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briefinquiries · 3 months ago

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Tyler Owens x Reader: I Choose You

Request: Anonymous said: "jealous tyler or jealous reader would be interesting to read 👀"

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: none!

A/N: not sure how i feel about this one but I gave it a go and wanted to make sure I posted!

Tyler tells himself that he’s over thinking… maybe even reading too much into things.

But God, he swears he isn’t imagining the way that you and the reporter he’d agreed to let tag along for the next week naturally interact with one another with such ease.

Tyler is not a jealous person– he’s confident and secure and he trusts you. Jealousy is petty and it’s stupid. And Tyler’s been trying his whole life to prove to himself and everyone around him that he’s not stupid.

Tyler has a loose shock to repair before the storm they’ve been tracking rolls in later that day. He’s currently laying on the dirt at the rest stop they’ve pulled in, with a wrench in his hand. Dani’s shining their flashlight for him, and it’s important he stays focused. And he tries… really, he does.

But Tyler looks up just as the reporter laughs at a joke you’ve made. And then, he reaches out to touch your arm for the added effect. Tyler nearly drops the wrench he’s holding on his face at the sight.

“Easy, T,” Dani says, studying him closely.

He takes a deep breath before looking back towards the truck.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Dani asks, kicking his shoulder gently with their boot.

“Nothing,” Tyler grumbles in a tone that screams there is absolutely something wrong. Thankfully Dani doesn’t push.

…

Throughout the rest of the week, Tyler tries to talk himself down whenever jealousy rears its ugly head. He keeps telling himself that he’s being irrational– you’re not flirting with the reporter everytime you walk with him into the gas stations they stop at, or offer to ride with him in the van instead of Tyler’s truck, where you normally sit. You’re just trying to be friendly… make him feel at ease.

But did he really have to look at you that way while you studied the GPS monitoring system? Or share his fucking cookies with you when everyone ate lunch in the field? And did you have to laugh so loudly at every single joke he made?

Tyler finds out on the second night he’s tagging along that Henry’s a fucking Columbia grad on top of a stupid self-proclaimed comedian. The two of you are sitting around the fire talking about graduate degrees when Henry turns towards him.

“Did you two meet at school then?” Henry asks.

Tyler smiles, but instead of warmth it’s laced with sarcasm. “Nope, I don’t have one of those fancy degrees, Henry. In fact, none of us but her do.”

Henry turns back towards you and proceeds to ask more questions about your time studying meteorology at the U of A. Meanwhile, Tyler is left to simmer in his own self pity, wondering if it bothered you that he isn’t educated like Henry.

Tyler has to spend the rest of the week fighting the urge to make it known you’re his– he’s had thoughts of keeping a permanent hand planted on your waist right in front of Henry. Maybe if he pulled you in for a kiss a little more often, and really claimed you as his, this guy would back the hell off.

But Tyler quickly shakes away the thought.

Because claiming you like an object is stupid, and Tyler is not stupid.

…

Tyler grabs you a coffee from the nearest gas station and brings it back to the motel because he’s really trying to move past all this shit. You’re sitting with Lilly and fiddling with the drone when he tries to hand it to you.

You offer him an appreciative smile that warms his entire chest. Tyler’s definitely been overreacting, because you’re looking at him with such love and admiration in your eyes.

“Thanks, but I’ve already had some today,” you say, crushing every hope inside of him in an instant. “Why don’t you give it to Dani? They take their coffee the same as I do.”

“When did you have time to get coffee?” he asks, trying to play it cool.

You reply so simply, like the words don’t slice right through his heart. “I didn’t, Henry brought me one.”

Tyler’s jaw tightens. It’s a gesture you don’t notice, because you’re too busy focusing on the drone half in your lap.

What you do seem to notice, is the way he scoffs. It makes yours and Lilly’s heads both turn.

But before you can reply, Tyler’s already walking away. He clutches the coffee firmly in his hand and without a word, drops the full cup in the trash can outside the motel.

…

Tyler has to remind himself that he’s not angry.

At least not at you.

You and him have a great relationship. He trusts you and that’s all there is to it. Whether it’s Henry or whoever else– you never gave Tyler a reason to be worried.

But Tyler doesn’t like the way seeing you with the reporter makes him feel. Because at any moment, you could leave him for someone with a more respectable career– someone with fair skin and button up polos who just looked like they had their shit together. Someone with a college degree… someone a hell of a lot smarter than him.

Seeing you with him made Tyler feel vulnerable, like he had something to lose– because he had everything to lose.

…

The crew spends another week chasing in Oklahoma. The season’s winding down, but they still managed to catch two EF0s and an EF1.

Tyler’s been avoiding you for most of the week. He’d offer the truck space to Boone and Lilly, he’d sit next to Dexter around the fire at night… hell, he would hardly even look at you.

You turned down his coffee earlier in the week. Only after the fact did you realize that you should have just taken the damn thing. You understand that rejecting him after he went out of his way to do something nice for you hurt his feelings… But you can’t understand how that turned into an entire week of the silent treatment.

On numerous instances, you try to approach him. But he always has somewhere to run off to.

“I gotta help Dani with the van’s oil change.”

“I gotta see if Boone got the footage we need.”

“I gotta give Dexter a hand with the radar.”

You’re getting sick of it.

You try to distract yourself for the rest of the week– you ask Lilly to explain more about how to work her drone, you keep on top of the radar– looking for forming storm cells, and you try to make the reporter Tyler had invited along for the week feel welcome.

Henry’s nice– he’s completely new to storm chasing and has loads of questions all the time. You find it slightly annoying that he’s so interested in Tyler… but you get it. And even though you’re a little irritated with Tyler for your week-long silent-treatment sentence, you still want him to sound as good as possible in the article, so you talk him up every chance you can.

You know that this lack of communication can’t last. And the second Henry goes back to Boston to write his piece, you plan to corner Tyler and force him into telling you what the hell you’d done wrong. But until then, you don’t want to cause a scene. So, you sit back, spend more time talking with Henry about Tyler, and try like hell not to lose your mind.

…

It’s more for his own sanity than anything. It’s like seeing you with Henry has caused this sudden realization to pop into his head… You can do better– and honestly you deserve better than him. The thought is all consuming. It makes focusing on anything else incredibly difficult.

“You gonna tell us what the hell is up?” Lilly asks one day.

Tyler’s currently standing in the bed of his truck, tinkering things that didn’t really need to be fixed just to stay busy.

“What do you mean?” he replies without looking up.

“I mean are you going to tell us why you two love birds haven’t spoken in like three days?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler notices Boone glancing his way with an expression on his face that says he was wondering the same thing.

“We’ve spoken,” Tyler says dismissively.

“Telling her you don’t have room for her in the truck doesn’t count,” Lilly retorts. “C’mon, seriously, Ty. What’s wrong?”

Tyler sets his tool down and looks down at Lilly. “Nothing is wrong.”

Lilly rolled her eyes. “Okay, well are you sure she knows that? Cause Dani and I saw her crying in the bathroom.”

Tyler lets out a long exhale– the thought of you upset instantly filling his insides with sorrow. But the thought that he was the one to make you upset is even worse.

“I know it’s not my business,” Lilly adds. “But I’ve been watching you give her the silent treatment all week, and that’s not going to fix anything. I know Henry’s still here and it’s been a crazy week–”

Tyler can’t help the scoff that escapes his lips at the mention of Henry’s name.

Lilly pauses before a look of understanding washes over her. “You’re pissed that she’s been hanging with Henry.” She says it as a statement instead of a question.

“I’m not–”

“I’ve known you for six years, don’t even try to deny it. You are– you’re jealous, aren’t you?”

With his lips pursed in a thin line, Tyler raises an eyebrow at her. “Maybe I am. Does that make you happy? Is that what you want to hear?”

Now it was Lilly’s turn to scoff. “Of course it doesn’t make me happy. You’re being an idiot.”

“What?”

“I said that you’re being an idiot,” Lilly says, annunciating each word insultingly.

“Yeah,” Tyler nods. “I’m well aware that I’m an idiot, but thanks for reminding me.”

“I said you’re being an idiot, Tyler. Not that you are one. Now stop sulking and fucking listen for once in your goddamn life.”

It’s so out of the ordinary for Lilly to snap that Tyler actually does shut his mouth.

“You invite a reporter on the road with us and then you don’t give him the time of day to answer any of the questions he has. You’re short and curt and to be honest, kind of fucking rude anytime he asks you anything. Y/N is being polite– and she’s hosting the guest you invited along. So don’t fucking blame her just because you’re insecure.”

Tyler can feel the anger rising in his own chest, he wants to get defensive– to snap back at Lilly. But deep down, he knows she’s right, so he stifles any comebacks and instead hangs his head.

Lilly sighs. “You’re not an idiot, Tyler. So stop acting like one.”

…

After letting Lilly’s words really sink in, Tyler decides that she’s right. For the first time all week, he’s motivated to actually talk with you and make things right.

Or at least he is right until he sees Henry approaching you in the parking lot. He’s too far away to hear what Henry has to say. But he’s not so far away that he doesn't see the folded up piece of paper that he passes you.

In an instant, everything Lilly had said– along with all the things he’s said to convince himself he’s been overreacting flies away with the wind. Because Henry just gave you his fucking phone number.

Tyler turns– needing to get as much space from whatever exchange he just witnessed as he possibly can. In a few, long, angry strides, Tyler reaches his truck and climbs inside. In the distance, he hears Lilly call after him. But he pretends he doesn’t hear. Instead, he slams the door shut, starts the ignition and drives away.

…

“Where’s he goin’?” Boone says just as you approach him and the rest of the crew.

“Dunno. He didn’t say anything to you?” Dani asks, turning towards Lilly.

She shakes her head, eyes squinting against the bright sun.

“What the hell is his problem?” you say frustratedly, biting back tears.

Stupidly, you’d let yourself get your hopes up earlier in the day when Tyler had offered you a small smile over breakfast. You had thought that maybe things were alright, and that he was finally over whatever had been bothering him so badly.

But now you’re standing in the cloud of dust he just left behind after taking off in his truck without a word to anyone and you know that isn’t the case.

“Here I was thinking I helped last night,” Lilly says under her breath.

You snap your head in her direction. “You talked to him?”

She shrugs. “I tried to.”

“Did he say why he��s been so upset?”

Lilly hesitates. And truthfully, you understand why. Everyone here was Tyler’s friend first. You were the last to join the crew– inducted into the group just by being Tyler’s girlfriend. They have no obligation to be loyal to you over Tyler.

“Forget it,” you say defeatedly, turning away as soon as you feel the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes. “It doesn’t even matter.” With that, you make your way towards the RV, painfully aware of everyone’s eyes trained on you the entire way.

…

Tyler drives to the nearest gas station, desperate for space to clear his head.

He knows he’s being dramatic and irrational at this point, but if he stayed at that rest stop another second, he didn’t know what would come out of his mouth. He really really had to get it together. But he can’t escape the fear inside of him– the one saying that meeting Henry helped you recognize that you could do so much better than him.

And now you had his phone number, to reach out whenever that realization hit.

Why wouldn’t you be interested in Henry? He’s got a goddamn master’s degree from Columbia, he writes articles for the Globe, works out every morning before they go chasing– apparently makes hilarious jokes…

Tyler rests his forehead against the steering wheel and groans.

…

Tyler’s gone for an hour. But when he finally parks the truck back at the rest stop, he hasn’t shaken the sinking feeling inside of him.

In a preemptive attempt to avoid questions he had snagged a bunch of snacks from the nearest gas station. If you ask where he’s been, he can just say he had a hankering for potato chips and call it good.

Except, you don’t even look at him when he gets out of the truck. Boone’s got corn hole set up in the dirt. It looks like Boone and Henry versus Dani and Dexter while you watch. He only watches for a moment before bringing the bag of snacks into the RV.

Secretly, Tyler’s been simultaneously excited for and dreading the end of the week. He’s excited for Henry to leave and excited to sleep in his own bed. But he’s dreading being back in your shared house. It’ll be the first time the two of you are forced to be alone, and he knows he’ll have to find the words to describe what he’s been feeling.

But apparently Tyler’s stupid, because he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling.

All he knows is that he doesn’t want to lose you. And seeing you with Henry makes him feel like he’s about to lose you. Tyler doesn’t know how to say that to you without coming across as a total lunatic.

…

You don’t want to cause a scene at the rest stop. But the minute you see Tyler head for the RV, you’re out of your seat and beelining it towards him while the rest of the team is distracted.

As soon as you hoist open the door, you find him hunched over the fridge, grabbing a water bottle.

“What the hell?” is all you can manage to blurt out. You’re fuming and on the verge of tears. But you can’t help it– Tyler’s silent treatment has just about pushed you to the edge.

Tyler whips around at the sound of your entrance… and maybe it was a little dramatic– but you need to get your point across.

There’s a long pause while Tyler’s eyes study you.

“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me all week?”

You’re met by more silence.

“This is ridiculous, Tyler. Will you just talk to me?”

Finally, Tyler scoffs, “The reporter gave you his number, right? Why don’t you talk to him? I’m sure he’d love to talk.”

In an instant, a wave of understanding washes over you. But it isn’t overshadowed by the anger you feel.

“Are you serious right now? You’re jealous of Henry?”

He shuts the fridge before cracking open his water bottle dismissively, ignoring your questions.

“Tyler, are you forgetting that you’re the one who invited him with us this week? I mean, did you think he was just supposed to sit back and observe? He’s a reporter, of course he’s going to have questions… Questions that you were way more qualified to answer, but you were too busy being a jerk all week to answer any of them. So I did it for you–”

“I never asked for you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to– I did it for you!” you cry. “I did it so that he’d write you a good story– because you deserve that.”

“Oh, how convenient. So you two just get along so well for my sake then?” he says.

You exhale sharply. “Are you kidding me right now? We’ve spent the last week talking about you! I’ve been talking you up– telling him stories about what you do– how good you are at what you do– all the people you’ve helped–”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Yeah right,” he scoffs.

You pause, anger slowly melting away at the realization that he genuinely didn’t believe anything you were saying.

“Tyler,” you say seriously. “There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Henry. I’ve been answering his questions and telling him how fucking brave and generous and smart you are–”

“Don’t patronize me,” he snaps, voice cracking just slightly. “Just forget it, it doesn’t matter.” He sets his water bottle on the counter before moving to step by you.

“Tyler stop–” you say, reaching for him. But he’s too quick. He reaches the door before you’re able to stop him.

“Will you please stop walking away from me!” you blurt out frustratedly, tears forming in your eyes. “You’ve been running from me all week– I just… I just want to talk about this. Please–”

Tyler doesn’t turn to face you, but to your relief, he stops before opening the door.

“There is nothing happening between me and Henry, Tyler. I mean, I promise you, absolutely nothing– I… I don’t know how else to convince you. But there’s nothing going on. I’m not into Henry–”

“I know,” he says quickly, eyes squeezing shut.

You let your mouth fall open, confusion washing over you. “What?”

“I know there’s nothing happening between you and Henry– I trust you and I believe you.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “So why are you so mad at me?”

Tyler pauses and bites his lip before saying, “I’m not mad at you–” he tries to explain. “I just… I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“I don’t understand why–”

You sigh. “Tyler, you’re not making any sense–”

Tyler’s face twists in anguish. “Why aren’t you into him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s everything I’m not. And I mean– Seeing you with him– it just made me realize that you can do so much better than me,” Tyler says desperately, the pain almost palpable in his voice. “He’s got the fancy degree– he’s obviously smart–”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence, because the idea of anyone ever being better than Tyler was even more ludicrous than him being jealous in the first place. “Tyler, you’re smart–”

“I didn’t go to Columbia. I didn’t even finish my first year of undergrad.”

“I don’t care about any of that– you know I don’t–”

“Why?” he blurts out harshly, finally turning to look at you. “Why do you even want me when you can have someone like him?”

Tyler didn’t think he was good enough for you– and that admission broke your fucking heart. In an instant, all the reasons you loved Tyler flow through your head. There’s so many, you can’t even keep up.

So instead, you reach into your pocket and pull out the note Henry had given you just hours earlier– the one Tyler apparently saw him give you. He watches as you unfold the piece of paper, quickly revealing that it’s not a phone number.

“It’s his mom’s cookie recipe,” you explain. “The ones you refused to try. I talked to him about how you have a sweet tooth, and I said how much you love chocolate chip cookies, so he wrote it down for me. I thought I might be able to make them for you when we got home. Because I love you– and I love doing things that will make you happy. Because that’s what you do for me– you make me happy. All the time, just by existing.”

You watch as the realization washes over him.

You sigh. “Did you ever stop and think about how I feel the same about you?”

He pauses before looking at you questioningly.

“I mean, you’re you,” you say, gesturing towards him. “People adore you, Tyler. And rightfully so– but I’m always worried you’ll find someone better. But I don’t get hung up on it, because I trust you. I trust that you mean it when you tell me you love me and you choose me. And I need you to do the same for me, Tyler. I need you to trust me. Because I love you– and I always will.”

Tyler exhales, his eyes watery.

“Can you do that?” you plead.

To your relief, after a moment, he nods.

