#lana x reader

[frickingnerd]

yandere lana skye

pairing: lana skye x gn!reader

tags: pre-sl9!lana (+some post-sl9!lana at the end), mentions of ema, overprotective girlfriend!lana, locking reader away (tiny bit)

even during her time as a detective, lana has already experienced loss that scarred her immensely

after her parents died, she vowed to never let anyone she loves die or get hurt ever again!

especially not you, her beloved darling, who lana is so determined to protect from any harm that comes your way!

lana doesn't like it when you visit her at work, as she believes her workplace to be one of the most dangerous places you could be!

she's always happy to see you, she just can't help it, but she'll scold you nonetheless if you pay her a surprise visit!

lana isn't the most jealous yandere and if she knows the people you spend time with well, she usually doesn't mind them being around you!

she's only bothered by strangers being a bit too friendly to you, fearing they might have ulterior motives…

lana also tries to make you get along with ema! her sister means a lot to her and she knows that ema is the most trustworthy person she knows, so if lana can't keep an eye on you, she knows ema can!

lana knows ema isn't a threat to your relationship and is actually your biggest supporter!

while lana is already overprotective, after the events of sl9, she'll become even more protective of you!

during the first few days, she doesn't even want you leaving the house without her by your side! and should you refuse, she doesn't hesitate to abuse her power and lock you away for a while!

only to keep you safe, of course…

[suvidrache]

Lana Relationship Headcanons

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 148 | Read it on AO3 | Tag List

Lana has no experience in being in a relationship aside from a friendship. 

He assumes that they both aren't much different. So, in the beginning, he treats you how he treats his friends.

He doesn't realize that there's a little more to it. 

He would love to do your outfits if you let him. He'll do whatever makes you look good, and if you aren't into the whole matching outfits thing, that's okay! He has an idea of different outfits, but they still go together. 

He would probably be heartbroken if you didn't want him making you any outfits (at all). 

Oh, and if you wear makeup, he would absolutely do it for you - if you let him.

He wouldn't mind if you chose his outfit for him or did his makeup.

PDA, depends on the situation. He isn't really against it, but isn't exactly for it either.

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

Tag List: @eli-chris

[th4saapobangpo]

⋆Lana del Rey Masterlist⋆

Minors DNI !! ✮= Fluff, 🪽= Angst,♜= smut,🎧= Platonic friendship,🧸= lesbian,€= Yandere,🕶️= age gap .. etc

Moodboard's

*Yet to create some*

One shots

*Yet to write some*

Full Stories

*Yet to write some*

drabbles

*Yet to write some*

headcanons

*Yet to write some*

disclamer: Please acknoledge, that the person above will only be shipped with my oc's which are of the same gender as her !!

[safic4-m]

❤️🚬I would love that

Pairing: Lana Winters x Fem Lector

Author's Note: I'm tired of being single, I wish my crush would listen to me, but well we don't always get what we want, so it's time to force love...haha no

Number of words: 523

~Master list~

One-shot

Wattpad

When she was a child her parents took her to the theater as a child and that habit stayed with her until she grew up.

This time she was witnessing an adaptation of the phantom of the opera, in one of the highest points of the work appeared a dancer who followed the rhythm of the main piece, to tell the truth she looked a little out of place but everything changed when she also began to interpret the main piece but with a violin.

She looked heavenly playing the composition with fluid and elegant movements while she kept dancing to the rhythm, as if her life depended on it.

When she finished she received a standing ovation from the audience for the great performance she had offered them, thanking the audience before the curtain closed.

Lana had been fascinated with that woman even though her appearance was short she managed to captivate his heart making him wonder if he would ever see her again.

That was 2 months ago since he then Lana went every Friday night to the theater in the hope of seeing her again.

During that time span he met a woman at the coffee shop he went to every day, T/n was a ballet dancer he often saw her at the place and after the passage of time he had managed to strike up a friendship with her.

Swan Lake was always her favorite but this time she didn't pay much attention to what was going on as her gaze was on The Black Swan. Although she could not see her face well she was sure it was her, she could feel it, all the other dancers were doing a good job but she was different, she stood out from the rest.

At the end she had gone backstage to try to look for that mysterious woman.

-You can't be here,- said one of the girls as she noticed the presence of the brunette.

-I'm looking for a friend,- she lied, taking the opportunity to find the woman.

Just when she was about to give up and leave the place, she found you talking to a classmate.

-Y/n?

-Lana,- you say happily, -what are you doing here?- confused at her appearance.

-I know it sounds weird, but I wanted to meet the person who played the black swan,- feeling stupid for what she was doing.

-Why?- you ask, suppressing a smile.

-Two months ago I came to see the Phantom of the Opera and there was a dancer on the stage playing the violin while the main piece was going on, I must admit I was fascinated with her interpretation and I'm sure she is the same one who played the black swan- explaining you her situation.

-Well...nice to meet you, my name is Y/n, I'm the black swan-, offering her your hand.

You only see a strong blush cover the face of the brunette before your words, she had literally just confessed her interest for the dancer who happened to be you.

-I must admit that I also have feelings for you,- you confess seeing a smile on her face.

-Would you like to go to dinner?,- he proposes, regaining a bit of confidence.

-I would love that

[stxrsiren]

manifesting a pretty masc girlfriend that plays guitar

[girlkisser13]

diet mountain dew

"you’re no good for me" "but baby, i want you, i want you, i want you"

pairings: klaus mikaelson x human fem!reader

warnings/tags: smut (18+), blood kink, blood sharing, unprotected sex (practice safe sex guys), creampie, needy klaus.

summary: you let klaus feed on you.

you'd expected him to be hungry. you just hadn't realized how ravenous he was, nor what drinking blood did to him.

"f-fuck, ah— c-careful," you gasped.

your voice echoed in the empty room, and his pleasurable grunts echoed with it. it was so dark that you could barely see a thing. you winced, again, from the strange new sensations surging through your body.

"ah— c-careful, klaus, please" you squeaked, it was the only sound that could escape your throat as he clamped your shoulder in his jaw. your neck was soaked, smeared in spit and blood, a leftover gift from when he had searched for the safest spot to drink.

he'd settled on the spot between your collarbone and neck, and there his teeth had sunk in.

with his fangs pierced right down to the bone and his lips bruising your skin, he continued to carefully suck your blood out and into his mouth. it felt like heaven, warm and wet sliding down his throat. to you it was a confusing mix of pleasure and pain.

"a-ah... is—is it, okay?" you whimpered.

klaus let out a low moan in response.

you couldn't move. you were clamped in his jaw, the jaw of a predator designed to keep its prey still, and his body was pinning yours to the cold wood of the floor.

to any passerby you would have looked terrifying. his body was obscured in the dark, appearing as just a hulking, bloody shadow, merging and distorting the outline of your own form; the visage of a monster in the night, consuming the body of a frightened human.

but that wasn't how you saw it. no, you were in the thralls of absolute delight.

one of his hands were on your waist, his fingers carefully drawing you up until you were held taut beneath his body, and the other hand was feverishly groping your tits.

he had torn your dress to feed and then tore a little further, leaving your skin bare right down to your ribs. he was squeezing, stroking, his thumb desperately massaging your nipple. he wanted to hear your whimpers, your soft jolts when he overstimulated that sensitive spot.

you felt him sink down between your legs, his hardened bulge thick and round as it nudged at your bare thigh. he was softly grinding it up against your panties.

you'd never do this, never. this wasn't like you at all. but you were doing it now.

you were mewled as he dry-humped your little body.

your breath was ragged, the soft puffs of condensation from your lips turned a ghostly white by the pale light.

feeding had always been a euphoric experience for him. but now, with you, it had become a full body orgasmic experience, feeding every positive stimulus in his brain and body.

every nerve in his body was on fire in the best way. his body was pulsing, pumping. his arms were covered in goosebumps, his dark hair standing on end, and his cock was painfully erect beneath his pants.

he needed relief. he needed more.

"mmm... mmm," his muffled groans got louder as he continued to feed.

his conscious brain was fighting those deep, vampiric urges, the need to indulge in pleasure no matter the consequences, but his subconcious was primal.

if he had his way he'd drain everything, slowly, all while pumping between your legs into your pretty little cunt, but he couldn't allow that.

you were a sweet, naïve thing, you'd just let him take you up here. your whimpers were heaven, but your softness was too pure for him to fully ruin.

so he forced himself to break a part from you.

he withdrew his fangs and pulled back, revealing the purple, bruised skin of your shoulder. he licked the wound clean before forcing himself away.

"please, please, if you—if you give me your wrist, i—i'll be done, and—"

klaus paused to pant, his lips still stained red. you watched your own blood drip down his chin.

"and, if i could... have you, in another way, it may help to, calm my urges" he said, his voice husky and dark. you watched his eyes glimmer a bright gold. "may i have you?"

"yes," you instinctively blurted, he lunged forward and kissed you. his lips were hard, rough, and you could taste the metallic sting of blood on them. when he pulled back he looked overjoyed.

