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aliceramblez · 10 months ago

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Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈

Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.

A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!

Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~

Charlie 🌈

When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.

As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.

You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.

As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.

You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.

It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?

But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.

She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”

And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.

She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.

You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.

You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.

Vaggie 🎀

Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.

The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.

“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”

And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.

Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.

“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”

You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.

For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.

During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.

You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!

It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.

Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.

Angel Dust 🕸

Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.

You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.

When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.

This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.

“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”

Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.

As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.

Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.

And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.

Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.

With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.

One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.

You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.

You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.

Husker 🍺

As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.

It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.

Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.

Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.

You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.

Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.

“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”

Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?

After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.

So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?

But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.

To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”

And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.

Sir Pentious 🐍

You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.

As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.

You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.

He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!

You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.

One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.

“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”

You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”

Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.

So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.

Alastor 📻

After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.

As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.

Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.

Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.

“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”

“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”

After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.

You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.

But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.

“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”

The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.

“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”

And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.

Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.

The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).

Like you said—he's not a monster.

Lucifer 🍎

You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.

His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.

Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?

To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.

Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.

“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”

You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.

After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?

Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.

He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.

It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?

Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.

Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”

You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #vaggie x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader #sir pentious x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #husker x reader #husk x reader

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rafccameron · 1 month ago

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please, please, please : rafe cameron.

word count: 1.6k a / n: this is my first time writing in a while so please be kind. i just finished 4a of outer banks and have so much muse to write rafe right now so just wanted to get this out. warnings: alcohol use , drug mention , fluff , angst , mild physical violence , suggestive nudity(?). summary: y/n is a kook and rafe's ex but y/n still harbors alot of feelings for him and it shows. at kelce's summer bash, the two of you see one another and things seem alot more complicated than simply being exes.

you were a kook, in most ways atleast. both of your parents coming from figure eight, but they didn't raise you with the same distaste for kooks or anyone for that matter. you were raised to be kind and handle yourself and other's with a certain level of respect. you're friends often ragged on you for this but you stood your ground and most of them, respected that.

tonight, like most saturday nights you found yourself partying, kelce was throwing his annual summer bash and per usual anyone who was anyone was there. ruthie to your side as the two of you made your way out to the backyard. she'd been your friend since childhood, your families more like family than long time friends as this point and while you didn't agree with her on most things, the two of you managed to keep a solid friendship. somehow.

" bikini time , " she calls out to you , already shuffling out of her shorts. playfully rolling your eyes you follow suit. as your pulling your tank top over your head, your eyes land on him. your ex boyfriend, or fling, whatever he'd managed to degrade you down to when he was done with you. kicking your clothes off to the side, you glance over at ruthie.

" i need a shot, " you groan, before she can so much as say anything you're already headed inside toward the kitchen, " or three. "

leaned up against the counter as you wait for kelce to top off the shot glass he'd just pulled out for you, you can't help but to overhear a blonde not too far from you making a comment to her boyfriend. his dad's dead, his sister's a pogue now, and he's an absolute dick ... the cameron's really have fallen from grace. you down the shot handed to you, immediately turning on your heels to walk over to the blonde.

" have some respect maybe? " you can't help but stick up for a family that took you in as one of their own for so long, for the guy you cared so much about, no matter how frustrated seeing him here tonight made you.

" aw, y/n still sticking up for a guy who's never cared about you? " the blonde bites back, her boyfriend's smug grin enough to get your blood boiling.

" i just think it's pathetic to kick people while they're down, i know it's hard to grasp when you have literally nothing better to do with your life though. " you comment, keeping your voice calm somehow, " i'd recommend working on being a little nicer, my mother would never hire someone so nasty, " the blonde, grace, looks at you in shock as you hang her internship under your mother over her head. " have the night you deserve though, grace, " you manage to pull a semblance of a smile onto your face before walking off.

only halfway through your stride you collide with a body. their hand snaking around your waist to keep you steady, just as you peel yourself off from them his blue eyes come into your eye line.

" rafe... "

the smirk on his face says it all, he heard that whole thing and more obviously, he was on some mix of alcohol and coke. already.

" hi baby, " his words just quiet enough for only you to hear. the chills that reach your spine from the familiar greeting goes against everything you want your reaction to be. " don't call me that, i'm not your baby, " your tone as stern as you can possible manage.