You don’t hesitate before closing the gap between you and wrapping your arms around his middle. You lay your head on his chest just as his arms wind around your shoulders in an attempt to make up for all the hugs you’ve missed out on this week. Because as much as you love chasing in Oklahoma or Texas, your absolute favorite place to be is at home in his arms.

“Cookie recipe, huh?” he muses above you, chin resting on top of your heads.

You nod. “I’m a horrible baker, but I was going to give it a shot.”

Tyler tightens his grip around you. “Well horrible baker or not, I love you and I choose you.”

You let your eyes fall shut and inhale the familiar, comforting scent of him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” you say honestly.

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens fic #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens x reader fic #tyler owens x reader imagine #twisters imagine #twisters fanfic #twisters fic

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kryptonitejelly · 5 months ago

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draco malfoy x reader (female)

the one where Blaise notices the Malfoy signet ring on your finger.

send draco requests.

The air smells like a combination of Draco and yourself, but mostly Draco - notes of citrus overlaid with the scent of tea and smoky wood. His sheets are cool against the surface of your skin, a sensation which lends a sharp contrast to the warmth of his bare chest against your cheek. You can feel one of his hands tracing patterns onto the skin of your back, as he other hand fiddles absently with your fingers which you have splayed out across his chest, a lazy post-coital haze surrounding you both.

“Who knew the Draco Malfoy would be one for cuddling,” you say teasingly your fingers tugging lightly on the long slender digits which are still tangled with yours. This isn’t the first time you’ve been here, your naked form flush against Draco’s in the same bed in which he had you legs hooked over his shoulder, his name a litany on your lips just mere moments ago.

“I’m not,” he scoffs with a roll of his eyes, as he manages to squeeze your fingers in his, a subtle battle for dominance among you both.

“Alright then,” you say both suddenly and with a calculated carelessness as you push your hands, fingers still tangled in his against his chest as you make a move to sit up. The covers slip easily down your skin with no clothes to act as friction. It exposes you, your nipples hardening upon contact with the cool air. You’e barely managed to get up when you feel the arm wrapped around you shift, fingers pressing more firmly into your hip to pull you back down.

“Where do you think you’re going,” Draco questions. He keeps his tone indifferent but the arm which has tightened around your body tells a different story.

“I’m sure Theo likes to cuddle,” you express matter of factly, keeping your expression innocent and it earns you an icy gaze from the blonde, cool grey boring in you. Draco observes you for almost a full minute before speaking.

“I’m sure he does not,” is what he finally says as a retort, his tone more disgruntled this time.

You open your mouth to disagree only to feel your back pressed flat into the mattress, Draco’s body now covering yours, his movements swift. You see the glint in his eyes as he lowers his head towards yours.

“Draco,” you breathe his name out. He doesn’t respond but presses his lips to yours. His hands find yours, fingers tangling together, pinning your hands above your head. You kiss him back, teeth nipping his lip lightly which earns your a low growl from the back of his throat. You can feel Draco hardening, his length pressed against your stomach. Your almost miss it with the competing sensations overtaking your body - lips, hands, skin, but your brain manages to register the feeling of Draco slipping cool metal from the signet ring on his last finger onto your index.

“Well, well, well - look who decided to join us,” Blaise calls out too cheerily, taking in the sight of you and Draco walking into the small sitting room in what had come to be Draco’s side of the Malfoy manor.

“It is surprising that I’m joining you in the sitting room of the Malfoy manor,” comes Draco’s reply which earns a good natured chortle from Theo and an eye roll from Pansy.

“Well, you can’t blame us for thinking that you two would be,” Blaise pauses for dramatic effect, “…otherwise occupied.” His unsaid words clear.

As with the rest, you and Draco had been childhood friends. However, years of tension that neither of you had acted upon had only cumulated more recently, and with Pansy’s blessing, into this, whatever it was. You both hadn’t yet spoken about it, the touching, sleepovers, sex, and there had been no outward proclamations to the world at large that either of you was anything other than single, and yet - it was no secret among anyone who knew either of you that you were both very unavailable.

“You mean book club?” You managed to keep a straight face as you question Blaise too innocently. It earns you a smirk from Draco and an amused chuckle from Pansy, your joke clear as you stop by the table facing the floor to ceiling windows which they are sitting by.

You reach across the table for a handful of blueberries from a bowl beside Theo’s elbow when you feel Blaise grab your wrist lightly, his fingers curling around, as he holds your wrist up in triumph, brandishing it around. You place your free hand flat down on the surface of the table, stabilising yourself as you lean forward into Blaise’s pull.

“I didn’t know book club members were all given the Malfoy signet ring,” he grins wildly at the discovery. The group’s gaze flickers to Draco’s hand, noticing the lack of the ring, usually a mainstay, on his the last finger of his left hand.

“If I join book club could I get one too?” Theo quips cheekily as you feel your cheeks start to heat both at your current plight as well as with recollection of what had been a subtle act of possessive on Draco’s part earlier.

“Zabini,” Draco says, tone still even as he reaches over, his hand curling around your forearm, tugging you out of Blaise’s grip, while ignoring Theo, “if she’s wearing the Malfoy signet ring don’t you think you should think twice before manhandling her?”

“Is she yours Draco,” Pansy adds to the chaos, an equally wide smirk on her face as Blaise lets your wrist slip out from his hold with ease while throwing you a wink.

“If you thought otherwise then you lot must be more dim than I thought ,” is all Draco says as he sits down. He lets you drop onto the chair beside him before reaching over to pull the piece of furniture and you closer to his side, the drag of it on the floor audible.

It earns him a whoop from Blaise, two hands thrown up in the air from Theo as he yells “finally”, and a laugh from Pansy who blows a kiss at you.

Draco slides his arm across the back of the chair, before looking at you brows lifted slightly, but his question is clear, you’ve never spoke about this and Draco wants to know - are you okay with this?

“I am,” you say as you lean forward to press your lips briefly against his. It only causes a louder ruckus at the table.

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hiiikiko · 1 month ago

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𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

[1: spider-man’s more awkward than i thought..”]

spiderman!ellie x reader | tlou m.list

synopsis: ellie is in your biology class, she’s the quiet teachers assistant, who also happens to double as your agency’s part time photographer, but you notice that lately she’s been acting strange..

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You never really noticed her before, to you, she was just the nerdy TA and your agency’s assistant photographer but right now, you needed her to be your saviour. You were failing your biology class, a side effect of how many modelling gigs you’ve picked up to pay your tuition but what good was paying your tuition if you couldn’t even pass your classes? That’s how you ended up practically begging Ellie to tutor you.

“God, please, Williams,” you sighed, taking her hand in yours, “I’ll do anything! I’ll even pay you or I could speak to the agency—.”

“I-it’s fine, Y/l/n, I can do it,” she pried her hand out of yours and nodded, “Just put in a good word with your boss, yeah?”

You practically jump when she says that, “Oh thank you, thank you so much! Um, do you have my number?”

Ellie bashfully nods, “Uh, yeah, I have all the model’s numbers..”

You nod, “Okay, cool! Let’s meet at my place tonight, yeah? Maybe around 6? I’ll send you the location and the door code.”

Ellie straightens up, “Uhh.. can’t do six.. can we do it earlier? Maybe 4..?”

She looks a little nervous about asking, her eyebrows are furrowed and she’s staring into your eyes, anxiously waiting for your response, “Oh.. yeah that’s cool!”

With that, you go your separate ways.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

At your apartment, you prep it for your visitor, shoving your clothes into your laundry hamper, putting out some snacks, straightening up your ‘living room,’ it wasn’t really a living room, given that you lived in a small studio apartment, it was really just a corner of your apartment with a couch, rug, and coffee table. Come on, it was New York and you’re a college student! This is as good as it’ll get for now.

Just as you’re folding a blanket, you hear a thud against the glass door leading out to your balcony. Just as you’re about to take a step towards it to inspect it.. ding dong! You jump a bit, forgetting all about the peculiar sound and making your way towards your front door. Peaking through the peephole, you see Ellie, she’s awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck, camera bag resting on her shoulder and her bangs messily in her face.

“Hey,” you smile and open the door to let her in, “Uh, make yourself at home.”

“T-thanks,” she nods, taking off her shoes and putting her bag down, “Nice place you got.. very, uh, homey. Oh, you a fan of Spider-man?” She nods at the Spider-Man poster on your wall and the Spider-Man t-shirt you’re wearing.

You giggle at her attempt at making small talk, “Thanks, can I get you anything? Water.. soda.. tea..? And, yeah, I know it’s kinda ‘fan girly’ of me but he’s just so fuckin’ cool, y’know? ”

“I’ll take a water,” she sits down on your couch, she looks really tired, not sleepy tired but she looks like she just fought Captain America.

“Shall we get started,” you place the glass in front of her and sit on the floor, the fluffy rug underneath aiding as a cushion, she nods and the two of you get to work.

The first few tutoring sessions went just like that, they were stiff and awkward but eventually, you realized that Ellis isn’t just a nerd that occasionally takes your pictures, she’s also really funny and is actually a really good teacher, she’s patient but doesn’t treat you like you’re dumb. She talks you through the formulas and makes sure you understand each chapter by quizzing you. She’s actually not awkward about this after all, she seems confident when she’s talking about cells. Watching her is nice, her eyes light up when she gets to a chapter that she is obviously interested in and a small smile falters on her lips. You never really realized it before but not only is she really smart, she’s also REALLY hot. Like, the way her veiny arms l flex when she reaches over for her glass of water, the veins flexing under her tattoo, the way she gazes at you through her eyelashes, and her smirk when she gently teases you for getting a problem wrong.

On one particular tutoring session, the rain pattered heavy against the thin glass on your balcony doors, creating a serene, almost cozy atmosphere. You and Ellie were sitting close together on the floor, a thick textbook resting on the coffee table in front of you, you could feel her breath against your neck and her voice was deep and raspy, almost like she’d been out in the rain earlier, and—

“Hey, you with me?” Ellie waves a hand in front of your face, “Hm, maybe we should stop here for now, yeah? It’s getting la— shit, it’s 7?!”

Your expression fell at the thought of her leaving, so you thought ‘fuck it’ as you decided to try and get her to ‘sleep over.’

Ellie scrambled to get on her feet, grabbing her bag and putting her battered converse on, “Oh, you’re leaving? But it’s pouring out there, wanna spend the night?” You graze her arm with your hand, you know it’s wrong to wanna sleep with your TA and your coworker but.. it had been so long since you got any.. and shit, how could you stop yourself now? You could feel her lean muscles underneath her baggy jacket.. you had no idea she even worked out.

Ellie’s eyes flicker to your hand, almost like she was considering it, “S-sorry.. I really gotta go, see ya Friday, yeah?”

And before you could say anything else to try and convince her to stay, she was out the door and you could hear her footsteps echoing down the stairwell.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“The nerve that girl has!” You throw your hands up, “She didn’t even consider it.. I mean, look at me! An up and coming model offers you the night of her life, you say yes!”

Your friends nod in agreement, “I just don—.” Just as you’re about to make another comment, you see Ellie come into the lecture hall, a band-aid on her eyebrow, ouch. What in the world could have happened between 7 p.m. and this morning?

Your friends turn to see what’s got your tongue, then one of them speaks up, “Haven’t you heard? She is always getting weird scratches.. a guy in my last class said that she tends to get in a lot of fights, crazy, right?”

Ellie gets into fights? You scoff at the idea, no way, she’s the most gentle person you know, you can barely feel her touch when she adjusts your hair during shoots, besides she’s way too awkward, you can imagine her trying to talk herself out of a beating, no way. Right?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

During that night’s tutoring session, you ask her about the bandaid, “Oh,” her hand darts to her forehead, “This? I, uh, got it when I fell off my skateboard..”

Convincing enough, right? But the tone in which she said it betrayed her statement, damn, she was a shitty liar.

“Hm,” you hum, still not completely convinced.

Ellie’s eyes rest on yours for a moment before going back to this week’s chapter. Usually, you could focus pretty well but right now all you wanted was to ask her more about the cut, right as you’re about to bug her again, she interrupts you with a question of her own. “Hey, uh, are you booked for that shoot on Sunday?”

You can tell she’s trying her best to act as nonchalant as possible but the way she’s nervously tapping her pencil against the textbook, the way her teeth gently bite her soft pink lips, and the way her eyes look like a deer caught in headlights betray her rather calm tone.

“Yeah, didn’t Regina tell you? She booked me a few weeks ago, something about how they want a ‘fresh young face’ or whatever,” you on the other hand, have mastered the art of being nonchalant, your voice calm and your eyes never leaving the paper of your textbook.

“R-really?” Ellie looks like a puppy who’s owner just shook a bag of treats before forgetting she’s supposed to be feign the whole ‘mysterious loner’ shtick, “I mean, uh, cool, cool. I’m gonna be there too, so, uh.. yeah.”

“Mhm,” the rest of the night carries on like nothing happened, Ellie continues teaching and you continue ‘listening,’ which was a little hard because your eyes kept drifting to her eyebrows again.

There’s something about her that you just don’t get.. if those rumours are true, which you highly doubt because look at her, she’s smiling while talking about RNA… be so for real right now, there’s no way BUT if it is true, why is she so gentle? Sure, she’s clumsy but her personality, she’s not hostile, hell, she blushes whenever you graze her hand. You know how the rumour mill works and it doesn’t just churn out baseless rumours, most have some kind of truth to them, so, how did someone make one about Ellie being so violent, you wonder.

“Uh, Y/n?” Ellie’s eyes move towards the balcony doors, “Can you, uh, please stop staring? You’re making me nervous..”

Your face erupts in a blush, the sweet red colour creeping up your neck, coating your ears, and finally, sweeping over your face, “S-sorry, just spaced out.. haven’t been getting much sleep, you know?”

Ellie nods, “Yeah.. I get it.. neighbours arguing a lot ‘nd stuff, right?”

You nod before realizing, “I never told you that.”

Ellie lets out a forced chuckle, “Uh, you did! Well, you didn’t tell me directly, just heard you say it… God, please believe me, I’m not stalking you, I just heard you say in passing, I swe—. Um. I should go, it’s getting late..”

“Huh, it’s only 6..?” You stand up with her, hoping she doesn’t leave so soon.

“Sorry, but I really should—?”

You grab onto her bulky jacket, tugging on the sleeve a bit, causing it to slip down her shoulder a bit and reveal her shirt underneath, huh, it looked like…

“Hey,” she blurts out and straightens out her jacket, “Wh—?”

“Oh my god, is that a spider-man tshirt?” You jump up, a smile creeping onto your face.

Ellie is washed with relief, “Uh, yeah! Gotta love the, uh, the guy, right?”

Nodding you say, “Totally! You should’ve said something sooner, I’m like his biggest fan, I even have an, allegedly, signed poster of him!”

Ellie’s ears burn bright, “R-really? Can I see it?”

You scramble to your room and pull out a small signed flyer, “See?”

Ellie gently holds it then she snorts and mutters, “Yeah, that’s not real.”

Your expression falters, “Wh-what? As if you’d know,” you pull it from her grip, your pride hurt and internally kicking yourself for spending so much on what could be a damn knock off.

“Oh, I think I’d know a thing or two about ‘Spider-Man’,” she chuckles.

“What does that mean,” you shoot her a glare.

“Oh, nothing.. I just, uh, met him” Ellie is scrambling for any way to cover up her loud mouth.

“No way, really?!” You jump up.

“Y-yeah, a few times actually.. back in my first year of college, he let me take some pictures of him a few times for the paper.”

You squeal and begin to bombard her with questions, “What was he like? Is he tall? How does he sound? Wh—?”

Ellie is patient with you and answers all of your questions, stretching she takes a look at the clock and jumps up, “Fuck, I really should get going, it’s rainy and the parade is tomorrow and that means more cr —.”

“More, what?”

“Uh, more cramped subways!” (Ellie is internally patting herself on the back for coming up with a word that begins with ‘cr’ instead of saying criminals.)

“Oh, alright.. see ya.”

Ellie is out the door quicker than you could say ‘your friendly neighborhood spider-man.’

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It’s the day of the parade and everyone’s spirits are high. Today, everyone is celebrating the election of the new city mayor. There will be a parade, drone show, and a market. Even you’re excited. You and your friends are making your way through the crowded streets when you bump into Abby, your ex. She must be here for her family, Abby’s family was widely renowned. Her dad isn’t just a highly esteemed surgeon, he’s also CEO of Oscorp and has very close ties to the city officials. You don’t really want any drama, so you pass by without giving as much as a nod.

“Hey, Y/n,” you hear through the crowds, a groan leaving your lips before looking up and meeting green eyes instead of blue ones.

“Ellie! What’re you doing here? I thought you would hate this kinda stuff.’

She holds up her camera, “Just takin’ photos, the Daily Bugle needs some front page stuff and they assigned it to me.”

“Oh, very cool,” you smile, “S—,” Just as you’re about to ask her if she wants to check out the stands with you, you feel a hand grip your shoulder, it’s Abby, fuck.

“Hey, Y/n, long time, huh? Wanna come see my dad, he’s been asking about you, oh, so has Manny.” Before you could reject her, Ellie is already walking away and Abby is steering you to the city hall building.

