#it’s mostly watch dogs though :P

[artem1sc0re]

Hehehe collab art I did for me and my partner @nickthenoncomedian ’s 2nd anniversary ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Also a silly little video here :P

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Veni, Vidi, Amavi

Also on AO3

Part I // Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.8k words

Summary: After your first encounter, you attend the next games to watch Lucius fight, and celebrate his victory with him after.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ ONLY MINORS DNI), canon naval battle with some canon divergence, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood and death, reader is a courtesan (so SW), some angst, mutual pining, semi-exhibitionism (there are guards around), sort of audio voyeurism, unprotected p in v, aaaaand I think that's it but lmk if anything else!

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The roar of the crowd was near deafening as you made your way to the Emperor’s box behind Queen Lucilla, General Acacius, and Senator Gracchus. Hundreds of feet pounded in a war-like rhythm, all eager — or more like absolutely salivating — for a good spectacle. Snapping and jeering like rabid, bloodthirsty dogs.

You would never understand that insatiable, sadistic need to see another’s brutal destruction. Nobody ever thought they would watch somebody they loved be subjected to it, just strangers who weren’t really people in their eyes. But it was more common than most would like to admit, the sand forever stained not just with crimson, but also with the salt of mourning tears.

You hid your unease behind a cool, placid mask, smiling back at Senator Gracchus as he glanced at you over his shoulder. He had been curious when you had first requested to attend the games with him, but having just found out about Prince Lucius’ return and rising fame in the arena, he was amused at your antics. 

Your patron might be old, but he was no fool. Gladiators always caught the eyes of pretty, young girls like you, especially ones such as Lucius. It was really no wonder you’d want to see his glory for yourself, so he had conceded if only to indulge you.

And when he’d helped you off the litter that had carried you to the Colosseum, he had not been surprised to notice you were hiding a garland of myrtle inside your sleeve. A common enough offering to Venus, goddess of love. He made no mention of it, though, content to just watch how things played out. 

Once you’d arrived at the box, each of you knelt in front of the twin emperors and kissed their rings. Emperor Geta smiled down at you in that enigmatic, impish way of his, but his brother mostly ignored you. Not that you really minded escaping his notice, though. Better than his scorn or, worse, his interest.

“Let us begin,” Geta said, his excitement palpable as he rose to address the crowd. “We are all in for a real treat.”

You went to stand next to Queen Lucilla, sensing that her tension matched yours, even if she was perfectly poised and regal. She’d had many more years of experience hiding her true emotions, after all. You shared a small smile with her, both silently recognizing it as a moment of solidarity.

“Citizens of Rome!” Geta called out, his voice rising above the crowd. “Today, in honor of General Marcus Acacius' triumph in taking over Numidia, you will be witnessing no mere games!”

A heavy, metallic noise resounded throughout the arena as it seemed to shift, the ground underneath you shaking fiercely. But what you heard next made dread sink into your stomach like a heavy stone – rushing water. A flood’s worth of it. Soon enough, the arena was immersed and massive sharks were fed into it, menacingly circling about. At opposite sides, great iron gates groaned open to reveal two war vessels flying different colors – Roman and Barbarian.

And captaining one of them was a figure you recognized all too well, even at a great distance. You felt as if a fist were closing in around your throat, robbing you of breath. Instinctively, you stepped forward to try to get a better look, but Senator Gracchus put a hand on your back to stop you from going past the thrones. 

This seemed to anchor you back to the present, and you reminded yourself that the Lucius that you saw in the arena was not the tender one, but the fearsome warrior.

Let him live, you thought pleadingly, clutching the garland tighter. Oh, Gods, please let him live.

General Acacius waved at the crowd, muscles tensed even as he smiled, thanking them for the great honor. Emperor Caracalla, infected by the madness of bloodthirsty enthusiasm, jumped to his feet. 

“It is war!” he cried, smiling sadistically from ear to ear. “Real war!”

If it was even possible, the crowd roared louder, the cacophony railing against your eardrums. Queen Lucilla clenched her jaw, gripping the headrest of one of the thrones tightly. With a shaking hand, you accepted the wine Senator Gracchus offered you and clinked your glass against his.

The two vessels circled each other closely, quickly searching for any weaknesses and readying to strike. The Roman fleet was cocky, though, moving in without a shred of uncertainty. The Barbarian vessel narrowly missed their initial attack, but they came close enough that a few Roman fighters jumped onto their boat.

The loud clash of swords followed, a few bodies falling overboard, some still living. The waters bloomed crimson, the sharks going into a frenzy at the scent of blood. You spotted Lucius again in the chaos, driving his sword through the last invading Roman fighter and yelling out commands to his fellow gladiators. 

Both Emperors leaned over the edge of the balcony, shouting and jeering along with the rest of the Roman populace. General Acacius hovered near them, but he watched as somberly as the rest of you. The vessels came close again, but in a cunning move, Lucius made his rowers pull the oars at the last moment before impact. 

The oars of the Roman vessel tore into the side of the Barbarian one, tipping it sideways but effectively getting them both stuck together. Fighters from both sides clashed once more, desperation seeming to take place as both boats were threatening to capsize. 

Without noticing, you grasped Senator Gracchus’ arm as you waited for the outcome. He placed a hand over yours, watching just as raptly. Numbers dwindled quickly in favor of the Barbarian fighters, and you felt like you could almost sight in relief. But what happened next was so fast that you almost thought you’d imagined it.

Before anyone could actually be declared victor, an archer loosed an arrow that sailed towards the emperor’s box, landing between their thrones. Chaos ensued, the two of them crying in outrage and surprise. Immediately, General Acacius and the Praetorian guard moved to safely evacuate them. 

“Let’s go, all of you!” he commanded, voice booming.

Senator Gracchus ushered you and Queen Lucilla to follow as some guards encircled the three of you. You tried getting one last look at the arena but saw nothing more than the splintered masts of the vessels. Thankfully, Lucius was still alive, at least for the time being.

But just in case, you sent a prayer up to the Gods that nobody else noticed he was the one to shoot the arrow. 

—--------------

A small torch was your only source of illumination as you navigated through the streets of Rome to the prison where Lucius and his fellow gladiators were being kept. After relaying Lucius’ demand to see you, Queen Lucilla insisted on sending one of her guards with you. He marched at your side, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready for any possible assailants leaping forth from the dark. 

You hid your face under a hooded cloak and let your companion speak to the jail’s guard as you arrived at the iron gates. The jail was cavernous, damp, and cool, and oppressive in the darkness of night. You shuddered, unable to fathom being imprisoned in such a place, even for a day. Your heart ached for those who already were, ignorant of when – or if – they might be released.

He guided you to Lucius’ cell, opened the large, heavy padlock, and let you in. Both guards waited outside of the cell to give you some privacy, and you removed your hood so Lucius could see you. He stood up from his cot, a smile slowly breaking out on his handsome face.

You let him take you into his arms and kiss you, leaving you swaying on your feet. You pulled away just enough to look him over as if reassuring yourself he was alive and all in one piece. His smile didn’t falter under your assessment – in fact, it seemed like he was proud to have proved himself to you, keeping the promise he’d made at the bathhouse. 

“Today was… I don’t even have the words to describe it,” you said, hugging him close. “When I realized it would be no ordinary fight, I feared for you… I still do.”

He placed one of your palms on his chest, right over his heart. “You have nothing to fear. I’m here.”

You glanced over your shoulder to make sure the guards weren’t watching, then lowered your voice to a whisper.

“What you did at the end, it was beyond foolish,” you said, shaking your head slightly. “I made an offering to Fortuna for all the favor she bestowed on you today. I do not think anybody else realized, or else we would not be standing here.”

“Another reason to celebrate,” he said, not bothered in the slightest. “Perhaps it was even luckier that the arrow didn’t strike true.”

“You really meant to kill one of the Emperors?” 

He shook his head. “Not them. Acacius. But in reality, I wouldn’t have minded if either of them had fallen.”

“I suppose it was a good thing the rest of us were out of range,” you murmured, looking down.

“I would never harm you,” he said gravely, grasping your chin and making you look him in the eye. “Never.”

You were nearly floored by the sincerity in his gaze, but even more so by the passion you found there, as well. It went beyond lust, even. Nobody had ever looked at you in such a way. You leaned forward and kissed him gently, letting him know that you trusted him.

“I know, Lucius,” you said.

“Then, let us not concern ourselves with anything, or anyone, else for now,” he said. “Tomorrow, the sun will rise and Rome will still be Rome. In the meantime, there is only us.”

The echo of his words at the bathhouse made you smile softly. A part of you wanted to ask more questions about his wanting to kill Acacius, but there was a slight edge of finality to his tone. Regardless, it wasn’t like you wanted to waste what little time you had together lecturing him. 

You reached up to undo your cloak, intently holding his gaze, and let it fall on his cot. “Claim your prize, then, fierce warrior. I am all yours.”

With a glance outside, he extinguished the torch in his cell and closed the distance between you. His lips melded against yours desperately, tongue slipping into your mouth. With ease, he lifted you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist.

He sat on the cot so you could straddle him, his hands wandering down your back and settling on your ass, giving it an appreciative squeeze. He groaned into your mouth, his chest rumbling against yours. He pulled your dress over your head as best as he could, leaving you in your thin shift. 

His hands traced the curves of your hips and waist, like a sculptor working clay into a masterpiece. He cupped your breasts, your nipples poking through the fabric, and you leaned back to give him access. He managed to pull the shift down to your midsection, revealing your chest. He trailed open-mouthed kisses on your sternum, moving lower. 

His tongue teasingly flicked one of your nipples, making you suck a breath through your teeth. He lavished them both with attention, the graze of his teeth and the pinch of his fingers igniting a fire within you. You continued trying to be as quiet as possible, even if he made it extremely difficult.

You reached between your bodies to palm his growing erection over his tunic. His hips bucked upward, seeking more of your touch. One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, leaning your forehead against his.

“How does it feel,” he rasped. “To be the only one who can disarm me so completely?”

You felt a heady, triumphant rush, nipping at his bottom lip. “I’ll keep the secret for you.”

He chuckled, surrendering to another fervent, dizzying kiss from you. You hiked up your shift as he lifted you slightly so he could free his cock from beneath his tunic. You spat on your hand and reached down to spread it on the sensitive head, moving to grip the base so you could line it up with the entrance of your cunt. You sank down slowly, your face so close to his you seemed to share breath. 

“Just like that,” he groaned, hands gripping your hips tightly. “I needed this more than you know…”

“Let me take care of you,” you whispered, letting out a breathy moan, head tipping back in ecstasy. 

You felt like you were filled to the brim by him, clouding all your other senses. He slid in and out of you easily, your arousal dripping down his length and pooling on his sac. His mouth was on your chest again, your fingers weaving through his hair. 

“Oh, Lucius…” You sighed dreamily. 

He pulsed at the sound of his name on your lips. In order to prolong the pleasure for both of you, he rolled you onto your back on the cot, keeping himself sheathed inside of you. He pushed your legs back, driving your knees past your elbows, his weight pinning you down. 

His thrusts were deep and hard, but not fast, intent on letting you feel him in his entirety. Your face contorted with pleasure, the intensity of it all nearly too much for you to bear. He groaned your name with the intensity of a supplicant. His sac tightened as he felt you squeeze around him, knowing he wouldn’t last too long no matter how much he tried. 

“Say my name again,” he said, eyes blazing. “Say who you belong to.”

“Lucius,” you panted deliriously, tears gathering on your lashes. “Ah, Lucius!”

His thrusts picked up the pace, frenzied, the sound of flesh slapping together unmistakable. You cupped his face in your hands as you felt yourself coming apart under him, trembling. A cry threatened to escape you, but he covered your mouth with one hand, muffling it. 

He shushed you gently, but his breathing became ragged as he reached oblivion himself. You felt warmth flooding your cunt, his last thrusts shallow, fucking his spend deeper inside you and making sure no drop was wasted. He uncovered your mouth and kissed you as if in apology, both of you dazed and content.

He rolled over to lie very closely at your side, the cot barely big enough for the two of you. His strong arms enveloped you once more, making you feel safe perhaps for the first time in your life. There were still a few hours before sunrise – before Rome and everything else that came along with it became real again – so you could languish with him for a little while longer.

The last thing you wanted was to untangle yourself from him, anyway, instead nuzzling closer. Your fingers softly traced patterns on his forearm as you pondered what this might mean for the two of you.

“Do you… really intend to stake your claim on me?” You asked tentatively. “Outside of this?”

You deliberately avoided any specific labels, not foolish enough to presume anything. Things were still precarious and new, but you already felt bonded to him in a way you couldn’t truly explain, and a part of you had to believe he felt the same way.

“Of course,” he said, but seemed hesitant to say more.

You shifted onto your belly to look at him, his fingers now tracing up and down your spine lazily. 

“Are you certain?”

He nodded, sighing deeply. You’d already known there was a lot weighing on him that he did not speak about, and while you didn’t want to add to his burden, you needed to know this. If only to save yourself some pain.

“There are a great many things at stake right now, including my freedom,” he said, looking up at the ceiling pensively. “Much of what I still have to do is dangerous, and only the Gods know the outcome of it all. I intend to do everything in my power to protect you, in the meantime, and I cannot allow you to become a part of what must happen. I cannot risk losing you.”

You weighed his words for a moment, then nodded in understanding. “You are lucky, patience is a virtue I possess in great quantities.”

He looked back at you and kissed the tip of your nose affectionately. 

“I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep,” he said, lacing his fingers through yours. “And I can promise you that as soon as I walk a free man, the first one I will run to is you.”

-------

[tgcg]

this is my element (+ album)

asking me to pick my fave album is like asking an orphan matron to pick her favorite baby boy

thats some weird and cruel circumstances to put upon me i feel like it changes every damn week like a rota

i mean what if my beats misbehave and i gotta put 'em in time out i cant play permanent on that theyre too cute

but yknow what i can show you one thing thats been on my mind lately

===

so when i was a kid we had this skateboard vid by "element skateboards" on DVD

they were this skateboard kit slash apparel company that was all about progressivism and shit and they did these much lauded comp tapes of dudes riding around on their boards and doing the dopest of macho tricks on the shit

flipping it turnways

putting the rock in the house like a big man

we had some of their merch actually

===

so anyways the one we had back then was This Is My Element

released 2007

mostly clips from cali i think and i mean the camerawork is fucking insane on some of those shots

this is gonna sound lame as fuck but i prob spent so many cumulative hours just peelin through the footage and ogling the shit outta it

that framing was tight

===

so you may be asking yourself or me

dave you genuine dicksucker i asked about your fav album not your favorite sordid ass display of smooth dudes hardcore riding and grinding them boards in public dude you have a problem

ok well that wasnt a question first of all so jot that down

but anyways to THAT i say

listen to the music

the whole thing has an original soundtrack of ambient beats

got some abstract hip hop jams, got some more indie stuff, lots of acoustic sampling

HELLA underground

and basically every track minus one is done by sampler beast david p. madson AKA "odd nosdam"

dude is my hero seriously

he is the master of the beat machine i shit you not hes always been kinda my idol on this stuff

aside from bro obviously

===

obviously.

===

anyways he had an E-mu SP-1200 which is a really oldschool sampler invented by dave rossum in the late 80s

revolutionary to the hip hop scene

nosdam had this mega distinct sound to his music that i always wanted to replicate on my own beats

still do

i dont know for sure if he used it on T.I.M.E. but he uses some of the same samples from "vol. 9" which was exclusively SP-1200 so im gonna get a lil j’accuzi on that

it couldve been a boss dr sampler SP-202 though idk

he had one of those

===

so aside from beating the shit out of the pause/resume button to flip my whole cranium at the cinematography or whatever i would also kinda play it on loop to listen to the soundtrack and space out at 2am

the lonely broner seemed to free his mind at night

ok shit broner is good but i didnt mean it like that

that was goofy lets just keep movin

it was the only way i had to listen to it back then but i mean the video is 50 mins long so its basically just an odd nosdam album with accompanying ambient skater sounds and random expletives and whatever

random car sequence

yknow what i dont think people respect enough?

the dude who catches all the "mad stunts yo" on camera

i swear to god at least half the time hes ALSO on a board and that shit is bananas to me

bros gotta be on some whole other level of zen to skate good AND catch all them glamor shots of his fellow skater

thats like an express ticket to the ER imo

the ambulance is already on the scene watching you like an eager crow watches a half dead dog

===

ok gonna go ahead and lay it out flat

not great on a board myself

kinda dogshit at it actually

so maybe im not exactly an arbitrator of skateboard heinousness

but i always kinda liked watching THEM do it i mean who doesnt?

whats an even crazier layer to stack on the "dave" cake is

and dirk told me this because unfortunately it kinda happened post-2009

he would do all these collabs with one of my childhood favorite underground rappers david cohn aka serengeti

surrounded by daves left and right dude even before all the time travel horseshit

thats like

serendipitous as fuck i think!

===

if sburb was just a revolving door of artists called dave that i could bump fists with

instead of other mes in various states of aliveness tending toward extremely dead

i wouldve probably given it something higher than 2 stars on my TGN review

===

so yeah you ask me my favorite album its T.I.M.E. by odd nosdam i guess

bump that shit on a walk your mind will go places unknown to man

[sordidmusings]

Give (in) and Take (me) - (Beckman x Reader)

Art by shibama_TK9

A/N: *Hasn’t completed a smut in weeks, comes back throwing a niche character at you to spread simpin for him like a virus* plz love him he’s great and while he ain’t my main I’d have nooooooo complaints in partaking 😩 tryin to give the Beckman lovers some content because it is devastatingly scant and he’s quite the treat

Word Count: ~8.7k

Warnings: fem!reader, NSFW, there’s some plot at the front and back, bratty reader, brat-tamer Beckman, he does the Nanami hair grab 👌🏻, semi-public, standing, against the wall, man-handling, clothed sex, p in v, creampie, praise, degredation, lots of teasing on both sides, age gap? (briefly mentioned, ~30 and late 40s), Beckman is a lil mean but don't worry he's Whipped, this some filth filth 🥴 whoops

Now please come enjoy prodding the big gruff man (who just wants to treat you right) until he snaps

(˵¯͒〰¯͒˵)

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

You’ve had enough of the raucous jubilation in the bar, especially now that you noticed your awaited opening unfolding before you. The rest of the Red Hair Pirates were fully distracted in their jovial whirling, hooting, and playing, leaving a certain silver smoke cloud all by his lonesome. You’d been dancing through his whisps all night, enjoying how they’d wrap and curl around you as you went. It was in their nature to do so. Each brush of a hand got a shiver and a sigh and a trailing stare. Each floated conversation was leaned into, breathed in, savored. Each departure was followed with the turn and lean of his chest, pulled to follow from the sure grip on his thumping heart until his doubts rooted him down and resisted the tug.

You were plagued by your own doubts, mostly of what the “after” would look like, but you were certain of one thing: he was attracted. Along with his need to entwine with your presence, you’d noticed the tell-tale sign of his gaze drawn to lips, neck, breasts, hips, and thighs. You’d noticed the hunger growing his pupils so they could better suck in your image on each glance. You’d noticed how he had to keep flicking his tongue out to wet his lips, mouth dry from restrained need. Most importantly, you’d noticed the way he had to shift and shuffle while he watched you dance, fighting the need to pull you away for himself to join and trying to flush the heat from his body. Whatever it was that was holding him in his seat and keeping his hands and lips and tongue off of you, you were going to drag him right through it until he was fully in your grasp.

First thing’s first, you retook your spot on the stool next to him at the bar. Immediately the smoke tendrils embraced you; your drink was scooted back in front of you, his thigh slid sideways to seek the brush of yours, a lethargic smile took residence on his face to greet you. You responded with a coy smile of your own and then a hearty gulp of your drink. The steady burn and potent taste of liquorice cutting through the muddled mint and lemon centered you and heartened you for your plan of attack.

“Thanks, Becks, glad to have you as my cocktail guard dog,” you said with teasing humor. You gave his thigh a friendly pat that crossed the amicable boundary with a lingering hold and gentle squeeze, before you brought the hand back up to give you another sip of your drink. The taste of touch on his thick muscle had it twitch in delight. Your mouth watered at the feel, not quite sated with alcohol on your tongue when there should be skin.

“Any time, darlin’,” Beckman responded easily and honestly. “Though I don’t think there’s any here who would do much to it. Much more likely one of the fools will steal it to drink for themselves.”

You laughed at the statement, knowing how true it was. When the crew was drunk they got sticky fingers, and when it came to drinks they were the worst - none quite remembering whose was whose and caring even less to get it right. Knowing where you wanted to try and get this night to go, you’d kept yourself far behind them in intoxication. You kept yourself right in the sweet spot of inebriated enough for that coveted liquid courage but not so much that you were out of control of yourself. Besides, if you got your way you didn’t want any of the details to be foggy.

“Even so, it’s appreciated,” you reasserted, giving him a winning smile and stalling his heart. “Now can I ask another favor of you?”

“‘Course you can, darlin’,” he replied instantly. Another cheer rang out in the background, followed by the beginnings of a long and loud drinking song. Beckman used this as an excuse to lean into your space to better hear and see you. “What can I do for you?”

You centered yourself more forward towards the bar, just to force him to lean in even closer to chase you, and peeked at him from the corner of your eye. The look mixed with your mischievous smile had him ready and eager to agree to whatever you had in mind. Not that he’d let you see how easy it was for you to sway him.

“Well…” you trailed off, just to make him squirm, “I can think of lots of things you could do for me. I’m having trouble picking my favorite.”

Beckman’s brows rose at the blatant flirting. Sure, you’d both thrown some flirtatious comments at each other throughout your relationship, but they didn’t feel anything like this. They felt easy, friendly - like something to build rapport and have fun. This felt so much heavier - a gift offered to him that was pulling the possibility of closeness from cloudy dreams down to the ground with the weight of the warm cast of the bar lights, the dark desire in your eyes, and the sultry tone of your voice. He began to recount how many drinks he’d had to check if he was imagining the advances he’d long wished for. Maybe he should check for you too.

“Darlin’, how many drinks you got in you?” There was genuine concern in the question, mixing with a touch of incredulity. You scoffed at it all.

“Not enough to lose my sense, thank you very much,” you answered. To snub his misplaced worries, you downed the rest of your drink. “That was only the fifth of the night, we’ve been here hours, and you know it takes much more than that to take me down.”

“That it does,” Beckmann conceded. The bare affection in his voice and eyes while he said it had you flushing, finding care much more difficult to process than lust. “Now my task?”

Yet again, you took to keeping him in suspense. Instead of answering, you slowly drew your gaze over him, assessing him. He fought against the small shiver it put through him; he felt like you were staring straight through his clothes. He felt like he was getting the most important appraisal of his life and all he had to go on was the burning in your eyes and your cryptic smile. You were doing a better job of reading him; while his expression remained perfectly schooled, you were observant enough to see his tells. Just as when he watched you dance, he shifted in his seat, working through the flush of arousal poured on him from his nervousness and having your eyes glued to him. Between the curtains of his wavy silver hair, you saw his Adam's apple bob with a strong swallow. He started lightly drumming on the bartop with his fingers on the hand closest to you.

Using that to your advantage, you made your next move. Doing it slowly so he could layer each second with his anticipation, you trailed your fingertips across the knuckles of his fidgeting hand, halting the motion. You flicked your gaze up to check in on his eyes. They mostly held confusion, but so so much interest was also packed into his silver irises. Happy with the reaction, you proceeded to move your teasing touch further, traveling over the back of his hand and his wrist to play with the soft hair on his forearm in deliberate circles. Though he was nearly bursting with questions, Beckman kept his mouth shut and resolved to let you lead this at your own pace until you finally decided it was time to reveal your hand to him.

