#like especially w the green eyes

[scrimblyscrorblo]

Another little WIP but of Ranpoe this time (I just wanted to put Edgar in a big billowy shirt tbh but they’re both autistic to me and I will be projecting

Ranpo likes sitting on the floor ✨floor time✨ is peak <3

[loserboysandlithium]

The Pact: Eddie Munson One Shot

Summary: As children, you and Eddie made a pact to never cross that line. But as the two of you have grown it has become almost impossible to keep. You decide to make a new pact instead. ;)

Explicit sexual content, Minors DNI, word count 3k, moved over from my old account 🖤

*******

"Eddie!" you knock loudly on the door of his trailer. His van is here so he's gotta be home.

"Eds?!" you try again, banging on the door even louder.

He's probably still sleeping. The boy doesn't wake up earlier than noon, especially on a Saturday.

You close the screen door and make your way around the trailer to his window. It's cracked slightly and the smell of weed immediately hits your nose, making you smile. He's up.

You push up on the old window, listening to the squeak as it struggles to move. "Eddie!" you shout through the crack. Again, no response.

You roll your eyes as you use all your strength to lift the window enough to crawl through. You climb in head first and tumble onto his floor. As you sit up, your eyes adjust to the dim room. You see him lying on his back on the floor, headphones on his ears, his fingers tapping away as he listens to the music.

No shirt, his tattoos on full display. Hair pulled back into a messy bun, loose curls sticking out everywhere. A pair of dark green flannel pajama pants hanging low on his waist.

Fuck, he looks good.

You watch as he brings his fingers to his lips, inhaling on the joint, releasing a cloud of smoke into the air. You tiptoe across the floor, hearing the tune of 'Dirty Women' by Black Sabbath coming from the headset as you lean over him.

His already round eyes widen even more as he sits up quickly, his head slamming into yours.

"Shit! Are you okay?" he shouts over the music still blasting in his ears. You reach out with one hand removing his headphones, leaving them dangling around his neck as you rub your forehead with your other.

"Easy Tiger." you giggle and he gives you a crooked grin. His eyes are glossed over and slightly red from his activities.

"Sorry, didn't hear you comin.” he explains, pointing towards the earphones.

"Yeah, I got that.” you smile, shoving his shoulder lightly as he scoots a little closer to you.

"Thought you were coming by tonight?" he raises an eyebrow as he stands up, holding his hand out to you. You grab his hand and he pulls you from the ground.

"My shift got canceled and I was bored." you shrug, reaching out for the joint in his hand.

"I have an idea.” Eddie says suddenly, his brown glinting. You inhale deeply on the joint and wait for him to continue. He stands there silently, eyes zoning in on your chest.

"Eddie!" you smack him upside the head bringing him out of his daze and he shakes his wild hair.

“Sorry.. I'm high." he shrugs with a little wiggle of his brows.

"Your idea?" you push.

"Right.. the clubhouse. Let's hotbox." A slick smile spreads on his pretty lips. Every time you're together, you have to fight the urge to kiss him. To touch him. To beg him to touch you.

You had both made a pact. An oath. You were best friends. You couldn't cross that line. But now.. every year it gets harder and harder to keep it.

I wonder if he feels the same.

"Hello?” Eddie snaps his fingers in front of your face teasingly.

"Mhmm.. yeah. Let's go." you grin at him and his smile widens. He walks over to his nightstand, swiping up his little lunchbox.

You make your way outside, following the familiar trail into the woods behind the trailer park. You used to come here all the time together. Staying up, eating bags of candy and telling scary stories until Wayne would come and drag you both out.

You reach the rickety ladder leading high into the trees and glance over at Eddie, a nervous look on your face.

"When's the last time you've been up here? It looks... well, it looks like we're gonna die if we attempt this."

"Oh, we're fine. Come on. You first." he encourages, his hand landing on your waist. The small touch sends tingles down your spine.

"Why do I have to go first?" you groan, grabbing hold of the wooden plank.

"That way I can catch you if you fall." he explains, keeping his hand resting gently on your side. You take a deep breath and begin your climb.

"Shit!" you squeal as your foot slips on the third step and you fall into Eddie, his free hand lands on your ass, holding you up.

"Oops." you laugh, turning to peek at Eddie. His hand remains in place making you blush.

“Eds?" you nod towards his hand and he just smiles.

"Total accident, sweetheart. Swear." he cheeses. Your heart starts to pound in your chest. He's flirting. Shit, no... He always flirts. It's just friendly banter. Normal for the two of you. But is that all it is? Fuck.

You continue up the ladder, Eddie following close behind until you reach the top. You push the Spider-Man sheet to the side and crawl into the small treehouse. Everything looks about the same. A few new additions since the last time you've been here.

An ashtray sits in the corner, a stack of playboy and hustler magazines sprawled out, some empty beer bottles.

"Eddie Munson.." you giggle, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

Eddie plops on the dusty floor reaching out and snagging one of the magazines. "What? A man has needs."

"Ew." you joke, grabbing his lunchbox, plopping a pre rolled joint between your lips.

"What? You don't uh, take care of yourself?"

The question catches you off guard. But even more than that, his tone. It was much deeper than before. You hope your cheeks aren't as red as they feel as you meet his gaze. You light the joint, inhaling deeply, holding the smoke in your lungs a moment before exhaling.

"No, I do." you whisper, taking another toke.

Eddie watches you curiously, scooting a little closer to you in the already cramped space.

"You gonna share?" he winks at you, making your heart flutter. He's so close. All I want is to taste him. To finally give in.

"Hey, you okay?" Eddie nudges you playfully with his foot, shaking you from your thoughts. You nod sitting up on your knees in between his sprawled legs. You bring the joint to his lips and his eyes lock on yours as he inhales slowly.

You inch closer, the slight buzz from the weed making you more confident.

"Are you about to kiss me?" Eddie blurts making you pause.

"What? No!” you snort shoving his chest hard, making him fall back to the dirty floor. He coughs, the smoke filling his lungs coming out in small spurts as you move back to your spot against the wall, feeling a wild mix of emotions.

He scrambles to get back up, immediately coming to sit in front of you again. “I- uh- I wasn't gonna stop you.. if you were going to... ya know?" he mumbles under his breath.

You meet his big brown eyes, the same eyes you've looked into for years and years. There was no mistaking it. They were darker. Full of hunger. A hunger for you.

Shit.. say something. Anything. Your mind goes blank. Every part of you wanting to just kiss him.

The other part of you worried about your friendship. The whole reason the two of you made the pact.

"The pact.” you breathe.

Eddie speaks next, leaning back slightly, twisting one of his rings on his finger.

"Who do you think about when you touch yourself?" he burns lowly, his eyes searching your face.

"What?”

"Who do you think about?" he asks again, his eyes remain locked on yours.

You. Always you.

You shrug instead, keeping your thoughts to yourself.

Eddie nods slowly, taking another long puff off the joint before handing it your way. The small area was already cloudy with smoke as you both continue to add to the haze.

"It's not like we made a blood oath or something."

Eddie says after a few minutes. Both of you now feeling the effects of the high.

"We literally made a blood oath." you argue, a smile on your lips as you think back to the two of you pricking your fingers with a thumb tack.

"We were thirteen." Eddie pushes back, moving over so he's sitting right next to you. You can feel his body warmth radiating against your side. When you turn his face is only inches from yours.

"Where is this coming from?" you whisper.

"I just.. fuck, I don't know. Just, look at you." Eddie breathes out, his words making your entire body warm.

"Who do you think about?" you ask suddenly.

"I don't know what you mean." he grins widely, forcing you to ask him directly.

"When you touch yourself.. do you just think about those girls in the magazine?"

"Sometimes.. sometimes I think of someone else." he hints as his hand gradually makes its way to your thigh.

"Me?" you swallow hard, barely pushing the word out.

"Do you think about me?" he challenges, his hand resting heavily on your upper thigh.

"Yes." you admit. You knew it wasn't the drugs.

You've always wanted Eddie. But the buzz was allowing you to finally speak your truth.

You can tell he's happy with your answer, his face lighting up. His brown eyes gleaming.

"Show me."

"I don't under-'

"Show me what you do when you think about me." he cuts you off swiftly.

Holy shit. Your mind fills with wild thoughts as you take what he said into consideration. You can feel yourself throbbing at the thought. Touching yourself in front of him. Eddie's eyes watching you as you bring yourself to your peak. Would he touch himself too?

Before you can change your mind you guide your hands into your shorts, listening as Eddie inhales sharply.

"Fuck." he exhales, watching carefully as your hand meets your warmth under the material of your shorts. You close your eyes, worried that if you see him you might overthink everything.

Right now it just felt good. So good.. and you know he's watching.

"I close my eyes." you start, slowly rubbing circles around your clit. Eddie hums in response, waiting for you to keep going.

"And I see your face. I-I think about how your lips would feel.. your tongue. the sounds you would make..." you moan as you slip two fingers inside, feeling your arousal.

"What else?" Eddie rasps, his lips suddenly against your ear, his voice makes you speed up your fingers.

"I think about how you would feel inside me.. if you would be rough.. if you would.. ohh.. if you would make me scream."

"I promise I could make you scream." Eddie burns. You feel his fingers on your chin, turning you to face him. Your eyes drift open and Eddie presses his forehead against yours as you work your fingers in and out of your soaked pussy.

"I think about your fingers a lot... your rings.. I pretend my hands are yours.." you whimper, feeling yourself on the edge but not quite there.

You don't want your fingers. You want his.

"Eddie."

"You gonna cum, sweetheart?"

"I want you.. I want you to make me cum.." you whine desperately, only seconds away from your orgasm.

"Yeah?" he pants breathlessly.

"Please." you beg. He wastes no time reaching into your shorts, you remove your fingers just in time for his to replace them. His slender fingers immediately reach exactly where you need them to, curling with precision, stroking across your g spot making you cum instantly.

"Yes! Oh fuck!" you cry, your muscles pulsing around his fingers, Eddie watches in awe as you fall apart beneath his hand.

"Holy fuck.” Eddie groans deeply, slowly working you through your orgasm.

You grab him, slamming your lips into his pulling a moan from him instantly. He leans in, his body pressing you down to the floor as you tangle your hands in his hair.

Fuck.

He tastes like weed and Camel Blues as his tongue greets yours hungrily. You both kiss sloppily, soaking up this moment. After all these years, both of you finally getting what you want.

Clothes are torn off. No more hesitation as you both paw at each other, kissing and biting, the eagerness apparent from both of you. Moans and the sound of messy kisses fill the room.

"Fuck me." you plead with him as your bodies grind together, skin on skin, so close together.

"We need a new pact." he pants breathlessly, lining himself up.

"Mhmm." you moan, feeling his tip start to stretch you out.

"The new pact is that You're mine." he moans as he thrusts himself in, entering you fully, a filthy cry raining from your lips.

"I'm yours." you whimper, your fingernails digging into his back as he begins to pump in and out of you.

"We have to seal it, sweetheart." he mumbles drunkenly, picking up his pace. His size is unlike anything you've had before, your legs already shaking slightly, a tinge of pain mixed with the beautiful pleasure.

"What do you- oh!" you gasp as his teeth sink into your bottom lip just hard enough to break the skin. You feel the trickle of warm liquid dribble down your chin.

"Shit." you breathe out before returning the favor, taking Eddie's plump lip between your teeth and tugging roughly making him growl as he slams his cock into you.

"Goddamn, baby.” he groans, kissing your lips, gliding his tongue inside. A metallic taste fills your mouth as your tongues swirl together wildly, your blood mixing together in your kiss.

"Call me baby again." you whimper, rolling your hips, grinding on his big cock. He feels so fucking good.

Eddie chuckles bringing his lips to your ear as he fucks you powerfully. His cock glides in and out of your slickness, the sounds loud in the quiet of the woods.

"You like being my baby?" he murmurs in your ear.

"Yes!”

"You feel so fucking good.. so fucking good." he praises, entering you deeply with every snap of his hips. Your head falls to the wooden floor as your back begins to arch.

"There we go, sweetheart." Eddie hums approvingly as your thighs begin to tremble.

He keeps himself buried deep, rolling into you, his thick cock filling you to the brim. He thrusts into you precisely, finding your sweet spot making your toes curl.

"Eddie! R-right there!" you whine, the pleasure of someone fucking you right for the first time was unlike anything you'd felt before. You didn't know sex could feel this good.

"Gonna take care of you, sweetheart.. I got you." Eddie reassures, keeping his pace, in and out, in and out.

His lips lock onto your neck sucking harshly. You grip the back of his head, holding him to you, the feeling of his lips sucking your skin felt delicious. His fingers meet your clit, quickly rubbing circles on the sensitive nub, making your eyes roll.

"Please don't stop... I think.. I think I'm gonna..”

"Cum for me, beautiful.” Eddie demands in your ear, sending you over the edge. You pull his hair roughly as your body jolts upward, your pussy clenching around him, spasm after spasm as you flood his cock.

"E-Eddie! Ohh my god.. f-fuck!" you practically scream, Eddie loving every second of you writhing beneath him. Watching as you make a mess of his cock. You can feel your cum coating your thighs as he continues to pound into you.

His hands tangle in your hair as his lips meet yours feverishly. Your entire body is overwhelmed as you cling to him, it's almost too much but you don't want it to end. He lifts your leg onto his shoulder, the new angle making you gasp.

"You're so fucking hot." Eddie moans, the sounds coming from him are everything you imagined they'd be. Even better.

"We're gonna cum together." Eddie orders as he leans down, taking your leg with him, his hard cock somehow reaching deeper.

"Together.” you whimper, feeling him stretch you out again and again. He speeds up, slamming into you wildly, your legs shake as you grasp for him, wanting him to be as close as possible. He leans down even more, you feel the strain of your leg muscles as he bends you in ways unknown to you before.

He sinks his teeth into your neck making your eyes roll to the back of your head as your nails claw at his back, sending red streaks across his tattoos.

"Gonna cum…. wanna cum inside you.." he mumbles, his hips moving at an insane pace.

"Cum inside me, baby." you moan, completely losing all sense of anything but him as he fucks you senseless. A few more hard thrusts and you feel his cock twitch, his warm cum spilling into you as he moans your name.

"Fucking Christ." he laughs breathlessly as he collapses on top of you. Both of you lay there silently, your chests rising and falling rapidly as you come down from your high. You run your fingers through his curls as he rests his head on your chest.

After a few minutes you hear the crunching of leaves below you causing you both to sit up suddenly.

"Edward!" Wayne's voice calls from below.

"Shit."

"Come down here and eat your damn dinner.. 20 years old and still playing in a damn treehouse." Wayne mumbles as you hear his footsteps heading back through the woods.

You both look at each other and burst out laughing.

"Dinner, m'lady?" Eddie smirks, rounding up your clothes.

"Dinner sounds perfect.” you smile at him, feeling happier than you’ve ever felt.

[sativaonsaturn]

how i spot the signs

based on risings and sun

♈︎ aries:

scars on the face/ head

freckles

very direct way of speaking; yk what they’re saying the first time they say it. don’t usually have to repeat themselves

sometimes redheaded or dyed red

natural leaders, even if they’re not the leader they tend to naturally command respect

also naturally loud speakers; not obnoxious but you can definitely hear them

usually very friendly if not approachable too

♉︎ taurus:

the women are ALWAYS pretty!! very conventionally attractive faces (venus)

what you see is what you get

usually know exactly what hairstyles/ makeup complement them

voices tend to be flat/ monotone

tend to lean towards earth tones and often even have an olive/ green undertone

♊︎ gemini:

very talkative 😭

men tend to be quite lanky but not very tall

love eccentric clothes/ accessories (ex: one earring, rainbow dyed hair, blonde eyebrows)

everyone knows them and they know everyone, tend to be quite approachable

they get bored quite easily. if you’re dating one, (not even considering venus) they’re likely to be really into you initially and seemingly dial it back out of nowhere or ghost completely 😭

♋︎ cancer:

big titties 😭 (esp rising)

tend to have round faces (moon)

tend to be a bit timid in new environments, talkative when they’re comfortable; cautious people

typically very warm people (sometimes literally), gives mom vibes fr

super funny naturally, true comedians even if they’re just saying what’s on their mind

i’ve noticed cancer artists make really raunchy songs (ex: Work It by Missy Elliot, Big Poppa by Biggie, Candy Shop by 50 Cent)

♌︎ leo:

noticeable hair (ex: big hair, long + healthy hair, unique curl pattern)

everyone knows them, may not know everyone

also natural leaders but tend to be a bit friendlier than aries (and typically more concerned w/ who likes them than aries)

love to laugh! always cracking jokes or finding a way to lighten the mood

command attention (good, bad, or both) immediately and w/out trying

♍︎ virgo:

usually look really focused or deep in thought

can also look far away when you first meet them especially if they’re virgo rising

can be quiet when you first meet them too; usually cause they’re reading the room before they speak

almond/ small eyes

usually have to wear glasses/ contacts

tend to wear earth tones

♎︎ libra:

men look like professors or authors, especially the octobers

september libras seem to loveeee pink

usually quite talkative but also typically read the room well, may even mirror it

tactful/ organized people, again especially octobers

typically love pretty, clean cut things. so clothes are ironed, delicate perfume, earrings always in, hair always done.

libra risings always look like libras 😭 very symmetrical faces, just look like they know a lot

♏︎ scorpio:

usually the hardest to guess

often in the know abt everyone w/out even asking

does someone seem like they’re openly themselves, knows everyone, big personality.. but you also get the feeling you don’t know them at all? probably a scorpio

tend to be the life of the party, definitely know how to have a good time

♐︎ sagittarius:

can be tall or short but the men almost always have very athletic builds

they know everyone and everyone knows of them

talking shit 24/7

tend to be confrontational and blunt people - will absolutely tell somebody like it is

likely a lot of rumors about them. like you may hear about them before you even meet them

very pronounced calves and/or hips

very noticeable/ distinct laugh and voice

tend to have big, bright smiles (ex: Miley Cyrus, Billie Eilish, Colman Domingo)

♑︎ capricorn:

very dry humor

always moving, if they’re not moving they mentally occupied

usually you hear they’ve been independent from an early age

adapt very well, can usually be whatever they need to be for the moment

the women are typically striking or have memorable features (ex: Dolly Parton, Zooey Deschanel, Ice Spice)

the men look strong minded and strong willed (ex: Denzel Washington, LL Cool J, Zayn Malik)

♒︎ aquarius:

often look very lost or in a daze

jokeskers

tend to say things to get a rise out of people but that’s not to say what they’re saying isn’t true; sometimes it’s the way they say it

can sometimes be the smartest in the room; they notice everything and forget nothing + very quick thinkers

women tend to be thick (ex: Megan Thee Stallion, Kenya Moore, Oprah, Uzo Aduba)

♓︎ pisces:

tend to be quite spiritual/ pious people but if not, equally as passionate abt not believing in like a higher power

women usually look ethereal either in dress or face (ex: Lupita Nyong’o, Rihanna, Dakota Fanning, Drew Barrymore)

can act a bit like God’s gift to the earth, especially the men

tend to be frugal and in turn usually very well off or at least comfortable

sativaonsaturn 🪐🍃

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: TOJI

A/N: You’re booked. Busy. Filled to the brim with board meetings. Then your car decides to stop functioning. There’s one mechanic shop open and somehow they seem to only hire God’s sweetest eye candy. One of which keeps getting stuck in the back of your throat. Uh—I mean—

S/N: Toji Mother-Fucking (literally) Fushiguro. Idk why it took me so long to feature this green-eyed monster but I am foaming at the mouth for this AU, him, and his lil vampy co-worker. Toji girlies, can’t WAIT to rush Toji Tau Sigma this fall 🙂‍↕️

C/W: ….he’s his own CW. Mature, 18+. MDNI. 