Abby drones on and on about her latest lacrosse victories and about her latest conquests, you just nod and try to space out. Normally, you wouldn’t go with her but you so desperately wanted to meet with her father. Being in premed meant you need as many connections as possible, so you were hoping Mr. Anderson could give you some pointers.

As the two of you round a corner you feel a rumble then hear a boom.

“What the fuck was that,” Abby stops and runs up the stairs, your feet are frozen in place but you quickly pull them from their cemented state and chase after her, “Abby, stop! It’s too dang—!”

Then came the second boom and suddenly, you felt the ground beneath you crumbling, fuck, this is it, isn’t it? Just as you’re about to accept your fate, you feel hands grip your waist and you’re flying..?

Through the dust, you can make out a red and blue silhouette. “I-it’s you!’

The masked figure looks at you, “Yeah.. i-it’s me.”

Uh, Spider-Man is a lot more awkward than you thought..

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portgasdwrld · 1 year ago

Text

📂Op men + them being needy

Featuring: monster trio

Warning: Suggestive, NSFW, fem!reader, established relationship, english isn’t my first language

Important: Pls read my navigation before sending/commenting asks. I would love to do them, but some of y’all don’t spend two seconds trynna make sure ur ask is fine with me first 🫶🏻

Note: Y’all voted for that one and ngl i wanted to write this one, so we all share the same slutty mind. Also thank you for 100 followers 🫶🏻lm super glad that y’all are enjoying my writing💕 This took sm more time than I thought it would. Ima make a separate one for Ace whenever I have time 😭

Luffy

Luffy was laying down on his bed as you were not too far from him trying out some make up in the mirror facing his bed. He had insisted to nap with you next to him, so he had his long arm stretched around your waist lazily as you were dolling yourself up.

You hear him stir awake from his sleep as he groans and yawns loudly.

-What time is it?

He drags in a sleepy tone as he rolls to the side still covered by the sheets.

-Mmm, you only slept for an hour. You can go back to sleep baby.

You answer him as you take a quick look at your watch. You knew how he loves to sleep after he ate and especially if there isn’t much to do.

-It’s hard when you aren’t laying down next to me, I like to hug you close to mee.

He whines a little. You see him rub his eyes and softly sit between his messy sheets through the reflection of your mirror.

-I’m sorry baby, I will come later when I’m done, okay ?

You say softly as you apply a new colour of your eyeshadow palette on your eyelid. He gets closer to you, now sitting not too far behind you. His pretty dark eyes shift between your products and your face.

- What’s this, it shines~

He asks curious while pointing at your highlighter. You chuckle and open it to swipe some on the tip of your finger. You thought it would be a fun time to mess a little with him, so you swap some on top of your boob to show him. You smirk and point at your breast, showing him that it make your skin shine, when applied.

-it’s to make your skin shine, you simplify it to him.

His eyes looks down and stare at your chest. His arms unwrap from your body and with his finger he touches your skin to see if it stains his finger too and it does a little.

-Waaaw, amazing! That’s so cool

You nod with a smile and a comfortable silence falls between you two. He watches you apply your eyeshadow using multiple techniques. He let his chin rest on your shoulder and his expression gets a bit serious. He stares at you through the mirror.

-Y/n ?

-Mmm?

-I’m hard, let’s fuck.

You choke a little at his sudden straightforwardness. You take few seconds to take in what he just said, before throwing a look behind your shoulder to stare at your suddenly needy boyfriend.

-Luffy… just how ?

You ask defeated. He has the habit to get hard so randomly, not that you complained because sex with him was always more than satisfying. Though, It was just somewhat inconvenient when you were already doing something.

-I can just jerk off while you finish off, he propose seeing your unsure expression. The way he said that was so laid back that it made you giggle a little. Doesn’t he know the effect he has on you??You smile fondly at him, but letting him do that would be more torture than anything else.

-Or you can cockwarm me while you finish off like we did last time.

The “last time” he was referring to, ended by you two fucking with your undone hair. You shake your head, you couldn’t say no to him. It was always tempting to have him inside of you.

He kisses the crook of your neck, dragging your name in a groan taunting you to give him an answer.

-I like the last idea more, you finally reply with a shy smile. You gaze at him through the mirror and you see him grin.

-Alright !

You stand up to throw away your panty on his bed as he stroke his dick few times before you sat on it. You both left a moan as the contact was made. You were never used at the deepness he could reach. Your legs weakly fixed your position on his laps.

-Is it okay ?

He asks making sure you were comfortable. You nod as you gaze back at him. He pecks your cheek, his brown hair slightly tickling you, before leaning his body back, now supported by his arms. The view you have is just so delicious, you are about to give up any plans your had on finishing your make up.

-Luffy, you are making this so hard for me I swear.

You let out shakily under your breath, because he clearly couldn’t stay completely still.

He laughs as he approaches his body to yours, his warm breath brushing on your neck, his eyes looks at you with excitement.

-Can I play with your boobs ?

-Luffy…

You whine almost pleading him to be kind to you and let you do your make up without so much distraction. No way you are going to hold back with him touching you like that.

-Pleaseee

-Ugh… fuck it.

I need to write a whole mirror fucking fic with him now🧎🏻‍♀️

Zoro

Zoro is going out of his mind. His usual cool and collected image is crumbling every time he breaths. His eye stare at your figure with a burning gaze. He wants you so badly right now, but it was lowkey hurting his ego to tell you directly how he felt (he’s in fact too shy, but he would never admit that to himself.)

You definitely noticed his behaviour during the day, when he let his hand rest a little too long on your ass when you hugged him or when he kept taking glances at your boobs peeking from the low cut of your shirt.

You didn’t want to give it to him so easily without him openly saying that he wanted you. It was no fun otherwise. So you teased him all day, acting all clueless to his advances. It was until he snapped and pulled you into his room late in the afternoon.

-You have been so fucking annoying all day. You really enjoy acting all dumb when you want to.

-I dont know what you are talking about?

You reply with an innocent stare as you unconsciously bite your lips quickly and look up to him. He groans as he climbs on top of you on the bed, his large and strong body towering you was already enough to make your head dizzy. He leans his face few inches in front of yours. Your nose filled up with the scent of his cologne.

-You want to keep playing this ?

- Admit it.

-Admit what ?

He gulps with furrowed eyebrows. You smirk and wrap your arms around his neck. You pull the green haired man closer teasing the proximity of your lips to his.

-Admit that you want me.

You whisper with the same smile glued to your lips. Zoro eye slightly widen but he presses his lips on yours without adding another word, but you are fast to push him away by pressing upward your hands on his chest.

-Come on, baby~ You can’t even admit something so little ?

You pout as you knew his competitive ass wouldn’t take it and he would eventually get frustrated, and maybe give up.

-I will treat you so well if you do, I just need to hear it~

You continue hoping it would cheer your shy boyfriend to speak the words. You know he’s not the best with expressing his emotions, but god it felt good to see him all tensed because he wanted to fuck you so badly. You travel your fingers up his neck, brushing fading hickeys you left on him few days ago.

You see him sigh as he straightens his upper body. You give him a confused look for a moment, but it disappears when his lips curve into his familiar smirk.

He let his body fall next to you and you feel his strong arm slide under your waist. He pulls you against him and with his other arms, he props your body on top of his. You sit not too far from his hips area. He places his hands on each side of your hips and he gives a light spank on your ass earning a small surprised moan from you.

-What are you doing? I thought I was clear babe.

You say while crossing your arms under your chest. He chuckles and push your hips on top of his bulge. You could feel he was starting to get hard.

-I want you, so be good now and ride me.

You smile happy to hear it finally from him, but he still found a way to make it an order, so it earned a small giggle from you.

-What’s funny?

-Nothing. I said I will treat you right, so let me take care of you.

You said while going down on him. You pulled down his pants to reveal his half hard dick. You took it in your hand and with your thumb you spread the precum all over his tip while giving it few strokes with your other hand. You give few licks to tease him a little, but you shortly after wrap your plump lips around his cock. He hiss as his fingers brush away the hair in front of your eyes that was blocking his view.

-Fuck, just like that

He groans as he places his hand on top of your head trying to make you take more of his length. You let him do as he wishes, as you wanted tonight to be focused on him. He pushes his cock until it was deep enough into your throat that it was painfully hitting the back of it. Tears were starting to form into your eyes as you look up at him. He leaves a low moan and let his head fall behind as he give a lazy thrust into your mouth. He let go of your head not trying to hurt you and you take that chance to remove it from your mouth and breath.

-Shit, you’re so big

You pant with a heavy breath as you stroke his dick up and down using your spit. He smirk at your compliment and you don’t let him reply as you dive his cock into your mouth once again, sucking harshly getting a loud groan out of his mouth.

You torture his dick like this for few minutes as you take him deeply into your throat and suck harshly on his dick by also teasing his slit with your tongue. He was a moaning mess and honestly it’s been a while since you saw him so vocal about the pleasure he was feeling, that it was soaking your panties.

You stroke him with both of your hands as your mouth was sucking his tip and with the help of few thrust, he came into your mouth. You swallowed everything with a funny face and flashed your tongue at him so he could see. You then removed your shorts and panties along with your top, leaving you naked on top of him.

-I should let you suck me off like this more often.

-Yeah, well if I didn’t have to beg all the time to have your cock, I would suck you even upside down.

You retort as you position yourself on top of his dick, ready to slide him in you. Zoro roll his eye at your comment, but he grabs your thighs tightly, anticipating the feeling of your pussy around his cock.

You chuckle seeing him waiting for you to put it inside of you, in silence. You lean and give him a peck on his forehead with a soft smile. Your boyfriends cheeks blushed as he gives you a bit of a “wtf” stare.

-So eager, are we baby?

Sanji

Sanji was smoking outside as his body was leaning against the railing of the ship. His fluffy blond hair brushed by the cold breeze of the early night. His gaze seems lost in a trail of thoughts that only him will know about. You smile to yourself when you finally find your boyfriend.

« It’s a cold night, but lucky me I have someone to cuddle to keep me warm » you say, startling him a little.

He smiles as he recognizes your voice immediately. Sanji doesn’t hide the way his eyes enjoy savouring the view of your body in this little black silk dress. It was his favourite. The dress is so short that he could just bend you over the rail and he would not only have a great view of your pussy, but he could also easily take you there.

Why was it so easy for you to drive him crazy ? Just you being such an effortlessly beautiful women was enough to make his thoughts foggy. It wasn’t too fair for his heart and his dick.

-You are going to catch a cold, my love. Come here.

He finally replies while opening his arms. You rush a little into his embrace, loving the way his body’s warmth and the mix of his cologne and the cigarette’s smog fill your nose and senses. He presses his body against yours and you let the back of your head rest on his chest. He wraps his arms around your shoulders after throwing his cigarette in the ocean.

-How did you find tonight’s dinner, chérie?

-It was delicious as always darling.

You whisper enjoying the tranquility on the boat for once. Sanji hums in response as he let his hairy chin slightly tickle your neck. His lips brush your ear as his warm breath tickles your neck.

-You know you make me a mad man when you wear this.

-Do I?

You answer with a chuckle honestly forgetting how your boyfriend had a particular liking in this night dress. He loves everything you wear anyways so for you it didn’t change much, but as he presses his dick on your lower back, you kinda get what he’s leading to.

You feel his lips move to your neck where he presses them, where he sucks and bites your skin, leaving proof of his love on it.

-I wouldn’t mind dessert at this hour

He mumbles as his arms find a rest now on your breast. He presses his hips closer to your body and you do him the grace of slightly grinding your ass against his bulge.

-What do you mean?

You ask him playing dumb. It was so fun to tease Sanji. He was always so enthusiastic whenever something concerned you.

-I want to fuck you, darling

He continues as his unwrap your body from his arms. His fingers slide down your waist to tease the hem of your short dress. He let them wonder beneath it, feeling the softness of your ass. A gasp left your mouth when his cold fingers press against your clothed core.

-I could just bend you over this rail and fuck you so good, hmm?

He pushes his digits under your panty and let his fingers get coated of your juices before letting them slide upward where he pinches your clit. A moan leaves your throat loudly and you quickly bite your lips to stop any more sounds to come out.

You two could honestly get caught at any moment that someone decides to exit their room, but the thought itself made you even more wet.

-S-sanji, we could get caught..

-I know, but I can’t help myself when you look this good. I want you so badly that I don’t care about the rest.

He retorts with a heavy sigh as he continues to play with clit. He then opt to dive one of his long fingers inside of you, catching you off guard. You try your best to keep any sounds in, but he was making it so hard for you when he was moving so fast.

-Fuck, Sanji. Please fuck me.

You whine as your body naturally leans on the rail. Sanji other hand pushes your lower back to create a curve that earn a groan from his mouth.

Your boyfriend closes the distance pushing now a second finger deeper inside of you. His pace is fast and precise, trying his best to listen to the way your body react to the spot he touches inside of you. Sanji does still keep an eye out in case someone catches you two though..

Hitting all the right spots and playing with your clits with his other hand, you feel your climax approaching. With a last thrust of his finger and some dirty word whispered, you cum all over his fingers, staining his black pants a little.

-You’re insane..

You let out as you try to catch your breath. He smirks and give you a back hug, leaving plenty of kisses on your necks and collarbone.

-let’s go back to our room, so you take care of me~

#one piece #one piece zoro #zoro headcanons #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece smut #vinsmoke sanji #sanji smut #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanjionepiece #zoro smut #one piece luffy #luffy one piece #luffy x y/n #luffy x reader #luffy x you #monkey d. luffy

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swordsandholly · 7 months ago

Text

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever

A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.

The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.

After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.

It is what it is. Life goes on.

The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.

“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.

You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.

The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.

“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.

It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“

“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”

You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.

“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”

“But I don’t-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”

Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.

It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.

It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.

They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.

“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.

“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.

“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”

“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.

“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”

“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”

“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.

“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.

“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.

John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.

Top dog gets the chew toy.

“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.

“Suits not your style?”

“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”

You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.

“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.

“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”

Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.

“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.

To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”

Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.

“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”

John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.

“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”

“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?

Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.

Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”

There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.

“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”

“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.

John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.

“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”

“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.

John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.

