#it’s because it’s one layer closer to seeing him naked

[bakugoyelling]

something about giyuu without his haori on 😵‍💫

[rileyslibrary]

A/N: *leans into the microphone* anybody ordered some non-verbal taunting communication, courtesy of the lieutenant?

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You have all gathered in the tent for a quick briefing by the captain. Today’s drill is supposed to begin before dawn, and without the sun to keep you warm, the breeze shamelessly seeps through the tent’s openings. You sit around the table with the rest of the team and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to focus on Price’s orders.

Ghost stands next to the captain, examining each team member from across the table. He stands with his legs spread, holding his hands behind his back. His eyes move slowly, taking in every expression, every posture, and every movement.

You scan him from his head down to his waist. He’s in full gear all the damn time; mask, scarf, uniform, jacket, tactical vest. Sometimes, you wonder if he sleeps with everything on so that he can be ready to go. Perhaps he hangs his clothes on a chair the night before and puts them on one by one in the morning. If that’s the case, it must take him forever to get ready. You wonder if it’s the layering that makes him look so big or if he’s naturally built that way.

You try to suppress the image of your lieutenant naked and redirect your attention to the captain’s briefing. You look at Price, who is pointing at something on the map, and notice Ghost staring at you from the corner of your eye. His eyes move slowly, from your face down to your arms, and he narrows his eyes at the sight. He unclasps his hands from behind his back, brings them to the front and wraps them around himself, mimicking your stance. He looks back up at you, tilts his head and raises one of his eyebrows.

You immediately drop your arms to your sides and mouth an apology at him. He shakes his head at you and returns to his original position with his hands behind his back. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they are already fixed on the person sitting next to you.

Price continues the briefing, and you try to absorb the information while battling the chill that creeps through your uniform. You struggle to keep your arms to your sides but, your efforts go in vain since you shiver whenever the wind blows in the tent.

The lieutenant, on the other hand, doesn’t let you off that easy. He picks up on every move you make like a fucking sensor. Your shoulders hunch forward, and he throws quick glimpses at you, signalling you to sit up straight. Sometimes, you place your hands in your pockets, and he widens his eyes at the sight, forcing you to put them back on the table. You absentmindedly slip your hands under your thighs one last time, and you see him taking a few steps back and beginning to walk around the table.

You stiffen up. As if the cold morning breeze wasn’t persecuting enough, now you have another—much worse—threat to fear. You follow Ghost with your peripheral vision while trying to focus on Price, but he disappears behind you.

You hear him fiddling with something—the soldiers across from you throw peeks above your head and then at each other. You try to pick up on their expressions. Unfortunately, you aren’t as good at decoding faces as he is.

There’s a hand brushing your chair, tucking something on its backrest. The same gloved hand nudges your shoulder once and points at the back.

You look over your shoulder.

It’s a cloth. You turn your upper body and take a closer look.

It’s a scarf; his scarf.

You turn to look at him, and he gestures for you to drape it over your shoulders as he walks back to the captain. You obey and lift it from the chair. It’s still warm to the touch. You throw it on your shoulders and wrap it tighter around yourself. His residual body heat is still trapped in the garment. It feels like a hug, and you fight the urge to bury your nose in and smell it. You forget the morning breeze, the upcoming drill, and his non-verbal taunting.

Because the morning breeze was there yesterday, and it will be here tomorrow. It is you who pitched a tent in its path.

Because the upcoming drill will eventually end, and you will get to rest. You just need to endure it first.

Because it wasn’t taunting on his part; it was his way of showing concern. And a teeny tiny bit of care.

You turn around and see Ghost taking back his position next to the captain. He doesn’t look at you again for the rest of the briefing. You wish he would. His scarf looks great on you.

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[lokisgoodgirl]

Successional Pleasure: The Rite (II)

A Masterlist for The Rite is here A link to my regular Masterlist is here Summary: (2) Loki arranges a meeting, and you're offered the opportunity of a lifetime (w/c 4.8k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Thirsting for unattainable royals. Language. Heavy petting. Ridiculous Asgardian HC lore. Smuttish.

This morning the palace criers announced mandatory palace court attendance for all of Asgard.

Word travels fast, you muse as another person shoves into your shoulder; especially when the Odinsons will be in full ceremonial dress.

A swell ripples through the crowd, pulsing forward. Only one row of people stand in front of you, and the guards lining the jostling mass are becoming impatient.

You always make an effort for these events; everyone does. However bland and self-aggrandising the subject matter (and with the Allfather, when is it not?) – one never knows who’ll attention you’ll draw. But this time, it’s different.

This time, as you fixed your hair and let your solitary maid tighten the laces of your dress – there was only one person you wanted to impress. Him. Because this time, for the first time, he may actually notice you.

But that’s madness, you think as you try and focus. His lovers are legendary. He has his pick of…anyone. Literal deities.

But then, the memory of Prince Loki’s glistening chest emerging from the palace baths with wet hair plastered over his brow as he grunted through his orgasm erupts in your mind. That’s a memory not easily forgotten. In fact, it’s very easily encouraged. And each time you think of it, more layers appear.

In the extended, delusional version, he crosses the pool, the lapping water licking around his proud cock snug to his stomach as he wages a path to cage you by the stone edge and—

Trumpets blare. “They’re here,” a woman beside you squeals. Her hand flies to yours, clawing with unhinged excitement. The guards straighten, spears thudding against marble in ceremonial greeting.

He probably does that shit all the time; wanking in the palace baths with people he doesn’t know. He won’t see you amongst thousands of faces. That’s madness. But when it came to Loki Odinson, didn’t that make it more likely? Nerves tighten your stomach. The glint of their ostentatious headwear is the first sign of approach; two small figures against the expanse of the ancient doors floor to ceiling of the hall. Cheers thunders like a burst dam through a canyon as they move in sync down the wide aisle, each set of guards they pass thunking their staff in salute. Each thud made your pussy clench. And finally, you catch sight of his face.

It's the picture of haughty expectation at the wild crowds losing their minds as he passes. Every slice and draw of his bone structure is set like marble. He’s above it all; stunning decorative armour that would be absolutely no use in battle accenting broad shoulders at sharp angles. Impeccable posture, as ever. Today, the prince wears full leathers beneath – ridiculously fitted trousers which melded seamlessly to a forest green tunic stitched in golden trim.

To complete the act of war that’s his outfit, a stiff collar cut to the curve of his jawline sweeps up to his earlobes; a solitary curl of ebony hair lying against the leather, freed from his helmet. Thor wears the same red and garish gold he always does, beaming greedily at the crowds.

Your eyes roam over Loki’s sweeping entrance and you smile to yourself that the last time you’d seen him – he’d been naked. The woman beside you begins to breathe heavily as they draw closer. You have no idea, you smirk.

Loki’s cape billows with theatrical elegance down the open aisle, and you wonder briefly if his magic has something to do with it. Thor’s certainly doesn’t flutter around his ankles with the same effortless gravitas. Thor’s doesn’t undulate with every stride, timed with the military precision of its master’s thighs.

The guard in front of you lifts his spear, ready to thrust it to the marble floor. You hold your breath, biting your lip, their glory radiating with each falling step. And then, time seems to stop. Because then, Loki, Prince of Asgard, looks at you. His eyes flicker to the side, narrowing softly in your direction. A low dimple in his cheek flashes, only for a moment. And then - -thunk

The metal clang makes you jump out your skin, and by the time you get your bearings, the princes have moved on. They each face the platform, sinking on one knee with bowed heads while Odin pats down the cheers. He begins to rumble on, something about war, or tradition or blah blah.

The dark prince’s jawline is a work of art as he kneels in performatively rapt attention. With each swallow, his cheekbones flash. The golden helmet highlights the harsh lines of his face, lids dropping every few minutes as he struggles not to roll his eyes. You smile.

“Oh that’s good,” the woman beside you hums. You frown at her, concentration broken. It was her turn to frown. She shakes her head, gazing back to Odin. “Thor reached a treaty with Muspelheim.”

The next hour passes slowly, and for once, you’re grateful. When Odin stops, it’s the Crown Prince’s turn to regale the audience of thousands with his diplomatic success. Only half-listening, you use the time to your advantage, perving on Loki kneeling on the polished floor with those long, pale fingers clasped around one knee. When the dark prince stands, the rest of the high-nobles do the same. He whips his cape back, allowing the crowd a gratuitous view of his muscular ass and thighs flexing beneath tight leather while he unfurls. Loki’s imperious eyes scan the heaving crowd with an air of disdain. The look rolls like a sea wind, cold and unforgiving until you feel its weight land on you.

You’re pinned by that stare as plainly as though it’s his hands; his body. Goosebumps ripple beneath your dress. I see you, he mouths silently, subtly, before his gaze falls on his brother once more.

The royal family wave a final time before slipping to the doors at the back of the Great Hall. Loki’s attention hadn’t fallen upon you again, but the waiting. The anticipation; it was exhausting.

Around you, the bustle of a thousand conversations grows to a roar. The front rows of the crowd begin to file out and follow the same path the royal family had taken through the golden doors. High-court, only. Friends and family, that sort of thing. A huge curtain hangs behind the throne, buffeting gently from some unseen breeze. It’s a rich amber with threads of green and red and blue, shimmering patterns that no mortal fingers could accomplish woven over centuries, millennia even.

Gods, noted warriors and chancellors all dutifully bow to the empty throne before circling around the platform and disappearing behind the curtain. On their way to a feast, no doubt.

A set of bird-like fingers wrap around your wrist. With a yank you pull it away, whipping round to see the expectant face of a young boy.

“Get out of here,” you snarl. Pickpockets are rife at these sorts of things. The boy stares. Puberty hadn’t darkened a shadow on his skin, and despite his age, he was un-phased by the abruptness.

“You are requested,” he says, bored eyes searching your face. People jostle by your shoulders in annoyance. “By who?” you scoff. They’d try anything these days.

The boy tugs your hand. “Requested,” he says again as though it explains everything, turning and pulling you earnestly towards the line of guards. With a single glance at an insignia on his tunic, they part for him.

You traipse behind him at pace, clutching long skirts in one fist while eyes in the crowd follow you down the marble aisle against the sea of people and behind the mysterious curtain. “Name?” a voice grunts.

You look from the back of the boy’s head to the bulky figure in front of you. He’s dressed in robes of scarlet, the hint of a dagger’s hilt beneath a thick belt. A wiry red beard hangs down his chest, resting on a buckle of black steel. “I know you not…” he sneers slowly. “No names,” the boy snaps. He barely came up to the gatekeeper’s stomach. “She’s been requested.” The gatekeeper’s face crumples and his eyes dart to the emblem on the boy’s chest before standing aside, holding his tongue.

The youth gestures with his head to follow him, and you do…. down a short corridor flooded with buttery light. Delicate jangling of lutes and laughter ring to ornate cloisters, a glittering view of Asgard below the balcony-walkway taking your breath away. “Hurry,” the boy snips without a backwards look. “Master is not a patient man.”

He claps his small hands three times and a set of golden doors at the end of the cloister swing open. Thor comes into view mid-conversation, still wearing his ceremonial armour, a goblet spilling over the sides clutched in one hand as he gesticulates wildly. There’s a rumble of polite laughter. Your hand shoots out, grabbing the boy’s shoulder.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mutter. He shoots a scathing glance over his shoulder, casting a salty look down to your feet and back again. “You have been—”

“—requested,” you finish petulantly. “Yeah, I know.”

Your ribs thrum as you walk through the doors, pulled by invisible hands. There can only be one person who harbours the desire to have you at this exclusive gathering. And even that’s beyond insanity. Has he mistaken you for someone else? The boy, that is. He’s a barely more than a child. You were about to ask where you should go, when you realise he’s gone. Casting a frantic look around the room it’s evident that familiar groups have already formed, jokes cracking in waves; picking at piles of nuts and fruit and meats. Frigga herself stands by an ornate silver trolley, ladling wine into a goblet while Lofn whispers in her ear. Your knees buckle slightly. There he is.

A small figure works through folds of silk and armoured angles to the back of the room. You follow him, before halting abruptly, steadying yourself against a table. The boy’s come to a stop in front of a shadowed figure, exchanging a conspiratorial nod. Loki Odinson claps him on the back, raising a goblet to his lips. He rests against a pillar, choosing to stay apart from the revels. Watching. Waiting. His eyes meet yours as he sips; dark and dangerous over a rim of gold. One brow twitches upwards in, you presume, greeting. Sweaty palms run slip the front of your dress and you fight the sudden urge to run. It’s pale blue, the finest you own. Which isn’t saying much. The same colour as his eyes, you realise.

The Prince lowers the goblet, cocking his head. He’s still adorned with the ensemble his part in the day’s festivities required save one, the helmet. Dark curls spill freely over the shoulders of the cape fastened to guards beneath, intricate folds of fabric worked to perfection.

He raises a hand, forefinger beckoning twice in subtle succession before lowering it again. Just like the baths, you think with a shameful thrill. Your gaze darts to faces you’ve only seen in paintings around the court as you glide over, trying to look like you belong - but no one bats an eye. Loki unhooks one foot from behind the other, nudging himself off the column. Leather boots gape teasingly around his calves. You wonder, if you beg like a common trollop, if he would fuck you wearing those boots. Only those boots—

“You’re not wearing green,” the Prince drawls. You open your mouth and close it again, irritatingly mute while his blue irises smoulder. “Usually they wear green.” You press your lips together, collecting yourself. “Who?” “Those trying to bed me,” Loki says.

“I’m not trying to—” The prince waves a dismissive hand. “—Catch my attention, then.”

You feel your cheeks heat under scrutiny, a very obvious swallow working its way down your throat. “I don’t know what you mean your Highness,” you say. “You summoned me.”

“Indeed, I did. So I imagine I must have a very good reason,” the Prince murmurs. He brings the pad of a fingertip to his lower lip, brushing it across the skin as you stand in silent bemusement. “Loki! Did you send for a jester? What fun!” You inhale sharply as Fandral slides into view beside your shoulder. His hair is on point this evening, a lush wave cresting over his forehead and swept to the side as his eyes trail to your feet and back to your face. “Oh, my mistake. Just someone getting a little a carried away with the rouge, it seems.” Your stomach tightens. “I’m leaving, your Highness,” you say with a lacklustre bow and a bitter taste in your mouth. “But you do not have my permission,” Loki growls quietly. His feet come into view on the floor and you raise your head, inhaling the sweet breath from his lungs clouding your lips. “More wine, Loki?” Fandral asks brightly, already pouring into Loki’s goblet. The prince’s eyes don’t leave yours, but his mouth hardens.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” he asks through gritted teeth. Fandral looks at you with mock-surprise. “Oh yes, most recent conquest is it? Come for a peek behind the gilded curtain before you’re sent back to the depths of banality? I thought he’d run out of new faces.” He winks; it makes your stomach churn.   “She’s not a conquest,” Loki says, hovering the goblet by his lips. “Not one of mine, anyway.”

Your eyes dart to his and catch them narrow slightly. Fandral looks genuinely confused. “Well, what then? Why is she here? Who is she?”

Suddenly there’s a loud crash to the side. Thor stumbles against the table laden with wine-soaked pears and pastries and mounds of tartlets, knocking a pile of cold meats to the ground. He wobbles after them, kneeling on the floor and beginning to pick them off the stones as if they were jewels. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Loki mutters, and you feel the gentle pressure of a hand on your waist. “Walk with me,” he urges in your ear and a shudder rolls down your spine.

“Loki?” Fandral calls as the figures around you start to blur and the Prince manoeuvres you through the crowd like a feather. “Loki, I must speak to you about the…matter, I’ll…later. Yes, later. Quite.” A wall of fresh air skates over your skin. You hadn’t realised how warm it was inside. The two of you come to a stop at the wall of the balcony, nails skimming against polished marble. Loki clears his throat.

“I apologise for Fandral he’s…” Loki looks up from beneath his lashes, a performative sheepishness softening his face, “well, himself.” You stifle a laugh, focusing on the edge of the moonlit waterfalls in the distance. Silence hangs between you, made louder by the jumbled festivities inside. “Why am I here, Prince Loki?” you whisper, not daring to look at him. “If it’s about what happened in the baths, I won’t tell a soul I swear—” “—It’s not.” Irritation begins to brew in your stomach. “Well then Fandral has a point. Why am I here? I’m no one.” “Exactly.” A prickle of heat rises up your neck, stinging your ears. “Am I a joke to you, your Highness?”