" that sounded like you were, " he notes, one hand pulling his beer to his lips and the other pointing over in the empty space the couple was once taking up. his own smug grin basically forces you to nudge him slightly out of the way .

" shut up, rafe, " you huff, walking past him but before you can get very far you feel a hand wrap around your wrist. " hey, wait, " rafe's tone was soft something you were once far too familiar with. until it just kind of vanished one day.

" can we go talk somewhere? " his question enough to get a humorless laugh from you.

" now you want to talk? no, i'm not doing this right now. " you refused to let him worm his way back in or sweet talk you in anyway.

" just leave me alone, please. " you manage to get your arm out of his grasp and before he can make another attempt topper and kelce are pulling him away talking about some beer pong bet.

you spend the next couple of hours back with ruthie and the girls although you can't recall anything any of them have said, your mind only on one thing. it was always that way, he could go off and completely forget about you, while you stayed stagnant, stuck on him.

as the party starts to settle down you get up heading toward the guest room kelce had always kept free for you whenever he'd throw a party. a little wobbly as you made your way up the stairs, you weren't a lightweight persay but during a full night of drinking it was inevitable for the drinks to hit you at some point. bryce, a guy you went to school with at the academy notices you struggling up the stairs, coming up on the side of you and giving you a steady arm.

" hey, hey you good? " he asks, a kind smile spreading across his face. you just nod, pointing up toward the bedroom.

" heard ya, loud and clear, " he chuckles as he helps you up the stairs and toward the guest room you point toward.

" y/n, i'm gonna go grab you a water, okay? " he says as he settles you down onto the bed.

" the hell you are, " an all too familiar voice booms from the doorway. you manage to get a glimpse of rafe just over bryce's shoulder. he looked angry but that wasn't particularly anything new. " the fuck do you think you're doing? " his voice still raised as he pushes bryce away from you.

" stop, " you mumble, rubbing your hands over your face.

" what is he your new boyfriend or something? " rafe snaps at you, pushing at bryce again this time toward the door.

" chill, " he finally gives in and pushes rafe back.

" just get out, man " a taunting tone coming from rafe. before either of them can get another word out or another hit you stand up , " just get out, " you huff fed up with the show the two were putting on. bryce listens almost immediately with a shake of his head.

" i knew you didn't want him in here with you, baby, " rafe smiles as he closes the door and turns to you but as you plop down on the bed, glossy eyes looking up at him, " i meant you too, " you huff.

" what? " aggravation lacing his tone.

" rafe, you can't keep doing this ... " despite your words, you point toward the bag you brought up here earlier, for him to grab you your change of clothes. he follows your silent directions, you catch the smirk on his face as he pulls out your pajamas. they were his favorite ones when you two were together, a light blue satin short set with a pink frilly trim. " doing what? " he his voice going back to that soft tone you'd heard from him earlier in the night as he comes close to you, giving you a little tap on the leg as if to tell you he'd help you change. had you not been as drunk as you were you'd have turned down the offer but odds were you would struggle without his help. " acting like you care, " the hurt in your voice is clear, as you cover up your bare chest once he undoes your bikini top. he goes silent at your words, his bottom lip popping out as he gives you a slight nod. there's a silence the comes over the room as he continues to help you change, once you're fully clothes you pull yourself up further on the bed.

" i do care by the way, " he notes, sitting at the side of the bed as he pulls as strand of your hair out of your face.

" you don't, you never did. you, me and everyone else on this damn island know that. " you sigh, turning over so that your back is facing him now.

" let me prove it to you, " you can hear the smugness in his tone as he makes himself at home in the bed alotted for you, his hand playing with your hair and your far too exhausted to whack his hand away.

" why? so you show everyone how dumb i am again? " in any other situation your word would hurt the guy beside you but in this case you knew they hurt you more than they could every hurt him. atleast you'd convinced yourself of that.

rafe goes silent, his hands still running through your hair as you slowly start fall asleep and for a moment you could've swore you heard him whisper " i love you, baby. "

#rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron #obx fanfiction

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mattnott · 12 days ago

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𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄

lorenzo berkshire x fem reader

SUMMARY. enzo knows how to push buttons, and what better way to get under his girlfriend’s skin than by flirting with someone else? WORDS.+5.8K. english it’s not my first language.