"good. good. come here, love," he ordered.

you jolted as he dragged your body forward. he carefully tore a hole through your dress and panties with his bare hands.

you shuddered as the cold air hit your bare and slick-coated pussy, but klaus didn't leave you bare for long.

he roughly manhandled you onto the ground before stripping out his suit, allowing his already erect cock to fall down hard on your clit. the sight caused a small, surprised noise to escape your throat, one that he relished.

he was slow, deliberately distracting you with his cock as he raised your wrist to his mouth. he kept you captivated as he carefully slid it inch by inch down your swollen clit, letting you feel every inch.

the pleasure of sinking both his teeth and his cock into you at once was enough to make him physically shake.

with a soft grunt he penetrated both.

your words were turned to gibberish as he pushed his cock in deep, until his pelvis was perfectly squished up against you. the moment your blood hit his throat he started to pump.

you were inside him, and he was inside you. on that filthy, cold floor, you were his.

he started to push his cock in tandem with his teeth.

as his fangs gently shifted beneath the skin, as his lips sucked and bruised, his fat cock gently slipped in and out of your cunt. for such a furious feeder he was a surprisingly gentle lover.

he was terrifyingly strong, that much was clear up close. he bent your thighs until they ached, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he held you in place, and with each push you could feel the power he was holding back.

you felt him pumping, drawing out your precious blood while his cock ravaged you from inside. each delicious slip, each pulsing throb, every time you felt his cock twitching for attention against your creamy walls, it was unbearable.

you were whining, your heavy breathes producing less and less ghostly condensation. klaus was panting furiously with each thrust, his breath condensing like smoke as he huffed through his curled nose. he was lost in the pleasure, the urge, the need.

and between the tightness, the heat, the copious oozing slick squelching and pooling around his bare skin and dripping off his balls as they smacked against your ass, mixed with the sound of you whining and the fresh blood in his body, he couldn't last any longer.

with a single, muffled groan, klaus came inside of you. his blue eyes rolled back and his body began to buck, smacking your hips until they went numb.

just as he felt your hot blood filling his mouth you felt his thick seed pooling and squishing its way into your cunt, filling every available space. it started to seep out as he continued to hump your limp body, now hanging in sweat, hot pearly strings between his pelvis and your inner thighs.

he pumped inside you until he was utterly spent, his own head now hazy and light, and at last he released you. your wrist fell limp to the floor.

klaus coyly wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist before brushing your forehead. "are—are you alright?"

the relief he felt when you shakily nodded was unmatched.

"thank you," he murmured, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "you were... delicious."

[2tarbell]

Can we have more of teacher reader and single dad rafe? Like maybe he catches another one of the students fathers trying to flirt with her during the teacher conference.

he would soooo be dramatic about it in his own special rafe way. it was just a parent-teacher conference, there was nothing wrong with her talking to the other guy. but what was wrong was how he was looking her up and down, slipping in flirtatious comments while she was trying to talk about his daughters grades.

rafe watched from the waiting area she set up in her classroom, knee bouncing with barely contained rage. his son was none the wiser — preoccupied with a coloring page she printed out for all the waiting students. she was sweet like that. she didn’t deserve the vulgarity of that douchebag’s stare.

but he knows how she wants to keep their relationship out of her work for now. and he understands that and respects that. so he goes through the motions of a casual conference. listening and casting looks over at his son when she compliments his reading quiz scores. her kitten heel clad foot bumps rafe’s shin, a small touch, but one that soothes some of the irritation simmering in him.

“i don’t know what you’re doing with him at home, mr. cameron, but i’m very pleased with his improvement.”

“well, uh— we’ve been going over his vocab list, doin’ what you suggested. it’s all thanks to you.”

her sweet smile and nervous twiddle of her pen makes a smirk twitch at his lips. she walks them to the door since they’re her last conference, causal small talk turning into their own specific flow. his sons pads down the hallway to the restroom, rafe promising to wait for him.

she leans against the door frame, blinking up at him and playing with the charm on her necklace (that he got her). she gives him a sweet little grin when he mentions the parent who was giving her ‘extra attention’.

“i was fine, rafe…”

“i really, really, don’t give a shit, sweetheart. he’s lucky kids were around.”

“you’re ridicul—“

he pulls her in by her belt loop, pressing a soft kiss to her chapstick covered lips. her hand finds its way to his chest, fingers dancing along the buttons of his plaid shirt. just wishing they were at his house and that she could pull them open. her lips part gently under his, a tease of his tongue against hers before it’s over all too soon.

they pull back slowly, breathless smiles on both their lips. they want to linger there together, want to stay in their own little bubble. if only. he leaves her with a squeeze of his hand, whispering a command hotly in her ear of promises to come:

“you tell me if he does that shit again, a’ight? know i’ll take care you…”

[casiia]

༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; pretty when you cry.

warnings .: smut, mdni 18+, v! penetration, kinda toxic simon.

.: masterlist.

simon riley who gets turned on when you cry. he feels like an asshole about it but he can’t help it, you’re just so pretty when you cry!

your passionate ranting stuttered by your sobs, tears just pooling in your eyes as you try to control your emotions. the second simon presses a hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing just under your eye, you stop thinking and let the waterworks run.

he’s frowning at the words that you express, listening closely to everything you’re saying. sure he’s getting hard but he’s a good multitasker — “i know, baby. how could they do that to you.” he’s nodding along, shifting in his seat and adjusting the tension in his pants.

simon’s gaze is stuck to your puffy lips, your saltwater tears making them slightly chapped. he’s pressing his thumb into your bottom lip, swiping over it and telling you to calm down and breathe; his thoughts running wild to the sound of your uneven gasps and hiccups, reminding him too well of how you sound underneath him.

the same tears that stain your cheeks when he's folding you over and stretching you out. he's comforting you again, in more ways than just words. "y'feel better, bun?" "still cryin'? my poor, baby."

he wants you to forget about the bad day that you had, hating that it'd been so terrible that you'd come to him in tears. simon thinks he's helping when he's slowly rutting into you, his touch so gentle and caring. he just wants to take care of you — make you cry for him in ways that both of you enjoy :(

[greengoblinswifey]

Love Story for the New Age- Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— your love story with nicholas unfolds amidst the chaos of fame and paparazzi as you explore NYC together.

warnings— nothing explicit. fluff, kissing, ass squeezing, established relationship, protective and sweetheart nicholas.

a/n— read while listening to National Anthem by Lana Del Rey, preferably the demo version but the released works <3

You walked down the bustling streets of New York, hand in hand with Nicholas, heads down, sunglasses shielding your faces from the curious eyes of passersby. Security followed a few steps behind, giving space but always watchful. The city's constant hum surrounded you, honking taxis, the chatter of people, and the distant murmur of traffic. New York a couple years ago seemed like a distant dream but here you were, on a casual day.

As you passed a cozy-looking restaurant, the smell of food made you glance up. Just then, a woman working inside recognized Nicholas, her face lighting up in excitement. “I love your work! You’re amazing!” she exclaimed, “you’re even better looking in person.”

He smiled warmly, still holding on to your hand. “Thank you,” he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You felt a wave of pride, seeing him appreciated for his talent and staying so down-to-earth despite his new found popularity.

The woman, clearly eager to please, offered, “Would you both like to skip the line? I can get you seated right away.” He politely declined, shaking his head. “No, thank you. We’ll wait our turn.”

You couldn’t help but feel proud of him in that moment. Despite his fame, he remained humble and grounded. As you stood in line together, your heart swelled with admiration, grateful for the man beside you who stayed true to himself, even with the world watching.

“I’m proud of you,” you smiled, looking up at him.

“I know you are baby, it’s nothing, I just did what I was supposed to.” Always so humble.

After waiting for a few minutes you were finally seated with the promise that someone would be with you to take your orders.

The cozy ambiance of the restaurant was a welcome break from the chaos outside. As you scanned the options, you smiled and decided on pasta, having heard rave reviews about the restaurant’s dishes.

“The last time I ordered pasta from a restaurant it was so bad, I swear to god if it’s bad again I’ll scream,” you groaned. Nicholas, still glancing over the menu, seemed to be carefully considering his choice.

Just as you were about to put the menu down, a sudden flash caught your eye. You blinked, confused, and glanced toward the window. Outside, a group of paparazzi had gathered, their cameras pointed directly at you both, flashing non-stop.

You gasped and turned to Nicholas. “Oh my God, did you call them? You didn’t call them, did you?” He shook his head, looking just as surprised as you. “No, of course not. Why would I do that? This is crazy.”

You let out a small giggle despite yourself, but the constant barrage of camera flashes started to get on your nerves. Annoyed, you shielded your face with your hand. Nicholas did the same, his jaw tightening as the flashing continued. Neither of you moved, trying to keep the moment from spiraling into full-blown chaos, but the attention was unsettling.

Finally, the waitress approached the table with a warm smile. She complimented your hair, making you smile despite the chaos around you, and then turned to your boyfriend.

“I have to say,” she began, “your acting in Monsters was incredible. I just love the show and sympathize with the Menendez brothers.”

Nicholas gave her a grateful smile, genuinely touched by the compliment. “Thank you so much, that’s really sweet of you,” he responded, his tone soft and appreciative.

“She’s sweet,” you added, after the waitress left with your orders written down.

You noticed, though, that the first woman who’d greeted you earlier had barely acknowledged your presence. It stung a little, but you brushed it off, focusing instead on the waitress’s kindness and his down-to-earth reaction.

Outside, the paparazzi continued to snap pictures occasionally, but the intensity had lessened. Now, they seemed content with waiting for the two of you to finish your meal, no doubt hoping for more shots or a word as you left.

“I used to think celebrities called paparazzi on themselves but you didn’t and here they are,” you chuckled, sinking into your seat.

“Me too baby,” he reached across and caressed your hand in his, “I know it’s annoying and feels stalkerish but I’ll deal with it.”

You were content with his response. Paparazzi was dangerous, growing up you believed they were responsible for Britney Spears’ despise, tormenting her and catching her at her most vulnerable moments. The media had a frenzy with the pictures they would capture and you didn’t want that for Nicholas. You didn’t want them to paint a false narrative of him like they did so many other famous people. They were inhumane.

After the food arrived, you dug into your pasta and instantly lit up. “Oh my God, this is so good, Nick!” you exclaimed, your eyes wide with delight.

Nicholas smiled at you, leaning in to take a bite from your plate. Just as he tasted it, there was another flash. The paparazzi had caught the moment right as he savored the pasta.

You giggled, shaking your head. “I hope they got our good side,” you teased, causing both of you to burst into laughter.

When the meal was over, you reached for your purse, ready to pay for both of you, but Nicholas was one step ahead. He had already slipped your card out earlier and left it in the car. “I wanted to pay!” you said, playfully annoyed, crossing your arms.