You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.

~~~

It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.

Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?

“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.

“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.

You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”

“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”

“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.

“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“

Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”

You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.

That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.

Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”

“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.

Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”

It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”

The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.

A promise.

It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.

“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.

“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“You just got here.” You murmur.

“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.

You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.

“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?

You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.

“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.

They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.

Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.

“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”

His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.

Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.

Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.

You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.

Cheeky bastard.

The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.

You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.

“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.

The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.

Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”

You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.

You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”

They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…

“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.

“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.

The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.

You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.

“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.

“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.

“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.

“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.

Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”

The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.

Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.

It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.

He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.

Fucking Christ.

Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.

An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.

“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.

As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.

“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.

You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.

“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.

“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”

You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.

Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”

Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”

You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.

“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.

Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.

All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”

That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.

“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.

He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.

“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.

Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”

He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.

“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”

All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.

“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”

The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.

“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.

Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.

Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.

“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.

“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.

It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.

You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”

You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“

“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.

You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.

Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.

“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.

“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.

“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?

“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.

“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“

“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.

You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.

So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.

There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…

You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.

You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.

That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.

“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.

“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“

“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”

“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.

“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.

You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.

“Y-you don’t have to-“

“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.

“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.

“Johnny behave himself?”

“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.

Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.

“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.

“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”

“You do.”

You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.

“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.

Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”

“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.

“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.

Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.

“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.

Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”

You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.

“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.

Oh.

Okay.

You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.

These men are going to be the death of you.

A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.

Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡

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solarmorrigan · 4 months ago

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Silly idea I talked about ages ago with @azure7539arts, inspired by a similar event my workplace hosts every year. Would minors be allowed to participate in such an event? Probably not! But then again, it was the 80s, who can say for sure. Anyway, it's my birthday and I'll post nonsense if I want to <3

“I need you to buy me.”

Eddie looks up from his notebook, effectively jarred from his campaign-plotting fugue state by Steve’s declaration.

Steve is standing at the other end of the dining table, staring at him expectantly.

“Y’know, this is the part where someone usually follows up their completely bonkers demand with an explanation,” Eddie says slowly.

“At the charity auction,” Steve clarifies. “I need you to bid on me, and I need you to win.”

Ah, yes, that weird Rent-an-Athlete charity auction the school runs every year; anyone on any Hawkins High sports team could volunteer to be “auctioned” off in order to raise money for said sports team, to spend a day at the beck and call of the highest bidder (within reason, supposedly). It’s generally restricted to students, but occasionally, prominent alumni are invited to participate – and Steve certainly fits the bill, especially after the story the government spun about his heroism in the face of “serial killer” Henry Creel last spring.

“And what, deny all those pretty girls a chance to get at you?” Eddie asks drily (he’d never turned up at previous auctions himself, but you could hardly avoid gossip in a school their size; it had usually been some cheerleader bidding with daddy’s money who won a date– that is, a day with Steve Harrington).

“It wasn’t always a girl who won,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest. “One time it was Mrs. Dalton – you know, the lady on the school board who lives on my block? I just spent the day doing yard work for her. She gave me lemonade. That was pretty cool.”

“Right,” Eddie drawls. “And I’m sure she definitely didn’t sit outside and stare at your ass while you were working.”

“She did not– she– I mean she was on the porch, but, like– she wouldn’t have– she’s, like, seventy, Eddie,” Steve splutters, and it’s all Eddie can do not to laugh.

“Older gals have needs, too, Steve,” Eddie says, giving in to a smirk. “So she was checking you out from the porch, huh?”

Steve goes red. “Shut up, that isn’t the point. I’m trying to ask for your help.”

“Right, right, your absolutely reasonable request for me to buy you at market. Why, again?” Eddie asks.

“The kids are planning to bid on me,” Steve says gravely.

Eddie blinks at him. “Okay?” he says, when no further explanation is forthcoming. “You basically do most of what they ask, anyway, so…?”

“Okay, believe it or not, I actually say no to at least half of what they ask me to do. I would literally never get anything done if I gave in to all their demands.” Steve jabs a finger at Eddie, who holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Anyway, this is all Henderson’s fault.”

“It usually is,” Eddie agrees, nodding sagely.

“He decided that he was going to bid on me and then use that day to finally make me play your nerd game with you–” Eddie snorts, and Steve shoots him a look, “but Wheeler doesn’t want me to play, so he said he was going to bid against Dustin and make me do anything but sit in on a session with you guys.”

“So let Wheeler win.” Eddie shrugs.

“No! I can’t let fuckin’ Mike win, he’ll probably make me do something even more ridiculous!” Steve exclaims. "He’ll make me play chauffeur for him and El on a date, or something, and he’ll probably include the stupid hat.”

“Wait, I thought El broke up with him,” Eddie breaks in.

“No, they’re on again,” Steve says absently, shaking his head. “Which is why Max has been in a bad mood lately.”

Eddie bites back the reflexive need to ask “How can you tell?”, going instead with, “I thought she and Sinclair were on again.”

“No, they are. That’s why no one’s been actively murdered,” Steve says.

“How do you keep track of all of this?” Eddie asks, squinting at Steve.

“It’s a natural skill. And we’re getting off track,” Steve says quickly. “Normally, I wouldn’t be that worried, because Dustin regularly blows his savings on weird science gadgets or whatever, but then Lucas and Will started taking sides.”

“This is getting very involved,” Eddie says.

“So you see why I’m stressed!” Steve insists, smacking a hand to his forehead (personally, Eddie thinks Steve is stressed for many other reasons, but he figures pointing that out just now won’t be appreciated). “Lucas is on Dustin’s side, and that kid does odd jobs like nobody’s goddamn business; he actually has shit saved up. And usually I’d have faith in him being more, like, sensible than to spend it all on this, but the little shit is really fucking competitive.”

“Wonder who he got that from?” Eddie mutters.

“Okay, we do remember that I’m not actually biologically related to any of these idiots, right?” Steve snaps.

“Well now we’re just getting into nature versus nurture–”

“Eddie.”

“Right, sorry, continue.”

“Well, Will took Mike’s side–”

“Shocking.”

“Right? But anyway, I don’t know if the kid has much saved up, but between him and Wheeler, they might be able to win.” Steve sighs, looking far more world-weary than Eddie feels the situation really warrants.

“You know you don’t actually have to do what they ask you to, right?” Eddie points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “If an auction winner complains to the school that the person they bid on didn’t fulfill their end of the bargain, they can get their money back. It’s a whole…” he waves his hand vaguely, “thing. Happened once when I was a sophomore; Deacon McNab. Lost a good chunk of change for the football team, and they vandalized the shit out of his car.”

“Ah, right. Forgot we went to school with literal psychopaths,” Eddie hums.

“So, I just need you to bid on me and win, so I’m not stuck wasting a Saturday on whatever the hell the kids are going to try to make me do. Or not do. Or– whatever,” Steve says.

“Okay, not that I don’t understand your predicament here, but I think you’re forgetting something kind of important, Steve,” Eddie drawls.

Steve’s brows draw together in question. “What?”

“I’m fucking poor.”

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t mean– no, I will give you the money, you don’t have to spend a dime, man, I just need you to get me out of this.”

“Why not have Buckley do it?” Eddie asks.

“That was Plan A, but she actually has a date that night, and it’s kind of a big deal, so I don’t want her to cancel,” Steve says. “But I assumed you wouldn’t be busy.”

“Wow, rude,” Eddie scoffs, and Steve sighs.

“Fine, sorry, I just really hoped you wouldn’t be busy.” Steve gives him the most lethal set of puppy dog eyes Eddie has ever seen, as if there had been any chance from the beginning that he’d be able to say no. “Please?”

Just for show, Eddie lets out a long sigh, falling against his chair and letting his head flop over the backrest like he’s deflating.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Steve groans, sounding so genuinely relieved that Eddie almost feels bad about how quickly his thoughts dip into the realms of the inappropriate. “Oh my god, I owe you.”

Eddie glances back up at Steve, tongue darting out to wet his lips almost unconsciously. “You know I’m not as easy to appease as a couple of fifteen-year-olds, right?”

Steve’s eyes drop for just a second—maybe down to Eddie’s lips, maybe not; who can say?—before he looks back up, cocking an eyebrow at Eddie. “I think I can handle it.”

Slowly, Eddie grins. “We’ll see.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve & the party #stranger things #solar wrote #this is very silly but I had fun writing it so I hope it's a fun short read #obviously Eddie does win the auction (surprisingly stiff competition; he may or may not end up throwing in a little of his own money #even though none of the kids are the top bidders at that point)#and then you can choose your own ending:#either Eddie chickens out and just asks Steve to play roadie for the band on their next gig night #but it works out in his favor anyway because he gets to spend the night watching Steve lifting and carrying and being supportive #while Steve gets to watch the band perform and is lowkey starstruck by Eddie and they smooch about it at the end of the night #OR; Eddie demands the same treatment Steve gave those cheerleaders who won a date with him back in the day #he's sort of joking but Steve takes him very seriously and takes him on a date so sweet and fun that Eddie is almost mad about #being swept off his feet by it #and at the end of the night Steve walks Eddie to his door and Eddie asks if the treatment ends here #or if Steve did anything... else for those girls #Steve; eyebrows raised: Are you asking if I slept with those girls for money?#Eddie; blanching: WAIT SHIT NO-#Steve: Nah I'm kidding. Come inside and fuck me #and Eddie does

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solbaby7 · 9 months ago

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Hi! Could you write one where the reader somehow ingests a magic aphrodisiac while out on a mission. And she is in a ton of discomfort but her mate (any male maybe rhys) isn’t able to get there quickly so he gives cassian or azriel permission to give her some relief until he can arrive ?? :) a little angsty but also sexy

Blurred Lines

pairing: rhysand x reader x az

warnings: swearing, boyfriend lets his best friend fuck his girlfriend, mentions of aphrodisiacs, probs typos

[ part 2 ] [ part 3 ]

—

You’d felt uneasy, stomach churning like curdled milk after inhaling so much of the suspicious purple powder that had been blown in your face. “It burns,” Your body stumbles into Azriel’s, fingers pinching at your nose as you tried to ease the tingle that was beginning to prickle behind your eyes and nostrils.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, piercing eyes scanning the crowd for the figure cloaked in a red so deep it was nearly black but not even his shadows find a trace of them. “We need to get out of here. Do you have it?”

The thrum of the pages hum in the satchel strapped tightly beneath your arm. It had taken weeks to even locate a trace of them, just barely realizing anything was missing from the Book of Breathings until Nesta discovered the tattered remnants of torn pages tucked in the book spine. “I have it.” It comes out slightly slurred, your vision distorting as the powder began to take effect. The uncomfortable heat begins in your sinuses, spreading like venom in your bloodstream until every inch of your body felt like it was pressed up against the crackling flames of a fire. “Whatever that was—it’s really potent.”

Azriel grips you close, shadows cloaking your whole body until he’s winnowed you a safe enough distance away to properly evaluate you. “Gods, your eyes.” You squirm under the warmth of his hands. A simple touch sending every nerve into a frenzy and you’re abnormally aware of the steady throb between your thighs.

Your heartrate spikes, fingers slightly unsteady when snatching for the dagger strapped to your thigh and once you see your reflection it falls from your grasp. Embedded in the natural color of your iris was a smattering of shiny purple dots. “What the hell was that stuff?”

“I don’t know.” Azriel’s worry only grows, eyes glazing over as he no doubt was relaying everything that had happened to Rhys—to your mate. The very thought of him has arousal pooling between your thighs but the pleasant tingle of pleasure that usually followed is nowhere to be found. Every muscle seized with stress, fingers digging into your hair to alleviate the pulsing pressure all over. “Just hang on,” He pleads, holding you close despite your discomfort but there’s no other choice but to winnow as close as the wards around the safe house would allow. “Rhys is on his way.”

The words barely register, sweat beading at your hairline and even with the temperatures slightly lower than usual, the heat refused to subside. It radiates through your clothes, micro particles of sparkling purple transferring from your leathers to Az’s the longer he had to support your weight.

You scramble away from him the moment the door opens, fingers frantically pulling at the buttons keeping the tactical gear in place until it’s left in a heap on the floor. Gods, the floor. So cool against bare skin and the momentary relief is too good to even notice the fact that you were so exposed, the thin straps of the flimsy undershirt slipping down your shoulder; the hem hiking up the length of your stomach.

Vaguely aware of the sounds around you, the floor barely rumbles as Azriel shifted through the space. It was a little cramped but big enough for a kitchen and a bedroom with a small bathroom tucked within.

Too soon does the cool fade away, pained whines follow and every brush of your fingers against bare skin is worse than most other tortures you’d endured. It’s accidental, the scrape of your nail against your nipple through thin material and the moan that rips free is more like a choked cry. Every move after that feels like another is in control of your body, forcing your limbs to move, willing your fingers to trail beneath the waistband of your pants and past the soft cotton of your underwear.

“I ran you a bath—“ The rest is abruptly cut off, every single muscle in Azriel’s body going stiff at the sight of you sprawled out on the kitchen floor with so much skin on display. Golden eyes catch on the heaving fullness of your breasts spilling from the confines of your top, the frenzied hand tucked in your leathers and Azriel physically stumbles back when the intensity of your scent fully hits him. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Words slur together, frustrated tears falling down the curve of your cheeks and you’re too caught up in the temporary solace to be embarrassed about the crude behavior; the obscene squelching between your thighs. “I’m so sorry, I just can’t help it—hurts so bad.”

Azriel doesn’t reply, stunned in place and distantly he recognizes a familiar pressure in his brain. A feline voice laced with worry snapping him from his stupor. “Please tell me you’re close.”

“I need more time, Az.”

“She doesn’t have it,” The sight is pushed at Rhysand at warp speed, the sounds of his mate filling the conclaves of his mind.

There’s a pause, one that lasts a beat too long and Azriel begins to catch on to the plan his High Lord was brewing. “Then, help her.”

“Rhysand.”

“I trust you,” Rhys says a little softer, even if the words are laced with that territorial gruff. “Help her. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He can’t move, even if his shadows slink forward at the permission given. They’re cautious before touching you, just barely ghosting over the curve of your shoulder and the whimper that it pulls makes Azriel’s stomach clench. You lean into the cool touch that comes with the wisps of darkness, back arching at the feeling. “Where’s Rhys?”