Art credit: yashaliart_01 on insta

Music: for the love of God if you don’t listen to Obsessed x Mariah Carey I’m calling the coast guard. Reader wants to pretend Toji is not her newest vice so BAD. Ive never laughed so hard and been so painfully turned on writing a piece. SOMEONE tell me not to make this a series RN.

“Can I get a little help here?”

Toji grabs the rag nestled in the back pocket of his heavy work cargos. Charcoal ink stains the fabric. 

Bugatti engines are such a bitch. And make a mess like one too. 

“Hello? Am I talking to a wall or..?”

And just like that, you’ve earned yourself a few more seconds of silence. 

The mechanic’s Evergreen gaze and satisfied smirk peer back at him in the mirror. Not even a second passes before you ensnare him in your fiery scrutiny. 

Ahh, yes. Just his type. 

You are mean. 

With a sexy fucking silhouette. An angry merlot painted on those beautiful, pouted lips. A fresh manicure and keys to your Benz dig into hips that have definitely stopped traffic. 

The mirror image isn’t enough of a bite. Toji needs a real taste, so he turns around to lock eyes with his new favorite unsatisfied customer. 

“Mornin, doll.” 

“Nice of you to grace me with your presence! I was starting to think no one worked here.” 

Melodramatic, the way you narrow your gaze to bring his name tag into focus. It’s hot, though. All this sarcasm and irritation. 

“—Toji? Is it?” You hiss venom. Clearly there’s a point you’re in a hurry to make. 

But..

it’s 7:13 AM on a lovely Monday morning.  Birds are singing. The Red Bull he just downed was particularly delicious. Life is good, right now. 

Toji has all the time in the world. 

He’s in no rush. Especially when a stunning, uptight, bratty little thing — sorry, career woman — like you woke up and chose him to be your personal punching bag. 

And he’s built to take hits. From fists much, much larger than yours, gorgeous.  

“Toji, it is. What can I do for you, darlin?” 

And he knew that sweet, innocent pet name would dump diesel fuel all over those pretty flames. 

You ramble off your full name as if he is going to use it. By the time he’s through with you, you won’t have any use for it either. 

His name, though. You’ll have plenty use for his name. 

“…and when the stupid thing turns on this morning, the dash light won’t turn off.” 

Toji lands on earth just in time to clasp the car keys shoved into his chest. You’re gawking at him. Expecting a fury of motion and urgency. Because your charming little fingers demand it. 

So accustomed to time stopping and starting on your watch, aren’t you? 

“You’re so pretty.” Toji responds with a shit eating grin. 

Just for the huffing and puffing you’re currently displaying. Sputtering about how unprofessional he is. And how much work you have to get done. 

Adorable. 

Toji slips past your disdain and makes his way to the front door. Matte black G-Wagon with a champagne interior. The vision of you behind the wheel, scowling at traffic, in your tailored dress and stilettos makes his cock twitch. 

“She’s a beauty.” He calls from the driver seat. 

“That’s why I bought it. Can you please pick up the pace a little?”

Both arms are folded across your chest, eyes rolling at his wasted breath stating the obvious. 

You’re going to look phenomenal when he has those defiant arms pinned above your head. He’ll diminish those daggers in your eyes to tears. And make those puffy lips whimper for mercy. 

Toji will have you begging him to pick up the pace in no time. Your snarky comment was just a test run. 

The mechanic lets out a low chuckle, his eyes scan the dash for the source of your apparent distress. 

The tire pressure gauge. 

Really, gorgeous? This is why you’re screwed so tightly this morning? 

It should take approximately 3 minutes to fix. But there’s no way Toji is letting you slip away from his skilled fingers so easily. Not when you need to be unwound.

Unraveled bit by bit until you’re a warm, sweet, puddle of manners and gratitude. 

“Alright, babydoll—“

“My name is—“

“I’ll have my guys get to workin on it, sweetheart.” 

He can play this game all day. You scoff. Temporarily placated by his promise of a fix. 

“It’s an all day job, though.” Toji’s right hand man comes into view. 

The only other guy in the shop (on the planet) to get as much play as he does without meaning to. 

Women are insane about his stupid, empty-headed, love-drunk stare. And the purple rings around his eyes like the last time he got sleep was in his mother’s womb. Always giggling and asking about “the hot one with the pigtails” and “the pretty one with the tattoo on his nose.”

If he were a less confident man, Toji would’ve called someone else over. But the kid gets his antics. 

And today is going to be stuffed with them. 

“Choso! Can you take this beauty to the back for repair?” 

Dracula’s first born is sporting his hair down today. Already a bit damp from work. He gives you a once over, then offers a smile that evaporates underwear off of women. 

“Happy to. Which beauty am I taking to the back?”

“Ha, quit your lover boy shit.” Toji teases, and you sneer at his hypocrisy. 

“The car, big guy. Have it ready by 5:00, yeah?”

“5:00 pm?” You do a thing with your hands eventually landing on your hips. And Toji’s dick leaks like a virgin. 

“Well, there must be a courtesy rental. My first meeting starts in an hour.”

“I’m so sorry, miss. We don’t have that.” 

Kamo, you slick fuck. 

Choso apologizes with his signature puppy-eyes and half open mouth. Even you, made of sharp words and soft curves. Goddess of Fire and Ice, you melt under his gaze. 

Toji snickers to himself, while you stutter to a shockingly patient understanding. 

Something about the boy looking half asleep and like he can’t string letters together to spell his own name always does the trick. Leaving you wide open for the kill. 

“Tell you what, sweetheart.” Toji moves in with an assassin’s expertise. 

“Consider me your courtesy rental.”

“I’m sorry—what?” You flicker between the two smiles, rightfully suspicious. 

“I’ll get you from point A to point B, safe and sound.” The mechanic offers again with a broad smile, dangling his own car keys in his hand. 

Pensive eyes drop down to your watch. Board meetings start soon and he is offering a courtesy ride. 

“Fine.” Finally, a little submission. 

“It’s a 10 minute drive. The high rise on the corner of Koen and Mitake street.” 

The financial district. No wonder why you’re so tightly wound. 

“I know exactly, where we are going.” Toji beams. Beating your slender fingers to the passenger door. You barely mutter a ‘thanks’ before settling into the seat. 

You in your heels. And suit jacket. And handbag that costs enough to feed a large family for 6 months. Nestled so perfectly into his passenger seat. Toji can’t help but acknowledge how hard his dick is right now. 

The career woman clearly doesn’t approve of how fast he is hurling down corner streets. But you should understand, no? Places to be, and all that jazz?

“Uh, I’m sorry, where exactly are you taking me?” You perk up. Darting those beautiful warm eyes at the very short building in front of you. 

Not the corner of Koen and Mitake street, but Toji’s favorite coffee shop about 3 blocks over. The only place in the city that can get an Americano right - La Parisian. 

Toji grins maniacally. Pulling his sports car into a front row spot. 

“Point A, darlin.”

“Look, I don’t know what kind of game you are playing but I swear—“

“C’monnn. Lighten up.” He turns to face your incredulous expression. You wear it well, by the way.

“People stand when you walk in a room.” He continues. “They’ll still stand if you’re 5 minutes late and properly caffeinated.” 

Silence. Two huffs. A bitten lower lip. And one long, drawn out sigh.

“Fine. 5 minutes, max. Then I’ve got to get going I have—“

“Meetings baby, I know.” Toji finishes you off. 

He steps out of the driver’s seat fast enough to be at your door before your fingers touch the handle. 

The two of you walk in stride (in Toji’s mind) to the cafe. It’s adorable how you beeline towards the pastry display. Salivating over the various treats. Doing the thing women do, badgering the person manning the register about nutritional details. 

As if your figure wouldn’t make any living red-blooded human being fall to their knees. 

“What can I get started for you?” The barista probes. 

“I’ll have a soy London Fog latte, please.” You flicker over to the dessert you think you’re leaving behind. 

“And?” Toji probes. He taps the glass in front of the vanilla macaroon.

Another crack in the shield. You flash him a genuine smile for 0.04 seconds before turning back to the register.

“…and a vanilla macaroon, please.” You’re cute when you’re sheepish. 

“And I’ll have the largest iced Americano you can make, thanks.” 

Toji closes out the transaction and you two mosey over to a small table by a window. Your shoulders relax with the first sip of coffee. 

A satisfied grin tugs on your chauffeur’s lips. He knew what you needed the second he laid eyes on you. 

Much to your chagrin, and Toji’s delight — conversation flows like a bottomless well between you. The second something warm and another thing sweet landed on your tongue — the shield crumbled down. 

You’re an account executive. 

You work 80+ hour weeks. 

Live in an uppity neighborhood with a Doberman named Rocky. You got him because you like walking around at night to clear your mind. Having a dog taller than you on its hind legs and probably twice your size has eased your anxiety about that. 

You have a mean sweet tooth. 

And you’re single. Have been for the last year or so. 

“And not looking to change that anytime soon.” You reiterate, tossing him a look. 

Toji holds his hands up in feigned defeat. “I wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweetheart.” 

You’ve warmed up to his pet names, albeit against your will. But you’re there. The both of you harmonize light-hearted laughter. Fitting together like missing puzzle pieces.

“Your eyes are so green.” 

A rather obvious observation of your own, after a few moments of comfortable silence. 

As if your eyes don’t bend time. 

Toji catches his breath before responding. 

“They are…your kids could have ‘em too, if you want.” 

You burst into another fit of giggles. Unknowingly driveling rogue pastry on your chin. Babbling on and on about how ridiculous he is. And how cheesy his pick up lines are.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there all high powered and intelligent. With a smile that makes him want to be a better man than he is. 

…and pastry all over your chin. 

Yeah. 

He’s going to marry you one day. 

Toji reaches over and swipes the macaroon off your chin. A sharp gasp tumbles from your lips, staring at his fingers. Which Toji slips into his mouth. 

He’s a betting man and would put money down on the fact that the dessert tastes exponentially better off of your skin. 

“Toji!!” 

“What else can I do for you?” Each word more smug than the last. 

“You could’ve told me I had food on my face!” Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you frown and Toji’s cock throbs to life. 

“Why?” The mechanic shrugs. “I wanted to lick it off instead.” 

The choppy inhale is music to Toji’s ears. You avoid him. Like the plague. Peeling your gaze away and planting it on the side window. Under the guise of people watching. 

But Toji knows better. 

He doesn’t miss the way you struggle to swallow your last bite. Or your thighs coming together so aggressively beneath the small table, rip tides break the surface of his Americano. 

“I felt that, baby.” Toji leans in. Shameless about the way he scans your face. 

Your lips should be outlawed.

The bottom one is marginally fuller than the top, so it naturally hangs a bit open. Inviting the most vile thoughts from his cock. Toji’s rational mind went to sleep the second you climbed into his passenger seat, princess. 

“What?” You sputter, gulping down the rest of your U.K. cloudy cappuccino, or whatever. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Your voice is steady, but the fidgeting and cagey eye contact hold the truth. 

Oh, really? 

“You’re squirming in your seat.” Toji counters, unblinking. Filling as much of your personal space as he can without tipping over. 

“Quick to cross your legs—“

“Toji!” 

Is your underwear as sticky as your face is flushed? Saliva pools in one direction, warm pre-cum pools in the other. 

“You are so out of—“

“All that talkin’ and you haven’t denied it once, doll.”

Toji’s palm digs into his crotch underneath the table. You are fucking his brain smooth with the raspberry blush along your nose and high cheeks. Sure, the sarcasm and ball-busting is hot, but this? 

The Career Woman suddenly so flustered and shy? 

You’re already thawed out. All he needs to do is dive in. 

Toji blinks back to reality when you rocket up from the table at warped speed. Your fingers clumsily fondle the zipper of your purse. 

“Excuse me for a minute.” You’re halfway to the restroom stalls by the end of your sentence.

The mechanic lasers down to the serpentine curve of your hips. Your plump, perky ass is just begging to be handled. It’s a felony, the way your work dress hugs your body. 

Is he really going to do this?

Heat slams into his groin. Wave after wave of lust slowly chipping at his teetering self-control. 

You might slap him. 

Call him a goddamn pervert. 

…and just the thought of either of those things makes his dick beat against his zipper. 

Fuck it. 

Toji is slick, how he maneuvers his way over to the restrooms. Both single-use stalls occupied, he walks up to you muttering some kind of pep talk to yourself. 

“Get your shit together.” You spit out. 

Amused, Toji leans against the wall behind you. Curious about where this cute little speech is going to go. 

“He’s a rando you met at a mechanic shop. For fuck sake, are you that horny?”

“Sounds like it, baby.” Toji takes the liberty to answer. You whip your head around and crawl out of your skin. 

Eyes wider than a newborn kitten. Mouth gaping as if you’re trying to show off how much you can handle. Toji swallows a groan. He can’t lose control. Not a chance. He has to savor his first taste of you like this. And every taste after that. 

Because, the weather in Hell is a balmy 0 degrees Fahrenheit and you are his, now. 

“I—uh, I—“ Your eyes dart over to the poor soul opening the bathroom door in slow motion. 

You think you’ve found an out, gorgeous?

Toji is faster and bigger than you are. Gripping the handle of the open door, ushering you into his new lair. Still choking on the shock of him catching your admission, you look to your left and right before diving into the empty bathroom. 

“Toji I…” 

Your back hits the wall and eyes settle on your hands. Shifty and nervous. Toji palms himself at the sight of you caged in like this. 

He’s disgusting, he knows that. 

And normally, he would ask permission. Being a gentleman and all. 

But there’s something too alluring about the way you’re trembling right now. The obvious conflict written all over your face, and heaving chest…and tense thighs…

His cock can’t take another second. 

And apparently neither can you. 

Because the second his fingers cup the back of your neck and his breath grazes your mouth you crash into him. Slotting your puffy lips into his, taking him by surprise for a millisecond. 

“Oh, T-toji.” You whine into his mouth. Grasping at his shoulders that are far too wide, far too muscular for your dainty grip.

Fucking, christ. 

Hearing his name like that. 

The gorgeous, high-pitched, pathetic plea trails down his ears to his aching sex and jerks it. If his cargos were any lighter you would’ve seen the pre-pubescent mess he’s making in his pants right now. 

But they aren’t. And you don’t. 

You mewl at how Toji nips at your bottom lip. Sinking it underneath his teeth until its swells to his liking. Melting beneath his large grasp, currently riding the dizzying lines of your hips and ass. 

“You taste fucking good, baby.” Toji mumbles into your warm cavern. Licking along the warm, soft ridges. 

“Ah-T..god.” You pull away and dive into his neck. Attempting to hide your utterly fucked out daze, but he won’t let you. 

Toji palms your ass with a tenth of his strength. You yelp and jump into his arms. He takes advantage of the momentum and lifts you high on his waist. Temporarily forcing you to look down on him.

Glassy eyed. Kiss abused lips. Panting and heaving. Cupping his face like your hands were made to. 

And something tight clenches in Toji’s chest. It takes a moment for him to shake it off, but it existed.

He’ll revisit that later.

“You look good up there, babydoll.” He pants, before setting you down on the sink ledge. He catches your chin in his hand before you turn away. Rooting you in place. 

“I…Toji.” 

Moaning his name like you’re begging for him to start and stop all at once. 

Your eyes descend to his lips. Watching the smirk blossoming across his face. Distracted enough not to notice his free hand shove up your dress in one swift motion. 

Your thighs recognize his authority and melt wide open for him. He kisses your tiny whimpers while nestling between them. 

“Mmmgh g-god please.” 

“This why you were so bratty this mornin baby?” 

Toji’s index and long fingers stroke your soaked, clothed core. Thin lace panties plastered to your warm sex. You wind your hips into his fingers. Batting your eyelashes up at him as if he’s going to give you what you want so easily.