He grinned at you, shaking his head. “As long as you’re with me, you won’t even open your purse,” he said smoothly. “You don’t have to pay for anything. I’m your boyfriend, and I’m going to make sure you feel good, even with the little things.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help smiling at how sweet and protective he was. He left a generous tip for the sweet waitress, who looked genuinely surprised. “Oh my God, thank you! I really needed this,” she said, her voice full of gratitude. She admired the gesture, clearly moved by his kindness.

He smiled humbly, but you could tell he was proud of making someone’s day.

“You didn’t have to do that, but you really helped someone today,” you said, smiling up at him.

As you got up to leave, the paparazzi were still lurking outside, snapping more photos. You had an idea. “Let’s give them something to talk about,” you said, grinning at Nicholas. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

You both struck a sexy pose for the cameras. Nicholas stood behind you, his hand casually resting on your waist, but just as the flashes went off, he cheekily grabbed your ass. You both laughed, knowing that picture would be all over the tabloids in no time, regrettably but you posed none the less, your hands on his chest, looking lovingly at the fine specimen of a man before you then placing a kiss on his lips.

With the flashes still going, you headed to the car, your security team ensuring the way was clear. As you got in, the paparazzi tried to shove their cameras into the car for more photos, almost hitting you in the face with their cameras. Nicholas quickly turned, his protective side kicking in.

��Back off, get out of my girlfriend’s face!” he snapped, glaring at them. You couldn’t help but feel a rush from the way he defended you, a little turned on by his assertiveness.

You both laughed together, the adrenaline still buzzing. As the driver sped off, you watched as the paparazzi tried to follow, but soon enough, they fell behind. You and Nicholas shared a satisfied smile, knowing you’d outpaced them.

When you and Nicholas finally arrived back at the hotel, you sighed in relief, glad to be there safely. As the car pulled into the hotel’s private garage, the day’s chaos finally seemed behind you. Earlier, you had thought about how these wild paparazzi chases could be dangerous, remembering the tragedy of the woman you admired, Princess Diana. It was believed that the paparazzi played a role in that accident, a sobering reminder of how things could spiral out of control.

Now, though, the two of you were safe inside, away from the frenzy. You decided to stay in for the night, curling up together in the cozy comfort of your suite. After changing into something comfortable, Nicholas ordered room service, and you both settled down on the bed. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close as you watched a movie.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, before finding your lips. The kisses were soft and warm, a show of the love between you.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered, looking up at him. “For staying true to yourself today, even with everything going on. I love how grounded you are.”

He smiled at you, brushing stray curls behind your ear. “I wouldn’t want to do any of this with anyone else,” he replied softly. “I love you.”

As the night went on, you snuggled closer, feeling safe and loved in his arms. You reached for your phone, curious to what was brewing in the media. When you unlocked it, your eyes widened in shock.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, sitting up. Your boyfriend glanced over curiously as you scrolled through your feed. The pictures from the day had blown up all over social media. TMZ, The Shade Room, TikTok, everyone had caught onto the story. Headlines and comments were flooding in.

“This is the IT couple. This is a love story for the new age,” one article declared in bold letters.

People were raving about how happy they were to see Nicholas with a woman of color, and they couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful you were. You were overwhelmed, feeling both flattered and a bit surprised by all the attention.

He glanced at the screen, smiling softly before pulling you back against him. “You don’t need their compliments to know you’re beautiful,” he said, his voice low and affectionate. “I’m the lucky one. I get to be with you.”

You blushed, your heart swelling at his words. Leaning in, you kissed him gently on the lips before snuggling back into his chest. He planted another kiss on your forehead, and the two of you settled in for the night. Oh how you loved to be wrapped in the handsome man’s muscular arms.

[diorchids]

your purity is precious ! charlie mayhew.

father charlie mayhew who just can’t keep his filthy hands off you during private bible study lessons.

you’re sat on his lap. you two are just that close, there’s nothing abnormal about this. “father, you—you know a lot about this stuff,” you say, his fingers trailing toward your poor cunt, all wet and puffy under your panties. practically begging to be touched. “y-you’re very smart, father.” just give in, what’s so hard about it?

but you can’t.

his other one squeezes and kneads your soft, shapely breasts, fitting ever so perfectly in his rough and calloused hand. “you know,” he sighs in your ear, bulge pushing up against your plush ass, “your father never mentioned how beautiful you were, did he?” you hesitantly shake your head as he hooks his finger onto your panties and pulls them to the side. 

your lips part with a soft gasp as he drags his finger up your warmth, slickness spreading across your delicate parts. 

he leaned in closer, lowering his voice even more. “have you given your innocence away yet?” his breath was hot on your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

the question catches you off guard, of course, you haven’t, that’d be disgusting. no man would ever look at—let alone marry a woman without her virginity, especially in your town.

“no, father, i—i’m waiting until marriage. i’m still pure,” you whisper.

he groans and softly pushes up against your ass. so pure, you are. you follow the word.

you’re clean.

“good girl, keep it that way. your purity is precious. remember that.” he says in your ear, breath still warm against your skin, making you softly grind down on his fingers. 

“i will,” you repeat in your head, that saying. my purity is precious, my purity is precious, my purity is precious.

his thick middle finger circles your tight hole before slipping in slowly, you wince and bite your full lip, stifling a loud cry. he grins sadistically. a small amount of blood coats his finger, he runs his tongue over his lip in response. 

“and you haven’t,” he pushes his finger in more, focusing on that spongy spot within, “touched yourself?” he felt a stirring in his pants, his thick cock straining against his slacks, begging to be let out.

you tell him you haven’t; it’s mostly true. though one time you got a bit carried away with your pillow.

his grin widened mischievously. "you mean to tell me that beautiful, untouched body of yours is... a virgin in every sense?" his hand on your breast slowly started to caress it again, his touch gentle yet so… perverse.

it’s like he was hungry.

“yes, f-father.” your legs trembled slightly as he dug deep inside of your warm, inviting hole, so soft and tight. the priests' voice grew husky as he spoke, "you know, my child... when i was your age, i couldn't keep my hands off myself. i'd touch myself every chance i got, in the shower, under the desk at school... sometimes even at church."

he speaks as if he doesn’t still touch himself every single night. 

his finger curls inside you, and an involuntary whine escapes your lips. your clit felt all fuzzy, and your tummy tightened as you slowly began to move your hips back and forth on his finger, blood prickling on your lip from the pressure of your teeth.

“that’s it. riiight there, take it all, my child. make yourself feel good,” his voice completely shifted, so smooth and still so low. 

he pulled out of you quickly, bringing his sticky fingers to his mouth and sucking them disgustingly. his eyes rolled back while he did, and you felt his fat cock throb through his pants as he tasted your sweet nectar, with a hint of a metallic taste. your virgin blood.

his focus slowly turned back to you, and he slipped his finger back in without a word, just groans and sighs filling the room. “my child, you—you are… the most precious thing,” your cunt tightens around his finger, telling him you were inching closer to release.

the feeling in your puffy, red clit was so overwhelming, heat reaching every part of your body in a matter of seconds. another hand comes and touches it, rubbing and pushing down on it as tears begin brimming your eyes while you cry loudly, legs shaking uncontrollably at this point. 

your vision began to blur as you felt your tummy release the knot it’d been tightening since he’d started touching you. “oh, father! i can’t—i…” you went numb completely, thrashing as your sticky juices flowed out of your, now, used hole. your moans were obnoxiously loud, you’d let go all over your poor priest.

he didn’t stop there though, rubbing and bucking his hips against your soft ass until he gets what he’s been wanting for ages. he pushes his hips up against you one more time before whimpering softly and groaning, breathing warmly against you. 

you both sat there for a minute, dazed and coming to your senses before he urged you to make yourself decent and ushered you out of his room, leaving you with familiar words. 

“your purity is so precious, my child.”

[frickingnerd]

Hyrule Warriors Masterlist

Link

sleeping with link - headcanons

being link's travel companion - headcanons

link cooking with his clumsy s/o - headcanons

Zelda

zelda's s/o getting kidnapped - headcanons

being in a poly relationship with zelda and mipha - headcanons

being in a poly relationship with zelda and purah - headcanons

Ganondorf

the world is (y)ours - oneshot

Sheik

yandere sheik's darling rejecting her for zelda - headcanons

Impa

dating impa - headcanons

Lana

lana teaching her s/o how to use magic - headcanons

Linkle

first kiss with linkle - headcanons

Ghirahim

let me have a taste - oneshot

Tetra

tetra teasing you - drabble

[s-brant]

Three’s Company

When Patrick visits his best friend at Stanford University, Art’s new fling finds herself stuck between two very attractive men.

9k (18+)

Warnings: smut, threesome, unprotected p in v, double penetration, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, they’re all pervs, and strong language.

-

The room is stiflingly hot.

There is no air conditioning in her study/fuck buddy's dorm to keep up with the late April heat that has descended upon Stanford's campus so quickly. Three different fans are plugged into outlets around the cramped living space, yet it does little to keep her body cool enough to feel comfortable.

Sleeping with Art was an impulsive decision. The first time was merely weeks ago after he politely asked if she would share her notes from a class he was absent from. They exchanged numbers to organize the meeting, and she ended up talking to him for the better part of an hour in the dining hall. Although she did not recognize it as flirting—the oblivious little thing she is—he shyly commented on seeing her at one of her gymnastics competitions and refused to let her get dinner with her meal credits. Looking back, his intentions should have been obvious to her, yet she does not think badly of him over it. If anything, she likes how wanted he made her feel. He knew what he wanted and ensured that he got it.

They came back to his room to study—only to study, he claimed with his hands held up to proclaim his innocence—for their approaching final exams.

"Good," she said with a teasing lilt to her voice, slinging her bag onto her shoulder and turning to walk in the direction of his dorm building. "Cause it's way too hot to be doing anything else."

They were both laughing as he set down his racquet bag to unlock the door. It was muffled through the wall, but Patrick heard it just fine from where he was perched on the foot of Art's bed with Tears for Fears playing on the unlabeled CD he dug through desk drawers to find. The sound of a distinctly feminine giggle made his mouth turn up at the corners in a smirk. This will be fun to tease his closest friend over until his cheeks flush pink and he has to hide his face in his shirt.