WARNINGS. smut, +18 mdni, porn w//plot, reader and enzo are 18, sub!enzo, oral! f receiving, pnv, dick riding, lick kink (?), unprotected sex, making out, established relationship, whipped enzo (kinda), flirting, jealous reader, pussy drunk enzo, finger sucking.

A chilling fog hovered over the vast castle of Hogwarts. The dense, almost spectral mist curled around the school’s tall towers and spiraled down to cover the surface of the Black Lake, spreading like a curtain across the landscape and blurring the boundaries between sky and earth, creating an endless sea of gray that made it nearly impossible to discern the horizon.

Outside was eerily silent, and the usual sounds of bustling students seemed muffled. The hurried footsteps, the distant laughter—everything seemed softened, silenced by the thick, damp air. Even the castle’s imposing stone walls, usually so solid yet welcoming, felt colder, more rigid than usual, enveloped by the heavy, damp fog that crept into every corner and corridor.

Within the castle, the torches flickered faintly, casting long shadows across the stone corridors. The few students who remained moved swiftly, their voices hushed, as if they didn’t want to disturb the heavy silence that had settled with the fog and cold, which seemed to cling to the walls, making them wrap themselves in cloaks and scarves in a nearly futile attempt to escape the biting chill.

In contrast to the school’s corridors, the Slytherin common room filled the air with an almost eerie yet comforting calm. The soft glow of green-tinged torches reflected gently off the leather and velvet armchairs, and the fire crackled in the large fireplace, though its warmth was still a bit weak, barely enough to drive the lingering chill from the stone walls. Not that it mattered much; most of the students had already gone to bed, leaving only a few by the fire, chatting quietly among themselves.

Lorenzo Berkshire was one of them.

Enzo was lounging by the fireplace in an old velvet armchair, the soft firelight casting shadows over his handsome features, highlighting the lines of his face and the playful glint in his gaze. He held his usual casual, almost lazy posture, yet there was a subtle mischief in his expression that contrasted with his apparent relaxation. A faint smirk played at the corner of his mouth as he watched his friends, Mattheo and Theodore, who were seated a little further in front of him.

Beside them, a small group of girls giggled at their conversation, though they seemed more interested in everything except the words being said, eyeing the slytherin trio with an almost obscene manner.

On the other side of the common room, you stood, almost concealed in the shadows, the soft glow of the fire casting a faint light on the pages of the small book resting in your lap. Yet, the book had long been forgotten, with only your fingers tightly gripping the pages as a reminder of its presence. Your attention, however, was completely focused on your boyfriend, Enzo, who was now dangerously close to a girl, her smile too provocative and wide, her laughter too loud for your taste.

It was torture.

You kept a distance, your heart skipped a beat as you watched them, and you could feel your body growing sick. The girl leaned in slightly, her hand brushing against the armrest of Enzo’s chair, and her laughter sounded too sweet in a way that made you want to tear your ears off and her tongue out. She was enjoying flirting with him far too much, way too much. Her eyes sparkled with the attention she thought Enzo was giving her, and it made your blood boil, almost as if your veins were about to melt.

Still, you tried to keep your composure.

You could see the way his lips curled into another smirk, this time a more confident one—the kind that always made you want to reach out and wipe that annoyingly perfect face off. He was clearly toying with her, and while you knew you were the one who truly held his heart, that didn’t change the fact that you could feel your veins burning with anger. And what made it worse was that it was happening right in front of you, with him fully aware you were watching.

Every fake laugh he let slip with her made your ears ache, and every fake flirtatious glance he shot her way made your almost eyes bleed. But what twisted the knife was how everything he did felt intentionally exaggerated, as though he was either sending a message—or even worse, provoking you until you cracked.

And the worst part? It was almost working.

Enzo always loved doing that. He always loved drawing attention, but it wasn’t just for fun—it was almost like a weapon. Every gesture, every smile, every word, every step, it was all calculated, all part of his game. Nothing was spontaneous. He knew exactly what he was doing, how to manipulate the atmosphere, twisting every ounce of his charm to ensure all eyes were on him.

And it wasn’t just about being seen, it was about controlling how others saw him. Enzo was always one step ahead, and he knew exactly how to make everything he wanted fall right into his hands. Sometimes he just seemed to forget how that game didn't work with you most of the time.

You sighed sharply, flipping open the book again and trying to read, but the words blurred under your gaze. Your fingers dug into the pages, pressing harder before you could realize it, too furious at the scene playing out in front of you. Every muscle in your body tensed as you held yourself back from doing something reckless, forcing yourself to keep control so he wouldn’t feel like he’d won.