Loki’s eyes flashing in moonlight, but he says nothing. It stings.

“You bring me here to make a fool out of me in front of your friends? In front of Frigga? Frigga.” “I needed to see if any of them knew you.” Loki’s voice is eerily calm, his gaze as unflinching as a cliff jutting into night. “And clearly, they do not. Fandral would recognise you if they did; that little fishwife knows absolutely everything.” “Why would they know me? And what does it matter?” “It matters a great deal. To me, at least. And to you, perhaps.” You push a strand of hair back from your forehead, hating that its damp. The skin feels hot. Hot and flustered and clammy with embarrassment and…shit, arousal. Can he tell?

Black strings of lax curl blow gently around Loki’s jawline, pale lips stained with wine. “Tell me, my Lady…have you heard of the Rite of Successional Pleasure?” he asks, and suddenly all other noise vanishes from your ears save the hum of his voice.

Loki’s eyes run down the blue chiffon of your robe, wondering if he could peel it off and cast it skating across the stone with a solitary swipe of his hand. Allowing you a moment to collect yourself, he decides that yes, he could. “Surely just a legend, my Prince…” you answer demurely, busying your hands and staring off into the distance as an unmistakable waft of heat courses from your bare neckline. He licks his lips, feeling a smirk curl the corners.

“Aren’t we all?” he purrs. Their eyes meet. “I assure you it is very real. A relic, to be sure. But real enough. And I require a partner to enact this Rite, else my succession to Asgard’s throne will not be entrenched in law. I have waited too long as it is, as I keep being reminded.”

“That’s very…interesting,” you say.

Loki straightens. He hadn’t taken you for a dullard, but he does appreciate the delayed gratification of enthusiasm at the proposal. Loki can hear your heart thud faster; he wonders how much of that blood is flushing to your sex beneath the gown billowing about your ankles. You glance at him and quickly look away. It makes Loki’s stomach twist. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps events in the bath-house were simply…opportunity. Or worse, fear. You clear your throat. “What is it, exactly? The Rite of Successional…” “—Pleasure,” Loki finishes abruptly. He rolls his shoulders back, steadying the flurry of unwelcome nerves in his chest.

“One of my family’s farcical traditions. When Asgard’s twin moons are in perfect equilibrium within the heavens, once every half millennia – eligible members of the royal family suitable for rule must, in order to be considered for finite succession, perform the Rite.” “Which is?”

Loki’s eyes fall down the curve of your neck, hovering on your moist lips. He’d thought of nothing else in the days since the bath-house; those lips sucked between his teeth, stretching around his cock; swollen and wet and…

“Pleasure.” It comes out sterner than intended. “To be given, only. A king must not just be skilled in diplomacy, in combat, in war and sacrifice, but in giving pleasure,” he says, imitating the cadence of his father’s voice with a caricatural wave of his hand. “How else can Asgard’s citizens know we are to be trusted, to be benevolent, if is not documented in the annals?”

“You can’t be serious,” you say. “I thought it was a joke, like the other things.” “Contrary to belief, I can be very serious indeed, little owl,” Loki replies with a smile. It fades. The weight of the pet name plucked from nowhere hangs in the air like smoke as you fidget with a fold of your dress. Gods, how he hates that it’s blue. “I still don’t see what it has to do with me,” you posture meekly. Loki tenses, words hissing between his teeth. “Bifrost’s blood, woman. I’m asking you to be my partner for the Rite. Must I carve it in stone?”

The widen of your eyes makes his stomach flutter and you attempt a clumsy curtsey which makes Thor’s staggered collapse among the strewn meats look elegant. “I…I don’t know what to…I—” Suddenly, you look up. “Is it witnessed?” “Of course.” Horror blossoms in your eyes. “Oh…it’s very tasteful,” Loki says, inspecting his nails. “Much more so than the Ceremony of the Sacred Seed, I assure you. It relies more on…aural methods. For the most part.”

“I’ve never been invited to that,” you reply absently, and Loki notes that your fingers have curled around his wrist armour, steadying yourself. “When is the…the moon thing?” “Five nights from now,” he says, and your jaw drops. “I understand I’ve left it rather late, but I really am in rather a bind.” The irony of him practically begging this unknown woman of the court to bring her the greatest ecstasy she’s ever know wasn’t lost on Loki, but for the moment at least…he decides to restrain his natural urge to remind her of that fact.

“Your reputation will only be enhanced, I assure you,” he adds. “It’s a great honour. And I am, if I may say, quite renowned for my skill in that department.” “Why me?” she asked. And there it was. He grimaced. “Don’t lie to me,” she added bravely, and his grimace deepened. “The Rite will only be valid if the recipient has never known the touch of a god. Or, more specifically their…essence. Our essences must never have touched each other. The punishment is severe; there are tomes and everything; rules…how I loathe them,” he says, offering a weak smile. Realisation blossoms in your eyes. “And…I’m afraid my roster has been rather full these past centuries.” A small laugh erupts from your throat that makes it incredibly difficult not to shut you up with his mouth. “Surely you can’t have fucked everyone in the high-court?”

Loki bit back a laugh of his own. “Rather brazen, aren’t you?” he says, narrowing his eyes. “Regrettably, my options in that circle are limited to Fandral. And I’m afraid I cannot bring myself to give him the satisfaction he most desperately desires; it’s far too much fun tormenting him.” You raise an eyebrow and Loki scoffs, smoothing a curl back. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. I know what they must say about me.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, your Highness,” you say with a conspiratorial smile.

“Liar,” Loki replies softly. The sparkle of your mischief fades, and he finds he immediately misses it. “So, I’m…a last resort, then?” “Somewhat, yes.” You bristle, goosebumps rising along your bare arms in the evening chill. Loki watches them flare, fighting the urge to soothe them with his fingertips. Another eruption of his brother’s drunken laughter bounces from the archways.

“What happened in the baths,” she says, eyeing him warily. “Wouldn’t that count? Wouldn’t your…uh, essence have…travelled?”

A small noise scratches from Loki’s throat. “Far too diluted. Fortunately…we were rather far apart.” She moves a step closer, looking up at him beneath her lashes. Her scent makes his mouth water. “And besides, if memory serves you made rather a hasty exit.” “If I agree to this, what’s in it for me?” you ask with a coolness he isn’t expecting. He frowns. “Aside from the obvious?” You shoot him a scathing glare. “You’ll be an honoured guest of Asgard’s highest echelons until the ceremony; luxurious quarters, the finest garments…yours to keep, naturally. A feast in your honour, the honour of my escort, a place in Asgard’s history, and of course…my eternal thanks.” He waits until you turn fractionally towards him before deploying a calculated wink. Your expression is stamped with suspicion, and yet he sees the intrigue nestled beneath the veneer of resistance. He’s not surprised when you shuffle closer, glancing over your shoulder. “Is there um…practice, involved?” Loki feels his brows shoot up. “Practice? Norns haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said? Our…”

He whips his cape as he spins, eyeing over his shoulder, catching the glint of Fandral’s flaxen hair hovering by the feasting table. “Our evidence of arousal cannot be in contact before the Rite…not a single drop, lest the entire ceremony be declared null and my honour as a successor questioned.” “Right,” you say stiffly. “Of course.” He can feel the heat of embarrassment radiating from your skin.

You need her, fool. Loki clears his throat with a dry rattle. “But we may…get to know each other. That is expected, at least. If you agree, of course.” You turn to him, eyes shimmering in moonlight. Loki wonders again how he could possibly have missed such a rare jewel in the drab sameness of Asgard’s court. He straightens as your finger runs over the metal at his wrist, trailing up the hem of his cape. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” you ask. A thick swallow works down his throat, his trousers tightening as you add, “What do the rules say about that?” Suddenly it feels as though he could be three-hundred again, unfamiliar nerves sizzling in his belly like fire. “I…there is no impediment to that particular act, no.” “Don’t you think it would be wise to…make sure we’re compatible before you make such a momentous decision?” A flush creeps up Loki’s neck above the high collar of his tunic as the clink of goblets and laughter continue inside the archway and he’s thankful for darkness. A muscle in his jawline twitches, fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides. There it was again, that audacity. So wilful, and yet…

In a flash his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you back with him into shadow. He slips a hand around your back, cushioning your spine as you meet rough stone with a gasp. Your sultry eyes look up at him with manufactured innocence.

“Let’s spare ourselves the virginal theatrics,” he hums, drawing his nose up the line of your cheekbone. The shiver that racks your body makes the toes in his boots curl. “You will be my partner for this sacred Rite?” You catch his lips with the brush of an autumn breeze, grazing against the words. The scent of you overwhelms him; a deep forest tang with overtures of a fragrant sweetness he can’t place.

He groans into the kiss, hungrier with every work of his mouth against the reach of your tongue. Loki’s hands slide up the swell of your breasts, each moan shivering from your throat into his making him want to explode.

As your fingers card through his hair, he realises the other hand is working down the harsh wall of tunic, sliding down his abdomen, hungry for the engorged lust strapped to his hip. There is a barrier, he thinks wildly, tempering his fear. There is a barrier. You squeeze. “Norns, woman…” he growls between gritted teeth, steadying a forearm against the wall behind your head as his gnawing kisses work down your neck. Stone veins spread in crunching crackles under the pressure. “Loki,” you gasp beneath him, bucking into the press of his armour into your endless curves. The realisation he can’t sate it hits with sudden, unwelcome clarity.

“Far too familiar,” he chides against your ear with a feigned derision that makes another moan snake from your throat. Loki’s cock throbs harder. “I remain your Prince, and you will address me as such.” You crush his lips with a kiss full of such desire Loki thinks he might shatter. His cock rubs against your stomach, harsh friction sending jolts of pleasure lancing through his body and suddenly, you break from him with a pant. “Do you want to know my name now, my Prince?”

His saliva rings your mouth; lips swollen and puffed. He nods twice, keeping his chin low on the second as his eyes flutter closed as you lean to his ear, whispering the word. Now that he knows it, he can’t imagine it being anything else.

“…and I’m no one’s last resort, not even a god,” you say, meeting his eyes. Loki steps back, jaw hardening as you smooth down the front of your dress. “I didn’t mean to imply—” “—Well, you did. So, if this still seems like a good idea in the morning, I expect to see you again under less…crowded circumstances.” Loki bit back the urge to protest, but as much as he was loathe to admit it…she had a point. Preparations for the Rite were usually conducted over months, and as he widened his stance, clasping his hands behind his back, a familiar coiffured sheaf of golden hair glinted and disappeared with suspicious urgency. “Unless you’d rather partake with Fandral?”

Loki’s stomach flips but he swallows down the urge to answer. “You’re familiar with my apprentice?” he asks. You nod. “He shall come for you at noon tomorrow.” A small smile flickers at your glistening lips. “Very well, your Highness,” you say, sinking into a curtsey that makes Loki’s cock ache before rising and gliding towards the open archway. He rolls his lips together, fighting the urge to follow you – but he’s already shown his hand too heavily tonight.

As you pass through the arch, Thor wobbles in the other direction, casting a quizzical glance backwards. “There you are, brother,” he slurs, slumping onto the balcony. His arm makes a heavy gesture towards the party, swinging wildly. “She is the one?” Loki bristles. “Yes, brother.”

“Finally. Norns preserve us, I thought you’d never make it. You know she is not suitable for the ceremony if she has been...sampled, already?” he asks as both eyebrows rise. Loki scoffs and throws his brother an incredulous stare. “I know that,” he snarls. “What do you take me for, some kind of rube?” Thor sighs, picking a slice of cured boar from his breastplate and dangling into his mouth. “Let’s hope you can satisfy her, then – in every way. For all our sakes.” Loki’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “If you can scrape past the requirements, we both know I shall have no issue.” “Mmm,” his brother hums. “If it wasn’t for the other matter her response will be measured on.”

“It’s all in hand, brother,” he lies, ignoring the thump of his heart, watching the bob of your head as you wind between intoxicated council members towards the door. “Five moons is more than enough time for that.” And beside him, Thor snorts.

Chapter Three: Measurement The Masterlist for the Rite is here Tags in comments (≧ヮ≦) 💕

[hitomisuzuya]

Catboy! Scaramouche x fem!reader Smut. Scenting. Breeding. Possessive behavior. A dash of Somnophilia. Catboy!Scara in heat. Choking. Some humor. Yandere!Scaramouche

I know I should be working on requests, but I have always wanted to try my hand at writing something like this. It's never a bad thing to expand one's horizons. I may end up making it a series.

You found Scaramouche injured and starving on your way home one day. You couldn't bear to leave him out in the rain in pain with no food, so you took him home with you. He hissed a little a you when you picked him up, and wrapped him in your jacket.

With some bristling from him, you got his leg bandaged and got him dried off. He turned his nose up anything you gave him to eat. He seemed to have a sensor for anything bought cheap at the grocery store. He finally found tuna that was on the more expensive side, and some warm milk suitable.

You stayed up all night with Scaramouche, reading to him. He lay curled up on one of your pillows on the other end of the bed. You were patient with him, since it seemed like he had been through a lot, and it was typical for cats to be stand offish to begin with.

You didn't fall asleep until he did. When you opened your eyes the next day, you saw that he had moved a little closer to you on the bed, peering curiously at you. He scampered backwards on the bed the second you woke up.

You affectionately named him Scarameow, to which he hissed at, but gradually accepted. You nursed the grumpy ball of fluff back to health. You noticed that little by little, he peered around corners, glaring at you, getting a little closer to you everyday.

Until one day, he hoped up on the couch while you were watching TV. He curled up in a ball next to you, and you swore you could hear purring for a few moments.

You hesitantly reached out to pet him. Usually, he fought you every step of the way when you wanted to show him affection, hissing at you and clawing at your hands. Sometimes he stayed in your lap for a little bit of time.

He hissed quietly at you before accepting your touch. He even seemed to like it because he moved his head into your hand. That night, he hoped up on the bed with you, deciding he wanted to fall asleep with you that night.

One day, you heard him meowing, motioning up at your bookshelf with his paw. "You want me to read to you?" You asked, to which he flicked his tail..and nodded? You thought it was funny how he even seemed to pick the book. It was the book you'd read to him from the first night you brought him home.

After that, Scaramouche started acting different around you. He was distant, avoiding you whenever he possibly could. You see, his rut was approaching and he'd accidentally walked into your room while you were changing.

You hardly saw him for two or three days.

One day, you came home to hear husky moans coming from the living room. You were startled to discover that your grumpy purple cat was nowhere to be found, but a boy with cat ears and a tail.

He laying on the couch, fisting his cock while he rutted into his hand. You could see layers of cum on his hand. His ears flattened instantly when he saw you. "Shit!" He cursed, hissing as he leapt up off the couch.

He went back into his cat form, darting off into the spare bedroom he always hide from you in. You now discovered that you didn't have a cat, but a hybrid, who grumbled that his name was Scaramouche when he came out of hiding, dressed in clothes that you didn't know where they came from.

Scaramouche had been up to things when you weren't home. He was scenting your clothes and your bed sheets with his scent. And in the middle of the night, in his cat form, he was scenting you while you slept. It wasn't long before he started sleeping next you in his human form, holding you curled against his chest.

He'd done nothing but jack himself off to thoughts of you naked when you weren't in the house. He would rub your panties on his cock, his indigo eyes squeezed shut as he fantasized about pinning you underneath him and fucking you full of his cum.

Your scent was starting to overwhelm him, you didn't know that you were walking around smelling like him. You were his. You shouldn't want to leave him alone when you went out. He started protesting when you told him you had to go out, and he insisted on going with you.

The night you told him you were going to animal sanctuary see a fox, Scaramouche got especially grumpy. He hated that you were going there, hated that you might be bringing another hybrid home.

He avoided you the entire time when you got back home. He crawled into bed with you after you fell asleep. He scented you, pumping his cock between your thighs, making sure his cum got on the insides of your thighs and near your cunt.