“I’ve decided,” you started, finally breaking the silence with an alluring whisper, “that I want more than one favor.” You stopped watching your fingers touch him to look at him through your lashes. “And I know where you can start.”

Beckman blew out a long breath, hoping to settle down his heart, which was still jumping and kicking. You’re not drunk, but this has to be the alcohol. You couldn’t be propositioning him. Him. Maybe he’s just a curiosity? Perhaps you were interested in trying out an experience with an older lover who’s had more years to learn his way around a woman? Maybe, even though you could have your choice of any of the patrons, you found him to be the easy target.

“And where is that?” he asked, making sure to keep his tone steady.

“You can take me home.” You noticed the real shock in his gaze, and for the first time in the encounter a bit of panic seeped into you. Thinking quickly to soften the blow, you explained, “Don’t wanna walk home alone with even a little alcohol in me, and I know you’ll take care of me.”

“Aye, darlin’, that I will.” The honesty in his words stoked your courage back into a steady burn even better than the one brought on by the hard drinks.

Using the hand that had been trailing over his forearm, you loosely held his wrist, slid smoothly from your seat, and began leading him out of the bar. Beckman followed you easily. You didn’t have to put any pressure behind your hold on him; he wouldn’t let you get more than a step ahead of him. Even with his close hover, you both ducked and weaved with practiced grace through the chaos of your crew and the rowdy celebration they’d whipped up with all the other patrons. By the time you’d reached the entrance, you’d ducked three swinging fists, five drunken “dances”, two frisbeed hats, one flung fork, and a pair of tossed shirts.

The door shutting behind you sealed away the cacophony of the crowd, melding it with the comforting ambience of late night bugsong and strangers distantly living their lives. The outside world felt pleasantly chill and calm, especially in contrast to the atmosphere of the bar. The slight bite to the air only made the small contact between the two of you feel that much sweeter in its skin-to-skin warmth. Both you and Beckman sucked in a deep breath of crisp evening air to savor the moment. 

Throwing a cheeky (and, to his worry, slightly plotting) smile his way, you began to head in the direction of the docks. You only made it about eight steps. The moment the alley between buildings opened on your right, you yanked Beckman into the shadows with you. He stumbled after you with barely a fight, continuing his emotional flavors of the night: confused, intrigued, and happy to be here. Once you fell past the full streams of light from the street lamps, you spun around to him and pounced. 

You began by rooting him in place, fisting your hands tight into his shirt by his waist and stepping so close that your chests and stomachs and hips and thighs touched. You leaned up to place a kiss right above the point in his v-neck, relishing the heat of his skin against your lips. You shivered at the feeling of a twitch of interest against your lower stomach. His hands quickly found your waist and gripped. He worried the flesh under his fingers, earning his first quiet moan from you. It only made his grip stiffen, warring with himself between his disbelief at your advances and the rabid need to pull you closer and make sure you never stopped.

Beckman began to use his hold on you to ease you back from him. You responded with a frustrated whine and greedy hands. Those hands massaged their way across the packed muscles of his sides and chest before twisting in the fabric over his large pecs and tugging him down to your height. Taking advantage of the untouched skin now within reach, you kissed and sucked your way over his collarbone and up his neck.

His plan of retreat crumbled under your advance, leaving him to paw his grip down to the meat of your hips and try not to succumb to the fierce instinct to grind his aching cock against you. Your head spun with your rushing blood and skipping breaths. The whirl was spurred on by finally getting to know the taste of his skin, the feeling of his coveting hands keeping you close, the sound of his stuttering breaths morphing into panting. Now you just needed to spur him from receiving into action.

“Beck, touch me,” you whispered against his ear. He shivered fully from your lips and breath ghosting over him and filling his skin with addictive tingles. Losing his concentration, Beckman guided your hips in one long, sturdy grind against his straining hardness. You nipped his earlobe in appreciation. “I want you to touch me.”

“You’re drunk,” he weakly protested.

“We both know I’m not,” you shot back. Switching your methods, you crawled your hands up his shoulders, his neck, and into his hair. You led him with sweet and teasing kisses against his cheek and jaw, playing with the way his head always tilted to follow your affections in a wanting daze.

“You should look for another man to share your body,” he tried again, this time managing to sound assertive through the breathiness of his voice.

“Do you really want another man touching me?” you bit back at him.

“No,” he instantly growled. The mere idea had always put a pang in his heart but feeling your touch and hearing the words from you made it more real, and he was no match for the spike of angry possessiveness that overtook him.

“Good,” you cooed coyly, lips back against his ear, “because I don’t want that either.” You took a long moment to tease your nails against his scalp and nip the skin next to his pulse. He succumbed to another torturous grind against you. Each press of him gave you a better idea of what he was hiding and had your mind running rampant trying to figure out how it would feel splitting you open.

“I want you,” you moaned, pushing all the genuine need into your voice that you could.

“Come on, pretty thing, you don’t mean that,” Beckman stubbornly argued. He’d sound much more convincing if he wasn’t moaning the words out with his strained rumble, turning the statement into a plea.

“I do though,” you whined back to him, right below his ear where you were working hard to leave another pretty mark. For all his propriety fueled hesitation, Beckman was still leaning down so you could reach his neck and tilting his stubbled jaw away, pleading for more of your attention. “I do mean it.”

Your own desperation and his unspoken pleas for your touch fueled your boldness. One of your hands left his tresses to wedge between your pressed hips and grab a hold of him. A groan shook through his ribs, only encouraging your hand to press and feel more. His cock twitched and jumped under your slow strokes and palming, begging for your touch when he wouldn’t. His cheek fell to your shoulder and his humid panting caressed your neck.

“Pretty girl, if you keep touching me like that,” his speech was interrupted by a poorly restrained moan, “I’m not gonna be able to keep my head.”

“Then don’t,” you encouraged, voice rushed and ravenous and pulling him to the depths of his urges in his new favorite siren song.

Having felt him in your palm, you became set on getting to feel him skin to skin. You wanted to feel the power of the radiant heat that poured from him so strongly you both felt like you were burning through your clothes. You wanted to see what’s been hidden from you, become privy to secrets that will let your fantasies forever hold more reality. You wanted to know he let you have this piece of him, let you take his body and take control of his pleasure. On top of all of that, you wanted to feel, see, and know the thick hardness that was going to stretch you wide open.

In your rush, you only gave yourself time to trail a few kisses down his chest on your way to your knees. Beckman leaned himself back on the wall of the bar, opening himself up to as much of your touch as you would give. He still attempted to keep his defense under the siege of temptation, taking to opening and closing his hands at his sides to keep them from manhandling you. He wasn’t strong enough, however, to push you away. Each touch of yours was teasing him with the heaven he’d been dreaming of finding under your hands and in your body. Now having had a taste of your touch, It’d take nothing short of a gun to the head for him to break from anything you were willing to give. Doesn’t mean he won’t try to steer it so you’re taken care of the way he wants you to be.

He looked down at you, hypnotized by the radiant image of you and your styled hair and your decorated lashes and your smudged lipstick actually kissing him, treating him with the desire he thought impossible. His eyes had long adjusted to the darkness of the alley, blessedly letting him take in this image to hoard forever. 

As your knees hit the dirt path, it hit him - alley. You were getting yourself dirty to touch him, basically in public in your rush, stuck in a location with only hard ground and stone walls for comfort. The realization had his cock throb hard, getting an eager moan from you where you were kissing along his length while your fingers made their way under his sash to find the waistline of his trousers. Fuck, this was a dream. It was a dream, but not the one he wanted for you where he takes his time worshiping every inch of skin, treating you like royalty, going slow so when he makes you cum it shakes you from toes to fingertips to the crown of your head-

“Darlin’, you deserve better than some back alley fu-”

“What I deserve is you; now let me have you,” you grumbled back to him, nosing his sash up so you could leave kisses and nips right above the hem of his pants. You inched them lower and lower, following their descent with your hungry mouth and savoring every new speck of skin you could. You got past the ridge of his adonis belt when you realized he had nothing on underneath them, making your mouth water with ever more anticipation. You could tell from the tenseness in his muscles, the tremors in his thighs under your clawing grip, that he was at the end of his rope. Centering a kiss on his happy trail, you looked straight up into his eyes and ordered, “Now fuck me.”

You were just about to get his pants low enough to let his painfully hard cock out to greet with a kiss when an angry hand took hold of the hair at the back of your head. It clamped in a fist and turned, taking absolute control of you. White hot adrenaline poured through your body, bursting fresh with each hard pound of your heart and stuttering your every breath. That iron grip jerked back, forcing you to crane your head back with it and look up at the imposing bulk of Beckman looming over at you.

“You want me to fuck you?” he growled dangerously, leering down at you with a growing scowl. Steadily he curled himself down until his nose bumped yours and you were sure you could see how the lighting and lust had turned his eyes from shining silver to dark stone. The light pulsing in your scalp was no match for the shadowed face and piercing eyes of Beckman taking over your every thought and dragging your heartbeat low to drum between your legs. “Fine. I’ll fuck you like the slut you’re set on being.”

“I’ll happily be a slut if it's for you,” you breathed out before you could think, sounding nearly in a trance from his sudden dominant behavior.

The declaration had his cock jumping and his knees weak.

“Darlin’,” he moaned, voice stretched thin by his taut, straining need. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He surged down, stealing your lips in a bruising kiss, using his hold on your hair to control every tilt and press. Right away, you opened to each other, exploring the flavor of each other’s tongues and indulging in the tingles brought on by sliding the slick muscles over each other. You shivered and moaned when he flicked the point of his tongue on the roof of your mouth and he swallowed the sound down greedily. Never breaking his claim on your lips, Beckman hauled you up to your feet. The action set a pleasant burn on your scalp as you chase the pull of his grip. Your hands went back to work on getting his cock free, but he snatched them up.

“No,” he rumbled against your lips. “You’re just going to take what I give you.”

“Beckman,” you whined back to him between your continued fervent kisses, “let me touch you.”

“Sluts don’t make demands,” he snapped in a bitter taunt. Using his height to his advantage, he pulled out of the reach of your lips. He was still able to lean down over you and keep distance, forcing you to keep your head craned back with his fist in your hair and his gaze holding you hostage. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

“I want you,” you moaned in complaint. Though your voice was warbly with want, your tone was way too petulant to be considered begging. Even so, it was testing his resolve.

“You’ll have me,” he answered gruffly. 

Before you could realize what was happening, you were flipped around and swapped, now facing the rough wall of the bar with Beckman right behind you. He had released your hair so he could trap each of your wrists to your sides. He kicked your feet to spread with heavy boots and settled eagerly against your ass. He anchored you against him by pulling on your wrists, keeping you trapped against his grinding hips. The height difference had him centered at the level of your tailbone. The feeling of having you against his cock was overwhelming, especially with the plush of your ass massaging at his sensitive balls. Quiet grunts accompanied each circle of his hips, always carried with the erotic sound of his heavy breaths.

You tilted forward and arched your hips up, seeking attention against your weeping entrance and swollen clit. The change had his dick nestle between your cheeks, the base of his cock and his tense balls giving you a small piece of the pleasure you were seeking. He stood just barely too tall for them to give any attention to your clit, causing you to shift and shimmy back into him in search of more. Despite the lack of direct stimulation, your body was still in a pleasant buzz; he felt large and heavy and hot against you and your mind was swimming in joy at how hard you made him. The open-mouthed groan you earned from him with your squirming shot enough pleasure through you to have your clit pulsing.

“On your toes, slut,” he ordered.

You listened without thinking about it and were rewarded with the new height lining him up much better to grind against everywhere you wanted him. Well - almost everywhere. Most of all you ached for him to massage you inside out, rub and dig into every slick plush space you could offer. Despite the burn already entering your calves, you tilted your ass up even higher to feel any extra speck of friction you could get from him.

Beckman’s grip on your hips was commanding, he owned your every sway and grind of your clothed cunt and ass against him. The skirt you were wearing was beginning to ride up with each thrust, exposing inch after inch of fresh skin to his hungry eyes. Both of you thanked your choice of garment as he used one hand to shove it up and over your perked ass to hang limply around your waist. It swayed and brushed your legs with each continued motion, hypnotizing Beckman for a moment. 

That moment was broken when he instead looked at your ass, smooshed high and round with each grind, your underwear cutting sinful lines across the muscle, making your skin pop around the tension in the most mouth-watering way. It had Beckman moaning from deep in his chest again and thanking whatever lucky stars he had that let him have you in front of him like this. The sight mixed with the new heat from being just that much closer to getting to your bare cunt had a flurry of possessiveness and need overcome him. He nearly bowed forward to the strength of it, but fought the call so he could keep watching your body writhe against him.

You had no doubt you were sopping wet, more than enough to make his slide in slick. Each grind of him against you had your soaked panties dragging with him, causing sharp friction that was just on the right side of too much. You wondered faintly if you were getting his pants wet too, wishing you could easily turn and see to find out. You wouldn’t have been disappointed; a steady dark spot had built on his crotch from a mix of your leaking pussy and his weeping cock. You had gotten him dripping pre-cum the moment you began kissing down his chest. It had only gotten worse with each touch, his body desperate and ready to be inside you.

Suddenly, one of his hands and his hips disappeared from you, leaving you feeling lost. Before you could stop yourself, you let out a whining moan at the loss, sounding fucked out and pathetic without either of you truly being touched yet. The small coherent part of yourself marveled at the number he had done on you.

“Don’t you worry, pretty thing,” Beckman grumbled, half placating and half condescending. The sound of shuffling fabric clued you in to his missing hand’s task. “I’ll give you just what you need.”

His large fingers hooked into the sides of your underwear, guiding them over your ass until they fell down. Your slightly spread legs had them catch on your thighs and Beckman huffed at the inconvenience.

“Stay right there,” he rumbled in warning as he crouched down. He dragged the soaked cloth the rest of the way off, guiding you with gentle cues. The slide of his fingertips down your legs sent tingles across your skin, but the delicate hold he put on each ankle to ease them out of the garment had your heart thumping. In this process his touch switched from tyrannical to reverent, making your mind sing with hope. That song only hit a great crescendo when he peppered the backs of your thighs with sweet and slow kisses.

As he rose back up and shoved the ruined cloth in his pocket, Beckman broke you both out of his worshiping trance by giving a playful and slightly mean nip to your left hip. You let out a little yelp despite yourself and he chuckled at the reaction, finding it absurdly cute. You shivered again at the throaty sound, nerves too easily tweaked from your potent anticipation. It only got worse when his hips found yours again.

Both of you moaned at the feeling of finally meeting skin to skin, immediately addicted to the wet heat and heady throb of each other. You sent your hips high with renewed vigor, spurred on by the need to chase more of the feeling of his thick cock against you. You were right about him being thick and long; his grinds spread your folds wide, exposing your entrance and clit to the sweet friction, and he laid across the length of your pelvis. It let him see the leaking red head of his cock peeking out from between your cheeks, the filthy image making his eyes roll back and an involuntary moan of “fuck, darlin’” growl out of him.

Beckman hooked his right arm around your front, nestling it as close to the tops of your thighs as he could get. It let him use your hip bones for stability in his hold, saving you from your weight crushing the limb into your stomach. The anticipation of feeling your legs bounce against his arm while he fucks you had him salivating.

He curled his arm, pulling your lower back flush to his abs. It made him take your weight, the toes of your shoes just barely scuffing the ground when you pointed them. You’d seen his insane strength before, but feeling it used on you had your body lighting on fire along with your cheering mind. Beckman’s other hand slid from your hip down and in on your thigh, spreading and lifting your leg until he was holding the inside of your knee out to the side. It left your cunt exposed to him, each grind of his further mixing your arousal with the pre-cum spreading down his cock. 

“Hold that wall and keep your voice down,” Beckman instructed, “Unless you’re such a whore you need an audience.”

You let out a complaining moan at the harsh words but still writhed eagerly against him, unable to deny how they had you fluttering in anticipation. Your hands found purchase on the stone wall in front of you, giving you a sense of balance and security in your barely supported upper body. You were close to it so your arms were bent, allowing you strength and leverage. The force behind his grinds had you sure you’d need it.

Slowly and deliberately, Beckman slid his cock from root to tip between your slick folds, threatening you with his impressive length while he made sure he was properly coated. He only stalled the movement when his thick tip found its way down to your entrance. Unable to help himself, he ground a tight circle around it, groaning out a deep “fuck” at the feeling of your cunt trying its best to suck him in. You let out another keening moan, sounding vaguely like “please”, at the realization that his head was the perfect width to stretch you out right to the edge of your limits.

Angling his hips just right, Beckman followed the catch of your entrance to start forcing his way into you. You were right about the size of him; only his mushroomed tip was in and you already felt like your hips were being pressed wider. His achingly slow sink into you let you both feel every overwhelming bit of contact, every delicious rub of soaked skin on skin. Your mouth hung open, letting out appreciative moans, even though your attempts to hold them back left them clipped and jumbled.

Beckman had to shut his eyes and scrunch his brow to handle all the sensations flooding him. You felt so goddamn perfect wrapped around him. He felt somewhere in his being that you were made to be here with each other and force bliss from your pounding hearts and bodies. He finally fell to the call to curl as close to you as possible, his temple rested on yours, his stubble teasing your cheek, and stray gray hairs sweeping down to tickle your skin.

“So, so good, darlin’,” he praised breathlessly. He made it another inch into you, offering your cunt more firm flesh to clamp down on. “You feel better than a dream -nnngh- got the perfect pussy for me.”

An unrestrained moan tumbled past your lips at his praise, brain too empty and body too happy to care about anything anymore other than him and the feelings he brought out in you. The cheering and music from the bar was loud enough to lightly leak through the walls, so you wouldn’t have worried too much about attracting attention anyway. 

He hadn’t prepped you any, but the abundant arousal sitting in your body so long loosened you up and made sure there was more than enough lubrication for him, especially with the addition of his own. His torturously slow press into you helped your body make room for him too. In fact, your pussy was so eager to open for him he felt like your walls were trying to suck him in quicker as they quaked and trembled around him. It made it near impossible to resist the urge to shove as deep into you as he could go, needing the hot grip of you around his aching cock and the pleasure of your plush ass and thighs pressed tight against his hips.

When he finally got there, you were both shaking and gasping. Your head felt light with the amount of bliss swimming through you at finally having him like this, held tightly in you while you shared your bodies. It also helped that he had you feeling so deliciously full; the press of him was potent enough to spread through your sides and up through your chest. It was the biggest stretch you’d taken but his size was just perfect, like he was built just to fit you and you him. The weight of his thick cock rested down towards your stomach, primed to massage your every favorite nerve.

“Just like that, darlin’,” Beckman groaned, starting his first pull back out of you. He continued with his slow speed to make you feel every ridge and vein in detail. Your favorite was the rim of his head dragging across your swollen walls. He sat that head just within your entrance and paused. “Bein’ such a good little slut.”

Right at the end of his praise, he shoved forward to fully sheathe himself back in you. The force of the thrust pressed the air from your lungs, creating a breathy moan, and gave you a taste of pleasure that had you certain that no matter how long he fucked you, you’d always want more of this potent bliss. You could live like this, fucked the rest of your life, just so long as he never stopped taking and touching you. He continued the strong and steady pace, needing to savor every second in your cunt, memorize every twitch and flutter. It had you whining, mind fraying under the threat of how much more he could give you.

“Beckman,” you moaned in frustration. “Give me more, I -ahhh- I need it.”

A punishing thrust had you feel him in your throat and your eyes rolled back in time with your high pitched moan. That moan turned into a rough whine when he stayed sat fully inside you instead of continuing. To tease you further, he began tight circles against you, making his pulsing cock play with every inch of your cunt, earning him a tight clench from you. This tantalizing rub continued as he moved to nip at your ear lobe.

“What did I say about making demands,” he warned, rumbling the words right against your ear. The puffs of his breaths shot goose bumps up your neck. He tilted his head down to tease his teeth over the flesh and continued his maddening little circles against you. With one leg trapped in his grip and the other barely reaching the ground, you had almost no leverage to work yourself back against him. Your abs burned with the effort as you tried to use your grip on the wall to stabilize yourself and grind back, but his iron grip was much stronger than any of your attempts.

You sobbed out a few needy moans at his continued meticulous playing with your body. Though you wanted so much more right away, that steady press of him waking up every inch of your insides was starting to build a pit deeper in your stomach than the one you were used to. Your mouth watered at the thought of what a full body high it could bring you but it felt so far away and you wanted to be smothered in pleasure now.

“Beckman,” you whined out, catching the way it made his breath hitch over your skin. “More, harder.”

Nothing changed and you were stuck spread open and suspended and at the mercy of his whims. It was the most deliciously frustrating thing you’d ever experienced, being forced to take the slow treatment. It made your body and mind agonize over every little sensation, every pulse and throb, every inch of you he reached that you’d never felt before. It made your ears take in the obscene sound of the little motions of his cock pushing drop after drop of your arousal out of your entrance to drip down his balls and your thigh. You flushed at how graphic it sounded, ears, face, and neck burning, especially with your combined heavy breaths and mixed moans and groans.

“You’re gonna have to try much harder than that, pretty little thing,” he goaded. You could hear the taunting condescension in his voice and you cursed the fact that it made your pussy spasm around him. The twitch of his cock that it earned inside you swelled your desperation to feel more from him until it swallowed your pride whole.

“Please,” you gasped, near truly sobbing in need. “Pleeeeease, fuck me harder, Beck, fuck me faster, please, just -hhhah- just need more.”

Beckman sucked harshly on your neck and set about answering your pleas. He changed right to fucking you fast and hard, making you yelp at the immediate flood of sensation. Your thigh and hips jumped in his grasp as you tried to take the onslaught. Every nerve in your pussy burned in the most beautiful way, emptying your head of any thoughts other than Beckman working your body into a quick frenzy. His teeth, lips, and tongue were decorating the sensitive skin of your neck; his hands and arm were clamped, making you feel blessedly trapped; his torso hovered on the back of yours, giving you brushes of his hard working muscles in motion; and his cock - his perfect cock - was bullying you open over and over and lighting every quaking inch of you ablaze.

Through your panting breaths and scattered moans, you could hear the wet slap of his hips against you, each impact making a little more arousal gush out of you. Being spread as you were also let his heavy balls tap against your clit with each hard thrust, ensuring every wired part of your pussy was seen to. You could barely form words but you were sure he caught the slurred praises you sent his way from how he echoed them back and kept adding more and more heat, pressure, grind, suck, and drag on you at your breathless moaning.

Stuck on the start of the encounter, he kept repeating a favored phrase to you - “So good, darlin’, such a good fucking slut”.

“Your slut,” you panted, “only -hnngh- yours.”

The pledge of ownership had his eyes rolling back and his mouth more ravenous against your skin. He needed to keep you locked to him forever, be on your skin forever, brand you as his, and have you mark him as yours.

“That’s right, darlin’,” he rasped, “only mine.”

He dropped your suspended thigh in favor of sinking a bruising grip into your hip. Your thighs clapped together with a wet smack, forcing a yelp from you as it jolted your clit. He placed an apologetic kiss on your shoulder and got right back to his tempo. The deep pressure he’d built with his deliberate grinding was now added to by every thrust, creating a shaking warning of the orgasm to come that sat from hip to hip and up to your ribs. It felt like he was fucking you just as deep, each drive of his cock seeming to replace the beating of your heart in your chest.

The new dancing on your toes had your calves, thighs, and abs working in sporadic clenches and twitches, the jerks and shifts causing pulses around your clit and into your trembling cunt. The new position made him feel all the wider as it let your labia relax around him and light up with delicious friction on each thrust in and pull out. The squeeze of your legs and muscles also put constant pressure on your clit, which Beckman would jostle with each forceful fuck into you. 