When the door swung open, the laughter died out as soon as they realized they weren't alone, but it was quickly replaced with wide smiles and warm greetings.

Patrick tried not to look her up and down so blatantly. Instead, he chuckled and said, "Art, you conveniently left out that you had a girlfriend on our last call."

To this, Art set down his bag and tackled him onto the bed, starting a minute-long wrestling match that only ended when they began to sweat from the heat and physical activity. It was then that Art remembered to have manners and introduced her. He scrambled to sit upright on the mattress and met her curious gaze.

"Y/N, this is Patrick. I'm sorry, I forgot what day he was coming."

She smiled.

"It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." A pause, and then she turned her attention to Art. "Do you wanna study another time? I don't wanna intrude or anything."

Before Art could open his mouth to tell her to stay, Patrick aimed one of his charming grins at her, then said, "No, please intrude. I'll just hang out. You won't even know I'm here."

The last sentence caused a disbelieving scoff to leave Art’s lips.

As of right now, as she sits on the chair in front of the desk and the boys share the bed, they have gotten halfway through the study guide they meticulously constructed after one of the two classes they share, but it grew boring once an hour and a half passed. They typically end up getting distracted and make out by now, but with Patrick here, neither of them considers that an option. So, she suggests they take a half-hour break to sit, drink, and talk to allow their brains to decompress from the constant stimulation.

He already had a few beers inside the mini fridge beneath his desk, along with a hard seltzer for her seeing that she finds the taste of beer disgusting but quite enjoys being drunk with him. Also kept in the freezer section of the fridge is a pack of ice pops she bought a few days ago when the heat wave began. They prove to be very useful right now as the midday sun bakes the building alive despite the closed curtains and blowing fans.

The CD has moved onto Nine Inch Nails, and she remains quiet to hear it over the sound of the fans as she holds a red ice pop to the side of her neck to cool herself off. Sometime along the way, both of them had stripped down to their underwear after asking her if it was alright because it was so hot. Patrick joked that he was alright with her taking her clothes off too, which she laughed at while Art playfully shoved him over it. Yet now she isn't laughing. Her small exercise shorts are as forgiving as any item of clothing could be in these circumstances, but the long-sleeve shirt she wore because it was the only clean one left is sticking to her skin.

"So, how did you and Art meet?"

Her eyes open to find Patrick glancing back and forth between them.

"It's a boring story, actually," she says. "He asked if I took notes for a class he missed, and now he's stuck with me all the time."

"No, no, okay, maybe it was boring from her perspective, but I was trying to work up the nerve to talk to her for at least a week before then. I went to one of her competitions and recognized her from class," Art explains. "She won, which wasn't surprising at all."

Although she already knew this, this is the first time he has admitted to it out loud, and her stomach flutters at the idea of him becoming so enamored with her from one glance. The popsicle is sweet on her tastebuds when she raises it to her lips and sucks with her eyes looking between them both. As she expected, Patrick shifts a little in place and looks away for reasons not at all related to how she was looking at them while sucking her popsicle.

She chuckles.

"So, you were just interested in befriending me 'cause I win a lot?"

Her tone of voice is taunting, but they know it's all in good fun. Art is quick to play along, shrugging his shoulders to feign aloofness and taking a quick swig of his beer before responding. Their eye contact grows intense in the seconds before he speaks.

"Well, there were some other contributing factors."

"Mm," Patrick hums in agreement. "I've never seen you compete, but you are really hot, so Art's right about that."

This makes her pause for a second, her gaze shifting to find Art's to see if his friend crossed any lines, but he appears strangely calm about it. What she doesn't know is that he has never had any problem sharing, at least, not with Patrick. They shared a room in boarding school, jerked off together to the same girl, and shared the court together—what was his would always be Patrick's, and what was Patrick's would always be his.

"You're flirting with me right in front of him?"

Art interjects, "I'd be shocked if he didn't."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he's standing up from the bed to get another beer. The dorm room is small, so it only takes a few strides for him to meet her where she sits before the desk and kneels down to open the mini fridge. His left hand braces itself on one of her thighs while the right swings open the fridge door only to find there is no beer left. Rather than complain, he simply grabs one of her least favorite hard seltzer flavors and gives her thigh a firm squeeze before standing up.

The bed creaks beneath his weight when he sits back down on it.

He settles into a comfortable position with his back against the wall and legs spread, balancing the seltzer can on his bent knee. Patrick sits close to him, and she finds it difficult to peel her eyes off the pair of them in their current state of undress. Her gaze mostly lingers on Patrick seeing that she has already explored every inch of Art's lean body in the plentiful amount of times they've hooked up over the past few weeks. But, that being said, she cannot resist looking at Art either. Having two beautiful men laid out before her in their underwear is a treat she never expected to indulge in today. They each have the strong, masculine figures of athletes—showing mostly in their shoulders, biceps, abdomen, and thighs.

When Patrick notices her staring, she turns her gaze to the floor to avoid the embarrassment of being caught. If he did catch her, though, he doesn't call her out for it. Not yet, at least.

With one last bite of her popsicle, she stands from the desk chair to toss it into the small trash can beside his nightstand. It isn't until she lets it go that she realizes how close she now stands to the two of them. Only a foot or so from the bed, her heart begins to hammer in her chest at the proximity.

The way she sees it, she has two options. The first would be to retreat to the desk to let her long-sleeved shirt give her heatstroke while the men get to sit in front of the oscillating fans with their shirts off, or she can strip down to her undergarments and join them on the bed. Needless to say, she opts for the latter of the two.

Y/N lets out an exaggerated groan at the heat and fans herself with her hands for the sake of appearing somewhat innocent in what she's about to do, then reaches down for the hem of her shirt with a huff.

Art and Patrick can do nothing but watch with rapt attention side by side as she pulls the fabric up her torso and over her head. The shirt ends up falling to the floor beside her feet alongside their discarded t-shirts and pants. This leaves her in her most comfortable bra—which is Art's favorite since her nipples can be seen through the mesh material—and a pair of tiny spandex shorts.

Patrick's tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight of her—almost angelic in her beauty—and tries to burn the image into his mind to hold onto forever. Definitely going in the spank bank, he thinks to himself as his cock begins to harden in his boxers. Beside him, Art has been stunned to silence. Even though they've fucked like rabbits since the first time, he isn't sure if he'll ever get used to seeing her like this. Those shorts hug the delicate curve of her hips, as well as that lovely ass that has been sculpted from years of training as a gymnast, and all he can think of is how badly he wants to take them off.

They sit there, dumbfounded, with their mouths hanging open just enough for her to notice and suppress an arrogant smirk. But to allow herself to smirk would be to reveal her cards, and she doesn't want them to see this as anything other than her innocently trying to cool down. Truth be told, she hasn't thought this through. It's not as though she planned this as she was sitting at the desk. It's more of an impulsive, irresistible urge. And if they will tease her so blatantly with their half-naked bodies, she is entitled to do the same.

"You," she says, jutting her chin in Patrick's direction. "Scoot. I wanna sit in front of the fans too."

Underneath it all, she's thankful that she took the time to do her hair the way that makes her feel the most confident and put a little makeup on. Not that either of them is focused on her damned makeup. No, they're far too busy ogling her figure to notice anything north of her collarbones.

After a delayed second of staring, what she said seems to register within him and spark him into action. He's quick to scoot closer to the end of the bed if it means she'll be inhabiting the small space between them. 

She offers a quiet, "Thank you," and crawls onto the bed, turning around and settling into place with her back against the wall. The cool air generated by the fans blows faintly against the front of her sweat-slick chest, and she can't help but shut her eyes and hum in appreciation of it.

With her eyes shut, Art and Patrick are both scrambling to quietly conceal their growing erections. If they don't, it'll be glaringly obvious when she opens her eyes and sees a tent in their underwear on either side of her. Although the life-long friends don't speak, there's an understanding formed between the two of them. Whatever she allows them to have of her tonight, if she allows anything, they'll share nicely. Patrick knows that if anything happens, he is to assume it is a one-time thing unless she or Art expresses a desire for an arrangement of some sort to be made.

Her eyes open again a few seconds later to find them staring at her.

Breaking the silence, she asks, turning her head left to right to address each of them, "Did your mothers never tell you it's rude to stare?"

Patrick doesn't miss a beat.

"Did you know it's rude to be a tease?"

The sound of Art sucking in a deep breath meets her ears, but she doesn't look away from Patrick. Their eyes are locked, and she can see the mischief present in his. It's almost as if he dares her to do something...like he knows that she wants him just as badly as he wants her. Part of her feels guilty, feeling like she should remain loyal to Art even though they aren't exclusive, but a much more dominant part of her desires it too much to resist the temptation.

"Patrick, don't pressure her. If she doesn't want to—"

Her head turning to look at him halts him in his tracks. The look she's giving him...

Much to his shock, she was a virgin when they met a few weeks ago. He questioned her relentlessly, claiming there was no way someone as beautiful, smart, and talented as her could've gone so long without doing it, but she held firm. It was the truth, he realized after she sheepishly relayed the story of how she made out with a basketball player on Halloween and wimped out before it could go further. That first night, she was a bashful, blushing little thing. He treated her with the tenderness and reverence she deserved, first making her come with his tongue and fingers before fucking her. It was so...intimate. Her nails dug into his shoulders when he made that first, breathtaking thrust into her. Just the thought of it was enough to get him hard the next day, but he knew not to expect anything after how shy she was the previous night. Little did he know, he awakened something within her, and from then on, she would be insatiable.

He almost got whiplash from how quickly she changed from a nervous, flushed-faced girl asking him, "Am I doing this right?" when she got on top to a cock-hungry temptress ready to jump onto him at any moment. Truth be told, he found it so fucking hot. To think that he was the catalyst for this behavior was beyond comprehension. Though Art did well enough in his dating life, Patrick was the one that the girls they liked gravitated toward when they were in school together. But she was his, and he thinks, even now, that he'll always have the satisfaction of having gotten to her first no matter what happens tonight.