Scaramouche knew he couldn't keep doing this forever, you were sure to wake up during it. He'd come dangerously close to fucking you while you slept, itching to claw at and bite into your skin and mark you up as much as possible.

He had to do something. You were accepting and even seemed to like it the few times he'd gotten handsy with you in small fits of lust that he couldn't hold back, biting your lips swollen when he kissed you. He hadn't been able to stop his hands from roaming over your body.

Scaramouche never forgot the feeling of you shivering from his touches for the first time.

When being around you during his rut became too much to bear, Scaramouche pinned you against the wall, grinding against you as he licked up your neck. "Let me fuck you, let me breed you," He groaned, fighting the urge to tear off your clothes as he grinded his throbbing cock between your legs, "I don't think I can hold myself back anymore."

He enjoyed reducing you to a moaning, drooling mess underneath him, your fingernails clawing into his back. He fucked his cock so deep into you your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

His teeth ground and sucked dark bruises onto your skin, his fingers pressing more bruises just as deep possessively on your body.

Scaramouche hissed angrily when your hand reached out to pull one of his ears, a knee jerk reaction to your walls clamping tight around his cock as he kissed it deep into your sweet spot. His ears were always sensitive, his cock throbbing from having his ear pulled. "You slut," He wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing until you squirted on his cock.

His body shuddered in pleasure when he cummed inside of you. After fucking his cum inside of you, he licked you clean, eating you out until you were babbling and begging to cum inside of you again.

"What a cock drunk slut you are, you want to be bred that badly, hm?" Scaramouche gave your clit a few long sicks before he flipped you over, tugging your hips up to push his cock back inside of you.

During the rest of his heat, Scaramouche kept you isolated from everyone else, fucking you sometimes from hours in fits of frenzied lust.

As the day of when the fox hybrid was supposed to be coming home with you, he got especially aggressive and dominant with you while he was fucking you. It was already driving him crazy how you were starting to smell like the fox hybrid whom he'd heard you call Childe.

Imagine your surprise when one day, Scaramouche turned up with two other hybrids that looked nearly identical to him. They were named Wanderer and Kunikuzushi.

[sweetimpurity]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ day 18!!! sorry it's so late! it's been a day... not proofread CW: mythical creature fuck, siren, hypnosis ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

It happened on a windy cold night upon your father’s massive ship. The men were drunk and falling over themselves while you were enchanted, called by the sea. A flint of light across the water, drawing your eye and your body to the waves. With a freezing splash you are submerged, gasping and treading, through the deep creature infested waters. Black as the sky and lapping against your cheeks as you try to swim. Chilling you to the bone, your dress becoming heavy from the wet weight. But mindlessly you tread, a high shrill tone carrying across the ocean and to your ears. Like a whistle, with high and lows, seeming to echo off the rocky shore and bounce around our mind, calling you closer, beckoning you near.

“Hah…. ngh…” You grunt and sigh, laying your cheek to the rocky shore and hearing the hum intensified ten fold. This must be the source. You look back, your father’s ship still anchored at sea. Waiting for you to quench this need for answers. Freezing dark water laps against your chest, getting in your eyes, making them sting. Panting for air and holding onto the edge, trying to pull yourself up, your knee gets scraped. You hiss. “Agh… chh” A few drops of red dribbling down your shin and into the water as you pull yourself up the boulder.

The hum continues. Numbing your mind, making you hazy. Not much room for thought except the call to the source. Your freezing hands push at the material of your soaked dress. Pulling at the layers and pushing them off. The strings of the corset pulled by your fingers and snapped under the strain. Just take it off, it tells you. You feel. Pulling at your clothes until you’re bare. Naked feet patting on the rocks and letting your dress fall into the sea. Submerging and the tide sweeps it away. And your body is drawn to the source. The hum telling you to come closer.

You’re chilled to the bone, walking across the rocks and climbing to follow the hum as it vibrates through your skull. Following the sound, the noise, the prophecy telling you to keep going. Until you’re at a tide pool. A pool somehow lit from within. Step inside, it says. And you’re unable to fight the urge. Stepping into the water. Naked and bleeding at the knee. Your blood mixing and swirling in the small ripples. Walking into the small but deep pool until you’re at your neck. And the hum finally stops. Your eyes closed. Until it tells you to open them.

When you do, you see him. Right in front of your eyes. Is he a figment of your imagination? A symptom of too many days at sea? A wish upon the north star come true? His face is kind but his gaze is dark. Dangerous.

You can’t say a word. Is it because he won’t let you or because you don’t know what to say? “Your blood is sweet…” He whispers. It echos in your head. Shivers cover your skin. His hands on your body, on the curve of your waist, the arch of your back.

“Leave now if you wish. I’ll give you one chance…” He whispers but the words seem to amplify in your ears. Giving you the chance to flee if you really don’t accept his call. If you won’t accept what he is about to do. Your mind is hazy, almost dizzy. Standing there still, looking in his eyes. His face seems to remind you of something. Maybe a wish… a dream. “I wish to stay…” You whisper so softly. You can hardly hear your own voice but his gaze darkens at your submission, leaning into your neck. His lips pressing to your throat. Until he bites.

“Ngh!” You whimper, his arms locking around you, holding you closer and pushing you back, making ripples and swirls in the water through the wake. Against the pool wall. The rocks digging into your back. His fangs piercing into the soft warm flesh of your neck, licking and suckling. Moaning and humming against your skin. And your mind goes hazy at the euphoria that follows.

Your moans fill the small rock cave as he presses to you. Over and over you cry out for him. Accepting his thickness through your warm velvet walls. His cock protruding through a slit in his scales. His long, scaled, cold tail wraps around one of your ankles to keep your legs spread apart. This is what he called you for. For he senses your need, smelled your pheromones across the sea, knows you long to be fucked and filled. And he longs to pump you full.

He had planned to kill you. To drain your blood and take your strength and life for himself. But you swallow him up, taking him so well, so deep. Your sounds are music to his ears, like your own siren song, such pretty sounds for a human, your fingers in his hair, on his chest, your pleads for more, your begs for it to never end.

“You’re mine… now you’re mine… we’re bound. No human is to touch you, do you understand?” He pants in your ear, his deep voice echoing and reverberating in your ear, in your head, like waves against the shore, licking the places his fangs pierced through, soothing the ache in your skin.

“So beautiful… so sweet” He says, lifting his head and admiring your flushed face with his dark crimson eyes. Eyes that almost glow in the scraps of moonlight peeking through the rocks.

He can feel you squeezing around him, working your way up to release. And he smiles. Sharp canines glinting against the sparkling water. Thrusting into you harder, his tip reaching your cervix, kissing the entrance to your fertile womb. And when you cry out in ecstasy he growls in your ear. Releasing deep inside, shooting deep and hot, in stark contrast to the freezing waters that surround you.

“M-ahhhngh!” You scream. Your cries echoing through the rocks and across the ocean. Waves beating against the sound like a drum.

And you suddenly awake. Rocking on the ship deck. The morning sun rising. A few of your fathers men doing their duties. Looking down, you’re wrapped in a sail. Like a blanket. Seeing it’s been ripped off the edge of the ship quite haphazardly and wrapped around you. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe the nights at sea have made you mad. But no. I couldn’t be. For the ache between your thighs is a reminder, a promise. That he’ll be calling you back again soon.

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[beomiracles]

for kinktober...

what about iceplay + blindfold + degradation for soobin 🫣

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

DAY : 7 CHOI SOOBIN + ICE PLAY & BLINDFOLDING — Your fingers dip in the cool liquid, smearing it across his hips and Soobin whines when your cold hand threatens to slip past the hem of his sweats. “You better start talking”, you snap, causing him to shudder as his body goes rigid.

Ice play is a form of temperature play wherein a piece of ice is drawn over various parts of the body on bare skin. — Blindfolds can be used to heighten a partner's senses.

pairings soobin x fem!reader warnings sub!soobin, (kind of mean)dom!reader, handjob, ice play (using ice cubes), blindfolding, soobin cries.

#serene adds ✎.. I've never incorporate any type of ice play before so this was certainly an experience, but I think it turned out okay?? gime ur verdicts :3 (the degradation part might be lacking a little... I apologise)

EVENT POST

Soobin’s body quivers beneath your own, his hips jerking forward as he draws in a sharp breath. You resist a small giggle, instead leaning down, fingers wandering up his naked chest before reaching his exposed throat. His head turns left, then right, then left again, blindly searching for you through the thick fabric that lays heavy across his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” The low drawl of your tongue causes visible goosebumps to rise across his skin and Soobin shudders as his head snaps in the direction of your voice. He swallows, adam's apple bobbing beneath the tips of your fingers. His lips part, as if to speak, but no words come out. — You huff, warm breath hitting his face before you sit back up, repositioning yourself on his lap as you pull a quiet whine from him. “Well go on, spit it out”, you say, your gaze falling on the glistening layer of water that coats his abdomen. 

Soobin only shakes his head, cheeks glowing red under your demands. “Fine”, you lean back with a heavy sigh, and he seems to relax for a moment, his chest deflating as he exhales. Oh how he should’ve seen the sinister smirk tugging at your lips, that would surely get him talking. But alas, you reach for the cooler behind you, grasping one of the many ice cubes between two of your fingers. It’s freezing in the palm of your hand, but you ignore the sensation, instead focusing on the way Soobin quietly breathes under you. 

He doesn’t see it coming, because how could he? The only warning he gets is the wicked laugh you’re unable to hide as your hand inches closer. — He gasps as the ice comes in contact with his skin. His body squirms beneath you as he tries to get away, much to no avail. You watch as his muscles tense, stomach flexing under the cold ice as his burning skin melts it away. Water slowly drips down his sides, pooling on the bed sheets. 

Your fingers dip in the cool liquid, smearing it across his hips and Soobin whines when your cold hand threatens to slip past the hem of his sweats. “You better start talking”, you snap, causing him to shudder as his body goes rigid. “That shouldn’t be too hard, should it? You talk an awful lot outside the bedroom, don’t you?” — You reach beneath the fabric of his sweats, venturing past his briefs as your icy fingers graze his throbbing cock. Soobin jolts forward, his head feebly shaking as he swallows a small noise of surprise. “Tell me”, you urge as your wet hand wraps around his shaft, earning a stifled moan from him. 

From there it doesn’t take long for his resolve to crumble. And moments later he’s a sobbing puddle in your palm. Soobin talked a lot, in fact he almost never shut up. But you’d told him to be quiet, and he was intent on following your orders. It wasn’t his fault that his restraints snapped as soon as you got your hands on his weeping dick. — He became a blabbering mess as the pleas and promises fell from his lips. 

“M-More please..” “I’ll make you feel good, nhhhgn, j-just give me more..!” “I promise I’ll be quiet!” “I can do better!” “J-Just give me more first!” 

You quickly realize why you’d told him to shut up in the first place. God he was annoying. “Soobin”, you huff, hand tightening around his cock and Soobin whimpers. “M’Sorry!” He exclaims, licking his dry lips as he tries to locate you under the blindfold. “I can do b-better! I promise!” There it is again. The empty vows he failed to live up to. Time and time again. You supposed you liked hearing him beg, you enjoyed his disoriented and disheveled state. But after a while it grew tiring. 

With your hand working up and down his cock, your other one reaches behind you to grasp yet another ice cube. And Soobin is still so blissfully unaware of your next move, his obliviousness was your favorite part. To strip him of all his senses and make him completely dumb before you. 

His rant comes to an abrupt end as the ice meets his lips. Soobin almost gags as you shove the cube between his teeth, his body jerking in surprise as he sputters under you. You hum, fingers tracing his clenched jaw as the ice cube dissolves in his mouth. “I like you better quiet”, you calmly state. 

Your gaze falls on the wet patches accumulating on the blindfold as Soobin cried. His tears find their way down his cheeks before joining the cold water that slides down his chin. He looked really pretty like that, all puffy and red in the face, wet with his own tears and icy water. — He groans as your thumb flicks over his tip, hips bucking up to meet your slow and deliberate movements. 

His glistening chest heaves, and you find yourself in awe of how completely worn out he looked. Yet as his orgasm approaches, he still searches for you, hand gripping at your hips as he pleads for you to let him see you. — “J-Jus wa–aa ee you-r f-aa-e” He slurs against the half melted ice cube, his nose now a light pink as he snivels. 

“Only if you promise to be quiet,” you say, to which he eagerly nods. With a small sigh you reach for the blindfold, letting the wet fabric fall from his eyes. The same eyes that immediately blink as they try to regain focus. When they land on you, they glow in a way that makes your stomach clench. Soobin’s eyes always seemed to make you lose your composure, and today was no different. 

His long and dark lashes flutter as he finishes all over your hand with a high-pitched moan, but they never fully shut. No, he keeps them trained solely on you as he pants, finally swallowing the last bit of ice with a small whimper. — He remains quiet after that, just like you’d told him to. Though one of his hands tentatively reaches for the hem of your shorts, a silent question lingering behind his big eyes.

kinktober taglist (send an ask to be added) — @sweetpotatogyu @aduh0308 @joieouioui @inkigayocamman @bambammtori @hkplushier @gyusoulz @eliluvsjjunie @velvetmoonlght @izzyy-stuff @hwanghyunjinismybae @lunathewritingcat @ninitorih @run4gyu @beestvng

© all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Boobies!

Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Summary:Your Stevie gets to spend some quality time with you and his girls.

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Steve Harrington is a boobs guy, Titfucking, Mentions of pornography, nothing else that I can think of (unless you think there’s something I missed, in which case; shoot me a message so I can tag it)

Word Count: 1521

Author's Note:I had this idea bouncing around my head for a while, and so I thought I’d get round to actually writing it. 

Simply put, Steve Harrington was a boob kind of guy. In his eyes, all boobs were good boobs. Big, or small, it didn't matter to him. 

You suspected as much to be true, because anytime you'd fallen asleep with him, he would end up spooned so close to you, holding you safe in his arms, his hand finding their places to settle over your boobs. Just feeling the soft weight of your tits in his palms was somewhat relaxing for him.

You also had your suspicions confirmed last summer, where you had decided to wear a tank top, to avoid wearing any unnecessary layers. That was the day that you had to fight for your boyfriend’s attention almost anytime you wanted to talk to him. His brown eyes cast down, towards your chest, eyeing the exposed cleavage, and enjoying the subtle bounce and jiggle of your boobs anytime you talked excitedly about anything.

It was on a lazy Sunday evening, on the rare occasion that you weren’t working at the movie theatre, and Steve had a day off working in Family Video. You were laying closely pressed together on his bed. 

More often than not, the free time you spent alone with Steve was in his house. He’d told you many times that it was very rare for his parents to be home for any length of time. Whilst the thought of Steve’s parents being happy enough to leave that boy in that big house all by himself, made your heart ache, you were glad of the privacy it afforded you. It was so much better than the alternative. That time where Steve had been hanging out with you in your bedroom, and your Stevie couldn’t keep his hands to himself. The sudden knock and opening of the door by your mother startled you both enough to quickly pull away from your impromptu makeout session. It wasn’t that your mother didn’t like or approve of your relationship with Steve, oh no it was quite the opposite actually, she adored how kindly he seemed to treat her daughter. However, she wasn’t quite ready to see her daughter and her boyfriend in such a compromising position. Between seeing your slightly out-of-breath state, and Steve’s ruffled hair and glazed over expression, it didn’t take a genius to piece together what had just been happening. After that awkward encounter, it just seemed better that you spent your time at Steve's place.

You were laying on your back, whilst Steve laid down over you, his arm wrapped protectively over your waist, his head resting gently on top of your chest whilst your fingers ran softly through his mess of shaggy hair. 

“...Mmm your boobs are soft..” he mumbles against your chest “..and so pretty too..” 

That’s when you suddenly feel the tugging of Steve’s hands at the hem of your oversized t-shirt (technically it was his shirt, but after he told you how much he enjoyed seeing you in his shirts, you took it upon yourself to wear his stuff more often.) His eager fingertips try to work the shirt off your body to have access to your naked tits, knowing you didn’t ever wear a bra if you were home.

Taking the hint, you sat up to arch your arms up and take off your t-shirt, flinging it off to the corner of Steve’s room. 