All of it was getting to be too much and you were happily drowning under the rising tide of that threatening orgasm. It was swimming through your body so thoroughly you were sure you could feel each strong thrust pull pleasure from your very bones. Every piece of you that lived between your hips felt blinding white hot and pulsing and alive and so so very good. 

The cherry on top of your euphoria were the pieces of the feeling you could hear echoed in Beckman. His voice was deep and groaning but also strained and fucked out as it whispered dark praises against your neck and shoulder. His breath was ragged and just as desperate as his touch, which was trying its best to permanently attach to your skin. His aching cock was just as responsive as your trembling pussy, dripping and twitching and jumping with each move and touch of your body.

Responding to the telling grip of your cunt clamping down constantly around him, Beckman slowed his pace slightly, focusing instead on the strength of each thrust and keeping his angle just right to drag you to your end. It accented the sound of each strong clap of his hips into yours and brought back clarity to the feeling of his thick cock spearing you. Your mouth hung open, panting and watering from the change of pace and unending pound and pull of him fucking your cunt into the shape of him.

“Beckman, Beckman, Beckman -ahh!- so cloooose,” you cried, voice thin and desperate. He cursed and moaned in response, the sound of you nearly making him lose himself and cum before you. He kept his pace pounding into you, each firm fuck lighting up your tightening walls and bouncing through your swollen folds and thighs to drum on your clit. Your head was swimming; despite your fast and canting breaths, you felt like you couldn't breathe, the air escaping you with each thrust beating a needy moan from your open mouth. The burn for oxygen only added to the tightly wound pleasure gripping you from throat to cunt, clawing tightest from your hips in, held steady between his sturdy hands. 

Your toes and fingers tingled numbly in anticipation and shook just like the rest of you. Instinct tilted your hips just a degree higher, letting the tip of his dick tap just so against your cervix, ramping the overwhelming build even higher than you thought possible. Your moans yelped out sharper and higher amid sobs of “don’t stop, don’t stop, pleeeeease”, making Beckman groan and curse in his own mind-numbing arousal and frantic fight not to cum first.

A few more thrusts blazing across your cunt and shaking deep in your gut had the tension finally burst. You felt it first in the shot of electricity from your clit down to your toes and up to your buzzing head, before the tight pulse of your muscles took over everything. You writhed and shook against Beckman as he held you like a lifeline, trying desperately to fuck you through every second of heaven you could feel instead of following you over the edge. Each jerk and clench of your body gave you more and more bliss, the squeeze of you so tight and sure that it felt like there was only room for Beckman’s large cock in your body. 

He couldn’t manage to pull even an inch out of your cunt, too weak to deny himself the bliss of feeling you cum, so he guided you through with shallow but heavy thrusts. Each tap on your cervix swelled you more and more until you weren’t sure if you had already cum or there was something else building on the other side of this endless screaming song in your nerves. Your answer came with the feeling of a snap that switched your cunt from long pulses into frantic milking down on Beckman’s jolting cock. Each squeeze was powerful enough to cause a full jerk and shudder of your hips, having you slip and grind in Beckman’s clawing hold on your hips.

“Fuck, darlin’, sweetheart, fu-uuuck, you’re too good, too much -ngah!- so goddamn perfect,” Beckman moaned out a stream of mindless praises while he shoved his forehead into the side of your neck, your only anchor in the torrent of sensation ripping through your body. After an eternity, your muscles and nerves began to relax, leaving your body feeling limp and heavy in the wake of your pleasure. You were positive nothing worked anymore except for your clit and cunt, both still drooling and twitching over Beckman’s shallow thrusts. You were thankful your closed legs kept the attention from overstimulating you fully. Beckam felt your body relax, getting an addicting sense of pride from fucking you into a limp puddle, and finally took to chasing his own pleasure.

“Need to see you,” he gasped, flipping you around and desperately pressing his twitching cock back into you. He shuddered at the relief, feeling ravenous and untethered every second he couldn’t be inside you. All his sanity was now held in the taste of your skin, the pleasure in your voice, and the sweet clench of your plush cunt. Pressing your foreheads together, he made it impossible to look anywhere but at each other. Even in the low light that managed to sneak between the buildings with you, Beckman’s silver eyes glowed while taking you in. The color looked sharper pressed thin by his lust-blown pupils and you were hypnotized as his gaze swallowed you whole. 

Seeing the needy scrunch of his brows and the way he switched back and forth between clenching his jaw and hanging his mouth open to moan freely sent fresh sparks straight down to your clit. Having your legs spread around him had his racing thrusts teetering you on the edge of overstimulation, but it was well worth the sight and feeling of him rabidly chasing down his pleasure in your cunt. He was mindless and rutting in his need, enjoying your sopping heat contrasting with your nails scrabbling for purchase on his broad shoulders. The hug of your thighs around his waist kept him close and added to the wondrously tight clench of you that seemed to spread over his whole body. He was so, so close he just needed one little nudge.

“Beckman, please, need you -hahhn- need you to cum in me,” you begged, tone broken from all your moaning.

He was kicked right over the edge, barking out a deep “fuck” at the power of the orgasm shredding through him. He jerked his lips down to yours, holding you in an open mouthed kiss full of tongue and teeth and groans. He shoved himself as close as he could get to you, trapping you near painfully tight against the stone wall with his pressing bulk, demanding lips, and throbbing cock. His dick jumped hard with each pump of hot sticky cum deep in your cunt. It warmed you inside out and mixed with the heady knowledge that you’d completely unraveled this imposing man to unexpectedly drag you into a milder orgasm of your own. Each heavy jerk of him helped guide you through your own bliss, bodies working in perfect synch to have every pump answered with a coaxing squeeze. It kept you both suspended in your mindless heaven until you’d wrung every bit of pleasure from each other that your bodies could possibly give. 

Beckman was certain that you’d sucked his very soul from him if the numb and clumsy feeling of his body was anything to go by. It wasn’t ready to listen to him, acting like it belonged to someone else and he supposed that was true; it was yours now. You’d held his heart a long time and his mind even longer, so it was only fitting that you owned his body too. 

You didn’t seem to be doing much better with being in charge of your body, eyes half-lidded and lashes fluttering against the need to close. You were a vision - your foggy and affectionate gaze glued to him from under dark lashes, the flush tinting your sweat-damp skin, your lips parted and kiss-swollen, hair a wild crown around your head, decorating your face with stray strands. He studied and admired the image of you fucked-out and languid with eagerness and reverence. You were doing much the same, enjoying his mussed silver waves of soft locks, his gently shining eyes, the hints of red on the apples of his cheeks and his chest, the heavy rise and fall of his sculpted shoulders as he tried to catch his breath.

The sound of a drinking song spiking high in volume snuck through the wall and shattered your illusion of privacy. You were both suddenly back against the side of the bar instead of whatever pocket world you had carved out for just yourselves. Beckman continued to hold you steady as he slowly let your tired legs down, your skirt following after to hang back in place. Your legs shook under you like it was your first time standing and you laughed at their clumsiness. Beckman cracked a loving smile at you, stealing your breath and halting your chuckles. Again the melody within the bar seeped out to you clearly and you laughed even louder this time when you recognized one of Shanks’ favorite tunes. While he tucked himself away, Beckman raised a brow at your cackling until he recognized the song too and added his own gentle laughter to yours.

Looking him straight in the eyes, you fought to sing along properly through your bubbling giggles.

“I took that lass and smacked her ass

Said darlin you’re comin’ with me”

He took your hips and pulled you to him, guiding you in the closest to a swaying dance that your uncooperative legs would allow. He quietly joined you on the next lines, treating you to the deep and raspy parts of his voice that lived in his chest.

“Ain’t got a hall but we’ll use the wall

Just give me an hour or three”

“What do you say, darlin’?” Beckman asked with humor dancing in the light reflections in his eyes. There was a seriousness underlying his tone in his next question, however. “Willing to give me a few more hours?”

You gave him a sweet smile but turned it coy, your attitude sneaking back as your mind stabilized. “You’ve got one to convince me to keep you.”

Beckman huffed out a laugh at your bite coming back and leaned down to kiss your forehead affectionately. He took a moment to rest his cheek atop your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, delicately tinged with a touch of sweat and sex. It had him shiver and start to twitch back to life. Slowly, he trailed kisses from the top of your head to the tip of your ear. His warm breath made you shiver and begin to heat again as well.

“Sweet darlin’,” Beckman mumbled, lips tickling the rim of your ear, “I’ll have you back to begging for me in half the time. Gotta show you that I don’t just know how to fuck; I can worship.”

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑 𖥔

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; eddie needs you and he needs you now.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; eddie munson × girlfriend!reader, nsfw, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, kinda public but not really, fingering. let me know if i forgot anything.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 2.2k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; no notes. just eddie. repost from my old acc x

when it came to you, eddie was needy – much like you were with him.  

it didn’t take a whole lot to set you off, and the second that something stirred in the pit of your stomachs, you needed the other to relieve it. you craved eddie’s touch just as much as he craves yours, so much so that you had almost created your own language for when you needed attention.  

eddie knew what it meant the second your bottom lip would jut forward slightly, big puppy dog eyes staring back at him and he would have to pretend like he wasn’t already imagining himself being buried deep inside you. that he wasn’t thinking about the way you looked down on your knees or with your skirt hitched up, ready for him to devour you.  

sometimes you would be in the most inconvenient of places and feel his hand firmly grasp your ass, or slip under your shirt, and his lips would immediately be drawn to your neck. it was his way of telling you that he was in the mood.

though, you wouldn’t give in to him all the time, and mostly you enjoyed watching him squirm as you tell him just how badly you were needing him, showing him a little more skin or subtly flashing him, and movie night with steve and robin was no exception to this.  

it took all but two seconds of eddie seeing the glint in your eye as you entered his trailer for him to know that he was already a goner. even more so when you waste no time in pressing your lips to his, your body leaning into him and almost knocking him off his feet. had steve and robin not already been there, you would’ve dragged him to his room before he could say a word.  

“well, hello to you too,” his words are muffled against the fruity softness of your lips and he kicks the door shut behind you. his hands reach to caress either side of your head, and he pulls away only long enough to smile at you, lips quirking up at the corners, “how’s my girl?” 

you draw in your bottom lip, attention wavering to steve and robin sitting on the floor not far behind him as they try to throw popcorn into the other’s mouth, “let’s just say... i don’t think i can wait an entire movie for us to be alone.” 

you hadn't seen eddie for a couple of days and the heat between your legs was only growing with every second that he wasn’t inside you. the moisture had started to gather just from the mere sight of him and it wouldn’t be long until it became unbearable.  

a sharp breath is all that leaves him, and he leans forward, “does the castle need conquering?” 

“the castle is seconds away from falling to shambles,” you pull him even closer, pressing another kiss to his lips. 

a thoughtful expression etches itself on eddie’s face, the gears turning in his head, and it takes every ounce of self-control for him not to come up with some excuse to get rid of steve and robin. but he couldn’t do that – no – they had been talking for weeks about how excited they were to watch the new scary movie that had come into the store.  

“okay, lovebirds, get a room,” robin sneers, curling her upper lip with disgust at you both. “or better yet, let’s start the movie.” 

eddie offers you his hand, a roguish grin on his face, but before he can pull you toward the sofa, you lean in close and whisper, “just so you know, i'm not wearing any underwear.” 

“holy fuck,” he exhales, eyes blown wide as his mind is instantly flooded with the idea of you wearing nothing underneath your skirt – taunting him to know that he had such easy access to your sweet spot and all he had to do was take it.  

for almost an hour, he tries to deflect his attention, tries to think of anything else, but even after steve had put the movie on and robin had turned off the lights, all he could think about was you and the way you felt wrapped around him.  

he sits on the end of the sofa with you leaning into him, your head perched just beneath his chin and a thin blanket you had stolen from his room covering your body. steve and robin had opted to sit on the floor, the two of them practically inseparable as their eyes remain trained on the screen. you weren’t even entirely sure what was happening in the movie, other than some guy running around with a mask trying to kill people, because, like eddie, you couldn’t stop thinking about him either.  

then, as if he had read your mind, his hand that had been wrapped around you, resting across your chest, slowly inches beneath the blanket to slip under your shirt, cupping your breast. you exhale, making sure steve and robin wouldn’t notice, before looking up at eddie as he adorns a devilish grin now.  

“apparently your underwear wasn’t the only thing you forget to wear tonight,” he whispers into your ear, referring to your lack of a bra, at the same time his thumb rolls over your nipple until its taunt. “just be quiet for me, okay?” 

you nod rapidly, already desperate and aching for him, and he slowly starts to inch his hand further down your body. you quietly spread your legs open enough for his hand to fit between your thighs without drawing any attention to yourself, making it seem like you were just getting comfortable.  

with steady movements, his fingers trail down to the band of your skirt, grasping at the thin material and pulling it up your thighs without trying to move the blanket. you stare up at him through your lashes, brows arching with anticipation, waiting for him to finally touch your sweet spot, when robin pops up from the floor to press pause on the movie. 

you had never seen eddie move as fast as he does to remove his hand from your core, thankfully going unnoticed as your chest races from the adrenaline. he presses his lips to the back of your head, though you know he’s just trying to cover up his laughter from almost getting caught.  

“do you guys wanna order the pizza now?” robin asks, unbeknownst to what had been going on right under their noses.  

steve is the first to nod, his hair flopping as he does, “i could go for pizza.” 

“yeah, we could – we could go for pizza,” you say, breathless and shaky as you do causing eddie to chuckle from behind you.  

robin takes it upon herself to call up the restaurant and place the order for delivery while eddie jumps up with a stiffness to his steps that only you seemed to pick up on, “the pizza is on me, just let me find my wallet.” 

he heads to his room, leaving you alone and vulnerable as you try to pull your skirt back down without making it obvious, ultimately pretending you were just fixing the blanket. though, the attention is diverted when eddie returns seconds later with empty hands.  

“i can’t find my wallet. you haven’t seen it, have you?” he makes haste of searching around the coffee table and couch for it but to no avail, even robin and steve join in the search, neither of them wanting to pay for the pizza if they didn’t have to.  

“did you check your room properly? you’re always losing stuff in there,” you shake your head, knowing that the likeliness of him losing it amongst his clothes and dnd stuff was far more likely than you cared to admit. he nods, sheepishly, lifting his shoulders into a shrug, and an exasperated sigh leaves your lips, “you two keep searching, we’ll be right back. c’mon dumb dumb, we’re gonna search your room.” 

grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you pull eddie back to his room, where everything looked normal and unturned. as if he hadn’t even bothered to look for his wallet. and that’s when you see it... his wallet... sitting on his dresser as clear as day. it’s then that you realize it was all just a ploy to get you alone and it worked.  

turning to eddie, you see that he’s already closed the door, a proud smirk plastered on his lips as he traipses across the room to meet you, “we have about three minutes before they start to wonder what’s taking us so long.” 

“then stop wasting time,” you raise a curious brow as he slowly lifts you onto the dresser. his lips barely an inch away from your own.  

he immediately takes your lips in a heated kiss, breathy and full of want, as his hands run along your body. one of yours gets tangled in his curls as the other glides down his torso and between his legs, much to his surprise. your hand is greeted with an aching erection.  

the touch causes him to jut and he moans against your lips as your fingers begin to get to work, grasping and caressing his dick. his breathing is uneven, hot, and heavy against your face. his hands are quick to assist in unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down for his length to spring up, hitting you where you needed him the most.  

your fingers begin to grow sticky the wetter his tip gets from your touch, and you steal a glance from him. his jaw is tensed, eyes almost closed, hazy with desire, and he groans your name lowly. he connects his lips with your neck, biting, sucking down on your skin, as he hitches your skirt up to reveal your cunt. so pretty and moist – just the way he liked it.  

wrapping your legs around him, prompting him to line himself up against you, he slowly glides himself up and down before entering your needy little hole. you can’t help but gasp at his thickness and it gets harder and harder to control your breathing when he’s working you open, his teeth leaving marks of sweet pain over your tender skin.  

deciding that he’s moving too slowly, you clasp your thighs harder around him, pushing him to fill you entirely. you have to throw your head into his neck to stop yourself from crying out, teeth clamping down on his skin while he waits a beat for you to adjust to his considerable size. and then he starts to move, slowly growing faster. his pace is rough and reckless – someone missed you.  

you know you don’t have time to savor the pleasure, you needed to get to work before steve or robin came barging in. you start to push back against his rhythm, squeezing him until you feel his legs start to give way. he’s close.  

his thrusts are fast, hard, making your body shake. he’s giving you all he’s got. 

“y/n... you first... cum for me,” he whispers in your ear.  

it only takes two more thrust for a wave of warmth to shower over you as he keeps pounding you through your orgasm. his arms tighten around you as his hips gyrate, pushing himself as deep as he can before filling your hole with his secretion.  

“fuck, eds,” you cry out, though it’s muffled by his hand as he slowly pulls out of you, watching as his liquids spill from you and into a puddle on the dresser.  

gently he helps clean you up and step back on the floor, pulling a pair of sweatpants from his drawer. kissing your trembling thighs, he removes your skirt and helps you slip on the pants.  

“we should probably get back,” he snickers, offering you his hand and grabbing his wallet with the other.  

as you exit the room, robin and steve seemed to have given up the search for eddie’s missing wallet. both of them laying on the floor throwing a ball to one another.  

“did you find it?” steve asks as the two of you approach, and you snatch it from eddie’s hand to show that you did.  

“i told him he just wasn’t looking well enough. found it in his dresser,” you faux roll your eyes and return to your seat on the couch with eddie.  

robin eyes you up and down, “i take it you also found them in his dresser.” she points to the grey sweatpants you now adorned. 

you open your mouth to answer at the same time the doorbell rings, saving you from the question. eddie simply tosses his wallet to steve and he and robin answer the door. when you look back to eddie, he has an all too familiar look in his eyes and you know that your night is far from over.  

[highhhfiveee]

can I request mike, reader, and Abby going to the beach :p!?

[i'm combining this with another ask! they requested the same setting, but with a scenario!]

wc: 3k tags: sweetgf!reader + dickheadbf!mike, light smut (oral [deepthroating and come swallowing], m!receiving), mostly fluff and being grateful for life and the people who you live it with [: proofread but maybe there are still errors! kill me, i'm human! a/n: i wish i could go to the beach so bad!! i fucking love the summer and it's damn near the dead of winter where i live ],: i also get cold so easily and i can't take freezing every morning lmao

i am imagining:

you and mike are sitting on the couch on a late friday morning, hypnotized by daytime television after a big, indulgent breakfast and chats about mike's shift. abby had retreated to the adjacent loveseat, fast asleep with a stomach full of pancakes and eggs.

"it's so hotttt," mike grumbles, stretching his sweaty body out like a starfish. the limbs on his right side invade your space, leaving you to shrink into the couch with a groan.

"yeah, mike, too hot for you to be doing that. stoppp," you return his irritated tone, bringing your hands up to push into him. it was the hottest day of the summer so far, and it wasn't like you weren't also feeling the elements. not even the AC unit turned to full blast could cool the living room, and it made every breath feel thick and labored.

mike stands from his spot on the couch, dramatically dragging his body over to the kitchen. you watch as he yanks the freezer door open with impatience, craning his head into the crystalized cool and saying, "it's too hot to be living."

you turn your body to extend across the whole sofa, thankful that your hair is up and out of your face so you're able to feel the tickle of a breeze on the nape of your neck. you bite at your bottom lip as the gears of your brain churn through a heat-induced fog, thinking of how to keep cool at a time like this.

abby stirs then, stretching and yawning and squealing, "it was hot in my dream too." you turn your head to her, pursing your lips to the side in disappointment.

"aw, abs, i'm sorry. that sucks."

"i was at the beach though, which i think makes up for it---"

"omg, the beach! we should go!" you cheer, but mike shuts you down once he hears abby wholeheartedly agree.

"uh, the closest beach is six hours away."

"well, maybe we can make a weekend out of it," you suggest, motioning for abby to come sit with you. she delicately settles on your thighs, relaxing into the couch and swinging her legs over the edge.

"yeah, with what money?"

"i can dip into my savings a little bit, at least for the hotel and gas," you offer, and mike is shutting you down again, shaking his head as he cranes it towards you and humming "nuh uh"s.

"c'mon mike, i don't mind! listen, i want to do this for us," you're hugging abby into you, pressing your cheeks together and telepathically communicating for her to help you convince mike with her own set of puppy dog eyes. "we'll leave in the evening so you can get some rest, and we can split the drive."

"abby doesn't have a license."

your face scrunches as you confusedly mutter, "why would you include your eleven year old sister in a 'we' of that context?" as abby states, "you're weird, mike." in the same tone.

"i know, my joke didn't land, i guess," mike sighs, letting his head drop between his shoulders as he closes the freezer door. the sound of suction punctuates his action, and he turns to you and abby with a grimace before saying, "three hours behind a steering wheel just doesn't seem appealing. two would be a hell of a lot more digestible."

"oh my god, mike, you're so pitiful," you playfully chide, crossing your arms over your chest. "i promise that you'll survive, grumpy. tell you what, i'll drive four hours so you'll only have to drive two."

the sweet drawl of your voice and trivial suggestion to take on more work is all it takes for mike to fold and drive all six hours.

he doesn't do it with a smile, but you're still grateful for his sacrifice, cupping his face and kissing his cheek as he drives into the sizzling orange pulse of the sunset. "i love youuuu," you sing, and he grumbles for like the millionth time that day as you ignore him and muse, "and abby loves you, and we're gonna have so much fun on our beach weekend!!"

you and abby begin to whoop and cheer and dance in your seats, chanting, "beachbeachbeach!", and you pretend not to notice the slight smirk that cracks the perpetual stiffness of mike's mouth.

you spend the first half of the trip singing along to an old CD abby had burned sometime ago--"you always have to keep a road trip mix on hand"--, playing various word association games, and sucking fluorescent orange dust from your fingers after you chuck a cheeto into mike's mouth and pass the bag back to abby.

the second half is stiller; abby has fallen asleep again, soothed by the motions of the car, and you're staring at mike's side profile as he drives. he's so tired; it's painted in his eyes and over his body, with the way he slumps into the driver's seat and focuses on the road like nothing else is around him.

he catches your gaze after a bit, breaking himself away from his trance. he switches hands on the wheel so he's able to clutch your thigh, gently kneading at your skin, and with a small grin, asks, "got a nice view?"

"yeah, but it seems the view isn't feeling so nice," you raise your hand to his shoulder, your turn to massage into him. he's so tense under your touch, and you watch his eyes flicker with your words, training back on the four lane highway ahead. "i think this will be nice for us. we all deserve a nice vacation; especially you, mikey. you've been working hard, and i know you're tired."

"yeah," mike breathes softly, the gentlest you think he's been all day. "i'm sorry about the way i was acting about the drive. i just couldn't think straight after my shift, your delicious breakfast, and sitting in the heat."

"i understand. three hours of driving isn't fun, but that's why i offered to take more of the load after you made that...bad joke."

"so now it's just categorically bad?" mike pouts with comical sorrow, and you giggle at him, nudging at his shoulder with soft pressure.

"yes, because why was she included in we? obviously abby can't drive."

"it was supposed to be one of my sillies,"

"you're just usually better at them," you argue, and it sends the both of you into a laughing fit that gives you a stomach cramp, mike affirming, "yeah, yeah, you're right, you're right. shit, are you okay?" as you try to calm down.

after relaxing back into a comfortable silence, you're bringing mike's hand to your lips, kissing at his knuckles when he blurts, "thank you for putting up with me, and for paying for stuff so short notice."