He hovers his lips over yours. Pulling away each time you lunge forward for a kiss. Pouty and frustrated, you dig your nails into his neck and grind along his stationary fingers. 

“T-Toji, please…I’m so..ahh.”

“Needy cunt just wanted some attention, mm?” 

His fingers slip past your opening, and you offer up a soprano moan that shatters to stardust. 

Hedonistic noises fill the spaces between both of your punched out gasps. You’re fucking tight. Gummy, slick walls clamp down around his knuckles when he curves up to pet your pleasure spot. 

The steel pipe between his legs throbs against his thigh. Demanding friction. But one hand is cupping your chin and the other is so pussy drunk an army couldn’t pry his fingers away. 

“T..I—I’m oh fuck I—“

Toji bites down on your bottom lip. And you clench around him. Gushing more of your sweet arousal into his palm. And he damn near laps it up with his greedy tongue. 

“Shhh baby,” he coos against your jaw. 

“Can’t have everyone hearing the Executive getting fucked open by some mechanic’s hands can you?” 

There is a delicious irony in you treating him like a punching bag no more than an hour ago and now bucking your hips on his fingers, chasing an ever elusive high.

Sandpaper lines Toji’s throat. 

He wants nothing more than to bounce you on his cock in this bathroom. Fill you up with his cum and send you to your meetings full of him. 

But you haven’t learned your lesson yet.

“What did I promise baby?” Toji strains in your ear. His hand migrates from your chin to your neck, while his fingers ‘pick up the pace a little.’

His pretty little powerhouse. 

You babble a chorus of nothing. Unable to breathe, unable to think. Only drip. And leak. And squelch around his digits. Toji tightens the grip around your pulse point. Lulling your mouth open.  

“Talk to me, princess. What did I promise you?” He probes again, stealing air from your lungs. 

Tha—y-you would…p—point A.” Barely audible syllables tumble out of you. Ascending in pitch. Your hips reflexively try to pull away from your threatened orgasm.

“Keep going, I’m listenin.” 

“Oh fuck T..Toji?! I-Im c-im gonna—”

“I know, baby.” He smears wet kisses along your jawline. “ I can hear how messy your precious little pussy is. But I didn’t give you permission to stop. Keep going.”

Your walls spasm at his command. Followed by an angelic pitiful little whine. You’re close. So close. 

“P-P-point A to—“

“Point B.” 

Toji finishes your sentence as you reach nirvana. Full body convulsions. He slots his arms around the small of your waist. And it fits like it was molded for him. Like you were sculpted for him.

And he, for you.

The mechanic burns his gaze into your skin. Riding each choppy wave of your ecstasy. Such tiny, sexy sounds. Staccato breaths fanning his lips, his chin, his neck when you try to hide from his scrutiny. 

You are a goddamn dream. 

And his future wife.

Toji guessed it when the macaroon balanced on your chin for a full 30 seconds before he swiped it away and you accused him of defamation of character. 

But now? 

Watching you saddle this stallion of an orgasm. Clawing at his back with all the desperation of a pretty little damsel in distress. 

Distress at just his fingers, alone. 

What intoxicating melody will he unlock when he laps up the honey straight from your core? How will you gasp and moan and squirm when he single-handedly re-shapes your cunt to accommodate his size? 

He has no clue. 

But Toji will spend forever figuring you out. And mastering you.

The back of your neck fits beautifully into his grasp as he coaxes you from hiding. Pupils blown out. Cheeks flushed and warm. Tendrils matted along your forehead. Before he can speak, you beat him to the punch.

Of course you do. 

“I’ve decided,” You pant. The baseline spice returning to your grin. 

“That you might just be obsessed with me, Toji.” 

Both of you share a hushed laugh. Exchanging cotton candy breaths. But then his lips accidentally brush yours and Toji can’t help but dive in for a kiss. Fucking the warm cavern of your mouth with his tongue. 

You pull away before he’s ready, with a look on your face that makes him feel like a God. 

“I might be.” Toji whispers, partially against his will. His lips find the corner of your mouth. Careful to avoid falling victim to your pout again.

“Let’s get you to the other point B, baby.” 

The car ride to your office could make anyone queasy. 

Constant banter back and forth. Full bodied laughs. You mindlessly stroking his forearm with those angelic fingers riling his cock up as if it just now discovered women. 

You let out a small sigh, with slightly dropped shoulders when your office building comes into view. Toji doesn’t know how to interpret it. But for him? Reality is coming too quickly.

“So,” You start once the both of you are out of the car. Pretty face tilting up and Toji’s dick strains against its confines.

“What do I owe you, Mr. Fushiguro?” 

The way you say his name.

It takes the will of God for Toji to bite back his original response.

“Nothin, doll.” He’s wearing the same, dumb, love-struck face Choso wears on a daily basis. Shockingly, Toji couldn’t care less. 

“The tires just needed air. Choso will drop it off in an hour.” 

He would do it himself. But the urge to park in an empty lot and abuse the fuck out of his cock until a shred of clarity re-settles in his mind is a tad bit overwhelming, sweetheart.

Then your mouth drops in an incredulous ‘Oh’ and all Toji can picture is ruining the back of your throat. How pretty you are going to be wretching around his girth. Gasping for air. Choking on his cum. 

“Toji. Fushiguro.” You like using his name, don’t you?

“You held me hostage for a whole morning for some air—“

Toji kisses the rest of your complaints off your tongue. And you whine. Slot open for him with no resistance. Because under all that irritation and sarcasm, buried within the Trojan Horse, lays your supple, delectable submission. 

And he will take every opportunity to taste it. 

“I had a great time on our first date, babydoll.” Toji rasps against your swollen lips. 

The raging erection is threatening to embarrass him. There’s not enough restraint in the world to be around you any longer. Toji nestles your voice in his back pocket. The two of you watch each other with wordless, taken aback smiles as he takes slow steps toward his sports car.

Before the mechanic sinks into the driver’s seat, he makes a promise.

“Can’t wait for our second date, Mrs. Fushiguro!”

[heartzfromel]

Rio x fem!reader (fluff and/or hurt comfort plz)

not good enough || rio vidal x fem!reader

summary; you meet your love again after one hundred years

warnings; agatha all along ep 7 spoilers, canon character death, reader has a small injury, kissing, pining, reader and rio are both kinda idiots, rio and reader are both touchy w each other, main story set after first witches road trial, rio and agatha are not romantically involved

rio vidal had been the only constant friend you’d had in your whole life, but your situation was quite complicated. you were a centuries old witch and, whist technically she was too, she was also death personified, meaning she had a lot of work to do. your friend wasn’t around much, leaving you alone a lot. sometimes you wouldn’t see her for sixty or seventy years at a time. this time, it had been a lot longer than that. that fact tended to leave a pit in your stomach, especially considering your last interaction.

1924

you were sitting in your cabin, your best friend lying next to you, the pair of you giggling into the night, until you were both facing each other. it was very clear that the energy had shifted from lighthearted fun, to something else entirely. in all honesty, it sort of made you feel uneasy, but then again everything rio ever did brought up that feeling. it made most people withdraw from her company, but it only intrigued you more.

currently, her eyes were fixed on yours. you held her gaze. it was clear she was fighting with herself internally to keep her eyes off of your lips, but after a few moments of tension-filled silence, she gave in, her eyes darting to your cherry red lips for only a split second, before you licked them and her eyes darted back up to meet yours once again. it was now that you had realised the position that you had been laying in, your hand lazily on her waist whilst hers rested on top wearily. you moved your hand up, with an uncertain energy, as if one wrong move would ruin what was happening. you moved your hand up to her neck, rubbing it gently, and then up to her face as you caressed it gently. her hand has moved more confidently on to your waist, as she squeezed it lightly. you had hoped she hadn’t caught your breath hitch, but the ghost of a smirk on her face told you that she absolutely had. you could feel her breath, hot and shaky on your face. your hand moved to play with her hair, and with a final burst of confidence, you leaned in to kiss her. just as your lips met hers, you were apart again. she moved her hands from you quickly and jolted to sit up in bed. you looked at her again, but the expression on her face was not one you were familiar with.

“rio, i’m sorry-“ you began. what had you just done?

“i have to go.” she whispered, and just like that it was almost as if she were never there.

2026

it was today that your lovely acquaintance, agatha harkness, had decided to make herself your problem as she practically forced you down the witches road. you didn’t really know why you’d shown up, considering the last time you walked the road together she almost you you slashed into a million pieces, but you went along anyway. when you arrived at her extremely un-agatha like house, you were met with a ragtag group of witches and one random lady that you were sure that the rest of the coven had also noticed. unfortunately the woman had passed away during your first trial, and you were left angrier at agatha than you were before, because she could’ve got you all killed by not drinking that wine. you were ready to force it down her throat at one point.

one of the witches, a tall woman dressed head to toe in pink, had suggested summoning a green witch to the road, since they didn’t actually have one. none of you seemed against the idea, and so that’s exactly what you did. had you known what was going to happen mere moments later, you’d have an entirely different opinion.

agatha’s coven all stood still anticipating the arrival of the new green witch, you were a bit less interested, just wanting to leave, and so were not fully paying attention until a single hand shot up from under the ground. a hand that, embarrassingly, you still recognised. the pit that formed in your stomach was one you’d never felt, and it got so much worse when her full figure came into view. she hadn’t aged a day, well she had, she’s aged over a hundred years, but she still looked exactly the same as she did that night in the cabin. as she introduced herself, you hid yourself from view behind the lady dressed in pink, jen, who you’d decided was the only tolerable one here, but it was no use. she had seen you.

“y/n…” she smirked. this earned looks from the whole coven, considering her dramatic entrance.

“i have to go.”

you felt ill as you turned your heel and walked swiftly in the other direction. “maybe this is my trial?” you thought hopefully, praying that you’d turn around and the coven would all be dressed in hideous outfits that the road had picked out for them, but no, when you turned around, you were met by the hypnotic gaze of rio.

“y/n…” she began, “been a while.”

“don’t.” you snapped, “don’t even try.”

“what’s the problem?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“what’s the problem? rio its been over a hundred years.” you spat, malice dripping from your tone. she seemed to enjoy it.

“i’ve been… busy.” she replied playfully.

you didn’t respond.

carefully, she waded over to you, placing a hand on your lower back and using the other to grab your face to look at her.

not breaking eye contact, she brought her hand down to your collarbone, dragging her fingertips along a gash that you’d received from broken glass in the trial. you shuddered at the coldness of her touch. it brought you back to that night, because the only time you’d ever felt her heat up, was when your hand was on her face in the cabin.

her eyes met yours once again and she smiled gently, the same smile she’d smiled all those years ago, before leaning into you.

“rio.” you mumbled, stopping her. you looked up at her with conflicted eyes.

“come on,” she whispered, “look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing for me.”

“well clearly that’s not the case, rio, is it?” you spat, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill.

“so what’s the problem?” she asked, both hands now on your face.

“you shut me down the last time, remember?” you spoke, trying your best to drill into her head what she had done to you. “and then you think if you show up here a hundred years later and give me a kiss it’s all gonna be okay?”

“do you know why i left that night?” she whispered, dragging a cold hand into your hair, your eyes threatening to close at her action.

“oh, please, lady death, enlighten me! why did you leave me for a hundred years?” you asked, sarcasm lacing your tone. you caught her slight demeanor change at the use of her title, but it faded quickly.

“i was scared.”

and you couldn’t help but let yourself laugh humourlessly in her face.

“of what, rio, tell me what you were so scared of.”

“that i was’t good enough for you.” she replied, talking to the floor.

“don’t, you’ll set me off again.” wiping tears of laughter from your flushed cheeks.

she didn’t say anything.

“oh.” was all you could muster, “you’re serious?”

she could only nod.

subconsciously your hands wrapped around her waist, before they traveled up to her face.

“well you’re wrong.” you whispered, as she leaned into your touch.

“am i?” she asked, being more serious than you’d ever saw her.

“please, trust me, you’re the only one good enough for me, rio.” you replied, eyes never leaving hers.

“is that right?” she smirked, her confident demeanour reappearing.

“would i have said it if it wasn’t?” you smiled.

“so are you gonna let me kiss you now, or…” rio smirked, one hand grabbing at your waist, the other fidgeting with a strand of your hair.

“come here, you idiot.” you giggled, as you pulled her closer to you, and she grabbed your face to close the gap between you. kissing rio was a difficult feeling to describe, the best way you could would be to say that it’d be the same feeling you’d experience if you set foot in antarctica with no jacket, but it didn’t bother you, as long as you could do this again.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Clean [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After a difficult mission, your ex Loki has a revelation. (w/c 1.6k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Mild angst. Pining. Feelings. Smuttish. Loki x Fem Reader. A/N: I'm planning some filthy stuff soon - but for now, we're still in angsty romance era. 😇

Loki sat hunched with his back against the bathroom wall, head in his hands. Blood was smeared over the white shirt: his own and not his own. It was ripped in several places, sleeves folded up to the elbows.

“It wasn’t locked,” you said stiffly, fingers tightening around the knob. “Would it have mattered? I expect you’re quite desperate to see me like this.” He tilted his head, voice sharp, eyes tired. “Don’t you wish to capture the scene on your device? Surely Rogers would relish a commemoration of my ineptitude.”

Loki had made a scene as the team exited the Quinjet, throwing his ruined suit jacket off the roof of Stark Tower and kicking a fire bucket for good measure. His voice was choked with anger.

“Let me be,” he’d roared after Steve shouted something about medical in his direction. The Captain had turned to the rest of you with a defeated shrug, but your eyes hadn't left Loki's back as he waged a path though the doors and they slammed behind him in a flash of green.

Loki had taken the worst of the heat from the Hydra agents working undercover in downtown Chicago. He’d been cornered by three of them, and soon a capture order had turned into a triple kill—but not before taking some punishment for his efforts.

‘I tried to subdue them humanely,’ Loki had muttered afterwards, inspecting a deep gash on his forehead in the Quinjet’s sheen. ‘They wouldn’t listen to reason.’ ‘How hard did you try?’ Steve had sniped. ‘We’re in a pickle now, thanks Laufeyson. A real pickle indeed. Typical.’ To that, Loki had said nothing. He’d refused all clean-up on the way home, sitting in a fury-riddled silence that tainted the re-circulated air.

You took a step over the bathroom’s boundary, and then shrank back.

Relations between you had been frosty since you’d gone your separate ways: to this day you weren’t quite sure what had happened. One day, everything was perfect. The next—it was over. You’d chalked it up to the god settling in to life on Earth; him realising you weren’t the only person on the planet who thought the sun shone from his perfectly formed arse…but that had never felt right. Despite snooping, you’d never got a whiff of him shagging anyone else. Based on your experience with Loki, that was especially odd.

You took a deep breath, crossing the floor and extending a hand. To your surprise, he took it and heaved himself up. Fuck, you’d forgotten how heavy he was; how his forearms bulged when they flexed, how his body felt pressing down on yours as he railed you gently on the bed you’d shared.

Ok, maybe not that last one. You cleared your throat, pulling your hand back. Loki sighed, eyes cast to the floor.

“I’m filthy,” he said with an air of disgust, reflexively running a hand across his waist. Pain rippled across his features.

“You’re hurt, you need to go to—” “I’m quite well.” “Loki,” you warned. His lashes fluttered up, nailing his gaze to yours. An eyebrow cocked. Feeling your cheeks heat, you turned and switched on the shower. “Steve shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier,” you said, trying to keep the flurry of nerves from your voice. “You did what you had to do—they’d have killed you.” “Please,” Loki snorted. “They would not have killed me. I’m offended that you would even imply it.” You glanced over your shoulder. Even in his dishevelled state, he was giving every inch the haughty, regal snob that you’d fallen desperately in love with. And that was the problem, wasn't it? It was the only version of him you'd ever been granted.

“Then why are you in such a state?” Loki’s brow furrowed. “A what?” “Why are you upset?” “I’m not upset.” “You were literally sitting on the floor with your head in your hands.” “It’s an Asgardian victory custom.” “Loki…”

His jaw clenched as you leant against the sink and his keen eyes darted over your face. “I…tried not to kill them,” he said through gritted teeth. It was the same voice he’d used when the two of you had ‘the conversation’—you hadn’t heard it since. An icy finger trailed down your spine at the bitterness in his voice as he said, “I failed.”

Understanding blossomed through your mind. You remembered a cold winter’s night, Loki curled naked against your back, confessing his deepest secret while he thought you’d slept. I’m afraid I’ll never be good, he’d whispered in the dark; that I’ll always be stained with the curse of my past.

You realised the mask of stoicism had slipped from your face at the exact moment Loki’s expression shifted. His gaze broke, returning to the floor. “You should leave,” he said. “You’re not safe with me.” The echo of the last time you’d been alone together—the same words. Does he remember?

Pushing off the sink, you shuffled towards him, cupping his forearm. The grit of dried blood rubbed beneath your fingertips as you squeezed. “You can’t think that. It’s been years…”

Suddenly Loki’s hands ran up your cheeks, thumbs pressing into your jaw as your back met the wall. He’d pinned you under the shower, speckles of water hitting off his shoulder and splattering your skin. His eyes searched yours: all fire, and destiny.

“I’ll never be free,” he said. His gaze dropped to your lips and back to your eyes. “I’ll never be clean.”

You caressed the well-trodden path his buttons made up the front of his shirt. Still beautifully tailored despite the dirt, and sweat, and blood. “Not with that attitude,” you said, and his brows peaked. “Everyone knows your history, Loki. We need you here. We want you here.” “And you?”