Steve seized this moment to begin to leave kisses over your tits. His pink lips, pecking all over the soft exposed skin. His kisses begin to inch closer to your nipple, before he wraps his lips around it, bringing it into the warm wet heat of his mouth, sucking it gently before releasing it from his mouth with a pop. Then his lips lead a trail of sweet kisses from one breast to the other, making sure to give equal attention to the other nipple.

All the while you let him indulge in his love affair with your tits, your fingertips scratch and tug at the soft brown strands of hair at his scalp.

That's when the idea struck him. Remembering something he saw in one of the x-rated tapes from the adult section at the back of Family Video that he'd taken home with him after a particularly long shift. Footage of a man sliding his dick through the softness of some girls' boobs. That evening Steve came harder than he ever had before. His cum dripped over the knuckles of his closed fist, and the only thoughts on his mind was of how he wanted to try that with you.

“Hey…Uh.. Honey?” Steve spoke up, tilting his head up to look at you.

“Yes, my love?” 

“There’s something I wanna try with you, would you be down for trying something new?” he started, the idea of how to go about asking you formulating in his mind.

“Well what is it, Stevie?” you teased gently.

“I wanna fuck your tits” he blurted out, thinking it  would better if he just came out with it, rather than skirt around the subject.

“Okay, I’m down, how do you want me?”

“H-how do I want you?” the fact you were even entertaining this idea had his head spinning and all the blood rushing straight to his dick.

“Yeah like, would you rather I sit up and you like..thrust between them? Or I can lay on my back and you can straddle my chest and then I can push my boobs together.” You explained brazenly. 

“Can I straddle your chest please?” he asked sheepishly.

“Sure!” you said as you got yourself comfortable, laying back on Steve’s bed.

Steve pulled off his sweatpants, his semi-hard dick bobbing slightly. 

Steve spat into his palm, and dropped his hand down to give his cock a few firm strokes, pumping his fist over the length of himself till he was fully hard.

He reached over to his bedside drawer where he kept a small bottle of lube, exactly where he’d left it from back when he’d watched that damn video.

He uncapped the bottle with a click, warning you how it would probably be cold on your skin, before he squeezed a generous amount between the valley of your breasts. He didn’t miss the way your body shivered as the cold gel hit your skin.  

 He also squeezed out some into his hand, thrusting into his hand a few times to cover his dick too.

Hovering over you with his cock in his hand, he leans forward, placing his cock between the valley of your breasts. He takes each one of your breasts in his large hands and gently squeezes them together. You notice his hesitancy and so you place your hands over his and to reassure him that you’re more than willing to do this, and to push your boobs together tighter around his steadily leaking cock.

Then he starts thrusting his hips forward. It’s different to what he was expecting, not a bad different certainly, the softness of your skin, slick with lube, feels so nice. His thumbs find themselves rubbing over your nipples, teasing them into hardened peaks. 

“F-fuck…” Steve stutters out with a moan, his head swimming with lust as he watched his cock slide between your breasts. 

“I wanna taste you, Stevie” you say as you stick out your tongue, just enough so it catches on the tip of his cock as it pops through the top of your cleavage. Your tongue lapping the beading drop of pre-cum gathering at his sensitive tip.

“God..Honey.. Fuck..that’s feels so good..your’re so good for me” Steve groans out above you, his hips continuing to thrust between your breasts. “Love your tits…they’re so soft..you look so gorgeous like this, honey”

His thrusts start to become sloppier and as he chases his high.

“Babe.. I’m so close… ” his breath coming out in ragged pants.  

“Cum on my tits, Stevie…please..” you whine for him, squishing your boobs tighter around him and using them to help jerk him off.

With a few more thrusts, and the soft weight of your boobs working against his sensitive cock, Steve comes with a deep guttural moan, painting your collarbones with his spend. 

Steve carefully swings his body to come and lie next to you, his own chest heaving with gasps, and his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his cock softening against his stomach.

You take this opportunity to swipe your finger through the cum Steve spilled on your chest Popping your finger in your mouth, you moan at the taste, sucking your finger clean.

Steve who had been trying to catch his breath, watched you with lust-glazed eyes

“Honey, you can’t just do that..s’not fair, you’ll get me going again” he chuckles dryly.

“What? Too tired, Harrington?” you tease playfully.

“Never. For you I’ve got all the time in the world” he smirks as he makes his way down your body, settling in between your thighs.

“Now... Let me return the favour” He says with a cheeky wink, his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Oh. You were in for it now.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: Praise Kink w/ MILF!Wanda Maximoff

a/n: okay y'all listen, this is kind of a dark fic but not really? still, i would read with a little bit of caution if you're sensitive to cheating. GUYS. you CANNOT blame me for the choices i made in this fic!!! this is pure fiction and i don't condone this AT ALL.

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

The air was tense as Wanda bid her husband farewell, a loving smile on her face as she kissed his cheek and sent him on his way. But you knew better, even from where you stood in the kitchen, washing the dishes in the sink.

You were the boys' babysitter, though they weren't home seeing as though you just took them to their sports practices. Vision didn't find it strange that even though the kids weren't at home that you and Wanda hungout with each other. In fact, he rather found it a good thing seeing as though he worked a lot and his wife got the extra help.

And a good thing it was indeed.

After he finally left, the house was quiet, the only thing you could hear was the delicate noise of Wanda's flat covered feet padding over to stand behind you. Her energy was dark and intense, like a predator stalking it's prey. Her hands rested on your hips as she kissed up the side of your neck, pressing her lips against your pulse point.

Your head fell to the side, a pleasurable sigh slipping from between your lips. Your scrubbing paused, indulging in the redhead's affections.

"I missed you, darling." She whispered into the shell of your ear. Her dainty hands trailed up the front of your plush body, undoing the button of your jeans to slip it inside the band of your panties. A gasp tumbled from your lips when the pads of her fingers met your damp slit.

"Ah— I-I missed you too." You breathed out.

Her fingers descended towards your clit where she drew tight circles around it. Your hips lurched forwards and her kisses on your naked skin grew harsher, playfully nibbling on your earlobe.

"Gah! Fuck!" You cried. Your hands now rested on the edge of the counter where the sink was built into, your digits digging into the marble and metal basin.

The first finger of a very long night ahead of you penetrated your entrance. It felt like their air had been stolen out of your lungs as she massaged the sensitive padding of your g-spot.

Her praise only came when you clenched around her, sucking her in further until she had no choice but to enter a second.

"Good girl." She purred. "You're taking my fingers so well." You mewled when she put her thumb on your clit, but now she drew intelligible shapes and swirls on it. With every press of her pad drew you closer to your orgasm.

"I can already imagine how fucking dirty you look right now." She swore. You could hear the smirk on her pretty red lips, which was now probably smeared all over your neck. "Letting me fuck you open in my kitchen, mhm." She tsked.

"Wanda…" You whined in embarrassment, even though it came out more like a huff. "It's okay, baby." She teased. You squeezed your eyes shut, the familiar coil of pleasure threatening to snap in your gut.

"Cum for me, my sweet girl. I want to you feel cream all over my fingers."

With one last cry, and a few helpless grinds against her hand, you came. It was like there was an extra layer of pleasure that washed over you, and because your eyes were closed, you couldn't see the fact that Wanda was using her abilities to enhance your orgasm.

"Wanda, Wanda, Wanda…" You babbled, your legs quivering and clit throbbing in overstimulation.

She removed her fingers only to rub up and down your slit, smearing your cum and arousal all over your mound.

As you came down from your high, you felt her puffs of air hitting your ear.

"Don't get too tired, honey. We still have that new toy to try."

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[chxrrysangel]

What Best Friends Do

Pairing | perv!eddie x best friend!reader

Warnings | MDNI 18+, porn with plot, Eddie is a such a perv(only for reader tho, he has some morals), he stares A LOT, meddling friends, guided masturbation (f), cumming together, dry humping, eddie cums in his pants, Eddie basically has an innocence kink

Words | 1,895

Summary | Forced to be gentlemanly with pussy on his mind, Eddie spends the night with his best friend for “the sake of safety”. A best friend with the shortest skirt and cutest pout he’s ever seen. Can he keep it together?

Technically Part Two

Eddie didn’t think this through. At all. 

When Steve suggested taking everyone home in one trip, a resounding yes erupted from the group. The only problem was that there weren’t enough seats. Neither of you thought it was a massive deal at the time, it was only a 30-minute car ride. That was roughly 5 Metallica songs, 3 random brought-up topics between the 6 of you, and maybe 10 stoplights throughout Hawkins. 

Everyone piled into the car as Robin called shotgun, while Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie took the backseat. Hand in yours, your best friend helped you onto his lap for a less-than-comfortable ride home. But you would survive, it was just Eddie after all. The second your ass met his front, he regretted the entire thing. Every single pothole or speed bump pressed your body closer to his, and it was hell. 

Eddie prayed to every god he could think of, hoping that Ozzy and Kirk could hear his pleas somehow. He tried to think of anything to stop his dick from pressing farther into your ass, but not even the image of his nana naked could make the smell of your perfume turn him on less. You could feel him, he was sure of it. And you were too innocent to not realize that every time you rubbed up against him made it worse. A particular “break test”, as Steve liked to call them, had Eddie’s arm wrapping around your waist, pushing your bodies so close together he had to bite his tongue to swallow his moans. If he was any more pathetic, he might’ve cum in his jeans. 

So he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the heartbeat of your pussy against his crotch. Someone must’ve answered his prayers, because the next thing he knew Steve was triple honking to signal a house stop. Luckily enough, it was yours. Eddie braced your body as the car door opened, stopping you from falling. You thanked him, no matter how many times he said it was no trouble. Before anyone could say their goodbyes, Steve perked up to share an idea. 

“Are your parents home?”

You told him no, and that they wouldn’t be back until much later in the night. 

“Munson, haul ass and stay with 'em.”

The two boys made eye contact in Steve’s dashboard mirror, a silent war that you couldn’t decipher. Eddie turned towards the others to beg for help, all feigning innocence and ignoring his silent plea. Right now he was rock hard, and Steve was ruining his chance to go home and jerk off until he got friction burn. But then he turned to see your patient gaze as you waited for their decision, and just melted. 

Fuck. 

Sighing, Eddie climbed out of the car in defeat. He waited until you began walking to your front door to scold the rest of the car. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he angry-whispered. 

“I don't know what you’re talking about Munson. Have fun though.” With that, Steve winked at the metalhead and drove off into the night. 

 He’s gonna regret this and he knows it. 

“Eddie, you comin’ ?” 