"oh hush. i love you, mike. truly. we take care of each other, don't we?" you squeeze his hand as you continue, placing it over your heart. "there hasn't been a second i've been with you where i haven't felt supported, and now it's my turn to support you. plus, this is like abby's first real vacation. i want her to have the best time too. we don't have any money when we're dead, so we might as well say we had experiences, yeah?"

"i love you. you're an angel on earth," mike hums lovingly as he pulls off of an exit, able to relax his head against the headrest and leer at you once he brakes at a red light. "our angel on earth." you writhe under his enamored stare, blushing and gnawing on your bottom lip with an airy giggle, and later, after you've gotten to your hotel and tucked abby into bed, you're back in the car doing that same giggle with his dick lodged in your throat.

"my angel on earth," he repeats as he folds his fingers into your hair so he can pull on it, maintaining eye contact while you sloppily guide yourself on him. his toes curl and his thigh muscles spasm, and he's panting down on your face as his other hand grabs his steering wheel in a white hot grip. "fuck, baby."

you're grateful that you were able to book a room facing outwards on the first floor of the hotel; you could be disgusting with mike in the car while ensuring abby's safety through the front windshield.

it helped solidify that there were no worries in your orbit; everything here was perfect, and you feed that passion into taking mike deeper, holding his gaze even as a tear runs down your cheek after an obscene gag that resonates through the whole car.

you swallow around him as you reach down to caress his balls, and crack a triumphant smile when he tenses, brokenly whimpering and bucking his hips into your face with sinful desperation. he doesn't stop as he shoots his come into your mouth, using the hand in your head to tilt your head back so the overflow doesn't choke you.

you moan as you taste him on your tongue, drinking it down while you flash mike the watery, filthy twinkle in your eyes. he thinks that it extends his orgasm, his balls tightening with another spray of white down your throat.

though his body burns with fatigue, mike brings his thumb to the corner of your lips to collect a spilt remnant of himself, pushing it into your mouth where he feels the warm plushiness of your tongue wrap around his digit. "god, i think you're gonna kill me one day. this mouth is deadly."

"one day, yes, but not today or saturday or sunday. not while we're on vacation."

you both retire to the room after, two immovable stone statues in bed until 7 am, when you're both ripped from your sleep by abby's noisy movements. she's enthusiastically throwing the curtains open, drowning you two in painfully bright sunlight and skipping over to hop on the bed, narrowly missing your shins and knees with her uncoordinated steps.

"abby, abby, abby," mike drones groggily, reaching out for her ankles.

you blearily watch as she snatches it out of his reach, and you can't help but laugh as you two make eye contact. "come on!! we're on vacation!! we've gotta start vacationing now!!"

"we don't have to start at...seven twenty-two in the morning," mike complains, wiping at his eyes after throwing his gaze to the alarm clock. "maybe we can do...ten."

"ten is way too late! if we eat now, we can wait it out and then go to the beach and stay all day! pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease--" you wrangle abby into your arms, squeezing her close to your body in an attempt to quiet her.

you smooth her hair down, tucking it behind her ears as you whisper, "hey, hey, how about we go get breakfast and meet mike a little later, okay? we can go in our pjs and everything," abby's eyes light up at your plan, and she's nodding excitedly, pulling on your wrist in order to wrench you from the warm bed. "let's go now then!"

"let me brush my teeth first, sweet thing, at least."

after another generous breakfast, two cat naps, and endless searching through bags marked with the sharp zztt zztt zztt of zippers, you, mike, and abby are established in the warm sand of a southern beach; it'd been a bit of a hassle to put the umbrella up, with its complicated, ancient instructions, but your tired muscles and mind are extraordinarily grateful for the effort as you lounge in your chair, leaning your head back into a neck pillow and scanning your eyes over your science fiction read.

after a bit, you stick your bookmark into the crease of your pages and remove your sunglasses from your face so you're able to get a clearer view of abby and mike along the shoreline.

they're laughing together, running back and forth and taunting the tide as it crashes against the sand in a white foam. "you can't let the tide get you, abby! the sea monsters will take you whole!" you chuckle as mike sweeps her up in his arms, swinging her over the water as he treads deeper.

you set your book down and travel towards the tide, picking up more of their conversation over the soft wind.

"wait, what---what---oh no, the sea monsters are speaking to me. they're saying...i have to give you up." mike shakes his head in faux despair, beginning to fake cry as abby yelps in his arms. "they say they've been looking for an eleven year old girl named abby for their mission!" he continues swinging her, pretending to dunk her in some moments and keeping her away from the water in others, claiming, "no, i won't let them have you!"

you place your hands on your hips, raising your eyebrow in preparation to play along as they make their way back to land. "everything okay over here? i heard something about...'sea monsters'."

"the sea monsters have mastered mind control," abby matter-of-factly explains, wiggling from mike's grasp and curling her toes back into the wet sand during her impromptu intermission. "they specifically need an eleven year old abby, but mike is such a great brother that he wouldn't dare give me up."

"wouldn't do it for all the money in the world," mike affirms with a smile and finger wag pointed to the sky. after a moment, he winces and squeezes his eyes tightly in pain, rubbing at his temples with two fingertips. "they're still in my head though. it's taking all my willpower to fight against them."

you nod at the both of them, an oddly fascinated smile etched onto your face. "well maybe you two can take them down and make them reform. ask them why they need children for their mission in the first place."

"well they don't always, do they, abs?" abby shakes her head as mike reaches out for you, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "in fact...they're asking for...you now."

you widen your eyes, playing up your shock with a hand to the heart. "oh jeez. well, thank god it's an adult this time. what would the world be without abby?"

"what would the world be like without me? you ask great questions, y/n. that's why i love you."

"i love you more, abs. i'm not letting them get you either," you reply, running your hand over the crown of her damp head with an affectionate grin as you feel mike sneakily wrap his arms around your waist, pressing you into him. "mike, wh--"

"the sea monsters have spoken. they want you!" you're off your feet before you can even finish your screech, flying towards the cresting waves. one moment, mike had you in his arms, trudging into deeper surf, and the next, you're shrouded in icy ocean water, the salt stinging your eyes and coating your unexpectant tongue in a disgusting layer of minerals.

mike's laughing as he slowly makes his way to the sand, his back facing the shore while he waits for you to come to the surface. he's beside abby when you finally rise, the joy dropping from both of their demeanors when they take you in.

your staunch displeasure could be seen from football fields away and it makes abby mischievously gulp, "uh oh" as you irritably trek through the water, stopping when it reaches your mid-thigh.

you're like a goddess, appearing from the ocean in your simple black bikini, water droplets beading over the exposed parts of your smooth bronze skin, and it's all mike wants to make you feel like in order to atone for his obvious mistake. he wants to throw you into his arms and apologize profusely and plant kisses all over your body and ask you what he can do to make it right; he'll do anything if it means he won't see you with crossed arms and a deep scowl.

your attitude has mike sprinting over, almost face planting as his feet slip in the waterlogged sand. his eyes are overwhelmingly remorseful, and he begins to spew sentiment as he grabs for you.

"i'm so sorry baby, are you okay? are you hurt?" his voice cracks as he examines you thoroughly, grazing his hands over your face and body. you nearly give up your act at his attentiveness, but you maintain, rolling your eyes at him. he deflates at that, whimpering, "fuck, i'm sorry. i'm so sorry. i should've asked before i did that, i-i-i just thought since you were playing along that maybe it'd be okay...." mike's ramble trails off as he focuses on you stepping back into deeper water, and even more terrifyingly, your continued silence. "baby, hey, hey. are you okay?"

he follows you closely, and it's a foolish mistake on his own part; his consideration leaves him vulnerable, and you're able to ram your small frame into his torso, wrapping your own arms around his waist and tackling him into the chilly water. he goes down with a yell and comes up soon after with a cough and a smile, shaking the saltwater from his hair.

he wipes at his eyes as he reorients himself, rasping, "oh, i see. you were just getting back at me, being all cold and shit."

you watch him with your lips pursed amusedly, traversing around his recovering form so that you have an unobstructed escape route. "you gave me to the sea monsters, mike. i couldn't not get revenge."

"yeah, well, now this sea monster's gonna get you!" you noisily squeal as you run with high knees all the way to abby, who jumps and cheers for you back at the dry shore. "don't let them get you, y/n!"

"i won't!" you scream back, your words broken up with chuckles as you try your best to escape mike's aquatic nefariousness. you've made it out of the water, pulling abby into a wet embrace when mike clammers into the two of you, sending you all down to the lush sand.

it sticks to your skin as you belly-laugh with abby under mike's weight, feeling his heart pump through his ribs with adrenaline, and you can't help but think about how memorable this time will be for all of you.

mike and abby would be your family forever, and moments like this cemented that.

cute beach time!!! i love sweetgf and dickheadbf, they warm my heart.

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf-@jun1p3rlol-@xyzstar-@aquamarine001-@atrociouslybear-@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

[babydollmarauders]

CANDY CANE KISSES — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which Trevor has a unique use for all the candy canes y/n buys

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, nipple play, food play, p in v (unprotected), i think that’s all? (3.2k words)

notes: welcome to day 2 of the 12 days of kinkmas! this was my first time writing smut for trevor and i won’t lie; it was hard!

“this is getting out of hand.”

my eyes fly up to the kitchen entrance, Trevor’s tall frame looming in the doorway. his golden brown hair is tousled as though he’s just woken up, yet i know he’s been awake for hours.

“i didn’t think you were home yet.” i murmur, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, and my fiancé chuckles as he steps fully into the kitchen.

“i’ve been home for an hour, i was about to call and ask where you were-” his eyes flicker to the shopping bag that rests on the counter before he looks back at me with a raised brow. “but i guess now i know.”

i externally cringe, my mind racing as i try and come up with an excuse.

“i- okay- hear me out!” my hand floats in the air in front of my chest, in attempt to keep him from chastising me.

“oh, i’d love to hear this excuse.” Trevor smirks, sidling over to lean back against the counter. his hands grip the countertop behind him and for a moment my eyes linger there, tracing the veins that lead up to his tattooed arm, until i regain consciousness and remember what i was doing.

“they were buy one get one free! and there’s so many different flavors!”

Trevor’s head tips back, chin towards the ceiling as he lets out a groan.

“baby, you have ten boxes of candy canes in our cupboards!” he states, hand flying up as though to dramatically display our kitchen cupboards.

“twelve.” i mumble, my voice low as i stare at the ground.

“twelve?!” he steps forward, arms winding around my waist as he blocks my view of our tile floor. “look at me, please.”

his soft tone draws my head up, looking into his blue eyes as i exaggerate a pout.

“no more candy canes.” he emphasizes each word, “please!”

i nod solemnly before resting my chin on his chest, giving him the best puppy dog eyes i can muster.

“how many boxes did you buy today?” Trevor questions, bowing his head down to drop his forehead to mine.

“four.” i whisper, the lower half of my face rising to chase his lips. my nose accidentally brushes against his and he repeats the action with intent.

“that’s too many, babe.” he urges, “no more.”

my lips part but i get no word out before he reads my mind, answering my question.

“not even after christmas when they’re discounted.”

i huff in exaggerated disappointment, stepping away from my fiancé to pull the boxes of hard candy from the grocery bag on the granite countertop.

i’m mostly silent as i do so, except for the hyperbolic sigh that passes my lips, my sight flickering to Trevor every few seconds. he bites back a grin, hopping up to sit on the counter across from me before he speaks.

“alright,” he drags out, clicking his tongue against his teeth before he adds- “what flavors did ya get?”

i perk up, the corners of my lips quirking up.

“i got warhead, jolly rancher, sour patch kid, and mint chocolate!” i sing out, holding up each one as i tell him.

“they sound delicious, babe.”

i internally cheer at his approval as i open the candy cupboard, stuffing the four boxes anywhere i can fit them. i take a mental note of the few missing candy canes from a box of original peppermint flavor, taking pride in knowing Trevor has at least indulged in a couple of my holiday obsession.

“can we watch a movie?” i ask, pushing the cupboard closed while i spin around to face my fiancé.

“is it a christmas movie?”

“yes…”

“is it a hallmark movie?” he inquires cautiously, eyes narrowed towards me.

“it doesn’t have to be.” i shrug, shoving the plastic grocery bag under the sink with the others.

“then yes.”

***

Trevor’s t-shirt hangs around my body, the hem tickling my upper thigh, and fuzzy socks adorn my feet.

we ate dinner and watched two more movies before calling it a night, and now i stand at our bathroom counter washing my face and waiting for my fiancé to come upstairs.

i can hear his footsteps entering on the tile floor of our bathroom as i cup my hands under the faucet, filling them with water and washing the cleanser from my face.

i’m drying my face when his arms encircle my waist, his chin coming down to rest on my shoulder.

“hi, beautiful.” his voice is gruff and i can sense a hint of lust that makes me chuckle.

“hi, baby.” i set the towel back down on the counter, opening my eyes to our reflections staring back at me.

meeting his eyes in the mirror, my hands come down to rub soothingly along his arms. his grip relaxes, loosening around me for a moment before spinning me in his arms.

the small of my back hits against the counter, his hands smacking onto it on either side of me, caging me in.

“whatcha doing?” i giggle. my own hands find his chest, smoothing up to lock around the back of his neck.

“looking at my gorgeous future wife.” his response makes me hum, his face lowering towards mine before he speaks again, this time lower, “thinking about how much i wanna fuck her right here in front of this mirror. how sexy she would look; watching as i make her come on my cock.”

his words ignite a pulse between my legs, my breathing picking up just slightly.

“oh yeah?” i bite my lip, angling my hips to press against his.

“mhm.” he hums, bending down just a bit more so his lips brush against mine, and my heart skips a beat in excitement. “but, that’ll have to happen another time.”

my mood deflates as he steps away, backing away towards the doorway to our bedroom.

“oh.” my shoulders sag, my lips flattening into a straight line, and i watch him stop at the doorway.

“well, c’mon.” he urges, crooking his finger at me. “i have plans for you.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk and i bite back a giddy smile as i follow him into our bedroom. his hands reach out to pull at my hips, his fingers digging into my skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, and he doesn’t stop until i’m flush against him.

“i had an idea-”

“oh that’s never good.” he rolls his eyes at my interruption, but a smile still tugs at his lips.

“shh, i think you’ll like it.”

his lips meet mine, our noses bumping in the movement, and my lips instinctively part, making way for his tongue to dart into my mouth and tangle with my own.

one hand sliding up to curl around and rest at the base of my neck, he groans when mine give a light tug to his locks. his hips jerk against mine, coaxing a hushed moan from deep within my throat and into his mouth.

he pulls away, looking into my eyes, his own darkened with lust, before he turns and walks away, leaving me breathless and needy.

“what-” i’m cut off with a hurried shush, my lips almost unconsciously falling shut.

“naked and on the bed.” his broken sentence echoes through my mind once, twice, three times before i register his command. making quick work as he walks out of the bedroom.

my fuzzy socks are easily slipped off my feet, panties dragged down my thighs, before finally, i pull the oversized t-shirt over my head, letting the various fabrics mingle together in a pile on the floor.

my movements are clumsy and hastened as i clamber onto the bed, sitting pretty on my knees atop the mattress.

Trevor returns with a cup in his hands, piquing my interest, but when i begin to rise in order to see over the top of the cup, i���m shut down by a single lifted eyebrow.

i heave out a sigh, falling back down to the mattress with a dejected pout.

“thought of a way to put your new fixation to use.” he hums, setting the cup on the nightstand, and it’s then that i spot what’s inside.

the cup is filled with ice, and nestled just inside, buried within the ice, is a single unwrapped peppermint candy cane.

“i’m confused.” i voice, brows furrowed.

“just sit down and close your eyes.”

i do as he says, shifting so my legs hang off the edge of the mattress, my ass now sitting on the blanket. closing my eyes, i lean back on my hands, full trust in the man that i’ll be vowing forever to in just a few short months.

time ticks idly by with nothing happening, and i’m almost beginning to wonder if Trevor has left me alone when i finally feel his hot breath hovering over my nipple.

shivers erupt through my body, goosebumps littering my flesh in their wake, and my head falls back as his lips close around the stiffened bud. his tongue swirls around it, eliciting a choked sound from my lips, and i can feel him smirk against my breast.

he pulls back, sucking my nipple with him between his lips before letting it go with a pop, and my hips involuntarily jerk on the bed at his retreat, a whimper echoing in the silence.

i’m rewarded with a gentle shush, simultaneously combined with an icy cold substance being dragged around my nipple. my back arches, breasts pushed forward as i gasp.

my eyes fly open, darting down to find the source of the chill and discovering my fiancé on his knees, the previously ice-bound candy cane in his grasp, leaving a cold sticky trail along my nipple.

“T-Trevor.” i stutter out. his eyes flick up to mine, a smirk resting on his lips as he pulls the candy cane away, replacing it with his open mouth.

i curse, my arms shaking behind me as my eyes roll back. his tongue explores every detail of the hard peak in his mouth, suckling as his free hand finds my other breast, roughly pinching the nipple, before trailing the cold candy cane around that one.

my hips grind against mattress with every flick of his tongue, and when he switches his heated mouth to the other breast, he moans against it, the vibrations against my nipple causing a full body jerk.

“Trevor, please.” i plead. for what? i’m unsure, but he seems to know; he pulls back, rolling my nipple between his lips before letting it go.

his hand comes to rest on my sternum, slowly pushing me until my back lays against the soft bedding. he swirls the candy around my breasts, stickiness coating my skin, before i can hear the clink of the candy cane being shoved back into the ice.

he rises, hovering over my body before dipping down, sucking at the sticky candy trails of his own doing.

my hips buck up against his, urging him to hold them against the mattress as he continues sucking across my chest. his lips drag along the sticky residue, his tongue darting out to lick across my nipple.

my breath catches in my throat as i can feel the early signs of my orgasm building in my stomach, but i’m left gasping for air as it fades away, Trevor’s mouth parting from my heated skin in order for him to pull the candy cane back from the ice cup.

my abdomen clenches as the candy cane makes contact, being dragged down down my stomach from my sternum. Trevor hovers above me with a mischievous smirk, taking pride in the way my body writhes underneath him.

when he finally puts the frozen candy away, his tongue drags down my body, his eyes locked into mine, glaring up at me with heated fervor.

as my body tenses under his tongue, a whimper draws from my slackened jaw, my fingers tangling into his hair and giving a harsh tug.

he groans against me, vibrations carrying over my tight muscles and sending chills down my spine, but his movement doesn’t falter; instead, he trails down even further, pressing short kisses to my hip bones and along my waistline.

“Trev-” my voice shakes, coming out in breathy quivers as he dips lower, his hot breath hitting against my dripping core.

“what do you want, baby?” his gentle pet name is an extreme contrast to the harsh tone of his voice.

“you,” i grapple with his shirt, tugging him up until his face is above mine, his nose drags up my jawline, my eyes fluttering closed, “god- i need you.”

“you’ve got me, baby.” i can practically hear his smile, the mocking lilt in his tone.

“inside me,” i clarify, my head falling back to dig deeper into the soft bedding as his soft lips attach to my neck. “i need you inside me.”

he pulls away, my eyes flying open at the sudden departure, “oh, you need my cock.”

his hands grip my hips, pulling me forward as he grinds against my core, a sharp inward gasp falling from my lips.

“you want this cock buried so deep inside that pretty pussy, don’t you?” Trevor hums, a mocking smirk resting on his lips when i whine out an agreement. “yeah, you want it so bad that you’re fucking dripping. so wet for me.”

“yes, yes,” i pant out, hips bucking up in search of his hardened bulge, “all for you.”

he snickers as he steps back, my lower body falling back against the mattress and a long complaining whine leaving me. i watch in ernest as his hands drop to the button of his jeans, undoing them and pushing them down his legs along with his boxers, putting his muscular thighs on full display. his erection springs free, nearly slapping against his clothed abdomen, and my thighs press together at the sight of his reddened tip, glistening with precum.

he grins at my reaction, his eyes zeroing in on my clenched thighs as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“open those thighs for me, pretty girl.” his hands smooth up my legs, prying them apart until they’re wide open, my cunt on display for his viewing.

“look at that pretty pussy,” my body jolts as his fingers do a quick swipe through my soaked folds, a broken moan pouring through my lips.

“please,” i mewl, “i need you you to fuck me.”

his hands wander my body, sliding up to cup my breasts as he stands between my open thighs.

“yeah?” he cocks his head, wrapping a hand around the base of his length. he drags it slowly through my folds, applying added pressure when he reaches my clit.

my back arches, my chest heaving as he slides his dick back down to my entrance.

“yes! please!” my cries bounce off the walls as he slides in, each inch slowly being swallowed by my walls.

he groans, head tipping back as he bottoms out inside of me. he stills, allowing me a moment to adjust, before pulling completely out and thrusting back in.

the position provides the perfect angle, the tip of his cock hitting against my g-spot with every thrust. my body wriggles underneath him, his hands making a home on my hips, gripping tightly enough that i’m sure bruises will form overnight.

“Trevor.” i breathe out, my hands coming up to lock around the back of his neck. i pull him down, lips connecting in a passionate exchange, and when he pulls away, i line kisses up his jaw.

each kiss is jilted by a sensual moan; finally reaching the shell of his ear, he thrusts in particularly hard, a high pitched gasp erupting from my lips that ghost his ear, and i can feel his cheek lift against mine in a cocky grin.

“you wanna come, don’t you, baby?” he speaks through strained vocal chords, his thrusts gaining momentum and his hips slapping against mine harshly.

“mhm.” i nod against him, my agreement hummed against his skin.

“yeah, i know you do.” he pulls his face away in order to stand up taller, pulling my hips off the mattress to provide a deeper angle. “dirty little slut wants to make a mess on my cock.”

my eyes roll back in my head, my hands gripping the sheets as he his cock slams against the soft spongey spot that makes my legs shake.

i can feel my orgasm building up once more, my abdomen tightening. his hand slides down to smack against my ass, the resounding sound enough to make him moan, before sliding around to press his thumb to my clit.

one hand flies up to grip his forearm shakily, my hips jerking to meet his, and the squelch of his cock sliding in and out of my cunt throws me deeper into the throes of my impending climax.

my head is fuzzy, tears pooling in my eyes, and my body aching with need for release. broken sobs begin to shake my body, his thumb rubbing deep circles against my swollen bud.

“so close,” i cry, “please don’t stop! please!”

“not gonna stop, baby.” he whispers, “you’ve been such a good girl. wish you could see yourself, all pretty and fucked out for me.”

my walls tighten around him, sweat beading at my hairline as i get closer and closer to release.

“cum for me, baby.” he demands. his cock twitches inside of me, thrusts growing sloppy with each passing second.

with one more circle of my puffy clit, my breath hitches, my body stiffening but my legs shaking as my toes curl.

he fucks into me, riding me through my orgasm until i begin to breathe heavy pants, my hips squirming in his touch.

his hips stutter, his movements growing desperate until he falters, stilling between my legs as his cum spurts out in ropes, coating my walls, “shit, fuck.”

he stays buried inside of me, standing in silence as we each catch up on forgotten breaths.

“i’m sticky.” i sigh, causing his eyes to open in order to look at the glistening candy cane residue on my upper body.

“would ya look at that,” he slides out of me, chuckling while bending down to scoop his arms under my back. he lifts me with an ease that i couldn’t imagine myself having after the activity we just partook in.

my breasts stick to his chest as he walks me to the bathroom lazily. grinning, he sets me down on the edge of the bathtub, my skin peeling away from his with a satisfying sound.

“how does a bath sound?”

“sounds like a lot of extra work after i already washed my face, you asshole.” i joke, kicking a foot at his bare thigh.

he let’s out a wheezy laugh as he turns on the hot bath water before turning back to me, his hands pushing sweaty locks of hair out of my face before gently cupping my cheeks.