“He’ll be here, he just needs a little more time.”

More tears fall, even if you do nod in understanding but your thoughts muddy together, unable to differentiate one sentence from the next as you forgo pants altogether. “I can’t wait anymore, Az. Please.” You’re not sure what you’re asking for exactly but you’re positively certain that your fingers aren’t enough. “Please touch me.”

He says your name so softly, crooning soothing words and tucking your hair away from your forehead. “Are you sure?”

You don’t answer with words, just eyes half-lidded and grip surprisingly gentle when grabbing for his wrist, guiding his hand to the sodden mess between your thighs. Azriel can’t fight his reaction to the slick arousal coating his fingers through your lacy underthings, head dipping back and eyes daring to close—savoring the feel of you. “I need you to make me feel better,” You don’t even sound like yourself, tone whiny and desperate as you hike your shirt over your head. “Please, can you do that for me? Please, please, please.”

Your hips buck up into the pressure of his fingers against you, squirming uncontrollably as he slowly pulls the fabric to the side and the first swipe of skin on skin is almost enough to bring you over the edge. “Alright,” Your name on his lips sends your nerves into a frenzy, hips wiggling just enough for one finger to sink into your cunt and the relief is instant. “I’ll make it better, just breathe for me, okay?”

It’s a simple request and yet still you have difficulty obeying as you chase the icy chill that quenches the burning inferno. Another finger follows the first and Azriel can’t tear his eyes away from the way your spine curves with each delicious drag of them against your walls. “Yes,” It comes out in a near hiss, teeth biting at the fat of your bottom lip as you grope at your chest. “Feels so fucking good.”

Maybe Azriel indulged just a little, taking extra time exploring the spots at had your eyes going lazy and when moans shift into breathy whines—Azriel submits completely. The taste of you on his tongue was unlike anything than he could’ve imagined, warm and sweet against his tongue like cookies dipped in warm milk. A string of swears tumble from your lips so fast he briefly wonders if it’s another language. He hums all the same, low vibrations sending goosebumps along your flesh and shadows take the place of your hands. Kneading at supple breasts and tugging on pert nipples until the onslaught of pleasure has you tensing beneath him. “That’s it,” He mutters against your sex, acutely aware of the throbbing erection straining against the binds of his leathers. “Feel better?”

Your body answers for you, tugging him close enough to feel the hardness of his length against your pussy. “Need more, Az.” One long drag against the stiff material and he’s groaning into your neck, holding up his weight on two strong arms and you can’t help but think about them holding you up against a wall, fucking up into you until your lungs gave out.

Azriel stares down at you, eyes dark and lips parted as if he could see exactly what filthy things were flashing behind your eyelids. “Relax, pretty girl.” Shadows tug at the binds holding his pants in place, dragging them down, down, down. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, arousal pooling between your legs with a slutty squelch. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

#acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x you #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #high lord rhysand #acotar azriel #azriel x reader #acotar request #rhysand acotar #acotar #azriel #rhysand smut #azriel shadowsinger #az smut #azriel acotar #azriel smut

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mortytheestallion · 11 months ago

Text

let the light in

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Rick Sanchez x F!Reader, sex pollen, unprotected sex PIV, angst if you squint, cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), rick being kinda mean, this fic is 18+ minors dni

A/N: this was a fucking beast of a fic i've been trying to wrangle for months. based on this ask

>> Come over.

>> Emergency.

> real emergency? or morty didn’t like your vat of acid emergency?

>> I’m not gonna ask again.

Rick usually enjoys messing with you too much. He’ll beat around the bush as long as he can because it drives you insane. He loves to dangle the unknown in front of you for as long as possible, right up until you just can’t take it anymore.

You don’t bother to rush over anymore. You used to fall all over your apartment, scrambling to find your keys amidst paperwork and weekly takeout. Cursing and throwing piles of clothes everywhere, just for them to be sitting nicely on the hook you never use.

Only for Rick to need the screwdriver two feet to the left of him.

“It’s important I don’t get distracted,” He would grumble at your obvious frustration, a self-important thank you as you hand it over and he sends you back on your way.

Asshole.

Or the time he’d let Morty’s ointment sit too long, and you had to help wrangle him back home. You seemed to be the only one who got bit, however, as Rick made it away unscathed. Typical.

You let out a sigh, uneasiness settles like a stone deep within the pit of your stomach.

You don’t have time to look up from your phone before a portal appears in the corner of your room. You pause for a moment, taking in the green glow and slight pulsing sound. It must really be an emergency if he couldn’t even wait for you to make the drive. It wasn’t long by any means, but you can’t ever remember a time he’s gone out of his way to portal you over.

Slight annoyance runs through you at the convenience he’s withheld from you all this time, but you push it away. This must be urgent. That doesn’t stop you from lacing up your shoes, slowly rising to meet the portal before the familiar falling sensation hits. You still haven’t gotten used to it.

The garage is dark, save for something that glows blue in the corner. It's not lost on you that the house’s defense barricades are currently in place.

Rick’s sitting low on the chair he keeps at his workbench. Slouched as he braces his arms against his knees, long legs splayed open.

His hair is even more unruly than normal. There’s a cut above his eyebrow, and dried blood that mars his lower lip. His usual look of boredom adorns his face, yet the slight twitch of his lips betrays his cool demeanor as he looks you up and down.

Your instinct is to shrink away from him, but you hold Rick’s gaze. His signature lab coat is missing, his blue longsleeve is riddled with holes and burn marks. More dried blood makes it cling to his right side, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t show it. His long legs are spread wide as he casually lounges there, he looks much more broad than usual.

“Are you okay?” Your breath catches, “I mean, is everything okay?” You curse yourself at the way your voice quivers under his unrelenting gaze. You hate that he has this effect on you.

“I got hit on Gearworld-” Rick pauses, as if weighing whether or not to divulge more information, “Idiots are testing bioweapons on non-gear life forms.” His brow quicks at your panicked expression, he lazily holds one hand up to signal he’s going to continue.

“I know this isn’t —uh, what you imagine when you slip those pretty little fingers into your pants at night, but I really need your help.”

Your eyes go wide at his request. Sure you’ve helped him on all kinds of different planets in all different kinds of ways, but never anything like this. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck at the implications of what he’s asking. You can’t help but bite your lip, it doesn’t slip past you how Rick’s hips buck in response to the small action.

You can’t find the words. Why now? Why me?

“Now—now or never, baby,” His voice breaks your trance, “I got a fucking problem here and if you’re not into it don’t— I’m gonna take care of this myself.”

“Why me?” You bite your lip, suddenly shy as you shift your weight. He lets out a groan, his spare hand dragging across his face in annoyance. Always the drama queen.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” You’re locked in a stalemate. His chest is heaving from whatever they’ve injected him with, although you have a pretty good idea by now. He looks at you like he’s hungry. It makes you lose your train of thought. He lets out a groan and a soft fuck. Pleasure shoots down your back and settles down deep in your spine, it makes you shudder.

““You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice the way you ogle me? I had to pull you out of an alien hole for god's sake, because you were too busy watching me instead of doing what I told you.”

“You’re such a dick!” Embarrassment washes over you like a flood. The blood rushing through your ears is so loud as it carries the thump thump thump of your heart.

It’s so Rick to have known about your feelings before you did. Part of you wishes you could crawl inside your apartment and never leave again. You’d just have to get used to the 24 DVDs piled against the TV, and apparently salisbury steaks are back. You could make that work.

“Yeah I’m a dick with a problem so either get riding or get the fuck out.”

Fuck he’s mean. You hate that it turns you on. You like to think that under different, less dire circumstances he’d be nicer. You know he cares for you, he wouldn’t keep you around if he didn’t. It’s so sick. You’re watching him get better, be better, and yet he seems to revert back just when you need him the most.

You take a step toward him and he’s on you, instantly. His shoulders drop as rushes to get his hands on you. He huffs rucking your pants down your thighs. You kick your pants off the rest of the way, watching as he wastes no time to rip your lacy underwear off your body.

“Fuck it feels good to do that for real,” you quirk an eyebrow at his statement, but he ignores you in favor of sucking a bruise where your hip meets your thigh. His other hand trails upward, tugging on your shirt to indicate he wants it off. You comply quickly, letting out a soft moan as he bites the tender flesh spot he’s been nursing below you.

Rick always runs warm, handprints burning into your skin as he grips any piece of you he can get his hand on. You whine at the loss of contact as he uses his workbench you’re pressed against as leverage to bring himself back up to your level.

You squirm underneath him, the press of the cool metal against your back combined with his rough clothes against your front proves overwhelming as he takes your face into his hands.

He kisses you like you’re air and he’s drowning.

You go limp against him, allowing him to lick into the wet cup of your mouth. The metallic taste floods your mouth, he’s kissing you so hard his lip resplit. You can feel yourself clench around nothing as you bite it and he groans.

His face is rougher, you realize, more than you imagined. Stubble rubbing against you as he makes his way down your neck sucking and biting. You can’t help the mewls coming from your mouth that he elicits, you can tell it’s fueling his ego as huffs below you.

His sweater itches against you, but the burn only fuels the arousal as it pools within your core, you whimper as his hand brushes against your front. Your soft sounds egg him on as he returns to your mouth, he gives your lip a rough tug with his teeth before plunging back in with his tongue.

Rick had always been rough with you, this was something else though. He shoves a knee between your thighs, groaning at how warm you feel against him. One hand reaches around to grip the back of your neck as the other catches the back of your thigh to bring your leg around his hip.

He grinds against you this way, holding you so tight you worry you might break in half. You sigh against him, desperate for any contact that allows pleasure to ripple through you as the rough material of his pants continues to catch against your clit.

Affection from Rick was so rare, you continue to drink in this feeling, relishing in being special enough to have him give you so much of his attention.

You let out a whine as he breaks the kiss, upset at the loss of contact. He sucks air in through his teeth as he leans back, taking a moment as his eyes rake over your body. You take this as an opportunity to explore him with your hands, taught skin supported by firm muscle bounces back against your fingers.

You don’t miss the way he’s straining against his pants, bulge prominent against the khaki adorning his legs.

You take the natural pause as an opportunity to push his sweater up indicating you want it off, he wastes no time to fulfill your request as he rips it from his body in the blink of an eye. Goosebumps raise on his skin as his bare form meets the cool air, Rick presses himself back against you seeking your warmth.

“Are you gonna fuck me, or-or are you just gonna—oh!” You squeal as he tweaks your nipple in warning, he gives into your request, nonetheless. You feel a slender finger drag down the length of your body. You lean forward to capture the corner of his jaw, biting softly to busy yourself as you wait for him to touch you.

Your heart leaps, a shudder makes its way down your spine as his fingers catch on your clit, giving his attention to where you need it the most. You’re already wet and warm for him, a low groan escapes his throat as he feels you.

He nudges a long finger between your folds, drinking in the sounds it pulls from you. He watches your expression intensely, the slightest indication of pleasure spurring him on as he seeks your validation.

You can tell he’s holding himself back, sweat beads along his hairline as he’s lost deep in getting you off. You wish you could reach out and smooth his furrowed brow, but you’re cockdumb on his fingers alone. You always thought it would be good with Rick, but you didn’t know it would be this good.

You buck into his hand as the arousal floods deep within the pit of your stomach, it's almost overwhelming how electric his touch feels.

He shifts underneath you, attacking the soft spot above your collarbone as he sucks the flesh tender. He removes his finger from your clit, choosing to run it through your soft slit instead. You moan loudly at the sudden shift in contact, he grunts in response, releasing your shoulder from his bite.

You open your eyes as he removes his hand, sucking in a breath as he brings it to his mouth and sucks.

You gush as he moans around his fingers, the sound vibrating through his chest as you watch him savor you. He releases them with a pop, a strand of salvia linking them back to his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate as he pushes those fingers into you, and you jolt at the sudden contact.

Your fingers are gripping the workbench so tight you’re sure if you looked down they’d be white. Your back arches as his fingers slide in easily to the knuckle.

“Is this what you wanted?” He murmurs, but you know he wouldn’t hear the answer even if you had one to offer him, eyes half mast watching his fingers pump in and out of the tight channel of your pussy. He slips another finger into you, and your arms give out at the wave of pleasure that assaults your senses.

Every muscle in your body tightens as he angles his hand so the flat edge of his palm can press against your clit. He continues to curl his fingers against the spongy piece inside you, focusing on how your cunt pulses slick and hot against him.

“Fuck– Rick, I-I might, I’m gonna—” He can barely hear you, too distracted by the lewd he elicits out of you. There’s sweat beading along your hairline, he can feel your lowering muscles spasming as he twists and scissors his fingers.

He picks up the pace, you can feel yourself dripping against his hand, clenching as your orgasm rapidly approaches. He moans as you grip his forearm, nails digging into the muscle.

“Fuck!” You cry out as he fucks his fingers up, he twists his hand to press circles against your clit and you scream. You clench hard around him in soft, hurried spasms that make him choke on the groan he was about to let slip. He feels the rush of liquid that flows out of you as you burst across his knuckles.

He watches as you arch off of his workbench, shuddering as he pulls pleasure out of you in waves. He thinks he could come in his pants from this alone, the pollen coursing through his veins making him lightheaded. His skin is too tight for his body, limbs feeling as though he’s moving through molasses.

Every time you touch him feels like a douse of cool water. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of heat that makes his vision blur. He wants to bring you closer, he’d bury himself inside of you, carve himself deep within your chest if he could. Every cell within his body is screaming, urging him to lick and suck and devour you.

“I can’t– I’m not gonna be able to be gentle with you,” you peer up at him, eyes wet from the intensity of your orgasm, “I won’t be able to take it slow.”

You swallow, eyes flicking down to his crotch before meeting his gaze.

“Do you think it’ll fit?”

He barks out a laugh before curling his fingers you didn’t realize were still inside you. You cringe, at both the tender feeling and the loud squelch that emits from below you.

“Yeah, yeah sweetie, it’s gonna fucking fit,” Rick wastes no time undoing his belt, wolfish grin ghosting his lips. He lets out a deep moan and fuck as he pulls himself out.

You can’t help the noise you make at the sight of it, he’s thick and leaking. You wish you had more time, you’d love to take him in your mouth and make him see god. You take him in your hand instead, brushing your thumb along the top of his cock and humming when his body jerks with it. He thrusts into your grip impatiently, your fingertips catching every ridge and crevice along his length.

You gasp as a calloused hand reaches up in one swift movement to grab your throat.

He enters you with one swift movement, pushing your legs up to get a better angle, ignoring the way you groan as your back hits the wall.

You ignore the pain, blooming for him—sucking him in with your molten heat that nearly blinds him. You want to make it good for him. You want him to know that you can be good for him. You want him to come back after a particularly rough day and bend you over his work bench, or call you in the middle of the night purring for you.

“Fuck, Rick, oh my god,” your eyes roll back, cunt contracting around him. He responds with a heavy slap to your ass that lurches you backward, almost off of him before he slams back into you. His strokes are deliberate and powerful, he fucks you so hard he can hear it.

He fucks and fucks you, every slam of his hips making your lashes flutter. You’re shuddering around him, walls spasming as you cross the line into overstimulation. You let out a strangled cry, your second orgasm hangs in front of your face and you start to push back against him, desperately seeking release.

Rick’s jaw clenches, clicking from an old injury. He’s trying to control himself, but you’re burning hot and tight as all hell. He bites the inside of his cheek as you blossom around his length, throwing his head back as the loud slap slap slap of his hips keeps you dripping on his cock.

You allow yourself to drink in Rick’s distracted state, dragging a soft hand up and down the side of his body, relishing in the way he shudders and gasps at your touch. The idea that he’ll discard you after this, making excuses about not being himself or reacting to the effects of pollen hits you like a truck. It almost sobers you out of your cock-drunk state.

He draws you out of your spiraling with a strained gasp as your fingers find tender flesh, you hesitate before digging into the soft muscle with your nails. It pulls on your heartstrings to willingly inflict pain on him, but any remorse is instantly washed away at the way his dick twitches inside you.

“Sh-shit, do that again,” Comes that dark, gritting baritone as he releases his grip on your legs, choosing instead to wrap a calloused hand around your neck, quickening his pace with sloppy thrusts. Rick lets out an honest to god moan and you clench around him. He pulls out abruptly, and you whine at the loss of contact.

Hurt floods your features, anxiety clawing its way up your chest at the smallest sign of rejection. There's not enough time to ruminate before he’s back on you, sliding to the hilt. You hiss at the return of pressure, pain searing into you. Adjusting around him, you slide your nails down his back. He moans arching into your touch.

“I don’t–,” He’s interrupted as a particularly deep thrust hits something spongy within you and you’re writhing under him. He captures your jaw in his firm grip forcing you to look up at him through hooded eyes.

You look utterly fucked out. Tears leaking from the corners of your eyes make his cock twitch, he’s ready to come but he needs to tell you first. He needs you to know.

“I don’t think you understand just how fucking long— ” Your eyes go wide, “I’ve wanted to hit this hot fucking cunt.”

Each of his words is punctuated with a particularly hard thrust. Your breath hitches in your throat at his confession.

“I know I’ve been a dick lately—”

“Jesus, fuck, Rick, just shut up and fuck me!” You can’t take it anymore, god knows how he’s doing it in his state. Your outburst earns you a hard slap to your ass that he’s holding off the edge of the workbench, whimpering as his fingers dig into the burning flesh. Part of you wanted to hear what he had to say, but you need it to be from him. Not from the Rick with aphrodisiac poison coursing through his veins.

The room is dense with the sound of wet flesh coming together again and again as he takes his thumb and rubs it over your clit in short, quick circles. His cock throbs inside you, you feel your pussy making room for him where you didn’t think possible, allowing him to carve you open and make you his. He grips your hips harder as you try to push away from him, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Uh-uh, I’m not done with you. You–you wanted the Rick, baby, I’m gonna make sure it’s worth your while.”

His pace begins to chase something frantic, you writhe under him as he licks a hot stripe up the side of your neck. You’ve been reduced to nothing but high pitched moans, panting and shivering under him. Your pleasure crests until you feel you’ll explode.

And you do. Your vision goes black as your orgasm racks your body and you explode wet– nearly pushing him out of you as you shove the heels of your hands into your eyes because you cannot look at him right now.