“Um, yeah. Sorry.” 

~~~

Eddie’s eyes began to unfocus, his head pounding as he took in the sight before him. There was something so… enticing about how little you understood the effect you had on him; on people in general. You didn’t think it was a huge deal, walking around your room in just a robe. But to Eddie, it was a massive deal. The thoughts he had earlier were coming back in full force and he had no way to escape them. There was only a single layer of material separating your naked body from the outside world and it drove him insane. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how short it was, making it so that just the right bend of your knees would him the perfect view of your pussy. 

Eddie didn’t really believe in God, but now he was reconsidering it. He knew it was bad to think of you like this, especially someone like you, but he couldn’t help it. If anything, your lack of experience or knowledge made him hornier. The pillow covering his crotch didn’t help much either, the dense material providing friction with every movement of his hips. 

“Eddie?” Your voice pulled him back to attention, focusing on you but not staring. Or at least trying not to stare. 

“Yes baby?” You blushed at the nickname, never truly getting over his terms of endearment for you. 

“I have a question.” He can tell by your tone that you’re nervous, and god it’s so cute. You bite on your lips as you think of what to say next, and all he can think about is that pretty little mouth sucking on his tip. 

“Shoot.” You took a deep breath, trying to find the courage somewhere to say what you need to. 

“Earlier in the car, I uh– I felt something.” Eddie fought off the urge to grin, the possibilities of what you said next giving him a depraved kind of rush. 

“What did you feel sweetheart?” He pressed the pillow further into himself, grinding his hips ever so slightly for relief. 

“Something hard. And…it felt good. I um…liked you pressed up against me. I felt tingly.” Eddie sat up straighter at your confession.

He could cum right now off your words alone. 

“Yeah?” You nodded in response, averting your eyes as your cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

“Do you wanna feel that again?” Eddie wanted to tear the pathetic robe off and fuck you over the nearest surface, but he knew he had to be patient and gentle. 

“Yes.” 

“Come here, baby. Come to Eddie.”

The bed dipped as you climbed over to him, your robe loosening just a little bit which he took notice of. Eddie removed the pillow, giving you a full view of the rock-hard erection he’d been hiding. A gasp fell from your lips, a hesitant hand reaching out before you thought better of it.

“You can touch if you want. I don’t mind.” You debated over it for a few seconds before reaching for his crotch. Your fingers brushed lightly against the tip, the friction making Eddie hiss in pleasure. 

“Oh my god, Eddie I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, don’t apologize. Didn’t hurt at all. It was the exact opposite. ” His voice was so gentle, like nothing you’ve ever heard from him before. It encouraged you to put your hand back where it was, rubbing softly to see how he reacted. You had no idea what you were doing, which made Eddie even more eager to ruin you. In his peripheral vision, he caught his eye on your closet mirror, inciting a genius idea. 

“Okay baby, I’m gonna make you feel good now. Can you do something for me?” You would do anything for him; so of course, you said yes. 

Eddie grabbed your hand, guiding you to sit in front of him with your back to his chest. His warm calloused hands bore a feather light touch as they grazed along your thighs. Slowly they inched higher, stopping just before where you needed it and pushing your thighs wide apart. Your best friend stared at the slickness of your folds, licking his lips in anticipation. Everything he'd ever fantasized about was slowly becoming part of reality.

In the reflection of the mirror, you stared at yourself, not quite sure who was looking back at you. It felt foreign to have anyone, let alone Eddie’s hands on your body in this way. The cross necklace you’ve had your entire life glittered in the light, and you willed the guilt rising up your throat to be swallowed back down. You wanted this. The brush of your best friend’s fingers across your stomach pulled you out of your trance, eyes tracing his movements. 

“Baby, you see this little button at the top here? That’s called your clit. It’s your best friend. And its favorite thing is to get rubbed on.” 

Eddie licked his fingertips in the reflection, bringing them down to between your legs to demonstrate. The wet feeling of his spit on your clit as his calloused hands began to rub circles was so foreign yet welcomed. Your brain began to feel fuzzy as the pleasure took over and your best friend enjoyed watching you come apart for him. Breathy moans and whimpers escaped your lips as you rutted into his hand, chasing something you weren’t even sure what to call.

He cooed at you, whispering sweet nothings in your ears. The ghostly feeling of his lips brushing against your hot skin clouded your mind, making it almost impossible to enjoy his praises. It was almost too much and yet you craved more. But then he stopped. 

“Eddie! Why’d you do that?” Whatever was building up in your lower stomach, aching to be released, slowly began to dissipate along with your excitement.

“Because, I want you to do it yourself.” He paused to kiss your temple, softening the blow of your disappointment. 

“But I can’t—”

“Yes you can, and you will. Give me your hand.” You did as told, watching as Eddie put two of your digits in his mouth and sucked. It was so…sinful. Nothing like anything you’d ever seen; and you couldn’t get enough.  He pulled your spit coated fingers down btwn your legs, right down to the center of your pleasure. 

“Now rub. And don’t stop until I tell you.” You did as you were told, slowly at first to get used to the feeling. 

Soon you fell into a rhythm, high off the feeling and chasing your own pleasure. Your back relaxed into Eddie’s arms, pushing your bodies impossibly closer together. His hips matched the rhythm of yours, which only made you wetter. Your moans were matched by his as you stared at yourselves in the mirror. He was enjoying this just as much as you were. 

“Eddie, oh God. I feel…I feel..”

He grinned at his reflection. 

“I know baby, I know.” He pulled your hips into his, trying to maintain as much friction as he could. At this rate, he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Hurts a little, yeah? Keep going gorgeous, it’s gonna feel so good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” His voice broke on the last few words like he was gonna burst into tears at any moment. Your lower belly tightened with a delicious kind of pain, one you chased eagerly. You rubbed your fingers at a faster pace, desperate for some kind of release as Eddie grinded against your ass. He whispered the dirtiest things in your ear, saying how good you feel and how close he is. And then, the tightness stopped as a wave of pleasure coursed through your entire body, enough to make your toes curl and ears ringing. Eddie’s name fell off the tip of your lips as you came, the final straw as wetness spread through his boxers and hips slowed to a halt. You stared in his eyes as you caught your breath, trying to find the words to describe what just happened.

You were putty in his hands, he knew that now. A post-orgasm smile spread across his lips, shamelessly staring at your fucked-out state. He had plans for you.

[blackreaderfics]

🎃Wildcard | Jason Todd x Reader🎃

↳ Pairing : TitansDCverse!Jason Todd x Virgin!Reader

↳ Rating : E (18+ minors dni‼️)

↳ Summary : A round of Cards Against Humanity gets a little wild during “Game Night” at Titans Tower

↳ W.C : ~3.4k

↳ A/N : welcome to spooky season. this is my first ever fic for kinktober🧡👻 idk if this is controversial buuut I love that actor’s portrayal of Jason🫣

↳ Tags + Warnings: dubcon elements, oral (male receiving), face-fucking, orgy, stripping, degradation (“slut”), coercion, alcohol consumption (beer), teabagging, bullyish!jason x shyish!reader, reader wears glasses, reader is a virgin, jason is kinda a dickhead lol, side characters (rachel, rose, gar, and conner) are there, for sake of convenience they’re all 21+

Part 2

“Oh come on,” Jason groaned exasperatedly as you set your glasses on the coffee table. “Glasses don’t fucking count!”

After a successful mission and saving the world for the hundredth time, the Titans decided to unwind in the best way they knew how: a night in with board games and beer.

As usual, Jason had tried to make the games a little bit more exciting by adding a “fun twist”. Jenga became a drinking game; drink if you make the tower fall. Uno had become “draw or dare”, you could choose to draw four cards or get off scot-free by doing a dare. 

The “grownups” of the team—Dick, Kory, Hank, and Dawn— had excused themselves to do “grownup things” leaving you and the remaining group of young adults in the living room. Currently, you were now in the middle of another particularly heated game of Cards Against Humanity, the interesting twist being the person with the best card could choose for someone to strip an article of clothing.

Jason had been targeting you the whole night; teasing you for the baggy clothes you always wore. Purposely, just to annoy him, you’d only taken off your accessories and your zip-up hoodie.

Admittedly the clothes you wore didn’t really fit you right. You’d opted to wear oversized sweaters over fitted shirts, and unflattering pants over a more hip-hugging and slimming fit. Before you became a Titan, you were shyer than you were now. It had only been recently when you started to come out of your shell and get closer to your teammates. 

“Be for real. Glasses do so count!” You retorted. You had all but discarded your outer layers and were now left in pants and a tank top. You could take up a few turns with your socks and shoes if you needed to.

“Why do you guys wear so many layers?” Gar piped up. All he had on were his boxers and a single sock. Conner, who was sitting next to him, was equally fucked, only, with no socks as a buffer.

“Because we play idiotic games like this,” Rachel remarked dryly while drawing an extra card from the pile.

You and Rachel were the only ones currently safe from any unnecessary exposure. Rachel did wear a lot of layers, and despite having lost multiple rounds, still looked very much clothed. Rose sat far off on the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal looking on with about as much judgment as a girl with one working eye could. 

“You know, offer still stands. You can still join us, Rose,” Jason addressed the grey-haired, eye-patch-wearing girl without looking up from the cards in his hands.

“Hard pass. I’d rather watch you losers get destroyed.” She then unceremoniously returned to munching on her cornflakes.

Your gaze settled on Jason who’d shed his leather jacket and still remained in a plain black tee and jeans. He was unfairly attractive in the most basic of clothes. And though you hated his playground jibes and dirty humor, you couldn’t help but develop a little bit of a crush on the messy-haired boy. When his eyes caught yours, you could see the wheels in his brain practically turning as his smirk grew wider.

“How about…” He started slowly, “Boys versus girls. If you guys win, then we’ll get naked. If we win, you guys get naked.”

Of course he would suggest that, you thought to yourself glumly. The thought of showing your naked body to your crush didn’t excite you, it only made you more nervous.

“You’re just saying that ‘cuz you’re losing,” you said, masking your anxiety with a chug of your beer, “Conner’s literally only got his underwear left.” 

Conner, hearing his name, suddenly perked up. “For the record, I have x-ray vision. I can already see everything anywa—” Gar nudged him in the ribs to keep him from talking.

Jason shook his head. “It’s no fun if we already know who’s gonna win. Let’s vote on it then. Who here agrees to a wildcard match?” He raised his hand, and predictably the two other boys followed suit. “And who wants to play the way we’ve been playing; the boring virgin Y/N way?” He taunted cheekily.

You felt your cheeks warm again. He was never letting you live down the fact that you had confessed you were still a virgin during a past game of “Never Have I Ever”. You raised your hand and looked around for support. “Rachel,” you hissed desperately when you found she had not raised her hand. 

“Seriously? They suck at this game. It’s not like they’re gonna suddenly win out of nowhere," Rachel whispered back.

“In that case, I’ll play too,” Rose hopped off the counter and plopped on the couch next to you. 

“So nice of you to finally join us,” Jason crooned. “I’ll let you do the honors.” He passed her the deck he’d been shuffling for her to deal and sat back. 

After Rose had dealt all the cards, you looked at your hand. The deck you were playing with was a custom-made deck that Dick had ordered to round out the Tower’s impressive board game collection.

As a collective, you all pooled in ideas resulting in a deck of cards ranging from the peculiar to the mundane; from “taking shots off Nightwing’s ass”; to “Batman’s Worst Nightmare”; to names of each of your superhero aliases including all of the Justice League. For some reason, however, all the cards in your current hand were names.

“Make me laugh,” Rose ordered primly as she set down her card and folded her arms in expectation. It read: 

“If I could fuck anyone right now, I would fuck ______”

“Damn,” Rachel sounded impressed, “that’s certainly one way to start a round.”

Gar immediately threw his card down, followed by Rachel, then Jason. Only Conner and you were left.

“Time’s ticking Y/N,” Jason tapped a nonexistent watch on his wrist. Usually you would fire a comeback at him, but this time you could only frown as you chose your safest option and slid it tentatively over to the pile in the middle. 

“Time’s up, Conner,” Rose said as she gathered the cards. He passed it over face down, obviously not very happy about his choice. 

“Okay, we have a ‘Wonder Woman’,  a ‘Poison Ivy’….” She glanced around the room to see if anyone would give themselves away. “A ‘Robin’—wait...” She barked out a laugh. “I can’t not address this. I pick this one. Who fucking put down Robin?”

The room erupted into fits of laughter rivaling a high school classroom as they watched you sigh and bashfully raise your hand. 

“Oh, would you now?” Jason raised a curious eyebrow at you. 

“I-in my defense, there’s more than one Robin,” you sputtered pitifully before he could tease you further. You watched him stand up and begin to raise his shirt, giving you an eyeful of v-line and toned midriff. “W-what are you doing! I didn’t pick you!” 

Despite being only in a tank top, you felt yourself getting hot. Gar and Conner had equally toned bodies, but they weren’t affecting you the way Jason had been. Just to spite you, he kept his eyes on yours as he raised his shirt as suggestively as possible, bringing it up over his head and tossing it in a pile on his leather jacket.

“Just giving the person who wants to ‘fuck me right now’ a little preview.” He said, smile smug like he was doing charity for letting you see his 6-pack. 

Yea, real fucking Mother Theresa.

“Well, too bad I can barely see it.” You waved a hand in front of your face, “No glasses remember?”

“Come sit on my lap, mama, I’ll give you a closer look.” Jason plopped back on the sofa, abs flexing as he reclined with his legs spread wide, inviting you to sit with a pat on his thigh and a wicked smirk to match.

“Ugh, gross,” Rose made a face but appeared to be humored by Jason’s antics. 

“Anyway,” you interrupted desperately trying to change the subject. “Since I won, technically that means the girls won too. Rules are rules.” 

You had barely even finished your sentence when the boys immediately moved to take off their clothes. Your mouth went dry as they sat nonchalantly before you now, cocks resting against their stomachs.

In any other situation, you’d probably find this extremely inappropriate. They were your teammates. Sure, you lived together and had walked in on the occasional member changing or just getting out of the shower, but you were a bit buzzed off of the booze already, and this was different— you couldn’t help but stare.

“So uh…what now?” Gar’s nervous laugh broke the silence and everyone turned towards him; he blushed under the newfound attention.

“New game?” Conner suggested. He appeared to be just as clueless as Gar but with less of the blushing.

Rose looked over at you and Rachel for guidance, but seeing as neither of you knew how to react, the grey-haired girl merely shrugged back at the boys. “I’m down.”

“Ok, new game,” Jason agreed. “If you can make all of us cum in 10 minutes then the girls can get TV remote control privileges for the rest of the year.”

“All of you including Conner?” You asked brow raised, “He’s a super, that’s not fair.”

“What? It’s not like he has ‘super cum control’ too.”

“Actually, yea I—”

“Don’t answer that,” Jason cut in, annoyed. “Ok fine, I’ll give a handicap. If you can make one of us cum in 5 minutes untouched then the TV’s all yours.”

“Do you think we’re stupid, Todd?” Rachel narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Well…” He paused and tapped a finger to his chin to consider Rachel’s rhetorical question, flinching playfully when she raised her fist to jab in his direction. “Ok ok, but 5 minutes is a long time!”

“I meant the untouched part.”

“Your handicap is you can’t touch us, and our handicap is Logan.” He jabbed a thumb to gesture at Gar who looked like he was meditating to calm himself down. “He’ll probably reach the big ‘O’ before he reaches nirvana.”

“Deal, but if it’s gonna be like that then let’s raise the stakes a little.” Rose countered. “Not just remote control privileges. We get control privileges. Over you guys. If we win, you have to do whatever we say for the rest of the year.”

Jason fished his phone out from the pocket of his jacket and set the timer for 5 minutes. “And if we win, the same for us too.” He started the timer and sat back.

You, Rachel, and Rose made a beeline for Gar, who’d still had his eyes squeezed closed in the middle of the sofa.

“Fuckin’ hell, I should’ve known you’d try ‘n cheat,” Jason grumbled and stopped the timer. “No double or triple-teaming. One to one only and I get to choose the pairs.”

“And why should you be the one to choose that?” You turned toward him, trying (and failing) not to look at his dick. It was long and thick, with a slight curve and a pretty pink color at the tip.

“‘Cuz you wanna fuck me so bad,” he simpered, an impish grin playing on his lips.

“Oh god,” You rolled your eyes.

“Let him choose,” Rose challenged unfazed at Jason’s constant goalpost moving. “Whatever strategy he thinks he has isn’t gonna work.”

Jason ignored her and carried on with making the pairs. “Rachel and Conner, Rose and Gar.” He pointed directly at you, “You and me.”

Upon his directions, the three of you moved to stand in front of your now-designated partners. Finally satisfied, Jason set the timer again and pressed start. Almost immediately Rachel and Rose set to work on their mission, stripping their clothes down to their underwear. You tentatively followed suit, shimmying out of your jeans and kicking them aside. Jason eyed you, fully reclined in his seat with his hands comfortably behind his head. 

“Well, this is gonna be easier than I thought,” He yawned, looking as nonchalant as ever. 

“I doubt your porn-addled brain has ever seen a real woman before, Jason.” The taunts you directed at him should’ve sounded more confident, but instead were dulled by your nervous fidgeting at the hem of your shirt. 

This was the first time you’d ever been half-naked in front of a boy. And not just any boy, but a boy you liked. But the way he always seemed to tease you and make sexually insensitive jokes at your expense made you anxious. It wasn’t overt bullying, but the little comments he would sneak here and there were beginning to eat at you. If you showed him any more of your body, would he make fun of you even more?

“Trust me, I’ve seen plenty,” He assured, “But how ‘bout you jog my memory and demonstrate?” His gaze moved down your chest and back up to your eyes, daring you to take it off. 

You fidgeted again under his stare, feeling a sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. It was a mix of anxiety, embarrassment, and something else you could quite place. When you glanced over to the other pairs, Rachel had already taken her top off and Rose was in the middle of a strip tease. 

“Four minutes,” Jason announced, with a bored expression. 