Y/N shifts around on the mattress so that she's sitting on the side of the bed opposite the wall, facing them with her hands on her knees and legs tucked beneath her ass. Both boys perk up a little at this, and they watch every minute movement she makes and listen to every breath she breathes with unwavering focus.

She meets Art's gaze first before doing anything. Her brows raise in question, and, in answer, he gives her a slight nod. Those pretty, cherry-stained lips of hers curve into a smirk she doesn't even bother to hide in response to this.

"Have you ever fucked the same girl before?" she asks out of pure curiosity, her tone calm and even. Her hands leave her knees to grab one of their thighs each, slowly rubbing up and down to allow her fingertips to brush the edge of their boxers. "Two guys at the same time is a first for me..."

To say that they are in a state of shock would be a gross understatement. Surprisingly, their mouths are not hanging open, and they aren't drooling at the mere thought of what she's proposing.

Somehow, Patrick finds his voice and says, "No." A second of pause, then—"Is this for real? Like you're not just fucking with us?"

The silence that follows is ripe with tension. All that can be heard is the sound of voices passing in the hallway outside of the dorm room and fans blowing on their highest setting. The hands on their thighs come to a halt at the edge of their boxers, and the softened expression on her face shifts into one of unabashed lust as she looks at Patrick.

In answer to his question, she starts to crawl over to him. Seeing that the mattress is a twin, it doesn't take too long for her to reach him and settle into place on top of him. Her hands slide up to cup his face, forcing him to only look at her when she lowers herself onto his lap. The spandex shorts hugging every inch of her figure do little to keep him from feeling the warmth of her cunt against the bulge that formed the second she took her top off.

That first brush of her lips against his is gentle, as though she has him under a trance, but it doesn't take longer than a few seconds for him to snap out of it. Patrick's hands grasp her hips first to keep her from moving away, then they slide down to knead the soft, supple flesh of her ass as he begins to kiss her back hungrily. The kiss quickly begins to descend from her lips to her jaw until he reaches the soft skin of her neck.

While he nips and sucks at the sensitive spot along the side of her neck, Y/N opens her eyes to find Art staring, unblinking, at the pornographic display before him. The sight of him alone—between his messy blonde hair, piercing eyes, and masterfully structured face—is enough to pull a breathy moan from the back of her throat. One would think that she would get used to the way he makes her feel when he looks at her like that, but she never does.

One of the arms wrapped around Patrick's neck uncurls itself to reach for Art, fingers wiggling to beckon him to her. 

He's already invading her space by the time she whispers, "C'mere, baby."

Art practically melts into the two writhing bodies he kneels beside at the casual use of a pet name from her. The word echoes in the farthest reaches of his brain until it is all he can hear on a loop. Even as she grips the back of his neck and pulls him until their mouths collide, his cock twitches from the memory of her calling him baby.

Patrick continues to suck, lick, nip, and kiss his way down her neck as she slips her tongue into Art's mouth with a groan. He leaves marks behind everywhere he goes with the thought of his friend finding them on her for the next week and a half in mind. It only makes it more thrilling for him to imagine the strange mixture of frustration and arousal that will arise within Art when he rediscovers them the next time they hook up.

Slowly, she is guided onto her back by his mouth slipping down to take one of her nipples into it and his callused hands peeling her shorts, along with her soaked cotton thong, down over the swell of her ass. The freshly washed sheets are soft against her bare back as she lays back and watches Patrick worship her breasts with both his mouth and hands. In the midst of their repositioning, Art took it upon himself to squeeze into the cramped space next to Patrick, slotting himself between him and the wall the bed is pressed against. Without a word of warning, he dips his face down to kiss the breast Patrick is cupping in his hand.

She feels hands everywhere, unsure of which belongs to who. Hands grapple for purchase on her hips, her waist, her breasts, her thighs, and her ass—always moving in search of new territory to claim. Although they have no way of coordinating their actions, they seem to move in sync with one another. The second Art's mouth lowers to kiss down her stomach, which flinches inward at the feeling, Patrick follows. If she weren't so overwhelmed with everything right now, she'd likely laugh at how eager they are to race each other down the length of her body.

Their heads bump every few seconds by the time they reach her parted thighs, but they are too focused on getting a taste of her to care at first. They work with the same synchronized harmony they once had as doubles partners, Art tugging her left leg over his shoulder while Patrick shoves her right up and out until her thigh is flush with her chest. She can't help but silently thank her parents for enrolling her in gymnastics lessons years ago. If they hadn't, this would be a tad uncomfortable.

Finally, Patrick tries to shove Art to the side a little, complaining, "Come on, man, you're with her all the time."

To her surprise, it works for the first moment or so. Art places hot, open-mouthed kisses on her inner thigh as Patrick's tongue makes a broad stroke through her, but it isn't long before he grows dissatisfied with his current role in this impromptu threesome and decides to fight back. He doesn't shove or push like Patrick had, instead, he gently nudges his head against Patrick's until they can share her.

Having Art go down on her alone always feels pleasurable, but having both of their mouths on her at the same time is another sensation entirely. It's indescribable. Spit drools from their lips as they kiss her sodden cunt, taking turns flicking the tips of their tongues against her clit for the sake of hearing her moan over and over. From where she looks down at them, they're nearly kissing each other as they eat her out, and she has to tip her head back onto her shoulders to keep them from seeing her smirk.

When she looks back down, she makes a breathy, gasping sound at the sight of them. Patrick is looking up at her with an intensity no man has ever had when looking at her, not even Art, and there is no ignoring the feeling it stirs in the pit of her abdomen.

"Fuck," she whines and pushes herself harder against their faces, but it's never enough. "More—I need more. Please."

Neither one hesitates. In fact, they seem to form a plan without speaking it aloud. As Art's free hand raises from where it palmed his cock through his boxers, Patrick's lips close around her sensitive, puffy clit and start to suck. The tips of Art's middle and ring fingers brush tentatively against her hole, then, teasingly slow, push inside until they're buried knuckle deep.

The contrast of the men as lovers—Patrick being unforgiving and passionate, Art being tender and desperate—threatens to dizzy her. But Art cannot control himself for too long. He often starts slow and gentle, his eyes flooded with genuine affection for whoever is pinned under his body, then loses his composure the farther things go. By the time he's inside of her, he's almost brutal in how hard he fucks her, and it isn't out of malice, it's out of animalistic lust.

So, as per usual, the pace Art sets to begin with shifts into something harder and faster.

Over the sounds of the fans and music playing on the CD player across the room, a symphony of panting breaths, whines, and wet noises can be heard. It wouldn't surprise any of them if the people who were talking in the hallway could hear it, but it's not like they care right now. 

When she closes her eyes and tries to fall back against the mattress, Patrick stops for a second to murmur, "Don't look away," before getting back to work. Something about the way his voice sounds forces her to submit to his demand without hesitation. There's an edge to it. An underlying promise that he will stop and leave her here to suffer if she doesn't listen, so she does. She watches with a slack-jawed expression at how they work diligently to get her off.

The combined sensations of the fingers pumping into her at a steady, rushed pace and the lips enclosed around her sensitive bud push her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. Art slips a third finger in and licks between her sticky folds as Patrick sucks her clit relentlessly. Everything they do is motivated by a dire need to take as much of her as they can, as though they can't quite believe what's happening and want to savor it before they wake from the dream. Seeing their desperation only fuels the fire roaring to life inside of her.

They feast on her the way starving men would if presented with food—humming and groaning in satisfaction at the taste of her on their tongues. Through the haze she's fallen under as a result of the present situation, her gaze lifts from where both of their faces are smushed together between her parted thighs to find that they're both humping the mattress. It seems like they don't even realize they're doing it, which, of course, only makes it hotter for her. To think that she wields enough power over them, that she renders them so useless and needy...

Her brows pinch together at the feeling of Art's fingertips finding the sweet spot inside of her.

"Right there," she breathes out in a shaky voice, hand shooting down to grasp anything she can find for support.

It ends up being Patrick's dark hair that is weaved between her fingers and used as her lifeline, tugging nearly every time Art's fingertips find the spot inside of her that makes her throw her head back on the bed and cry out for them. If they didn't have her pinned down, her hips would be lifting to meet every thrust, but she cannot do anything other than take it. Every breath she takes turns rapid, her chest rising and falling dramatically, as the familiar feeling of her impending release grows nearer by the second.

She says, half warning and half pleading with them, "I'm"—The sentence is cut off before it can be said by a high-pitched moan that makes Patrick moan and Art whimper into her—"Please"—What she's pleading for, none of them know, herself included, but she continues to babble nonsensically anyway—"Ah!"

The hand that isn't pulling on Patrick's hair reaches down instinctively for the hand Art grips her thigh with, and she doesn't even need to ask him for it. He entwines their fingers and allows her to squeeze his hand until circulation is lost as she finally feels the wave that was building within her begin to crest.

It hits her harder than she ever knew it could. 

Everything explodes into a sensation of bliss so strong, she loses herself in it. The only thing tying her body down to the earth is the feeling of the hands on her—touching her, fingering her, caressing her, and holding her hand—yet even that is not enough to keep her from floating away into another world entirely for the first few seconds of her orgasm. The muscles in her legs, so exhausted from being forced into a position like this, shake violently with every wave of pleasure rushing through her, and her walls clamp down around the fingers thrusting into her.

If she could live forever in these fifteen seconds, she would, but it soon becomes obvious to her that there's no chance of that happening. Gradually, the intense sensation starts to recede like the tides, and they are both there to help her ride it out to the very end. But once it fully fades, she wriggles beneath them in sensitivity.

Using the hand wrapped up in his hair, Y/N pulls Patrick's mouth away from her clit with a strength he didn't know to expect despite her obvious athletic background, and when Art notices this, he too slows the rhythmic pumping of his fingers inside of her throbbing heat to a stop. Wary of hurting her, he waits another five seconds before slowly pulling them out.