“Fuck,” He rasps, “Goddamn, did you— you just– you’re–,” it just melts into a pile of sounds before he’s groaning sinfully, a last, hard thrust before there is the telltale sprouting of warmth within you.

You're drunk on him, absolutely fucked out as your walls still spasm around him. You yelp as he drops you back on the workbench before dropping down to his knees.

He ducks his head to slide the flat of his tongue through your folds, tasting the slick that drips from you. You shudder, clumsy hands tugging his hair, pulling him off you. You manage to prop yourself up on one arm, looking down at him.

“God you’re fucking filthy.” “You like it.”

His chest is heaving, cock rehardening already from where it rests above the waistband of his unzipped pants. It makes you cringe, he must be in so much pain.

If he is, he doesn’t let it show. It's something you’ve always noticed about him, the lengths he goes to hide himself from the world. From you.

He’s given you this, even in his own fucked up way he’s given you this. It makes your heart swell. Worry picks at you from deep in your subconscious, but you push it away for now. You want to give him something back, he knows how you feel but you need him to know.

It’s why you’re sliding off the bench, sinking to your knees as he rises above you.

“Damn, I would’ve fucking injected myself with that shit if I had known it would’ve gotten you here like this, for me,” He’s so fucking smug, stupid smirk gracing his lips as you take him in your mouth. You’ll wipe it off though, prove to him why he chose you.

Make sure he’ll always want to choose you.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez fanfic #rick Sanchez/reader #Rick C-137

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thedreamlessnights · 1 year ago

Text

Fervency

Non-Ascended Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Synopsis: After falling into mysterious spores in the Underdark, you start to experience some... strange side effects. Astarion is more than happy to assist.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough), aphrodisiac/glorified sex pollen, established relationship, discussions of consent, fingering, oral sex (both giving and receiving), blood drinking, multiple orgasms. Takes place post-game and includes mild spoilers.

Word Count: 5.7k

There’s not much that surprises you anymore.

It’s true - being kidnapped by illithids, having a tadpole implanted behind your eyes, facing the gods themselves - all of that does make it difficult for mundane life to come anywhere close enough to truly shock you. Your days aren’t necessarily peaceful, but they never seem quite as exciting as that blind haze of companionship in the aftermath of the nautiloid, trekking through the wilderness and shadow-cursed lands and the city, finding yourself in the company of strangers but soon-to-be family.

Still, these days, there’s something every now and then that catches you off guard. The trouble is, you’re never quite left in a space to know how to handle it. Unlike your earlier adventures, things are rarely solved with a dagger in your hand or a dash of flattery in your words. No, the burdens of day-to-day life are much more complicated than that.

Falling into a patch of mysterious spores, for one.

The Underdark is full of various mushrooms. Poisonous. Explosive. Befuddling. You could go on and on. You’ve had your number of close calls with them, but the sensation coursing over your skin feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced - and it doesn’t help that you’ve never seen spores like this.

Hells. Of course this is where your day would end up.

Just a little stroll, you’d told yourself. It’ll be harmless. And it had been, for the most part. There’s an unearthly beauty to the Underdark that you’ve never encountered anywhere else, one you’ve come to appreciate just as much as the upper surface. But halfway through your usual route, your feet had snagged on a branch and you’d gone tumbling, and now - now you’re in a patch of glowing, red spores, feeling like…

Gods, what do you feel?

Hot. You feel very, very hot. Sweat trickles down your back. Warmth blooms like poppies in a number of strange places - your cheeks, your lips, your neck. The feeling is spreading fast, bleeding through your ribs as you get to your feet.

Alright, you think to yourself, ignoring the sharp, bleeding panic in your throat that’s threatening to take over. Situations like this call for a sense of rationality. You’re going to get out.

It takes much longer than it should for you to slowly stumble back to familiar ground. Your movements are jerky, as if you’re being puppeted around, and it’s getting harder to think straight when you’re feeling as if - whatever this is - is slowly consuming you. The heat is in your lungs, coursing fire near your pounding heart, raging with every inhale.

You need to get this off of you, and as quickly as possible. After that, maybe it will fade and maybe it won’t. You’ll… you’ll figure it out.

By the time you make it to the river, your knees are trembling so much that you nearly fall in. The water barely scratches the surface of the fire when you splash it over your skin, but the coolness of it is euphoric. You go as quickly as you can, covering area by area - your clothing, your arms, your face and neck - until most of the spores are off, but the feeling pulses and throbs in you all the same. Whatever it is, it isn’t killing you, but it certainly isn’t pleasant.

You could tell Astarion. He’d tease you a little, but he’d also be certain to search endlessly to find something to stop your discomfort. And you ache for him. His touch, his voice, the fondness in his eyes when he looks at you.

Had it really been just this morning when you’d last seen him? It seems like lifetimes away - lost to a very, very different type of ache in your veins that won’t seem to fade. You’ve just made up your mind to go find him, rising to your feet again, when the heat rushes to a very specific place between your legs and all thoughts of looking for Astarion are instantly cast out.

Oh, you think, somewhere between dizzy, needy, and utterly humiliated. So that’s what this is.

You’ve read about things like this - plants, pollen, potions - but most of them had been in bad romance novels, and none of them had ever come with any mention of an antidote. And, needless to say, you won’t be making your way to the Myconid Sovereign to learn more. It’ll have to be handled on your own.

You could risk going home and pretending to be ill, but Astarion is far too perceptive for that. He’d see through your ruse immediately. Which leaves the only option: hiding in a cave and waiting this out, praying he won’t notice you’re gone and come searching for you before you’re back.

And really, how bad can it be?

Bad. It can be very, very bad.

You’ve been sitting in this cave for who knows how long, and your sanity is fading more and more by the minute.

It had been manageable at first. The heat spread through you like warm cider on a cold night - a slow, steady increase, the way a candle gradually burns down to the wick. You’d thought it would stop at a certain point (it had to, didn’t it?), but no. It just… kept going.

Now, every inch of your body feels like it’s on fire, and it’s not slow, or steady, or even remotely bearable. It’s a strange, pleasurable flame, but a flame nonetheless. You can’t even decide whether touching yourself would even help at this point. Even just grazing your hand along the length of your thigh sends the fire rising, and you’re not keen on experimenting at the moment.

Your hands have gone stiff from balling your fists. Your mouth keeps switching between being as dry as sand and overly salivating. Each breath ignites more warmth, and you’ve been trembling for so long that you don’t remember how it feels to be still.

Gods. If you trusted yourself to get to your feet, you’d go see the Sovereign - a lifetime’s worth of humiliation or not. You don’t have any clue what time it is. There’s no sun or moon down here to guide you, no mechanism to spell out the hour. Has Astarion noticed your absence? How long until he’s concerned?

You know enough to know that you should have been back by now - that it’ll be unusual for you to have been gone so long. At least this spot you’ve found for yourself is relatively private. A dark, dry little place with a stone floor; fluorescent ivy in shades of lavender and coral; remote enough that, if your willpower fails and you end up making some noise, no one will be around to hear.

You attempt to swallow, but the action dies on your tongue. You attempt to breathe, but you can’t seem to suck in any air. You’re just thinking you really might die in this painful, mortified state when the pad of footsteps on stone hits your ears, and your whole body pulls as taut as a rope.

Oh, gods. Please not him. Anyone else. The Sovereign. The Society of Brilliance. Anyone.

But it’s him, because of course it is. He slowly makes his way inside, pressing through the narrow entrance and around the corner, and when he sees you curled against the cave wall, his brows rise - alarm.

“Wait,” you blurt out, determined to speak before he can. “Don’t come any closer. Please.”

Astarion stays where he is, but his eyes start instinctively scanning you over, searching for ailment or injury. “What’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his head. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, even though you’re anything but. You want to say more, but your thoughts trail off as another wave of heat flares inside of you. You’ve started trembling again. Your fingers accidentally graze against your thigh, and you let out a small, involuntary noise.

Astarion hesitates, then takes a step closer. “Darling,” he starts, raising a brow, “you make a terrible liar.”

Of course you can’t fool him. Not even a little. You let out a laugh, but the sound hitches into a strange, choked sob. You pull your knees to your chest and let out a long, shaking breath, trying to get a grip. “I know,” you say softly. “Gods. I’m sorry.”

He takes another step closer, and concern writes itself into his expression. “Gods below,” he exclaims. “Er - my sweet, I don’t mean to be rude, but you look...”

“Horrible?” you finish for him. “I know.”

“I… was going to say ill, actually,” Astarion replies, laughing a little. “This dark cave lighting looks beautiful on you, my dear.”

You can’t resist another laugh. It’s less burdened this time, but it fades away as you hesitate, very pointedly gazing down at your fingernails instead of meeting his eyes. “I may or may not have fallen into a patch of mysterious spores.”

“And?” Astarion says, lifting a hand into the air and giving a small, contemplative gesture. “Go on, darling. Seeing as you aren’t dead - I’m assuming they weren’t poisonous?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. How the hells are you going to phrase this? “No,” you answer. “I just feel… hot. Not like the explosive ones, just… hot.”

“Well,” Astarion says, “That’s… interesting. Alright - let me take a look at you.”

Half of you wants to protest, but what’s the point? He’ll find out the truth sooner or later. So, instead, you nod.

He steps closer, kneeling down at your side, and you have to ball your fists to keep from doing something stupid. You’re expecting more flame at his touch - a painful flare, like when you’d grazed your thigh - but when the back of his hand meets your forehead, his touch is like a salve. Soothing, cool, sweet. It mellows out the fire, makes you feel sane again.

You shut your eyes in relief, staying as still as you can, and when you open them, you find him giving you a look you know all too well. Smug. Affectionate. A glint in his eye that can only mean trouble.

“My, my,” he purrs. “Darling, I’m no healer, but… a racing pulse, dilated pupils, feverish to the touch? That, I know.” He leans in, his voice low in your ear. “And I can smell how much you want me.”

A shudder runs down your back, betraying you. Astarion leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours - soft and gentle and perfect - and it takes everything in you to pull away.

“Wait,” you protest.

He instantly halts, pulling away from you and scanning over your expression. “What is it?” he asks. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine,” you say quickly. “But you don’t… I mean - I can manage this on my own, you know.”

His brows rise. “My dear, you do realize I am very capable of helping you in this situation?”

“Gods, Astarion,” you say, biting back a delirious sort of laughter. “Believe me, I’m well aware. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. I can manage this.”

A fondness enters his expression - the rare kind, reserved for the most meaningful of moments. He leans closer, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I know,” he says softly, the words tender and delicate. “Trust me. I want to do this.” He trails a finger along your thigh, and you shiver again. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs. “And, unless I’m wrong, you’ve missed me, too.”

After searching his gaze and finding him entirely present, you let yourself relax into his touch. “I’ve missed you more than anything.”

“Good,” he says. “I was almost worried.”

He skims his knuckles over your jaw, leaning in to kiss you once more, and the flame in you seems to bend to his touch. It rages in you like a furnace, bellowing and cruel, but with every frigid brush of his fingers, the feeling subsides. Even the feel of his lips on yours seeps away the discomfort.

He’s slow with his actions, but he doesn’t tease, even though you can see the amusement in his eyes when he pulls away to look at you. He’s enjoying this, and if you’re honest with yourself, you are, too. If only it didn’t come at the price of your dignity - but if it’s going to fall away in front of anyone, it might as well be him.

His hands slide down to your thighs, and your whole body pulls tight, torn between wanting him to touch you now and not wanting him to stop what he’s doing.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against your ear. “I’ve got you, darling.”

You let out a shaky breath and try to coax your body into cooperating, shutting your eyes and letting the feel of him drown out the path of your thoughts. The sensation of his mouth, trailing down your neck, ranging between feather-light kisses and the barely-there sting of his teeth against the skin, making every inch of you melt into his touch like clay. His hands, sliding to the front of your top, deftly unlacing it and pulling it away from your skin.

Thank the gods no one is anywhere around this area - if anyone were to interrupt you, you’re sure you’d die right here and now. The simmering need that lies under your skin is bordering on painful, a white-hot delirium of impatience that will not be ignored any longer.

Astarion’s fingers skim across your sternum, further soothing the burning inside your chest, and his lips soon follow downward. You let out a soft noise from the back of your throat, something choked and desperate, and he hums against your skin in response.

When your eyes flutter open again, you find that he’s staring up at you as he kisses down your abdomen, eyes dark and hands curled lightly around your ribs, ardor and affection both palpable in the heat of his gaze.

Your instinct is to shut your eyes again - to shut out the intimacy and vulnerability that comes from holding his stare - but you don’t. Instead, you move the stiff muscle of your arm and coax your hand into working again, gently tangling your fingers into the silky-smooth, silvery curls in your lap.

He gives you a roguish grin, tugging on your bottoms until they finally, mercifully, pull away from your skin, leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, the words dark and heavy on his tongue, but they feel more for him than for you. His brows crease together and his actions turn sure and firm and quickened - as if he can’t wait to have his mouth on you.

Beautiful. It’s the second time he’s called you that word tonight, but it doesn’t stop the heat from rising back into your cheeks, and that feeling of the warmth seems to spark a chain reaction.

It’s as if his voice is stoking the fire - more heat, all rushing to the very place his lips are heading to now, only to be soothed by his touch. He gently pulls at your thighs, coaxing you to lay on your back, and you’re so desperate that you nearly knock your head against the hard floor laid out beneath you in your effort to obey.

Your mind isn’t processing things the way it usually does: in an even, progressing line of events, every moment spread out from one to the next. Rather, everything comes in bursts of feeling, flashing between being a thousand miles away and all too close, all too present. You barely feel the graze of fabric when he removes your smallclothes and leaves you entirely bare, but the gentle, wet press of his tongue against you feels amplified a thousand times over.

“Astarion,” you gasp, your hand tightening in his hair.

He hums again, and the feeling of it has you shivering, muscles going slack in pleasure. Short, soft flicks of his tongue over your clit and you’re left a shuddering mess, not thinking to try to be quiet - not really thinking at all, anymore. He grips at one of your thighs, looping it over his shoulder as he pulls away for a moment, nipping at the tender flesh there. Soothing it with a gentle kiss, then returning to his work.

You’re a walking - or perhaps laying - contradiction. Your arousal is lava hot, but your pleasure is cold as ice. You can’t decide if you’re cold or hot or both or neither. You’re not in a place to think, not as blinding bursts of pleasure course up your spine, rendering you a lump of skin and bones and not much more. His mouth is nothing if not fervent.

You aren’t sure how long it lasts - your hand in his hair, his mouth against you, writhing in dizzying pleasure against the hard, stone floor and barely feeling the discomfort. It might not be very long at all - but it feels like hours before his fingers enter you.

You’re soaking wet. If you weren’t so focused on, well, everything else, it’d be humiliating. Still, when two fingers slip into you and meet no resistance whatsoever, Astarion groans. The pace he’s setting with both hand and tongue is torturous, slow and even, and it takes everything in you not to beg him for more.

But when he goes a little faster, a moan pulls from your throat, and you look down to find him grinning as he pulls away, fingers still at work. “Look at you,” he says, praise lilting the words as he curls his fingers - sending your hips rolling. “You’ll come for me, won’t you, darling?”

And as if he’s flicked a switch in your mind, you’re coming around his fingers, gasping and shuddering and clenching. Electricity seems to coarse through your veins, hot and sharp, flaming and radiant, and when it’s gone, there’s only the slickness between your thighs, a slight breathless laughter that escapes from you without a thought, and the fading warmth of the spores.

For a moment, it seems as though there might be relief. Your thoughts clear and the heat wanes, but after a sparse second or two of relief, it comes back as strong as ever.

You’d be disappointed at its reappearance, but then Astarion is crawling over you, using his knee to coax your legs apart for him, so how could you ever be disappointed? Everything else slips away except for him. His eyes, dark with want, his lips, molding against yours, his tongue, gently pressing into your mouth as he buries a hand in your hair.

He’s hard for you. You can feel it, and that realization has you grinding against him. He groans, cursing under his breath, then reaches down to undo his trousers. “Are you ready for me, love?” he asks, his voice half-broken with want.

You laugh, still trembling from your climax. “You know I am.”

“Mm,” he hums, his eyes glimmering in the dark. “But maybe I wanted to hear you say it for me, darling.”

Gods. He’s beautiful - always so beautiful - even here, in this dark, cold cave you’ve found. A work of art down to the dark circles under his eyes, the crow’s feet around his eyes, his smile lines.

You could spend a thousand years studying the art of him and never, ever get bored; not of his voice, and the way his confidence sometimes, ever so rarely, breaks into something real and raw. Not of his hands: nimble fingers and the calluses from his blade and soft skin - and not of his eyes, which seem both dark and light depending on his mood, and which can seem so sharp and severe at times, but sometimes soften into something soft and round. Sometimes. When they’re looking at you.

You could spend a thousand years admiring him and never, ever get tired of him, and never, ever deserve him. And he’d never believe it.

He’s noticed you staring, because of course he has, and he tilts his head. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours?”

You can only smile, deliriously happy and wanting and both hot and cold - hot where the warmth burns uncontained, and cold everywhere his skin meets yours. “I love you.”

Your words must catch him by surprise, because it’s shock that meets his expression first. It fades away into affection, placing itself on his lips in a soft smile. “I - I love you too,” he answers, brushing a stray strand of your hair out of your face. “More than anything.”

He clears his throat and shifts, and as you feel his erection brush against you, only then do you remember the conversation you two had been having. Him between your legs. You, still needing him inside of you.

“I’m ready for you,” you breathe. “Please. I want you.”

“How could I say no?” he asks, leaning in and biting at the lobe of your ear.

He presses into you slowly, even though you don’t need it - not after the effects of the spores and your first climax still evident on your thighs. Only when he once again begins a slow, torturous pace do you realize that he’s doing it to tease you, and when you look up and find a certain amount of devious intent in his eyes, a shudder runs down your back.

He’s always seemed to enjoy watching you fall apart. How many times have you looked up in the middle of one of your late-night trysts to find his eyes on you, the darkened ruby gaze that seems as starved for you as his hunger for blood?

How many times has he eased your arm away from your face when you felt the need to hide yourself, and how many times has he gently pulled your hand away from your mouth so he could hear the noises you made for him?