Feeling a sense of urgency, you pulled off your tank top, exposing your lacy bra. When his dick twitched, both your eyes shifted to the hardening situation in his lap. You could see him fighting the urge to touch himself now, and that gave you a burst of confidence. 

Rachel and Rose were now in between Gar and Conner’s legs, not touching them, but teasing them by blowing hot air on their cocks. You followed suit, with only three minutes left you had to do something. After all, forfeiting your will to the whims of three boys with raging hormones didn’t seem like a fun idea, especially since you knew how playfully vindictive they could get. They’d probably try and make you human furniture or whatever other sick and twisted thing they could think of. You shuddered at the thought of the kind of torture they could come up with.

You sank to your knees and sat between Jason’s legs. You watched him involuntarily swallow and sit up straighter, pulling his hands down from his head to steady himself and clutch at the couch cushion beneath him. 

“Three minutes,” Jason glanced at his phone, but he wasn’t as confident as he was before. If anything, he seemed much more distracted by your presence at his feet.

Satisfied with his change in demeanor, you only smiled at him, fluttering your lashes at him as you brought your mouth closer to his balls. You opened your mouth and exhaled softly.

He hastily brought a hand to his cock—beads of precum already spilling from its tip—and made minute motions with the pad of his thumb to calm himself down. His chest raised with shallow breaths as he looked down at you now, eyes heavily lidded with lust and wanting. 

“Fuck it—” He hissed and without warning, reached his other hand around the back of your head, pushing your nose into his balls as he began to jerk off. Your eyes widened, taken by surprise at his sudden actions.

From where you were kneeling you could already see Rachel and Rose giving their partners full-on blowjobs, completely forgetting the game they had agreed to earlier. The sensation in your stomach moved down to your clothed sex, and you could feel a tingling sensation as he rubbed your face obscenely against his balls, moaning with need.

“Open your mouth —oh fuck— please.” His voice sounded strangled as he held you at the base of his cock, masturbating desperately to chase his release.

You obliged his request, opening up and taking his balls into your mouth, looking up at him as you felt his grip on the nape of your neck tighten. He was clearly getting off from the sight of you beneath him, massaging thoroughly with the flat of your tongue. He brought your head back and, with his other hand, held his cock by the base. 

He groaned again when he saw your lips now glossy with spit. “Open f’me again, baby?” he asked despite the fact that the tip of his cock was already being pressed to your lips. Your cheeks warmed as he let out a moaning “fuuuck” when you opened your mouth again to allow him inside. He pushed your head down deeper to take all of him in, and your eyes began to water as the tip of his cock grazed the back of your throat. 

“You don’t know how fucking pretty you look with my cock in your mouth, Y/N,” he murmured, releasing the pressure off your head for you to catch your breath. He let out a short laugh as if your gasping for air was funny to him.

“Had no idea you were such a fucking slut under all those clothes. How’re you a virgin when you’re takin’ my cock this good, hm?” His voice was gentle and soft but borderline condescending as he spoke. 

Jason brushed away a tear from your eye and leaned over to bring you into an open-mouthed and sloppy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. A string of saliva connected at both of your lips when you separated. 

“Gonna fuck that pretty little mouth of yours. Keep it open,” He instructed. Within seconds he was guiding your head back on his cock, bucking up into your mouth and against your throat. You made a garbled sound, which only seemed to make him thrust harder. 

“Oh fu— that’s so fuckin’ good, baby keep doin’ that,” he moaned, though you weren’t doing much except letting your head loll up and down like a brainless doll with the support of his hand at the back of your neck. 

The living room was now filled with the pleasured moans of the three boys and the gagging ‘gluck gluck’ sounds of the three girls as each of them fucked into your mouths, getting off on the lewdly slick sounds of their cocks pistoning in and out in a relentless rhythm. Your mouths became just another hole for them to fuck.

“Shit—” His hips stuttered; he was close. He brought both hands to your head pushing it down so your nose pressed against his base. “You know how to swallow right, baby?” He grunted. 

You couldn’t respond with words readily—your nose was plugged and his cock clogged your windpipe— instead, your throat closed over his tip, as if a Pavlovian response to his question. He groaned and not shortly after, you felt his hot cum shooting down your throat. 

When his softening cock finally left your mouth, you swallowed his sticky release as best as you could with your punished throat. He swiped some of the cum the had dribbled down your lips with his thumb and pushed it past your lips, making you suck it. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he said breathlessly as he watched you suck his thumb, mesmerized by the way your eyes locked on him. A loud moan from Gar interrupted, making both you and Jason tear your eyes off each other. The green-haired boy was currently stroking his cum onto Rose’s waiting tongue. About a minute later, Conner came too. 

It was only then that you realized that Jason had come the fastest; faster than the “handicap” he’d claimed Gar to be.

“So…I’m guessing that means we won?” Rachel had already started pulling her clothes back on. Since she started dressing, everyone else mundanely followed suit. 

Jason tugged his jeans back on, “Sure. Fine. Whatever, we’re all yours for the next three months,” he sounded less than enthused but still took the time to find your discarded tank top and jeans and toss them over to you as well.

Rose threw her shirt back on and adjusted her eyepatch. “Girls, what are we thinking? Anything we want our new servants to do for us?”

“Hmm…” You tapped your chin in mock thought, giving Jason a sly look that could give one of his own cheeky smirks a run for its money. “Oh, I‘ve got a few ideas.”

©️ blackreaderfics // dividers by cafekitsune & poison-aesthetics

[meeinthesea]

FRAGMENTED HARMONY — sunday

outline— sunday has always hated you. your existence was an eyesore for him — a constant reminder of everything that he believed was different —wrong. yet he can't shake you from his mind. it was only a matter of fact before you would hit the same fate as the charmony dove that once landed in his garden ages ago. so he does what he has to.

contains— yandere (?) sunday x reader, kinda ooc sunday, childhood friends, sunday is going through a lot, somewhat follows canon. heavy themes, mentions of blood and death.

wc— 2.1k

a/n— this prompt was suggested by my friend, and i had so much fun jotting down ideas for this! i hope y'all like it too, as much as i loved writing it. banner made by me, yay! i like this so so much he's so divine, oof..... so pretty. i'd worship him if i could.

it's been hours since sunday came back from the confession booth. usually, this part of his day is nothing of importance to him, the sinful confessions mixing and twisting in his mind before disappearing altogether.

this is normal to him. so he doesn't know why he feels so much on edge.

why does that particular question stick with him?

“how do i cherish what i love without losing myself?”

maybe it was because he was too stunned to say anything that the person on the other side of the booth had to be escorted back without any answer. but how could he give guidance on something he didn't have the answer to?

he blinks rapidly as the familiar walls of his room become clearer. he walks to the mirror and stands idly. naked without a layer to hide anything. his amber eyes trace each and every feature reflected on the polished surface.

sunday shakes his head, arms clenching on the sides of the frame. he won't allow himself to stray any further from the destiny — his truth. not when he is this close to achieving the paradise he's always dreamed of.

he is still here. all in one piece.

it's still him, right?

he hasn't lost himself, right?

the longer he stares into the mirror, the faster his mind spirals as it makes way for something he has never anticipated. the image transforms into something — someone that makes his heart clench.

you stand there, eyes twinkling with mirth, arms crossed behind your back as you whisper what he thinks is his name. so softly that he barely hears it.

but it vanishes all too soon.

the happy image is replaced by something so grotesque that he feels bile climbing up his throat. all he can see is pure — bright red as blood trickles down the sides of the mirror, and your once unscathed body now lies in a pile of your own blood. your eyes are pale, devoid of anything as they stare back at him. lifeless — soulless.

and then his eyes snap open.

the haunting imagery from before is gone.

all that remains is his sweaty, heaving body and bloodshot eyes staring back at him.

he staggers towards the window, a much-needed break for his palpitating heart. his weary eyes take in the tranquil scenery of the sleeping city.

maybe he's already lost himself.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

the next time sunday sees you waltzing towards him, he feels the familiar annoyance bubbling up in his chest. you look so free, happily chirping as you come closer to him, the ever carefree air drifts from you.

“what is it now?” he huffs and closes his arms around his chest. turning away from you.

“aww c'mon i haven't even said anything,” you twirl around him, your hair hitting his eyes before you come face to face with him, “how have you been?”

for a moment, all he does is stare at your blissful expression, and for a moment, he feels himself slipping back into the past — something warm and airy, bright spots dancing in his mind. it's vague, the lines are incomplete, and it is impossible to interpret anything.

something that he abandoned a long time ago.

“fine…” he grunts a reply and pays no attention to how unusually warm his cheeks are beginning to feel.

“just fine?” he hears you hum and brush past him — the brief contact has his mind reeling for a split-second — to analyze the soda bottles stacked on a glass rack, “and here i thought you would be excited about the charmony festival.”

“i do not have time for your musings,” he declares, and prepares to leave.

he hears you yelling at him but continues walking before a hand grips onto his gloved one, and he is pulled towards you. back to you.

“would you come with me to watch robin practice?”

every cell in his brain is screaming at him to decline your offer. he has no time for whatever shenanigans you were inviting him in.

though, how can he?

not when your eyes look so sincere, when your hand feels so light against him. a sweet taste pools in his mouth, and he has no choice but to sigh as he watches you jump up and down, laughing in delight.

he joins in with small chuckles, hidden behind his palm.

in his eyes, you were the very embodiment of the harmony that even the xipe falls short in front of you.

and that's why your ultimate fate lies in his hands.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

red. red. red.

it's all he sees as he staggers through the hallway. it's eerily silent in the dewlight pavilion, save for his heavy pants.

the meeting from before replays like a broken record in his mind.

robin.

robin is all sunday can think of.

no matter the number of investigations he has going on, he just can't get to the truth of it. how can she just vanish into thin air?

he remembers visiting the reverie hotel. comatose is how she was. he feels himself gag, as the picture of her pale body floating in the dream pool appears once again.

a spiritual death.

that's what sunday has concluded.

there's no traces left of her soul in the dreamscape.

it was as if she just vanished from the face of penacony, leaving behind a hollow shell of a body.

how could he ever let that happen to her?

it's a mess. the hallways, the statues, everything seem to blend in with one another, the faintest of red bleeding in through the corners. however, uplifting the bright colours may be, they do nothing to soothe the banging ache in his chest.

she's gone. robin's gone.

and soon you will be too.

sunday falls to the ground, rough carpet grazing against his skin. he holds his face in his hands.

he feels the need to shout, scream, anything, yet no sound comes out of him.

what was he supposed to do now?

through the mirage of madness, a solace whispers to him. the bells ring of his arrival. a striking white dove fly in front of him. silk brushes against his face as sunday looks towards the sound.

with each pounding of his heart, purple seeps into its white feathers. it was his master.

“my child,” the crow advances towards him, and sunday can make out the tremor behind gopher's voice, “the time has come.”

its presence is a warning about what is coming, a reminder that he’s running out of time.

he clenches his hands, lips trembling. he has no choice but to nod his head.

the crow is gone. robin is gone.

the sweet dream is falling apart. right before his very eyes.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

sunday dashes through the halls of the dewlight pavilion. the bright lights overhead are like thousands of needles piercing through his already pounding head. the shadows seem to chase him with every step he took.

“where is—” he coughs a little, all shaken up.

his head hits the front desk, wood splintering with the force. the organized items fall due to shock, cluttering around his feet.

“sire,” one of the assistants rushes towards him, “are you okay?” he holds onto him, pulling him towards a chair.

the receptionist looks at him confused, “who is where, sir?”

he takes a few heavy breaths before muttering your name. the assistant immediately focuses on the device and, without any questions, tells him your location.

everyone in the vicinity stares at his departing figure, curious as to what has caused such a sudden change on the oak's family head.

the trip to the winery is a short one. sunday is pleased to find the most of it empty at this time, since it will be easier for him.

the sweet and tangy smell lingers in the air, almost palatable. several clusters of gold dances around him as he makes his way deeper into the winery.

he follows the stony path and immediately spots your silhouette sitting on one of the silver railings. you look awfully calm, despite your best friend being missing and possibly considered dead.

he knows you've already sensed him as you jump a little but continue to look at the purple tinted sky.

“it was you, wasn't it?” sunday starts, but he doesn't know what else he can say to intimidate you.

“wha—” your voice is timid as you jump from the railing and stand directly in front of him, “where is this coming from?” you cross your arms around you, sinking into your coat.

“how much longer are you willing to go?” his own comes out rather sternly than he wanted, but he’s not complaining when he sees a sudden shift in your demeanour.

“what are you talking about?” you are trembling now, eyes getting all watery.

“enough!” you gulp, and he sees your hands shaking uncontrollably.

“sunday what are you—”

before you can say anything, sunday puts up his hand, and his eyes narrow down onto your face.

you feel yourself frozen in place — time as if someone has put a spell on you, thrones encasing you, trapping you forever.

slowly and surely, you feel the presence of what you assume is the harmony or rather the order — the absolute. it's all rainbows and the flashing lights in the beginning.

but the vivid imagery loses all colour. lines, and shapes form in your vision, a distinct eye stares back at you, “i had no choice. you left me with no choice.”

even before you can open your mouth, a ringing noise pierces your ear, and you black out, losing awareness of everyone and everything.

your body falls to the ground with a loud thump. unmovable — unresponsive. just like the world. there's nothing around the two of you. the fireflies have departed, and the pleasant aroma has become astringent.

and with that he’s breached the harmony.

he couldn’t bear killing you? how can he?

this was the only choice.

sunday kneels beside you and takes your limp body in his hold. “i did this for us.”

through the harmony, he will obtain the order.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

what follows after is a blur to sunday.

but he’s certain of one thing, and that the dream will soon take shape into reality.

sunday has no problem accessing your hotel room. all he needed was to flash a charming smile at the receptionist. the request doesn't take long, and soon, he is thanking the person with a key card dangling in his hand.

your door is locked, just like he expected. but it's not a concern to him. he presses the key card against the sensor, and immediately, the door beeps on cue. as soon as he slides in, he's greeted with your comatose body floating in the dream pool.

he locks the door behind him and takes out a pocket knife, striding towards the pool.

“you don’t need to be afraid,”

he cradles your face in his hand and traces the blade against your jaw, “i'll make this quick, okay, darling?”

the blade presses into your cheeks, drawing a blob of blood. pure red catches his eyes. it's familiar. he observes how the drop trails down your face and catches it, wet tongue sweeping over your skin.

“you are weak, always have been.”

sunday can't contain himself as the metallic and pungent taste coats his tongue.

“but you shall be free now.”

one slice is all he needs.

blood starts sputtering from your chest, turning the once clear teal water into a mess of red and brown. he jumps out of the pool, leaving your body to collapse once again. he wipes the blade with his handkerchief while watching your form disappear under the bloody water.

through harmony, order is obtained.

sunday nonchalantly walks out of your room and trudges down the staircase, back to the receptionist. he calmly reports your death, or rather your murder.

no one suspects a thing.

no one has the right to do so anyway.

no one looks for you.

no one questions for you.

you had no family — anyone besides the two siblings.

and in sunday's favour, the news of your death is quickly buried as a chess piece of the “death” game that has caused chaos upon penacony.

but you don’t have to worry.

“relax it’s me,” you can hear his voice — a familiar softness, just like how it was in days gone by — but he’s nowhere to be seen.

someone caresses your cheek, and you open your eyes, but it's all black.

where are you?

“i am right here, my love.” you feel a soft kiss against your mouth.

it feels so good. this feeling, everything is at present. there is no past, no future.

no hatred, no regret.

only love exists. compassion flows in every nook and canny.

the gentle waves lull you towards him.

he's all you can feel, hear.

“you are safe here,” his breath is faint, a soft murmur, “rest now.”

[babydipper]

“Is this okay?” Dick mumbles against her skin in between the kisses, earning a small sigh from her lips.

“Yes,” she says when she's sure her voice will allow it, fingertips tracing patterns on Dick's scalp. “It's so lovely you ask me. You are so lovely.”

Dick's breath hitches and he shivers above her, buries his face in her neck. For the first time, Jazz sees the appeal in any of this, feels the drive for having skin on her skin without any other layer. Her hands move around the muscles gently. He's on her but under her in every other way that matters and so he lets her roam and take and explore, welcoming soft palms on his scarred skin, the featherlight touches.

“You are beautiful,” she tells him as if it's a secret shared just between the two of them. Dick shivers again, nuzzling closer into her neck, breathing her in. Stopping her in her tracks. “Do you want to go any further?”

“I can,” comes a weak answer.

“But do you want to?” she asks, petting his hair with one hand and embracing him with the other. The silence that comes falls upon them like a blanket. It's enough for her to have him like that, have him this close and not any closer. Dick is enough in any way he comes, it turns out. They just fit as if they were made to hold each other. “It's okay if you don't,” she reassures quietly.

“I just,” he whispers, “I had sex with other people before and no one has ever… They were good to me, but no one has… I was always the one to lead.”

“Okay,” she kisses his hair. “What do you want, lovely?”