You wanted to scream in frustration.

The girl seemed to be enjoying herself even more, too oblivious to sense the insincerity in his actions, too thrilled with the attention she was getting. She leaned in closer, her hand settling on his arm with an irritating confidence, her fingers now tracing along his sleeve. At her touch, Enzo shifted slightly, moving a few millimeters away, offering her a lazy grin, though you could detect a flicker of irritation behind it as he murmured something low, meant only for her ears.

“No touching, yet.” You read his lips, aware that Enzo was always the one to initiate contact but never the one to welcome it; you were the only one who held that privilege. ‘Yet’ felt like a hollow promise, one she’d never be able to do.

Unfortunately for you, she was too clueless to notice, and her irritating giggles grew louder as she pushed her hand on herself, convinced that he would give her what she wanted at any moment.

He wouldn’t, yet you still wanted to rip your eyes from your face, or perhaps tear out theirs.

Your grip tightened around the pages as her loud giggles echoed in your ears, the edges of the pages biting into your skin, leaving red marks behind. The temptation to march over there, to yank Enzo away by his hair and remind him that you were the only one allowed to touch him, was overwhelming.

You wanted to remind him that you, his girlfriend, were right there. But when his eyes finally met yours, that flicker of amusement in his gaze froze you in place. He knew. You knew he knew. And worse, you knew he was doing it on purpose.

Your relationship was always this way—small, calculated moves to unsettle each other, to test who loved the other more, who could push the other further, who felt more. Little games meant to sting, to spark jealousy, all leading to the same end: you finally giving in, begging him to be inside of you. But this time, you told yourself, would be different. This time, you wouldn’t beg.

No matter how much you loved him or how deeply you craved him, this time you wouldn’t give in. Still, the urge simmered within you, a desire to remind Enzo that he was yours just as much as you were his. The thought alone made you bite your lip in frustration, struggling to keep yourself from getting up and putting an end to this nonsense.

Enzo’s smile widened slightly when he noticed the frustrated look you cast in his direction, watching him intently. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes told you everything, he loved the power he had over you. The way your frustration was slowly eating away at you was exactly what he wanted.

As you refused to give in, he almost let out a tired sigh, bored by your resistance, until a wicked little idea flickered in his mind, making him drape his arm over the top of the sofa, and the girl's giggles grew louder as she stepped closer, gazing up at him like he was her next prize. She was practically begging for his attention, and though Enzo only offered her a fake smirk, you felt your blood boil once more.

You took a sharp breath, pulling your gaze away from the scene in front of you. You did your best to control the jealousy and possessiveness rising inside you, struggling to keep your anger from spilling over. But there was something about his nonchalance that made your resolve begin to crumble, the way he seemed perfectly at ease with what he was doing to you and your jealousy, making you feel like you were overreacting.

That was maddening.

But still, you stayed where you were, with an almost unreadable expression. You were no stranger to the games Enzo liked to play and the way he loved getting a reaction out of you, as if he was proving to himself that you cared.

The girl, too distracted to notice the tension between the two of you, leaned in even closer to Enzo. Her fingers lightly brushed against his arm again, a gesture that would have meant nothing to anyone else. But to you, it felt like a physical blow, and you couldn't help but clench your jaw, your fingers digging into the pages of the book again as you fought to maintain your self-control.

This time, he couldn’t win. You wouldn’t let him win again.

Enzo noticed your reaction—he always did. His smirk deepened, filled with satisfaction at seeing your discomfort mirrored by the irritation simmering within him.

He let the moment drag on just a bit longer, holding your gaze just long enough to make it clear he was fully aware of how you were reacting, before finally turning to the girl. An irritated smirk played on his lips as he leaned toward her. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” he murmured, his tone teasing but laced with acidity.

You recognized his behavior instantly. He’d never liked it when anyone besides you tried to touch him; he didn’t care for anyone’s attention as much as he cared for yours. You knew he was drawing a line, not because of her, but for of you, because no matter how far he went, his love, however twisted it was, was yours.

Only yours.

The girl, however, didn’t seem to take the hint, and you couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could be so stupid. Even Mattheo and Theodore exchanged looks, cringing at her annoying persistence.