She has gone boneless where she lays on her back with her eyes shut and chest heaving for air.

Knowing she cannot see them, Patrick cuts his best friend a look and jerks his chin in her direction in a silent urging to check on her. Both men start to move at the same time, crawling over her until they reach her face. While Patrick lies beside her and trails his hand up and down her naked, sweat-soaked torso to occupy himself in the time it takes her to recover, Art licks her arousal from his fingers before grabbing her by the chin.

He asks with a teasing inflection, "You still with us?"

Her eyes slowly open to find them both staring at her, and she cannot help the slight smile that comes to her face at this.

"You guys almost killed me," she murmurs. "I think my vision got spotty for a second there."

They allow her another moment to catch her breath and recuperate in the aftermath of what she endured. She takes turns looking at them as she pants for air, laying with her arms above her head and thighs squeezed together due to her current state of sensitivity.

Patrick is the first to break the silence.

"We're not done with you," he says softly, the hand on her chest climbing up until it cradles the side of her neck. "But you know that, don't you?"

"I'd be a little bummed if you were," she replies.

Her head is whipping around at the sound of Art's voice.

"Only a little?"

She pushes herself up from where she's lying supine on the bed, which is now a mess of tangled sheets and sweat, to smack him on the arm. It's all in good fun, of course, and Art is hardly hurt by the playful blow she landed on him. Giggles escape her mouth as they begin to play fight, swatting and trying to pin one another down with Patrick there to spectate. He encourages Y/N to fight dirty, telling her where to strike, which causes Art to curse under his breath and declare him a traitor.

It ultimately ends with her on top, her legs straddling his hips and hands pinning his wrists to the bed. Based on the faraway, longing gleam in his eyes as he looks up at her, Patrick can tell immediately that she only won because Art allowed her to. Because there is something about being pinned to the bed underneath her that turns him on. And she knows it. It's easy to tell by how his erection presses up against her naked center through the fabric of his boxers.

Suddenly, she comes up onto her knees and moves back until she's hovering over his thighs. Her next words are a soft-spoked explanation for why she's reaching for the waistband of his boxers.

"Too much clothes."

But, to her surprise, another pair of hands comes to her aid in shimmying Art's underwear down his hips and legs. The way Patrick sees it, the sooner he helps her get them off, the sooner she'll take his off. And he isn't wrong. As soon as they get the boxers free from Art's body, the garment is tossed to the side without a care in the world. Neither of them looks to see where they landed, they're far too busy leaning in to kiss each other than keep track of their discarded clothing.

Her left hand is wrapped around Art's cock, pumping at a torturously slow pace, as she pulls away from Patrick with a string of saliva connecting their lips.

"Take those off," she says with a pointed look at his crotch.

To say he is sent scrambling to take off his underwear at her command would be an understatement. If this scenario itself wasn't hot enough to make her cunt throb with a desperate need to be fucked, she'd be giggling at his eagerness. But it's hard to find anything funny when she's faced with Patrick standing, one foot on the floor and his other leg braced against the bed at the knee, with nothing to conceal him from her anymore.

It must inflate his ego to heights it has never reached before to see her tongue dart out to wet her lips at the sight of him. The hand stroking Art falters as she admires Patrick's cock. It's about an inch longer than Art's yet equal in girth, curving up a little toward his hair-speckled, defined abdomen. A drop of precome has dripped from his tip, and she has to dip her head forward to get a quick taste. Those pretty lips wrap around him, not pushing down to take the rest of his shaft into her mouth but remaining where she is, flicking her tongue against the slit where the drops of sticky, pearlescent fluid secrete.

A taste is all she allows herself, though.

Her lips pull off of him with a soft popping sound, and she makes sure to maintain eye contact with him as she licks a drop of pre-come off of her top lip.

She turns to look at Art, then Patrick, then back at Art, asking, "How do you want me?"

Seeing that she was a virgin before she started seeing Art, she figures she isn't qualified to direct this in a way that'll be comfortable for everyone involved. No, if she had to bet, Patrick has the most experience between the three of them—with Art following closely behind—and he will have no problem taking control from here based on how he has acted thus far.

To their surprise, it's Art who answers first. 

Patrick was still in a faraway daze from having her mouth around his cock only to be kicked when he was down by the question she asked. How do you want me? God, it's like she's trying to kill them.

"On my lap."

Art pushes himself up from the mattress and repositions so he sits on his knees in front of them, reaching for her hips to pull her closer without a second of hesitation. Her arms instantly reach for his shoulders to steady herself as she maneuvers into the exact position he had in mind. Buried beneath the music that has become white noise to them and the fans running on their highest setting, he thinks he hears her breath hitch in her throat once she's straddling his lap, the tip of his cock nudging against her clit.

Absentmindedly, she starts to grind against him, coating him in the slick arousal that seeps from her, but it's slow. A tease compared to what's coming next.

"Patrick," he says, his voice unwavering despite the excitement that makes his stomach churn. His hand slides down from her neck, caressing her breast as it passes by at a lazy speed, until he takes hold of himself and pumps a few times—as if he isn't hard as a fucking rock already. Over her shoulder, he meets his friend's intense stare. "If you wanna fuck her, you should probably get on the bed."

And while he would usually fire back something equally witty or taunting, Patrick cannot manage to do anything but nod. There's something about seeing Art this way that subdues him. He would like to think that the sole reason he's standing naked in front of his best friend is because there's a girl involved, but that isn't true. Not completely. Although Art would never admit to himself that he feels the same way, there's something familiar about this. Comfortable. Right.

The mattress dips with Patrick's shifting weight, squeaking a little beneath his knees until he settles into place behind her. His chest presses against her back, and his hand reaches up to grab her jaw, guiding her head to tilt so he can kiss her neck while Art lines himself up with her. She feels Patrick's cock pressing against her ass as the broad tip of Art's sinks inside of her.

Having Patrick's face buried in her neck, her shoulder, and back to her neck again provided her and Art a rare second of private intimacy. Her eyes, glazed over with lust, lock into his and refuse to look away. The intensity present in his gaze does not frighten her. If anything, it sends a rush of adrenaline through her body, and she takes a second to admire his soft, wide eyes. She's never mentioned it aloud before, but she has always been fascinated with making eye contact with him due to his right eye. Half of the iris is a striking, clear shade of blue while the other is a warm brown hue.

"Fuck," he says under his breath at the feeling of her squeezing down around him, her tight cunt resisting a little until she relaxes and sinks down until there's nothing left to take.

There's nothing that compares to the feeling of the first thrust he makes.

Every time, it makes her bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. To feel him so deep is almost undoing in itself. Then she feels another hand slide between her legs, and her mind goes utterly blank. Everything outside of this room falls away the second Patrick starts to rub her clit in gentle, languid circles to help her adjust to the stretch of Art inside of her. Patrick's lips lavish every accessible inch of her bare skin with kisses as his friend, with a hand on each of her hips, starts to lift her up and down at an unhurried pace.

Their noses and lips brush without completely touching. When she pushes her face closer to Art's, hoping to lock lips with him, he pulls away for the sake of seeing her grow hot in the face from embarrassment. The mouth worshipping the back of her neck curves up into a smirk in reaction to the games Art plays with her. Who knew he's just as fun in bed as he is out of it? Certainly not Patrick.

She mutters, voice breathy and weak, "Feels so good..."

"Yeah?" Patrick murmurs into her skin and presses his fingers hard against her clit. "Tell me how he feels."

If he could see her the way Art can right now, he'd have to suppress a chuckle at how her brows pinch together at the command. Regardless of her sudden shyness, the words he says only make her ride Art harder. Over her shoulder, Patrick searches for those pale blue eyes only to find them staring through him already. Every smooth rocking motion of her hips pushes her ass against his neglected erection, providing him with a brushing touch before pivoting away again.

"He feels"—she says, chest rising and falling faster—"He's so hard." Her sentences are hardly coherent. "Perfect—mmm—fucking me so deep." One of her hands reaches to tug his down to press it against the southernmost part of her abdomen. "Feel."

With her palm molded over the back of his hand and forcing him to push down on her belly, Patrick can hardly keep from groaning at the subtle bulge of Art's cock moving in and out of her. It's strangely intimate for the three of them to share this experience, but for him to feel every thrust through her is more than he anticipated.

Unable to fight what instinct drives him to, Patrick shifts his hips until the angle of her grinding against him allows his tip to brush up against the hole she and Art have yet to touch. He doesn't do anything more, not without her asking for it, but it's clear to both Art and Y/N that he desperately wants to. All of this physical affection shared between the two of them has made Patrick needy and jealous, so she decides to grant him mercy.

She reaches behind herself blindly to guide him elsewhere, nudging him against the hole Art is already filling. It takes them a couple of seconds to understand what she means in doing this, but, once it clicks, they start to go a little crazy. For the moment, she has stopped bouncing on Art's cock for the sake of allowing Patrick to push in beside him, and he has to surge forward to kiss her. If he doesn't distract himself with a kiss, he'll be too tempted to move.

As Art kisses her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth and caressing her own, Patrick's hand wraps around her throat for leverage with his teeth nipping at her earlobe. His hand wraps around where hers grips his cock to guide it to her entrance, and with his help, they manage to squeeze the tip in.

Her jaw drops at the overwhelming sensation, and the sloppy kiss is interrupted when her head rolls back onto Patrick's shoulder. Art doesn't seem to care, though. Now that her head is tipped back, her neck is exposed for him to mark, and he takes advantage of the opportunity as soon as it presents itself. His lips brush against Patrick's fingers a few times as he kisses her fervently, sucking hard on the delicate skin that has already been bruised by his dear friend.

"You're beautiful," Art whispers into her neck between kisses. "So, so beautiful."

Taking it slow for her sake, Patrick has to force himself into her inch by inch, stretching her little cunt to take far more than she's accustomed to. But, as hard as it is, it works. After another few moments of him pushing in and pausing to let her adjust, he finally bottoms out with his cock flush against Art's. Her walls clamp down around them tightly. They both share a nervous look at this, wondering if they'll manage to last longer than thirty seconds if it already feels this good.