“you’re so beautiful,” his words cause a rush of blood towards my cheeks, my hands coming up to rest on his forearms.

“shhh bath first. and then tell me how pretty i am,” he laughs once more, shaking his head.

“have i ever told you how conceited you are?” he hums, crinkling his nose as he lowers to press a kiss to my forehead.

“you love it.” i shrug, puckering my lips for a real kiss.

he squats lower, nose nudging against mine, “yeah, i do.”

[toxicanonymity]

night walks: soaked

3.6k / creepy!joel miller x f!reader / night walks

Warnings:  I8+ mdni, alcohol, dirty talk, grinding, jacking off, oral F receiving, unsafe P in V sex, creampie, angst. very brief ass play. drug references. impaired editing. Shoutouts: various anons & night walks asks and Qs including @selfproclaimed-moviecritic and @missannwinchester. Picks up from Morning After. Floor plan here. Can read alone I think.

A loud clap of thunder startles you awake.  You sit up in Joel’s bed, untangling yourself from the sheets.  Joel’s not there.  There’s music coming from the other side of the basement, and the clink of weights.  You look around for your clothes and remember they’re out there scattered around the couch.  Great.  You get out of bed, wrap the sheet around you, and sheepishly emerge from his bedroom.  Joel counts down from five as he finishes bench pressing then racks the weight.  He’s shirtless.  He sits up and wipes his brow.  He does a double-take when he sees you walk in, then looks you up and down with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Lookin�� good,” he says. 

You gather your clothes from around the couch and say “Just getting dressed.” Your phone is dead.  “What time is it?” 

“Hell if I know.  Look perfect to me, pumpkin.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you. “Real life goddess.”  Lightning flashes outside. 

You sit down with your clothes in your hands and look away as he watches you get dressed. You’re too tired to care and your head hurts. There’s a loud clap of thunder as you pull your tank top on.  Joel picks up his water bottle and takes a swig, then puts it down and stands up to stretch.  You pull your sweatpants on under the bed sheet.  He walks around the couch and you do your best not to ogle his glistening body, dressed only in shorts.  You start putting on your shoes and the fridge opens behind you.

“Hair of the dog?” Glass bottles slide out and clink against each other.

“Nah, I gotta go.” 

“In this mess?” he asks as thunder rumbles. The blinds are pulled up on one window now and it looks pitch black outside. “Didn’t ya walk here? Gonna get soaked.”

He comes back with two beers and hands you one.  He also brings cold pizza.

“Seriously, what time is it?”

He looks back to the kitchenette.  “Four somethin’.” Shit, no wonder you’re hungry. 

“Thanks.”  You bite into a slice of pizza first, then take a sip of your beer. 

“Attagirl. Let’s watch somethin’ while this clears up, hmm?”  He turns on Netflix.  His recently watched list is mostly action movies and nature documentaries.

You slide your shoes back off and ask, “You like animals?” You’re wondering if it’s his own Netflix history or someone else’s. 

“Hell yeah, who doesn’t?” 

You raise your eyes in surprise and nod. “Got a favorite?” Thunder crashes. 

His face gets serious and he exhales like it’s a really difficult question.  “Well shit, can’t pick just one.  But big cats are cool as hell. D’you know leopards are basically nocturnal?” 

He hands you the remote control.  Not really caring what you watch, you idly click on the #1 trending: You. 

“Oh, not this creep again,” he says and leans back with an exaggerated eye roll. “Addicting, though, ain’t it?”  He looks at you, takes a sip of beer, and rests his hand on his inner thigh.  You put on Narcos.

You watch a few episodes and have a couple of beers as it storms outside.  At some point, you bring your legs up on the couch and he coaxes your feet in his lap.  He massages your feet.  You don’t talk much, and when you do, it’s nothing serious.  But it’s still the most talking you’ve ever done.   You mostly discuss different shows and the neighborhood. 

“Why haven’t I seen ya at the pool before?” he asks. 

“First summer here,” you say.  

“Wanna go sometime?” 

“I dunno,” you say. “Don’t like the sun much.” 

“Oh hell no, not in the day,” he laughs. “They don’t lock the gate at night.”  He winks at you and gives your foot a squeeze, running his other hand up your calf to massage it. He lowers his voice and adds, “We could go any night ya want.” 

-

There’s a long moment of silence. He takes a deep breath as he kneads your calf and watches you watch TV.  His face darkens.  You have to assume you’re both thinking about the same thing - the pool at night.  Joel scoots closer to you on the couch and pulls your calves into his lap.  His cock hardens against your leg through his thin sweatshorts. Then he gently bends your closest knee to make room for himself.  He gets between your legs and slowly lunges toward you, laying the bulge in his shorts against the crotch of your pants. 

“Any night ya want,” he repeats, then brings his mouth to your neck.  He kisses and lightly sucks your delicate skin and gently presses his hard length against you.  Then he kisses you on the mouth.  He tastes like beer. He puts his forearms down either side of you and slowly thrusts against you.  He kisses you on the neck again, then murmurs, “my turn,” behind your ear.  “Show ya what this mouth can do.”  You have flashbacks to the blow job you gave him the night before. 

Joel makes his way down your body and hooks his fingers into your sweatpants.  As he brings the waistband down, he kisses the crease of your thigh and you squirm uncomfortably. “I’ll take your word for it,” you say somewhat cruelly as he plants a wet kiss just above your mound.  The truth is you already know, from the restaurant bathroom.

He pauses.  “What’samatter, pumpkin?” 

“I just feel so dirty,” you admit. 

He smirks and opens his mouth to say something predictable, but you cut him off. 

“Physically dirty. I need a shower.” 

He pauses. 

“So take one,” he offers. He sits back and extends his hand to help you up. You hesitate and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Why not? We got time. Shit, I could use one, too.”  

You swallow hesitantly. Showering with him?  Far too intimate.  First you end up in his bed, then his shower, all in the same 24 hours?

He seems to read your mind and clarifies, “Ladies first.” The storm isn’t letting up. You don't have anything to lose and definitely need a shower.

-

The back of his bathroom has a frosted window and a free-standing shower with no door and a drain on the floor. The ceramic tiles of the wall are dark peach with one row of black just below the window.  The ledge of the window holds the  soap, body wash, and shampoo.  

“Faucet's kinda weird,” he says.  “I’ll get it started.”  Your eyes scan his bare back as he turns on the shower for you, standing out of the way of the water but getting lightly sprayed by tiny droplets.  The water is loud.  He has a couple of small tattoos you don’t remember seeing before.  They look abstract from what you can tell, but they’re faded and the lines are blurred from age. 

“Guessin’ you like it hot,” he says and turns the dial.  He gets a towel and hangs it on a hook for you.  

“Thanks.” You stand there awkwardly waiting for him to leave.

“Mmm hmm.” He hesitates by the door to his bedroom, a few feet away from you with his arms crossed. He checks you out, then uncrosses his arms and abruptly steps forward into your space.  He grabs your ass and pulls you into him, your hips meeting his.  He grinds himself into you again, sending a fresh pang of desire through you.  He kisses your mouth, then your neck, and sucks your earlobe. He grabs the hem of your shirt from behind and takes it off, discarding your tank top.  Then he slides his palms into your pants, leaving his thumbs hooked outside your waistband.  He takes your pants down, dropping them to the floor as he grabs your bare ass cheeks and pulls you harder into him, his clothed hardness pressing into your naked front. 

Steam billows over from the water.  He goes to check the temp, his tented shorts getting sprayed again.  His back muscles are a sight to behold.  They flex gracefully under his skin with every movement.  He must spend half his time working out.   He checks the water and mutters, “Alllriiight.” You step toward the water.  He turns and looks. “God damn, pumpkin,” he says as he shamelessly observes your naked body head on. 

“Shut up,” you whisper to the ground and cross your arms.  Lightning flashes outside. Your parents always told you not to shower in a storm.  It’s exciting, somehow.  "I'll be quick," you say.  

"Take your time," he mutters and slowly walks backwards, palming himself as he takes in your form again.  You watch over your shoulder as he disappears into his bedroom. You imagine he’s about to jack off.  If you’re honest with yourself, you’d rather he wait for you. 

-

You turn down the heat a little and examine his array of products in the frosted window, briefly distracted by the silhouette of your reflection. You soap up your body, starting with your shoulders and back, probably using way too much shower gel.  You close your eyes and inhale deeply as your hands slide over your body and your nostrils fill with Joel’s aroma.

You open your eyes to see two silhouettes in the reflection and your breath hitches as they combine into one. Joel’s strong arms wrap around you from behind. He wordlessly gropes a soapy breast and presses his naked, rock-hard length into your back side, sliding his other hand across and down your stomach for leverage.  He grunts, “Mm” as he presses his cock against you. His voice is low and smooth as he mutters, “Filthy, aren’t we?”

His hands slide down your waist to your thighs.  His stiff cock shifting against you makes you weak in the knees.  He presses it against you again. It swells and you moan softly.  

“Yeahh, that’s my dirty girl." 

You start to warn him, “Joel-” He bends his knees, putting his hands on your hips.   “Don’t let me fall,” you say. you're still covered in lather.

As he slowly stands up straight again, he drags his hands and cock up your slippery body and runs his closed mouth up your neck to the back of your ear.  “Nothin’ wild in here, baby,” he murmurs. "We’ll get clean together. . . ‘fore we get real dirty.”  His voice echoes low and sexy. You breathe a sigh of relief. Knowing the perils of getting soap somewhere you wouldn't want to.

He plants a kiss on your jaw and uses his hand to bring your mouth toward his. You turn around to face him. His lips press into yours as his arms wrap around you again, your tits pressing into his chest.  He looks a lot different with his hair somewhat wet.  Sexy in a new way.  He reaches his long arms down and squeezes both your thighs below your ass, then slides his hand up your crack and grabs a cheek with an, “mm” into your mouth. 

You drape your arms around his neck.  He works his hands up your back, massaging what’s left of the lather into you, and slides his hands through your underarms on the way to your breasts.  Your nipples pucker under his palms as he massages your breasts from the front and watches a small trail of bubbles slide down between them. “Fuck me,” he breathes.  He looks up at your eyes, then turns you around again.  

He brings you you both directly under the water again.  He rinses your back, then gets your breasts again from behind, pressing gently against your ass with his cock as stiff as ever.  “You’re gorgeous, pumpkin.”

“Thanks,” you whisper and begin to rinse your own body.  The sight of your own hands gliding across your skin is something he has to see.  You turn to face him and he’s covered with your lather, from his light chest hair down past his happy trail to his slippery cock. He watches you darkly, and begins to slowly stroke his raging erection.  You reach down and grab it.  His lips part.  

“You’re always ready, aren’t you?” you ask. 

“For you? Hell yeah.” 

You stroke him gently, assuming he would stop you if it was a bad idea. He doesn't.  His grunts and sighs echo off the tile. “All yours, baby,” he murmurs.  He puts his hands around your waist and watches as his hips thrust into your fist. When he’s about to come, he says, “Guess anywhere goes?” taking his cock from you.  He points it at your stomach.

To hell with it. You kneel down. “Tits,” you say.  

“Fuck yeah, baby.”  He breathes audibly and you watch tension spread across his face.  Then he shoots a huge load all over your chest with a long groan that echoes and makes you ache for him.  

He helps you to your feet.  “Still need my head between those legs, baby.”

“Do you mind if I, uh-” you look down at the cum on your chest.

“Sure, pumpkin.”  He quickly washes and rinses himself, and gives you a light slap on the ass as he steps out to let you finish bathing. 

-

You dry off, wipe the mirror with your hand, and use his mouthwash.  Then you step into his bedroom with a towel wrapped around you, tucked under your armpits.  His hair is fluffier again.  He has on pj pants but still no shirt. He sits down on the edge of the bed and looks up at you, captivated.  He murmurs, "c'mere," and spreads his knees.  You stand between his knees and he unfastens your towel, letting it drop around your feet.  “So fuckin’ hot,” he whispers, his eyelids heavy as though hypnotized by your body. “How ya keep your hands off yourself, hmm? Body like this.”

He takes your breast in his mouth and closes his eyes as he sucks at your nipple and palms the other one.  He moans, "Mm," into your mouth.  He releases your breast and gently pulls you by the hamstrings toward his lap.  You straddle him. Your naked cunt dampens his pants as you meet his warm package, already semi-hard again. 

Fuck, it’s all you want. You can’t get enough of it. Watching him jack off only made you want it more. 

He lies back on the bed, taking you with him then rolls over so he’s on top of you.  He slowly kisses his way down your naked body, his lips brushing away the remaining water droplets in your cleavage and belly button.  Between your legs, it's even slicker than before the shower.

He slides off the bed and kneels on the floor at the foot of it.  He pulls you by your thighs so his head is right between your naked legs. “God damn, you got the juiciest pussy,” he whispers right to it.  He plants his nose at your entrance then drags it upward, slickening your clit before digging into your cunt with his tongue and lips.  He moans and grunts as he devours you.  When he thrusts his tongue into you, all you can think about is his cock and how bad you want it.  

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Joel,” you say. 

He looks up at you from between your legs but doesn’t stop.  He knows you’re enjoying it, why should he?

“Stop,” you say.  “Come up here.” 

He knows what you want.  You can see it in his eyes.  He rests his head on your inner thigh and asks with puppy dog eyes, “Why? Don’t like it?” He knows you do. 

“It’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“I think you know what I want.”  Your hips lift and your legs try to lift him toward you by his underarms.

“Hell yeah, I do,” he says and palms himself.  “But lemme hear it, baby.  Just this once.” He plants a kiss on your clit and swirls his tongue, looking up at you.  

You sigh.  “I want your cock.”

“Damn right,” he says and takes his pants off.  He takes his time making his way back up your body.  Far too much time when you’re desperate to be filled. 

“Jesus, give it to me,” you beg. 

“Ohh, I’ll give it to ya,” he says.  He reaches down and fingers you, then nudges your asshole, using your slick to push the top section of one digit inside.  

You gasp. 

“Ya like that?” he asks. 

You moan softly.  “God, I just want you inside me,” you beg. 

“Yeah, baby.” He removes his fingers and uses his other hand to drag the head of his cock through your slick. 

“Now,” you whisper and grab his wrist, stopping him with the head of his cock at your entrance. 

“Yeah, baby.”  

He presses forward and nestles his cock for entry.  “Yeah,” you nod.  "Now."

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes. 

When your bodies are aligned, the clean skin of his stomach against yours is a feeling you didn’t realize you needed so badly. 

He shoves his length into you with a grunt.  You moan softly as your body accepts him, then you bite your lip.   

“Don’t hold back on me now, sugar,” he murmurs, staring down at you darkly. “Tell me what ya want.” 

“Fuck me,” you say. 

He smirks and backs up enough to slam into you again, watching your mouth fall open with his girth.  He retreats once again and slowly fills you to the brim. Too slowly.  Then he slams into you again and slowly backs up. You moan unrestrained and wrap your legs around him, using all your leg strength to pull him closer into you.  

“Fuck me, really fuck me,” you beg him, “Faster,” you say. 

“Think about it all the time, don’t ya,” he says as he continues fucking you slowly. 

You nod. 

“Hell yeah,” he says as he moves his hips and buries his cock inside you, accelerating but barely. 

“All the time,” you say, and he speeds up a little more. “Fuck me,” you beg him.

“Yeah, I’ll fuck ya,” he whispers, and finally he does.  

He rails you at a perfect rhythm. He watches your tits bounce, occasionally dipping his head for a taste of your skin. He plants his mouth on your neck and marks you. It barely takes any time at all until your spine is arching and he’s saying “yeah, come for me, baby.” 

As you see stars and flutter around him, he says, “God damn you look hot when you come on this cock."  He fucks you through it and doesn't stop. "So damn hot," he repeats. A minute later he bottoms out with a shudder and pulses into you. It isn’t as much as usual given that he just emptied himself in the shower but his stamina sure is impressive for his age. He rolls over and lies on his back next to you.  

“That’s where it’s at, baby,” he pants.  “All about communication.”  He goes to the bathroom and washes up then pulls on his pajama pants.  He goes back out to the couch while you get dressed again.  You're too physically satisfied to feel bad about asking for it.

-

When you join him on the couch, he’s gotten the weed box out and he’s rolling a joint.  

“Not for me,” you say.  “I should really go.”  

“Still rainin’,” he says.  

“Barely,” you shrug. 

He looks at you and nods.  “Alright, pumpkin.  ‘Least lemme give you a ride.” He squeezes your thigh and stands up. 

-

He stops his car in front of your house and your aunt comes to the window then walks away.  Joel sees her and sighs.  

“What?” you ask him. 

“Nothin’. See ya around, pumpkin.”  You go around to the basement entry.

Your Aunt knocks on the basement door soon after you’re inside. 

“Was that Joel Miller dropping you off?” she asks. 

“Why?” you ask. Her eyes fall on your neck and you cover it casually.

“Oh, honey,” she says.  Then she  just shakes her head.  “That man is trouble. He’s probably shagged half the neighborhood.” 

It’s just gossip, but your heart still drops. “He was giving me a ride.”

She looks at you skeptically.  “A ride from the back of the neighborhood?”

You don’t have an answer. “How do you know that for sure about him?”

She puffs out her cheeks and exhales.  “Guess I don’t.  Ask anyone, though. He’s got them coming and going at all hours.” 

You swallow, waiting for her to say something else, then say, “We’re just friends.  Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“Just be careful, honey.” She starts to go back up the stairs then comes back down. "Actually yeah, there's someone your uncle wants introduce you to. Real nice boy he works with."

"Uh - okay," you stammer.

"Great," she nods, "I'll tell him." Then she finally leaves you alone.

-

You have a lot of questions you don’t want to ask.  You know Joel’s not a good guy.  The last thing you should do is get more entangled with him.  You're not thinking with a clear head and you know it. 

You lay down on your bed, exhausted, and plug in your phone.  When it turns on, it chimes with a text from a new number.  The text on your lock screen says “Hate me ‘cause they ain’t me.”  You roll your eyes and crack a a smile. Sounds like Joel knew what your aunt would say to you.  At least he’s aware of his reputation? Is that a good thing?  How does he have your number?

You open the text, trying to think of what to say.  There’s an earlier message from him. It's from overnight - a topless photo of you.  You remember now - he said you should see how hot you looked.  You posed for him and gave him your number to send it.  

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging!

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor 

NW: @tehweeana@ele-meno-p@swedishscumfuck

[akingdomscrypt]

Blood on Their Walls (Blood on My Hands)

Part One

Pairing; transmasc!reader x ????

Word Count; 4.6k

Summary; You're Her favorite. Act like it.

Warnings; murder (unnamed side character), blood, 27's weird serial killer vibes, human trafficking, dehumanization, panic & mild dissociation, stockholm syndrome, emotional manipulation, past non consensual body modifications & talk of future ones, needles (it's not as bad as it sounds)

A/n; I'M BACKK and I've had his story planned out from the beginning, second only Mouse :3. Dog/ animal metaphors for characters hold a special place in my heart y'all . And again, character pairing isn't mentioned as a result of the poll did forever ago

---"The Favorite"---

Nestled high up on a hill, surrounded by towering trees of ash, you're laid out on your stomach, buried in a dense thicket of underbrush. The articulated armor plating every inch of your body shields your skin from potential splinters and unwanted thorns—though the sharp barbs did snag and tear at your thick cloak.

The only sounds around you are the quiet rustles of rodents scurrying through the undergrowth, the distant hoot of an owl, and your own muted breathing. 

If you weren't who you were, if you hadn't lived your entire life going through trial after trial, endless experiments and rigorous training regimens, you wouldn't have been able to lay here. Perfectly still. Not moving even a centimeter beyond simple breathing—and even that could be temporarily optional if the need arose—, and watching.

For nearly a twenty-four hour period. 

Watching, waiting. You don't need a scope to see it, don't need those bulky night vision goggles like typical soldiers did. Your own two eyes were plenty efficient on their own.

Catching every slight movement through the two north facing windows; you had been observing it since before the sun greeted the land and now, still, far after the ball of fire had sunk below the horizon. 

Though as great as they may be, it is by pure luck that none of the many guards making their rounds around the building flash a light your way, as, even though you are expertly concealed and undetectable to the human eye, the unnatural gleam reflected by your irises would be a dead giveaway. 

Everything has its consequences.

But nothing of the sort happens, and you are left utterly alone to watch your prey in peace. 

Some old, retired veteran She wanted dead. Mostly grey and starting to bald. Somewhere between its forty-sixth and forty-seventh year alive; not that it mattered. It wouldn't be adding anymore years to that number.

It was prey, you its predator. And you were a very, very capable one.

The best.

Her best.

Predator-027.

Or, as stitched into every item of clothing you had, stamped onto every piece of equipment you owned, embroidered into your collar, and branded into your skin; P-027.

Top of your class; Her favorite.

It's almost laughable how easy it is to slip into your targets’ residence undetected. It had taken nothing more than slinking past a couple dozen armed guards, too dumb to notice you unhooking a key card from one of their belt loops, and swiping it through the reader on the door. The idiots are oblivious even to the beep that rings out when the light flashes green and the door unlocks with a harsh thack. 

The plain white card slips from between your gloved fingers, left to lay innocently in front of the victims’ door. Someone would need to discover the remains of your prey, and you did not plan on leaving the same way you had come. 

Nor did you expect to be here long. 

You don't turn on any lights, footfalls soundless on polished hardwood, barely even breathing as you make your way to your prey’s last known location. 

It would be much simpler to wait until it fell asleep, vulnerable and unaware, and most soldiers, even the majority of your fellow Predators, would take that path.

But you were the best, and you didn't need to wait. No use in lingering longer than absolutely necessary; you know exactly where it is, and what it is up to. 

The old general doesn't get further than wide, frightened eyes and a sharp intake of breath before your blade is slashing through flesh. Gloved hand on its chin, forcing the jaw shut, the pointed end of your knife dragging from one ear to the other. Blood poured down its pale hide, soaking its shirt and further. 

Dull blue eyes locked in permanent terror, jaw unhinged in a scream that would never be heard. Now laid supine on the hard floor, lowered with little effort on your part despite him being larger than yourself. Moonlight filters in through the window you had earlier observed it from, causing the pooling crimson around the carcass to shine and glimmer with the likeness of a ruby. 

A shame, really, that such a pretty substance circulated within those who didn't deserve it; sealed away under layers of useless flesh until you arrived to free it. And liberate it you did, as the liquid now flowed freely around its fallen form, painting the perfect flooring a beautiful shade of scarlet. 

Not a spec of blood marks your uniform, the layers of black as flawless as when you had entered. 

Your window is closing for the most important part of your assignment, though, so you don't linger much more. 

This task is a bit more unpredictable than the kill, so it eats up a little more of your time; with the occupant now deceased, you are free to roam and search the resistance without interruption. 

For the next half hour at least. 

Most soldiers kept it beside them at all times.. but a man like this, home neat and orderly, old uniform pressed and sealed with plastic in the master bedroom’s closet—decorated with dozens of tiny, colorful pins—wouldn’t just leave it out in the open. No. It would be somewhere hidden, somewhere memorable. 

Like a shrine. 

And just as you'd assumed, like a beacon the jewelry box on the dead general's dresser calls to you. Opening the few drawers embedded within the wooden, carved box is unnecessary, as, surely, a man so prideful of his old duties wouldn't bury it so far out of sight.

And there it is. 

Laid under the lid just as you'd anticipated; two circular disks identifying your prey as a once beloved man, threaded through a pristine chain. 

Shiny metal becomes shrouded by black shadows, nestled in the dark fabric of your gloves as your fingers curl around it. 

You stop to feel the hard lines through the cloth for a second, two, three, four, before tucking it away and making for your exit. Out the window and into the night.

His identity stolen, now yours. It belonged to you. 

