your husband to make Damiano understand that no one would snatch him from your arms. Your voice, a seductive melody that could enchant like a siren’s song, suddenly sounded monstrous. Raw and primal, the way you screamed the threat echoed in the entire maze of hallways and made Tommy’s blood freeze in his veins, a few corridors away. “Fucking die!”

Damiano didn't know that he never stood a chance. You sealed that man's demise with one blunt arm movement as if you had wanted to chase a mosquito from your face.  

"Wh-What..."

Damiano, fell on his knees next to his dying friend, and writhed on the floor. With his two hands pressing on his chest, he suddenly started to choke and, right after, threw up a great amount of thick blood. Apart from the vomiting, blood soon seeped from his eyes and ears, bubbling like something inside was boiling them alive.

"P-Please!" He begged but you didn't stop. The man obviously tried to scream but the only sound he could produce was disgusting gurgles.

"Don't worry, you're going to meet your friend pretty soon." You replied with a cold and sardonic tone before closing your fist, the man's lungs responding to your gesture by imploding in his chest. Like his colleague's arms did a few minutes ago, Damiano's whole body crashed against the floor with a thud.

Quickly, you shifted back your attention to your husband and kept giving him all your energy while ignoring the black dots that were dancing in front of your eyes, as well as the awful, unbearable stabbing sensation in your core. You were definitely hurting yourself by using your power that much but you didn't give a fuck. “Arthur, please.” You growled, a feeling of dizziness building up so bad that you didn’t even hear the hurried footsteps that were coming closer, nor the hoarse, familiar voice of your brother-in-law.

"FUCK!" You exclaimed. You were losing Arthur again.

The three bodies lay strewn like discarded puppets, their lifeless forms twisted and broken on the blood-flown concrete floor. The once clean backroom had transformed into a nightmare realm of gore and horror that made Tommy's stomach turn upside-down.

The Peaky Blinder's boss took two steps back and brought his calloused hand to his mouth, fighting against the urge to puke – and God knew it took him a lot considering the atrocities he witnessed and did during the war. His turquoise gaze scanned the room, which had turned into a slaughterhouse. A fucking pool of crimson blood. First, he saw the limp and distorted corpse of Damiano, whose eyes were open wide in horror despite him being dead and cold. The terror in his frozen facial expression left no doubt about how awful his last moments must have been: he had suffered, and he had suffered more than a lot. Then, he caught a quick glimpse of the second victim. With his eyeballs reduced to a reddish foul mush, the lacerations on his face, and the abnormal number of stabbing wounds, the mafioso’s body was so maimed that it looked disgustingly grotesque.

Then he saw Arthur.

"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God — Arthur!"

Amidst the chaos, where the air hung heavy with the acrid and pungent scent of blood, Tommy's screams echoed far away in the distance as you knelt there, eyes wide open and silent tears streaming down your cheeks, mixed with dark trails of ruined mascara.

Tommy reacted immediately and knelt near his brother with a panic so uncontrollable that it swept away every ounce of coldness and self-control he usually displayed. He slapped his brother's cheeks several times in a vain attempt to help him come back to a conscious state but it didn't work. Thomas Shelby's fist hit the floor with frustration as the feeling of powerlessness crept into his heart. He was losing another brother and there was nothing he could do to save him.

But you could.

"Heaven, d'ya hear me?"

You let out a muffled whimper, or at least you thought you did as your senses saturated with one unique sound: a relentless ringing that echoed in the hollow caverns of your mind. With each pulse of your heart, the sound intensified, threatening to consume the last remnant of sanity you had left. The world around you had seemed to fade into obscurity, your sight blurry and reduced to only one color: red. Vibrant red splattered everywhere, on the walls, and yourself but most of it was on the floor. In fact, the ground itself seemed to writhe beneath the weight of the corpses, as crimson rivers flowed freely, painting the concrete in shades of crimson that gleamed like freshly spilled paint.

“Oi! Listen to me!” Tommy’s powerful voice suddenly snatched you from your daze just enough time to catch your attention and plunge his turquoise iris into your Arctic eyes.

“I—I can’t. I can’t, I can’t...” You repeated in a whisper, just like a broken record, because your husband’s pulse was weakening again, blind to your exhausting and painful efforts. Arthur was dying, your baby was dying and the intensity of the pain you went through was so insufferable that all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and wait for death to make this nightmare stop.

Tommy rapidly shifted his body to be by your side, his sharp eyes focused, but softer than usual. “You’ve got this,” he whispered, meeting your panicked gaze. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” He pressed his hand firmly over yours, steadying the trembling fingers that worked to save his brother. His voice was low, gravelly, but laced with a quiet strength he tried to share with you. His grip was warm, grounding you in the chaos, his presence like an anchor. At that moment, the weight of the world felt momentarily lighter with him by your side. You replied to his help with a muffled sob.

"You've got this!" Tommy tried to keep you from falling apart but the sight of a thin trickle of blood slowly running down your nose worried him almost to death. He looked at you and he knew. He knew that you had given everything – every ounce of your energy to save his brother, your magic now drained. Your hand trembled, still pressed to Arthur’s chest, but the world around you was seriously fading to black.