Slowly, she raises her head from where it slumped against Patrick's shoulder and meets Art's intense stare with one of her own. His hand raises to cup the side of her face, his fingers grazing against Patrick's, and he brushes his thumb over her kiss-swollen bottom lip. Every breath taken between the three of them is labored.

Pulling her lip down with his thumb, he asks, "Feeling okay?"

A half-second later, Patrick chimes in.

"If it's too much, you have to tell us."

Not a question, not a request, but a demand. The way he said it left no room for debate, so she nods in compliance and responds with an eagerness that neither man can miss, "M'fine, please, just fuck me..."

Patrick does not need to be told twice.

Having been sidelined for too long and forced to watch them fuck without him, he pulls out slowly, then cants his hips back against her ass with a force that takes her breath away. Amidst this, Art cannot do anything but let his face fall forward into her chest and whine in ecstasy. Just the movement of Patrick's cock rubbing against his with every thrust renders him useless. He knew it would feel better than any sex he'd had before, but this...He'll likely spend the rest of his life chasing the hedonism they are experiencing tonight.

One of her arms reaches behind her to grab Patrick's hip and dig her nails in hard while the other closes around Art's neck to pull both of them as close as can be. And now that he has forced himself back from the edge of a premature release, Art begins to move too, searching for a rhythm that feels right. Soon enough, he manages to find it. Both of their heads lift to look at each other, faces inches apart with their chins pressing on her shoulder, and they work with the same synchronicity they had while eating her out not even fifteen minutes ago.

She turns her head to the side to watch their stare-down as they rut into her like feral animals—utterly insatiable and overcome by their baser instincts. And it's only now that it occurs to her that, underneath it all, they want each other as desperately and pathetically as they want her. Patrick's gaze relentlessly bounces back and forth between Art's eyes and lips, and it makes her smirk to herself. The pleasure of fucking her as one, their pulsing cocks rubbing together in the warm walls of her cunt, has lowered their inhibitions, and the idea of being intimate with one another isn't as daunting as it would be if they were fully aware.

Leaning in to brush her cherry-flavored lips against Art's ear, she whispers, "I want you to kiss him."

The arm looped around the back of his neck pulls tighter in encouragement, bringing his body so close to hers that she can feel his ribs expanding with every breath. His only reaction to her request is a quick glance at her face once she pulls away from his ear with a sensuous lick as a parting gift. It's almost as though he doesn't believe what she's saying, but the reassuring expression she wears tells him that it is real. She truly wants him to see him kiss his best friend, not only for their enjoyment but hers as well.

One second, he's looking at her, and the next, he's slotting his lips against Patrick's with a passion previously only reserved for her. Their hands both grapple for purchase on her sweat-slick body, Art aggressively kneading her breasts and Patrick squeezing her hips for dear life, as they moan into each other's mouths.

As they kiss each other hungrily, Y/N has nothing left to do but bask in the tension swelling inside of her. There's something about how wrong this situation feels to her that makes it so much more arousing. Girls are always raised with the idea that promiscuity lessens their value, and she was not an exception. Having been raised in a family of devout believers, she hadn't kissed a boy until she was seventeen years old. The next person she kissed was Art, and in the time since their first kiss, he has thoroughly corrupted her.

And even as distracted as he is by the all-consuming, wet kiss he's engaged in, Art feels her cunt start to squeeze around their cocks and immediately drops one of the hands on her breasts between her splayed thighs. His finger rubs in tight circles on her clit in hopes that she will reach her end before he and Patrick come pathetically soon.

Her body jerks where it's trapped between them when his fingers make contact, pulling their focus away from each other for the first time since their lips touched. Patrick reaches up to hold her neck in one hand and forces her face to the side so both of them can look at every subtle expression she makes. 

"Don't stop," she pleads, eyes glazed over. "M'so close, Art"—Every merciless thrust elicits a high-pitched whine from her—"Patrick, please!"

The body trapped between them has gone boneless and twitchy, utterly useless at holding herself up or aiding them in any way. But they wear it like a badge of honor. With her face falling forward into Art's neck, she loses her grasp on all that is around her and lets them prop her up to fuck her like a toy existing solely for their gratification.

With one hand cradling the back of her head and the other between her thighs, still dutifully rubbing her clit, Art asks under his breath, "Isn't she fucking perfect?"

Although it was a question meant for Patrick, she can't help how she moans and clenches her walls around them when she hears it. Panting breaths from the three of them flood the sweltering dorm room, but they are too far gone to notice or care how much sweat drips off of their bodies onto one another. It's almost hard to get a firm grip on her as a result of it, but they manage to keep her in place by smushing their bodies as close as physically possible on both sides of her.

Patrick bucks his hips up into her with a recklessness that gives away how close he is to his climax.

He says, "Oh, God, yeah." The hand still collaring her delicate neck squeezes just enough to take her breath away for a second. However, once he released his hold on her, that hand moved to wrap itself up the roots of her hair. "Best pussy I've ever had. So fucking tight, it's like she wants us to come inside her." A pause, then, "Is that what you want?"

A second passes of silence from her, and he sharply tugs back on her hair until her face is no longer hidden in Art's neck. This allows them to drink in the sight of her—face twisted up in pleasure and mouth gaping open.

He asks again, "Is that what you want?"

Her response is immediate.

"Yes, yes, yes," she murmurs incoherently and takes quick turns to look between their faces. If the expressions they wear are any indication, it won't be long before her wish is fulfilled. "I'm—mmm-gonna come! I need you to fill me up, please, please!"

To this, Art rubs her clit faster while maintaining eye contact with her and finally lets go of whatever remaining scraps of self-control he has left. Knowing how close she is pushes them closer themselves, and they start to pound her hard. Hard enough that even they, as soon-to-be professional athletes, have difficulty sustaining this intense degree of exertion.

The arm that she looped around his shoulders is still there, but now her hand is sliding down from the back of Art's neck to explore the toned musculature of his upper back. Under her searching palm, she can feel his muscles contracting and relaxing beneath his pale skin.

To both her and Art's surprise, the world begins to shift in their peripheral vision until he falls flat against the mattress on his back with his length still sheathed inside of her. It takes a second for their brains to catch up with what happened and deem Patrick responsible for the position change. He laid his hands flat on her back and pushed with just the right amount of force to pin Art to the mattress beneath them.

Art says, breathless, "I can feel you squeezing us, baby, just let go."

Hearing those words sets fire to her blood, and that, paired with the toe-curling sensation of them pressing deep inside of her, hitting that spot over and over and over, is what tips her over the edge.

Patrick keeps pulling on her hair to force her head up so that they can feel and watch her come, and what a beautiful sight it is. Art, the lucky bastard, is face to face with her as she tenses up with the onslaught of her climax. But he can see the side of her pretty, flushed face and drink up every little sound she makes, so he doesn't feel left out in any way. No, he is experiencing this right beside Art. They're both trapped inside of her, pumping into her throbbing heat and letting themselves be swept away into oblivion by the feeling of her coming undone.

She digs her nails into Art's skin hard enough to hurt as she whines and writhes between them with each pulse of pleasure that runs through her, and it isn't until she's starting to come down, riding out the high, that she feels them spill into her at the same time. Every sensation attached to it prolongs her orgasm—the throbbing, the spreading warmth, and the dying undulations of their hips that grind their cocks together within her. And beyond the physicality of the act, just knowing that they're filling her to the brim with their come makes her head spin from how fucking hot she finds it.

It isn't long before their thrusts slow into a sensuous grinding as they come down from it together, then come to a full stop to keep from overstimulating themselves. They both are starting to go soft, panting and leaning against her limp body in exhaustion, and know they wouldn't be able to continue even if they wanted to.

Her head is laid on Art’s shoulder with Patrick’s nose nuzzling her neck. There's nothing they can do except remain still and try to recover from the euphoria that has rendered them useless, so that is precisely what they do. With their bodies nearly melting together from the heat, the three of them hold onto each other for support until they manage to return to full consciousness after what they went through.

It isn't until another couple of moments have elapsed that Patrick and Art start murmuring to one another while she remains slumped between them. A second later, both pairs of hands are squeezing her hips; lifting her off of their softening cocks, slowly, gently, and minding her sensitivity.

The three of them collapse side by side on the twin bed, bodies squeezed together like sardines, and she finally comes back down from the clouds her head floated into at the feeling of them touching her. It isn't sexual. No, they wouldn't dream of putting her through anything more than she could handle right now. Both touches are tender and featherlight—Art's hand molds over her breast simply to cup it as they cuddle while Patrick brings her hand up from her side to brush a kiss over her knuckles.

The silence continues to stretch on, then—

"We're definitely gonna have to do that again," she says, turning her head to look at each of them before laying her cheek against Art's shoulder. "That is, if don't mind sharing me."

His gaze softens, the hand cupping her breast ghosting up over her skin until it finds her and Patrick's entwined hands.

"I don't mind one bit."

-

Thank you for reading this! I probably won’t write any more Challengers fics but I saw the movie like five times in theaters and needed to crank this out to satisfy the part of me that is obsessed with the hotel scene. I would really appreciate a comment to let me know what you thought if you’re open to that 🫶🏻 The oral part of this fic was inspired by these two (1) (2) I read, so def give them a read cause they're great!

[safic4-m]

❤️🚬Did you find everything you were looking for?

Pairing: Lana Winters x Fem Lector

Author’s Note: My sister was the one who gave me the idea to make this one-shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

~Master list~

One-shot

Wattpad

Lana had stormed out of the house after asking you several times if you could go get her a book from the library for her, but after a lot she got tired and decided to go herself; the fact that it was raining didn’t help either.

Every time she asked if you could go get the book, you changed the subject or brought her a completely different book. Lana couldn’t understand why you were doing it, the library was a few blocks away from your apartment, besides it wasn’t that difficult what she was asking you, she just wanted you to go get the book she needed.

Upon entering the library, the brunette went to the area where she knew the book she needed was located, and with the book in hand and one or two botanical books, she went to the reception desk.