Just as many others did. 

Back at home base, your first priority is to get through protocol as quickly as possible. Looking forward to returning to your personal quarters and stashing away the bits of metal you'd stuffed in your pocket. 

Getting in the compound is easy, not a single word needed to be spoken. A glance from you through the lense of a camera, and the two guards standing just inside the facility push a button, letting you into the first chamber. Then the next, and the next. Until you are through and into the first major checkpoint.

A single nurse quickly assesses you for any injuries, and, when he finds none, sends you on your way without another word. There is a sense of hunger that lingers in your empty stomach, but you push it aside, strutting down corridor after corridor. Past the lower levels where training is held, where the younger hatchlings sleep, then the average Predators and their handlers, and higher still. 

Greetings are traded with brief nods and murmured words amongst common soldiers, but none even dare to raise their gaze to meet yours.

Sure, everyone knows each other, and may recognize them by a simple number in passing. But you, you. You walk these halls with a confidence they could never possess. A title and position they could never have, could never hold nor fathom. Because you are Her favorite, not them. And they all want to be you.

And because you are Her favorite, you are granted the honor of being able to visit and decompress from the operation in your quarters before giving Her your debrief. 

Which is exactly where you disappear to, after every single mission, back in your room with the overhead light on the dimmest setting, your belongings bathed in that low, warm glow.

A bed pressed in one corner, a desk on the opposite wall, by the door, and a nice little closet to organize all of your clothing and weapons in. 

Your target at the moment is the good sized box that fits perfectly under your bed; made out of cardboard and just small enough to slide in snugly, something you'd picked out of the warehouse several years back. 

It's not like anyone would miss the little thing anyway; it got far more use here, in your room, than it ever would in the dusty corner of a storage room. 

Carefully, you unbuckle each of your gloves, sliding them off by the middle digit and laying them on the floor beside you. Then with tender hands, you guide the box out from beneath your bed, placing it in your lap and gently unfolding the top. 

You take a moment to appreciate the collection you already had stored away, the metals inside varying from rusty and bloodstained, to polished and shiny. Some held together by a keyring while others were looped onto a chain; several more lay loose at the bottom of the box.  

Next you reach a hand into your pocket, grasping the cool metal between your fingers; cradling them in your bandaged palm, savoring the victory of yet another operation. 

Now dangling the tags above the rest in the box, gently holding it up by the chain, you slowly lower it atop the rest. A new add-on to your collection. 

Another name that you own. 

Closing it back up, you slide the box back into its rightful place, making sure it stays hidden from view. Buckling your gloves back into place and pushing yourself up to your feet.

You beeline for Her office right after that; to the right down the hall and up one last final staircase, Her place nestled directly above your own.

A subtle one, two tap of your knuckles against the metal door is all it takes for the automatic lock to slide open, granting you entrance. An invitation you take immediately, not wanting to be late.

She is still in the middle of a meeting with a few other high ranking officers when you enter, but that doesn't affect you. It only means you will have to be a little patient. You're good at that.

Your legs carry you to stand in front of Her desk, a pace or two behind the occupied chairs positioned before it. Posture straight and stiff, shoulders back and chin raised; gaze dead set on the empty space in your direct line of sight. 

She doesn't leave you waiting long, acknowledging your presence with a soft sigh and an endearing drawl of, “Ah, there's my dog. Right on time.” 

The sound of wheels rolling over hardwood flooring and the subtle vibrations that travel through the ground tell you that She is approaching.

Now in your line of sight, She gives you a glance only you could decipher. In the presence of company, you better be on your best behavior. 

Good dogs get rewarded, disobedient mutts get The Muzzle (and The Box if She's feeling particularly unforgiving). 

Which means you don't flinch when She moves to loom behind you. Grabbing your jaw firmly with one hand and bringing a pair of surgical scissors to your face. With a single finger, the hand with the tool hooks under the thin fabric of your cowl, yanking it down in one swift movement to reveal the mask beneath. 

Readjusting Her grip on your jaw first, She then deftly slips the cool metal instrument beneath the mask; removing each and every neat stitch with a practiced precision.

You can feel the other three officers’ eyes burning into your skin as she slowly unveils your face, causing your heart rate to increase, just a bit. The urge to flee seeping into your bones, a crawling sensation prickling under your skin, growing increasingly stronger the more they stare; as if hundreds of little maggots have begun to wiggle and squirm beneath your delicate flesh, gnawing away at the muscle and fat that lies just beneath. 

But you don't move. The mask comes off, falls silently to the floor, they stare, Her hand is on your skin, the urge to claw, to itch, grows- but you stay still. Obedient. You're a good dog.

“It's perfect, isn't it?” She speaks suddenly, and you hear the three men murmur their agreement. “A perfect dog, I've trained it well.”

“This the one you are lending out overseas?” One of the men asks. You don't look, don't tear your gaze away from the wall in front of you. This is the first you've heard of being sent out again. So far out, no less. 

Maybe the man is wrong. Isn't it a bit early to send you into the world again? You've only just gotten back.

“It is,” She sounds smug when She says this. Confident, and you let out the breath you had been holding; slow and controlled, the way your muscles tense up further is imperceptible to the other people in the room. But you know She can feel it.

Her eyes say all that is left unspoken when they flick back to you again. 

You don't meet those piercing hues; keep your own gaze locked forward. Don't look. Never look. That was lesson number one.

“As you can see,” She continues, one hand still on your jaw, holding you in place, the other moving to make a grab for your right arm. Limp in Her hold, pliant, as she moves it this way and that. “He's perfectly obedient. My best one yet; I can do anything I want to it. And it will remain loyal, will not resist.” 

“We're even in the process of a few additional body modifications to improve it.” Her hand slides down your arm to grip your wrist, unclasping the glove before slipping it off and dropping that on the floor too. “Something that will pair well with these,” 

Next comes the bandage wrapped around your fingers and secured around your palm. It, too, is discarded in a pile at your feet.  

Your fingertips are still sore, and it's a challenge to not instinctively flinch away as She trails a digit over one of the healing scars. “We haven't used them in practice yet, but my team is confident they will perform excellently under pressure.”

Five, surgically implanted, claw-like structures to replace the blunt nails that used to be there. Still a bit new and soft, the flesh red and raw around the incisions. 

Your left hand is identical; the keratin-like material is set to be hardened and ready for use following the next few weeks. 

“And if they don't?” Another man asks. His voice in particular grates on your nerves, worse than the sensation of another person's flesh touching your own.

“Then we'll remove them,” She says, and you can feel Her shrug from where She stands behind you. She twists and turns your hand, showing off every angle of the alteration that had been made to your hand to the men in the room. “If they do, we will begin preparations for performing the same procedure on the others. Starting with the Hatchlings.” 

Dropping your hand, She moves on. Not quite finished with you yet. 

“If this one is a success, we're already working on the logistics for its equally fatal counterpart.”

“Which will be..?” The third man finally speaks up. Always so soft spoken, you hardly ever hear this one say much more than a greeting to Her. 

She doesn't use words for this part, simply adjusting Her hold on your jaw and giving a small squeeze. “Open.” She commands, low enough to only be picked up by your ears.

You do just that. Letting your mouth fall open, giving her full access to that part of you as well. And she takes it with greed.

Prying your pliant jaws apart and using the other hand to pull your upper lip up and out of the way. Displaying your well-kept teeth to the others, the appraising hums from the three men tell you they know exactly where She's leading this. 

“The human bite is one of the deadliest in the world,” She says, pushing two fingers into your mouth. All with the confidence of someone who knows that an obedient dog like yourself would never consider biting Her. “And that is just with the sheer amount of bacteria found in our saliva. Not taking into account that humans are capable of exerting a bite force of up to 125 kilograms. Take that and add a full set of razor sharp canines on top?”

Saliva pools on your tongue, beginning to flood your mouth, but you don't dare to swallow. To do anything without Her direct permission. 

“Just imagine that..” And right before it spills over, She withdraws. Pulling Her fingers out of your mouth and urging your jaw closed. You swallow greedily, the relief instant. 

She continues to speak after that, but you don't pay it any mind. Mind blank as She secures the glove and cowl back in place; the under mask discarded in a trashcan. 

At some point you end up standing beside Her desk, Herself now seated back in Her chair. Your gaze once more locked on nothing in particular, simply staring into the air ahead.

Her voice, along with the three others, becomes white noise as you wait. 

The meeting lasts for a while longer after that, you pay no attention to what they say. You don't need to, good dogs don't have to do anything but follow orders. And your current one was simple; stand and look pretty.

With your glove back in place, cloth wrapped around your face, you are much more calm. No longer does your skin burn with the need to itch and tear at it, and for the most part, nobody pays you any mind. 

All except one. You feel the soft spoken, no-name man sparing you a glance here and there throughout the meeting, but you ignore it.

It is not your place to question, nor wonder others’ actions. Your place is to obey. And you are very good at that. 

Besides, you have other, more important things to mull over. Like where She could possibly be sending you, for one, after you had just arrived back in the Nest this morning. 

She never shipped you out again this early, usually giving you a couple days grace period before sending you off again. 

It seemed to be set in stone already, though, so never mind the why, it was the where that was concerning. She usually kept you close to home; you didn't appreciate the loud, obstructive bangs and clanks that large vehicles created. The sounds are much too bothersome for your heightened senses; even before your transformation, you'd always had sensitive ears.

This is why, for the most part, you traversed to your assigned target hotspots by foot. You much preferred that over the headache of cars and other noisy vehicles. 

The same went for your eyes, which is why you usually only hunted at night; the sun and bright, artificial lights much too intense for your nocturnal sight. 

The meeting is officially drawn to a close when the last officer exits Her office and the door clicks shut. Only then does She acknowledge you again, chair turning and a soft sight leaving her lips.

“Go sit.” She commands, and you follow quickly. Your muscles enjoy the small stretch after both today's standing and yesterday's position stuck laying on the ground. 

It ends all too soon when you make it over to the little sofa in her office; pushed up against the left wall and far from comfortable, but the familiarity is a comfort on its own and you relax marginally once seated on the hard cushion. Legs off the floor and folded neatly so you can sit with your body turned inward, hands folded in your lap. 

She takes Her time, collecting a few items from Her desks’ drawer before coming to sit in front of you on the sofa. Her own hands are gloved this time too, a small detail that lowers your guard significantly. The smooth latex against your flesh much better than skin on skin.

“You did well, 27,” She murmurs, that soft tone reserved for when speaking to you and you only. Mindful of your sensitivity to sound; though in front of company She has to put up a tougher act. Can't let them know She has any weaknesses, as She always tells you. “Always obedient. Never doubted your capabilities for a moment.” 

Gently, She takes one of your hands into Her own—the one She had used to showcase your most recent modification—removing the glove with a practiced ease. 

“You know I do not enjoy sending you back out so early,” She begins, and you nod along. Watching as she carefully inspects the stitches in your fingers, checking each one then pulling out a small bottle. Delicately coating the incisions with the ointment. “But this one is urgent.” 

Next is the wrap, looping the bandage around each finger once, twice, before going once over your palm and securing it around your wrist. 

“I have made multiple accommodations already, you know how much I hate seeing you in discomfort, but I will be sending you overseas.” Your other hand clenched reflexively, a sharp pain electrifying your nerves from the very tips of your fingers and up the entire length of your arm; burrowing into your shoulder. 

“I know, it's not what either of us want.” Replacing your glove She reaches for the other, unfurling your stiff fingers and repeating the process. Glove, ointment, bandage, glove again. “But if you want to keep being good, I need you to do this for me, okay? It's an easy one, don't worry.” 

Both hands done, next comes the mask. Ever-so-softly, She reaches with both hands, slowly lowering your cowl. You didn't mind it so much when it was Her looking at you, because you knew She didn't expect you to look at Her back. She wouldn't scold you for staring between Her eyes instead of directly at them; not like He did.

“You will attach yourself to a commander over in North America, do whatever he tells you, just as you would with me,” you tense at that, but She soothes you with a soft hum and delicate brush of a gloved thumb over your cheek. “You will not give him full control, of course, you are still my dog, not his. But in order for this to work you must infiltrate his very operation; earn his trust and the ones of his comrades.” 

Just like earlier, She commands an “open,” and taps your jaw; only this time it's a soft murmur and not the harsh uttering when in front of company. You do as you're told, and She quickly scrapes off what had been applied before your last operation. Wiping it off on a cloth She had laid on Her thigh, then, carefully, She coats every bit of your teeth in a fresh layer. A sticky substance upon application, but fast to dry, intended to keep your teeth clean and protected until the next mask removal. 

Cradling your jaw with one hand, She takes care in cleaning your face of all the grime that had collected on your skin during your week-long operation—a couple days spent getting there, one for the kill, and then the return home. Making sure to remove every bit of sweat and such before drying you off with a soft cloth.

“Now,” She says, letting your skin finish drying while She prepares the needle and thread. A fresh mask already readied on her lap. “Although this is more of a recon operation, you are, as usual, permitted to eliminate any and all prey that threatens your assignment.” 

Having done this so many times before, you barely even feel the slight pinch of the needle entering and exiting your skin again and again. Already used to the feel of the thin string moving beneath the surface of your flesh, the tug and pull as She secures the new mask to your face. Still a plain black, the fabric plenty breathable even with the addition of the usual cowl on top. 

Once the last stitch is placed, leaving a small hole at the bottom, She gently gives it a few tugs, assuring it stays where it should. 

You feel Her gaze locking onto your eyes, and you spare Her a glance in turn before looking away again and giving a brief nod. 

You can do this, of course you can. You are Her favorite for a reason. 

It's just a little rushed.. but you know She would never give you anything you couldn't handle. Your hands, currently snuggly wrapped in bandages, is proof of that. Even though the surgeons had given you a funny look when you'd scoffed at the idea of being put under. You hadn't even struggled. She had been so proud.

You are packed up and on the aircraft the next morning. A duffle containing everything you could possibly need over the next few weeks, or however long his operation may take—that is where She had been a little unclear, not giving you a specific date of return when you had asked—, resting on the bench beside you.

It was you, the pilot, and an older officer onboard and no one else. 

You didn't like the uncertainty of not knowing the exact dates and times of your missions very much. It unnerves you, having an empty slot of time looming, daunting, waiting for you to fail. A solid end and beginning gave you something to lean on, a safeguard to keep you from floating away; otherwise you were nothing more than a lost duckling at sea, awaiting the relief of a predator's jaws. 

Because what were you when stripped of what She gave you? Without the enhanced vision or hearing, the endurance or strength, everything She and the collective gave you? Nothing. 

She saved you. She took you in when no one else wanted you. And you owed Her everything. 

So despite the fact that the very thought of this operation had cold, liquid dread filling your veins, an imminent sense of something lingering over your head- you would do this. For Her.

You are nothing without Her. And never could be.

The ordinary headphones issued to protect ears from the harmful noise of the aircraft were not enough for your own oversensitive ones, and She had kindly requested a pair specifically to cater to your specialized needs. Even the man sent to accompany you on this flight had been directed to sit on the other side of the cabin, giving you plenty of room to sit and be without feeling overcrowded.

Your bag carries extra cloaks and masks, neatly organized knives and other small weapons, dozens of packets of standard issued blended foods in your favored flavors—courtesy of Her, likely—, a couple metal straws for eating and drinking, some personal care items, everyday clothes, and, of course, a mini sewing kit and other miscellaneous things to repair your clothing if need be. She had even included a good chunk of cash secured by a metallic clip in American currency. 

She did everything for you, put so much effort into you, and it was time you repaid Her kindness.

At least now you knew where you were headed. 

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[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Secrets in Love

A/n: No one asked for this, did anyone besides me even want this? I don't know, but it exists now and it is quite possibly the longest one I've written.

Warnings: Angst, blood, enemies to lovers, omegaverse au, reader goes on a date with a creepy guy and he follows her around a bit, smut, unprotected p in v, slight breeding kink (it's not mentioned but it's kind of hinted to?), marking, if you think I missed anything please let me know otherwise enjoy <3

James went to your high school and you hated him. It wasn’t that you really hated him, he just seemed to hate you. Always picking on you, stealing your food, poking fun at you whenever he saw the chance. Your weekends were your escape from him and you took that time very seriously.

You’d run a bubble bath, set up candles and everything.

You were just getting out when you heard a knock on the door. It was persistent and loud, of course no one else was home so you had to run down in a bathrobe to answer it.

On the other side was James, drenched from the rain with blood soaked into his clothes, but that wasn’t the most catching feature he had. Fluffy dog ears and a tail protruded from him. You stared at him wide eyed for a moment before he spoke up.

“C-can I come in..? P-please..?” His voice was shaky and weak, his heart beating fast and he was short of breath. You nodded silently and let him in.

He walked straight past you and went to crash on your couch. You followed him, grabbing the first aid kit your family kept in the kitchen on your way. You knelt beside him, pulling up his shirt to see the damage. Wounds on either side of his torso, blood spilling out and seeping into your couch. You ran to get a clean cloth, returning a few moments later with a bowl of warm water to clean him off with.

James winced with every stroke but soon you had him mostly cleaned off, enough for you to bandage him up. He stayed laying down as it was comfortable and he didn’t want to risk sitting up. You stayed beside him, watching over him. You couldn’t keep your gaze from falling to his ears and tail though...

“I know what you’re thinking.” He muttered, staring up at the ceiling. You didn’t respond and continued to eye him nervously. “You can touch them if you want.” You looked to his eyes to make sure he was being genuine. In his blue eyes you saw pain, and a wistful anger. Vulnerability.

Hesitantly, you reached out for the fluffy golden ears poking out of his big hair. He closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath as you started petting his ears. “So,” you started, “you’re, like, a werewolf..?” James chuckled softly, a smile playing on his lips.

“Not a werewolf, a hybrid.” He said. You remembered seeing a new island that had been discovered not too long ago. It had been inhabited by human-like creatures with animalistic features, from what people had seen they had the ability to turn completely into animals or humans whenever they pleased.

You hadn’t paid much attention to it, it was far away and didn’t affect you. Right? That’s when James turned up at your school to make your life hell...

You sat next to James as he explained what had really happened, how people came and boarded them onto boats, shipping families apart and ruining everything. You felt for him, really, but that didn’t change the fact that he treated you like shit.

“What happened to your family?” You asked, hand still rubbing his soft ears. James opened his eyes finally and looked at you.

“I was fortunate.” He said. “They were gone long before you people came.” You had expected him to say something about how they’d managed to end up together. Not that.

“Oh.” You pulled your hand back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“How would you?” You shrugged. You paused a moment before standing up and walking to the kitchen. “Where are you going?” James called, leaning back on his arms so he could watch you, you could only imagine the discomfort given his expression.

“I’m just getting something to eat.” He nodded and laid back down. You stepped into the kitchen and paused again, going back to see him. “What do you eat?” He stared at you for a moment. “Like, do you need dog food or something?” James laughed at that.

“Anything’s fine, just don’t give me salad.” You nodded in understanding.

“Is it bad for you?” You asked, wanting to understand him the best you could.

“No.” He said, shaking his head. “I just hate it.” You rolled your eyes and went back to the kitchen to get him something to eat.

The TV was on but you weren’t really watching it, too busy thinking about the events of the night. James lay across the couch while you were on the floor in front of him, both of you had something to eat.

“Where are your parents?” James asked, breaking the almost silence.

You looked at him over your shoulder. “On a work trip, they won’t be back for a few weeks.” You explained. James nodded. “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to rest on my couch.” James smiled and went back to eating. You weren’t sure what you would tell your parents when they saw the bloodstains on the couch. You might just have to replace it.

James was asleep before you even finished eating, he’d devoured his own food and was snoring happily, nose twitching occasionally. He was on his side with pillows supporting him. His tail lay over him. It was big, fluffy. The prettiest yellow colour. You couldn’t help yourself and reached over to touch it.

The odd appendage began to sway slightly, a sign that he was enjoying your touch. So you kept petting him. Soon his tail was thumping against the couch.

He twitched occasionally but you thought nothing of it. Until he grabbed your hand. You hadn’t realised he’d awoken. “Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve...” You trailed off as he brought your hand to his face, giving it a sniff before he licked a trail over the back of your palm.

His tongue was weird. Neither totally human nor totally dog. It was thinner, flatter and very smooth. You stared at him a moment longer. “What are you doing?” You asked, finally.

James looked at you, his eyes drowsy. “Smell good.” He mumbled, holding your hand loosely in his.

You pulled your hand away. “Alright, well, I’ll be in my room upstairs if you need me.” You said awkwardly as you stood up. He was asleep before you even left the room, snoring soundly once again.

You woke up but it felt like a dream. It was still dark, odd since you were a heavy sleeper, usually sleeping straight through the night. There was a weight at your feet, warm and shifting. You turned the lamp on your nightstand on and looked down to find a furry lump at the end of your bed.

“James?” You asked, your voice groggy from sleep. You kicked him gently, trying to shake him awake. Slowly you were met with the head of a golden retriever, his own sleepy eyes looking into yours. “What are you doing?” You watched as the dog got off the bed, James suddenly appearing in its place. He didn’t have a shirt on, he hadn’t since you’d bandaged him up. His jeans were undone and sagging, you figured he was uncomfortable in them.

Thinking about it, sleeping as a dog must be more comfortable for him. No need to worry about a blanket or pillow, you could just find an open space on the floor and crash.

James crawled onto the bed again, getting under the blankets and curling up behind you. He threw an arm around you and pulled you close to him. “Go back to sleep.” He grumbled.

You didn’t know what to do. Earlier today you hated him, part of you still did. Now his arm was around you and he was breathing down your neck, in a pleasant way. You reached over and turned the light off again, relaxing into James and falling asleep.

James awoke the next morning and stretched out, his eyes screwed shut as his joints cracked. He let out a heavy sigh until your scent hit his nose. His eyes snapped open when he realised where he was, your bed alone.

He raced out of your room and down the stairs to find you in the kitchen making pancakes. You looked over at him when you heard him flying down the stairs. “Smell of pancakes get you up?” You teased.

James breathed a sigh of relief and came over to you. “Yeah, something like that.” He wrapped his arms around your waist. You tensed at the feeling and flipped the last of the pancakes onto a plate so you could bring them over to the dining table. James let go of you but followed close behind.

“What are you doing today?” You asked when you’d gotten settled, each of you having a plate of sweet food, James’ stack significantly higher than yours.

James shrugged. “What are you doing?”

“I have a date.” James dropped his fork.

“What?” His eyes bore into yours with a new found hatred.

A shaky breath left you. “A date.” You repeated. You were waiting for the old James to shine through. The only difference was there was more of a danger if he tried to hurt you, you were alone and he was stronger than you initially thought.

“I heard you the first time,” he said, “I just mean how?”

You poked at your food. “Despite what you think, people actually like me.” James huffed but didn’t say anything more and you ate in silence.

Getting ready for your date James hovered over you the whole time, commenting on every outfit you looked at. “I can’t show up naked!” You groaned. James huffed again and pushed you aside, digging through your closet for a moment before pulling out an outfit that matched his style much more closely to yours. An old band shirt your dad gave you that you only wore when doing something where you could get dirty and a pair of blue jeans.

He tossed them on the floor and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting expectantly for you to put it on. You gestured for him to turn away from you and he did, staring blankly into the closet until you were ready to show him the outfit. You gave him a spin and he gave a small nod in approval, though he still didn’t look pleased.

You stood at the door, bag in hand. “Are you fine to stay here until I come back?” James stared at you a little dumbfounded.

“Until you come back?” He repeated. “You’re leaving me to go on a date?”

“Did you think you were coming with me?” You asked in a shocked tone. James didn’t reply, only crossed his arms and looked away. You scoffed and rolled your eyes before leaving, locking the door behind you.