The shower seemed very loud all of a sudden. Especially me. “You really have to ask?” You brushed the sides of his shirt apart and Loki swallowed, his eyes closing a heartbeat too long as your fingers lingered on the bruise forming over the flat of his abdomen. “Loki…” you chided, tracing the blossom of indigo across his alabaster skin. “Steve was right, you should be in medical.” He snorted, hands falling by his sides. “If you’d come five minutes later, it would have been gone.” Fat droplets of water roll over the tips of his cheekbones, streaks of pale skin beneath the dust and dirt of the mission. You’ve never seen him like this. He never let you see anything other than the perfect prince; the unshakeable god. “Doesn’t it hurt?” You circled higher on his chest, appreciating the taut skin firm beneath your own. You'd swear you could see the thrum of his heartbeat.

“Always,” he said sadly, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t talking about the injuries. God, I miss this. I miss him. Now, finally, you could admit it to yourself. The weight of the confession slid from your body, circling the drain as Loki shivered, and the dark pools of his pupils spread wider.

Cautiously, your hands ran up his chest, over his shoulders, peeling the soaking shirt from his back and down his arms. It fell with a slop to the shower floor.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a faint narrow of his eyes. You licked your lips, unsure of what how to answer. What are you doing? But it was now or never. This kind of vulnerability was a particularly rare ship to dock in Loki’s harbour.

Running your palms up his neck, he groaned softly as they slid up the sharp prow of his jawline, up the bladed cheekbones and into the slick of his sodden hair. He closed his eyes, a low sigh rattling his chest. For a moment, there was only the patter of water against porcelain.

“Showing you how to be clean again,” you whispered before your lips fastened to his. Loki’s eyes shot open, one hand slamming to the tiles behind your shoulder to steady himself as you pulled away. Your heart thumped between your ribs.

Oh god, he doesn’t want it. You’ve fucked it up. Memories of the longing glances you’d seen painted on his face across the room, the brush of his touch on your arm which lasted a second too long, the anger simmering beneath his skin when he thought you’d moved on. It had all been in your head. The thought was almost too much to bear.

“Why did you stop?”

Breath caught in your throat as his words soaked through the rising steam; low and smooth. The response fell from your mouth in breathless stages, hyper-focused on the shirt plastered to his skin. “I didn’t think you wanted it, I’m sorry I—” A soft, disbelieving chuckle rumbled in his throat before he said, “How could I not want you?” Your eyes rose.

The god was fully soaked now; hair plastered to his neck like ink, shirt and trousers moulded to the sinews and meat of his body like a second skin. The last traces of dirt from his skin were gone, and the water around your feet ran clear. You pulled the back of his neck towards you.

Loki’s kiss was an eruption of desire, of pain, of need; his palm slipping on the tile behind your head before switching to your waist. It worked over your hip, your breasts, your ass, never staying in one place, never lingering too long. “Gods, I missed you, I've missed you,” he murmured wet against your cheek. You crossed your arms over your chest, pulling the sodden top over your head. “So soon?” A soft smile curled at his mouth. “We’ve wasted enough time, haven’t we?”

In answer, Loki ran a finger from the hollow of your neck between your breasts. A chill skated across your skin as your trousers dissolved— his too. He pressed his body to yours, warm against the sharp sting of the tiles. Water pooled in the crevice where your skin met, Loki’s kisses sliding over your lips—one slipping into the next—pants of devotion wisping down your throat. He lifted your thigh, manoeuvring himself inside with one, liquid movement. You clasped to his shoulders, nails digging in to his flesh like he might vanish. All you could feel was his body, his presence, his faint moan of relief in your ear.

“No more living in the past,” you panted. “Loki, promise me.” He tilted his cheek into your wrist, water droplets falling from the ends of his hair to the curve of your breasts below. “A fresh start,” he said quietly, kissing the delicate skin. You groaned as he thrusted gently inside you. “Clean,” he panted, “New.” “Together,” you said. “Together,” Loki replied.

And then, among plumes of steam and the slide of bodies and wordless promises, there was no more talking.

Tags in comments ❤️

[tojirights]

Honestly think you're one of the best writers for Alastor in this fandom! Your stuff is always brilliant and the characterisation is perfect!

Had the idea last night: Alastor and reader going multiple rounds, and reader still wanting more and being full of energy but Alastor being absolutely out of it and completely shattered, so he uses his tentacles instead, because what kind of gentleman keeps his lady wanting?

Just an excuse to request tentacle sex with everyone's favourite "deer".

a/n: im gonna be so real with you, im not really sure if the tentacles are like, real apendages or if they're part of his shadow soooo i wrote them as the latter. hope it makes sense!! thank you love :') y'all are too nice 🩷

if there was one thing you weren’t expecting to still have in hell, it was your damn hormonal cycle. you didn’t necessarily have a period, but by god, you swore you still ovulated. it felt even worse than before, the primal need threatened to burn a hole through you. you always felt like a bother to alastor during this week of the month, begging and pleading for him to fuck you for hours. but, alastor never turned you away.

today though, you were especially needy. alastor had already made you cum a handful of times and had cum twice himself. he was exhausted. yet, there you were at the edge of his bed, eyes still filled with lust. “my goodess…” alastor chuckles, shaking his head. “i’m not sure i have much left in the tank, darling.” he cups your cheek, watching tears well up in your eyes. “i-i’m sorry-” he shushes you before you can continue. “did i say anything about stopping? i’d never dream of leaving my lady hanging when she needs me.”

“but…” you frown, watching alastor’s smile turn to smirk. “i have a few tricks up my sleeve, my dear. lay back.” your eyes widen as there’s a flash of green light, followed by five tentacle-like appendages sprout from alastor’s back. “w-what?” adrenaline surges through you as well as a mix of excitement and nerves. “you’re gonna… use those?” you gulp, watching the tentacles slither towards you. “why of course!” alastor snickers, seeing your apprehension. “don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours." he coos, watching with hungry yet tired eyes.

the shadow apendages wrap around your thighs, cold to the touch but not unpleasant. as they slowly spread your legs, another slides between them. it's almost embarrassing the way your legs shake with anticipation, the cool tip of the tentacles swiping up your slit. "o-oh, that's..." you sigh in relief when you're suddenly being filled. "how's that darling?" alastor hums, watching as you open wider around him. "that's... oh god alastor..." you pant, every slow thrust of his tentacle-like shadow making your head dizzy.

the foreign feeling of being stretched so wide has you already teetering on the edge. without warning, alastor curls the apendage while picking up pace, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. "gonna-" you mewl, hips arching off the bed with every thrust. "k-keep going please. 'm gonna cum." every whine makes alastor almost wish his cock was back inside of you, knowing just how hard you're clamping down on his shadow.

but the sight of you writhing, gripping the sheets like you're life depended on it was something he's grateful to be seeing from afar. the buildup to your orgasm comes strong, the coil in your stomach snapping from the tension and- "oooh, you really liked that, hm?" alastor's voice is heavy with arousal, pulling you back to reality after cumming. your vision slowly returns, heavy breathing filling your ears. you barely register the soaking mess you've made on the bed. "oh my god. did i..?" your face goes red, embarrasmemt setting in once again. "yes, my sweet. you did, and made quite the mess for us to clean up."

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ oh captain, my captain ] q. hughes

day 2 of kinktober (captain kink w/ quinn hughes)

➾ paring : Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

➾ summary : Quinn’s girlfriend calls him "Cap" after hearing the nickname come from his teammates, and Quinn reacts totally normally

➾ warning(s) : smut !! captain kink, light dom!quinn, nicknames during sex, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), very slight hair pulling (blink and you'll miss it)

➾ author’s note : i am Not gonna lie … this has been living in a word doc unfilnished for months so i thought that this would be the perfect time to finish it and let it out to see the light of day. enjoy :)))

kinktober schedule

༺──────────────༻

When her boyfriend asked her a few weeks ago to accompany him to an event that the Canucks were holding, she was not looking forward to it at all. It's a very private event that the Canucks hold at the start of every season for new Canucks to get to know their new teammates and for returning Canucks to catch up. She's managed to be busy on this day for the past two years of their relationship so she didn't have to go, but she can't dodge the event any longer. Especially now that Quinn is captain.

The dress she bought for this event is stunning and she couldn't wait to wear it to the event. It's a sparkly navy blue number that hugs her curves. The thin straps hold up a plunging v-neckline that shows off her cleavage in a way that Quinn loves. There's a high slit in the skirt that goes about halfway up her thigh.

She feels like she could've dressed a little more modestly when she walks into the ballroom and finds that a lot of the women dressed in more high cut and full length gowns. She crosses her arms over her chest in an attempt to cover her exposed cleavage.

A couple of Quinn's teammates greet their captain as soon as the two of them walk into the large room decorated in blue, green, and white. She hears the nickname "Cap" thrown around as a few of the veteran Canucks greet him. That's a new nickname that catches her attention immediately.

The significant others of the teammates that greet Quinn greet her. She does her best to hold a conversation with the group of women but her eyes continue to shift toward her boyfriend in his suit. He has on one of his game day suits from last season that doesn't really fit him anymore so it hugs his arms and thighs nicely.

"Your dress is beautiful, by the way," Lexie Demko compliments. She turns her attention to Thatcher's wife. "I mean it. It's stunning. I guess it's to be expected for the captain's girlfriend to sparkle." The group of women laugh and she forces a smile.

Sometimes she questions if she should be the one leading this group of women because she's only 23 and still kind of young. It's one thing for Quinn to lead the Canucks because he's a natural leader and knew he was probably going captain this team one day. He's had a lifetime of experience because he's the oldest of three brothers.

She was kind of thrust into the role of lead WAG with his captaincy appointment last season. Her version of being a leader means being the one that plans the parties and plans the playoff attire. Making sure all the other wives and girlfriends are okay, making sure they catch their flights to make it to whatever city they're following their boyfriend or husband to so she can watch him play. It's no NHL team, but it takes up a lot of her time. Especially party and playoff jacket planning.

Quinn looks over at her and her brain immediately goes blank. He's still surrounded by his teammates, but he's looking at her like that. It should be illegal to look like that.

She excuses herself from the group of wives and girlfriends to approach her boyfriend. She tries not to feel tiny among a group of hockey players, but she is.

"Cap," she teases with a smile. "I'm kinda hungry so can we go grab something to eat?" Quinn's cheeks turn bright red at the use of his new nickname. His teammates snicker around him at his reaction.

All he can do is nod in response to her and grab her hand. He guides her away without a single word, but his cheeks remain tomato red.

She's rendered him speechless. All by calling him "Cap." Maybe she'll have to start doing that more often if this is how he reacts.

They grab a plate of food and head to their table. No one else is sitting at the table but she knows that it's her, Quinn, JT, JT's wife, Brock, Thatcher, and Lexie at the table. Their tablemates are still mingling amongst the players and coaches in the room while they sit and eat.

Quinn leans over to her and says softly in her ear, "I'm going to need you to not call me 'Cap' again while we're here."

"Oh," she breathes out. "So your teammates can call you Cap, but I can't?"

He presses his lips in a line and meets her eyes. "It doesn't sound sexy coming out of their mouths like it does yours," he mumbles. "So, please don't call me Cap or Captain while we're here or you'll find yourself on your knees in the bathroom helping me with my little problem."

A small smirk forms on her lips as she takes a bite of pasta. "It's not a 'little' problem, Quinn," she tells him. "It's a pretty big problem."

Quinn groans and rubs his hands over his face. "You're killing me," he groans. "Oh my God."

She giggles and takes another bite of pasta like the conversation isn't ruining the panties she has on under the dress. Quinn follows suit and begins to eat his plate of food.

Their tablemates join them a few minutes later with their own plates. She converses with Lexie and Natalie Miller while their husbands talk with Quinn and Brock. She laughs with them, but the entire time, she thinks about the little conversation she and Quinn had about calling him Cap or Captain.

She's absolutely trying it when they get home to see what kind of reaction she gets out of him when he isn't surrounded by his friends.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

They leave the event once Quinn gives a little speech to hype up his teammates. Tocchet also gives a speech once Quinn was done, but he needed to stay until he was done talking. He orders an Uber back to their Vancouver apartment before Tocchet is even done his speech so they can leave as soon as he's done.

The Canucks applaud their head coach for his speech and they make a break for the door before anyone can stop them. Quinn has her hand in his as they make their way outside. Their Uber is waiting for them when they exit the building.

Quinn slides in first and she follows him. One of her hands rests on his knee and she leans over to say, "You looked good while you were giving your little speech." She pauses for a beat. "Captain Quinn."

His head snaps in her direction. "What did I tell you-"

"Just wanted to see something," she giggles as she glances down at the growing bulge in his already tight pants. "And I see what I wanted to see." Her voice drops a couple of octaves so only he can hear. "Do you like when I call you Captain, Quinn?"

He gnaws on his bottom lip. "You're playing a very dangerous game right now," he warns her. "I'm not trying to ruin these pants."

She leans into him and says against his ear, "Then maybe you shouldn't like to be called 'captain' by your girlfriend." Her lips touch the swell of his ear as she talks. Quinn shivers under her lips before she pulls back to meet his eyes. She finds his usually bright eyes dark with lust.

She's not sure she's going to make it into the apartment if she keeps playing this game with him.

"You are ..." Quinn trails off with a smile and a shake of his head. She grins while he tries to find the words to say. "Something else." His fingers trace the slit in her dress, leaving goosebumps behind where he touches her skin.

The Uber comes to a stop two minutes later. She doesn't risk saying another word until they're in the building. The elevator is probably not the best place to say anything either.

Still, it doesn't stop her from poking the bear though.

"Captain Quinn Hughes," she pretends to think out loud. "Even after a year, it still roles off the tongue. Don't you think, Cap?"

"Oh my fucking God," Quinn groans as he turns to face his girlfriend.

Before she can react, Quinn cups her cheeks and pulls her into a hot kiss. He steps so her back is pressed against the wall of the elevator. She grips his jacket as he presses his chest completely against hers. Quinn shoves a thigh between her legs, moving the dress to the side so his thigh presses against her already damp core.

This is a side of Quinn she's pretty sure she hasn't seen in their two and a half years together. He's very particular about his touches and his movements. Slightly rougher with them as well. She might like this side of Quinn.

The elevator dings once it arrives at their floor. Quinn pulls back and grabs her hand as the doors slide open. "Let's go, pretty girl," he says to her, voice soft. "You need to help me with my not-so-little problem before it ruins these pants."

She giggles as Quinn leads her out of the elevator and down the hall to their apartment. It's a moment before Quinn gets the door open but once he does, he pulls her inside and pins her against the door to shut it.

Quinn holds her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. "I hope this dress didn't cost a lot," he says. "Because it might end up torn and on the floor tonight.”

“Quinn Hughes, you better not rip this dress because if you do, you’re buying me a new one,” she warns him. “I mean it too. You better not.”

He grins and hooks his fingers around the spaghetti straps that sits on her shoulders. “I guess I’ll be nice,” he sighs as he pulls the strap off her shoulders. Quinn's eyes fall to the fabric that he pulls down to expose her breasts.

There's about one second between when the fabric pools around her waist and when Quinn crashes his lips to hers in a heated kiss. Their lips mold against each other and his hands cup her breasts. She groans into the kiss and he takes full advantage to explore her mouth with his tongue.

She pulls his suit jacket off his body and it falls to the floor with a light thud. She pushes him toward their bedroom without breaking the kiss.

In the very short trip from their front door to their bedroom, she loses her heels and dress in the hallway while Quinn's tie ends up on the living room floor and his button up gets unbuttoned and untucked as they enter their bedroom. She jumps and wraps her legs around his waist. He kicks the door shut and walks toward their bed.

"What do you want me to do, Cap?" she questions between kisses.

"You know, every time one of my teammates calls me Cap, I'm going to think of you and it's going to end in endless teasing for me," Quinn points out as he sits on the mattress. He pulls back to look at her. "If my teammates mess with me because I get hard after one of them refers to me as Cap, it won't end well for you since it'll be your fault."

She feigns being hurt. "Ouch, Quinn," she says. "I guess I'll never call you Cap ever again."

"I didn't say that," Quinn very quickly replies. "Just letting you know what will happen."

“I’m so scared,” she teases.

“Shut up and get on your knees, pretty girl.”

His stern voice when he says that shoots straight down to her core. She bites her bottom lip as she slides off of Quinn’s lap and to her knees on the carpeted floor below her.

Her fingers work at unbuttoning his dress pants. She pulls them down along with his boxers. His hard dick stands up against his stomach when it’s free from the confines of his underwear. She takes him in her hand and looks up at him. She gnaws on her lip before she says, “Whatever you say, Cap.”

Quinn groans at the same time she wraps her lips around the fiery red tip. She tastes some precome that has leaked as she takes more of his dick in her mouth. His fingers curl in her wavy locks as she hollows her cheeks and sucks. She looks up at him as he throws his head back in pleasure.

"Fuck," Quinn breathes out. The reaction she gets out of him causes her to speed up her actions. Her hands are splayed over his thighs so she has something to hold on to. Not to mention that she just loves his thighs.

She manages to take all of him in her mouth without choking, and Quinn loves every second of it. He gnaws on his bottom lip and soft sounds rise from his throat. It's music to her ears as she takers him completely in her mouth and hums around him.

Quinn can't seem to get enough.

When her knees start screaming at her from being on the carpet for too long, she ignores it. What Quinn wants, Quinn gets. She's done this so many times that the pain doesn't get to her like it used to, but sometimes it .

She hollows out her cheeks and Quinn hums before he pulls her off his dick by her hair. She hums and looks up at her. His thumbs brush her probably swollen lips and she kisses the pads of his thumbs.

"Was that okay?" she questions like she always does after she sucks him off. Quinn raises his eyebrows at her and she grins. "Cap."

He nods and leans down to kiss her. His kiss is softer this time as he helps her back up so she's straddling his thighs. She runs her fingers through his styled hair and Quinn falls so he's lying on his back. His dick pokes her thigh and she wiggles her hips to tease him.