But she only smiled wider, clearly convinced his words were part of some flirtatious game, part of the charm he was known for. She leaned in closer, determined to close the distance between them, as if she could break through the invisible wall Enzo had put up around himself, a wall that only you were allowed to pass.

Still, you were on the edge, feeling the rational part of you slip through your fingers, but you forced yourself to stay seated. Your nails dug into the fabric of your pants, the book now discarded on the floor as you kept watching them, the jealousy eating you alive.

You tore your gaze away from him for a moment, focusing on the cover of the book, desperately trying to calm the storm raging inside you. But then you felt it—his deep chocolate eyes on you again, the weight of his gaze pulling you back to him.

He was staring at your face, a frown tugging at his brows, but it was the fucking smirk that made your blood boil. It was as if he could sense every reaction you had and could read every thought that flickered through your mind. And the worst part? Enzo could.

And now, every time the girl giggled even louder in an exaggerated manner and grabbed your boyfriend’s arm with even more confidence, it wasn’t just jealousy anymore, it was something more insistent, something sharper. Your blood wasn’t just boiling anymore; it was exploding, almost tearing through your veins.

Enzo was pushing you, testing your limits to see how much you could handle before all hell broke loose. He knew exactly how to make you squirm, how to make you feel small or powerful, even without trying. And yet, somehow, you were still clinging to your composure, even though the final straw was closer than you realized. You were going to lose it, you were definitely going to lose it.

Then, just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, Enzo’s gaze sliced through the air like a blade. His lips moved lazily. “She’s just playing,” you read his lips, the words meant only for you, his posture softer than you had ever seen, his eyes never leaving yours. “Nothing serious, princess.” You read his lips again, your hands gripping your pants harder. But deep down, you knew if he had said it aloud, his voice would be dripping with mockery.

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stay still and cling to the little dignity you had left, refusing to let him get under your skin any further. You had been holding your ground, resisting his game—until now.

But then, as if sensing your resolve cracking, Enzo shifted slightly, discomfort flickering across his face at her touch, but the smug relaxation in his posture betrayed the satisfaction beneath. He knew exactly what he was doing, pulling you back in.

His arm still draped over the back of the green sofa, casually claiming the space, as if he had all the time in the world. The girl, still completely unaware of her role in his twisted game to have you, leaned in even closer, her lips inches from his ear.

That's when it happened. The final push.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Without a word, you stood up abruptly, your steps heavy on the floor, the sharp echo reverberating through the communal room, drawing the attention of the few students still lingering. Their eyes followed you, tracking every swift, angry movement.

You ignored the shifting shadows behind you, finally accepting that you’d lost and making your way toward your boyfriend.

Enzo’s eyes followed your every step, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as you reached his chair. Without giving him a chance to say a word, you grabbed his tie, not gently, but with a force that made him falter for a second. You drove him to his feet, dragging him away from the girl in one fast gesture.

His friends exchanged knowing glances, amusement dancing in their eyes, but none of them dared to interfere, too entertained by whatever was happening. The girl blinked, her flirtatious smile quickly fading as she watched you drag Enzo toward the dorm stairs. The way he didn’t resist.

He never did when it came to you.

Your hand stayed clenched around Enzo’s tie, gripping it with a possessiveness that radiated a silent claim as you reached the stairs, your eyes scanning the path ahead, oblivious to the satisfied gaze he kept locked on you. His smile widened when you gave his tie another firm tug, his eyes gleaming with a dark, consuming hunger, pleased that you’d put an end to the scene, pleased that you’d proven exactly what he wished.

As you reached your dorm door, you spun to face him, frustration and anger simmering in your gaze, your breaths shallow and unsteady. Your hold on his tie tightened, possessive and unyielding, as you pushed him inside, disregarding the smug smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. The dark glint in his eyes only made your blood burn hotter; he’d been waiting for this, savoring every second, but you would not give him what he wanted, not yet.

Once you were both inside the room, you released your grip on Enzo’s tie, shoving him into the chair with an intensity that matched your boiling anger. You could still feel the heat of jealousy coursing through you as you moved, your steps quick and agitated. Enzo, though taken aback for a brief moment, quickly regained his composure, his smirk transforming into a playful, charming smile.

He watched you pace the room, his eyes gleaming with amusement, as you pressed your hand to your forehead, trying to control the anger you felt.

“You seemed a bit... tense back there, princess.” Enzo’s voice was smooth, teasing, as he settled into the chair, his gaze dark and unwavering on you. “Need any help?” he continued, his tone still playful, but the edge in his smile faltered when you shot him a sharp, cutting glare. He knew you were angry. He could feel it.

“Don’t even try, Enzo!” you snapped, your voice laced with frustration. Normally, you would have played along with his games, but tonight, you were beyond furious. Maybe it was the stress of the day or just the suffocating weight of everything, but this time, he’d gone too far.

Enzo’s smirk faltered for a brief second, but it was enough for you to catch it—the flicker of regret that crossed his face before he masked it. He was trying to read you, testing the waters, but something seemed to shifted.

“That girl… What the fuck were you trying to prove?” you demanded, stepping closer, your hands balling into fists at your sides as your frustration flared.

He didn’t want to upset you like this; you knew that. He loved you too much for that. He always showed it with sweet words, declarations, and little gestures that made you feel like you were everything to him.

But underneath it all, there was that part of him, the part that couldn’t stop playing his games. He had always been the center of attention, drawing people in with ease, but when it came to you, it was different. You were the only one who held his heart, and yet, in his own way, he still craved the control.

Pushing boundaries, testing limits, he couldn’t help it. Not because he didn’t care for you, but because, in some twisted way, he needed to know just how far you would go for him.

Yet, Enzo sometimes seemed clueless to the fact that he already held your attention completely and that was his mistake. He always thought that his way of loving was the only right way, always wanting you to meet his standards.

“I wasn’t trying to prove anything!” he defended himself, though his voice faltered slightly, a crack betraying him as he watched you intently, that was not the reaction he wanted.

“Oh, right, of course you weren’t!” You rolled your eyes, noticing how Enzo flinched just slightly at your reaction, his gaze fixed on the way your fists clenched as you tried to hold yourself back. “Is that why you let that fucking girl throw herself at you?” You shot back, not really waiting for a response, as you took a step closer.

Enzo held your gaze, and for a moment, his usual charming smile faltered, replaced by something more vulnerable. But he quickly masked it with his familiar defiance, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes met yours with that challenge you knew all too well.

“Oh, come on!” He said, standing up from the chair with a bit of awkwardness, his eyes following you as you got closer, his throat tightening as he swallowed. For a moment, it was hard to tell if it was vulnerability or eagerness in his gaze, or maybe both. “She didn’t mean anything, and you know that,” he muttered, his voice dropping as he watched as you moved closer, his usual confidence flattering.

“That’s not the damn point, Lorenzo!” you snapped again, your frustration building as you stepped even closer, refusing to acknowledge the way his gaze lingered on you.

“It’s the fact that you let it happen, knowing damn well I was right there. You wanted me to get angry, just to see if I’d snap.” You stood before him now, your eyes burning into his, not ready to lose once again.

Enzo was beginning to get frustrated, hating how his mistakes and sick games were coming back to bite him, but that wasn’t what upset him the most. Under the surface, there was a part of him that wanted you to react like you always did—letting him take control of the situation, giving him the pleasure he craved. But another part of him couldn’t help but enjoy this side of you—the bitter, sour side.

It made him wonder how far you would go before it broke you or what you would do before that happened.

He continued to watch you carefully, his eyes flicking over your face as if searching for the reaction he so desperately craved. A hint of hesitation lingered in his posture. “Maybe I want that,” he admitted, barely above a whisper, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Maybe I wanted to see if you’d fight for me. If you'd... show me that I mean enough to you to get that reaction, like you always do.” Enzo continued, and you furrowed your brows.

You took another step closer, closing the distance between you, feeling your anger morph into something darker—something raw and almost intense, your heart racing. “You think I wouldn’t care?” you said, your voice low, but with a sharpness that even surprised you. “I’m your fucking girlfriend! You really think I’d just stand back and let you play your games without reminding you who you belong to?” You snapped, your words barely a whisper, fighting to keep control, but the edge in your voice betraying you.

A flash of surprise and excitement crossed Enzo’s face, and for a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something, to defend himself. But instead, he bit his lip, clearly satisfied with your response. His eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his hands gripping each other, as if holding himself back.

He wanted you so much in that moment that it made him feel sick with need.