There’s never really been a question about it; Astarion gets off on your pleasure, and the feeling is very, very mutual. Vulnerability aside, it does something beyond words to you to know how much he enjoys giving you pleasure. And, sure as the hells, you like to give it right back to him. So, keeping your gaze locked on his, you grind your hips down to meet him and let out a moan.

His jaw clenches and he swallows hard, his thrusts deepening as he props himself over you. You watch the lovely path of the action over the bob of his Adam’s apple, then flit your eyes back to his, letting out another noise.

“Gods,” he says, and his pace quickens. His hands wrap around your shoulders and he groans, panting as he rocks into you, his grip turning into something almost bruising.

Part of you desperately wants him to keep going - but the other part of you wants to give him something, and now seems the proper time for it. So you tilt your head to give him access to your neck and murmur a few, soft words, and he slowly comes to a halt: breathing heavily, nails digging into your skin as he tries to regain some semblance of composure.

He kisses down your jaw, slowly drags his teeth along the skin, then sinks his fangs into your neck. You’re used to the sharp pain of his bite, but it’s different today. Intensified. It’s as if his mouth on your skin, the barely-there pain, is salving through that fire and every single limb of yours goes slack with…

What is it? Pleasure? Affection? Relief? It’s something in between, something warm but not scorching, something sweet but not overly-saccharine. He starts moving his hips again and you’re instantly on the edge, planting your hands on his lower back underneath his scars and resisting the urge to dig your nails into the skin.

He’s drunk from you enough times since you met to know where the limit lies, even on the cusp of his climax. He drains you until you’re sufficiently lightheaded, but not enough to harm you, then pulls away, planting a messy kiss on your mouth.

Messy. It’s how you know he’s close. His actions are usually so graceful, his movements lithe and calculated. Only on the edge of orgasm do the pretenses fall away - his shaking thighs, soft moans into your lips, panting, blood smeared across his lips and almost certainly yours.

There’s a blinding moment of pleasure as he thrusts harder, deeper, neither of you caring about the level of noise you’re making, and your nails dig into his back. He lets out a groan of approval, then - gods, you’re climaxing again, your whole body trembling with the waves of pleasure that crash over you. Overwhelming at first, then receding into the brief moment of clarity that lasts a minute or two this time.

Then the spores start their work again.

The heat isn’t nearly as intense this time, but it’s still there. Part of you wonders if it’ll ever really fade. You lay still, gasping, as Astarion slowly pulls out of you. Then he brushes the damp hair out of your face and kisses you again.

“Darling,” he starts breathlessly, flashing a mischievous grin at you, “if this is where we’ll end up, you should fall into mysterious spores more often.”

You laugh, sending a playful, light hit toward his shoulder. He catches your hand mid-action, pressing a kiss to your palm, holding your gaze the entire time. “You’re not the one who feels like they’re on fire, Astarion.”

He hums, kissing back down your neck, cleaning up the remnants of blood from his bite. “I wouldn’t say that,” he says, his voice gravelly with want.

That gives you pause. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says with some effort, propping himself above you, “whatever those spores were - they seem to have entered your bloodstream, my dear. It’s - an interesting sensation, I’ll admit.”

You’re searching his face for a tell that he’s not being serious, but instead you find wide, blown out pupils, flushed cheeks, and nothing beside his usual mischievousness. Any blood left in your face quickly exits. “Gods, I didn’t even think. I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be. I’m not.” He presses another soft kiss to your lips, and you see a small smear of your blood on his lips. When you lick your lips, you can taste the iron of it on your tongue.

Astarion is watching you. His gaze darkens, and he lets out another thin, broken groan. “Darling. At this rate, we’ll be going the whole night.”

And, honestly? With the rate the heat is returning - you don’t doubt it.

Still, you gently ease him off of you to sit up, then make your way into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

There’s something addictive about Astarion - there always has been. From the moment he’d had you against the dirt, a dagger to your neck, he’s been your fix.

In those first days when you’d had to hide your want for him - not even lust or sheer desire, but want; the ache to run your finger through silver curls, the warmth in your cheeks when he held your gaze just a moment too long, and the rare moments of vulnerability that came more and more as you’d gotten to know him - it had been torture.

And then he’d propositioned you. And all at once, you’d found yourself in a clearing under silver moonlight, alone with him, long before you ever knew the extent of what had been done to him - and after all this time, the craving for him, the need to lay beside him in the long nights and find him there come morning, has only ever gotten so much stronger.

The heat is somewhat bearable now. Enough to take a moment to admire him, head tilted as he gazes up at you, pure need simmering in his eyes. Dark, glinting rubies. His fangs, barely visible under parted lips. Flushed cheeks. That will fade before long; the rosiness of drinking never lasts more than a few minutes, but you admire it all the same.

“You’re beautiful.” The words are hushed. You hadn’t even meant to speak them, but your mind isn’t really yours at the moment, not wholly, not as firm as it should be. You feel half-drunk, half-needy.

The corners of his lips flick into a smile, and he raises a brow. “Oh?” he asks, clearly stealing for more flattery. “Do you think so?”

You lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You know I do.”

You gather a single, loose curl in your fingertips and gently roll it between your thumb and index finger, admiring the softness of it. You could use the same soaps, wash your hair with the same things he uses a thousand times over, and it’d never matter. It’d never be as soft as his.

“Anything in particular?” he asks. His voice is particularly airy; he’s battling between begging you for what he needs, and the compliments he likes so much.

You think back to when you’d first described him - that night beneath the stars, when he’d tossed the mirror aside and asked how you viewed him. Words hadn’t been enough then, and they still aren’t, but you’ll try.

“Your eyes,” you start, running your finger over his crow’s feet. “They change color in the light. Right now, they’re dark. Hungry. I can tell you want me, and I like that.”

His hands, which have strayed to the back of your thighs, tighten against your skin. “And? What else?”

The heat’s strength is back, clawing its way up your abdomen. “The way your hair curls around your ears,” you murmur.

He frowns, and you know you’ve gone too poetic. To distract him, you lean in and nip at the lobe of one, and any of his upset disintegrates.

“Gods,” he murmurs, bringing his hands up to your waist. “Darling, I can’t wait much longer-”

You’ve trailed down to his jaw, alternating between kisses and sharp little nips just like the ones he likes to give you, and the words die in his mouth in favor of a sharp inhale.

You won’t keep him waiting much longer. In fact, you have a plan. A plan that’d hatched from the moment you’d realized that the spores were in his system, too. Since you’d seen the hungry look in his eyes - every inch a predator circling around its prey.

Only, you’re not content to be the prey. You want to disarm him, and if any of the time you’ve spent together means anything, you’ve gotten very, very good at that.

His shirt is still on, so your hands are quick to remove it, tugging it away from cooling porcelain skin, silky under your fingers as you drag them down his sternum. He shudders, and you remember how it’d felt when he’d first touched you. If it’s anything like that, he’s probably dying to beg you for more.

Your lips soon follow the path your hands are sitting, taking your time with the softness of his abdomen before you pull his trousers away. He’s panting now, and a frenzied sort of desperation lies in his gaze when you look up at him.

And he’s hard again. Leaking.

You lightly trace your nails down his thighs, silently relishing in the way his breath hitches - the way his hips unconsciously buck toward you.

“Gods,” he says again, and though it isn’t a direct request, with the broken way it falls off his tongue, this time it is every bit a plea.

And you’re in a mood to please.

You take his cock in hand, swiping your thumb over the head, where precum is slowly leaking, and he lets out a long, breathy noise. You hum in response, taking his length between your lips, and the sound becomes strained, more needy. His hand gently makes its way into your hair, very lightly guiding you where he wants, but not forcefully.

You alternate between things: long, even movements of your mouth as you drag your tongue down the shaft, swirling your tongue around the head, then sucking him hard and slow. Eventually, simply following the guidance of his hand. His grip tightens in your hair - not painful, just encouraging - and his noises become more drawn out, less coherent.

When you pull away for a moment, using your hand to continue what your mouth had just been doing, you find him dangerously close. You press a kiss to the head and take him in again, increasing pace, accommodating him as you take him in as far as you possibly can, and he starts whimpering.

“Please,” he says, and if that isn’t a rare word to hear from him.

On another day, you might tease him, but you don’t want to. Not now, while he’s begging to have you. Instead, you take him as deep as you can again and suck harder. Astarion tugs at your hair and his thighs shudder and you know he’s close.

“Please,” he says again. “Gods, don’t stop.”

And you wouldn’t dream of it. What you can’t take into your mouth, you use your hand to stroke, and that’s it. He’s coming.

There’s something artful about it - the tremor that runs through him, the salty taste of him in your mouth, and those seeking, breathless sounds that come out of him as he spills onto your tongue. A long, shaky inhale as he pumps his hips, still chasing out his pleasure, then the trembling exhale as his mind starts to come back to him.

He doesn’t soften, and you don’t take your mouth off him. Not yet.

Usually, Astarion can be counted on for two orgasms, but if those spores are doing anything remotely like what they were doing to you, there’s certain to be much, much more than that.

“By the hells,” he murmurs airily, running a hand down your back. “You’re going to kill me, darling.”

You pull away for a moment, kissing at his abdomen, keeping his eyes locked on his as you do. “Does that mean you want me to stop?” you ask sweetly, trailing your nails along the skin of his thigh.

He swallows hard. “Gods, don’t,” he pleads.

And you don’t.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x you #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #mywriting

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star-suh · 26 days ago

Text

Spider-Mark

Mark Lee x Male Reader

cw: superhero top mark, sex under pheromones effects, sort of enemies to secret lovers maybe?, ripped clothes, tongue sucking, mark cums a lot, fingering, 69, belly bulge, choking, bareback, implied marathon sex, auralism, bit of feminization (just one phrase), an impregnation joke, creaming idk i made that up, cum as lube.

an: this could get nasty at the end for some idk, also there would be parts in where i would refer to mark with his name but remember that yn never found out his true identity.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE 🎃

in a world full of humans with superpowers it’s natural that some villains arise and in consequence some heroes are needed. out of everyone one of them was the most beloved, the cute and friendly spider-man. a young masked superhero with a red and blue suit adorned with spider and web motifs, he was so damn good at his job that some people couldn’t help but fall in love with him. this is the case of yn, a smart college student who got kinda obsessed with the hero. “isn’t he so good?” he tells his friends while looking at a picture he took of the aforementioned hero with his phone, he was infatuated by him. “yeah he’s so cool” a voice suddenly speaks with a small laugh at the end of the sentence. “shut up mark, you’re annoying” yn blurted out. the relationship between yn and mark was complicated, they didn’t start on good terms like they were always pit against each other because they were the clever ones in the classroom, something that gradually became a pain in the ass for both guys. “what? isn’t that what you wanna hear about your beloved spidey?” mark mocks causing yn to storm out of them to avoid more conflicts.

unbeknownst to yn he just talked with the man of his dreams, the man behind the web-decorated mask. since he was bit by a mysterious spider, mark gained abilities based on this arachnid, one of the things he liked the most was justice, so why not use his newly found powers to help other people?.

one night, yn was walking home alone, the roads were almost empty. then suddenly some masked guy showed up pointing a gun at yn, “give me everything you have” he yells. yn shakes in fear “HELP!!” he shouts “SOMEBODY HELP!!”, he cocked his gun and aimed at yn’s head when it suddenly flew through the air, landing in an known hand, “got you” he speaks through the mask and shoots some spider-webs towards the robber who got trapped against a wall, being taken by the police minutes later. spider-man took the young man into his arms and carried him towards his house, balancing in between skyscrapers with the help of his webs. it was like a dream that came true for yn, god he was so happy being carried by those strong arms, he could almost cry…

a friendship grows in between the two, obviously with his identity still hidden from yn, he doesn’t want to ruin his new friend’s dream, like what would yn think if he found out his favorite superhero is his rival. days and nights passed with them sitting on a rooftop eating while contemplating the full moon, “isn’t it pretty?” spider-man mutters, his hand resting mere centimeters away from yn’s, “it is” yn says happily, his eyes almost sparkling as if he was in an anime. something in the air shifted suddenly, an intoxicating smell invaded the area, yn started to sweat and his cheeks got flushed. the same happened to mark but of course the mask hides it, his suit starts to stick to his body thanks to the immense sweat. then realization hit him, he started to feel so comfortable that he started to secrete pheromones, one of the side effects of the bite, and they were affecting them both. mark tried to go away but an already hypnotized yn grabs him by the wrist “don’t go please”, mark looked at his pretty sweaty face, ‘he’s begging to be fucked’, mark thought but then shook his head try to erase that thought. “i-i have to go.. sorry” he tried to break away from yn’s grab but to no avail, where did that strength come from?. mark slipped and fell to the floor sitting while yn crawled his way onto him, “spider-man is itching” yn says while shaking his ass, he was completely gone, devoured by the pheromones effect. “y-yn i.. i don’t know” his bulge started to grow, the part of the suit on his crotch swelling due to he getting excited, “damn i should've learned how to control this shit” and with just a swing he grabs yn and carries him on his shoulder while looking for a place to satiate that lust. “take me to my bedroom” yn mentions, indicating to the hero where it was ubicated.

the two arrived and mark opened the window, entering the bedroom quietly, yn tried to discard mark’s mask but he didn’t allow it, he just pulled it up to his nose level, his mouth now free to litter kisses and hickeys in yn. they shared a kiss, mark’s tongue exploring inside yn’s mouth, their tongues intertwined, there would be times in which mark sticks out his tongue for yn to suck on it and vice versa, threads of saliva sticking to their chins, looking like a spider-web. “this is the messiest kiss i’ve ever had” mark confesses, “mine too, i don’t know what’s happening to me” yn replies, “but i need you right now” he adds.

the desperation for each other was so unbearable that mark wanting to not waste more time, ripped the crotch area of his suit, his dick springing free already leaking with precum, “fuck it’s so big” yn panted after seeing it, “is this all for me?” he asks, pouting. “only if you can take it all” the needy hero announced. mark also ripped yn’s pants, the fabric tore right above his hole, “jockstraps hmm?.. sexy” he murmurs.

mark grinds his wet tip on yn’s hole, soaking with precum, “look at how wet i am for you”. then he put his fingers right above his dick to put some pressure on it and started to thrust, going up and down in between yn’s bum. yn throws back his head, the friction creating heat right above his hole that started pulsating, wanting to feel that heat inside of it, he looks at mark with pouty eyes, he wants more, no, he needs more. mark caressed his cheek, his face getting closer towards yn’s, “want me to fuck you pretty boy?” he sexily whispers, his voice resonating throughout yn’s whole body making him tremble, how can such a cute hero be so smoking hot and sexy. yn nods desperately, “please fuck me, use me, just put it inside now”.

mark prepared yn’s hole to take his dick, first he grabbed yn by hugging his hips and pulled him up so his ass could be at the same level of his face and yn’s face would be in front of his hanging dick basically doing a 69 but instead of doing it the normal way they’re doing it standing up, or in this case, on their knees. yn swallowed mark’s dick while the latter starts to finger him, his fingers soaked in his saliva, mark would sometimes eat yn’s ass, burying his face on his hole and then continuing the stretching with his digits, even putting all 4 of them at once loving how when he pulls them out yn’s hole clenches onto nothing but air. meanwhile down there yn keeps on sucking the other’s shaft, occasionally the hero would do some slow paced thrust causing his balls to slap against yn’s face, they were heavy and it seems that they were full of cum also, yn cannot wait anymore to have all that spooge inside him.

mark folded yn and introduced his throbbing shaft first slowly but then accelerating the pace right away, “fuck! milk this hero cock” mark grunts, the muscles and the veins on his arms bulging because of how hard he was gripping the mattress as a way to stabilize himself. at this point mark’s whole suit was damaged, the initial rip slowly grew until what was his pants were now just pieces of clothes hanging on his forelegs, leaving his bottom half naked. his big ass recoils everytime he plows yn and thanks to the excessive precum he produces wet, gushy sounds that originated from the other’s hungry hole, “noisy pussy” mark laughs proceeding to kiss yn. they both got carried away by the pleasure, yn now in doggy style was being choked by mark’s hands, they were placed in his neck so he can go even deeper, “sooo deep…” yn’s tongue was out and drool dripping out of his face. mark’s heavy balls slammed against the other, the night being a witness of their wild sex.

“i’m gonna cum” mark groans, his voice hoarse due to how much he already said that phrase to yn. it was already morning and god knows how many times mark has already came inside yn, he attributes this new ‘ability’ to cum buckets to the bite, “that bite brought good things with it after all” the lustful man exclaimed. one can notice that he indeed cums a lot because there was a tiny bump forming on yn’s tummy, “i can’t anymore spider-man” he uttered, his fucked up face and body drenched in sweat, marks and his own cum. “look at this i knocked you up” the hero jokes pressing against it, then an idea popped up on his mind, he made yn seat on top of him with his still rock hard shaft right above yn’s used entrance, “do this for me and push it all out” mark bits gently yn’s ear who complies and started to do what he was told, slowly he starts to squirt all the cum inside him that landed on mark’s pink tip and slid all the way down his shaft then to his balls and finally dripped onto the floor. “damn i really came a lot” his perfect smile and sexy low laugh sending shivers to yn all the way down his pulsating hole. when he finally squirted all the cum, mark slicked his dick with it using his hand and put it inside yn, “sorry, i’m horny again”, let’s say yn spend the whole day and night moaning and babbling nonsense.

the next day, all the people were asking what happened to spider-man that he didn’t appear yesterday the whole day at all, luckily there weren't any villains near the city. yn went to his classes when one of his friends asked why he didn’t came yesterday to study, “i was very sick but i’m okay now” what’s the only thing they heard from him. he was walking towards his next class when accidentally bumped into mark, who embarrassed of what he did yesterday just muttered a little sorry and resumed with his walking, everyone was surprised because usually this would end up with them both throwing tantrums at each other, “woah that was weird” one of the friends uttered, “yeah” yn narrowed his eyes while looking at mark, he saw something on mark’s neck, is it a hickey? why does it look like one of the hickeys he gave to the lustful hero yesterday? “nevermind” he shook his head and entered the classroom.

a flashback popped into mark's mind, last night he was ready to leave but his suit was completely ripped into pieces so yn lent him some clothes, “can i see who’s behind the mask?” he asked while caressing the other’s cheeks and lips, “not now” he said after waving a goodbye and leaving.

yn comes home just to see the clothes he lent to spider-man clean and folded on his bed with a note that says “see you soon”, butterflies flew on yn’s stomach who cheered and danced in happiness.