"These need to come off, pretty girl," he mumbles against her lips at the same time he taps the waistband of her panties. "I'm sure they're ruined at this point anyway."

She stands up to push the ruined fabric off her body. Quinn moves back so his head rests on the pillows. She presses her lips together in a line as she crawls back onto the mattress. She straddles his waist and leans over to press a long, deep kiss to his lips. Quinn hums and cups her jaw with his hands so she can't go anywhere.

Without breaking the kiss, she lifts her hips and rests the tip of his dick at her entrance. He slips right in because of how wet she is. A grin forms on her lips as she says, "Wanna ride you, Cap. Please."

"You don't need my permission, pretty girl," Quinn replies between hot kisses.

She hums as she lowers herself onto him. The familiar and welcomed stretch greets her. Quinn's hands land on her waist so she doesn't lose her balance. He bottoms out in her and she allows herself a few seconds to adjust before moving her hips.

The room is quickly filled with her soft moans as she rolls her hips. He helps her keep a steady pace that works for both of them. The kiss breaks but she doesn't go very far. Her forehead rests on his and her lips ghost his every time she moves.

Despite how they got here, she loves when she falls into bed with her boyfriend. No matter the reason, Quinn always focuses on both their pleasure. He makes sure that both of them feel good for however long they go.

Adding a little spice in the bedroom, like this captain thing that Quinn has going on right now, is one of her favorite things too. She's never against trying new things. She's not against this captain thing that he has going on.

Quinn starts moving his hips to match her pace. She groans and pushes herself up so she's sitting on his waist. She keeps her pace though. Her head is thrown back in pleasure and Quinn's hands roam her body.

"Fuck, baby," he breathes out. "You look so good riding my dick, pretty girl."

He moves one of his hands until he's rubbing her clit. She cries out his name and rests her hands on his torso. "Quinn," she gasps. "Oh my God." He stops. "Cap. Captain. Captain Quinn. Don't stop. Please." Those words pass her lips before her brain processes what she wants to say, but her end goal remained the same. Quinn continues rubbing her clit and she hums.

Her movements get frantic and inconsistent as she gets closer to her orgasm. Quinn wraps his arms around her waist and rolls them over so her head is on the pillow. He throws her legs over his shoulders and begins moving his hips.

The new angle has her legs shaking because his dick hits her favorite spot. She grabs his arms and cries out his name. "Oh my- fuck," she gasps. "Quinn, Quinn Quinn. Oh my God." He doesn't stop this time, but he slows down. "Cap, I'm so close. Please."

"Come for me, pretty girl," Quinn pants. "Want you to make a mess on my dick."

It's not very long after that when she comes. Her entire body clenches and she cries out Quinn's name so loud that their neighbors absolutely heard her. Her vision whitens and she's in cloud 9 from how hard she comes.

She's so out of it that she doesn't realize that Quinn pulls out and comes on her thighs. She has no idea that he cleans her up, only that he touches her sensitive core with a wet cloth. Her body melts into the mattress as she recovers.

When she comes to, Quinn is crawling back into bed. She musters up enough strength to turn her head and look at him.

"You okay?" he asks with a smile on his swollen lips. "Lost you for a moment."

She nods and rolls so she's curled up next to Quinn. "You really like when I call you Cap," she teases him. His cheeks turn red. "It's fine, Quinn. You don't need to get all flustered about it. If it's your thing, then it's my thing too. I wouldn't mind doing that again. It showed me a whole new side of you that I think I like."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Then we might have to do that again," Quinn tells her. "But please. For the love of everything, do not call me Cap or Captain around the team. It's going to take me a second to get over tonight, or get used to those words leaving your mouth."

She giggles and throws her leg over his waist so she's laying on his chest. "You say the word and I'll start using your nickname," she tells him. "Cap."

Quinn rolls his eyes, but she knows he loves it.

༺──────────────༻

MAIN MASTERLIST

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[luveline]

also didn’t realise that amanda was their little baby but here’s an idea if ur up for it. amanda inherits like spencer’s smartness i guess and so when she starts spewing facts about the random-est stuff spencer’s overjoyed and then bombshells just staring at them with adoration in her eyes?? idk something really fluffy

“Shoes?” Amanda asks. 

“Yeah, babe.” 

“No thanks.” 

You hold Amanda’s socked feet in your hands. “You need shoes to keep your feet warm.” 

“I’ll have socks.” 

You look past her tiny face to her father for some assistance. Spencer scratches his neck, looking absolutely exhausted, though he’s dressed sharply. You’d spent a few minutes finger curling his hair this morning before it dried, and he’s brushed them out gently, giving him a windblown look. You pretend to take a photo of him. He rolls his eyes. 

“Amy,” he says lovingly, baby-voice in play as he leans over the back of the couch, “you know why you have to wear shoes?” 

“Why?” 

“Because growing up, your feet are very small, and very fragile. They need time to grow in proper structures, and they can’t do that if you don’t wear shoes when you’re walking a lot.” He gives her shoulder a rub. “Don’t you wanna match me and mommy?” 

“You wear shoes… different. Mom has heels,” she insists. 

“What if I wear flats?” you ask, eager to leave the house before afternoon. 

She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest with a Spencer style pout. 

Spencer sits down next to her with a sigh. You’re both aware of how smart she is for her age, and while it can be interesting, it’s also made some stuff so, so hard. Like explaining shoes. “I’m not want to wear them. It’s good for my skin to breathe.” All her r’s sound soft, like w’s.

You rub your eyes. Spencer sucks in an excited breath. “Yes! Skin can’t really breathe, but it’s good to have it uncovered sometimes to help your circulation and your pores.” 

“‘Xactly,” Amy says. 

“And, you know, shoes that don’t fit right force your feet into narrow positions, which can cause a whole bunch of problems.” 

“No shoes,” Amy says. 

“But…” Spencer backtracks, thumbing under her eyelashes gently. “If you don’t wear your shoes, we can’t go out to the store for groceries and we can’t go to the bakery on the way home. Which means you won’t get your sugar donuts, mommy won’t get her slice of cake, and that’s gonna make me so sad.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I love when your mom is happy. It makes me happy when she’s happy. She doesn’t look very happy now, does she?” 

In all honesty, you’re much too pretty to be sitting on the floor, tights to the carpeting and your cute black dress bunching up your thighs. You refuse to close yourself into the ‘mom’ box some may expect of you, dressing as you had before you became a mom, but you’ve allowed Amanda the opportunity to choose your necklace; a gold pendant ring with green and pink sapphires. It’s gorgeous, colourful, and doesn’t even slightly go with your outfit. Spencer reaches for it now, tugging it straight carefully against your neck. 

You frown deeply, pulling your widest, softest doe eyes. “Please, lovely girl, put your shoes on. Or I’m gonna have to be strict, and I hate being strict.” 

“Don’t fw-own, mommy,” she says, listing into Spencer’s side, “you’ll get wrinkles. Worse wrinkles, ‘cos your muscles remember.” 

And again, all her r’s are w’s, her pronunciation lispy and sweet despite her amazing expertise. Spencer laughs and takes her face into two hands, kissing “Wow, smarty pants,” into her crown. “You’re so smart! I can’t believe it!” 

You feel your annoyance softening. Fine, she’s a smarty pants, and you secretly love it so so much. You’ll just have to carry her to the car. Or her genius dad can carry her. Actually, that could be great, Spencer’s never looked so handsome as he does carrying around your little baby, especially now he’s started working out every now and then. 

“Better role your sleeves up, Spence,” you say, standing up off of your knees. “I’m keeping my heels on. Daddy’s gonna carry you, and you’re gonna get wonky feet.” 

“That’s fine,” Spencer says to her in a whisper, “I’ll carry you forever if you want me to, even if you do get all wonky, bubby.”  

Amy preens as she wraps her arms around him and he picks her up. He takes her shoes from your hand without her seeing. 

“Isn’t she amazing?” he mouths, and he means it, his eyes wide with it. 

“She’s gonna protest socks, next, Spencer Reid, and then what are you gonna do?” you ask. You aren’t half as concerned as you’re pretending to be. Amy’s a baby. She’ll learn how important shoes are soon enough. 

“I’m gonna hold her in my coat, like this,” he says, pulling his coat over her legs. 

“Like that,” you say to yourself, grinning. “Okay, you two do what you want. Can we go now? We really need to get some groceries.” 

[whore-ibly-hot]

"A Servant and His King."

Yandere!Fae-King x Fae!servant x. Fem! Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, coercion, fae related hijinks, basically monster fucking, oral (fem receiving), loss of virginity, clit play, p-in-v sex, power dynamics.

(A/N): Part two to a non-smutnfic about Puck, based off of puck from 'Midsummer Nights Dream'. Can be read with or standalone.

Part one (not required to understand)

A brief gust of wind and leaves rattles the shutters of your small cottages window, not sounding out of place when mixed with the usual sounds of the forest. However, the gust turns softer as it gently brushes against the shutters, causing them to open slowly with a creak.

A pair of feet land nimbly upon the wooden dresser across the room from your bed, a shadowy figure squatting down with a grin. The figure hops down, making its way to your bed, where you sleeping form lies blissfully unaware of the intruder.

Groaning, you are soon roused from your slumber by a light pressure on your wrist, and your eyes flutter open. You gasp, seeing the being before you and trying to pull away. "

"W-who are you! Stay awa-" a finger is pressed softly to your lips, the figures face coming into view as the lean forward. Forest green eyes and a set of familiar pearly whites greet you.

"Shh! No need to fear, only Puck is here." He coos, kissing your wrist once more, pressing the soft flesh to his lips. "Sorry to frighten you, little mortal. I would never mean to upset you, but I couldn't very waltz in through the entrance to your humble abode, especially given your mother's feelings about my kind." He lays his lithe body across yours, head on your chest as he looks at you with glee.

"Why are you here, Puck? It's late, I must rest." You say, though you don't resist the fae boys touching. "Sleep is important for humans."

He scoffs. "I know, but I have something more important than your human need for sleep. My king, Oberon, leader of the seelie court wishes to meet you." He pulls you up by your shoulders, a hand fixing your nightgown which begins to slip from your shoulder.

"T-the king?" You're just a human woman, a peasant. You've never even met a human noble, much less a faery king. "Why? Puck, I'm not, I can't! Now? I'm not dressed properly, I'm a human, I-"

Once again, a finger is placed against your lips. Invading your space as per usual, Pucks forehead is pressed against your forehead, nose to nose. "Shush, little mortal. Please, the king loves me. I am his jester-servant, his beloved Puck! We've shared many a-" he chuckles. "Amourous night together. He knows if your good enough for me, then your good enough to meet him. Don't discredit yourself, you are so much more than some mortal maid I take in the woods for a night of passion." He makes her sit up, and tries to slip her out of the bed. "He'll love you, my sweet. It's only proper I introduce my new beloved friend to my closest companion, ruler, and my king." You allow him to pull you out of your bed, and into his lanky form.

"Mmph, Puck. I can walk." You groan, trying to wriggle from his grasp. He tsks with his tongue, and shakes his head.

"No, no, no. Don't whine, don't go away. Be good. It's a long stroll all the way to the spring we're going to, just relax." He cackles. "You humans are so indecisive. Just a moment ago you were whining, 'Puck, no. It's too late, I'm a human, I need my sleep.', now you won't let me carry your frail, tired self to see the king. Make up your mind."

You roll your eyes, but suppose he has a point, and allow yourself to melt into his warm embrace, shoulders flush against his pecs.

As he slips back through the window and dances through the glen, weaving through trees and brush like a gust of cool night air, he soon arrives upon a clearing. Smooth rock reflect moonlight, as the water resting atop them comes from the babbling freshwater spring that rests at the edge of the rocks. A figure, imposing and much more muscular than Puck's is sat on one of the rocks, admiring the water.

Puck gently sets you down with nimble hands, kissing your ear lightly. This causes you to squeak and push him off.

"Stop it, Puck! I-im about to meet a king and your acting like we're lovers! Like your an enamored schoolboy!" You exclaim, and his hands only wrap around your waist from behind, playing with the cloth there.

"And here I thought we were lovers..." He feigns a sad face and a pout, before jolting forward and taking you with him by the waist. "My king!" He yells.

The imposing figure looks over, causing you to freeze, mind not really in synch with body as Puck drags you forward. The king is truly a thing of beauty, rugged and piercing as if he were carved, not from stone, but from the wood that made up the forest which he called his domain. He wears a fur pelt around his waist, covering his only upper thigh and not leaving much to the imagination. His is decidedly hairy, and though beautiful is as rugged as a human man of the woods is expected to be. He has dark curls of hair not unsimilar to Puck's, but not as long. His eyes are a deep brown.

"Ah, Puck, my fair servant friend. I was almost afraid you had planned to trick me, having not shown yet." The king muses, legs spread casually and a hand resting against his chin.

Puck gasps, hand to his chest as if hurt. "Never, my liege. Well, at least not to you." Puck coos, sitting on the rock and curling up to the man's calve. The king runs his hands through the curls of the fae man, and you are taken aback by the sensuality of their interaction.

The king looks up. "And you, little mortal, must be my Pucks new favorite thing, hmm?" He asks, head tilted. You nod nervously as the man waves you closer. You bow, and he grins. "Good, good. I assume she knows who I am then? I am King Oberon, of this enchanted woods and over all of the seelie court. Though, my servant here told me you knew little to nothing of our people when asked you about us, so I doubt you'd know what the seelie court is."

You shake your head. "No, sir. All I know-" you glance at Puck, who is practically purring at his kings touch. "All I know is what Puck has told me. That you are powerful, and to be respected."

Oberon grins at this. "That is all you need know. Come here, allow a king to gaze upon you." His hands begin to wander, cupping your face. His large fingers prod your plump lips, your cheeks, and tilts your chin downwards to look at him from where he is sat. Then, the hand is on your shoulder, playing with the straps of your upper garment, then at your chest. This sudden touch in such an intimate place causes you to jolt back. Oberon raises a brow.

"I'm sorry, sir. That is, that is just a very intimate place for humans. It's for sensual matters, when between two adults." You try to explain. Puck sighs, leaning his head on Oberons knee while the king chuckles.

"I am aware. It is intimate and sensual for fae too. That is why you were being touched there." He says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Now, you are only more confused.

"Well, intimacy of those matters between humans happens between a-a married couple, and even then, it should not be openly discussed. A woman like myself couldn't, shouldn't ever bee with a stranger like that, not even a suitor before marriage!"

"I have heard humans are... less indulgent in the passions of life than fae. All those awful, boring rules. And yet you kill your leaders and revolt because your miserable? Perhaps. Eing unable to express those urges is why." He laughs, and Puck joins in. He sense your confusion and continues. "Fae do not believing in brief enjoyment and indulgence. We live life to the fullest. Our liquor is stronger yet we drink more, our food is richer, yet we all eat like kings. And most of all, we indulge in the passions of the flesh with each other more than your little mind could take. I think if you had the opportunity, you'd see it was the best way to live." He muses.

To your suprise, he suddenly moves Puck up from his calve to his lap, holding the thin man by the waist as Puck grins wickedly. "You see, me and my servant here are close, emotionally and physically. We have enjoyed many a night of passion, without the watchful eye of my queen, of course." There is some bitterness in Oberon's tone at the mention of his queen.

"You... you indulge in passion with those, of the same gender as you, o-often?" You ask. It is not wrong, you are just so suprised and curious. You are not even supposed to think about a man pleasing a woman, let alone a man and another man. It is such a foreign idea.

"Mhmm. Being a king is hard for his majesty, and Puck... I, am happy to help him with his desires. My king cares for me, and I care for him." Puck says, before gasping and cutting off. You blush, seeing Oberons hand has slipped below Pucks leafy loincloth, hand stroking Puck manhood. He focuses only on the tip for now.

"I am suprised seeing as you are so shocked by how touchy and sensual fae are, seeing as you bedded my dear servant." Oberon says, and you immediately shake your head.

"No! I've never, me and Puck did nothing together. We drank a little, but he took me home." You exclaim, and look st Ouck for answers. He's too busy letting out soft whimpers and moans as Oberon moves his hand the full length of Pucks cock, paying attention to his bulbous tip.

"Is this true, Puck? I find it hard to believe, my servant can't keep his hands to himself. I suppose this makes you seem even more special to me, that my Puck would wish to see you again so desperately, and rave about you to me even if he had not bedded you yet. That begs the question though..." He leans in to Puck's ear. "Why did you lie to your king?"

Puck groans, brows furrowing. "M' sorry, your majesty! I knew you were so busy, and if I told you I had found a mortal capable of giving such incredible pleasure, you'd be more likely to come and see what a treasure I had found." He stammers. The king shakes his head, slowing his movements on Puck's cock.

"You know better than to lie to a king with a temper, Puck."

Puck cries out, bucking his hips and trying to chase that friction against his kings rough hands. "N-no sir! Trust me, I know if she'd just indulge, the mortal would be wonderful! She... she could be our mortal, not just mine! Please sir, I'll be good, she'll be good, don't stop." He begs.

Oberon sighs, still frowning in Pucks direction but intrigued nonetheless. "Alright, mortal girl. I yell you, if you would only let go, indulge just a bit in the pleasures of the fae, you would live a better life overall. And, should you please a king of the woods, perhaps your... what is it your mother does? Herbs? Perhaps they would see a better yield. An enchantment perhaps?" He offers.

You gulp, body hot with both arousal at the sight before you and anxiety. "I couldn't. What would the people in town think, I-I would be outcast!"

"Who would know? Even if someone were to find out, no one would believe a quiet gardeners daughter slept with a wicked spirit." The king teases, tongue poking out from between his lips slightly. He pulls you to him, and you offer no resistance. "For an untouched maiden, I assure you there is no one better to introduce you to a world of pleasure than the king, and his most loyal servant."