“To just be,” he admits, embarrassed, hidden. “Can we just stay like this for a moment?”

“Whatever you want,” she promises because right now, with his thigh between her legs, his head in the crook of her neck, she doesn't want much else. “We have all the time in the world.”

Jazz reaches over to drape a blanket over them and when the plush material covers their naked bodies, Dick sighs, content. She smiles, a small, fond laugh escaping her lips, for which he bites her. Then, she takes her phone and changes the background tune to Mitski, the shitty Bluetooth speaker still alive and kicking.

“That's so pretentious,” Dick mumbles but there's no mean streak to it.

Jazz pulls on his hair in retribution, still smiling. “What's your Mitski song?”

“First Love/Late Spring.”

“Yeah,” she breathes out, “I think mine too.”

[yngtort]

—skintight ❄️

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock

Kinkmas day 3

xfem!reader mdni. 1.6kw. In which Chris really likes that dress you’re wearing

Baby, what’s taking so long?

“We’re gonna be late.” Chris said he knocked on the bedroom door.

He waited impatiently for you to come out, not knowing what was taking you so long. He just wanted to make it to his parents dinner party on time.

Like he gets that you want to impress his family, but it’s not really that big of a deal. His mom and dad already loved you for who you are, and he felt like you didn’t have to go all out every-time you see them.

“Y/n, come on.” he said, finally opening up the door.

his plan was to come in and drag you out the house, half naked if he had too. But when his eyes landed on you, wearing the cuntiest mrs.claus dress he’d ever seen, he changed his mind.

He was losing it, looking at how the dress hugged everything just right, showcasing every curve that he’s touched and kissed.

And those fucking fishnets.

The way your thighs strained against the diamond pattern made his mouth water. it took everything in him not press your face into the mattress and fuck you until bed gives in.

“What do you think?” the question was almost taunting as Chris watches you do a little twirl.

“I think I want to stay home.” He moves closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I don’t want anyone seeing you looking this good.”

You chuckle softly, “sorry, love. But we can’t ditch your parents.”

Chris groans, dramatically throwing his head back like a child. As much as he knew his parents wouldn’t actually care if you didn’t show up, he also knew that you were really excited to see them.

“Fine, fine.” He pouted and you can’t help but place a kiss on his soft lips.

“One more-“ “Chris.”

-

From the moment you stepped in the house, chris just couldn’t keep his hands off of you. with every step, he was trailing behind you, keeping his hand latched to your side.

you tried to brush him off as you talked with his mom, helping her set up the dinner table. And you’re more than happy when mrs.bang declines his offers to come along as well.

“What’s gotten into that boy? It’s like you casted a spell.” mrs.bang jokes as she sets the last plate down.

“It must be all the eggnog.” You reply and the older woman laughs.

“Whatever it is, I hope it gets me some grandkids.”

This was the reason why you adored his parents so much. They’re so lovable and easy to get along with, much like their son.

“What are you two over here gossiping about? The foods gonna get cold!” Mr.bang says with a hearty chuckle, taking his designated spot at the dinner table.

You watched as the rest of the family followed suit, sitting down at the table. you do the same, taking the empty seat beside chris.

“Hey you.” He says with a cheeky grin, hand automatically landing on your thigh.

“Hey.” you reply

Throughout the course of the dinner, his fingers just kept playing with your fishnets. Slipping his them through the holes, feeling the thin layer of stockings that your wore to keep you from getting cold.

His mind went rampant, thinking about ripping them right off you and using them to tie your hands together.

“Right, babe?” Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts in an instant.

“Huh? I’m sorry, what were you saying?” He said blinking at you like a dear in head lights.

A sigh leaves everyone’s lips at the table.

“your mom suggested that we stay here for the night, since it’s so late.” You explained.

“And you agreed?”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Because he wants to go home and hear you scream his name, that’s why.

Chris press his lips into a line, not saying a word. you had already taken up his parents offer and he really didn’t want to make a scene by begging you to leave.

So in the end, he’ll just have to fuck you here.

-

you’re at the sink, watching the dishes on your own after offering to do so.

Of course everyone protested, but you convinced them that it’s the least you could do since they’re letting Chris and you stay there.

you sigh to yourself in relief as you get down to the second to last plate, hands tired and pruned from all the washing.

“Love,” a voice calls from behind and you don’t budge when two bulky arms wrap around your waist.

“I’m almost done, Chris. go to bed.” You say, rinsing off a dish.

“But I wanna help you." He whispered, grip only getting tighter as his head fell into the curve of your neck, placing soft kisses there.

“I don’t need help.”

"Yes, you do." He insisted, his voice husky with desire. “You’re taking so long already.”

“You’re so stubborn. Just go-“ your breath hitches, feeling his innocent kisses switch to sucking and biting.

“C-Christopher stop it.” You slap his arm, “that hurts.”

Chris hummed softly, letting go of your skin with a soft pop. “Can’t help it. You just look so delicious standing here.” He whispered, rocking his against you and you gasp.

“you’re hard..?”

"Been like this since I saw you in this dress." He admitted, his voice rough. "I want you so bad, y/n."

his hands slid up to cup your breasts, pinching and rubbing your nipples through the thin material.

“We can’t do this in your parents' house.” You protested despite how turned on you were getting.

"I don't care." Chris rolled his eyes, "We’re going to make love. Right here, right now."

he pushed you against the sink, his thick, hard cock rubbing against your backside. You don't even have a chance to think before your fishnets and stockings are being ripped open.

“Wait, wait.” "No more waiting." He hissed, sliding his hands over your lace panties and pulling them to the side.

"I want you bare for me." his fingers traced the slick folds before sliding inside you, filling you up with two fingers.

“Y-you’re insane”

“You love it," he grunted, punctuating his words with hard slaps against your ass. “You love being taken like this.” He pushed his fingers deeper, stretching your tight channel.

You absolutely fall apart on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as he pumps you restlessly.

“Gonna come on my fingers, hmm?” He whispers into your ear, nipping at it right after. “Go ahead then, beautiful.”

you bite back your moans as your orgasm rushes in, still trying to be mindful of the people within the house.

“That's it." Chris praised as you coat his digits. He pulls them out slowly and your hole puckers for more. it was such a pretty sight, ripped tights, soaked thighs— his dick twitched in anticipation.

Chris hands shook slightly as he pushed his pants and boxers down to his ankles. He positioned his tip at your entrance, teasing it just to get a reaction out of you.

“channie, please.” you whine, wiggling your ass back.

Your boyfriend chuckled, “soon, sweetheart.” he said before sinking inside. He hissed at how tightly your wrapped around him like he hasn’t fucked you enough.

“fuck, you’re so big.” You mewled.

"Not big enough." He growled, starting to move within you, his hips thrusting hard. The feeling of his cock stretching you walls drove you wild, every nerve in your body was in flames. “Wanna break you open, make sure you can only fit me.”

The kitchen was filled with heavy breaths and the sound of the water running. You had no idea if his parents could hear you from their room, but at this moment you didn’t care. Just wanted to be used by the man behind you.

Chris' thrusts were hard and fast, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he took you from behind. every time he hit your g-spot he got closer and closer to cuming.

“I love you so fucking much.” He groaned into your ear, hips stuttering. “wanna cum inside today. Can I? Fill you up with my seed?”

“yes, please” you granted, feeling your peak rise for the second time. “I need it.”

“Take it.” his fingers tore into your skin as he emptied himself inside. His cock throbbed, pulsating with each powerful stroke, leaving you quivering and sated. the white liquid dribbles down whatever’s left of your outfit, eventually getting soaked up in the fabric.

“I’ll have to buy you a new pair, won’t I ?”

“Not if you’re just gonna fuck em up again.”

Tinytag list (open, comment if you wanna be added) : @foxinnie8 @panjakes @sydnerss @sunnyyangie

[lilac-5ky]

Hiya! Can you do one when y/n is bratting off to toji while grocery shopping at 3am(they're alone)🤩😍

A/N: Funnily enough I was sent this while grocery shopping myself. Also, I'm aware that another writer also did a request like this recently, but who am I to say no? However, I'll raise you this: Bratty!Reader dragging Toji to the store at 3am with the goal of having fun 'cause he's been neglecting her.

Tags: public sex gone wrong, unprotected sex, implied car sex, age gap (toji 30's, reader 20's), spanking, bratty reader, soft!dom toji, light degradation, daddy kink, piv, standing sex, name calling (slut, whore), nicknames (baby,sweetheart, kid, etc.), lowkey sugar daddy vibes from toji, talk of masturbation, our man being pussy drunk, theft!?!

Word Count: 3.9k

“Ya seriously gonna wear that?” Your boyfriend’s eyebrow quirks at the sight of you plopping down on the passenger’s seat, the sharp green eye it framed cautiously studying the naked parts of your body; dressing rather than undressing you whole.

“Already am! Why—‘s there something wrong with my clothes?” You bat your eyes sweetly.

This was all part of a bigger plan that was set in motion the second you interrupted his sleep and dragged him out of bed to rev up the car for your nightly excursion to the 24/7 grocery store. Your pink terry-cloth shorts and loose-fitting crop top that barely stretch over your thighs and belly button, respectively—those are your props for the final fact, and you, the star of the show.

“You’re wearing makeup.” Toji accuses as if that’s the root of all evil, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His nose scrunches up. “And perfume.”

“Really?” You feign ignorance with a candied smile. “Must’ve forgotten to take it off. Oopsie.”

“Forgot…sure.” His fingers are still in your hair when he nods, his hand sliding down your neck as he leans closer.

Toji isn’t an idiot. He sees it in the way your pink tongue darts outside your lips a bit too often, wearing off the two layers of gloss you’d carefully applied while he was waiting for you to fetch your precious coupons. He notices how your thighs rub together, your little pussy silently protesting for his neglecting it all night long. And when your cheek willingly tilts into the warmth of his large palm, he knows neither radishes nor toilet paper are what’s in your mind right now.

“My baby doin’ all this for my attention?” His thumb pads across your skin, swiping below you defined eyelash line. “Acting pouty cause I didn’t take care of her needs?”

You find it hard to resist when his other hand dives between your thighs, sidetracking from your own devious plot. He sounds earnest in his efforts, his lips curling into an an apologetic smile they sear on yours. You almost moan from that.

You can’t remember the last time he’d kissed you, even when that was a few days ago, at worst. What you do remember is the reason why you’re doing all this, and you refuse to return it. You let him pointlessly swirl his tongue in your mouth, failing to meet with your folded one.

“C’mon, princess, don’t go cold on me,” he mumbles. “Told ya work was shit today.” You said that the previous day, too. “Couldn’t even keep my eyes open to see how pretty you are. So damn pretty,” he takes his chances again, only this time you have no qualms about backing away toward the window.

His frustration gathers in his grip, his fingers digging crescent moons in the fat of your thighs. He glares, and you chuckle awkwardly before the situation can get out of hand.

“That’s not it! So what if this is the eight night in a row you come home beat after midnight and we haven’t… you know, in nearly two weeks? You think I’m counting? You think I don’t know how hard you work? That I don’t appreciate all the nice things your money’s gotten us?”

You plant a quick peck on his blossoming scowl. “Because I do. I really do, it’s just today’s the last day to cash these coupons out. Don’t want me going off on my own in the middle of the night, do you?”

He keeps quiet, the sole reason he allows himself to be manipulated by such cheap tricks being that up until fifteen minutes ago he was —unbeknownst to him— drooling on your pillow. That and to strip you off your clothes later on; a reason not too dissimilar from your own.

“Let’s go. I promise we’ll be snugglin’ in bed before you realize we were gone.”

“Are those stupid coupons worth that much to ya?” Toji asks.

No, they aren’t. You couldn’t care less about these stupid coupons if you tried, but staying home means spending another night burning your eyes at your phone’s screen by the snoring corpse on the left side of the bed. And you’d tried. You’d gone through every lingerie set in your possession, dabbed a generous amount of that falsely advertised Moroccan oil across your legs and rubbed your silky-smooth cunt all over his crotch like a bitch in heat, only to be turned down with another of his hoarse groans.

You’ve been patient with him. You are grateful that as tired as he was, he chose your bed to pass out on and not some random “coworker’s”. That the flawed man you’ve fallen head over heels for put up effort into straightening up for you. But relationships don’t run on gratitude alone. You miss him. His touch, his kiss, his fuck—even the green color swallowed past his permanently shut eyelids. If a silly idea is what it takes to have your boyfriend back, then you’ll gladly sit through a ten-minute drive of resentment.

“Yes, they are.” You smile, watching his hand relocate to the gear lever.

The clock points to 3:18 AM when Toji pulls over at the vacant parking lot that mirrors the state of the store; no one but a single employee to defend the fortress from the safety of his register. He acknowledges your presence with a nod, his head buried between the pages of the latest Shounen Jump. That’s not very professional of him, but what can you expect from someone who receives his paychecks for acting as a guard dog?

Toji grabs a cart from the stand and lazily pushes it into the first aisle, while you follow after the long-drawn gait of his sandals. You can’t help but pick on his slouch, both elbows balancing against the handlebar. His hair’s still ruffled from sleep, though it’s always kind of messy in a cute, boyish way. His shoulders seem twice as broad, prompting you to loop your arms around his slim waist and nuzzle your cheek against his back. You love how big he looks from this angle, yet not as big as he looks when he’s hunched over you with both your legs on both his shoulders—

“What’s your first coupon for?” He glances at you over his shoulder.

You sort the coupons in your hands, finding the one closest to the aisle you’re strolling.

“Soda. It’s right there,” you point out, and he takes a turn.

He parks the cart on the opposite end of the shelves while you take stock of the different cans and bottles, contemplating whether to start high or low. Your eyes fall on a six-pack bundle of grapefruit soda shoved deep into the highest shelf. You don’t love the flavor, but this will do.

You tiptoe to the shelves and stretch your arms as much as possible, your shirt lifting to reveal your bare back to him while your fingertips barely make contact with the edge of the plastic packaging. Your tits bounce as you jump up and down a few times before you graciously admit defeat.

“Toji? Would you mind getting that for me?” You ask pleadingly.

His jaw falls slack after a minute-long yawn, his eyes tracking your index finger to the bundle it points at. He cocks his head while sizing you up, a hint of a smirk twitching at his scar. He’s finally awake.

“Nah, you do it. Aren’t ya the one who preaches women’s equality and says there’s nothing men can do that women can’t?” Toji sneers. “Go on, kid. ‘m watching.”

A sigh leaves you as you turn around. “Feminism‘s got nothing to do with height.”

You throw yourself over the shelves again and hook a finger under the plastic net that binds the sodas together. The cans shimmy near the brink, and you are certain you will catch them when Toji’s hips suddenly snap against your ass. You yelp as the cans threaten to squash your head, a hand catching them with ease in mid-air while another hikes up your shirt and exposed underboob.

His hot breath tickles the shell of your ear as his lips attach to your lobe. “It’s got everything to do with you dressing like a whore, though, doesn’t it?”

You bite your lip into a straight line as you’re sandwiched between his body and the shelves, his fingers pinching your nipple harshly. You almost whimper—almost give in to him too easily when he starts grinding onto you, the press of his groin becoming more prominent with every languid sway.

“Wanna get fucked like one?” Toji doesn’t mumble so much as groan in your ear. “Promise I’ll be quick; heh, might give ya some more coupons after.”

An automated message informing you of the special discount in the baking aisle allows you to slip away from his clutches, and you’re unable to keep your giggles to yourself. His fists pang against the shelf while he curses under his breath. The sight is pathetic, but not pathetic enough for you to call things even. You want him to suffer like you did.

“On second thought, I’m trying to cut down on soda.” You declare much to his audible dismay. “Let’s check the baking aisle next. We’re out of bread.”

Toji stalks behind you, assuming his previous bored stance while pushing the cart forward with his entire body. You hear him huff every now and then, but don’t pay any mind. At least he’ll be rewarded handsomely for his patience. Yours wasn’t.

You halt in front of the various loaves and pastries, overjoyed to see that the overpriced organic linseed bread you constantly made excuses to not buy is 50% down. This might be a good chance to try it out. You fling it in the cart and continue your search for baked goods on the lower shelves. Jam-filled donuts. You definitely don’t need those, but it’s the only purchase you can justify, considering you have no use for the baking supplies surrounding them.

You make sure his eyes are fixed on you and bend over, exaggerating the arch of your bum. You hum softly, unsuspecting of any danger, and rock your hips while supposedly inspecting the labels. Strawberry jam, cherry jam, apricot jam, and—there it is. Your hair falls over your face as you catch his feet stepping between your own. Soon, his presence is felt rather than sensed.

Toji’s palm spreads over your cheek, his fingers long enough to squeeze a good chunk of flesh between them. “You cunning little slut,” he says in a gravelly voice. “Y’think I don’t know what you’re trynna do?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just checking the fillings; can’t read the letters while standing.” You lie through your teeth.

“Fillings, huh?” He repeats, and the word changes meaning on his tongue, gaining a lewd intonation. “Anyone can fill that sloppy cunt from this angle, sweetheart. That why you insist on doin’ groceries alone? Y’enjoy letting others see my pussy?”

You love how possessive he gets over your body. That’s another thing you’ve missed. You want him to say it again—to stake his claim over every inch of your body like he did before this hellish month began. You chose this store because you knew it would turn into a graveyard at this hour, but you honestly wouldn’t mind if it was packed with people either. You’d want to be filled by him all the same.

In a moment of weakness, you breathe out his name, and he slaps your ass so hard it reverberates across the aisles as an off-beat drum to the chirpy background music.

“Don’t ‘Toji’ me, girl. Y’know what to call me.”

“D-daddy,” you correct.

“There’s my baby,” Toji praises. “Taught her good manners, mhm?

Your cheeks assume a rosy shade. You’ve never used that name on him in public. It feels exhilarating—perhaps even more so than his fingers shoving the fabric of your shorts to the side and slipping right between your dripping folds.