Caught amid this Hell with Tommy by your side, you didn't hear nor feel Polly, who had found the crime scene.

"Oh lord please help us, oh Lord, oh Lord..." Polly cried, horrified by the bloodbath as well as by the sight of you clinging to Arthur's limp body. She had already lost one of her nephews and couldn't bear the weight of losing another one. Not her sweet Arthur. Not him,

"We're fucking losing her too!" Tommy exclaimed, "fucking help me!"

"Heaven!" She called, grabbing your shoulder and shaking you but all you did was scream one last time. A haunting and otherworldly wail that pierced the darkness. A sound so agonizing and inhumane that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of existence. It echoed across the building, carrying with it the weight indescribable of sorrow and despair as your arms tightened your grip around your dying husband.

The smell of blood hid Tommy's musky perfume that was tingling your nostrils. The deafening ringing in your ears covered Polly and her nephew's voice. Your breaths came shallow and weak, your body becoming heavier as darkness crept in. Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut. In one final movement, you collapsed beside your husband, your last thought a silent hope that he would live.

Or that you would at least die trying to save him.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language. gif by the wonderful @alicent-targaryen.

✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @lokigirlszendaya @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature

[natashaslesbian]

Little Prankster | N|M

Summary: You love playing pranks

Request: Blackhill x daughter pulling pranks on the avengers

Word Count: 839

Warnings/Content: one swear word

—————————————————————————

Maria knew from day one of her pregnancy that you were going to be an active child, you never settled once in her stomach. Natasha would spend hours running her hand over her girlfriend’s bump but still you were tossing and turning “come on sweetie mommy’s trying to rest” she would say to your growing form. Even from the womb you would play ticks on your mothers, kicking your mom’s bladder enough for her to think she’d gone into labour, when in reality you’d just forced her to pee her pants.

Natasha didn’t believe Maria the day she actually went into active labour, she was convinced the brunette had just had another accident. It was a few hours until the widow finally realised you were on your way and she managed to get her girlfriend to the hospital just in time. The doctor said it was the quickest labour she’d ever witnessed, clearly you were very excited to join the world. You screamed the hospital down when you arrived, but to your moms, it was the best sound in the world.

You grew quickly in the avengers tower, always causing some kind of trouble. You were influenced heavily by your uncles, particularly Clint and Tony. You were a pawn in their prank war although you didn’t mind placing a whoopee cushion on Bruce’s chair. The tower was always filled with the sound of your laughter as you figured out a new way to wind up your family. Your best trick was the day you managed to call all of the avengers to a meeting then repeatedly changed the location from Tony’s laptop - he’s still not sure if he’s forgiven you for all the smack he got for that one.

Your moms weren’t the biggest fan of your pranks, however they couldn’t deny the fun they would have when you’d come running to them to help you with your sneaky ways. Natasha won’t ever forget the day you and her were hiding in the wardrobe, waiting to scare Maria when she came back from a run. “Shhh mama, you need to be quiet. No giggling!” You said with an adorably angry pout “sorry sweetie, I’m ready I promise” the redhead had said.

You smiled up at Natasha when you heard your mom enter the bedroom, the two of you knew the first thing she would do would grab some fresh clothes. You jumped out of the darkness as soon as Maria opened the wardrobe doors, your mom’s screams could be heard through the tower. “Oh you two!” Your mommy sighed as you tickled your stomach. “Sorry babe, I just couldn’t resist” Natasha laughed. “I’m so getting you back for that!” Maria laughed as well.

It was a week later when Maria came to you with her idea for getting back at Natasha, despite everyone knowing you were the true mastermind. Your eyes lit up at the chance to pull a new prank. You snuck into mamas office with precise movements, Maria following slowly behind you. “Ready baby, up we go” your mommy said as she lifted you up towards the ceiling fan, helping you too tie the balloons to the boards. “I’m done mommy” you said when you were satisfied with your work. “And now for the glitter” Maria said, you giggled as you watched her careful pour the tubes of sparkles on top of the fan.

“Mommy, mama’s coming I hear her!” You said when you heard the faint sounds of Natasha yelling at Tony about something. The two of you shuffled around in the dark, waiting beside the switch for the ceiling fan. “Next time I’ll decode Jarvis Tin man!” Your mom yelled just outside the door. You held back your giggles as you watched Natasha enter her office, you pulled on Maria’s shirt giving her the signal. Your mommy huffed a breath of relief at finally being alone as she turned on the light, at the same time Maria switched on the fan. “What the fuck!” Natasha yelled in surprise as Balloons fell from the ceiling and it began raining glitter.

“Language mama!” You laughed as you came running out to dance in the waterfall of your sparkles. Natasha sighed in relief when she realised she had just been pranked by her two favourite girls. “I’m sorry sweetie, you scared me!” She giggled. “Yay” you cheered. “I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap” Maria joked, coming to kiss her girlfriend “then I’ll help you decode Jarvis” she smiled. “Tony’s just being Tony” Natasha said.