As he says this, the moaning Puck latches his lips onto your neck, continuing to moan as he sucks the soft flesh. You gasp.

"Oh, oh, gods." You squeak, the sensitive skin of your nape never having been touched, much less kissed in such a way.

"No gods, here, mortal. No angels or demons, only fae. Only the spirits of nature." He leans into your ear, kissing the shell. "Only your king."

Soon, a rough hand gets your skirt pooled around your knees, kneading the fat of your thigh and preparing to spread your legs and allow the fae king and his srmervant a view of the untouched treasure that lies there. You shiver as the cold air brushes across your stomach, you've never felt so exposed.

"See, highness? I told you, she's the perfect, pretty little mortal. Tease her, please? For me? I want to see her face as she experiences pleasure for the first time." Puck begs.

Oberon raises a brow and the request. "Such demands from a liar who has already been granted mercy, and is still being pleasure bu the hands of a king." He pulls his hand from Ouck's cock, causing tears to well in the edged faes eyes, having been denied his release.

"Majesty-"

"Enough. I will allow you to tease and prep the maiden, so she may except you king. Before you say anything, be grateful I don't only allow you to watch, or send you home." Puck whines, but grins a little inside. He knows the king enjoys his presence to much to remove him from this sensual scene.

Oberons large hands keep your shoulders flat against the warm stones of the spring, while Puck, still hard beneath his tented loincloth, crawls unceremoniously up between your thighs.

"What are you doing, Puck?" You whisper out softly, looking into his dazzling green eyes. He smiles warmly, pressing his cheek to one of your thighs.

"I assure you, maiden, my wicked tongue is not only good for japes and jabs." He coos. You are still confused at what he could mean, until the two thin fingers parting your folds are replaced with a hot, wet muscle. Puck licks a stripe teasingly up your center, savoring the flavour but eyes never leaving your face.

Oberon smiles down as he watches your face contort and wrinkle at the new sensation.

"Puck, y-your majesty, what is- oh, what is he doing?" You ask, trying to form a coherent sentence at the odd feeling of pressure and friction against both your clit and your entrance as Puck explores your folds.

"It's called cunnilingus, maiden. Fae have many ways to pleasure each other, but many enjoys the feel of one's mouth on their most intimate areas." He chuckles as he watches Puck tasting you curiously. "Sometimes, I find filling his mouth is the only way to quiet him." Puck giggles, and the vibrations make your legs quake.

Soon, the muscle invades your entrance, as Puck is now groaning almost as much as you. It's a gentle stretch, but both Ouck and Oberon know it will be necessary for what the king is to do later. Your aroused and needy clit is not forgotten by the fae pleasuring you, as a free hand comes to tweak it gently. The feeling is overwhelming, and soon, that knot inside you snaps, and you feel a high you've never known. It feels as though currents, waves run through your body as your maidenhood spasms around Pucks tongue.

He removes it, but continues to lap at your spent clit, tasting the juices of your climax. Oberon smiles.

"Was he good, maiden? Did you first touch by a man satisfy?" He asks. You can only weakly nod. "Ah, answer, maiden. Your being addressed by a royal."

"It was... it was very good, m-majesty." You gasp out. You look away at the sheer lewdness of the sight and Oberon crashes his lips to Pucks so that he may taste you on his servants lips.

"She was a divine nectar, my liege." Puck groans, pulling away from the kiss and now trading spots with his king. Now Puck lays by your shoulders, playing with your locks and kissing your neck and jawline while Oberon moves into place.

His chisled body places itself atop you, his sheer size dwarfing you and removing the moonlight from your body, casting a large shadow. You gulp.

"I... I've never done-" he chuckles, cutting you off.

"I'm aware, mortal. All that talk of purity led me to that conclusion. But, you won't be that innocent for long. I will be gentle, but it will hurt at first when you accept me into your sweet cunt. It's all part of the process."

You tense a little at the feeling of something hard, much more rigid than Pucks limp tongue, prodding at your entrance and folds.

"M' scared." You admit. This seems to soften the sensual yet cold king, and he sighs. Even Puck gives him a sad, wide eyes look. He leans down.

"Don't worry, mortal. I will be as gentle as any man has been with a woman. My Puck was never one to be nervous, but I have had lovers in the past who were. I will take care of you." He says.

Puck holds your hand and nuzzles his cheek to yours to provide a semblance of comfort. "It's true. The king is a fair and gentle lover when he wants to be. Don't worry, my friend." He assures.

Oberon strokes your thighs to relax soon, and soon the tip enters your weeping slit. You whine, the intrusion burns a little, especially as he adds a few inches every so often. But, he is slow, and talks you through it.

"Shh, it's alright. Your taking me so well, especially since I am endowed with more than some. Such a good mortal girl, it will feel good once you've stretched to accommodate a fae's cock." He coos.

As he begins to gently thrust, the slightly pain gives way to a burning pleasure. You whimper, his thrusts rocking your ads back against the stone of the spring. His large, curved tip is hitting the right spots, cervix getting pounded by the large man of the forest.

"O-oh, shit! Oberon, please- please, m-more! I need all, all of you in me!" You cry, and he chuckles.

"That's your womb speaking. This is your first time, you couldn't possibly accommodate all of me. But I will give you what I think, ugh, what I think you can take." He thursts become rhythmic, rolling in and out of your stretched tunnel, as Puck holds you steady and plays gently with your chest.

Oberon humps against you a few more times, moaning at Pucks encouragement. "She is so close, sire. I can tell, she's all tense and red, come on! Give it to her, let her take you. Please." It's clear Puck is still needy from not having gotten his release earlier. Still, he seems satisfied watching the king fuck his newest treasure.

"Mortal, mortal. You squeeze like a vice, such a warm, needy cunt. You needed this, to feel such pleasure, didn't you? Needed a cock to fill this cunt?" He moans. "It was fate, wasn't it, Puck? Finding this maiden, all alone. It was fate for you to be brought to us." Puck nods as his master continues.

"Your majesty, I'm gonna- its happening again." You cry, and his pace doesn't slow.

"I know, I know. I'm, fuck-" one last thrust sends the king over the edge. He groans, feeling your tunnel convulse around him as his thick white cum fills you. Puck plants quick, overwhelming kisses across your face as you climax, secretly wondering what you would look like if you bore the king's child.

Soon, Oberon pulls out, and you lay there, trembling and on the verge of sleep. Puck leans down and plants a final kiss upon your lips. He smiles.

"Sleep, little mortal. It's okay, you are safe with me and my king. I'll return you to your bed, pretty one." He strokes your hair softly, until your tired eyes close and stay closes. He sighs, and looks at the king. It's clear he could go for a fee more rounds.

"Majesty, our poor mortal needed this so badly, her body was on fire for it. We can't... we can't well let her go back to her little cottage, all alone in the dangerous wood with no one to please her. She's trusting, and she broke all the rules of interacting with fae so quickly, what if a worse one came along and-"

"Puck!" Oberon exclaims, making the imp jolt and go silent. Oberon sighs. "I am not a fool. I know how much this unique mortal has captivated the two of us. You need not convince me to take her back to my palace. As fair as Titania will be concerned, she is a plaything for you, correct? I will not have her cursing this treasure." Oberons muscular arms cradle your slumbering form.

"Majesty, I know of your endurance. Perhaps when we get back to the palace, while our maiden rests, I may please you." Puck asks, eyes wide and innocent.

Oberon scoffs. "All this acting because I didn't allow you to finish, Puck?" Oberon says, seeing through Pucks facade of goodwill and selflessness. Puck pouts.

"Isn't it tempting, though?"

"Perhaps."

[k3n-dyll]

Taking Turns [Ellie W. + Abby A.]

||Men, minors, and ageless DNI

CW: Overstim, dom!Ellabs, sub!reader, fingering(r!receiving), cunnilingus(r!receiving) edging,  strap usage(r!receiving), dacryphillia(?), reader has hair, POC friendly cus duh, AFAB reader,strap on referred to as a cock, porn with no plot, no y/n usage

Word Count: 1,032 Masterlist. Divider Creds

A/N: I haven't written in so long so please give me some grace if this is ass

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷“Watch her fuck you, baby…there you go ” Ellie coos, a gentle hand playing with your hair, her soft lips occasionally pressing little kisses to the top of your head as you rest against her. She’s relaxed, slouched up against the headboard as she holds you to her stomach, free hand gently tugging at your hardened nipple, pinching the sensitive bud between her fingers. 

Your mind is completely blank by now, jaw slack, tears rolling down your cheeks as Abby’s thick fingers pump mercilessly in and out of you. Her face is buried snug between your legs, her sharp blue eyes staring up at you, watching the way your face contorts in pleasure as she laps at your overly sensitive clit. 

The contrast is overwhelming. 

Ellie mumbling sweet praises in your ear that you can barely process as she holds you, her grip firm yet gentle as she practically forces you to watch as the freckled blonde ravages you with her mouth and fingers. You can’t quite remember how many minutes it’s been since this started, but it feels like it's been hours, the two women having switched places three- no four times by now. 

“Look at you, already fuckin’ crying and we haven’t even started with you yet” Ellie remarks, her long fingers untangling from your hair to wipe at your tear-stained cheeks. It’s not like you can help it at this point. Ever since the last switch, Abby has been deliberate in the way she handles your body, getting you right up to the edge of your orgasm over and over again before pulling away, leaving you breathless and desperate, clenching around the phantom of her fingers. Like right now. Abby feels you begin to pulse around her digits, your whimpers and cries of pleasure becoming louder by the second, and just like that her pace slows to a stop.

"A-Abs, please-" You start as Abby pulls away from your cunt completely, a string of her saliva and your juices breaking between her lips and your glistening folds as she sits up.

"Don't you want this baby?" Abby asks, the "this" in question being the ribbed, purple silicone strap resting on her hips. As she speaks, she positions her body between your legs, wrapping her large hand around the toy and gently tapping it against your swollen clit, making you twitch. You feel like you could cum from that alone. You nod your head vigorously in response to Abby's question, and the blonde just fucking laughs.

"Use your words, pretty girl." she says, her voice firm. While Abby and Ellie don't often agree on a lot of things, one thing they can agree on is the fact that your voice sounds like heaven. Especially when you're like this. It feels good to know that, but at the same time, it's difficult not to become irritated when they're constantly expecting you to speak to them clearly through ragged breaths and fucked out whines.

You can't help but let out an impatient, drawn-out groan at Abby's demand but you try your best anyways, begging for her to "just fuck you already" through labored breathing. Normally that wouldn't work, Abby would prefer to hear you ask nicely but she can practically feel your desperation, and she's just as needy so she lets it slide this once. Your breath catches in your throat when Abby's movements transition from gently rubbing the mushroom-like tip of her cock against your drooling pussy to pushing it inside. Ellie's voice overlaps over the high-pitched whine that escapes your throat at the feeling.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay. You can take it" Ellie murmurs, her hands still gently groping and tugging at your tits, her green eyes staring intently at the way Abby is sliding into you.

Abby pushes the silicone deep, all the way to its base before letting out a low groan as if she could actually feel your warm walls surrounding it. Her thrusts are gentle at first, but it doesn't last long before the sound of skin on skin begins filling the room, along with your breathless cries. The blonde is ruthless, but she takes her time, pulling her cock almost all the way out of you before slamming it back in at full force. Her strong hands grip onto your thighs so hard that her fingernails dig into your skin, soft grunts and moans forcing their way out of her each time the base of the strap bumps against her throbbing bundle of nerves.

"A-Abby I'm gonna- fuck" Your legs are shaking uncontrollably, the mere thought of her stopping right now almost makes you let out a sob, but she doesn't. Abby is way too focused on how fucking good you look and sound right now to even think about teasing you anymore, not to mention her own inner thighs becoming moist with her wetness with each thrust, close to cumming herself.

"I know, I know baby- Jesus Christ" Abby mutters between gritted teeth, her eyebrows knitted together as her thrusts become more erratic. "Cum for me, c'mon."

If you didn't know any better, you would think the muscular blonde had some kind of remote control to your body because you cum almost immediately after she says it, your body convulsing as your orgasm rips through you, the feeling almost too much after being denied it so many times. Abby reaches her climax quickly after, her hips involuntarily snapping forward a few more times as her body twitches from the pleasure before she leans over you to catch her breath.

When she comes down from her high, Abby pushes off of you, the silicone sliding out slowly and sending a shiver through your body. Your legs go limp against the bed when she moves, a thin layer of sweat covering your body, eyes threatening to close. Before you get the chance though, you feel a hand tapping against your cheek. It's Ellie. Looking down at you with a shit-eating grin on her face.

"We didn't say you were finished, doll" she says, gently moving you off of her so that she can stand, switching places with Abby. Again.

"I still haven't had my turn, yet"

A/N pt. 2: Thanks for reading! I barely proofread this so I'm sorry if it reads a little odd. Constructive feedback is appreciated!

[theostrophywife]

baby, won't you be my girl?

pairing: theodore nott x reader. song inspiration: only girl by stephen sanchez. author’s note: theodore nott, the man that you are. please enjoy my favorite flirty yummy slytherin boy 🐍 part two: stop the world i wanna get off with you.

Theodore Nott was not the jealous type. 

Jealousy required emotions, which Theo found so terribly unrefined. He was a Slytherin, for Salazar’s sake. Not some hotheaded Gryffindor incapable of keeping his anger in check. But as he glared daggers at the back of some pathetic little beater who was currently flirting with you across the common room, Theo couldn’t help but feel downright murderous. 

The worst part was that he could’ve prevented all of this. If he had just manned the fuck up, Theo would’ve been the one pressed close against you, whispering his signature suggestive comments in your ear and making you smile. 

But Theo—absolute tosser that he was—didn’t realize his blunder until it was too late. 

Earlier that week, the two of you had been studying in his room. Well, you were studying. Theo, on the other hand, was smoking enough pot to sedate a hippogriff. He inhaled deeply, watching with a slight smirk on his face as you frowned into your Charms textbook. You were laying on your stomach at the edge of his bed with notes strewn all around you. The combination of your slightly unbuttoned white blouse, dangerously short black pleated skirt, and green and silver high knee socks affected him more than the drugs he was currently inhaling. 

There was something incredibly sexy about a beautiful woman laying in his bed and completely ignoring him in favor of a dusty old tome. Or maybe it was just you. To be fair, Theo found everything about you quite sexy. Even your infamous lectures regarding his drug habits, which you were due to give him in three…two…one….

You huffed indignantly, the action ruffling the feathers on your quill. “I will never understand why you voluntarily choose to put that rubbish into your body.” 

Theo shrugged, blowing a puff of smoke towards the ceiling. “It’s relaxing.” 

“What could you possibly be stressed about, Teddy?” 

He smiled at the nickname. If anyone else called him that, Theo would’ve hexed the life out of them, but he liked the way it sounded when you said it. Especially when you were a little bit annoyed at him. 

“I’ve got a lot on my shoulders, love.” He took another drag and sighed dramatically. “Being rich and handsome is incredibly tiring work.” 

You snorted. “You’re an absolute twat, you know that?” 

Theo held the blunt between his slender fingers and plopped down next to you. “A rich and handsome twat.” 

“A rich, handsome, and dead twat if you don’t get that blunt away from my textbook.” Theo smiled sheepishly before putting out the cigarette on the ashtray by his bedside table. You rolled your eyes and tapped the end of your quill against his chest. “You should really quit. That shit’s terrible for your lungs.” 

Theo turned, cocking his head at you. His watercolor eyes bored into yours as a smirk curved against his lips. “What will you give me if I do?” 

“Theodore Aurelius Nott,” you chided. Despite the blush creeping into your cheeks, you managed to keep your voice steady as you glared at the perfectly coiffed prick. “Do not make me stab you with my quill.” 

He grinned. There was nothing Theo enjoyed more than making his best friend flustered. “I’ll take a light stabbing if it means that you’ll start paying attention to me again.” You laughed at his childish pout. “What are you studying so hard for anyways?” 

“We have a Charms exam on Friday and you know how brutal Flitwick is.”

“Scheduling an exam on the same day as a quidditch game should be a crime punishable by wizarding law.” Theo complained with a groan. “A game against Gryffindor, no less.” 

“Not everything revolves around quidditch, Theo.” 

“Try telling that to Malfoy,” he said with a sigh. “The bloody git’s been running the whole team ragged. For the past three weeks, Draco’s been forcing all of us to wake up before sunrise. I’m losing my precious beauty sleep, Y/N.” 

You pouted, pinching his cheeks. “Poor Teddy bear. How will you ever recover?” 

"Smartass," Theo said with a smirk.

"Top of the class, baby." You rolled over and winked at him. "I really am that witch."

"I think I'm rubbing off on you, love."

"In your dreams, Nott."

He chuckled. "Oh, I'm definitely rubbing off on you." Theo snatched the quill out of your hands. "Enough studying. I'd rather talk about how I'm going to crush those Gryffindor brutes, which I can only do with you cheering me on from the stands."

You took the quill back, tapping its feathery edge against Theo's nose. “You know that watching all that flying makes me nauseous. Plus, I can’t even enjoy myself because I’m too worried about you taking a bludger to the head.” 

“I promise not to let anything ruin my pretty face. I know how much you enjoy the view, after all,” Theo said with a wink. “If you promise to come.” 

“I don’t know, Teddy…”

He pouted, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “Please, Y/N. I need my good luck charm. Plus, you look cute in my jersey.” 

“My eyes are closed half of the time from sheer terror,” you pointed out. Theo watched as you fiddled with the end of your quill. “Besides, wouldn’t it be weird to wear your jersey and cheer you on?” 

Theo’s brows furrowed. “Why would it be weird?” 