You were having a good time. Your date was going well but it was awkward. You’d gone to school with this guy for a while but he seemed so creepy all of a sudden. You made sure to stay in open spaces with lots of people around, though he kept trying to lead you off somewhere more secluded.

At some point you just had to call it off and go home but he didn’t leave you alone, trailing behind you as you walked. You couldn’t go home now, you didn’t want to call the cops because that would mean stopping. You just had to keep walking in circles until he fucked off, and you knew he didn’t plan on doing so anytime soon.

In a panic you turned a corner onto a small street, not blocked away from the busier streets but there weren’t many people there. You knew your mistake immediately but you couldn’t turn back, so you kept walking.

The street spilled into many alleyways, each one worse than the last. At the end it led out to another busier street so you sped up. Naturally, you started walking closer to the right until you were pulled into one of the alley’s. You mentally cursed yourself over and over again, rethinking every part of your life. You weren’t sure what to do now.

That’s when you heard it.

That familiarly warm and vile tone.

“Are you ok?” James asked as he looked down at you, his bright blue eyes now clouded with something you weren’t quite sure how to label. It was a mix of so many things but beneath it all you found comfort in it.

You gave a small nod. You felt a hand on your shoulder and snapped your head back to see your date. “Sorry, we got a little lost.” He said calmly while you tensed under his touch. You looked back to James as if asking for help. If not for yesterday you would’ve been even more scared having found him here. There was a fury in his eyes you’d never seen before, you didn’t question it when he pushed you to the side.

You wanted to run, and you did. You ran until you were surrounded by people again, and then you kept running, your last view of the two being James’ fluffy features making another appearance.

You hadn’t told him where you were going, even then you’d walked pretty far from the original destination. How James found you was a mystery, you couldn’t be happier that he did nonetheless.

It was already getting dark by the time you got home and you went straight to the bathroom to run yourself a bath, needing to take extra good care of yourself after the hectic last couple hours.

Candles, smelling salts, bubbles, roses, the whole nine yards and more. You got into your favourite pyjamas and watched a marathon of your favourite comfort movies after getting yourself snacks.

When it got late you double checked all your locks and shut all the blinds before crawling into bed, leaving the light on your nightstand on since you didn’t feel quite safe in the dark. It made it harder to fall asleep but at least you could sleep.

Late into the night you heard rustling and it spooked you awake, jumping up in your bed. It was muffled and coming from outside, which relaxed you a bit but not a lot.

Then you heard knocking on your window and you jumped out of bed and rushed to your door. There was no phone in your room, the closest was in your parents and you regretted not bringing it in with you earlier.

Another knock.

This time you looked back, you weren’t sure why you did but when you did you saw James clinging to the tree outside. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief and went over to let him in. “Why didn’t you use the fucking door?” You asked while he crawled in.

“Would you have answered?” He asked as he fell onto the floor with a thud, he didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest and got up, ears and tail on full display now. You thought about it and no, no you wouldn’t have.

“Still, that was creep-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as James’ lips crashed into yours, his arms wrapping around you and pulled you close to him. You froze for a moment before kissing him back, but then you stopped again and pulled away. “Wait, James, what are you-?” Again you were interrupted by a kiss.

“Please.” He said in almost a growl against your lips. You told yourself to pull away but you also didn’t want to. You liked it when he pulled you closer, when his big hands squeezed your sides as he pushed you around or groped your chest and ass. You liked how his tongue felt against yours, how he tasted and the way he bit your lips.

You loved every part of it, all the way down to how he laid over you on your bed. The noises coming out of him were animalistic desire in its purest form and you couldn’t get enough of it. He was quick to rid you both of your clothes, not wasting any time in prepping your hole as you were already wet and loose for him to sink into your sweet heat. You let out a moan as he pushed into you, his big dick forming a bulge on your abdomen.

James kept kissing you all over, using his arms to hold himself up and cage you in under him. There was barely enough room for atoms to exist between your two bodies as he fucked you, pistoning his hips in and out of you at a harsh pace.

The room filled with your high-pitched moans and his low grunts which fell right into your ears. He was breathing so heavy, like panting but with a gruffness to it. You gripped onto him tightly, nails digging into his shoulders, sure to leave scratches.

His sides were still bandages and you were sure the wounds were bugging him right now, parts of them were peeling off from his sweat. But he was relentless, continuously bucking his hips into yours.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He grunted in your ear. “You’re fucking mine, ya hear? No more dates with fuckers like him.” You didn’t trust your voice so you nodded, a whine leaving you.

James’ lips trailed down from your ear to your jaw, down your neck before stopping at the crook of your neck, right where it meets your shoulder. “Mine.” He growled again before biting down on you.

You let out a noise that was a mix between a moan and a scream. It hurt, his canines digging into your skin, blood seeping out. You repeatedly hit his back to get him to stop but he didn’t budge, relishing in the way you squirmed, or was it the pleasure he derived from your pain? You couldn’t say, it didn’t matter, whatever the reason he wasn’t letting go.

Even with the pain he made you feel so fucking good, hitting all the right spots and stretching you out like you’d never imagined and sending you over the edge. Your head fell back, eyes rolling into your head as your body went limp under James, pleasure rocking through your hot body in waves.

Still, James didn’t stop, now on a hunt for his own pleasure. Or, was that all he was looking for?

He rut into you a few more times before cumming deep inside you, hot cum filling you to the brim as if James hadn’t already accomplished that. It was only then that he unclasped his jaw from your fragile, broken skin and started licking the wound clean. His partly dog-like tongue was soothing and it no longer hurt as bad.

James didn’t pull out of you. Instead, he rolled onto his bed and pulled you on top of him, making sure to keep you nice and stuffed full of him and his seed, his arms wrapped neatly around your waist while your head rested on his chest.

You looked up at him, mind foggy and body muggy. You smiled tiredly and reached up to pet his ears. He let out the sweetest moan when you did. “You should’ve told me you liked that sooner.” You teased with a soft giggle, still scratching his ears and playing with his hair.

James smiled but didn’t look at you, too tired to lift his head. “I was busy.” You laughed at that.

“Yeah, my neck noticed.” You sighed. “I’m gonna have to wear turtlenecks for months because of you.” James’ head suddenly shot up at that, a confused look on his face, bordering hurt.

“No you don’t?” It came out as a question but you knew it was an order.

“James, my parents will kill me if they see this.” You said, taking your hand off his head and pointing to the small gashes at the base of your neck.

James shook his head. “I marked you for a reason, and it was not for it to be hidden.” He let his head fall against the pillow again.

You lifted yourself off of him slightly, as much as your strength, and his arms around you, would let you. “You ‘marked’ me?” You asked, slight panic settling into you at the unfamiliar term.

James nodded. “Yes.” He said bluntly, only explaining further when he saw the confused and worried expression on your face. “I’m an alpha, that means you’re my omega. It’s a pact. You’re mine.” You stared down at him in disbelief but didn’t question any further. You were too tired and, honestly, you kind of liked the idea...

[l0ngschl0ngking]

(Met) In the restroom

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

summary: Dieter looks good. Good enough that you let him fuck you in the public restroom at Met Gala

warnings: SMUT (vaginal fingering, oral-f!receiving, semi-public sex, mirror sex, unprotected p in v, spitting, biting, dirty talk, hair pulling, choking), cursing and fluff

word count: 3.8k (surprirse, surprise -quite short for me :D)

A/N: when I saw this look I instantly thought of Dieter. And you know I had to get this out of my head

It was unfair how good he looked tonight. Too good. And he knew it. He also knew you were watching him the whole night - catching your gaze a few times and sending you his signature cocky smirk or a sultry wink. And god, did that make you want to grab him and fuck his brains out right there on the carpet in front of all the other people.

His -other times- unruly hair was now slicked back enchanting his sharp features. His sharp jawline and aquiline nose were even more prominent from the side. You watched as he scratched the bald patch in his salt and pepper beard - the spot where you knew he was sensitive, always shuddering after you kissed him there.

You never saw Dieter dress up much - he loved his loose sweatpants and robes too much and felt comfortable in them so it was a rare treat to see him like this.

The thing that drove you the wildest though were the black shorts. You thought it looked silly when you first saw him arrive but after watching him longer and longer, watching how he strode on the red carpet with confidence made you reconsider. He pulled it off well and oh, you were thanking whoever decided on his outfit because his muscular thighs on display had you sweating in your dress.

The flash of cameras and people shouting and calling your name was something you got used to after the years. It came in handy sometimes. Like right now as you ignored them and watched Dieter as he talked to one of his co-stars on the current film he had been working in. He laughs and the corners of his eyes crinkle, his hand coming to rest on her waist as photographers quickly take pictures of the two of them. And you shouldn't feel jealous - you and Dieter weren't in a relationship. But still, the possessiveness that quickly washes over you is something you aren't proud of so you turn around, your back now facing them as you smile and wave at the people.

And maybe, just maybe you would feel a little bashful watching him like he was a piece of meat all night. But you knew Dieter. And he certainly did enjoy the attention you gave him - his posture always straightened whenever he saw you looking at him, his chest puffing in pride. Because even though he did not show it as much as you, he was affected by you in that pretty dress you were wearing tonight more than he’d liked to admit. You weren’t the only one with dirty thoughts swimming through your mind.

You and Dieter met on the set of Cliff Beasts 6. It was a silly project but your agent said it would get you places - it didn’t, not really. You met the Dieter Bravo and suddenly it was even worst than you anticipated because now you had to be in quarantine with him.

You two definitely weren’t the best buddies right off the start. Dieter is an "over-the-top" kind of guy and downright childish. Not a lot of people can stand him. He knows it. Maybe that’s why he got into acting. Pretending to be someone else every once in a while because nobody liked the real him.

He snorts coke in his free time and fucks anything that moves on two legs. So when he asked you with his puppy dog eyes and pouty lips if you wanted to sleep with him you immediately blew him off. But he was persistent, actually spending time with you and getting to know you - mostly because you were the only one who actually wanted to spend time with him even after he basically asked you multiple times if you’d allow him to “stick his glow stick into your dark cave”. And after a while, you got used to his eccentric persona and to be quite honest, you even enjoyed spending time with him. He was like a breath of fresh air.

One night you got drunk together - neither of you were good at holding your liquor.

That was all it took before you were in his room, your ass up in the air as he drilled into you from behind. And honestly, you never expected Dieter Bravo to make you cum three times in a row in one night. He was everything you’d thought he’d never be - attentive, passionate, eager to please. Also vocal. Very vocal.

And so you kept on sleeping with each other - even after the wrap of Cliff Beasts. You came to his, he came to yours. You fucked and then one of you left the other’s apartment. It was just that - release. Nothing more. But after a while, you started having breakfasts together, then it came to you keeping some of your belongings in his apartment, you just chatting as you watched him paint in his studio - you actually figured out Dieter was a smart guy if he wasn’t high, movie nights, dinner dates at home…you eventually moved in but neither of you would ever admit that.

For fuck’s sake, you weren’t even sure if you were dating or not. Dieter was scared of commitment, that much you learned from spending time with him, so you never pushed. And you were comfortable with it - no labels on your relationship, no pressure, no public exposure, no paparazzi or magazines that would start drama.

But at the moments like these - where he was pretending you didn’t even exist and you tried to do the same - you wished that you would go public. That you two would be now together here - as a couple. But alas, it was just your wishful thinking.

And before you know what is happening, a hand snakes its way onto your waist, a familiar cologne fills your nostrils and makes your heart skip a beat. You slowly turn your head to look at him and he squeezes your waist tighter, the rings on his fingers digging into your flesh, as he mutters a quick: “Smile for the cameras, sweetheart.”

You want to ask him what does he think he is doing but the words die on your tongue when he pulls you closer to his side. And so you do as he says, his touch sears its way onto your skin and yeah, you were in big trouble. Because fuck buddies definitely didn’t make eachother feel how he made you feel right now - like a fucking teenager whose crush smiled at them for the first time. Minutes pass, you aren’t sure, as his hands finally leave your waist and you think you are able to finally breathe again. Before he leaves, his hands brush against your lower back, his breath hitting your neck - you can smell the mint gum he chewed before he got here.

“I can’t wait to fuck the sweet cunt of yours tonight, sweetheart. You look so good in this dress.”

And with that, he leaves. Leaving you with your mouth wide open and your gaze burning into his back. But it does make you feel better - you would be the one who he was leaving with tonight. You would be the one who'd feel his plush lips on your skin, his tongue tracing your curves. You would be the one who'd ride the muscular thigh of his tonight because Dieter loves when you use him for your own pleasure. You would be the one who would make him cum and hear his pretty pleas and whines, and groans because they were only for your ears to hear.

Yeah, you had problems.

The afterparty makes you loosen up a little. You chat and laugh, drink expensive champagne and for a moment, totally forget about Dieter Bravo. You don’t see him, the room is crowded and loud as people talk. One of your friends leaves the table to get another glass for the two of you when you spot him - your eyes narrowing as he laughs at something one of his female co-workers says as she grabs him by the bicep and he is already looking at you from the corner of his eye, his mustache lifts upwards with the little smirk he throws you.

And you do need to get away because it’s not about you being jealous - even though you hate the fact. It’s about him toying with you and you not being able to do anything about it. Because what could you do? You never said you two would be exclusive and it hurts. It hurts because you have no right to be jealous - he isn’t yours. Oh, how freaking stupid you were to tangle up with Bravo.

You enter the restroom - it’s spacious and clean and it smells nothing like restrooms. More like lavender? You see your reflection in the mirror - she doesn’t look like you. Were you so desperate for a man that did not want you? That he was so afraid of being seen in public with you he rather flirted with anyone else but you? You put your purse on the edge of the ceramic sink and lean your hands on it, breathing in as you look down into it. You hear the door open and close quickly before you hear the lock click but you pay it no mind. When you look back in the mirror you yelp - jumping in the air comically. He chuckles and grabs your hips so he can spin you around and face him.

You don’t have a time to ask him what is he doing as his lips are already on your neck - you can feel him smile into your flesh when his tongue traces your collarbones and a quiet moan escapes from your mouth, your fingers gripping his coat and you pull him away from you because you can’t do this anymore. Sneaking around, only stealing a few minutes of time sometimes. His brown eye search for yours as he looks at you confused, pupils blown wide, his tongue quickly coming out to lick his lower lip. You do not dare to look at him.

“I think we should end this.” the room falls silent. You can only hear the music from outside the door and your beating heart that needs to call the fuck down. He pulls away from you completely, his expression more heartbroken than shocked.

“What? Why?” It hurts to hear him say it like that - his voice quiet as he almost chokes on the words. He looks like a kid that just broke his favorite toy. He waits and when you don’t answer hurt quickly turns into anger, his face hardening. “Just tell me why and then I’ll leave you alone.” His voice is monotoned without any traces of emotion and it’s scary how much of a good actor he can be. It spikes anger in your guts in return - for him to dismiss it just like that. You don’t want him to leave you alone. Is he blind? Why can’t he see it?

“Because, Bravo. I can’t stand another second pretending we don’t know eachother in public while at home you practically whine for me to not leave. I am tired of pretending that I don’t care when you flirt with other people. I am tired of pretending that what we have between us is just some “let’s fuck” deal. I am tired of pretending that I don’t have feelings for you. And I am tired of pretending that you might care for me where in reality you clearly don’t.”

Your chest heaves and he looks at you as if you had grown a second head. The Dieter Bravo that has always something to say now falls quiet and it makes the insides of you burn with anger because how dare he walk into your life and fuck you, make you feel like he cares and when you finally confess just stare at you?

“You have nothing to say now, Bravo? Really? That’s oh, so great because-“

“Shut up.” He grits through his teeth and your mouth falls open. Did he just say you should shut up? Fuck him.

“Fuck you. Don’t tell me what to do you prick.” You jab into his chest, solid under your fingertips and he doesn’t even move a muscle as you do. ”I pour my heart out for you and you-“

You squeal when his hand moves on the back of your neck pulling you close, his mouth finding yours and he breathes you in. His eyes fall tightly shut as you moan into his mouth and his tongue strokes yours. It’s different than the other times you’ve kissed. It’s passionate and desperate - but not in a sexual way.

It’s intimate and his other hand slowly strokes your hip, his thumb smoothing the fabric of your dress and goosebumps erupt on your skin as you feel his rings on the back of your neck - digging into your flesh with the need to pull you closer into him. Your lower back collides with the counter and he hoists you up on it - your feet now dangling in the air as he pulls his mouth away from yours and settles between your legs.

His eyes are soft and his thumb strokes your cheekbone, a soft smile on his lips makes your heart do a somersault in your chest. His forehead bumps with yours and you smile too when he whispers: “I have feelings for you too, sweetheart.”

And then he is kissing you again, his hands finding the zipper of your dress before he expertly pulls it down and the material of it pools at your waist, his hands instantly coming to hold your tits, his thumbs stroking your nipples and the cold of the rings makes you gasp. He smiles into your neck, his mustache scraping you as he trails soft kisses from your jaw to the juncture of your neck and bites you there, your keen into his touch as you moan, his tongue soothing the assaulted flesh with ease. He is quick to undress you completely -the dress falling onto the ground and he kneels on it, his mouth kissing your inner thighs, his teeth scraping you, his hands exploring and mapping your body before they settle onto your hips as he taps two times so you’d lift up a little. He hooks his fingers into your panties before they are off you too and he is kissing your mound.

Your hands fall into his slicked hair and he moans when you grab him by it and pull him closer to your cunt, his fingers quickly finding their way into his mouth before he pulls them out and shows you the saliva-covered digits as the ring shines with it before he slowly enters you with two of them and you throw your head back, your grip tightening in his hair as he kisses your clit.

The pass of his fingers inside you is slow, languid as if he had all the time in the world and wasn’t just fucking you in the restroom of Met Gala. It makes your core floods with arousal - that anybody could hear you two. His fingers dig into your hip while his others work their way in and out and before you know it he is babbling into your core - his hot mouth still lazily kissing your clit, his tongue poking out to lick you.

“You dirty little girl. This is what you wanted, right? Is that it, sweetheart? You wanted me to fuck you where anybody could hear?” You squeeze around him, your fingers digging into his scalp and he hisses your name, his cock aching in his shorts as the only thing he can do is hump the air. “Oh, you like that. You dirty little thing. You’d want me to fuck you somewhere anybody could walk in?” You whine and nod, looking down at him and he smirks. His eyes glazed as you watch his tongue lick you slowly. Because he knows you have a bit of exhibitionism kink - he figured out when he fucked you against the glass walls of his apartment telling you what a “Dirty girl you are. Letting me fuck you where anybody could see the two of us.” You came almost instantly when the words left his mouth and he kept this information in the back of his mind.

Your thighs shake around his head and that’s when your mouth opens into a silent “o” as he spits onto your pussy and slurps at you, the filthy sounds coming from him making your inside squeeze him tighter and you can feel that you are close, your eyes rolling in the back of your head when you feel the deep rumble coming from his chest.

Dieter Bravo was godly at eating out pussy and he enjoyed it too. You can feel it even now as he enthusiastically pulls his fingers in and out of you, speeding the movements of his tongue and fingers when you squeal, your toes curling and he knows he found the spot. It only takes two or three passes of his tongue before you are cumming and he grins into your mound when you try to push his head away. He takes the fingers that were in you mere moments ago into your mouth to “clean his rings” before he is pulling them out and kissing you - the taste of you on him makes you kiss him deeper, your tongue tracing his teeth and he smiles into the kiss.

“I like it when you are jealous.” You want to protest - tell him you aren’t. Lie to him. Rile him up. But he puts you back on your jelly feet and you are met with your fucked out expression. He isn’t any better though - his pupils blown back wide and his slicked hair disheveled because of you.

He crowds you in - his hard cock that still strains in his shorts presses against your bare cunt and you moan, your head falling back onto his shoulder. The fabric of his shorts makes your thighs tremble and you are sure if he keeps this up you will cum again. Your hazy brain stops working alongside your mouth when you say: “I want to ride your thigh tonight while I hold onto the coat. You look so good in that outfit.” And he stops. You hear a choked sound behind you and then the zipper of his shorts before you feel the fat head of his cock notching at your entrance.

“Yeah, fuck yeah, sweetheart. You can ride your sweet pussy on my thigh when we get home. Want you to soak my thigh. Fuck. Want you to get off on it while I watch you.” He whimpers as he slides his head between your pussy lips. When he enters you it knocks the air out of your lungs. No matter how many times you two fuck, you will never get used to the size of him.

His fingers dig into your hip as he sets relentless pace, his hips smacking against your ass and his other snakes into your hair and tugs at it harshly -making you open your eyes and your gaze meets with his in the mirror.

“Yeah, watch how I fuck you. You are so filthy, sweetheart. Letting me split you open right here on my big fat cock.” He spits.

You watch as your tits bounce with every pass of his cock. You see his throat bob and the small droplet of sweat running down his temple. You see the vein on his neck is now prominent, his teeth barred for you two to see as he looks down where you two join and he moans -his head falling back and his hand that was gripping your hair now pinching your nipples. He is attentive and he can feel you squeezing him again. He knows you're close and he grinds against you -his pubic hair stimulating your clit and he grabs you by the throat, his teeth catching your earlobe. You feel the puffs of air leave his mouth. It’s hot and sweaty and you swear you never felt this good in your entire life before.

“Watch how I fuck you silly with my cock. Who do you belong to?” You cry out when a particular rough thrust makes you see stars and he groans as you squeeze him. He is close too, sweating under the coat and shirt. “Come on, tell me, sweetheart.” He grits out and he sucks at the skin on your neck, marking you.

“Yours!” You cry out and he hums, his fingers squeezing around your windpipe tighter and your hand comes back to fist at his hair as you watch his ring-clad fingers hold onto you before you are cumming, tugging him by the hair closer so you can kiss him. It’s messy -teeth and tongues clashing together as he fucks you through it and when you part a string of saliva connects the two of you.

“Yes, that’s right. You are mine. And I am yours, sweetheart. Just yours.” It makes your heart constrict because yeah -he is yours. Yours. Your walls pull him tighter even though you already came and he chokes on air because he is so fucking close. And when you kiss him under the hinge of his jaw and whisper: “I love you.” He is a goner.

Because nobody ever loved Dieter. And you just said you did. And his heart swells because he loves you too. As much as Dieter can actually love somebody.

He cums with a hoarse groan of your name, his hand digging into your ass. He kisses your shoulder blade lazily before he calms down and pulls out of you - putting back on your underwear. And helping you back into the dress. Neither of you looks presentable but neither of you seems to care.

“Want you to drip my cum all night and when we come home I want you to show me before you fuck yourself on my thigh.” Home.

He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips before he checks himself out in the mirror - trying to fix his hair, unsuccessfully, before he leaves you in the bathroom with a silly grin on your face.

You couldn’t wait to get home.

TAGS: @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @completelyoverit @cutesyscreenname

[a-killer-obsession]

Fuck it,

👒Strawhat sex headcanons

cos I'm absolutely on deaths door sick rn and I just wanna drabble my thoughts

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

Luffy

Ace and entirely ignorant of anything. Come on now, you saw him on Amazon Lily. Next!