Your moms watched as you continued to hold your own little party in the puddle of glitter. “This is gonna take forever to clean up” your mommy sighed with a wide smile “I know, but I just couldn’t resist” Maria said. “You know these pranks are only gonna get worse as she gets older right?” Natasha asked. “Yeah…but could we ever really be mad at her?” Maria said as she and your mommy looked back at you. “No. Never” Natasha agreed.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Thank you for reading!

- Astara Bell

—————————————————————————

[Taglist]

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @hatergirl-69

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sorry I never saw the rules! Could I please request Rio with prompt 3 & 8? ♥️

Hi love, yes, you can! It's one prompt per request, so I chose prompt 3 for you :)

“I’ll wait out here all night. I ain’t leaving until you listen to what I gotta say.”

Resting your head against the window as you look down to the street below, he looks back up at you with resolute determination. Even six floors up, you can see it in his face.

You don't want to give him the opportunity to make upon that with words, though. It'll only be more lies.

Getting involved with a smooth-talking, handsome gangster wasn't ever part of your plans, and it wasn't ever a good idea either. You knew right from the start he'd play you, just like he does everyone in his life. People serve a purpose for Rio or they don't. He always decides when they don't.

Except this time.

"Come on, darlin'," he calls, shaking his head as he bites his lower lip, an action that always sends your insides to goo. "I know I've been bad to you, but I'm sorry. If you don't let me in, I'll just tell you what I gotta say out here, let your neighbours hear it, too. I don't care, just as long as you do."

The prickle of inquisitiveness sparkles deep in your belly, your heart fluttering in wonder at what it is he has to tell you. Against your own resolve, you find the words tumbling from your lips as soon as you slide the sash window upwards, leaning out into the cold night air.

"And what the fuck do you have to say that you could possibly think I'd want to hear, huh? After all your fuckery, Rio. It better be good."

He chuckles softly, eyes glittering. "It is, mama." He pauses, smiling a smile you've never seen before, one of earnest hope, none of his ego reflected through it, just a man there without the armour of his insufferable self-conceit. "I love you."

Your reply is shrill, disbelieving. "What?"

"You heard," he shrugs. "I love you, baby girl. You're the best thing to ever happen to me, and I know I ain't been good to you. Let me in, though, 'cuz I gotta start proving it. Also, my balls are freezing off."

You can't help the snicker that sounds in a soft snort, shaking your head and closing the window, moving to buzz the door open. Letting him into your apartment is one thing, but can you truly let him into your heart?

From that first night, he lives up to his promise, the heat of his love warming through the winter chill, showing you that he's capable of being something different to what you've seen.

He never stops showing you either.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

angel & devil!steddie 101

an intro to the au

here is a comprehensive little breakdown of this AU. this may contain spoilers for some of the stories.

 devil & angel AU masterlist | masterlist | join my taglist 

what kind of monsters are they? in short, they are the devil and angel on your shoulder, except they aren’t tiny guys literally on your shoulders, they’re normal size and just hang around you. steve is your guardian angel and eddie is your guardian devil.

angel and devil, so like heaven and hell? nope. they may be called an angel and devil, but they aren’t that kind. they’re just monsters, not the ones connected to various religions. 

where are they from? they’re from another realm, one that i imagine to be pretty dark and barbaric. 

why are they your guardian angel and devil? every human has them. where they’re from it is a job, so this, being your guardian, is their job

are they stuck with you? kinda, but they can pop back to their plane of existence though because that place is out of your world's time and space, when they bamf away no time passes for you. they could go and be in their own world for hundreds of years and then pop back to you in the very same moment they left you and to you it would barely even seem like they flinched.

how old are they? fucking ancient.

why can you see them? aren’t they usually invisible? yes, they are usually invisible, but the reason why you can see them is because you’re their true love. it’s a tiny bit complicated, but i’ll try to keep the explanation short: they, as these immortal creatures, can’t normally feel love and when they finally do, that is a warning sign that they’re gonna die because they’re now tethered to their soulmate and are gonna die when they do. it is explained more in this fic.

how do their tentacles work? they’re smooth in texture, they aren't attached to them, they can just summon them into existence and control them. do you know the dnd spell grasping vines? that's kinda the vibe/mechanics I imagine. 

can they reproduce with reader? nope. creating new lives works differently for them. i imagine perhaps it's some sort of magical ritual to create more angels and devils, maybe they are hatched in big old eggs?

steve harrington

angel

tentacles: see-through, sparkling, silver and gold glitter, kinda like a snow globe. they are summoned from light sources. 

his angelic features flare up more under intense emotions

scars on his back where wings can pop out

mind control/hypnotic powers 

eddie munson

devil

tentacles: dark, inky, like ferrofluid. they are summoned from dark and shadowy places. 

his demonic features flare up more under intense emotions

little horns 

split tongue

black eyes

illusion magic, like little shadowy things

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble