#like what do you mean i now have a pale line around my fucking wrist

[crazylittlejester]

genuinely devastated because i had to cut off a wristband i’ve been wearing for the past 5-6 weeks because i physically couldn’t go another hour without wearing my brace, and i couldn’t wear it over the wristband these past several weeks without the hard plastic piece on it digging into my arm so i just didn’t wear the brace. but i couldnt get the wristband off any other way besides cutting it despite trying for like two hours to shove metal into the latching thing to try to unhook it 😭

[insert image of guy crying face down on the ground im too tired to find the pic rn]

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Heavyweight: Chaggie

Buckle up, Buttercups! This is a bit long. Google translate will be your friend.

Charlie: (exiting her office after a 72 hour video meeting and bee-lining towards the bar) UggGHhghhhHHh!!!! I need a DRINK!!!

Alastor: (whirling in out of nowhere) I wouldn't go in there if I were you.

Charlie: (jumps) Holy Shit!!! Fuck! Alastor, can you not do that, please? You nearly gave me a heart attack.

Alastor: So sorry, dear. I'm just warning you before you go anywhere that the bar is in quite the unsavory state right now.

Charlie: What do you mean? Did Cherri invite her biker friends again?

Alastor: Oh, heavens, no! That little manager of yours would never allow that to happen again.

Charlie: Alastor, we've talked about this. Her name is Vaggie. But why is the bar in an unsavory state?

Alastor: (grins wider) Oh, I suppose you'll just have to see it to believe it, I'm afraid. (opens the door to the bar and latin music blares through the hotel)

Charlie: Alastor, I really don't have the mental fortitude to deal with your bipolar-

-Record Screech-

Charlie: -WHY IS VAGGIE BENCHING THE POOL TABLE IN NOTHING BUT A BRA AND HER SKIRT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Hazbins: GO!!! GO!!! GO!!! GO!!! GO!!!

Husker: (counting off Vaggie's reps) Forty-eight! Forty-nine! FIFTY!!!! That's it! Vaggie wins!!!

Vaggie: HA!!! (flips the pool table off to the side and stands up victoriously while speaking Spanish) ¡Toda la razón! ¡Paga, Ángel!

Hazbins: (half cheering and half groaning as money exchanges hands and a few lift Vaggie up like a champion)

Angel: (drunkenly slurring in Italian)

Charlie: And WHY are they speaking like that?!

Alastor: (cleaning his monocle) Ms. Vagatha found out that Angel took a video of your drunken stupor last week and demanded he give all copies to her. He said he would only do it if she out drank him.

Charlie: Again. Not her name. And WHAT?!?!?!?!

Alastor: Needless to say, that woman would do anything for you, so they went shot for shot on something called "tequila". Quite the show, if I say so myself. Angel ended up vomiting in the trash can. They've been arguing in Spanish and Italian ever since. It's almost friendly at this point.

Charlie: BUT WHY IS VAGGIE HALF NAKED?!?!?!?!?!

Alastor: (obviously disgusted by the display but keeping his smile) She didn't want to rip her uniform.

Vaggie: (spots Charlie from her elevated position)

¡Charlie, mi amor!

Charlie: (arrow to the heart as she watches Vaggie hop down and strut over to her, eyes zeroed in on the sway of her girlfriend's hips) Oh, fuck..... I'm in trouble....

Vaggie: (hugs Charlie tight before taking her hand and kissing it) ¿Cómo estuvo tu reunión?

Charlie: (gets goosebumps and blushes) UuuUuUhhhHHHhhh.... V-Vaggie, babe, y-you know I'm not good with my Spanish yet.

Vaggie: Lo sé. (chuckles deeply and looks at Charlie through her long lashes as she snakes her arm around Charlie's waist while the other hand strokes her thumb over Charlie's pulse on her wrist) También sé que te gusta cuando te hablo así en español.

Charlie: (blushing deeper as she wiggles out of her suit jacket and wraps it around Vaggie's shoulders) L-Let's get you covered up.

Vaggie: (smirking as she traces her fingers around the waistband of Charlie's trousers and gently untucks her shirt so she can drag her fingers across the pale skin underneath) Eres tan dulce… y tan sexy cuando te sonrojas.

Charlie: (feels her tail and horns spring up as Vaggie's nails drag across the skin of her hip and tries to corral Vaggie towards the door) OH-KAY!!! L-Let's get you upstairs to bed!

Vaggie: (maneuvers herself so she's escorting Charlie up the stairs leading to their room and uses her wings so that she can hover right next to Charlie's ear from behind) Only if you join me~

Charlie: (thighs pinch together as a spark of electricity jolts through her body and whines) ...oh fuck....

Vaggie: Now, you're catching on~

[thomasisaslut]

Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Breeding — Kinktober

Word Count: 1.4k

Includes: Breeding, Begging, Rough Sex, Hinted Handcuffs, Marking, Biting, Hickeys.

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50455189

On Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/353310470-𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠-𝐊𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢-𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐟𝐞𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧-𝐱-𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

You have been dating Loki for years now, with him being a god it had both it's positive and negatives however there was one specific perk you loved the most—the sex. It was, well, godly.

Shifting your position on the king-sized bed you feel a weight move off of the bed, looking over your shoulder you see Loki fleeing to the bathroom, over-sized Midgardian pants covering his toned legs. Odd... he hates mortal clothing.

The bathrooms door slams shut, shaking his bedroom. Your feet quickly carry you over to the door, you knock.

"Loki? Are you alright?" You ask, your tone laced with concern for your lover.

"I'm fine." He grumbles, you hear the sound of cabinets being opened frantically before he snaps his fingers.

"What are you doing in there?" You question.

"Nothing." He replies quickly, you hear a bottle squirt some sort of liquid, your guess was soap... or it was until you heard a sloshing sound.

"Loki open the door." You demand, tugging and turning the handle of the door.

"No." He snaps, his breath hitching as he continues to make whatever noise.

"Loki." You warn, suddenly the door flies open and your pinned against it as it shuts. Looking down you see his hardened cock in his large hand, lotion lathered over it.

"Shut it, slut." He snaps before kissing your harshly.

"Lo-" Before you have a chance to protest you're being turned around, his bulge rubbing against your rear.

Then suddenly the feeling is gone, he has stepped back. You turn to face him once again when you see his skin changing. His once pale, creamy skin is now rough and blue—lapis colored lines along his arms and chest down to his still very hard dick.

"You need to leave, [First Name]." Loki demands, now in his Jotun form.

"No." You argue.

"Darling, please." He pleas. "It is for your own good..."

"Tell me what's wrong, Loki." You step closer to the now 10 foot tall man, your hands come up to his abs—the cool feeling of his torso cause you to shiver—and you hear him suck in a breath.

"Get. Out." He warns again, begging you to leave.

Your eyes dart down to his penis that is now leaking with pre, your right hand travels down his abs to his V-line when it is suddenly yanked away. Loki quickly grabs your other wrist and pins both of them back against the bathrooms door. You look up at him, waiting for an explanation.

"I am going to tell you this once more, darling. If you do not leave I will fuck you, claim you, breed you." His now red eyes meet yours, they're filled with lust.

"Breed me?"

"Fuck..." He pulls you over his shoulder before walking out of the restroom and throwing you back onto the dark green, satin sheets. "In Jotun it is summer, meaning, it is a heat season."

"So?" You ask, your head tilts—like a confused puppy.

"So, It is how it effects animals... a heat cycle."

Your eyes widen, cheeks flush. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I thought since we are on Midgard it wouldn't.." He groans and rocks his hips against you instinctively. "Effect me."

"Well, if you need sex all you had to do was ask." You smile.

"It's not the same, darling... I have the urge to claim you, fuck you so hard you're seeing stars, breed you, make you pregnant with my heir." He growls, blue hands find your wrists once more, pinning you to the bed.

"I am more than ready for that, Loki." Your smile remains.

"What?" He laughs.

"Breed me, Loki. Claim me as yours." You tease him, locking your legs around his bare waist and tugging him closer so his cock is aligned with your clothed cunt.

"You don't know what you're saying, pet." He grunts as he moves his hips—his pelvis rubbing against the back of your thighs.

"Please?" You smirk.

Without another word your pants are shucked down along with your panties, his hard cock now resting on your nude cunt.

"Are you sure, darling? I will not hold back, my cock will lodge so far into your little pussy there will be no possible way to avoid being bred." Loki smirks.

"Y-Yes.." You whimper, squirming under his hold.

"Good, pet." His smirk grows, his red eyes swarm with lust as he looks down at his prey—you.

His cold, blue hands trail down your sides, his palms rubbing against your waist, hips, down to your thighs before they dip into inner thigh. The pads of his fingers slowly caress your cunt before dipping in one finger. You whimper.

"What happened to not holding back?" You smirk, trying to get more of him from your lover.

"You'll wait, slut." He snaps before inserting two more fingers, now pumping into your tight pussy. "You're not allowed to cum until I allow you."

You nod, your hips rocking to match his fingers thrusting into you. He smirks at your reactions before he brings his face closer to yours.

"So eager... so wanting." He mumbles against your throat before nibbling on it, you moan.

His left hand tightens his grip on your wrists before you feel a heavier force on them, you attempt to look up when his hand slides down your arms to your chin—forcing you to look at him as he marks your neck.

"Don't take your eyes off me, pet." Loki demands.

You whimper in reply, his right hand continues to pump in and out of you. His lips trail down your chest before finally reaching your hard nipples. Loki takes one of them into his cold mouth, the sensation causing you to moan loudly.

"Let me hear you." He smirks before continuing to bite and toy with your tits.

"Loki!" You whine, wanting more of his mouth, his hands, him.

"Louder, slut." He inserts a fourth finger into your dripping cunt then takes your nipple back into his mouth, his cold tongue lapping on the hard nub.

"I need you! Loki! Please! Do what you promised, breed me, cum inside me!"

He finally snaps, his hands come off you—leaving your cunt aching and wanting. Your juices left on his hand he uses as lube, stroking up and down his cock before he inserts it into you and a harsh thrust. His hands find your hips and he begins to pound into you.

"Loki!" You moan, the sound filling the Midgardian room.

"I'm going to breed you... cum inside you until you're filled, make you pregnant with my heir... oh fuck, pet." He grunts, his head flies back as he picks up his pace.

"Yes! Fill me.. oh fuck.. please, please, Loki!" You beg, chasing your own release. When he stops.

"Remember what I said, slut. You cum when I say you can." He smirks as he thrusts harder into you.

"No... Loki, please!" You whine.

"Oh... fuck, pet. I'm so close..."

Loki moves one of his hands from your hips to your clit, stroking and rubbing gently. Much different than his cock.

"Take it, take it!" He shouts before shooting his load into your cunt. He continues to pound you, not daring to stop until you cum. Loki strokes your clit faster.

"Say it, say my name as you cum, pet." He demands.

"L-Loki!" You scream as you release.

He slowly pulls out, there are marks all over your hips, your throat marked with hickeys, your wrists bruised. Loki slowly shifts back to his normal form, the blue fades from his skin.

"You did so good, princess." He smiles before hooking his arm under your back. "We're going to have a child... a little us." Loki grins, happily.

"Mm... yes, we are, Loki." You smile back. He quickly lifts you up then carries you to the bathroom. Placing you in the tub he sinks in the hot water beside you.

"I love you." He mutters, taking you into his lap as he caresses your back.

"I love you too, my god."

He laughs. "Yes, I am your god."

What a perfect way to start a family... your perfect lover with you, forever, a little version of both of you. You smile as you kiss him.

"Yes, you are."

[rivangel]

J-jerking Levi off for the first time,,

L-Levi having wet dreams

rod reiss' only relatable moment jajaja oh yes virgin levi my favorite forever and ever. i hope u like this hibi :3

➥ pairing: subby!Levi x afab!soft dom!taller!Reader

➥ c/w: VIRGIN LEVI!!, canonverse, teasing, pitifully horny levi, handjob, groping&touching

➥ wc: 1.2k

jdjfjwf I imagine it starting as a slow, quiet moment where you and Levi have found time to relax—for once.

Laying on the couch in his office. It’s not roomy whatsoever, but it’s more than cushy since he never uses it. Plus with his small size, cuddling is cozy, him on his back and nestled in your arms.

You start playing with the thin hems of his sweatshirt in a wandering way. Could easily be mistaken for mindless touches, but whether or not that’s true, he notices as soon as your slight grazes touch his warm skin below his waist. And of course, he can’t help but be turned on by what is the bare minimum of attention. Levi is sensitive. Virgin!Levi is like a raw nerve, squirming and turning his restless head.

He trusts you without question or hesitation, which means you can communicate without the need for words. It’s like pulling teeth to communicate what he wants anyway, so his body reacts for him. He shivers when your soft breaths fan over his pale throat, and arches towards your strokes down his muscular sides, just enough pressure applied to tease.

As your hand disappears and roams up his his hard ab muscles, his follows and rests overtop it. He should've expected it. Still he gasps shockingly loud for the quiet room as your thumb rubs his nipple.

Just barely, he manages to peel open his eyes as your other hand crawls down the trail of black hair under his navel, to his trapped cock pushing against the front of his pants, between his thick thighs.

Just watching makes him crave your hand on him, and, not being the patient type, huffs in forced irritation and slides it down for you. He flicks open the button.

Huffing a light chuckle, you drag his zipper down. “Don’t need to rush.”

“I’m not,” he lies blatantly, a huff leaving through a deep breath. He then kisses you to leave no room for any more discussion.

You feel for yourself how stiff his cock is through his boxer shorts—harder than some kissing and fondling should be worth. Much harder.

If you didn't know he was a virgin, well fuck it's obvious enough when you rub through the cotton, and his cock throbs eagerly for your touch. He breaks away, a sticky line still connecting your mouths, to whine.

“So cute…”

When his hard cock is freed and slaps his hip, Levi audibly flinches.

"Okay?"

He nods much more eagerly than he meant to show and reveal his desperation. “It’s…”

“Sensitive?”

“Ngh… He watches through lidded eyes as you rub his blushing tip between three fingers until it’s gleaming and drooling.

He squirms, again more than you thought he could when he’s so hard to read the vast majority of the time. Every now and again, a small jolt runs through his thighs, which you feel in its entirety with your legs caging in his own. His grip on your forearm is ever-present, a little tighter than gentle—like he’s holding on just to hold onto you. After all, his knuckles are tight on your shirt with his other hand, just below your shoulder, tugging on your neckline. He doesn’t realize he’s doing it, or he’s only as aware of it as the fact he’s nuzzling your neck. Heavy, warm breaths fan over your skin.

“You’re so pretty, Levi…” You kiss his forehead and take his hand down to your breast.

You feel his lips grimace as his shaft throbs in your fist, Gently, he squeezes, and a soft whine unlike him escapes. The vibration, and now the warmth of his bare grip playing with your tit, is addicting.

“You sound so pretty.”

Determined to melt more of his defenses, you bring your fist around his tip, with your thumb ghosting his slit, and crank your wrist slowly.

His whole body jolts, and with a sharp gasp, his forehead digs into your neck. His knees tremble, hips raised. His thumb switches to playing with your firm nipple almost frantically.

“God, you’re so sensitive. You like my hand, don’t you.”

“F-Fuck. Mhm…” he hums, his voice laced with a nervous shake. He whimpers your name, trailing off.

His cock throbs, a bit of precum drooling down your knuckles. He hisses through his teeth, adamantly hiding his face in your neck.

You hum in approval, pumping your hand in fuller strokes again. Now, properly wet. His thighs jolt again, parting wider. His breaths strain.

“Are you okay?” you croon, turning your head.

With his hiding place taken away, he has no choice but to rest his head on your shoulder and close his eyes. His dark brows are furrowed in focus, with his lips, darker and slightly swollen from biting, are parted just enough to give you a peek of his pink tongue. The warmth turning his cheeks rosy contrasts brightly against his otherwise pale skin.

At the question, he tenses his jaw, but nods.

“Are you sure?” You slow down some.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers quickly, his hand sliding down and gripping your wrist, now with purpose. He pins his bottom lip between his teeth, and you watch. For how nervous he is, his hips rock to meet your every movement. “Don’t fucking stop.”

“Please,” he adds.

“Hm.” You lean in and kiss him, fingers laced in his soft hair to hold him in place.

Instantly, he melts into you, moaning soft. His breath is constantly bleeding into his voice now, giving you the pleasure of hearing him whine. Far under his breath, but more and more as his cock strains and the friction reaches perfection.

It gets to be too much to focus on kissing. He's practically gasping into your open mouth instead, tensing fitfully. He whines your name like a confession.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Ngh... Fuck..."

You glance, letting your strokes loosen and slow to watch his cock twitch so tightly. Levi notices, and digs his nails into your wrist, hardly containing himself. "You can't just... fuck..."

"Can't what, sweetheart?" you ask so sweetly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Levi sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and it leaves in a whine. “Yes you do.”

He's squirming endlessly; you smile into his tender throat while you hold him still, feeling him swallow.

"I can't. I'm so close, I'm close, close..." he whispers in a soft, shy tone over and over again.

You moan, just faintly, teeth knicking his throat. "Why do you sound embarrassed...? Of course I wanna see you come. Lemme hear you, lemme feel it in my hand—"

“H-Hah—!”

He freezes and cuts himself off, scarcely even breathing. You press your nose against his flaming cheek to feel, even, the moment he loses agency over a bitten cry. His eyes shut tightly while his head tries to fall back. Past his pink tongue, his jaw is dropped so you get a peek of his canines.

His cock throbs eagerly. His climax shakes through his entire body, making it so obvious, so erotic that as warm cum spurts between your knuckles and his thighs quiver, you can't help but moan with him—taking pleasure in his, as if it were your own.

[swagmagussupreme]

@whiterose-fans-blog White Rose in Bloom, Day 1: Hobbies

"Stay in the lines, don't let me hit you."

Simple enough rules, just two things. That was all she had to do. Stay between the two lines that they'd chalked across her backyard— the space was about two or three feet, so that wasn't a struggle— and don't get let her girlfriend hit her.

"Uh, hit me with what?"

Weiss rolled her eyes and reached into her white duffel. "The épée, dumbass," she said obviously, pulling out one of the skinny swords with a ball for its tip. One of her densely-meshed fencing masks followed after, flying from her hand and tumbling between Ruby's, who nearly fumbled it to the grass before she collected herself. She slipped it over her head and held her hands out.

"Hey, where's your helmet?" Ruby asked after a second.

Weiss shrugged. "Don't need one."

"You're that cocky?"

"Ha!" the duelist barked, shaking her head imperiously. "No, not at all."

"Then where's your mask? And my épée?"

Weiss snapped her fingers. "Bingo!"

"Huh?"

"Ruby, baby, sweetie, my perfect, beautiful, sexy-hot, stupid, dumb idiot darling dumbass," Weiss cooed, tipping her hips left and right in the way she did when she was trying to get Ruby flustered (which always worked, including now). "You are not fencing. You've got two left feet."

Ruby huffed. "I'm a leftie, dude."

"Did I say two left feet? I meant two peg-feet. Like a shitty pirate."

"You're a shitty pirate."

Weiss tapped her chin with the épée, faking pensivity. "I won't deny that I am after yer booty, yarr."

The fencing mask was a little awkward, but it had the benefit of hiding Ruby's stupid blush. "Sh-shut the fuck up."

"Shuh-shuh-shut uuup!" Weiss mocked, stepping closer as she tauntingly wagged her sword. She came within arm's length, her chin high, her blue gaze brimming with pride and expectation. "And why would I? What reason would I possibly have to deprive the world my angelic tones?"

Ruby took the mask off to glare down at the shorter girl, her lips curled into a warning scowl. "Weiss..."

"I mean really! You expect me, your perfect and incredible girlfriend, to not mock you? You, my own sweet, stupid girlfriend, my own heart which couldn't possibly rebut the skills of my swordsmanship?"

She knew what she was doing. Ruby growled, "Babe..."

Weiss affected perfect, innocent ignorance. She continued to declare, "Oh, it's not your fault your blood is so bereft of talent and skill, so absent of mine ethereal beauty, my siren-song of being! What's a poor thing like you to do? Really?"

"Last chance."

"And you are so, so stupid and so, so inferior that it'd just be wrong to put such a gentlemanly tool in your rough, mannish palms!" Weiss sauntered closer, raising one of Ruby's hands to display its calloused interior. She tutted. "It simply isn't done, darling. It isn't done."

Ruby stared, her grey eyes dead. "Are you done?"

Weiss grinned up at her, knowing and confident. "Did I mention you're basically my trophy wife?"

"Your trophy wife."

"Because you're pretty. More or less, though a bit... homely. Maybe more of a housewife."

"Uh-huh. Homely."

"Oh very, like you belong in the home. Cooking and cleaning and such."

"Progressive."

"It suits you."

"For sure."

"You can walk around my home all naked with just an apron, maid outfits on Wednesdays, nun outfits on Sundays for Jesus."

"You know me, big for Jesus. Bless up."

"And you'll get to bear all my heirs like some... broodmare."

"Oh broodmare, holy shit. You just said that in real life. Incredible."

"And they'll be giant babies, but it's your job as my wife."

A pause. Weiss smirked up at her girlfriend, chin high, pale neck exposed.

Ruby dropped the mask and pursed her lips. "I'm gonna choke you out now."

Weiss beamed. "You think you could?" She wiggled the skinny blade between them. "I'm armed."

Ruby blinked, unimpressed, and grabbed the épée around its dull blade with one hand, her other hand shooting up to clutch Weiss' wrist. She squeezed the latter, and the fencer was smart enough to drop the sword before Ruby could apply any real force. She let the épée fall and wrapped Weiss' waist in her arms, lifting her bodily so bring them both to the ground. Ruby landed mostly on her own side so she didn't hurt the smaller girl, then twisted around her back to pin Weiss' captured wrist between her own sharp shoulder blades, her other arm going around Weiss' pale neck and fitting the trachea into the crook of her elbow.

"Tap," Ruby commanded, wrapping her legs around Weiss' waist to finish her hold.

Weiss struggled, her free arm flapping uselessly. "Never!" she whined.

Ruby flexed her bicep.

Weiss stiffened and started pawing at her girlfriend's chokehold. "Harder mommy," she squeaked thinly.

"Jesus fuck, dude."

"Jesus won't save you!"

Ruby wrenched the girl's wrist up, just a tiny bit, barely enough to—

"Okayokayokay!" Weiss spluttered, her horny clawing turned to frantic tapping. "Tap out!"

Ruby snorted, but relaxed her hold with a kiss to the fencer's snow-white crown. "Good girl."

"Fuck you."

Weiss was pressed close against her girlfriend's martial-toned body, the chokehold now a warm hug that wrapped across her chest. "You still wanna swing that gay thing at me?" Ruby teased.

"You don't swing in fencing," Weiss muttered. "But yes. I do."

[oliversrarebooks]

Prompt: Fitz using his vampire mind control powers for the first time and perhaps having PTSD flashbacks to Lily brainwashing him.

It really isn't Lily that Fitz has PTSD flashbacks to - at least not primarily. Which means that instead of Fitz's first time using his powers, I decided to write about a somewhat later time when Fitz's fears plagued him...

Masterlist

September 1910

TW: mind control, blood drinking, PTSD, self-loathing, mentions of blood

It was a bad night even before the puppets showed up.

In fact, it was destined to be a bad night ever since Fitz had happened to glance at the calendar and realize that it was the anniversary of the day he'd been taken from Lex. He immediately tried to push that sordid knowledge from his mind, knowing that it would result in nothing but a lot of pointless anxiety. 

The thin scars lining his hands itched and ached regardless.

And that was before he realized that the act booked to go on before him was a fucking puppet show of all things. As he waited in the wings, peeking out the curtain, he watched as the near-life-size wooden puppets twitched and danced. 

He tried not to feel the strings tightening around his own wrists and neck, forcing sore, tired limbs to move against his will. He tried to fight the urge for his own feet to twitch in uncontrollable rhythm. He tried not to hear the cruel whisper in his ear, pouring cold terror into his unresisting mind as his Master listed every trivial mistake.

One of the puppets was a ballerina, twirling in a graceful pirouette. Some of his fellow thralls had been ballerinas, too, delicate feet bleeding on the dance floor.

A sick dizziness washed over him. He felt detached from reality as he fought the urge to sink to his knees and grovel to his Master for a leniency that was rarely granted. The words were bubbling up in his rapidly tightening throat as he swayed and gripped a curtain to remain upright.

"Mr. Fitz?"

"Master," he murmured. "Master, please, I'm trying --"

"Mr. Fitz, hey. Are you okay, mate?"

The stage fell back into place around Fitz as he snapped out of the self-inflicted trance he'd been in. One of the stagehands, a scrawny boy of no more than nineteen, was pulling on his sleeve. "You look pale as the dead, mister," he said, with innocent concern. "Are you all right? You're going to need to go on in a few."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, mustering up a smile that he was sure looked ghastly. The show needed to go on, after all.

---

Fitz somehow managed to hold himself together for an entire act. From the audience's delighted reaction, they didn't suspect a thing wrong. They couldn't hear the whispered memories tugging at Fitz's mind every time his focus slipped an inch, and thank the devil for that.

He slouched in his dressing room chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He had no reason to be so irrationally frightened of a threat that was an ocean away and several years removed. This time, when he criticized himself, it was his own voice and not the Maestro's --

Pull it together. God, you're fucking useless. Getting turned didn't cure you of that, now did it?

There was a soft knock on the door. "Come in," said Fitz, putting his smile back on, happy to have any distraction from his own wretched thoughts.

A young man in a stylish blue suit slipped in the doorway. He had big, dark eyes, the kind you could lose yourself in, and a gentle smile. A handsome man, one of Fitz's favorite sorts of distraction.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Fitz," said the young man. "My name is Charlie, and I'm a big fan of magic. I really enjoyed your act this evening, and the stagehand told me I could come backstage to meet you."

Bless the innocent stagehand and his excellent instincts. Not only was the man handsome, but he also smelled like a treat. A bit of blood would do wonders for healing his addled mind. 

"Yes, of course. Excellent taste!" said Fitz with a grin and a wink. "Have a seat. I appreciate the company, especially from a fan like yourself."

Fitz turned his vampiric charm on a low hum, not enough to exert any real control, just enough to set the man at ease and draw him in. He'd been a natural at it right off the bat, as soon as he'd recovered from the turning and the injuries inflicted upon him. He could already see the relaxed smile spreading across Charlie's face, the way he leaned in closer to Fitz as he sat.

"Can I ask how you do any of your tricks, or do you never reveal your secrets?" Charlie asked. "Especially the one with the two chairs."

"Oh, it's a secret," said Fitz, leaning in closer himself. "I can give you a hint -- only one of the chairs has a real back to it."

"Oh yeah?" 

"Mmmhmm. What else did you like about my act? I'm always eager to hear some praise, you know."

"I liked the part with the fishtanks. It was very suspenseful. And the bit where you escaped the handcuffs..." Charlie's eyes were going a little glassy. Perfect.

Fitz reached in and touched the man's hair, meeting with no resistance. Such an easy mark. "Very good," he said, physical contact allowing him to weave his real power around the man's mind, soothing him and promoting feelings of blissful pleasure.

"Very good," Charlie agreed, slowly nodding, losing himself in it already.

Fitz's treacherous, anxious mind supplied him with a vision a backstage dressing room years ago, the one where Lily had mesmerized him and sealed his fate. How it had felt to be helpless against a vampire's power.

Annoyed, he pushed it aside. This wasn't like that. He was the vampire now and he was fully in control. He wasn't packing this man off to one of those nasty auction houses, he was just taking a little taste. Charlie clearly had plenty of blood he wouldn't miss.

"Tell me, Charlie," Fitz said with a wicked grin that he knew would make his fangs obvious. "If you're such a devoted fan, would you mind parting with a bit of your blood? Just enough for a little snack, nothing that will do you any harm."

There was only the briefest of resistance before Charlie's head bobbed in an eager nod. "Sure, Mr. Fitz, that'd be just... perfect..."

Perfect.

The word rang through Fitz's head.

I'm trying! I'm trying, Master, please, I'm trying!

If you were actually trying, it would be perfect.

The puppet string tightened around his neck, his old scars feeling like they were on fire.

"No," he whispered, pushing the stranger away and falling to the floor, his stool overturning. "No, no, please, Master, I can't do it any more, I can't -- "

The stranger blinked and looked down at Fitz in confusion. "Are you all right? There might be something in the air here, I was feeling so strange --"

"Go," said Fitz, pushing the stranger away with the same force he'd used to draw him closer. "Leave me!"

The stranger couldn't scramble out of the dressing room fast enough, leaving Fitz to curl up in a miserable, pathetic heap on the floor, cowering before a Master that only existed in his head. He could feel the dank chill of the Maestro's practice room, the scrapes on his knees as he groveled on the floor, the sharp cuts where the fine, cruel silver knife had marred his skin --

Feeling desperate and pitiful, there was only a brief argument in his mind before he relented and sought out Lex. His mind traversed the familiar connection between sire and sireling, the one Lex was so careful never to abuse. Fitz hated leaning on his old love to soothe his troubled mind, but on a really bad night like this --

The connection was always weak from the sireling's end, so all he could send was feelings and vague impressions. Puppets. Knives. Fear.

The response was immediate. Are you okay? What's happening? Didn't you have a show tonight?

Fitz swallowed and tried to convey that he was fine in the practical sense, just having terrible waking nightmares.

He was rewarded when his mind was flooded with a cool, soothing calm, washing away his fear and pain. His muscles unclenched. His shaking subsided. He was able to sit up, leaning against the wall, drinking in the comfort Lex was providing him from afar.

He hated to do it. After all, this situation was largely his fault, no matter how much Lex tried to convince him it wasn't. He should be the one comforting his love. But he was weak. Even as a vampire, he was so fucking weak.

Masterlist

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable

[captain-mj]

Muzzled Ghost prompt! Where Ghost gets caught and Soap immediately goes to find him. When he does he finds that Ghost has freed himself but still has a muzzle stuck to his face and well Soap might get a little too hot under the collar seeing his Lt angry, victorious, and annoyed about the muzzle but surely they don't need to get to the exfil right away do they?

Yes... Yes... I'm loving these asks

Soap was staring. He shouldn't be, but christ how can you blame him??

His Lt was a sight to see. Stripped down to his tactical pants, lines over his chest from where he was no doubt tightly tied down, but never secured. His blond hair spiked up and messy. He was clean, no blood or dirt on him which was shocking considering. Though, it seemed Soap had killed everyone coming in, meaning Ghost just had to free himself.

That was all... one thing. Already, Soap would be gagging for him. But now, there was the added fact that Ghost was collared and muzzled. They had used brown leather ones, obviously meant for a human with the way they curved around his jaw. The collar and muzzle had a string that kept him from moving his head properly.

"Johnny, thank fuck. It's locked. You have a lockpick right?" Ghost looked at him, pausing once they made eye contact. Soap realized he was drooling. "I know you like me shirtless but pull yourself together Sergeant." He crossed his arms over his chest like he was a blushing bride trying to protect himself from Soap's wandering eyes.

"I um... Yeah I..." Wait. He laughed awkwardly. "Actually... I don't have a lockpick... Mine broke at the beginning of this mission. Remember?"

"Jesus fucking Christ." Ghost tugged at the leather, making it press taut against his skin and Soap went weak in the fucking knees. "Help. Me." He hissed at him.

"You look so fucking good." Soap mumbled, accent thick as honey over his words.

Ghost went red, all the way down his chest. "You kinky bastard. Like seeing me in a fucking collar?"

"Collar is helping, but that's not my focus, Lt." He reached up, grabbed the muzzle and yanking him down. Without his boots, Simon was still tall, but he didn't tower over him quite as much.

"Bloody Hell." Ghost mumbled out. "I'm the one muzzled but you're the one acting like a fucking dog." He looked embarrassed. Fucking hell. His badass Lt, bashful..

Soap couldn't kiss him so he pulled him closer, starting to back him up.

"Eva-"

"Can't it wait just a minute, Simon? I think if we don't fuck, I'm going to die here." He pressed his hard cock to Ghost's legs, looking up at him desperately.

"Jesus Christ. Are you still open from before?"

"Yep! Shame I can't fuck you, but we can always get a muzzle for home."

Ghost shook his head but let Soap desperately undo Ghost's pants. He shoved him down, realizing he was probably sore and hurting from everything.

"I'll just take care of you right now okay?" Soap got on top of him.

Ghost shook his head and looked up at him. "Jo-"

"Put your hands behind your head and keep them there." Soap interrupted.

Ghost stared at him for a moment before slowly, achingly, complying. He crossed his wrists, pale skin all on display. Soap needed to appreciate this view more. Fucking hell.

"God you're gorgeous."

"Johnny." He bit it out like it was warning but he was clearly starting to enjoy himself. Soap took off his pants and settled more properly on Ghost's hips.

Ghost stayed eerily still, staring up at him. His pupils had dilated, taking up the majority of his iris. Soap swallowed thickly and wondered briefly how feral Ghost could get. Part of him wanted to push. See what he could make him do. Ghost had a knack for making Soap a pathetic needy mess, but with the way Ghost was staring into his soul like he'd devour it if his mouth wasn't covered, he wondered if that went both ways.

Soap spit on to his fingers before sliding them into himself. Ghost tensed but his hands stayed where they were supposed to. It would sting a little, but Soap hated having to wait through prep in the best of circumstances. He knew it was necessary, but Christ, he wanted the real thing.

So Soap quickly sank down on Ghost, panting softly at the feeling. "You're so big."

Ghost's hips jerked up into him and Soap quickly grabbed the collar. The tiny whimper that got from Ghost was going to be in every single one of Soap's wet dreams for the rest of his damn life.

"Don't move." Soap ground down on him and Ghost fluttered his eyelashes at him.

"Johnny. Please, we don't have time for you to tease me."

God Soap hated that he was right. He started moving faster, slowly moving up and down on him with a lazy grin. Fuck it felt like Ghost was tearing him apart, but he wouldn't let Ghost know that. "You so rarely give me control, sir. Forgive me for wanting to indulge." His thighs pressed against either side of Ghost's hips, clenching around him.

Ghost moaned. Soap almost drooled at the sweet sound. His mouth could be seen through the leather and he could see it was open. His soft tongue just barely visible. He was trying so hard to stay still.

"Good boy." Soap offered and Ghost groaned, head falling back. He started riding him much faster, with much more purpose. His hands reached down and grabbed the soft flesh of his pecs. Soap wanted to be greedy. Take his fill of this before the mask went on and Ghost went back to being his rough and tough Lt. He leaned down and bit his shoulder, feeling him almost shake with the desperate need to touch Soap.

Ghost looked at him, eyes hooded and desperate. Black greasepaint smearing down his face. "Fine."

"fine?" Soap echoed, a bit confused.

"I'll let you muzzle me and get fucking creative later just speed up." Ghost groaned.

Soap's brain went wild with ideas already but he couldn't deny him. He scratched down his chest as he bounced on him, twisting his hips slightly when he almost got to the base of his cock.

Ghost panted and moaned, making it hard for Soap to keep a rhythm when he sounded like that. His hips kept stuttering or thighs clenching.

"Come on, Simon. I got you." Soap ran his nails over and Ghost came inside him, going quiet as he did. He stroked himself to finish on Ghost's chest.

They silently got dressed afterward and eventually found Ghost's gear. He had his extra lockpick in and they quickly got Ghost out of the muzzle and collar. He pulled his mask back on.

Soap stashed the muzzle into one of his pockets. For later.

[thetriumphantpanda]

omg hi congrats on 1k!!!!! you are SUCH a fantastic writer and i absolutely devour everything you write!! that being said i have a request for your celebration: dave york w some thigh riding, doggy style, voice kink/dirty talk and free use 👀 (lmk if this is too many things at once lol) ur the best!!!

Hey! Thank you so much! And thank you so much for being one of those 1K and for always supporting me! Now, I have to tell you, that I love the Suburban Murder Daddy as much as the next person, but I wasn't expecting to produce such FILTH with him.... so I hope you enjoy! I couldn't work in free use here but someone else has requested Dave with this so I'll get around to it!

Pairing | Dave York x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.6k

Warnings | Explicit. 18+, Minors DNI. There's thigh-riding, doggy style, dirty talk/voice kink and because I can't be tamed, there's some infidelity kink in there for good measure.

Part of my 1k Smut Sensation Celebration - if you want in, check here for details - I’m accepting requests through July 15th.

Dave knew the first time it happened that he shouldn’t want you, just like he knows now, on the fifteenth time that he shouldn’t, but that’s always what keeps him coming back to you. Not the vows he made to his wife, not his children waiting for him at home, not the life that he built from the ground up, no, none of that could ever keep him away. Not when you saunter through the office with skirts that hug your curves in all the right places, or when you lean over his shoulder to place papers on his desk, letting your scent wrap around him like a noose. He wants you, he thinks he’ll always want you, because he shouldn’t.

He's stood outside your apartment building now, anticipation growing wildly in his lower belly as he thinks about what he wants to do to you tonight. He hears the buzzer and then the soft sound of the door unlatching once you buzz him in. The first time he’d opted to fuck you somewhere that wasn’t the office, he was shocked that this was where you lived. One of the more expensive buildings in the city, are we paying her too much? Is what he thought as you led him through the maze of corridors, much like he’s doing on his own right now. 

You’re already leaning against the doorframe when he makes it to your door. You can’t have been home very long, but you’ve already taken your hair out of the tight bun you insist on wearing to work and kicked off your heels. He presses his whole body to yours in the doorway and kisses you. It was rule he’d tried to set the first few times, if he didn’t kiss you, I didn’t mean anything outside of getting to fuck someone in the way his wife wouldn’t let him. He lasted approximately three and a half meets with you before he was breaking his own rule, latching his lips to yours as he fucked you in the shower. 

“Evening, boss man,” You purred when he finally pulled away from him, taking hold of his wrist to drag him inside, letting the door close behind you both, “Drink?” You call over your shoulder as he steps into your familiar space. 

It’s small, one bedroom affair, with the kitchen and living room wrapped into one. Its cosy and homely and not at all what Dave had expected from you. You were so clean-cut in the office, a picture of monochrome outfits, clean lines and high heels. The fluffy, pale blue rug and infinite clutter was not something he’d expected, but that he’d come to actually enjoy on his frequent visits. 

“I’m okay,” He replies, coming up behind you to circle his arms around your waist, “Only came here to see you.” 

His hands are already working the buttons of your shirt open. He never fails to amaze you with his dextrous fingers, how he can open buttons without even seeing them. He drags the material that’s tucked into your skirt free, before the material is thrown to the floor without a second thought. Dave knows he’s strong, and never tires of the way you chuckle when he picks you up, just like he is now, walking you toward the couch. 

He's settling himself down, legs spread, before he’s dragging you down onto one his thighs, your clothes core resting on his suit trousers, whilst your knees dig into the cushions of the couch either side. 

“Saw you watching me in the office today,” He states, letting one of his hands tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling it back so he can latch his lips to your neck, “Thinking about me fucking you, weren’t you?” 

“Always,” You groan, letting your hips move so your cotton-covered pussy is dragging against his thigh, “Always think about how you fuck me.” 

“If I put my hands on your cunt, you’d be soaked for me, wouldn’t you?” 

Another grind of your hips along his thigh, “Do it, find out.” You challenge him. 

The hand in your hair grips firmer now, “Going to have to work harder than that for it, darling,” His lips have trailed up your neck to rest at your ear now, “Think you can get yourself off like this?” He asks, “Grinding that needy pussy on my thigh?” 

He always drives a hard bargain with you, always makes you work for what you want. Whether that’s on your knees worshipping his cock, or making you touch yourself whilst he watches. This man is filthy and dangerous, and you can never get enough. You let your hands rest on his broad shoulders for purchase before you sink down as far as you can, grinding your aching sex back and forth on his solid thigh. You can’t deny that the friction is delightful, paired with the assault of his teeth and tongue over your neck and the hand fisting your hair, but it’s just not enough. It won’t ever be enough until he touches you, really touches you.

“Can’t…” You mumble, “Not enough.” 

“Awww, poor baby,” He coos, any other man spoke to you like this you’d be likely to slap him, but with Dave, it just works, “Do you want me to help?” The way his voice is so calm, still so commanding when you can literally see the effect you’re having on him through the bulge in his trousers, is mesmerising as always. 

“Please,” You beg, “Need your fingers.” 

He’s pushing the material of your skirt further up form where it’s ridden to your mid-thigh, bunching it at your waist before he’s pushing the cotton of your underwear to the side, plunging his fingers through your folds to gather your slick before he’s drawing it up to your clit. 

“Filthy girl,” He moans into your ear, “Knew you’d be fucking soaked for me already.” 

You can’t speak, not now that you have his hot breath in your ear and his thumb on your clit. This man knows what he’s doing, you suppose it’s the reason he’s got three children. If you were married to him, you’d certainly never let him leave your bed. It must be his military background that means he takes you apart with precision. He’s hyper focused on you, and the tight circles on your clit have you crying out his name and clenching his thigh between yours as you come undone for him. 

“Hands and knees.” He’s demanding of you, giving you barely any time to recover from your orgasm. 

When you don’t immediately follow his instructions, he’s moving you himself. Your hands and knees planed on the cushions of the couch; underwear ripped down as far as your knees. You can hear him undoing his belt and the sound of his zipper, then a little shuffling as he pulls his own clothes off just enough to free his cock. 

Then, he’s pressing up behind you, cock slipping through your soaked folds as he positions himself properly. Then, he’s buried inside you in one single thrust. He never waits for you, never gives you that chance to properly get used to the size of him inside you, he knows you’ll always take it, so he’s already setting that bruising pace with you. His cock is brushing that sweet spot inside you that makes you sing, and the grunts and groans he lets out as your tight walls flutter around him are music to your ears. 

“Always so fucking tight for me baby,” He growls from behind you, voice barely audible above the obscene sound of his skin slapping against your own, “The best pussy I ever fucking had.” 

“God, I fucking love when you talk like that.” You moan, starting to shift back into his thrusts to meet him halfway. 

“Yeah?” He asks, folding himself over you so his front is pressed to your back, “Like it when I talk dirty to you?” 

You groan out as his left hand comes to rest on the arm of the couch, wedding band clearly glinting in the light of the room, you catch yourself looking at it and Dave, being ever observant, catches you. He’s still pounding his cock into you when his hand comes back to fist your hair, pulling your neck backwards. It arches your back and changes the angle of his cock inside you, hitting that spot on each thrust, all you can do is whine. 

“You like looking at it?” He growls above you, flexing his fingers so you know exactly what he’s talking about “Like being my dirty little mistress?” 

“I fucking love it,” You sob out from your lips, “Fuck, Dave, I’m gonna…” 

“Go on, come on my cock baby.” 

You do just that. Spots of white burst in your vision as you convulse, the walls of your tight heat clenching around him. He lets go of your hair, letting your head drop forward as his hips continue snapping into your ass with bruising force. The hand that isn’t propping him up so he can plough into you is gripping at your hip, squeezing your skin to the point of pain, but it’s all worth it when you feel him steady himself, with that final moan of your name he always lets out, his warm cum painting the walls of your cunt. 

He always waits for the guilt to build once he’s finished. Always waits for his gut to tell him he’s a piece of shit for fucking his office assistant, but he already knows. He’s been a piece of shit for a long time, he’s just adding this to the list of things that got him there. There is no guilt, only a kiss and a promise to see you again soon. 

[nothinggoodhappensstories]

Her Lovely Corpse

════════════════════════════════════════════════════ Hard CW: This story contains descriptions and depictions of gore, violence, bodily harm and murder. ════════════════════════════════════════════════════ Prompt: "Oh my god! It's been a while since I saw you. How are you?" "... How are you here?" "What do you mean?" "You're... Dead." "What?" "YOU'RE DEAD! FOR YEARS!" ════════════════════════════════════════════════════ Word count: 1942 ════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Oh my god! It’s been a while since I saw you. How are you?” She sat in her usual seat at my kitchen table. She absently stirred the air in her tea cup. “...How are you here?” I squeezed the arm rests of my chair. She cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?” A clink of porcelain followed her question, as her spoon scraped the edges of the cup. My gaze drifted to the memorial photos on the fridge, that I held onto since the accident. “You’re… dead.” She drew a long breath.

“What?”

“You’re dead! For years! Y-you’ve been dead…” I sputtered out.

My mind was spiralling. Her smile began to break. She threw the spoon across the kitchen, shattering a shelf full of glasses. I was startled and gripped my chair tighter. She raised the tea cup to her crooked mouth and continued her discomforting pleasantries. “How are you?” She repeated. “I thought you would have moved houses by now. Lucky for me, you never actually skipped town, after all.” She sipped on nothing. Her lips were cracked and pale. Her hands were barely able to hold onto the empty cup and its matching saucer. I was still processing her arrival at my door a few moments ago. I hadn’t had the time to observe her dishevelled state while she barged in. I hadn’t questioned anything until now.

She noticed my eyes lingering on her hands. “Hey! My eyes are up here!” She made a sound that I could only assume was meant to be a giggle. “You’ve always been such a player, haven’t you?” Her face was the last thing I wanted to look at. My eyes travelled to her wrists and down her forearms. It was hard to see at this angle, but I knew they would be covered in old, small scars. The vertical ones escaped my memory for a fleeting moment, until she rested her arms on the table. “I said,” She slammed the porcelain, shattering the saucer. Flecks sprayed across to me, littering the table cloth in a fragile, sharp snow. “My eyes. Are up. Here…” Suddenly she was leaning across the table, guiding my face by my chin with the tips of her fingers. She held my line of sight until I finally looked at her eyes.

They were like dark tar pits. Lifeless, sucking anything living into them. Her clammy, cold hand lingered on my face. I swatted it out of the way. My careless action filled her face with obvious disgust. She huffed. “Fine. I should have expected that,” She pouted and slumped back into her seat. “After all this time, why did I think you would still care about me?” My heart was pounding. I couldn’t get the phantom sensation of her touch off of me. My mind was racing. The thought of her hands all over me, a hot memory resurfacing from the past; replaced with her current appearance. I began dry heaving, barely making it to the sink as I vomited down the drain. “Oh, come on! Am I really that disgusting to you? You used to love when I caressed you like that-”

“What do you want from me?” I screamed.

“To know how you’re going.” She put it simply.

“Bullshit! This is fucking bullshit.”

“I wanted to see how you were holding up.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

She had turned her seat around to face me at the sink. She cocked her head to the side. Sticky wet hair fell over her ghastly features. “I wanted to see how the guilt has been eating at you. I wanted to see how chewed up you were.” She peered up at the photos on the fridge. “It’s clear you still care, in some capacity.” She leaned over and plucked off the memorial card. Her eyes scanned the heart felt message and invitation. She traced her own face with a blue finger. “Or maybe it is just guilt.” She flicked the card to the ground.

Another wave of sickness washed over me, leading to another burst of stomach acid. She cackled again. She rose from her spot. I heard her bare feet slap against the tiles. She ran her hand down my back and through my hair. I lurched under her touch and scrambled away, slipping on the kitchen mat. She leered down at me. “Poor thing. I should stop playing with you. Although,” She loomed over my body, feigning a look of deep thought. “You haven’t told me to stop yet.”

“P-please…” I could barely clear my throat to speak.

Her murky brown hair dangled over my face. Chipped teeth flashed a horrifying grin. She threw herself onto me, digging her knees into my chest. She wrapped her hands around my throat. I panicked under her unexpected strength. “The way I remember it, I also started my pleas like that.” She mocked me. “P-please! S-stop ch-ch-choking me!” her finger clawed into my neck with each stutter. “I don’t know if you remember the next part.” She lifted my head and slammed it into the tile. My ears were ringing. My vision was blurring. She forced my head to her face. I was clawing at her arms, sputtering for her to let me go. “Ah, it seems you didn’t forget this next part. I held my arms out like that too.” My heart pounded louder and faster in my head. She reached behind herself and retrieved something. I heard it flick out and snap back. She brought it to my face, the edge of the blade barely visible to me. “I bought it for you, on your twenty-fifth birthday. I gave it to you, hoping you’d use it when we would go camping.” It disappeared from my vision. Sharp pain ran down my forearms, I was still clutching onto her hands and my neck. “You just couldn’t make it easy for me to escape, huh?” She reeled back and stared down at me. I sucked in air and gasped and coughed. She tossed the pocket knife aside and dismounted me. I rolled onto my side, still gasping. My arms were a mess. I couldn’t move them. I could feel a pool of warmth starting to form under me. I was starting to black out. I could feel the heat escaping my body.

I heard something wooden being dragged in front of me. I tried to keep my eyes open, but they started to feel impossibly heavy. Chair legs appeared in front of me. She sat down. Time felt like it was dragging on. At this point, I couldn’t think about anything else. All I could think about was her. About her ‘accident’. About what I did to her. My girlfriend. On some kind of untimed cue, she shifted in her seat and started talking again. “Now, at this point, I technically shouldn’t know how you got rid of me.” She spoke so nonchalantly. I was grovelling on the ground, trying to pull myself towards her. I threw over a limp arm, to which she swatted away with a kick. “H-help… me…” She nodded in agreement. “I figured those might have somewhat been my last words.” She revelled in my death rattle. “I also figured that after you mangled me, you didn’t really have a plan for my disposal. I recall joking with you a few times, when we listened to those podcasts we liked. The Perfect Murder by Sam… ugh, whatever his name is,” 

She tucked her legs under herself and readjusted her posture. “We joked about how we would hide each other’s bodies. I thought we were joking. The only joke that survived all of this was your intelligence. To think you actually succeeded with covering this up.”

While she monolodged, I used my legs to push against the ground; inching my way towards the back door. The security screen was left unlocked, the latch was broken. All it would take is for me to swivel around and kick it open. I could roll down the stairs and start screaming for help. In my mind it felt like I had made it halfway across the kitchen floor. She noticed my sad attempt, calmly left the chair and moved behind me. She plunged my pocket knife into my shin. I gargled out a howl of pain. Tears finally streamed down my face, mixing with snot, blood and sweat. She sighed. “And with most things, you can barely finish what you started.” She laid down beside me, inches away from my face. She snuggled into a comfortable position while I groaned into the ground.

“You dragged me into the hallway, rolled me up in that nice rug your aunt gifted us; and tossed my body into the back of your Civic. I was dead by then, but my body remembers the ride. I can feel each hurried turn. Each increase in speed on the highway. Desperate to avoid other cars, you took the old freeway. The one with the pot holes we always complained about.” She stroked my hair out of my eyes. Everything was starting to fade. She was sounding more distance with each breath I struggled on. “Suddenly the car came to a halt. I know in my gut where you had taken me. It’s sad, really. I always liked that river spot. You had to go and taint that place with your fuck up.” I could barely make out her face now. I think I saw tears running down her face.

All the details she was recounting were stirring up my repressed memories. I can still hear the sirens whizzing past our house, all the way out to that campsite. I remember hearing the squad car pulling into the driveway. I had just finished bleaching the tiles when they knocked on the door. I can still feel the metal table in the interrogation room at the station. I was their first and main suspect. They ruled me out immediately. My tears then must’ve seemed real to them. More poured out of me when they lowered her casket into the ground. My back received a million pats and condolence hugs at the wake. Her parents stopped calling. They had no need to tolerate me anymore. I always suspected they figured I was to blame, but they never pursued. I sometimes wish that they had. I packed up her things and locked them in the basement. The only scrap of her left was the memorial card, tucked under shopping lists and overdue bills.

She watched the last three years flash before my eyes. She closed hers and sighed again, guessing exactly what I was thinking about. She peeled herself off the floor and sat up. “Was it worth it? Killing me?” My breathing was slowing, trembling with each inhale. “You were the one cheating. Why did I confront you then? Why not in the act instead, when you were sober…” She trailed off. I squinted at her silhouette, trying to keep the world in view. “I guess this is where it was heading anyway. One of us was bound to end up in a body bag. I wish it wasn’t the both of us.” Her voice was too far for me to hear now. A metallic tang in my mouth overwhelmed me. She could tell I was leaving my body.

She leaned down and kissed my head. “I’m sorry things had to end this way, baby.” She stepped over my body, leaving through the door she barged in from. I watched her walk off into the night, as I succumbed to the consequences of my actions.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════ Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. ════════════════════════════════════════════════════

[iamvegorott]

Meeting A Magical Man Pt. 41

Part 1: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

“Remember, any magic you think you’re going to do, move your hands,” Marvin whispered to Mad as he, Mad, and Mare stood outside Dark’s door. 

“Hands. Got it.” Mad repeated with a head nod. 

“The first day is tough, but it’s not magical-based.” 

“He’s a magic user’s apprentice. Why wouldn’t it be magic-based?” Mare asked. 

“Dark focuses on more than just magic. The physical body is just as important, so he’s going to want to know what all you can do and what all you can take.” Marvin explained. “He’s going to push you. His goal is to make you cry. Do not break.” 

“Okay.” Mad shrunk in on himself a bit. 

“You got this.” Marvin patted both of Mad’s arms before opening the door. Mare gave Mad a reassuring smile as they followed him into the office. 

“Hello, newbie!” Anti popped up between Mad and Mare, separating them. “Welcome to the club, I’m Anti.” He had a grin Marvin knew all too well and had to resist the urge to yank Anti away. 

“I’m Maddrick?” Mad looked to Mare and then made a little sound of protest at suddenly being guided away by Anti. 

“So, are you and your plus one a thing?” Anti asked with a little purr in his voice. 

“A thing?”

“You know, dating, fucking, something like that?” 

“We’re no-not-nope-just-uh-just friends.” Mad looked like he was going to explode on the spot. 

“So you don’t mind if I play with him?” 

“Like…have sex with him?”

“Yeah.”

“But aren’t you and Dark, as you had put it, a thing?” 

“Hah!” Marvin laughed loudly. 

“The fuck you talking about?” Anti huffed, moving away from Mad. 

“I mean, you and Dark had a lot of feelings of affection for each other and-” Mad stopped when he saw Mare zipping his lips behind Anti. 

“For your information, me and Dark fuck, that’s it. Just like I’m going to fuck this one here.” Anti gestured a thumb at Mare.

“No, thank you, not my type,” Mare stated flatly, crossing his arms. 

“What is your type?” Anti huffed when all he got was a blank stare from Mare. “New people are supposed to be fun.” He snapped his fingers, and in a blink, they were all in a different room.

Marvin felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, knowing where they were and what work got done here. Seeing all of the exercise equipment and machines with endless wires and monitors had him remembering every harsh day of training. He prayed to whoever would listen that Mad would be okay. 

“I wasn’t expecting a whole audience for Madrick,” Dark commented. 

“Mare’s his guard, and I’m here to make sure Mad’s fine,” Marvin said. 

“Fine. Go aside and don’t interfere.” Dark gestured with his head while Wilford prepped one of the weight-based machines. “Anti, sit with them and keep an eye on them.” 

“Sir, yes, sir.” Anti gave a mock salute and guided Marvin and Marvin to one of the benches that lined the walls. 

“So he’s going to work out for them?” Mare asked, watching Mad get straps wrapped around both wrists and ankles. 

“Kind of.” Marvin leaned back against the wall, foot bouncing anxiously. “It’ll look like that to us, but there’s a lot more happening internally. They’re reading everything about his body.” 

“We’ll know him more than even himself.” Anti giggled. “Here’s hoping he survives.” He added with an evil glint in his eyes. 

“They could-” Mare tried to get up, but Marvin and Anti pulled him back down. 

“Stay down like a good boy~” Anti giggled.

“He has to do this on his own,” Marvin added, face still pale. 

“Fuck.” Mare cursed to himself and could now only watch as the testing began. 

They watched as Mad lifted weights, ran, lifted more weights, and ran again. He jumped, climbed, and crawled across the floor. It was a whole circus act, and the more it went, the slower Mad moved. His face was red, his body matching the color with the number of times he’d accidentally smacked himself with the equipment or by his own limbs. Those red marks were likely to become bruises if not healed by magic later. Mad’s breathing was getting heavy and wheezing, and he started coughing harshly between rounds. 

“We’re running again,” Dark spoke over Mad’s coughs. 

“I-I need-” Mad didn’t get to voice his protest before he got basically dragged to the treadmill. He barely had time to stand on the machine before it was turned on. It was slow for only a few steps before Mad was jogging and then sprinting. His breathing echoed in the room, hands grasping the arms of the treadmill till his knuckles were white. His steps were messy, uneven, and not going in a straight line.  

“He’s going to fall.” Mare said. “He’s-let me go!” He snapped when Anti pulled him back down. “He’s going to get hurt! He-” His voice stopped at the sound of Mad’s body hitting the belt of the treadmill, face bashing into it, and body getting sent flying away. “Mad!” 

“That looked bad.” Anti held out of the last word. 

“Fucking hell.” Marvin got up and followed Mare over to Mad. 

“Mad, Mad, I’m right here.” Mare went down to his knees and helped Mad sit up a bit. Mad couldn’t speak, breathing gargled by the blood gushing out of his nose and dripping down his throat. He stared at the blood on his hand, face going green before he vomited, adding to the mess on the ground. 

“We’re done for the day,” Dark stated, unaffected by Mad’s situation. “I’ll text when it’s time for your next practice.” He turned and walked off, snapping his fingers and sending himself and Anti away. 

“Here, I can help a little.” Wilford waved his hand, cleaning the mess off the floor, and Mad. “And a little…” He waved his hand and fixed the cartilage in Mad’s nose, but it still looked like it could bruise. “Best I can do, not much of a healer like Dark. Some ice should help with the soreness. Water down your throat for the taste. It’ll be a while till he calls you up again. I’ll make sure of it.” Wilford winked and snapped his fingers, sending himself away as well. 

“I don’t…I don’t wanna be here anymore.” Mad said with a sniff. “Please.” 

“I got us,” Marvin said and sent them back to his living room with a flick of his hand. He went to the kitchen, grabbed some ice, wrapped it in a towel, and returned to the room. “Here. For his nose.” 

“Thank you.” Mare took the towel. “I got him.” He added, and Marvin just awkwardly nodded and stepped away again. He didn’t fully leave, taking the same place he had been before the text, watching the two. It was part wanting to know what they were going to do and part ensuring they were fine. 

“It’s okay. I got you.” Mare gently pressed the towel to Mad’s nose, getting a little whimper of pain. “I know, just for a minute. We’ll see if maybe Phantom knows how to help with this. Wilford did most of the work. Phantom should be able to finish it. You usually take care of your arms and legs without realizing it.” He stopped and lowered the towel. “Mad.”

“I’m not going to cry.” Mad’s voice was hoarse. 

“You can. That was a nightmare you went through.” 

“Marvin said I can’t break.” 

“It’s just us, he said to not break in front of Dark. You’re allowed to be overwhelmed and tired and just get it all out.” 

“But…” 

“Mad. It’s me. I’ll take care of you, I promise.” Mare placed a hand on Mad’s shoulder.

“I…” Mad broke down, leaning into Mare and hugging him as he cried, body shaking with his sobs, and he clung to Mare like it was all he knew how to do.

“I got you. I got you.” Mare whispered as he hugged Mad back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Marvin turned away and went for his bedroom, opening the door and seeing Chase lying stomach down on the bed with his Switch in hand. 

“How’d it…it didn’t go well, did it?” Chase asked, seeing Marvin’s face. 

“It’s only day one,” Marvin said as he closed the door. “He…He’s not going to be able to do it, Chase. He won’t make it with how Dark is.” 

“I thought Dark was supposed to be better than Actor.” Chase reached out and guided Marvin to sit on the bed with him. 

“I thought so, too. But I don’t think either of them can work with Mad. I thought since I saw some of that sass and snark in Mad, he’d be like me and would manage to get good mentoring from Dark, even if he hates the fucker, but…but he’s not.” Marvin leaned against Chase. 

“What do you think we should do.”

“I don’t know, Chase. I don’t know.” 

“We’ll figure it out.” Chase hugged Marvin and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “We’ve been flying by the seats of our pants this whole time. We got this.” 

“I love your optimism.” Marvin softly giggled. 

“It’s yet to fail me.” Chase chuckled. “Want to put on a movie and cuddle?” 

“That’s sounds lovely.” 

----------

Tags: @brokentimewatch @bookwormscififan @d-structive @rainymae523 @ashtonisvibing

[pancakehouse]

ok! i need to see 16 please! give me GUN

(send me a siken line and i'll write a mini fic inspired by it)

hi i LOVE u and you're my hero and a goddess and here is a gun just for you annie emmeline!!!!!

16. someone’s pulling a gun and you’re jumping in the middle of it. 

A voice drags Remus into consciousness. A shouting voice, to be specific; one that manages to cut through a strong dose of healing potions and the heavy sleep of a boy who’s just finished nearly clawing himself to death. 

It’s impressively loud, really, and if Remus currently had any control over miraculous things like moving his mouth or speaking, then he’d definitely be telling the posh prick to kindly shut the fuck up right about now. As it is, he can’t do much more than lie there and listen.

“I’m not fucking doing this every month, James,” the voice is saying. Shouting. “He- he’s just - do you know how this fucking feels? To have to stand by, and watch the person you… fuck, I mean look at him! What if- what if he-” 

The voice chokes off, and Remus frowns (or tries to). Something rattles painfully in his ribcage, right near the spot where bones are trying to mend themselves back together, where purple spreads across tender flesh. Where this voice, Sirius’ voice, hoarse and rough and cracked-open, tucks itself right into the mix. 

It takes herculean effort, but Remus manages to force his eyes half-open, right as Peter’s voice sounds from somewhere to his left. “Maybe we shouldn’t, erm-” he’s saying, shaky and nervous.“D’you guys think when we, you know, change…what if he…” 

The room goes quiet, and Remus’ stomach drops. Not because he fully understands what Peter’s talking about, but because he can feel it when Sirius tenses, even from across the room.

“What?” demands Sirius. His jaw is clenched, eyes blazing like he’s a sparked fuse ready to blast the whole castle down around them and delight in the wreckage. “What the fuck does that mean, you useless, spineless little-” 

“Okay, that’s enough!” James cuts in. Bravely (stupidly), he puts a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. If it were anyone else, they might’ve walked away with a torn-out bite of flesh, but as it is, Sirius only sighs, and shakes him off in a manner that’s not-quite-gentle. “Sirius, none of this is Peter’s fault. I know you’re scared, and we’re all tired, but you yelling isn’t helping Moony. And Pete…just, well- the point is that we are going to help him, alright? We’ll be there, and this won’t ever happen again, okay?”

Grey light streams through the curtains, and Remus wonders idly what time it is - what day it is. And he wonders what kind of person it makes him that he’s almost grateful for this, the ache in his body. For the moon and the bandages and the new scars and old. 

Because those are all things he has, and this is also a thing he has: Sirius, here, cheeks damp and shoulders trembling, here, for him. 

And he has James, pacing the floor. And Peter, twitching in the chair by his side. And Sirius, who’s so painfully beautiful even with dark circles and a rumpled shirt, turning to glare at Peter every few seconds, like he’s daring him to move even an inch closer, like he won’t be so forgiving as he was with James. 

Secretly - on days when his joints aren’t so bruised and the moon isn’t an echo rattling his skull - that look sends a spark through Remus. It’s something like his lazy smirk before mouthing off in class, or the easy flick of a smooth, pale wrist before his duelling partner is sent flying across the room. 

It’s like a warning, maybe, written in stocky bold letters: Get out now, before it’s too late. 

But it’s already too late for Remus. Has been for ages - going on years now. And he still remembers the exact moment he realised it: 

Third year, a Hogsmeade weekend, and a cushy buffer of two weeks on either side of the moon. They were all packed inside the Three Broomsticks, crammed in a sticky booth, sipping butterbeers, and cheering over the luck of a free day off. 

Remus remembers Sirius sitting across from him. He remembers watching Anya Patil and her pretty green eyes press her thigh into his, and the way she leaned in too close whenever Sirius spoke, laughed too loud when he made a joke. The way her hand trailed up his shoulder, in a way she undoubtedly meant to appear subtle. 

He remembers Sirius’ knee knocking against his own under the table. The sharp, swooping feeling that went through his stomach. He met Sirius’ gaze across the table, and they’d looked at each other for a long, silent moment. The sounds of the bar, their friends, it all dulled to nothing. 

There was something coiled and tense in Remus’ ribs, then. In the same spot Sirius has always held, from that moment on. Remus thought love was supposed to be slow and gradual - like in the sappy romance novels Lily’s always giving him. A soft fall, like into a riverbed or a pile of grass.

But this was Sirius Black. Everything from his cheekbones to his grin to his words were sharp like a knife. So it stands, Remus supposes, that loving him would be like a gut punch to the stomach. A reducto to the chest. It was someone pulling out a gun, and Remus thinking - Well, what’s one more shot to the ribs? For him? Alright, go on then. 

“I have to go,” Sirius had said then. He jumped up from the booth, Anya’s hand sliding awkwardly off his shoulder, and Remus’ stomach had sunk to the floor. 

This was worse than a moon; he’d take the broken bones and bruises and clawed-open flesh any day over losing Sirius’ friendship. He almost took it back, then, and said: Wait, I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter. I promise. It’s nothing - I’m nothing, we can just - 

But then: “We have to go,” Sirius amended. And then he’d grabbed Remus’ arm, yanked him up, and dragged him all the way out the door. Pushed him up against a cold brick wall, and kissed him with pillow soft lips and warm fingers that slipped under his jumper, curved into his side; right into the weak, tender spots between brittle bones and aching lungs and every ounce of reckless want Remus would allow himself to have. 

More than he should, probably. But then Sirius looks over at him now, and when he sees he's awake his face shifts from the glare he reserves for Peter, and the fear he reserves for James, and softens into something he maybe reserves for Remus alone. And when he grins, razor-sharp, it really doesn’t feel dangerous at all.

[amostdelectablescribbler]

day 3 of nanowrimo:

worker on: beast of burden

words written: ~1000

Time spent: 2-ish hours

What was written, with an extra line or so of context:

warning: this gets pretty nsfw pretty quickly. If you are not here for it, carry on. There’s more family-friendly stuff further down my blog. Go find that.

[you have been warned]

Spectre sank through the foot of Kez’s bed, falling from the ceiling next to the pot, and let drop the cut veggies into the pot, bubbling gently over a fire which turned Spectre from white to gold temporarily, as he fell back into his shadow and landed on Kez’s bed again, making a mess of it and launching her saxophone into the air and back down into his hands

“WATCH MY SAX,” Kez yelled, cursing Spectre under her breath.

“Sorry, Kez. But this gives me an idea to cheer up the kid. I’ll get the guitar and a something to smoke, you guys bring the sax and some camping kit, Maia…”

“Yeah?”

“…try not to get your back or your voice ruined in the next day and a bit.”

“Mmm, hard bargain… might need an incentive…”

“Oh you fucking day-hooker-”

“-I am not a day-hooker. Jesus, you think that low of me? Fine, I’ll stay clean for a bit, but you’d better bring some strong stuff, clear?”

“Is Causite-fertilised kush strong enough?”

“I didn’t mean it as a challenge, but hell yeah!” 

Spectre sank through the bed again, emerging from the roof of Red’s apartment to find it dimly lit and desolate, Red sat idle in his hammock, watching the view from his balcony.

“The lion’s share flat, and you spend it in your hammock?”

“Yup. Got nothing else to do.” Red groaned, rolling over to face Spectre, looking thoroughly bored.

“Gods, you look awful. Anyways, you do now! We’re going camping for a night, out in the forest, up a hill, wherever. We’re gonna do a bunch of walking and a campfire and singing around the campfire eating  marshmallows and smoke colossal doobs and fun stuff.” Spectre’s enthusiasm was palpable, in stark contrast to his more common sarcasm and reactive snark.

Red perked up a bit, Spectre’s infectious energy soaking into him, “Alright, you had me at camping, but I need my lungs healthy, so i’m staying off the drugs, thanks.”

“Fine by me.” Spectre shrugged, taking Red’s wrist, picking him up like a wet rag and tossing him through his shadow, following suit with flair. They were spat out in Kez’s flat in the wardrobe, thoroughly confusing Red and raising a groan from Spectre.

“Why’d you put us in the wardrobe?”

“It wasn’t up to me. There’s a certain amount of darkness there needs to be for me to pass through, the light keeps in solid, and if i try to go through a bright area, it autopilot’s me to the nearest dark enough place.” Spectre elbowed the door open with conviction.

“Can’t you make your own dark and shadow and stuff?”

Spectre chuckled to himself, “Ah, that’s a different trick entirely. They work well together, but it’s massive overkill in here, and I don’t want to get Kez by accident.”

Maia, now composed, snarked, “What about me?”

“Don’t mind if you get chomped too much, which reminds me,” Spectre’s hand closed as if he were holding a pen, shadows converging to fill the shape, “Come with, for a minute. I have a new trick for you.”

“What is that?” Maia sat up.

“You’ll see.” The shadow pen was spun around.

“What’s it do?” She paled.

“Wanna find out?”

“Yes, but from a distance.” Maia curled up, her knees to her chest.

“Tough, but you’ll thank me later.”

“I trust that like I trust a 4-inch to do the job.”

“When have I ever actually crossed you? I’ve insulted you a lot, but when have I ever done anything to hurt you?”

Maia conceded, following Spectre into the bathroom, her voice echoing through the walls,

“Woah, okay, where’d my clothes go? Hey, Spectre? What are you doing with that? Hey, woah, nonono that is definitely sharp.”

“It’s a tattoo pen. Of course it’s sharp.” 

“Oh. Oh, you should’ve said so, if it’s just a tattoo- why do you want to give me a tattoo? Why am I naked? Where are you about to try give me a tattoo? Hey, woah, oh- oh thank the gods I thought you were about to-” Maia was cut off mid-sentence with a moan as Spectre finished his work. 

“You can have your clothes back now.” Spectre flourished his hand and the pen disappeared, returning Maia’s onesie as it went.

Still somewhat confused about the just-transpired events, Maia sat up, criss-cross-applesauce, on her bed, “What does that li’l symbol you carved into me even do? Didn’t even hurt like a tattoo would.” Kez took her apron off, lean muscle rippling beneath a baggy t-shirt, sweating sarcasm, “Two things. 1: You’ve never had a tattoo, how would you know? 2: what is the symbol?”

“Nifty little rune I read about, wished I didn’t know, and then memorised for her birthday at some point and wisely decided against it.” Spectre gestured to the model upon which he enacted his handiwork, “See for yourself.”

Etched in a hot magenta, an inch or so above her  pelvis was tattooed the following: (i drew that myself on procreate with the power of graffiti-style exponential extravagant-ification)

The sigil glowed faintly, pairing itself to a matching sigil on the first knuckle of Spectre’s thumb.

“So, you gonna show me-?” Maia was cut of by the sigil’s activation, which sent the nearby nerves into overdrive, reporting back indescribable pleasure. She’d doubled over, curled up and twitching slightly.

“Yup, works as intended.” Spectre removed his hand from his control sigil on his thumb, letting the pressure off slowly. Kez rolled her eyes, 

“And what is that supposed to do, besides slow her down more?”

“I can also use it in reverse, to shut down nerves in the area, so instead of an orgasm button, it can be an orgasm blocker, too.”

Maia dragged herself back up, still recovering and digging her nails into her sheets,

You bastard. You wouldn’t-” Maia folded again, shaking and spasming, her nervous system overloading itself, unable to even make a noise.

“Gimme that.” Kez snatched Spectre’s hand from him, pressing hard on the sigil connected to Maia, sending her screaming, spasming—and probably meriting a change of pants—to heaven and back.

[zablife]

His Angel (Part 3)

Jack Nelson x innocent reader

Summary: Jack meets his future wife in 1920 before he takes power in Boston. Never willing to listen to anything negative about your man, you live a sheltered life, which is exactly the way Jack likes it.

Author's Note: It's been a month since I updated this series so I hope readers remember this one! Not to be confused with the Jack Nelson x Shelby sister OC series called Little Harlot.

Warnings: S6 spoilers maybe?, language,  age difference, childbirth, mention of past abuse, drinking, spousal abuse, pregnancy

Part 1, Part 2

You clawed at the hand above your head, trying desperately to remove the small dome above your nose and mouth. You couldn’t tell if you were making contact though, your movements sloppy and uncoordinated. A strong hand grabbed you by the wrists and held you down. Panicking at the forceful reaction, you shook your head violently, dislodging the device. You breathed fresh, cool air again, a welcome change to the stifling sweet scent that had permeated your nostrils moments before. You called out in a weak voice, “Why are you doing this to me? I don’t know anything. Please don’t hurt my baby.” Your cheeks felt hot and you realized you were crying, your mind and body oddly separated. The room was spinning and you tried to raise your head, but felt yourself pulled back toward the hard surface where you were lying. 

“Doctor, I’m afraid she’s not cooperating,” a voice echoed from behind you. “Call in another nurse and give her another dose. She’ll deliver soon,” a man’s voice replied. You heard feet shuffling past you and then a kinder female voice explain, “Let go dear, it will be much better for you if you don’t remember this.” The suffocating feeling returned as you felt your airways covered once more. “Deep breaths…” was the last thing you heard in your fog before the room went black.

—————————————————————————

Jack paced the hospital waiting room, chain smoking one cigarette after another. He would enjoy a cigar and whiskey as soon as he had seen you and the baby. For now, he couldn’t keep still. The hospital was eerily quiet and he hadn’t seen the nurse who promised to update him on your condition. He counted the tiles as he paced to distract himself, looking up with a jerk when a nurse called out, “Mr. Nelson, you have a son.”  She turned on her heel to walk away, but Jack caught up to her calling out in a worried tone, “Wait, what about my wife? Can I see her now?” 

“No, I’m afraid not, sir. Your wife had a small complication during delivery. She’s resting,” the nurse said with a tight smile. “You can see your son in the nursery window upstairs, third floor,” she explained in a business like tone. Ignoring her advice, Jack said “What the fuck do you mean complication? No one told me. You people promised to tell me what was going on. I want to see my wife right fucking now.” He was agitated, pointing a finger at her.

“Sir, you need to control your language or you’ll be escorted off hospital premises,” the nurse warned him. She was used to dealing with anxious fathers, but he was crossing the line. Grabbing her forearm tightly, Jack leaned in and threatened, “Take me to my goddamn wife before I go down that hallway and bust down every door.” The nurses’s eyes grew wide with fear and she stammered, “Sh-sh-she’s in room 115…please, you’re hurting my arm, sir.”

“Was that so difficult?” Jack asked spitefully , tossing her arm away. Polished shoes squeaking on the linoleum, he hurried down the hallway looking for your room. 

When he entered, Jack was concerned to see you laid back on the pillows pale and unmoving. He walked toward you cautiously and ran a hand over your hair. You woke and tried to take a look around, but you still felt dizzy from the ether. “Jack, it’s a boy,” you said with a weak smile. You hoped he would be pleased, but his enormous smile and the tears in his eyes were proof that he was euphoric. “I know, doll, the nurses told me and I couldn’t be happier,” he said giving your hand a squeeze. “Have you seen him?” you asked hopefully. “No, I had to see my beautiful wife first. You alright, angel?” You nodded and smiled, already looking forward to the time you could go home and start life as a family of three.

——————————————————————-

A week later, you were well enough to take the baby home and some familiar faces greeted you at your front door. To your delight, your mother and sisters were there to welcome you with a delicious meal. Jack seemed pleased to have everyone cooing over his newborn son. The reunion was going well until you heard a loud knock at the door. You imagined it was a neighbor coming to congratulate you. Upon opening the door you found something even more surprising, your brother, Patrick. “Hello, y/n. I know it’s been awhile, but I heard about the baby and I wanted to come see how you were….and maybe meet my nephew?” he asked hesitantly. It had been so long since you spoke in person, you had forgotten all the anger and hurt your argument stirred before your wedding. Your mother had kept you abreast of the family news obviously, but it paled in comparison to seeing your brother in person. You hugged him tightly saying, “Yes, I’d love for you to meet him. Come in.” 

It felt so good to have your loved ones in your home. You soaked in every interaction trying to memorize the happiness etched on everyone’s faces. After a lengthy conversation with Patrick you all learned that his wife was expecting and everyone erupted in congratulations. All the sisters talked over one another in excitement, waking the baby. As you walked down the hall to the nursery, Jack followed you.  

“Is everything alright, doll?” He asked leaning on the doorframe as you rocked your son. “Yes, of course, why?” you asked.

“Well, it’s been a long time since your brother came around and I wanted to know how you felt about it,” Jack asked thoughtfully.

You hadn’t had time for it to sink in that your brother was reaching out to you, but when you stopped to consider it in that moment, tears sprung to your eyes. “It feels wonderful to have him back in our lives,” you replied honestly. 

“I’m so glad to hear you say that because I asked him to come,” Jack held your gaze to gauge your reaction to the news. You studied him wondering why the men had a change of heart. “You mean you don’t mind all those things he said about us…about you, before the wedding?” You asked wanting to be sure Jack had forgiven Patrick.

“He’s family, angel. We don’t turn our back on family, alright? Just to show there’s no hard feelings I’ve gotten your brother a job with me so he can take care of his family the way they deserve.” Jack looked pleased with himself.

You tried to hide your shock in the darkness of the room, but your gasp had said it all. You weren’t sure you wanted your brother to get involved in whatever Jack did. However, you didn’t want to cause an argument after everyone had just reunited. You could hear their joyous voices coming from the dining room and you didn’t want this to be the last time.

Looking down at your sleeping son’s angelic face, you thought what a shame it would be for him not to know his uncle so you decided to support Jack’s proposal. You stood to place Jack, Jr. in his crib and crossed the room to your husband where you placed a hand on his face. Speaking softly and searching his eyes you said, “I trust you to look after my brother, Jack.” Jack placed his hand over yours and quietly grunted in agreement, turning away from you and heading back down the hall. You stood a moment longer looking at the crib, wondering if that had been a promise. 

——————————————————————

If you thought Jack had been protective of you during your pregnancy, that was nothing compared to the way he guarded his son. You had help around the clock, a day nurse and a night nurse for Jack, Jr. When you protested about the unnecessary expense, Jack told you not to worry because he had received another promotion. 

When you told Jack how you enjoyed caring for the baby yourself he just smiled at you, pleased by the wonderful mother you were turning out to be. He was constantly complimenting you about your easy way with the baby and how lucky Jack, Jr. was to have such a beautiful, caring mother. You adored the flattery, but something began to nag at you about the way you were handled.

There were times when you swore the nurses were there to keep watch over you instead of the baby. You had noticed the women’s habit of speaking in the driveway with Jack before they left. It bothered you that they were always just out of earshot. The women were much too old to be love interests, but that only furthered your suspicion they were talking about you.

You asked Jack about his habit of walking the nurses out after their shifts.  “I'm not allowed to know anything about my son’s day? Am I supposed to ask him?” Jack asked with a wisecracking smile. “You could ask me, sweetheart,” you reminded him. Jack nodded thoughtfully and kissed your forehead. 

Distracting you with a suggestion, he asked suddenly, “I’ve got a great idea for tomorrow, angel. Let’s take the baby out for a walk together. Would you like that?” He asked rubbing your arms comfortingly. You nodded, moving to embrace your husband. You had to admit that you liked the way Jack strolled down the street with you and the baby as though he were showing you off to everyone. You felt like you were doing your duty as wife to make him so proud. 

———————————————————————

“What’s wrong, y/n? Are you anxious about the christening?” Your sister asked you as you struggled to button your dress one Sunday morning four months after the birth. ‘“No, it’s not that,” you replied in an irritated voice. You didn’t want to think about Jack’s recent lack of interest in you, but you were hesitant to talk to your sister about your personal problems. 

“Well, what could be the matter then? Today is an important day. You don’t want to look out of sorts in your photos, do you?” she teased.

You couldn’t help but break down in tears. That was the problem with your life with Jack, everything looked picture perfect on the outside, but on the inside your relationship was crumbling. Jack had gone back to working late. When you occasionally protested that he wasn’t interested in you anymore, he would take you into his lap and give you a peck on the cheek, but all passion seemed to be gone. When you attempted to put his attention back on you by initiating sex, he pushed you away.

He had just refused you the night before and you had made a comment about it in your frustration. “Jack, you know you’ll have to fuck me sooner or later if you want another child,” you reminded him. He took your cheeks between his fingers and pinched harshly looking into your eyes. “You know I don’t like it when you’re vulgar,” he warned you. When he sensed your silent fear, he let go and rubbed his forehead as though the idea was making him ill. “What happened to my sweet little angel, huh?” He leaned over you to turn out the light with a disappointed look on his face. You slid under the covers ashamed and Jack rolled away from you to sleep on his side of the bed. You lay awake letting tears fall down your cheeks. 

As you willed the memory away, you returned your sister’s concerned gaze, admitting, “Jack puts me on a pedestal where no one can touch me, not even him.”

“I don’t understand how it’s a bad thing for you husband to respect you, y/n? Most women would give anything to have your life. Jack treats you like a princess,” she said still not understanding your dilemma.

It was clear she thought you were being ungrateful so you knew it was best not to continue a pointless discussion. You wiped your tears away with a handkerchief and powdered your nose. “You’re right. Let me finish up here and I’ll meet you at the church?” Your sister nodded and left the room wordlessly. 

————————————————————————————

You stood at the altar happy that Jack had agreed to make Patrick and Margaret Jack, Jr.’s godparents. Your heart swelled with pride when the priest held your child up for the congregation to see. Your son cried out in protest and you giggled a little at his feistiness. Although the baby enjoyed bath time at home, he had clearly not appreciated the cold water being poured over his head during his blessing.

As you laughed at the sight of your son squirming adorably, Jack’s arm tensed around yours until he held you too tightly. “Jack, you’re hurting me,” you whispered into his ear and he released you with a quick apology. “I’m sorry, angel.” He then reached over to Father O’Callahan and took his son a little too forcefully from his arms. You asked Jack if he wanted you to quiet the baby, but your husband just shook his head, holding his son close to his body until the end of the service.

Later in the rectory, everyone circulated with cake and punch discussing how handsome your boy was. You were enjoying the day and smiling for pictures when Jack whispered in your ear that it was time to leave. You said your goodbyes with Jack's hand at the small of your back, guiding you protectively.

As you descended the stairs outside you asked, “Jack, should we really be going so soon? I’m afraid it’s rude to leave before the others."

“I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks,” Jack said tossing his cigarette to the ground. He waved his driver over and waited at the curb as he ushered you into the backseat. 

You pulled the blankets over a sleeping Jack, Jr. before asking, “What’s wrong, Jack?”

“Nothing, angel,” he lied unconvincingly, as he slid into the seat beside you and loosened his necktie.

“I know something’s wrong. Won’t you please tell me what it is?” You looked at him with a pleading look. He hadn’t been himself all day and you wondered what could be bothering him. Finally Jack spoke in an authoritative voice. “I don’t want my son left alone ever."

"He’s still a baby, Jack. Why would we leave him?” You asked uncertain of what your husband meant. “No, I mean when he's older, he’s not going to be an altar server or nothing for one of them,” Jack said cryptically. “Jack, I don’t understand. Aren’t you always saying we should be pillars of the community? Why would we tell our son not to be part of the church?” You asked unclear of your husband’s reasoning and becoming worried by his demeanor. “I’m a good Catholic, alright? I do my part and that’s enough for this family. My son doesn’t need to do anything.” He said looking out the car window.  As you watched his face, you remembered the accusation your classmate had made about Jack killing a priest. Could he really hold such hatred? you wondered. 

“Jack, there’s something I have to ask you,” you said in a shaky voice. You needed to know the truth about the rumor you heard when you were dating. “When I was still in school, a friend of mine told me a horrible rumor she heard about you. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now I need to know the truth. What happened when you were a teenager? Did you...” Jack cut you off before you could begin. “Y/n, not here,” he warned you stealing a glance at the driver. He had snapped so quickly, you held your breath for fear of igniting his temper. You were by no means done with this discussion though and knew it would have to be addressed at home later. 

—————————————————————————

That night after Jack, Jr. was tucked into his crib, your husband stumbled into your bedroom with what you counted was his fifth drink of the evening. You took the half empty glass from his hands and placed your hands on his shoulders to look him in the eye. “Jack, what happened today? Tell me the truth,” you begged. Jack leaned into your touch, placing his head on your shoulder. You could smell the whiskey on him and see the exhaustion in his glassy eyes. Waiting for the dam to break, you ran your fingers through his hair. 

Finally he looked at you.  “I’m sorry, y/n, I couldn’t help it when I saw that priest hold my son. My son…” he said turning the words over as though he was asserting his ownership. Jack continued, “I never wanted you to know the truth,” Jack said slurring his words. You led him to sit on the bed and he took his head in his hands. He barely looked at you as he told you all about how the local priest had taken him under his wing after his father left. It had begun as a mentorship to keep Jack away from the neighborhood gangs and Jack’s mother agreed. She had been ecstatic that Jack might be considering the priesthood.

Jack stopped his story to look at you, eyes flickering to life suddenly. ”It wasn’t right. It wasn’t natural, y/n." Then your husband began to weep. You wanted to take him in your arms, but the look in his eye told you to keep your distance. Trying to comfort him with words you said, “It’s alright, Jack. I understand." His head jerked up suddenly and he shouted, “You don’t know a goddamn thing, so fucking sheltered your whole life!” You were shocked at his outburst and gulped unsure of how to continue. 

After a long pause you summoned your courage to confront your husband about the rumor that had plagued you. “Jack, is it true what my friend told me? Did you murder that priest?” Jack didn’t speak and you thought he hadn’t heard you so you began again, “Jack I asked if you-“ Jack turned to slap you and spat, “You don’t get to question me, y/n! You got no fucking right!”

You cried out, holding your sore cheek and beginning to tear up. He glared at you, unrepentant. “But fine, you gotta know so damn bad? I killed that fucker. He deserved it and that’s all you need to know.” Your head was spinning. You didn’t have to suspect anymore, you knew. As you sat on the bed, mouth agape at his admission, you were terrified to move. You sat with the knowledge that your husband had taken someone's life.

As you sat in stunned silence, Jack stumbled out of the room, slamming your bedroom door behind him. You heard him knock over a table in the other room, but you didn't dare move to check on him. You stayed awake for hours after his confession, all you could think of was what to do next. Should you leave Jack for what he had done in his past? If so, where would you go and how would you explain your decision to anyone without admitting what you knew? You fell asleep atop the covers in your church clothes, exhausted from your emotional day.

————————————————————————————

The next morning you woke to a breakfast tray fit for a queen. Your husband sat on the edge of the bed with a smile on his face. “Good morning, doll,” he said stroking your cheek lightly. You startled awake and cowered away from his touch. “What do you want?” you asked frightened. “I want to say thank you for accepting me...sins and all. I know that wasn’t easy for you to hear,” he said attempting to kiss you.

You pulled away and he looked hurt as he said, “You’re scared, angel, I know. I didn’t think I had it in me either, but I promise you that's all in my past. You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He held out his hand for you like he would a scared animal. You looked at him cautiously and asked, “Jack, you swear you've never harmed anyone else?” You were afraid to hear what he would say.

“Of course, angel, I would never,” he said with a reassuring smile. He rubbed your arm and you leaned into his touch wanting to believe him. Something stopped you though. You had to have one last confirmation that his business wasn’t what you thought. “Jack, swear on your son’s life that there'll be no more killing,” you said tone serious and eyes blazing. Jack studied you for a moment and said, “I swear, angel.” Relieved, you leaned into his kiss. Moving the breakfast tray aside, Jack pulled you to the side of the bed to remove your clothes delicately. He was sweet and loving the way you remembered from your early days. 

After several rounds of lovemaking, you snuggled into his arms feeling as though the last day had been nothing more than a bad dream. You even began rationalizing Jack’s decision to kill his abuser. You wondered how you would feel if someone hurt your son. If he had no one to protect him, wouldn't you expect him to defend himself?The more you thought about it, you understood the difficult predicament Jack had faced as a young man. He had sworn on Jack, Jr.'s life that there was nothing else to worry about so you believed him and gave into your deep love for you husband. 

——————————————————————————

Three months later you were watching Jack Jr. crawl across the living room carpet, clapping joyously for his accomplishment, when a severe wave of nausea overtook you. You called for the nurse to come watch Jack Jr. and you ran to the bathroom in time to vomit. As you washed up, you looked in the mirror at your pale face and reality hit you. You recognized all the symptoms. You were pregnant. 

When Jack came home that night, the baby was in bed. A dinner had been laid out for both of you and you eagerly awaited the time when you would reveal your secret. You hoped Jack would be as happy at the news of this baby as he was when you told him about Jack, Jr. You thought of this new life growing inside you like a fresh start for you and Jack with no more secrets between you.

However, Jack seemed preoccupied tonight. You couldn’t understand why as he indicated work had gone well. You suddenly became unsure about broaching the topic of the new baby. You had learned how to predict his bad moods and this could very well turn into one. Finally, you decided to speak, “Jack, I have something to tell you, darling. I’m-“ But Jack was lost in thought and began speaking at the same time as though he hadn’t heard you. “Angel, your brother’s dead.” 