Zoro

Fucks, but half the time leaves lovers unsatisfied. Falls asleep immediately so he doesn't even see their grumpy pout. Bisexual but leans towards men

Loves to deep throat, giving and receiving

Always rough

Pretty even spilt between top and power bottom

Loves impact play, giving and receiving

Loves public sex, will absolutely keep going if he gets caught. Same goes for masturbation, even if Sanji starts kicking the shit out of him while he's still going

Nami

Gay gay lesbian gay. Loves those ladies! Big fan of tits especially

Fingerbangs like her life depends on you cumming. Call her the Squirtbringer TM

Loves to use toys on her lovers, especially vibrators and butt plugs. Loves to see her girl with a pretty sparkly diamond plug

Kinda vanilla otherwise though

Top for sure

Ties some absolutely stunning shibari

Usopp

Straight but what a ally fr. Respectful AF

Gets flustered so fucking quick if you flirt with him though so you'd have to be so fucking foward to get him in bed. You'd have to be practically riding him before he stops being a blushing mess

Actually pretty good in bed though, decent size and stamina. Never misses hittin that spot yah know? 😎

More vanilla than angel cake though, and will absolutely chicken out if you ask him to spank you

Talks big talk though. Good with his mouth at both ends

Switch but don't expect him to be a dominant top

Doesn't know the meaning of a quick fuck, this man ✨️ makes love ✨️

Sanji

Straight, for sure, don't mention that time with the waiter boy, or that time with that very muscular male customer, or that time when he-

Anyway *cough* loves having anything in his mouth. Practically begs to have his face sat on, can absolutely cum untouched from that alone. Sometimes gets so into it that he forgets he's supposed to put it in at some point and just ends up eating you out for literal hours till you have to literally rip him off

Don't mind the blood nose :P

Cums so quick once he's in that its frankly embarrassing, but he'll keep going after, for you~

Walk him like a dog 🐕 this boy is a BOTTOM

Absolutely has a praise kink

Needs it to be romantic every time or he WILL pout. He'll give you a quickie if that's really what you want but he prefers to take his time, set the mood, make you a nice cocktail and light some candles

The first time you play with his ass he'll act like he hates it, but then he'll end up shyly asking you to do it again

Wants zoro to destroy his ass

Chopper

MINOR, NEXT!

When he grows up tho... he is a deer... he likes deer... maybe a mink would be ideal actually

Robin

Oh she for SURE fucks

Pansexual but prefers older lovers

Loves to be a soft dom, big time into forcing orgasms out of her partner and teasing them

Open relationship with Franky, loves to play good cop bad cop with him and a sub (with her as good cop)

Abuses her devil fruit for sure, turns her partners into overstimulated, fucked out messes

Loves to ride faces but is also very skilled at giving blowjobs

Has no issue eating ass

No kinks are taboo to her even if she's not into it, she'll give everything a go though, for research

Really skilled with shibari, shares notes with Nami all the time

Reads a lot of bodice rippers and quite literally takes notes, like she fully has a notebook of things she wants to try and is working her way through it

Doesn't really care about getting off, she mostly just likes to watch other's get off. Sex is one big research project to her and shes more than happy to study

Franky

About as fucked up in bed as Wire, biggest deviant of the crew for sure. Wano afterparty you bet they had a long indepth conversation to compare notes, and Wire was happy to show Heat off for him and Robin

Bi with a preference for women

Has all manner of toys and furniture, probably made most of them himself

Usually a hard dom, but unlike Wire he has no problem being a bottom as well

He is a ride you will not survive, your wheels will come right off

Loves risky public sex (fic coming soon 😎)

You better believe when he rebuilt his body he gave himself the biggest dick you'll ever see, its ribebd for your pleasure and it ABSOLUTELY vibrates

Don't expect to be able to walk afterwards, but he's an aftercare king 👑

Brook

May not have the facilities to get off, but still enjoys watching

Often watches Robin and Franky, especially if they're playing with a sub. Sometimes he'll join in with a toy because he's hesitant to push raw bone against a lover (ha, bone) but usually he just watches

Plenty of imagination though, sometimes he'll tell Franky and Robin what to do, more in a suggestive way than a dominant way

I imagine he would feel sexual enjoyment the same way one might enjoy a good cup of tea. He may not be able to get physical relief but he still enjoys the mental tingle

Before he died he was a massive slut though, rockstar vibes, every carnal disease you can think off. Was big into having his face ridden and sex under the influence

Too old to understand labels but if you really took the time to explain he'd probably say he was pansexual

Jinbei

This one goes out to my homie 💖

Straight but has no problem with it if swords happen to cross. Which is just as well, since there's canonically two of them 🍆🍆 He'd also never suggest a threesome, but he'd say yes if you suggested it

Also enjoys watching along side Brook. They call it "Oldies Night" when the four of them get together to watch Franky and Robin destroy some sub

Super respectful! Will constantly make sure you're comfortable and allow you to guide him to do whatever feels best

Not big into kinks but happy to explore them if it makes you happy. Won't do anything that'd inflict pain though, even if you beg for it, he's too big of a softie

Has that deep generational sense of taboo and shame instilled in him that makes it hard to get him to open up about what he wants. You'd have to have been together for a really long time to get him to be honest. Even so, makes you feel completely comfortable sharing your own kinks and never ever makes you feel ashamed even if he's really not into it

Eventually you'll get him to reveal that he enjoys being edged and cockwarming

Not a big fan of young girls fawning over him cos of his ex-Warlord status. Much prefers women his own age. No real preference for basic humans vs fishmen vs even minks, they're all human in his books

God he's so strong though, given how much bigger he is than most woman he will straight up use you like a cocksleeve if you ask him to, I absolutely would, dear god

Never leaves a partner unsatisfied, but I think he'd avoid giving oral cos he'd be so anxious about his teeth and he never wants to hurt a lover

[riotlain]

Hi-hi!! As a nonbinary, your stuff makes me so happy(I’m so used to having to suck it up and read fem!reader fics 😔)

I saw your fluff alphabet for damian wayne, and was wondering if you could do one for the other batboys?(preferably dick?)

Good morning USA. I’ve got a feeling that it’s gonna be a wonderful day.

MLM BLOG !! WOMEN DNI

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Dick is a pretty active guy but also very flexible (Yes in every way). Staying in? Works for him! Fancy date? He’ll probably end up spoiling you.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Physically? I’d say his favorite parts about you are your hands. He’s a physically affectionate guy ok. If you paint your nails he would probably eat that shit up.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

In my opinion I think he would be the type to try and distract you when you’re down. Favorite show/movie, snacks, everything you like.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Family type. If you don’t want actual kids then you get a dog or some sort of pet. Nice house or apartment in Bludhaven.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Depends on the situation. When it comes to your safety and well being, he will be dominant. Something small like what’s for dinner or what to do for the day he would be more passive but will take the lead if you can’t decide.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

The forgiver. He is bad with his own emotions, covering them with jokes and sorta pent up, so in arguments he can easily say something he would regret. He would apologize very soon after though.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He is grateful but sometimes isn’t as aware of all you do for him.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

At first, yes. Being the kid of Batman and being Nightwing is his biggest secret. He also tends to mask how he’s feeling with jokes or something similar and struggles with sharing his emotions.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You help him grow as a person. Help him become more open.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Yes sometimes but also he knows how to make you swoon. Someone flirts with you? He’s there to top that x2.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He has experience, yes.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Being nervous confident at your door with a bouquet of flowers.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Yes but also no but yes. He would propose after a ‘Perfect Day’, being a fancy dinner date and other things you like. The marriage wouldn’t be too big, mainly just the Batfam, maybe the Kents, also his friends.. Maybe a little big if you consider how many people he’s friends with.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Babe mostly and occasionally doll but will do the really cheesy ones when he’s feeling cheeky.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He is a hopeless romantic. He is a little obvious about his crush and his brothers all know just because of how much he talks about you. He expresses it mainly through gifts and physical touch. Maybe the occasional flirt.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Yes and yes. He loves showing you off to his family and doesn’t mind PDA. He doesn’t overdo it don’t worry.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Thanks to being raised in a circus, he’s a great entertainer! It’s hard to be bored with him.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Hopeless romantic. He knows what you like and how you like them. Typically pretty cliche but will go outside of the box often.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Your number 1 supporter!! Hes there to help you every step of the way and cheer you on! (Yes it’s the same as the Damian ask bc same goes for him)

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

He loves trying out new things! Flexibility is his middle name.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Empathetic and knows you well. He has a mental list of things that make you tick and things you love.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

You’re very important to him he would actually die for you. But also if you told him he couldn’t say, be Nightwing anymore that would probably fuck him up.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Loves circus dates. If you are fearful of clowns bro it’ll be gone when you’re dating him because he LOVES circus clowns.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Yes very affectionate, loves physical affection.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Hoodie stealer. Also scrolls through pictures of you guys on his phone and may give you a call.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Would in fact die for you man like you. Bulletproof love like Pierce the Veil.

[deanobear67]

”It’s okay to not be okay.”

—————————————————————————

Drowning in your own thoughts is hard to share with others. Especially when you have no idea how to explain them. Thankfully dean understands fully.

—————————————————————————

warnings - fluff, comfort, Anxiety is mentioned, overwhelming thoughts, sadness, mild angst

Dean x gn!reader (mostly)

There is one sentence where he refers to the reader as she. Also the readers hair is long enough to put behind their ear.

Thank you for overwhelming support on my first fic!! I’m not sure how often I’ll post but i’m going to try to post every once and awhile!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were staring blankly at the tv in the ‘dean cave’, as you sink into the couch. A small blanket covered half of you, keeping you from feeling the cold air of the bunker. The lights were low, making the room feel like it knew what you were feeling. Miracles head was in your lap as he laid beside you.

You forgot he was even there for a minute. Too distracted by the running thoughts in your head. You were surprised he followed you in here a couple hours ago. Usually it’s rare that he leaves Deans side.

He sensed your emotions like dogs do. Gently pushing his nose into your thigh every now and then trying to comfort you. Your hand subconsciously petting his head as you zoned out again. 

Not even a few minutes later, Miracle popped his head up from your lap. His ears arched as he listened to something. You look towards the cracked door as you hear soft footsteps echo in the hallway. Dean entered not long after, looking between you and the tv.

You felt guilt flood your stomach as you had no excuse for why you weren’t in bed. Except your anxiety keeping you awake, making you feel embarrassed about it. Even though it wasn’t embarrassing at all….was it? 

You could tell he just woke up not long ago. The sleep around his eyes now fading as he grew more concerned. His gray robe thrown over a black shirt with a pair of scooby-doo pj pants you got him, Halloween edition. 

“Hey” Dean said quietly as he sat next to you on the couch. He reached out to pet miracle who moved to him excitedly. “Hey” You replied after a minute of watching the interaction.

You went back to the tv as your hands laid in your lap unsure what to do. You could feel his warm gaze knowing he was finding the right words to say. 

“Can’t sleep?” Dean muttered after a minute not expecting you to answer. You nodded slowly after a moment. Looking down at your hands as you messed with them. You knew he wouldn’t judge you for your thoughts. You just didn’t know how to explain them. 

Dean continued to stare at you for the next few minutes petting the excited dog. “I get that….but I want you to know something.” He said quietly as he stopped petting Miracle. He reached over grabbing one of your hands gently to ground you. 

“It’s okay to not be okay…” He gently squeezed your hand as he caressed the back of your palm with his thumb. “Sometimes…that’s just how it is…..but you can’t hold it in all the time until it you can’t stand it anymore.” After a minute he chuckled to himself. “Hell maybe I should take that advice myself.”

You laughed with him as you felt a bubble in your throat appear. A few seconds pass in silence before he speaks again. “You know I worry about you.” He pauses to let out a breath. “And I know sometimes it’s hard to explain what you’re feeling.” 

He moved a bit closer, scooting Miracle out of the way gently. He let go of your hand to run it over your back. “Which I understand but I don’t…I don’t want you to shut me out all the time sweetheart.” You sighed softly as you adjusted yourself against the couch.

“Look at me please..” Dean asked softly as he placed his hand on the back of your neck. You hesitated as you felt the emotion build up in you after holding it in for so long. “Honey, look at me.” He said a little bit louder. You finally turned your head to look at him.

Dean smiled softly at you, gently putting a piece of your hair behind your ear. “There she is.” His smiled widened as he softly caressed your cheek. You couldn’t help but smile back but it quickly faded as you felt your lip quivering. 

You went to turn away feeling embarrassed again. “Hey” Dean gently grabbed your chin, turning you back towards him. “It’s okay…” He caress over your cheek again as he softly smiled. 

You felt the pressure build up in your eyes. You licked your dry lips as you stared at him, finally ready to give into the feeling. “I don’t know how to be okay.” You muttered through a broken voice as tears fell against your cheeks.

Dean frowned for a moment pulling you closer to him. “I know..” He whispered back to you. You wipe a few tears before he could. “I’m just tired of feeling like I’m alone at the end of the day.” You didn’t want to admit it to him but you did feel alone. Dean brought you love, protection and a feeling of home. Sometimes thoughts can seep in long enough to the point where you can’t ignore them anymore.

“Oh baby..” Dean muttered bringing you into his arms. He held the back of your head as you tucked yourself into his neck. He hated seeing you like this, hell it pained him too. “I’m here…I’m right here honey.”

He continued to caress the back of your head and back. “Let it out, I’m not going anywhere.” He muttered as he felt the tremble in your body against his hand. Eventually you soon calmed down, completely relaxed against him. You pulled back from his neck to wipe your face.

“Don’t apologize.” He whispered with a soft gaze knowing you were going to. You laughed softly before kissing his cheek. You laid your head back on his shoulder. His presence seeping into your loneliness, comforting you with its warmth. 

For tonight you decided to let him in again. Needing him to lean on, you let yourself accept the help. He covers you with the blanket you were using earlier. He decided to let you two stay like this for awhile before he would take you to bed. 

“I got you sweetheart” He whispered against the top of your head, holding you close. He felt his protective side kick in, trying to shield you from the thoughts of yourself for a bit. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ thank you so much for reading!! <3 :)

[iamgonnagetyouback]

can i request a asnowmance please? with someone from harry potter or one of the celebs if possible? 🤍

likes : music, taylor swift, rom coms, good food, books, i read and write too, learning new stuff, spending time with friemds and family, travelling and exploring, and shopping ofcc, im a Slytherin, both cat and dog person

dislikes: judgemental/ fake/ disrespecting/ rude/ inflexible ppl, wet clothes

fav movie: confessions of a shopaholic, harry potter movies

ideal winter date: staying in, cooking together, watching movies, spending tiime together

thank you so much 🤍🤍 happy 1k!!p🍰🍰

First off, thank you for the warm wishes and the delightful ask—don’t worry at all, I love how detailed this is!

ivy's 1k celebration ⛄️ navigation ⛄️ fandoms

ˋ°•*⁀➷ DRACO MALFOY

For your Snowmance, I’d pair you with none other than Draco.

You two together? Chef’s kiss. He’d admire your knack for coding and IT (though he’d be a bit bewildered by it at first), probably bragging about how brilliant his partner is to anyone who’d listen.

Draco would secretly love watching you shop for jewelry, his smirk softening as he noticed how your eyes light up when you find the perfect piece. He’d also absolutely be your biggest fan when you try your hand at new things, always ready to encourage you (with a side of teasing, of course).

For your ideal winter date, it would be staying in at Malfoy Manor (or a cozy villa on a snowy mountain if he’s feeling extravagant). You’d cook together—though Draco would mostly stand around dramatically complaining about how you “chopped that carrot incorrectly” while sneaking bites of everything.

Afterward, you’d curl up on the couch under a ridiculously fluffy blanket to watch Confessions of a Shopaholic or a classic rom-com, with your favorite snacks and drinks nearby. He’d spend the night both rolling his eyes at the romantic clichés and secretly loving how happy they make you. With his sly grin, he’d pull you closer, saying, “This is tolerable only because it’s with you.”

[novichokz]

Hi! This is my first tumblr post and I decided to make an nsfw Shigaraki abc. I am taking writing requests so don’t be shy to ask for something bc I love to write different ideas!

I don’t own the character, nor the template for this! Please don’t copy my work or I’ll be really sad 3:

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tomura would probably get up after panting like a dog for a minute or two and go back to playing League of Legends. When you get deeper into the relationship that’s when he starts to take care of you like getting a warm towel to clean you up with or cuddling to sleep. No snacks or water though. He probably hoards that shit.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn’t have a favorite part of himself really. But if he had to answer, he’d pick his hands. Seeing you trembling under him while being choked with just one finger off of your skin so he doesn’t dust you, he loves it. His favorite part of you? Thighs and tits. He tries to cum on them every chance he gets, and you better believe that they’re going to be marked up too.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Shigaraki is nasty with it. Any hole you got, he’s coming in it. Choking you with cum? Done it. Breeding you stupid with it? His favorite pastime besides gaming. Making you lick his dick clean after jerking off? Hell yeah.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He really wants a threesome with spinner and you, but doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable with asking that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Tomura doesn’t have a single clue about what he’s doing. That man is still a virgin at 21, hasn’t even touched a pussy since being born. But he quickly memorizes how to make you scream.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style and mating press. He def has bent you over his gaming desk at least once.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really depends. If he’s had a bad day, he’ll crack sadistic jokes. It’s not to make you laugh or lighten the mood, he’s just mouthing off. If it’s been a decent day, he’ll stay serious. Instead of hearing him say how he’s going to behead some thug while making a joke about it, you hear whines and grunts.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He does NOT groom himself your honor. The only time he’s shaved is when you do it for him. If you don’t, he lets the bush grow without shame.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) again, it depends. Bad day? He’s fucking you like the only fleshlight he will ever have. A nice and calm day? You can probably feel your teeth rotting from how fluffy he is in the moment.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jorks it a lot. With or without you there. Sometimes he’ll even make it into a game to see how long you can watch him jerk off before you beg to get dicked down.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, mommy AND daddy, choking, danger play, biting, hair pulling, bondage, and I think he’d like risky stuff like public sex and shit like that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In bed mostly. It’s the easiest for him. But he’ll fuck you anywhere if he’s in the mood and you ask.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. Literally just you. What really gets him to pop a boner is you in a cosplay of his favorite video game character or you in pjs when you just woke up.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don’t think there is something that he’s not ok with doing, but if you said no to something, he isn’t going to do it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

It takes him a while to learn how to properly eat you, but when he does, he eats that cunt like a starving man. Getting head will result in him being a whiny and blushing mess.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Get you a man like Tomura who can do both, because he does do both. Fast and rough to the point you gotta beg for him to chill out at round 2 (he doesn’t chill out, he actually does the opposite.) he also sometimes likes to fuck you nice and slowly, making sure you feel every inch of him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t do them a lot with you, but he loves them. He loves it even more when you only get one round and he gets to tease you about getting more later.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’d fuck you anywhere and everywhere, I don’t think he’d say no to a fuck out in the open if you’re down for it. As for experimenting, he’s still up for anything. As long as you’re cool with it, he’s cool with it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The longest he’s gone is 5 rounds. But the average would be about 3.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Oh he loves them fuckers. I bet he has a full drawer of them. Straps, dildos, butt plugs, all of it. He loves to use them too, seeing how it makes you scream louder when he uses one makes him grin like a madman.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is unfair as FUCK. He’d subtly rub your clit in the middle of a meeting then not touch you or talk to you for hours.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s a whiny little shit. He’d fuck into you like a dog in heat and whine your name, a pet name, or “mommy/daddy” like it’s a prayer. Expect your eardrums to almost be blown out.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He really wants to fuck you while playing video games with random people. Mic on and everything. He wouldn’t even shut you up, just thrust into you and let everyone hear your moans as he fucks shit up in his game.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Id say he’s about 6-6 and a half when he isn’t hard. About 8 inches when he is hard. He has a few veins going from his base to his tip that you love to tease, it gets him to finish faster.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

You can compare Tomura to a teenage boy in a lot of ways, but the biggest comparison would be his sex drive. A gust of wind could go by and he’d pop a boner.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If yall have been in the relationship for long enough, he’ll stay in bed and fall asleep with you because you’re body warmth and soft snores lull him. If you’re just in the star of the relationship, he stays up for a few more hours and plays LoL, then comes to cuddle in bed with you.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tomura would probably get up after panting like a dog for a minute or two and go back to playing League of Legends. When you get deeper into the relationship that’s when he starts to take care of you like getting a warm towel to clean you up with or cuddling to sleep. No snacks or water though. He probably hoards that shit.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn’t have a favorite part of himself really. But if he had to answer, he’d pick his hands. Seeing you trembling under him while being choked with just one finger off of your skin so he doesn’t dust you, he loves it. His favorite part of you? Thighs and tits. He tries to cum on them every chance he gets, and you better believe that they’re going to be marked up too.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Shigaraki is nasty with it. Any hole you got, he’s coming in it. Choking you with cum? Done it. Breeding you stupid with it? His favorite pastime besides gaming. Making you lick his dick clean after jerking off? Hell yeah.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He really wants a threesome with spinner and you, but doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable with asking that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Tomura doesn’t have a single clue about what he’s doing. That man is still a virgin at 21, hasn’t even touched a pussy since being born. But he quickly memorizes how to make you scream.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style and mating press. He def has bent you over his gaming desk at least once.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really depends. If he’s had a bad day, he’ll crack sadistic jokes. It’s not to make you laugh or lighten the mood, he’s just mouthing off. If it’s been a decent day, he’ll stay serious. Instead of hearing him say how he’s going to behead some thug while making a joke about it, you hear whines and grunts.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He does NOT groom himself your honor. The only time he’s shaved is when you do it for him. If you don’t, he lets the bush grow without shame.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) again, it depends. Bad day? He’s fucking you like the only fleshlight he will ever have. A nice and calm day? You can probably feel your teeth rotting from how fluffy he is in the moment.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jorks it a lot. With or without you there. Sometimes he’ll even make it into a game to see how long you can watch him jerk off before you beg to get dicked down.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, mommy AND daddy, choking, danger play, biting, hair pulling, bondage, and I think he’d like risky stuff like public sex and shit like that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In bed mostly. It’s the easiest for him. But he’ll fuck you anywhere if he’s in the mood and you ask.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. Literally just you. What really gets him to pop a boner is you in a cosplay of his favorite video game character or you in pjs when you just woke up.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don’t think there is something that he’s not ok with doing, but if you said no to something, he isn’t going to do it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

It takes him a while to learn how to properly eat you, but when he does, he eats that cunt like a starving man. Getting head will result in him being a whiny and blushing mess.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Get you a man like Tomura who can do both, because he does do both. Fast and rough to the point you gotta beg for him to chill out at round 2 (he doesn’t chill out, he actually does the opposite.) he also sometimes likes to fuck you nice and slowly, making sure you feel every inch of him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t do them a lot with you, but he loves them. He loves it even more when you only get one round and he gets to tease you about getting more later.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’d fuck you anywhere and everywhere, I don’t think he’d say no to a fuck out in the open if you’re down for it. As for experimenting, he’s still up for anything. As long as you’re cool with it, he’s cool with it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The longest he’s gone is 5 rounds. But the average would be about 3.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Oh he loves them fuckers. I bet he has a full drawer of them. Straps, dildos, butt plugs, all of it. He loves to use them too, seeing how it makes you scream louder when he uses one makes him grin like a madman.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is unfair as FUCK. He’d subtly rub your clit in the middle of a meeting then not touch you or talk to you for hours.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s a whiny little shit. He’d fuck into you like a dog in heat and whine your name, a pet name, or “mommy/daddy” like it’s a prayer. Expect your eardrums to almost be blown out.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He really wants to fuck you while playing video games with random people. Mic on and everything. He wouldn’t even shut you up, just thrust into you and let everyone hear your moans as he fucks shit up in his game.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Id say he’s about 6-6 and a half when he isn’t hard. About 8 inches when he is hard. He has a few veins going from his base to his tip that you love to tease, it gets him to finish faster.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

You can compare Tomura to a teenage boy in a lot of ways, but the biggest comparison would be his sex drive. A gust of wind could go by and he’d pop a boner.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If yall have been in the relationship for long enough, he’ll stay in bed and fall asleep with you because you’re body warmth and soft snores lull him. If you’re just in the star of the relationship, he stays up for a few more hours and plays LoL, then comes to cuddle in bed with you.