“Because,” you said matter-of-factly. “Those are things a girlfriend would normally do.” 

“Well, yes, traditionally. But you’re my best friend,” Theo explained. “It’s not like that between us.” 

The minute the words came out of his mouth, Theo knew it was the wrong thing to say. You stiffened beside him, your body language turning as tense as a bowstring. 

“Right,” you said in a tight tone. “It’s definitely not like that between us.” 

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just—I mean you’re not like the other guy’s girlfriends. We’ve known each other for ages. We just don’t see each other that way.” 

Theodore Nott, idiot extraordinaire. If looks could kill, he’d be at the bottom of the Black Lake waiting to become a delicious feast for the merpeople. 

“Of course not,” you said with humorless laughter. “We’re just friends. It would be mental for anyone to think that we’d ever be in a relationship, right?” 

There was a challenge behind those words. Despite the fact that his dorm was deep within the dungeons, Theo could hear a slight ringing in his ears, like the howl of the wind as he raced past on his Nimbus, heart beating against his chest as he prepared to hurl the quaffle with all his might. Only now his target wasn’t a goal hoop.

It was you. His best friend. The girl he had been head over heels in love with since the moment you pushed Adrian Pucey into a bush at Malfoy Manor for making fun of five year old Theo’s lisp. 

He should say something, anything, but for once in his life, Theodore Nott had no witty comeback in his arsenal. Stupid, pathetic coward that he was, all he could manage was a nod. 

“Right,” he licked his lips nervously. “Just friends.” 

The disappointment in your eyes felt like a punch to the gut. Worse than when he’d broken his arm in third year. Worse than when Mattheo dragged him into a brawl with those brawny Durmstrang guys in fourth year. He would have gladly taken another meaty Bulgarian fist to the face rather than face you right now.

Theo watched helplessly as you rolled off the bed and stuffed your studying materials into your leather satchel. “Wait, Y/N. Are you leaving? I thought you wanted to study?” 

You slipped your shoes on, averting his gaze. “I do, which is why I’m gonna head to the library. I’m more focused there, anyways.” 

Theo was still utterly confused as he scrambled after you. “Let me at least walk you to—”

“That’s really not necessary,” you said, cutting him off. “I’ll see you later, Theo.” 

Theo, did not, in fact, see you later. 

If avoiding him was a sport, you would’ve won the bloody Triwizard cup. The fact that you memorized his schedule for him since he couldn’t be trusted to actually remember to show up to class probably helped. Theo didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you around until you weren’t there. 

When Enzo obliviously rebuffed a Hufflepuff’s attempt to flirt with him at breakfast, Theo turned to your usual spot beside him to nudge you only to find the space empty. When Potter & Co. prattled on about whatever martyr cause they’d picked up that week, Theo found himself searching for you across the Potions classroom to share an eyeroll, but caught a glimpse of your retrieving back instead. The last straw had been when Elizabeth Burke’s portrait refused to let him into his own dorms because Theo couldn’t remember the passcode. He never had to since you always came in together.

In other words, Theo was absolutely fucking miserable. Even the team’s win against Gryffindor failed to lift his spirits. He knew that it had only been a week, but he missed you so fucking much that it actually hurt. 

The sight of you walking into the common room filled him with instant relief. For about half a second. Until he saw that you weren’t alone. 

Then, Theo had reverted back to his sulky self, choosing a shady spot amidst the raging party to drown his sorrows with a bottle of firewhisky. He had gone through at least half of the Ogden’s while chain smoking like a Hungarian Horntail. 

“Oi, what’s got your wand in a twist?” Mattheo asked while snatching the cigarette out of Theo’s mouth. He took a deep inhale and blew a puff of smoke directly into Theo’s face. “Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating our victory? Why’d you look like someone pissed in your soup?” 

“Fuck off, Riddle,” Theo muttered in response as he took back his cigarette. The smoke made the room hazy, but not enough to block you from view. 

The beater—the fucking twat—leaned in to whisper into your ear. Whatever he said made you burst into laughter, which once again filled Theo with pure, unadulterated rage. 

“Someone’s in a mood,” Enzo remarked, plopping down on the sofa beside Theo. A circle of third years hovered at the edge of their group, but as usual, Berkshire remained utterly oblivious to their presence. Bloody hell, he was even worse than Theo. 

“I bet ten galleons that Nott bashes Murdock’s head in before the end of the night,” Draco said.

“Murdock, is it?” Theo grunted. “What do we know about the prick?”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Absolutely nothing. He’s not even worth gossiping about,” he announced dismissively while sipping his drink. Imported French wine, probably. Zabini would never partake in something as common as beer. 

Mattheo’s lips curled in amusement. “Besides the fact that he’s making a move on Theo’s girl.” 

“She’s not my girl,” Theo said defensively. 

“Really?” Malfoy drawled, raising a pale blonde brow. “So you wouldn’t mind if I asked Y/N to dance?”

“Don’t even fucking think about it, Malfoy.” 

The Slytherin boys laughed. For them, the week had been amusing as all hell. They had never seen Theo this wound up before. A few days without Y/N and their usual sassy, sarcastic mate had turned into a complete basket case. 

Pansy sighed. “For Salazar’s sake, Theo. Either man the fuck up or stand down. Y/N deserves to have a good night, too. Who she has it with is entirely up to you.” 

Pansy Parkinson was a pain in the arse, but she was also right. 

With that, Theo put his cigarette out on the ashtray and stood from his place on the sofa. It only took three strides for Theo to get to you. Four for you to startle as he casually put his arm around your shoulders. 

“There you are,” he whispered into your ear. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You froze in place as Theo pulled you close. The scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke enveloped you, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. 

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve flown straight into the fire that was Theodore Nott, but tonight you were in no mood to get burned. You’ve already endured enough pain and humiliation from your last conversation. 

Just friends kept replaying over and over in your head like a broken record. You felt like an absolute pillock. For years, it felt like the two of you had been teetering towards…something. All that shameless flirting, the lingering touches, the late night conversations. You had been stupid enough to believe in the possibility that Theo felt for you what you felt for him. 

But maybe it was all in your imagination. 

“Theo,” you said, slinking out of his reach. Hurt flashed in his eyes as you faced him. “Congrats on the win. Christoph said it was a good game.” 

“It would’ve been better if you were in the stands,” Theo said softly. 

“I was busy.” 

“Yeah, I can see that,” he eyed Christoph with disdain. “Listen, can we go somewhere and talk? I haven’t seen you all week.” 

You crossed your arms. “We just got here.” 

Theo was not well pleased by your use of ‘we’ as if you and Murdock were suddenly now a thing. He barely spared the sodding prick a glance. You couldn’t actually be attracted to this prat, could you? He was all wrong for you. Murdock had a stocky beater build and short blonde cropped hair. You hated beefy guys and you were definitely not a fan of blondes. Case in point: Draco.

No, you liked tall sarcastic brunettes with messy hair and a slight nicotine addiction. 

You liked him. 

So Theo stayed put, meeting your gaze with equal intensity. There was no way in hell he was backing down. 

For good measure, he pouted slightly and fixed his eyes on you. “Please, Y/N.” 

He saw the exact moment when your resolve broke. Your expression softened and your shoulders relaxed, slumping in defeat. You sighed before turning over to Murdock. “Do you mind giving us a moment?” 

Christoph nodded. “I’ll fetch us some more drinks.” 

Theo watched him walk away, or rather, he glared at his back until Murdock was out of sight. 

“Really, Y/N?” Theo asked incredulously. “You're slumming it with that benchwarmer?” 

You wheeled towards him, eyes blazing with fire. Oh, he was truly in for it now. “First of all, I’m not ‘slumming it’ with anyone and even if I were, it’s none of your bloody business. Second of all, Christoph is actually a really nice guy.” 

Theo scoffed. “Yeah, because you’re suddenly into really nice guys now.” 

“Well maybe I got tired of hanging around pricks.” 

Ouch. That one definitely hurt. Even if it was well deserved. 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me all week?” Theo asked, stepping closer. “You’ve been busy with Murdock?” 

Merlin’s beard, Theo was ridiculously tall. He towered a good foot over you, cornering you against the wall. His eyes were stormy and dark like a predator watching its prey. 

“Careful, Theo,” you warned, meeting his gaze. “You almost sound jealous.” 

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Neither one of you were backing down from this little standoff. Theo braced himself against the wall, his face inches away from yours. 

“What if I am?” He challenged, his eyes dipping to your mouth. “What if I told you that it’s taking every ounce of self control I have not to rip Murdock to shreds?” 

A shiver skittered down your spine. Theo wasn’t a violent person. Sure, he’d been in a fight or two, but that was mostly Mattheo’s doing. Your best friend wasn’t the aggressive type, so to hear him threaten Christoph took you by surprise. 

“You have no reason to be jealous, Theo.” You countered. “After all, we’re just friends.” 

“No, we’re not,” he said. “We’ve never been just friends, Y/N.” 

“Then why did you—”

“Because I’m an idiot and a coward,” Theo said with a sigh. “Because I had a beautiful girl in my bed and I had no idea how to tell her that I’ve been in love with her since I was five.” 

All the anger and hurt you’ve been carrying around for the past week instantly dissolved. A little smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “You’re in love with me?” 

“I thought that much was obvious, love.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in response. “Theodore Nott, infamous playboy and shameless flirt, is in love with me. What an interesting development.” 

Theo groaned. “Now is not the time to be a smartass, Y/N.” 

“I think it’s the perfect time—” 

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence. Suddenly, Theo’s lips were on yours. He tasted like peppermint and whiskey, and he kissed you like his life depended on it. You sighed into his mouth, melting against his touch as he cupped the side of your cheek. This was definitely not a just friends kiss. It was a butterfly inducing, head in the clouds, sweep you off your feet kind of kiss. 

Theo's hands snaked around your waist as your fingers found purchase in his shaggy brown hair. He pulled you flush against him like he couldn't get enough. Merlin's pants, Theo really knew how to kiss. His lips were soft against yours, but there was a roughness in his actions that told you that his restraint was hanging on by a thread.

Like he'd been waiting for this for far too long.

You knew the feeling all too well.

"Darling, if you keep kissing me like that then this party will receive a show they didn't ask for."

You stuck your tongue out at him. "You started it."

"Shall I end it too, love?"

"You're an absolute twat, Theodore Nott." You rolled your eyes, kissing the tip of his nose affectionately. “A rich, handsome twat that I'm in love with."

Somewhere across the room, the hoots and hollers of your friends ignited a deafening cheer. Mattheo and Enzo clapped Theo on the back. Blaise raised his glass in approval. Draco smirked and exchanged galleons with Pansy. You didn’t even want to know what that was about.

“Fucking finally,” Mattheo remarked. “Notty boy here has been impossible to deal with this entire week. I never noticed how much of a wanker he can be when you aren’t there to balance him out, Y/N.” 

You chuckled. “It couldn’t have been that bad.” 

Enzo grimaced. “You weren’t on the receiving end of his quaffles,” he said, eyeing Theo. “He nearly took my head off.” 

That only made you laugh more. “Teddy bear wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“No, it’s true. Nott went absolutely mental.” Draco confirmed, draping an arm around your shoulder. “I’ve never seen him play like that. He wiped the floor with those pathetic Gryffindors. You should ignore him more often, Y/N." 

Pansy wrinkled her nose. “Please don’t. Looking at his miserable face put me off my meals for an entire week. I couldn’t even bear to eat any of my special Belgian chocolates. I missed out on Belgian chocolates, Y/N!” 

“You lot are overexaggerating,” Theo said, pulling you in by the waist. “I wasn’t that bad.” 

“Please, you were an absolute mess without Y/N,” Blaise added. 

“More like an absolute wanker,” Mattheo supplied. 

“An absolute supreme mega wanker,” Draco agreed. “Even by my standards.”

“It was pretty brutal,” said Enzo. 

Theo glared at all of them before taking your hand. “Let’s go, Y/N. I’d rather not stand around and get insulted all night.” 

“Sure thing. But I should probably tell Christoph that I’m…indisposed.” 

Mattheo grinned mischievously. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Murdock.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What did you do, Riddle?” 

“I didn’t do anything,” he said innocently. “The boys and I just let him know that he should set his sights elsewhere.” 

“We also might have implied that we’d turn him into a horned bullfrog if he ever hit on you again,” Enzo said with a smile.

“The audacity he even had approaching you is frankly insulting,” Malfoy remarked. “Everyone knows you’re off limits.” He smirked. “Unfortunately.” 

Theo fell right into Draco’s bait. “Don’t hit on my girl, Malfoy.” 

Blaise raised an amused brow. “Oh, she’s your girl now, is she?

“Of course she is,” Theo said. He linked his fingers with yours and flashed those pretty eyes at you. The perfect mixture of blue and green, just like the ocean during a storm. “If she’ll have me.” 

You smiled, wide and bright. “Come on, Teddy. Your girl wants to dance.” 

[scudslut]

Fiending for Daryl x F!reader at the point where they're super domestic and sexually comfortable with each other. Like making jokes like "I'll do that thing you like if you take Dog for a walk ;)" and just being super teasing and playful with each other

lazy mornings w/ daryl

daryl x f!reader

wc: 1k

warnings: teasing, slight allusions to sex, mdni

a/n: omfg i adored this idea. thinking about daryl finally super comfortable with you, able to relax and just be himself is just🥹 i hope this is close to what you wanted!! i kinda got carried away in my imagination with this one lol. alsooo, i have a few other requests i’m working on, i promise i’m not skipping anyone’s i just take forever to write:,)

daryl would absolutely love to tease you. he just loved to see that little spark flash in your eyes, reminding him that you want him and he has you.

he was incredibly shy initiating anything sexual during the first couple years of your relationship. and still to this day it’s not often that he’ll outright vocalize his lust, but rather use his actions and subtle, playful remarks that’ll have you ready to pounce on him the first moment you get. the little sanctuary you call home is his favorite place in the world, and it was only ever you who got to see this goofy, mischievous side of him.

and he found he couldn’t help himself, watching you around the house, so casual and domesticated.

you’d play quiet music often on the little record player he’d found, hair tied up in some messy knot, loose shorts and a small t-shirt the only things adorning your soft skin as you read, or cooked, or whatever hobby was interesting you at the time. it brought out intense feelings inside of him, ones he never imagined he’d ever feel and it almost made him giddy. so happy he could provide that safety for you to simply be, and ravenously hungry to devour you whole any chance he got.

it must’ve been sometime in early may he figured. the sun was bright in the sky no later than 6am the past few weeks. mornings still brisk but afternoons hot and nearing swim-worthy. you both rose late that day, having spent a little extra time in bed where the light flooded through the cabin windows, glowing across fluffy sheets and warm skin, simply too soothing to move from right away. he always woke before you and always had to drink you in for a while, admiring how the sun danced through the strands of your wild hair across the pillows. your chest rose so fluently and calmly it made his own tight. he’d ingrain that picture deep in his memory; your vibrant, lively body something he’d protect till his last dying breath.

you had a leg propped outside the blankets, tossed close to his body subconsciously and he brought his fingers to the soft skin of your exposed thigh, painting invisible shapes. it only took a few minutes before you started mumbling sleepily as he dragged them upwards, towards your inner thigh.

“mmm, good morning,” you breathed softly, eyes still shut but a lazy smile gracing your features.

“mornin' sunshine,” he drawled, leaning down to press light kisses over his artwork. “sleep alright?”

“mhm, you?”

he nodded against your skin. he always slept well next to you, especially now he had you all to himself; your little hole in the woods providing much-needed peace and solitude after all the years without. just you, dog, and acres of tall green trees.

speaking of which, he noticed the door creaking open behind him as he placed more nips and kisses, paws padding across the wooden floors at the sound of your voices finally awake.

his tongue dragged up, grazing over the hem of your panties. your hips shifted beneath him as you moaned softly. “can we make it an agreement that you always wake me up like this?” you gasped when his hands joined in, massaging your plush hips with strong hands.

he snorted at that, “i already always do.”

“mm, right,” you muttered quickly distracted as your hands found purchase on his soft brown locks. your morning brain never failed to amuse him. you’d mutter nonsense half asleep, sure to barely remember when you fully came too.

his fingers were just slipping under the waistband when dog whimpered quietly behind you both. a smirk cast over his face, already hearing your whines of dismay at what he was about to do.

“think somebody needs a mornin' walk,” he pulled away with a kiss to the little bow at the hem. a low groan followed in suit just as he expected and he chuckled slightly.

“D… just a few more minutes.”

but he was already dragging his body off the mattress, grabbing a random strewn shirt and pulling it over his head.

“such a tease, dixon,” he heard from the bed, turning to see you propped up with a phony pout. the corners of his eyes crinkled in a grin at your state, hair wild from sleep, and cheeks flushed pink.

“how bout this,” he bargained, leaning back down to peck your ankle and slowly up your calf. “we take him out quickly, and then i’ll bring ya right back here and let ya have yer way with me… sound fair?”

he watched as you feigned contemplation.

“come on, look at that face,” he pointed to dog, who sat patiently at the foot of the bed, tail wagging.

“never thought i’d get cockblocked by a dog, but, alas,” you sighed, trying your best to cover the grin on your face.

daryl bent over, shielding dog's ears. “hey! he can hear ya y’know,” and there was so more hiding your grin, giggles escaping your lips in fit.

he’d never seen you move so fast after that, speedily throwing on a top that barely covered your ass and rushing to the front door.

“come on doggy boy! your dad and i have a date, we gotta make this quick,” you mused loudly through the house, dog chasing after you.

he couldn’t help but shake his head in laughter, following after his family blissfully. this was definitely his favorite place in the world.

sorry i’m so cheesy byyee❤️

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #14

"You foolish, stupid child," Vlad hisses, pinning Danny to the wall. Danny's eyes turn green as he wraps both his fists around the one Vlad has clenched in his collar, his feet dangling in the air. Vlad leans in, his own eyes burning red.