#mark lee x male reader #mark lee x male reader smut #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut #nct 127 x male reader smut #nct 127 x male reader #nct dream x male reader smut #nct dream x male reader #nct u x male reader #nct u x male reader smut #nct x male reader #nct x male reader smut #lee minhyung x male reader #lee minhyung x male reader smut

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zyk1ng · 1 year ago

Text

I was gonna make this post way way earlier but I forgot lol but Uhm

I have played through the splatoon 2 story fully and am replaying it (for a future post bc a lot of the dialogue is rlly funny) and honestly while I absolutely loved it it makes me even sadder that splat 2’s story mode was kinda tossed aside (for valid reasons ofc) because it’s so Cool.

Excluding the gameplay, I think they did marie so well, because she sells the desperation of someone who’s got nobody she knows by her side. While she of course keeps the sassy attitude of sneak dissing her best friends (agent 3) and also telekinetically telling you to fuck off if you talk to her too much it’s very clear she genuinely cares so much about agent 4 and is so grateful they’re doing what they do.

these are only two screenshots of 8(?) of Marie randomly being really sentimental to 4 because this stranger chose to help her in her time of need rather than just ignore this GROWN WOMAN hanging out on a sewer drain

It’s like heavily emphasized multiple times that Marie could not be more grateful for 4’s help in retrieving not just the zapfish but also her cousin.

But then revealing that 4 knew about Callie the WHOLE TIME (I have a lot to say about this part but it’s mostly hc so) which is so KIND OF THEM???? this random woman recruits them into a secret military agency and hides the fact she rlly misses her cousin but they help anyway bc they WANT TO. (They didn’t even know either of them were famous btw) Marie shows a lot of gratitude toward 4 ESPECIALLY after the big reveal.

(You could make arguments for 3 being similar bc an old kook made them do it but this isn’t about them..)

And it’s not just being grateful for the one time, she genuinely enjoys 4’s company and wants to be better friends with them and chat after the zapfish and Callie are saved 😭😭😭

It’s so cute too, because 100%ing the game and even just being a little nosy is something that Marie picks up on, and remembers way later in the game. (More abt this later)

god I love this socially inept squid woman and her adopted child soldier that likes finding pieces of paper

Speaking of said soldier! I think the way they characterized 4 via the actual gameplay rather than art/statements/whatever is so cool

4 doesn’t have many illustrations besides the chaos splatfest and that one group photo where they’re being funky in the corner (and the apartment) but I feel like the reason for that is the fact that a lot of Marie’s dialogue as well as how splatoon 2’s hero mode is structured/designed speaks a lot about how they wanted to represent 4.

From a realistic standpoint, of course splatoon 2’s story mode has to be more creative both prompt wise and secret wise. But it feels like the reason its that way is because both 4 and Marie are separate types of people from Craig and 3.

The bosses help a lot with this too, being more gimmicky and weird (subtracting stamp.) Octo shower and samurai being bosses where you have to either react well or change your positioning to effectively beat them. (Octo shower is my fave btw I loved fighting it the first time)

The level design also shines in this aspect because if I’m honest I remember none of the splat 1 levels significantly besides the few octoling ones. Splatoon 2’s levels are very detailed (and also insanely pretty) and have some rlly fun puzzles in a handful of them and even the more fast ones are a blast to play through

And then all the little extras (sardiniums and scrolls alike) are hidden so well and you usually have to go out of your way to find them and even the secrets that aren’t either of those things have substance

Small note, a lot of extras are also made so that it flows well with the levels design (like the first dualie request mission) which is also extremely fucking cool.

the way marie touches on those little discoveries is so smart too because it (as I said before) characterizes 4 as someone who loves to look for things even if it’s on a whim especially since the sunken scrolls in the game are so much harder to find than in splat1.

And the fact that unlike splat 1, you can (technically) 800% the game by playing EVERY SINGLE LEVEL WITH EVER SINGLE WEAPON TYPE. to me it feels like it deepens the fact that 4 likes to be really thorough. marie goes “you have a problem.” When you break like two hidden egg crates in this one level and it’s so great.

I love what they’ve done with 4, whether it was intentional or I’m over-analytical.

Nothing gets past them, looking in every nook and cranny whether or not there’s secrets to be found. They’re too nosy and thorough and they like to be around marie after completing missions, they don’t know who the squid sisters are, hate balloons, may or may not be ok, have impulsive secret finding, partake in many extracurriculars, can be needy at times, go with the flow and they apparently smell better than agent 3.

Agent four, of the New Squidbeak Splatoon.

#agent 4 #splatoon #splatoon 2 #marie splatoon #marie cuttlefish

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pinkmirth · 1 year ago

Note

What kinks do you think each Castlevania man would have? Asking for a science project

⸻ WANT & NEEDS!

MY LOVE NOTE! 𝜗𝜚 ₊ ⊹ oooh, kinks you say? >< glad you asked, nonnie! for scientific purposes only, of course . . .

CONTAINS . . . 𝜗𝜚 ₊ ⊹ multi castlevania men x fem!reader (black coded); adrian ‘alucard’ tepes, trevor belmont, richter belmont, hector forgemaster, isaac forgemaster, & vlad ‘dracula’ tepes; praise, body worship, breeding, power play (dom/sub), edging, bdsm (flogging), explicit language, lowercase intended, not proofread (apologies for any typos!), minors shoo!

ALUCARD!

praise • he wants— no, needs to hear the effect he has on you. is he doing well? do you want it faster? are these brittle-cold hands of his any good at handling your body? it’s all he wants; to hear those sweet, sweet words tumble from your lips and grace his ears. words of affirmation is what adrian holds onto dearly. tell him you love him, just voice it out through a whisper, and he’ll melt into you with the loudest moan you’ve ever pried from him. his sounds will heighten, pace increased with a surge of fervor, a fueled drive to please you. yes, he likes being sweet-talked when it’s coming from his beloved. flatter him a bit, and he’ll surely give you a night to remember.

oh my god i’m so sorry but I’m adding another for my favorite man; body worship! • adrian is all about devotion. once he’s invested in anything, in you, he pours in everything he has to offer. alucard doesn’t take it lightly; you trusting him enough to be so vulnerable as to getting intimate with him. unclothing with him. touching yourself before him. joining your body with his own . . . letting his cock press its way into your tight, delicate entrance. it’s an honor, and he sees it as such. his lips never leave your skin, kissing along your neck as he rolls his hips into you, fucking deep into your warmth. ‘thank you,’ he whimpers, tone low but light as a whisper, ‘thank you, my love . . .’ his hands, big and cold, trail along your hips, against your tummy, around your ass, anywhere he can grace with his cool touch. he likes when you voice your approval of him, but loves to praise you all the more.

TREVOR!

breeding • there’s no denying; it took this man no time at all to get sypha pregnant! and god, if that doesn’t convince you, than nothing else can. he fucks with reckless abandon, and finishes inside as it’s his favorite place to do so. he’ll keep you stuffed with him, cock pulsing from within you as he uses your pliant womb to empty his fat balls of the last spurt of his thick, potent cum. there’s a dopey grin he carries knowing that he’s thoroughly fucked a baby into you. perhaps he isn’t destined to be the only remaining survivor of the house of belmont, after all.

RICHTER!

flogging • he doesn’t like to punish you. no, not at all. but seemingly, you quite enjoy receiving it. when you’re working up a fit just to gauge his reaction, richter knows what to do. the unnecessary attitude, sharp mouth, huffy noises— you just want to be spanked. and so, he throws you over his lap, bunches up the frilly layers of your skirt, and allows his handheld flogging toy, purchased for moments like these, to fall upon the jiggling flesh of your round ass. you moan from the pain, and his cock throbs from beneath his trousers. again, it lashes against your bum and the contact makes you jolt in his lap, trembling over his thighs and dripping all over his flogger toy. it’s almost . . . beautiful, watching the sting of pleasure bloom into a faint, lasting red on your supple skin.

HECTOR!

power play • he may be on top, but you’re holding onto the reins. telling him to slow down, speed up, drive into you deeper; it’s all up to you. and oh, is he quick to listen. he’s a pretty little thing— handsome, intelligent, obedient. he aims for your pleasure much more than his own, sneaking beneath layers of fabric to eat you out, determined to make you cum from the swipe of his tongue alone. he isn’t just doing it because you asked, no. he likes the tug of your fingers weaves through his hair, pushing his face further into your dripping cunt. he likes to be used, to be lead, to feel no regret for being vulnerable. you’re sure of what you want from hector and find no shame in demanding for more, blessing him with the direction he so desperately needs.

ISAAC!

edging • isaac simply likes the control it gives, and who is he to turn away from exercising the art of pure discipline? he feels you fluttering around him, sounds growing pitchier as you try and fuck yourself on his cock. it’s easy for him to keep you still in this angle, as he’s kneeling above you and you’re laid on your back, peering up at him with lust-blown eyes and the most desperate expression he’s ever come across. a large hand of his grabs your face, and sternly. his thrusts come to a stop. to that, you whine, but he doesn’t fucking care. you’ll learn some self-control, he’ll make sure of it; even if he’s stuffed you full and the dick has you going brainless.

DRACULA!

soft sex • dare i say this man is vanilla as fuck? he just wants to please, and coddles you throughout it all with his imposing frame. he makes up for his cold touch with the safety and experience his large hands have to offer. vlad craves pure intimacy; nothing extreme, just pure bliss.

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alyakthedorklord · 1 year ago

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Omg literally it would be SO cool if you wrote the rest of the playboy bruce trying to kiss the justice league without them realizing it (I know you said figure it out but the way you wrote it was so good and funn I would love it if you gave maybe a couple of scenarios)

Lmao honestly executive dysfunction is kicking my ASS rn and it was intended as a prompt. I will try tho, definitely taking inspiration from the others who responded to the post because I love them.

If you haven’t, go check out the notes on the OG Post above! @britcision, @ivywing, and @help-i-need-a-cool-username all had amazing additions and @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego wrote a fic:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48325771

As did @scrapcheck, still in progress

And Devilhorn!

Anyways LONG post under the cut

Hal Jordan

Hal is first to prove a POINT, as @britcision decided. Also because the bastard made it waaaay too easy. Remember- Hal was Joking. He genuinely thinks Batman isn’t going to try, because he’s way too straight-laced boring.

So when he’s at a bar in Coast City, and he sees this absolutely ravishing man lounging casually against the wall, bar lighting making him practically glow (he CALCULATED that) subtle makeup making his bright blue eyes pop as he looks Hal up and down… Well. Hal makes the first move.

Hal: “All on your own, handsome?”

Bruce, with “Mastermind” by Taylor Swift playing in his head, smiling sweetly at Hal: “Care to change that?”

They start talking. Hal doesn’t recognize Bruce Wayne at ALL (canonically he does not know who Bruce Wayne is, a point brought up by @help-i-need-a-cool-username) so all he knows is Bruce is a single father who works at a company he inherited from his parents, which is just (brucie voice) “so much less interesting than a test pilot!”

Bruce, grimacing internally but wrapped around Hal’s arm with the awed and interested eyes in full effect: “you have such a nice voice, tell me more about planes…”

He KNOWS what a fuselage is, thank you, Jordan. Whatever. He gets to gush about his kids, when its his turn to talk, good enough tradeoff. He can survive Hal Jordan’s bad pick up lines and pretend he’s into them. At a certain point Bruce breaks and kisses him just to shut him up. One down.

Diana Prince

I looked it up- kissing in Ancient Greece wasn’t always considered romantic, but also a greeting between two similarly-ranked people. Therefore, I think Diana would be pretty chill with kissing and honestly an easy target at a gala if Bruce plays respectful/clumsy/earnest himbo starstruck with the tall pretty woman, just a peck would make him the happiest man alive. But I wanna go a little more in depth.

Now, I’ve seen Flash and Martian Manhunter save Bruce and/or his kids and Bruce lays one on them, but honestly I think it would work well with Diana too, because she loves kids. Dick and/or Jason (whichever you want to imagine, I want them to team up screw canon) are WAY to excited for this, they’ve got a little script and everything.

WonderWoman, a kid in each arm, delivering them back to their tearful guardian: “Here we are, Mr. Wayne. Whole and healthy.”

Dick, playing into his role eagerly: “Oh my gosh, Bruce! Bruce we got saved by a princess! It’s like a fairytale! Except, you know, the princess is the hero this time, which is so freaking cool!”

Bruce, tears of gratitude rolling down his face (and he knows how to still look perfect while crying, its a skill): “I’m just glad the two of you are safe, Chum.”

Jason, big baby blues in full effect, absolutely asked Wonder Woman to be his mom earlier (to set groundwork, no other reason): “You know, usually the princess and the hero gets a kiss at the end of a fairytale, Bruce. But this princess is both. So how will she get a reward?”

Still choked up with relieved tears and now laughter, Bruce looks up at Diana and smiles: “Well, if the Princess wants a reward… then I would be a fool to refuse.”

Bruce kisses her on the lips, Dick and Jason both kiss her cheeks, Diana leaves charmed and amused by the sweet family. Such a good father, humoring his children and thier little fascination with her, so very respectful…

Two down.

J’ohn Jones

Okay, martians are telepathic. So this goes one of two ways, at some sort of charity or something-

Option 1, Batman is a realist: the charity event is a masquerade, and he wanders over to where MM is while thinking “it would be so funny, give me this.” As loudly as he can. And Martian Manhunter, who appreciates the audacity, gives him a kiss. (I don’t like this one because it technically breaks the rules of the bet, bc MM knows it’s Batman, but eh)

Option 2, Batman is a different breed: he manages to up the ante with his Himbo Persona. Creating a “slippery void” mental facade that blocks of his real thoughts and makes him read as really just that stupid. This would require functioning with two trains of thought at once, and making sure that the Martian can only read the surface level, “oh, this one is pretty” “I really wouldn’t mind kissing him” and other such decoy thoughts, instead of “target is approaching, signs of interest present despite this not being his natural form-“

Bruce also researches and copies Martian courting styles and copies them “by chance,” catching MM’s attention. (He offers him Oreos)

Martian Manhunter: “this man… he is so empty headed and yet clearly kind and willing. I would not take him for a life partner, but for some simple fun as he seems to desire…”

(Edit: Maybe, if B is confident enough, he lets through his loneliness. Missing his parents, wanting affection, an ache so strong it’s like a physical wound. J’onn feels the same ache for his lost family, and decides to try this human’s strategy to fill that void. Either way…)

Batman 3, League 0

Barry Allen

I’m strangely blank when it comes to the Flash let me just spitball and let it snowball

As I said above, people have had him save Bruce, had Bruce seduce him at his workplace while taking a tour, I even saw @help-i-need-a-cool-username have Dick set up a petition for Bruce to kiss the Flash. (An idea that I personally think would also go really well with Superman lmao.)

Anyways, I think it would be funny for Bruce to take it slow with Barry. For the irony of it all. Because Batman is doing this to prove a POINT. So he’s in central city, spots Barry coming his way, and “accidentally” slips right into his arms. Ooh, or covered in coffee, like a wealth disparity drama base script, and Barry’s like “omg i am so sorry let me pay you back.” And bruce is all “this shirt costs (stupid amount of money)”

Barry: (fear)

Bruce, rolling with it rn: “yes, it is horrendous, isn’t it? Hows this- I’m in central city for a day. You can pay me back by showing me around?”

He then proceeds to string barry along on an honest to god DATE for shits and giggles. They go clothes shopping, they go to restaurants, Bruce pays for a big meal bc this is after a fight or something and Barry got hurt, his speedster comrade needs to EAT, damnit.

After all this, he gives a cheeky smile and lightly smooches Barry. “Thanks for the fun day, Mr. Allen.”

Barry, bright red and goo brained: “hah- mmhmm. Yeah…”

Batman 4, League 0

Oliver Queen

This one… Oliver is on guard. He’s twitchy and suspicious, turning down men flirting with him, people are starting to notice. But Bruce? Bruce just walks up at a party while “tipsy” and lays one on him. Straight up. He wants to show just how EASY it is. Because Oliver doesn't even register it. He just laughs and goes: “Hey Brucie! Miss me?”

Batman 5, League 0

Dinah Lance

Of course, immediately after above, he turns and pouts at canary.

Bruce: “Dinah darling, you are a saint, I don’t know how you put up with the mess he’s got on his face. He was so much nicer to kiss when we were in (fancy private school name drop) together and didn’t have all this nonsense.”

Dinah, laughing at Ollie’s offended noises: “Oh, I don’t mind it. He’s a good kisser.”

Bruce: “Of course he is, I taught him. Care to compare?”

Dinah: “Don’t mind if I do.”

Batman 6, league 0

Clark Kent

For Clark, Bruce is originally talking to Lois before he turns his eyes on a quiet Clark and croons: “So, Miss Lane, does this lovely specimen have his own questions, or is he arm candy? And if he’s the latter, can I either tempt him off you, or secure an invitation?”

Lois, an excellent friend who will absolutely set Clark up with the hottest bachelor in Gotham: “Well, Mister Wayne, I’ve got all I need. Clark, take a page from my book and honeytrap a good quote out of him, hm?”

With an obnoxious wink, she pats a spluttering Clark on the shoulder, and leaves him with a very smug Batman.

(Bonus Superbat- Clark and Bruce’s conversation is going REALLY WELL and to the point where both of them seem on board with more than a heavy makeout when Bruce puts a hand on Clarks chest.

Bruce: “Stop.”

Clark, freezing immediately: “I’m sorry, did I go too far-?”

Bruce: “No, no. I think I might be though. See, I have all of you now, and I’ve won the bet.”

Clark: “What are you- oh. Oh- HUH?”

Cue sudden and shocked revelation, Clark’s mind going a hundred miles an hour, and then skidding to a stop on- he only did this for the bet. He’s not really interested. He stopped because I went too far-

Bruce: “You only consented to a kiss without knowing my identity. Right now, I’d like to do more, if you’d let me.”

Clark has the dial-up tone ringing in his ears, he has no idea whats going on anymore, the hot billionaire and his reclusive teammate aren’t quite slotting into place, because he wants both but rhey’re so different but they’re the same but-

“Yes.”

Lois doesn’t get Clark back that night and she is delighted.)

Anyways, final results:

Batman: 7

League: 0

Reveal:

Batman talking shit about their secret identities again, Green Lantern is scoffing about it again, says something along the lines of: “You still think you’re sooooo great, huh? Hows the bet going, spooky?” Fully expecting Batman to get huffy with him.

Instead, Batman smirks.

He leans in

And purrs: “So you didn’t notice?”

The League freezes. The implications are dangling over their head. Did he… did he really?

Green Lantern, absolutely terrified: “No. no, there’s no way…”

Batman: “Oh, there absolutely was a way. I’d say you were a good kisser, but honestly? I think it might have been the euphoria of getting you to shut up.”

He turns on the rest of the league, still smirking. “I have kissed every single person who consented at least once in the time since the bet was made. Two of you with tongue. And no one has called me out on it. Now that you know it’s happened, you should be able to figure me out, so whoever can tell me my real name first, wont get thier story used as an example in the brand new “how to avoid honeypots” seminar.”

(If bonus superbat, B shoots Superman a Look and goes “except for you, superman, because I told you my name.” Which just ends up distracting everyone else until they get THAT story)

Diana wins bc she matched up the boys to the robins. Everyone else gets their stories told in excruciating detail. Batman rates them by kissing ability and how obvious he was on his approach. Oliver gets docked points for “texture.” Dinah gets docked points because “i griped about the exact same thing in and out of costume, how did you not notice-“

(Different reveal below)

@chaos-n-kindness @she-went-that-way @geekonaleash @redh00dsbf @howabouticallyou

#batman the playboy #autistic batman #justice leauge shennanigans #bruce wayne #long post #batman

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