-Did you find everything you were looking for?,-asks an elderly woman taking the books from the brunette.

-I did, thank you,- forcing a smile.

A picture of you with the “vetoed” sign on it catches the journalist’s attention.

-Excuse me, may I know why you are banned?,- referring to the picture of you on the wall.

-Oh…well, she moved all the bibles to the fiction area- she says with a clear anger -isn’t that disrespectful?

The chestnut bites back a smile and keeps her comments to herself about it.

—

After traveling two hours by car you finally managed to get the book that Lana had asked you for, for certain reasons you were not allowed to return to the library near your home and apparently no bookstore or library in the city had it, so you had to make a four hour trip to get it. When you open the door of your shared apartment you realize that Lana is at home, but she wasn’t supposed to arrive until after five o'clock.

-T/n?,- she asks without getting an answer.

-T/n! Is that you?,- she asks again and you notice the panic in her voice.

-Yes, honey!,- you reply rather tensely.

You leave the book at the entrance and go inside to look for your girlfriend, you find her with a fresh cup of tea.

-I thought you were going out later,- you say, trying to sound casual.

-No, when I got to work they told me that we had no electricity and to take the day off,- pausing to drink some of her tea, -when I came back I didn’t find you, so I went out to get something I needed.

-Oh…,- is all you can say.

-I had enough time to finish my work and I was wondering…- you see how a smile grows on his face as he puts his cup aside.

-Yes?- you ask, expecting the worst.

-If you could return this book to the library while I prepare lunch,- he holds in his hands the book he had asked you for, the same one you had been driving for four hours.

Hundreds of thoughts go through your mind, how are you supposed to tell your girlfriend that you are banned from the library because of a stupid thing you did?

-How about if we prepare lunch together and tomorrow I’ll bring it back?,- you suggest trying to sound casual.

-You don’t have to lie,- she says putting the book down next to her tea before approaching you.

-Lying?- you ask without really knowing what she is talking about.

-I know you were banned from the library and why,- he says normally.

Even though you know it was a stupid thing to do, it doesn’t bother you.

-Well… I don’t regret it,- you says avoiding his gaze.

You are disconcerted to hear her laugh, making you turn your gaze to her.

-Only you would move the bibles to the fiction area, -she says with a chuckle.

-Well.., a dove that impregnated a woman, turning water into wine, walking on water, resurrection,- you says, listing them with her fingers.

-I must admit I was a little surprised when I saw your picture,- shaking his head, -but when I found out why, it all made sense.

-That was a very interesting day

-What do you say we order lunch and watch a movie?,- he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist.

-I think it’s perfect,- says very close to her lips before kissing her.

You both move to the bedroom and while you put on a movie Lana asks you a question.

-Where did you go?- she asks, showing a beautiful smile.

-Since I couldn’t go to get the book, I took it upon myself to look for it in every bookstore and apparently the only one that has it is on the outskirts of the city, which is a two hour trip to get it, four hours in total,- you say with total naturalness.

You see how his eyes widen at your confession, taking your eyes off the screen.

-You didn’t do it?- he says looking at you as if he expected a no for an answer.

You simply decide to go get the book and give it to him.

-I’m sorry it took me so long to get it,- you say with some sadness in your voice.

-Wow,- he says barely above a whisper, not taking his eyes off the book.

-But now that you don’t need it anymore we can donate it,- trying to take it from her hands.

Lana quickly moves the book away from your reach and hugs it close to her chest.

-What are you doing?- you ask, laughing at the situation.

-I’m not going to let you take it,- she says defensively.

-But why?, you don’t need it anymore

-Because I know how much you hate driving and yet you made a four-hour drive to get it,- clutching the book.

-And your point is…?- you ask without understanding what he means

-That if that’s not the greatest proof of love there is, I don’t know what is,- watching her eyes fill with tears.

-Lana… love, I would do anything for you,- says, taking her face in your hands.

-How to drive four hours…- he says laughing lightly.

-I’d drive seven if it would make you happy,- reflecting the smile on his face.

He puts the book aside and kisses you passionately, happily reciprocating, along with a smile that spreads across your lips.

-I love you so much T/n,- he says with his lips brushing yours.

-I love you so much too my love

[ginevrapng]

I saw that you were accepting requests and I was wondering if you could write something about best friends’ dads!marauders x reader or something like that?

If not, I completely understand! <3

i've never written bestfriends!dads before so i hope you enjoy it! i didn't know if you wanted me to include peter but the majority of marauders fics leave out peter and i think this concept works better without him. <3

there was a lot of great things about being harry potter's best friend, one of those things happens to be getting to spend time with his hot dad james, completely off limits dad. that doesn't stop you from thinking about how charming he is though.

you've seen photos of james when he were younger and harry is a spitting image of him. now with age he's changed in all the best ways, his hair less messy, neater with slightly having the appearance of being slicked back and with thicker frame glasses. a distinction between him and harry, both younger and older is his build, james being more built with broader shoulders and more muscular.

he's kind and considerate and always calls you 'sweetheart' making you flush and every time leaves you wide eyed. you've never heard him call anyone else sweetheart so it's always leaving you feeling bashful.

james tells you that you can come and visit and stay whenever you want and you're always welcome so whenever you spend time at harry's you also end up seeing his two godfathers who also spend a lot of time there. whenever that happens you are rather reluctant to leave the house, not just enjoying all the company that they deliver but also how attractive they are, just like james.

remus somehow always memorising you. like when he rolls his sleeves up so you can see his arms or how you swear you sometimes see in the corner of your eye glimpses of him looking at your lips while you're talking. his jumpers and cardigans always looking so comfortable and soft, you wonder what they'd look like on you. you think about his sandy hair that covers his eyes and his beautiful hazel eyes that crinkle when he smiles and how he always looks tired and how you'd happily let him rest and sleep on you. he never talks about his work but it must be pretty rough for him to constantly look so tired.

sirius is ruggedly handsome always leaning against walls instead of sitting down, even when a seat is available. leaving you watching longer than you should as you watch his pose and see him stretching causing his tshirt to rise, exposing a bit of his torso. he has his long jet black hair which now has streaks of grey that he constantly runs his hands through.

you're going back into the living room, where everyone is, after you went to the kitchen to get a glass of cold water due to the heat and see sirius moving in a way that momentarily makes you freeze.

"you alright doll?" sirius smirks at you after spotting you. you nod but are unable to stop shifting side to side nervously after being caught, causing him to raise his eyebrow, looking amused as he chuckles at you.

this is the first time any of them has addressed your behaviour towards them but they have all noticed your longing looks and shy glances.

they've all been waiting for the moment to make a move and they're starting to lose their patience. you were none the wiser with their intentions, trying to get you alone, away from your friends and away from harry, asking you personal questions and give you special attention.

"you got a boyfriend or girlfriend doll? sirius asked you out of the blue one day, catching you completely off guard.

you splutter and try to answer while james starts speaking. "you're not dating my harry are you sweetheart?"

"what! of course i'm not! we're just friends." you say probably louder than you should, wanting to defend yourself.

you hear someone coming up behind you, "good." remus clasps your shoulders with his hands, slowly rubbing them and making patterns with his thumbs before he moves away and goes to help sirius with the washing up.

fiddling with your fingers you watch them all clear the table and sort out things that needed to be doing in the house with a small dreamy smile on your face.

[sexlapis]

actor! toji fushiguro thoughts 💭

actor toji would be one of those hot dilf actors that women would always be drooling over, edits of him always popping up on your fyp, the most outta pocket comments underneath all of his insta posts, he would be the number 1 dilf for all the old man fuckers.

toji rarely posts on social media. he’s at that age where he just does not care to post his whole life online, but that only attracts people to him more because he is so mysterious. he would have like 10 million followers and only follow 12 people (including you)

toji would probably be one of those actors that have no variety in their roles, but everybody would still eat it up anyways. toji as an actor would typically play a villain/antagonist or an anti-hero, typically in an action movie/series and he plays them well. toji can embody an intimidating, frightening, intelligent villain very well. he could be cast as one of the most horrendous, horrible villains and be a menace towards the main cast but because he looks like that, he is forgiven.

but there are those rare times toji is casted as a father or father figure and his character would do anything for their daughter and everyone just loses it. he plays the father role well, almost too well. he is so caring, protective and sweet towards the actress playing as his daughter, even behind the scene clips with one another, he is just so gentle and dreamy. the fans cannot handle it!

during interviews, toji can be charming. he cracks jokes and he answers questions honestly, even if they make him look unprofessional. he really does not give a fuck about that, which only makes him even more attractive. he’s a little sleazy sometimes, but that just adds to his lazy effortless appeal.

he just has such a dominant personality and not in a bad way either. like if an interviewer asked a question that made a cast member uncomfortable, he would smoothly change the subject and the mood, making everyone forget about it entirely. also, his stare is really intense…like when the interviewer or a fellow cast member is speaking, he makes sure to look at them and listen really closely, not even realising how intimidating that could be 😭

despite his unprofessional personality and wealthy background, people who work with toji cannot say anything bad about him. he is a great actor with great work ethic and is always respectful to his cast members. and most of all, he is humble. due to his background and accomplishments, other actors on set expect him to be all flashy and all head in the clouds, but toji isn’t like that. toji is very aware and down to earth and he doesn’t see himself as superior because of his wealth. he sees what that power does to some people (his family) and he wants nothing not do with it.

overall, for the most part, toji is a respected actor, with a loyal (albeit crazy) fanbase, he actually enjoys his job and lives a relatively private and quiet life. people barely know anything despite his wealth and fame and prefers to keep it that way.

a/n: this was inspired by jeffrey dean morgan lmao. also i’m thinking of maybe doing a mini one shot with actress reader x actor toji in the form of one of those youtube videos like “(reader) & toji fushiguro being a couple for 10 minutes straight” i think that would be fun 🤭🤭

edit: toji & reader being a couple for 10 minutes straight is here <3

[angelskisser]