"When, exactly, did you plan on telling me your biological father was Bruce Wayne?" he says furiously.

Danny's hands drop in surprise. "W-What?" he gasps.

Vlad drops him unceremoniously and he lands on the floor in a heap. Vlad claws at the air in frustration.

"Don't lie to me, boy." Vlad says, omitting his often used possessive "my" in front of "boy".

"How do you know that?" Danny asks warily, propping himself up. He watches Vlad push a shaking hand through his hair. The man looks down at him before dropping in an ungainly squat beside him.

"Of all the sperm donors, Bruce Wayne, Daniel? Really?" The man asks, despairingly.

"I didn't exactly choose him, Vlad."

"No, I suppose you didn't."

"Seriously," Danny says, watching the man rock back on his heels as a growing pit forms in his stomach. "How did you know about him?"

Vlad's mouth twists bitterly. "Because he now knows about you."

"What do you—"

"Vladdy! Danno! What are the two of you doing on the floor?" Jack flops down beside them, a tray of freshly prepared fudge in his hands. "We having a heart-to-heart boys? Let me in on this!"

"Jack," Vlad says. "If you truly want to have a heart-to-heart with your son, I suggest you tell him the real reason I've come over today."

Jack's face falls.

"Vlad," Maddie says from behind him. "Thank you for coming. We're grateful for all you've done, but I think we can handle it from here."

"Madeline," Vlad says, rushing to his feet. "I must insist—"

"And I must insist you see yourself out," Maddie smiles tightly. "You know where the door is, don't you?"

"Mads," Jack says gently, looking between the two.

"I can show him out," Danny says, getting up as well.

"That's alright, Danny," Maddie says. "Why don't you go get your sister? We need to have a talk...as a family."

Danny glances at Vlad.

"Now, Danny," Maddie says. Danny heads for the stairs, pit growing ever larger.

--

The next time they meet it is Danny who has Vlad pinned, the gaudy chandelier above him shaking with the force of his rage.

"You should've told me," Danny growls.

"I thought your parents had you informed," Vlad says, utterly unbothered by the teen cracking what is thankfully not a load-bearing wall of his mansion. "Honestly Daniel, we could throw around allegations of deception on both sides, particularly mine as I assume you've known for quite some time now, if not the entire time, about your father hmm?"

Danny's eyes flick away in an obvious tell.

"Yes, I thought as much. But rather than whinging about being blindsided, I suggest we focus our energy on the solution."

Danny drops Vlad, barely biting back a snarl when the man lands gracefully on both feet.

"Which is?" Danny asks.

"First of all, your well-meaning but frankly moronic parents seem to believe that they can make a case for your custody without the assistance of my legal team. It is in both of our best interests to dissuade them of this."

"They don't like feeling indebted, Mom in particular."

"Well, to be crude for a moment Daniel, tough shit. Yes," Vlad says in response to Danny's widening eyes, "I said it. Bruce Wayne has the best of the best on his payroll and your parent's rinky-dink attorney from the local practice won't stand a chance against Friedman & Sons. Especially once he establishes paternity."

"He can do that?" Danny asks. "I mean I'm almost eighteen, can't I just refuse?"

"The keyword here, Daniel, is almost. As in, you are not. The judge can take your wishes into consideration, but I suspect Wayne will make a case for an unsafe living environment alongside his paternity to win his petition for full custody."

"Un-unsafe living environment?" Danny sputters. Vlad eyes the boy dryly before gesturing to all of him, currently clad in silver and black hazmat. Danny drops the transformation with a wince.

"In fact, I suspect that's the main reason the man filed in the first place," Vlad continues. "Lord knows he doesn't need anymore heirs to fight over his fortune once he passes—"

"Jesus, Vlad,"

"—so I believe he did some digging and found your home to be, well, wanting. On paper, Daniel, your parents sound eccentric at best, dangerous at worst. Pull the right strings, and hospital records just fall into laps. He probably thinks he's rescuing you." Vlad sneers. "If only he knew how quick you are to spit in the face of one offering you a comfortable and wealthy home."

"Fuck off," Danny says. "Is that what this is about? If you can't have me, no one can?"

Vlad rolls his eyes. "Come now, Daniel. Are you really intending to keep up this pretense?"

"What are you talking about?"

"We agreed a long time ago that no matter the nature of our quarrel, we would leave the Justice League out of it," Vlad says, taking a menacing step forward. "You think I, running in the circles I do, would have no knowledge of Bruce Wayne's alter-ego?" He takes another step, voice rising. "I have avoided drawing The Batman's attention for years, no matter how often our paths crossed. I stayed under his radar for decades, and now, BECAUSE OF YOU, I AM ABOUT TO BE RUINED."

With a creak and a groan, the chandelier drops, landing between them with a crash. Danny coughs from the dust as Vlad takes a heaving, calming breath.

"Then why get involved at all?" Danny asks, staring at the ground.

Vlad sighs, clapping his hands twice. Several ghosts dressed in service uniforms fly out the woodwork, gathering up bits of chandelier as others begin to mop.

"Because, little badger," Vlad says, walking away from the mess. "If we lose this, he'll have you in the palm of his hands. Which is infinitely worse."

Entering the kitchen, he pulls an open bottle of white out of the kitchen fridge and pours himself a glass, throwing a Fiji water to Danny who takes it for the peace offering it is.

"He won't."

"Won't what, Daniel? Please speak in full sentences."

"Won't have me," Danny says, letting a thin coat of frost spread over the bottle. He tips the freezing cold water into his mouth and wipes his face with his sleeve, mostly to see Vlad grimace.

"Why, because you'll run away if he wins? Until you turn eighteen? I won't have you fail to complete your education because of a cockamamie scheme, Daniel—"

"Because I have a solution, Vlad, one that doesn't involve the courts or running away."

"And what is that, exactly, Daniel?"

--

"You're going to leave my family alone."

"Danny," Mr. Wayne says, blinking in surprise at the boy on his doorstep and miles away from Illinois.

"I mean it," Danny says firmly. "You're going to drop your petition and whatever smear campaign you were planning on and leave the Fentons alone."

"Danny...why don't you come inside?"

Danny takes a step back from the manor's large doors. "You want a relationship with me? Brute force isn't the answer."

Bruce takes in the teenager, lanky but almost to his eye level. His eyes are clear and sharp, his demeanor forcibly calm.

"I debated whether going through the court was the right thing to do," Bruce says slowly, matching calm with calm. "But I wanted to be above board."

"Because my adoption wasn't?" Danny says, arms crossed. "Yeah, I'm aware. Kinda hard to adopt a kid that doesn't legally exist. And I know what you're going to say, the Fentons should've reported me to the system, but they didn't do it because I begged them not to. Because I didn't want my biological parents to find me."

"Danny..."

"You can swing your dick around and get your way, exactly the way I thought you would do things," Danny says, "Or you can have a relationship with me on my terms. A relationship where I don't despise you because you took me away from the people who've loved me no matter their faults."

"You're asking me to choose your happiness over your safety." Bruce says carefully.

"That's bullshit," Danny says. "I had a lab accident when I was fourteen and went directly against my parents' instructions. They trusted me, and I made a mistake."

"It's not a matter of trust. You were a child, Danny, and you almost died." Bruce says, not bothering to feign ignorance. Footsteps echo behind him.

"Bruce?" A voice calls. "Is that..?"

"Your son did die," Danny says. "He took a flight with your credit card to Ethiopia and got blown up. I bet you trusted him too."

Bruce reels back as a hand lands on his shoulder, the other on the door.

"Whoa, whoa, uh, Danny, right? I'm Tim, I'm—"

"I know who you are," Danny says, clenching his fists. Powering through the hurt he is causing. "I didn't come here to point out what a total hypocrite you are. I just want you to back off. And if you give me your number, we can text and I'll come to Gotham for Thanksgiving or the ski chalet in Vermont or your villa in where-the-fuck-ever and you can be Uncle Bruce that I maybe even tolerate being around once in a while. Just leave my family alone."

"Bruce, what is he talking about?" Tim asks. "Back off of what?"

"Your Dad is suing my parents for full custody," Danny says when it becomes clear Bruce isn't answering.

"What?" Tim hisses, turning to Bruce. "That isn't what we talked about!"

"Danny. I..."

"Here," Danny says, thrusting an index card forward that he's scrawled his phone number and email onto. On the other side is the past participle conjugation for 'venir'. "I won't answer until you drop the custody petition. Which I expect you to do by tomorrow morning."

"Done," Tim says, stepping past Bruce and taking the card. "Give me about noon to get it all squared away with the lawyers. Do you have a hotel? A way home? I'd be happy to reimburse your flight and accommodation."

"Overstepping already."

"Fair enough," Tim says coolly, raising his hands. "Our lawyers will reach out when it's settled."

"Great. Bye." Danny says, turning to leave. He waits until he hears the manor door close behind him before pulling out his cell phone.

Ring!

Ring!

"Hello?"

"It's done."

"What's done? Again, little badger, full sentences, I beg of you."

[ellieshoochiemama]

Her. (E. W.)

Summary: Ellie joins you in your room during your brother's party.

Warnings (18+ MDNI): smut, swearing, fingering (r!receiving), cum eating (sort of), drinking, smoking, porn w/ some plot, bbf!ellie, loser!ellie. lmk if I missed any!!!

Word count: 1.7k

A/n: my first smut!!! So sorry if this sucks lmaooo

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It was a hot and humid summer night. That sizzling summer day was your brother's choice for a party. His friends were all gathered in the backyard, sipping on buzz-balls and inexpensive tequila shots. To be honest, you wanted to ditch this and curl up with your favorite rom-com instead, but you didn't. Your brother made the effort to persuade you to assist with setup, stay, and speak with the guys who were obviously watching you. It fucking sucked.

Especially since she was here. The only person you didn’t mind stealing glances from. Your brother's best friend for the past five years.

She had no idea how much she meant to you. Her teasing, the looks up and down, and the shivers you felt when she called your name.

Occasionally, she would catch you staring, her green eyes meeting yours, but she would ignore it. The girl she was talking to seemed to be blocking her, making it seem impossible for you to get close to her. Watching the girl drool over Ellie. Fuck.

Just brush it off. As you stood up from your seat to grab your next tequila shot, you rolled your eyes.

You made it to the table filled with alcohol. The moment you had a full shot glass in your hand, you hurried off. Jerking back your head as you sense the liquid burning in your throat. Fuck this boring shit.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Heading for your room, you walked somberly back into your home's solitude. You changed out of the dress you were wearing and put on an oversized crewneck and sleep shorts. As you tuck yourself into bed, there is a knock at the door.

You come to halt. In the hopes that they would go away if you said nothing.

"Come on, I know you are in there." Ellie continued, pounding on your door once more. "Alright, Fuck, I'm coming." When you open the door, Ellie's hands are tucked into the pockets of her sweat pants.

“Can I come in?” Softly, Ellie said. "Why not," and you opened the door to let her in. Trailing closely behind her, you shut the door. In silence, the two of you sat awkwardly on the edge of your bed.

"So what's up-" you begin, but Ellie cuts you off. "I'm sorry for bothering you. It's just so fucking boring out there."

"I was done with it, too, but you seemed real cozy with that blonde chick." You drew your arms across your chest. "Meh, she’s not really my type." She looked at you, waiting for a response of some kind.

The tension was thick. What the hell is she doing to make you feel this way? Her gorgeous brown freckles glistened in the warm light from your room, like stars. Her emerald eyes scrutinize, even torment you. Her lips tinged with saliva as she licked them.

"Listen, if and only if you smoke with me, I will get out of your hair." reaching into her hoodie pocket and removing a rolled joint. It was too soon to decline the offer. So you took it. Taking the joint from her grip and the lighter from your bedside table.

"don't gotta ask me twice." As you lit the joint, you smiled. Breathing in all the smoke, you held it in until your lungs began to burn before exhaling it. With her eyes fixed on you, Ellie observed you. You give her the joint.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It didn't take long for it to hit. Your eyes darkened to a pale pink hue. Ellies' cheeks the same hue. All of a sudden, everything seemed more genuine. The way Ellie observed you and the rhythm of your heartbeat. At once, it encompassed everything.

"I missed hanging out with you." Ellie said, her eyes heavy as she met yours. It was like you could feel everything all at once. The muffled sounds of the 'sex playlist' played from outside. With the joint still burning, a haze of smoke filled the room. Having her here with you, you felt complete.

"Hey, do you want to try something?" Breaking the stillness was Ellie's raspy voice. "Like what?" you laugh. "Just trust me," Ellie says, grabbing the joint.

Her large hand lands on your jaw, gently pressing against it. Breathlessly, you said, "Els, what are you doing?" She disregarded you and took a long drag on the joint, holding it in her mouth rather than inhaling. Her lips found yours as she leaned in. You take a deep breath as your instinct takes over. She and all the smoke combined. It was intoxicating.

She began to back away, but you stopped her by holding onto her wrist, which was resting on your cheek, and drew her back in. You were so eager to feel her again that your nose bumped hers. With her other hand on the back of your neck, her calloused hand found the base of your neck and gripped it. Her full pink lips moved in unison with yours. Her tongue slowly possessing each crevice of your mouth.

She was a fantastic kisser. No guy you have ever kissed has been this good. You both drew back, trying to catch your breath. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Fuck Els” as you leaned on each other's foreheads.

"I want you." Her hot breath teased your face as she whispered it. Pushing her back, you wrapped your thighs around hers. She took hold of the fat of your ass and began kneading it like dough. It’s driving you crazy.

Her wet mouth latched onto the frail skin on your jawline leading down to your collar bone. All that could be heard were Ellie's labored breathing and the whines and whimpers that were dripping from your throat as she sucked and nibbled until bruises were left.

It was filthy. So filthy. But all you wanted was more. You can feel the slick pooling between your thighs as her hands indulged your body's curves. You gazed up at her, grinding into the seat of her lap. Her mullet cut hair fell perfectly on her face. Her eyes were dark like a gem, so full of lust that you could feel her crumbling beneath you.

Ellie grabs your hips and drives you deeper into her as you grind onto her clothed sex. She knows how badly you want this.

"What are you doing, hmm?" Ellie lets out a groan. Her cold veiny hand caresses the sliver of skin between your shorts and sweatshirt. "Ellie, please." You take her hand in yours and guide it up your stomach, stopping at the mounds of your naked tits. Her lips parted slightly as she felt the hard buds under her rough hands. You lift the hem of your shirt over your head, revealing yourself to her. She immediately gnaws at your tits, groaning from the sensation of you.

Your hands become entangled in her auburn hair, drawing her in as close as possible. You are pathetically wet for her. Your cunt aches for her. Ellie slid her hand up to the hem of your shorts, teasing her finger against your smooth skin. “Can I?” She asked roughly. You eagerly nod your head.

She pulls the thin fabric of your shorts down your thighs. "Fuck you are so wet," she says, her mouth watering at the slick glistening on your thighs. You cut her off by grabbing her hoodie and pulling it over her head. She held you skin to skin, sliding her middle finger down to your puffy clit. Rubbing small circles on it as you grind harder into her hand. Dragging her long digit to your aching hole, dipping the tip in and out ever so slightly. You can’t help but moan.

She puts her other hand around your neck and squeezes, not too hard, but just enough to break you. Her calloused, thick finger slides into your cunt. The pressure on your neck causes your pussy to throb around her finger.

"You are so fucking tight, babe, want me to fuck you with my fingers?" She says with clenched teeth. Ellie’s boxers felt tight around her thighs, probably soaking through her sweatpants just from watching you. She sloshes her finger deep inside your pussy dragging it against your gummy walls. You moan feeling her reach deeper in you. Pulling the slick coated finger out she lines up her ring finger to your hole joining her middle one. She kept her eyes on your pussy watching it stretch around the width of her digits.

“Oh fuck Ellie” you throw your head back feeling the pit of your stomach burn with arousal. You sink fully on her fingers pressing so hard you feel the hill of her palm on your clit. You let out a throaty whine and gasp as she pulls in and out, fucking you deep, hitting that ever-so-sensitive spot in you.

“There it is.” She murmured as she pounded her palm into your pussy. Her mouth finds your tits again, sucking on the peak of your nipple. Your jaw goes slack as she moves against you. "Mmmph fuck Els," you whimper.

"Cum for me. Cum right on my fingers." Ellie mumbles out. Your walls clench around her hand. Ellie grabs your jaw with her free hand and pulls you into a wet kiss. Riding her hand you moan into her mouth.

You inhale sharply. “Ellie I’m cumming”. As she fucks into you and rides out your orgasm, a whine escapes your mouth. She doesn’t pull out of you until you’re all spent. Her fingers pruned from your release. Raising them to her lips, she inserts them. She moans, sucking off your slick. "Tastes so fucking good"

Your thighs tremble around her waist as you give her another hungry kiss. She draws you in by roughly holding your hips with her hands. A knock interrupts your passionate kiss.

"Ellie, are you in here?" Your brother questioned from outside of the door. Oh fuck. You rush away from Ellie, finding your sleep shorts and a random shirt, while Ellie finds her own shirt. Once settled Ellie opens the door.

"You all okay?" Ellie's pink cheeks and the hickeys on your neck catch his attention. She brushed her auburn hair down with her fingers.

"mhm yeah, why?" she responds. "Ellie was just wondering why I left the party," you say.

"I need a partner for beer pong, we are about to play," he says. "All right, I am heading back down," Ellie says, turning to face you. "Okay, guys, have fun," you say as you watch them walk away.

You sink back into your bed. I am in way too deep.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Successional Pleasure: The Rite (II)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s very…interesting,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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