He gasps. It’s a tiny sound that he thinks you missed, but it’s enough for you to gain confidence. Not many things are capable of shocking the Fushiguro Toji. His other hand joins in the action, rolling your shorts until they dig into your skin like a thong, and his suspicions are confirmed; you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

“Such a naughty girl,” Toji says, and his voice reaches deep within your pulsing core. You don’t think you can do this anymore. Correction: You don’t want to do this anymore.

His middle and ring fingers push into your hole a second time, and he slowly pumps them in and out, your clear essence coating his knuckles. Two fingers shouldn’t stretch you this good. You’re scared that in all these days, your pussy forgot the stretch of his cock.

“I oughta punish ya for acting up like a complete brat without my permission, but I’m feeling generous.” He says and you thank the gods, the universe, and whoever else is listening to your prayers for not letting you become the first woman in human history to experience blue balls.

“Tell me what ya dragged me here for, and don’t gimme any of that coupon bullcrap, or else you’ll be crawling outta here on all fours.”

Is that a promise or a threat?

His thumb finds your clit and you choke on a moan, the red jam squirting out of the donuts you grip. That’s plenty to answer his question.

“Now tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it for ya,” He rubs a full circle around the nub, the rest of his fingers plunging in so deep your knees go weak. “Got lots of options,” he reads the signs over your heads. “Canned; Deli; Snack; Dairy Aisle might be too cold for ya, hah, unless you’re into some temp play.”

His stalling makes you impatient. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right here, right now I’ll fucking implode.”

The older man chuckles lowly, finding your outburst positively endearing. He fixes your shorts back in place and instead grabs your hand, forcing you to follow him through the empty aisles on a walk that seemingly lasts for hours. He finally lets go when you make it to the Candy aisle, where thousands of colorful gummy bears can bear witness to your sinful act.

Toji flashes a wolfish smile as he corners you between two walls and the door leading to the store’s storage room. He points at the ceiling, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking for until he explains, “It’s a blind spot here. Only place without a working camera.”

He cups your cheek and brings your face to his, licking his lips.

“How do you know that?”

“Great minds think alike. Wanted to bring ya here myself some day. Didn’t think your prude ass would act out first. You’re full of surprises.” His tongue enters your mouth and presses flat against your own. Your fingers lace behind his neck, and his get a firm grip on your hips. He’s much harder than before.

“Speaking of your ass,” and they slide to seize both cheeks, “mind turning ‘round for me?”

His question isn’t a request so much as an order you must obey. “Good girl.” Toji praises you and cages your chest with one arm while the other searches for the zipper in his pants. He lets them ride low around his hips and pulls his cock out of its confinement, stroking it with his fist. You hear his breath grow sharper—or maybe it’s yours. You can’t tell over the sound of your heart; the excitement the same as if it were your first time with him.

Instead of tugging your shorts off, he yanks the fabric to one side and runs his reddened tip between your puffy folds. He hasn’t even pushed it in when you tilt your head to meet his hooded green eyes. “I’ve missed you.” His stare lifts, lustful and adoring as ever. “I’ve missed you so damn much, Toji. You’re always here, but never really here—you know?”

Toji cranes his neck to kiss you, you think, but in reality all he does is swallow the moan that comes out as he drills his cock in your hole. “Missed ya more, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes. He just has to win this too.

Once he bottoms out, he takes a moment to snare his arms appropriately around your body; one holding your shoulders semi-straight and the other spanning over your tummy to grab onto your tit, bulging muscles on both. There’s not much you can do with your hands in this position. You plant them over your mouth to drown out some of your sounds before they can pour out, though most end up slipping anyway as his cock begins to bully your insides.

You were right. It’d been so long that your pussy had reverted to its previous state. It’s more than you can take. More overwhelming and much more pleasurable than you remember.

“Got no idea how much I missed you,” Toji grunts, his voice falling out of tempo while his hips rut at a steady pace. “Got no idea how many times I jerked it to your pictures in the stall. How many—times, I beat my meat to that gorgeous face and spilled my load over your pretty lips.”

Tears well up in your eyes from how fast he’s pounding you; the imagery of his balls tensing up with all that cum he’d wasted fantasizing about you making your pussy sob for him, too.

“You got me running there so often, the guys talk shit behind my back, saying pussy got me whipped. They dunno how perfect this tight little hole is—fuck, baby.” He stutters, his teeth sinking into your neck. “Gonna cum if ya keep grippin’ me like that. So fucking tight cause ya gettin’ fucked in public?”

You whine out loud as he slows down, allowing for your hips to meet his thrusts half-way. Your head is drooping forward and your hand sneaks inside your shorts to play with your clit, flicking the small bundle of nerves while his fat cock continuously brushes against your sweetest spot. You bite at your own palm to keep quiet. It’s always the way he runs his mouth that gets you going the most, clouding your inability to think straight.

“Should I just quit?” Toji asks between heavy pants. “Stay home and fuck every day like we used to?”

You nod furiously without anything of what he’s saying registering. Your legs are turned into jello and your mind into mush while his cock splits you open, and you know that if he retracts his arms you’ll collapse on the floor like a rag-doll.

“C’mon, speak up. No one’s gonna hear us, that nobody doesn’t have the guts to come check.” He rolls your stiffened nipple between his calloused fingers, a palm coming down to slap your ass. “Lemme hear that pretty voice.”

“Y-yes.” You rely on pure perseverance to keep your pitch low as you plant your palms on the wall for support. “Don’t wanna share your cock with anyone, T-Toji.”

His lips print a smile on your neck and another on your cheek. “Don’t you mean me, darling?”

You can’t find your voice to answer him, the coil in your guts continuously tensing up—promising the best climax of your goddamn life until it’s taken away by the rapid stomping of the short-stature employee.

“What are you two doing here?” The man asks, unable to fully take in the scene from the other end of the aisle.

Toji’s large frame covers both you and the point where your bodies connect, his hips still moving on their own in spite of his attention being elsewhere. You pull away half-heartedly and straighten the shorts over your body. He leaves to fix his own clothes, while he does all the talking.

“Huh, this place got no restroom?”

Toji scratches the back of his head, waiting for his zipper to be back up before turning to the man. You mentally cast a curse on the employee, wishing it follows his family down to at least three generations, while your walls still flutter over the absence of Toji’s cock, which by the way, is impossible to hide when it’s throbbing a dark stain in his pants.

To no one’s surprise, the employee doesn’t buy your boyfriend’s excuse and demands you leave before he calls the cops. Seeing as Toji’s had enough trouble with the law as is, you grab his hand and the two of you bolt outside, the linseed bread bidding you a sorrowful goodbye from the cart you abandoned.

You don’t stop running until Toji beeps the car doors open and you fall back into your seats, the first glance you share causing you both to burst into laughter. He leans in your direction and you tilt your head in his, lips stealing a quick kiss that’s soon replaced by a playful punch of his shoulder.

“I liked this grocery store!” You complain as if it’s his fault. “Won’t be able to set foot in here ever again.”

“Plenty of fish in the sea, kid.” He shrugs, twisting the key in the engine. His hand moves to the gear, but when he notices your pout persisting, he turns off the ignition.

“Couldn’t even cash out any of my coupons,” you say in a whiny tone.

“At least we got these.”

Your eyes widen as he reveals a small box of Konpeito candy, having not a single clue when and how he managed to get them. “You stole them?”

“Uh… let’s just say I wasn’t allowed to pay for them.” He answers with an innocent smile.

“Toji!” You yell as if stealing candy is any more severe than any of the multiple felonies he’s committed. It isn’t. “Gimme some.”

Toji holds the box out of reach, extending his arm over his headrest to the backseats. “Nah. You said it’s stolen goods, don’t wanna make my baby into an accomplice. You’re far too cute to have your own mugshot.”

His sweet-talking doesn’t stop you from pouncing at him again, your hands attacking each side of his head while he insists to wiggle them away from you. The second-hand vehicle tips back and forth at your attempts, and eventually honks are fired as you climb on his lap, the fight resulting in another make-out session that reaffirms all of his statements as he tears your clothes off your body and pulls his dick out.

He missed you too.

“I’ll give ya some, but… you gonna let me choose where we do our shopping next.”

A/N: I'm happy this was my first request, had fun writing this!

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hello! I came up with an idea for bi-han and Tomas. What would your reaction be like waking up naked next to your secret crush? As if they had a dinner with more friends the night before and they overindulged in alcohol, which led them to this situation. You don't have to do it if you don't want to ;)

bonus at the end!

Bi-Han: -Waking up with a headache pounding in your head is already terrible. -But also turning around and having your crush face at one inch of distance, nose already brushing against each other, is a heart attack inducing experience. -You don't scream, soul already left your body long ago, but you stop breathing, worried you may wake up the grumpy grandmaster. -You don't remember anything about the previous night, but you still have clothes on. -But these aren't yours. -This is gonna be remembered as the day you grew more than one lock of white hair. -You spot your clothes on a chair, so you lift up slowly as you can, trying to regain your clothes and possibly disappear without leaving any trace. Forever. -"What do you think you are doing?" It's a voice you recognize way too well. The clearness of it not matching the owner face, tho. Eyes half closed and hair perfect as a nest. His very cold hand grabbed your ankle, stopping you in your place. "Home? Under the ground? Disappear?" -Now he looks better at you, onyx eyes piercing your body, mouth slightly open trying to elaborate your words, like you just said the dumbest thing on the planet. -"Nothing happened yesterday night, go back to sleep." "Can you elaborate a bit more?" You politely ask, still not feeling same. -"Yesterday you got drunk like a some dumb teenager and never stopped clinging to me. I just helped you." He groans, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Why am I wearing your clothes then?" "You poured your nth drink on yourself, and I didn't want your dirty and sticky clothes in my bed." "Oh." A few seconds of silence, his hand now pulling your ankle towards the bed, getting more forceful. -"So, you took care of me! You have a soft spot for me!" You shout in excitement, making Bi-Han groan again "Ohhh do you have a crush for me, Grandmaster?" His pillow hit you straight in the face. -There must still be alcohol running in your blood because you would never be so brave in daily life. -"Don't worry, it's the same for me!" And something clicks in Bi-Han's mind, you see it in his eyes, now awake, mouth slightly open; he almost looks awestruck. -"Go back. It's too early now." He grumbles back, eyes close again and head on his pillow, yours thrown somewhere in the room after hitting your face. -You plop next to him immediately. After all those trainings, you are sure he wouldn't mind if you use his biceps as a pillow.

Tomas Vrbada: -You wake up in his arms, trapped in his hold. Not because he is actually holding you, his arms are simply heavy, and you are too tired to move them. -You want to die, worm your way out of his bed, and pop away in a cloud of smoke. -Maybe your thoughts are too loud, and soon you hear a groan, greyish eyes now open, looking straight into yours. -"Oh! Eheh. Seems like we got closer again while sleeping." You gulp, your mouth still dry. "What happened yesterday?" -You sit up, and he follows you, trying to keep the same eye level. "It was an…intense night. Maybe it's better if we talk in the kitchen." You nod. "The? Coffee?" You tell him your choice, now you are standing up, noticing that you aren't wearing the clothes of yesterday night, but what it seems a layer of Tomas' usual suit. -"Yesterday you drank too much, and kept clinging on me." "…" "Then when I brang you to my house, you poured on your clothes the water I gave you." "Wow I was a fucking mess." "Well I can't say the opposite. That's why you are wearing a part of my suit." Tomas says, turning sideways. There a fat red hickey catches your attention. -"I must have ruined your fun." You say, chuckling with death in your heart. "What do you mean?" He replies, furrowing his eyebrows. You point at your neck, where his hickey should be. His eyes widened before looking down bashfully, making you feel even worse. -"This…you made this." -WHAT. It's the turn of your eyes to widen. "You were a bit touchy-feely yesterday." -You felt like barfing, and not for the alcohol. "This is terrible Tomas! I'm so sorry." You say, voice full of sorrow for your actions. "D-Don't worry. But you need to promise me this-" "I swear I'll never drink again, I'll never bother youo, I-" "No, please listen. I think we need a bit of distance between us." -Straight to your heart. Hit and sunk. -"Don't misunderstand. I-I have a crush on you." Tomas says holding your hand, but eyes still on the ground. "Yesterday hurt like nothing else. I wanted to kiss you back and love you. But I didn't want to take advantage of you. It just isn't right." Now his grey eyes look back into yours, expression serious. -"I don't want our friendship to be ruined because of my feelings-" "I like you back." Tomas' mouth hangs open. You don't give him the time to reply. "I have been for a long time. That must be why I kept clinging to you yesterday. Now, if you want distance because I did something wrong I agree with you. But if you want distance because your crush may not be reciprocated, I have to deny your request." Your head still hurts like crazy and you don't know with which strength you are able to talk with such determination in your voice. -Now both your hands holding. Heart beating in unison. -"N-No, I mean. It's the second case. Like…do you really have a crush on me?" Tomas's cheeks get more and more red each second going by. His voice a bit higher than usual. "I do." -He releases your hands, now covering his face. "I can't believe this. You really have a crush on me?" "If you ask again I may change my mind." "No! Okay, you have a crush on me." "I do. You too?" "Absolutely." -"So…don't I look cute?" You say twirling around, his suit fluttering when you twirl on your place. "Yes, you do." He finally looks at you, but looks at you for real. Your bedhair, makeup smudged and his suit makes you look absurdly cute. -"Don't you think cute things should be kissed?" He nods. "Tomas?" "Mh?" He replies, mind clearly elsewhere. "Kiss me." This time the message was delivered. -Thankfully you both forgot to have morning breath.

bonus under the read more!

I know that with "you" you meant the reader, not my opinion in waking up in such a scenario, so I'm gonna write down here what I would do LOL.

Bi-Han: I can't believe that I would sleep with him even if intoxicated. But if it happeend I'll just crawl away and hope to never see him again. If he notices me I'd say something along the "I thought you were Johnny Cage". At that point I'm sure that I would be able to exit his house, dead or alive. Probably dead.

Tomas: Oh-I forgot what happened, maybe we should remake what happened yesterday night *twirling hair*. Maybe once won't be enough? Let's go for twice. You know what? Three is the perfect number, are you ready. 1-2-3 go!

[rs-hawk]

(Batb) Belle can’t sleep properly because of nightmares,one stormy night she decided to go to the west wing,asking beast for some company,the problem is so beast has sleeping problems and he’s kinda self conscious about how he sleeps (probably naked) and where he sleeps (a smashed bed turned into an animal nest)

Once again apologizing for the delay in Day Six.

CW: mostly a fluff piece but does discuss nudity and themes of arousal, pregnancy and breeding. Intended for an 18+ audience

Belle always had a little bit of trouble sleeping, but when the rain came pouring down, it’s like she can’t breathe on her own. After hours of tossing and turning, she decided to make her way to the West Wing. While she knew that Beast has told her not to, she hoped that he would understand why tonight she felt like she had to. She just couldn’t be alone, and the furniture servants wouldn’t make her feel safe the way he did.

Cautiously, she made her way to the West Wing, not wanting to wake any of the servants up. She worried that they would make her go back to her own room. Luckily, everyone seemed to be fast asleep, and her footsteps were drowned out by the loud cracks of thunder that made the castle rumble. Each crack made another chill run down her spine, but that only spurned her on.

Finally, she got to the West Wing. It took her a little while to navigate the unfamiliar wing of the castle, guided by streaks of lightening flashing across the sky. There were portraits that she wanted to come back and look at when there was more light, but for now, all she wanted was to find Beast.

When she got to a set of heavy doors, she tugged them open, hoping that they were the doors to his bedroom. Inside the room was a mess, with a small table and a glowing rose shining on it. Her eyes were glued to the rose for but a moment, because in the soft glow of it, she realized that she could see Beast, tossing and turning in what seemed to be a sort of… nest?

“Beast?” Belle whispered, taking a few steps closer. Beast snored, curling almost into himself. “Beast, can I lay down with you?”

As if on cue, a loud clap of thunder made her jump, knocking over a chair. The sound of the chair hitting the ground stirred Beast from his fitful sleep. When his eyes met Belle’s, whose were wide and terrified, the anger bubbling in his chest immediately dissipated.

“Are you alright?” he asked, pushing himself into a sitting position. However, as he did, he realized that he had been in bed. As always, he wore nothing to sleep. Heat burned his face, making him grateful for the thick layer of fur covering it. “Why did you come here?”

“The storm,” she answered, looking down at her slippered feet. “I just… I hate storms. It’s hard for me to sleep. I was hoping you would keep me company. Could I sleep in your bed?”

Beast looked down at his nest, and his unclothed body, his nostrils flaring slightly with embarrassment. “Belle, I don’t think this would be very comfortable for you.”

“It’s okay! I’m sure is plenty comfortable. Please?” she asked, not realizing yet that he was naked, assuming he was only talking about the nest.

After another moment of hesitation, he nodded. “Fine. Come in then.”

Belle smiled, slipping off her slippers before crawling into the nest-like ruins of Beast’s bed. Only when she laid down, cuddling up against Beast, did she realize she could feel his cock rubbing against her leg. Her face flushed, making her bury her face into his chest.

Beast let out a low groan, her warmth making it difficult to ignore how badly he wanted to bury himself in her hot cunt. He wondered how she would look with her belly swollen with his child. How a ring he had inherited from his mother would look on her finger. The leaking tip of his cock only further made him wish he slept with something on, but it was too late now. Belle was dozing off, taking comfort in his presence. He couldn’t move her now.

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