Continue reading Part 4

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[fang-natic]

honor roll, dean's list

<tsukishima x top!m!professor!reader>

cw: feminization, dubcon, dumbification, unbalanced power dynamics, teacher/student, loss of virginity

a/n: it's 2 3 am. i'll find a header later

Long story short, you are a bit of a difficult professor.

That means no extra credit. No deadline extensions. No if's, and's, or but's. You don't have time for slackers, though you've had plenty of students grovel at your feet for a second chance, just a few extra percentage points to change letter grades. You like to consider yourself immune to most of them. You've seen them pull every trick in the book.

But the keyword here is 'most'. You do have a weakness, and depending on the student, you're more than happy to let them exploit that.

One such student this semester was Tsukishima Kei.

He's an honor roll, dean's list, straight-A undergraduate. He shows up on time, leaves at the bell, returns papers and homework filled out in perfect penmanship. He doesn't participate in many extracurriculars, aside from volleyball. He speaks with clipped words and shrewd politeness.

He's also leaning against the desk of your office right now, white blouse partway unbuttoned to reveal the black bralette underneath and red lipstick smeared across his equally-red face.

You lean back to admire your handwork. His blond hair is ruffled and spiked up in different directions from your tousling. Dark bruises are blooming prettily against his pale neck. The short little tartan skirt you had him wear is riding up, revealing the edge of the white stockings on his long legs.

"Professor..." He breathes, almost a whine, and you smile. "Your promise."

That's right. You did do that, didn't you? He dressed up for you and you let him keep his 4.0 gpa.

You click your tongue. "I didn't see all of it yet," You chide, tapping an open palm against his thigh and making him jolt. "Turn around and bend over for me, Kei."

The blush on his face somehow grows deeper, and crawls down his neck. He complies, leaning carefully over the strewn papers so as not to move them, the skirt lifting up to reveal soft black lace. Through it, you can just make out the glint of something shiny, nestled between his cheeks.

Your smile grows wider. He really did go through with all of it, down to the last detail. As expected from such a model student.

"To think you were wearing this during class," You murmur, as you drag the edge of the panties to the side to give more access to his hole. He jumps under your touch. "You were so clever to change into the skirt after the class, but you couldn't be bothered to do the same with this?" You flick the end of the plug, and he gasps. "I saw you squirming during my lecture. I almost wanted to ask if you were alright."

The blush made the back of his neck glow bright red. "I didn't want to prep myself in the bathroom," he muttered. He's refusing to look at you. "It's easier to do at home."

"Smart girl. Did you do this before?" You tug lightly, the plug sliding a fraction of an inch outwards before sinking back in, and a full-bodied shiver runs up the boy's spine.

"N-no," His voice trembles for the first time. "This is - my first time."

"Your first time doing what? Seducing a professor for extra points?" When he doesn't reply right away, you land a light slap against his ass, eliciting a sharp gasp. "Or wearing a toy in public?"

"It's my first time doing anything." Oh, that was what you were hoping to hear. You had been hoping he'd be a virgin, but with his looks you wouldn't have been been surprised if he wasn't. And even if he's lying, you'll fuck him as if he was telling the truth. Ruthlessly and completely ruining him for anyone that came afterwards.

You pull the plug out of him in one sharp motion, making him yelp. His hole is pink and puffy, shiny with lube and twitching as you line your cock up, gripping his waist.

"W-w-wait! Professor-" He reaches to grab your wrist, a look on franticness on his face as he glances over his shoulder. "I-shouldn't you prep me before-?"

"It's fine, isn't it? You were wearing that plug." You chuckle. "If you did it all right, you will be fine, Kei."

And you slam forward.

The movement shoves Tsukishima forward against the desk, scattering pens and papers everywhere and knocking him down, his face dragging against the wood. His eyes are wide with a sort of shock, and his legs are shaking - he gasps, hardly able to make a sound as his hole flutters tightly around you. If you were kinder, you'd give him a moment to adjust, to get used to your size.

But to reiterate. You're something of a difficult professor. And you don't have time for slackers.

The pace you set is punishing right off the bat, dragging the boy's slender frame up and down the desk, hands bruising a ring around his thin waist. Each thrust punches a thin cry out of him, barely managing to keep his face up as he tries to prop himself up again. His legs have completely given out, reduced to being splayed out and twitching on the carpet as you fuck into him.

"P-pro-ffess-or-" He wails. "Y/N- it hurts-!"

"Hush, now. Good girls don't complain." You adjust your grip and tilt his hips upwards, curling his spine at a brutal angle before pounding in again. It must be just as painful as before, but now you can hear the startled moan that leaves him as you slam against his prostate. You reach down and lift up one of his legs, squeezing his thigh appreciatively as you pull his knee up to his chest, and the new position lets you thrust deeper. "There, now. Is that better? Does that feel good?"

"Y-yes," He slurs out. When he turns his face over his shoulder again, you can see his pupils are blown out and glassy with tears, face flushing beautifully. It's clear that his thoughts are scattered - he's not the same composed student he was before. "Please..."

"Your tight little hole is taking it beautifully, Kei. It's blushing all red and pretty for me." And on cue, his hole clenches, hot and slick and perfect. "Do you want a reward, baby?"

He nods dumbly, and you lean over and kiss him, letting him start out all chaste and clumsy before licking his lips open and fucking your tongue between his teeth. Hot and slick and tasting like coffee and strawberry candy, and he moans helplessly. Before long, you feel him tighten once more around you - like a velvet vice - and he shakes apart, cumming with a soft whimper.

It takes you completely by surprise, and you follow quickly after, biting his lips with a groan and filling him deep. As you pull away, you note that his mouth is swollen and shiny with spit, and his ass is red from slapping against your hips. You flip him over, and find that the exposed skin of his chest was rubbed pink against the desk. His panties are darkened from his own cum, and there's a dark line from where the edge of the desk had bruised against his thighs. Between all this and the cum sliding out between his cheeks, he looks completely debauched.

He looks perfect.

He doesn't seem to be registering everything that's happening, as he blinks slowly and confusedly at you, and then himself. "Ah-Professor..."

"You came before me, you know," You tut. "If you want me to think about giving you that A, you'll have to do better next time. Understand?"

He blinks again, and nods, as you reach out to wipe the thin line of drool from the corner of his lips.

"Good girl."

[avintagekiss24]

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

[dr4cking]

can i request a car smut with draco please 😏

Distraction.

masterlist taglist

draco malfoy x reader | smut |

a/n : ugh this idea has been running on my mind 😁 thank you for requesting! <3

y/n walked out of her house when she heard the horn from his car, running to the man she was supposed to go on a date.

she quickly get in the car, greeting draco with a kiss on his cheek.

“looking gorgeous as always, love” he compliments, her perfume filling his car intoxicating him as soon as she sits on the passenger seat.

“thank you, you look hot as always” both of them chuckles and he starts the car.

they were driving to their destination for about an hour, they’re going to somewhere special to celebrate their anniversary but now they’re currently stuck in traffic.

“ugh traffic sucks” y/n whines, the music from the radio isnt curing their boredom anymore.

“yeah it sucks we’ve been trapped for like what, 30 minutes i think” he replied with the same annoyance, sipping his coke.

the more they stuck the more they got bored, but after a few minutes the vehicles in front of them slowly disappeared one by one.

y/n cant help but stare at his hands gripping on the steering wheels and his eyes focusing on the road, her cheeks suddenly heated as she feels arousal down there.

she put one of her hand on his tense shoulder, caressing it slowly making him relaxed until she let her hand trailing down to his biceps squeezing it lightly.

draco was still focused on the road thinking she was just being touchy but her next move making him bite his lip.

she gently tracing and stroking his thigh dangerously close to his crotch, letting her fingertips tapping his thigh while moving up to his part.

“y/n.. what are you d-doing?” his face flushed as she palmed him through his jeans and her thumb playing with the zipper.

“what do you mean? i didnt do anything” she replied pretending to be innocent while her hand pressing down on his hardening cock making him sighed.

she continues her naughty move, her hand now squeezing his cock through his jeans, her other hand quickly working on the button and the zipper.

“y/n this isnt safe..” draco said between his moan as she pulling out his cock, squeezing the tip with her fingers making precum oozing out of it.

she bend down now facing his crotch, she licks a straight line from the base to the top. swirling her tongue around it.

“ah! baby, its- its not safe” he gripped the wheels tighter as she spits on his sensitive tip then pressing her tongue on his slit getting more of precum coming out. the tingly feeling making him bucked his hips.

y/n pulled away sitting straight up to normal making his head snapped instantly to her, anger showing on his face.

“what the fuck do you think youre doing?”

“you said its not safe so i stop it, dont wanna crash down you know..” she chuckles as she saw his disbelief look.

“shut your bullshit and get back here, finish what you have started.” her breath got caught in her throat when she heard the dominant tone in his voice, rubbing her thighs together shakily bending down to him again.

she gripped his cock tightly without warning, pulling it in her mouth until it touches the back of her throat.

“fucking hell..” draco’s knuckles turned pale as he gripped the wheels tightly, his body jolted out from her sudden action.

she suck him eagerly, her nose were hitting his lower abdomen repeatedly. he was twitching when she hummed and moaned around his cock.

the slurping sounds and his heavy breaths making his ears turned pink. now his car is nothing but unholy scene.

luckily, his window is dark enough to cover what she was doing to him right now.

“f-fuck i’m gonna cum!” he moaned loudly as he let his orgasm hit him, spurting his cum down her throat which she gladly swallowed.

his eyes closed for a second before opening up again, thanking the universe that no one is going in front of them.

he looks at y/n who was still sucking on her fingers cleaning his cum, his pupils widened and filled with lust.

draco quickly pulling over to the abandoned empty parking spot, parking his car right away and lowering his seat down.

“you’re such a needy slut, cant even wait until we got there and decided to be a distraction instead.”

“i was just really bored, daddy” he grabbed her wrist impatiently pulling y/n onto his lap making the girl yelped.

he pushed her skirt up, ripping her underwear apart and throwing it to the backseat.

his fingers rubbing around her glistening cunt making her dropped her head back in pleasure finally getting some friction.

he inserts his fingers into her, pumping them into her, the sounds it made due to how she was already slicked making his smirk get wider.

“god, there daddy..!” he curls his fingers inside her his long fingers brushing her gspot without making any effort, she screamed when the knot tightened in her stomach.

“yes daddy.. i’m so close!” he pushed his fingers deeper and thats when she let go, coming undone her walls clenching around his fingers making him groaned.

he pulls his fingers out and sucking on them savouring her taste moaning at it making her body burns at the sight.

he smirked before pushing his fingers down her throat letting her tasting herself.

“so fucking delicious, right babygirl?” she nodded, grinding her cunt on his cock petting him, he groaned loudly and slapped her ass.

“fuck me, now” she obliged and lifted her body up, gripping his cock under her lining it up with her.

she keeps their eye contact, biting her bottom lip before sinking down on his cock.

uncontrolled moans and groans filling the car, the air conditioner cant even cooling down the heat anymore.

she started bouncing up and down on him, gripping on his shoulder to balance herself, his hands are guiding her hips. his tongue licking her clothed breast damping it and biting on her nipple making the girl let out a squeak.

draco feels her movements faltered and decided to take the control, his hands moved to her ass squeezing it hard, he thrusts upwards into her, pounding his cock harder and deeper.

the car is moving uncontrollably due to his rough thrusts, if anyone passed by them they would obviously know what was happening.

y/n let her head dropped down to his shoulder biting his exposed neck to hold her screams when he brushed her spot over and over again, forcing her high to coming back to her.

“feels so good, angel?”

she was so lost in her pleasure that she cant even heard him, his pounding was making her head dizzy as the coil tightened ready to snapped through her body.

“god, so fucking lost that you cant even focused on me, huh? all braindead for me” he chuckles, one of his hands gripped her throat pulling her closer to him forcing her to answer him.

“i’m sorry daddy it feels too g- good” he moved his hand down to her clit, rubbing and pinching it lightly making the girl squirmed.

“be a good girl for me and cum” and with one deep short thrust he gave, she let her high washed over her with a loud scream of his name left her lips, a single tear dropped off of her eyes.

it was so good that she instantly collapsed on his body. her legs are shaking uncontrollably.

“holy fuck.. you squirted- oh shit y/n!” draco cums right away at the feeling of her walls clenching and squeezing him so hard and tight, he groaned loudly shooting all of his seed into her filling her up.

he lazily ride out their high. letting their bodies relaxed into each other, catching their breaths.

“that was so fucking good, darling” he cupped her face, capturing her lips on him kissing her sweetly.

“i made a mess..” she chuckles as she broke the kiss looking down and seeing his jeans all soaked up.

“i love it, reminding me of how good i fucked you” he made no move to pulls out of her letting her cockwarming him.

“happy anniversary, my love” draco kissed her one more time, her hand stroking his hair softly.

“happy anniversary, my love” y/n let her head resting on his shoulder.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

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