You took another step, your chest now pressed against his, feeling his warm breath against your skin. “I don’t want to play games every day, Enzo,” you admitted softly, but your eyes mirrored the hunger and craving in his. As much as you loved the games, they were starting to tire you out. “I want you. All of you. Without having to fight for it every time.” You watched as he swallowed at your words.

He was starting to get heavier, his rational instincts slipping away, as if his brain was losing control. His hands were sweating, gripping each other tightly, his neck and body trembling, and his throat went dry as he fought to keep himself together.

Enzo didn’t know how much power words could have over him, how they could excite him to the core and strip away his rational thoughts. A part of him hated himself for how he used to take action instead of simply listening to what you had to say. He was sure his heart and veins might explode at any moment.

“Fuck, princess,” he muttered, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek, his touch almost tender. “You already have all of me.” He admitted, his breath ragged.

“I do?” you asked, your eyes lingering on his lips, the moment feeling almost obscene. But Enzo seemed too distracted.

“Heart, body, and soul,” he whispered, his voice steady but low, his breathing growing heavier with each word. “You can have me anytime. I’m yours to ruin.”

With that, you couldn’t take it anymore. Before he could say another word, you gripped his neck, pulling him toward you and kissing him with such intensity and dominance that he was sure he was losing himself in it.

The kiss was rough and erotic, like an inferno consuming you both from the inside out. Your boyfriend couldn’t help but gasp as he felt your nails scratching down the back of his neck, pulling him even closer against your body. You could feel his hard length pressing against you, but you didn’t care.

You continued to kiss Lorenzo, tongues tangling and teeth grazing each other as any hint of restraint vanished moments ago. Your bodies pressed together, harder with every second, until he could feel his pants growing painfully tight around him. You both savored the familiar flavor of each other, but there was a nostalgic hunger in this kiss, one that left you both drunk with need, as if it were the first time all over again.

You dragged your nails down his neck, marking his skin with fierce intent, and he felt himself surrendering further to your control, a thrill he hadn’t expected but now craved. It was as if he were letting your pent-up anger devour him, wild and unrestrained, leaving him utterly at your mercy.

And God knows he was loving every second of it.

The way you were consuming him felt maddening, and he clung to you desperately, as if you were the only thing keeping him alive. He’d forgotten how your tongue was the one that stole the air from his lungs, how your hands gripped and scratched at his neck. He was so lost in the sensation of your body against his that he didn’t even realize when you were both completely bare.

It wasn’t until your hard nipples brushed against his skin that he froze, a deep groan escaping him as he pulled away from the kiss, his tongue slipping from his mouth as he gasped for air.

Enzo looked at you, ignoring the pain in his neck as his eyes devoured your body with a familiar hunger. His tongue still hung from his mouth, and another moan slipped from his lips. Without warning, you moved closer, your tongue flicking out to tease his, dragging a slow, deliberate lick across it, making him groan again, unable to hold back.

He couldn’t help but feel his cock throbbing harder, knowing that if he looked down, he’d see it straining, bigger than it had ever been before.

But Enzo couldn’t help it. You’d never done that before. He’d never felt your tongue lick his, at least not when you weren’t kissing or tangled in one of your make-out sessions. This was different. You’d only given him a taste, and Lord knows how much he craved another. It was like you’d woken something deep hidden inside him.

“Again,” he almost begged, his voice thick with need. You looked at him, watching as he pushed his tongue out again, desperate. “Again, please,” he begged, his voice barely a whisper. You couldn’t help but smirk, grabbing his neck and pulling him closer, your tongue meeting his in a slow, teasing lick. You devoured his tongue, feeling the slickness of his muscle against yours, swallowing his moans as your tongue dominated his.

His hand gripped your ass, holding you against him as if he were trying to keep himself from collapsing. He let out a breath against your tongue when he felt your nails dragging over his skin, a sharp reminder that no matter how much he touched you, tonight he had no control over you.

And you couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction.

You kept licking his tongue with yours, savoring every bit of his taste, staying just far enough to keep from kissing him but close enough to feel the heat of his tongue. But now, it wasn’t just your tongues that were rubbing together. A moan escaped you, just like Enzo’s, as you felt his cock sliding against your bare pussy, his hips grinding, desperate to press himself deeper into you.

“Enzo,” you moaned, pulling your tongue from his and ignoring his desperate protest, too consumed by the way his cock pressed against you, even though he wasn’t inside yet. “Shit, Enzo, I need to ride you, fuck.” You moaned again, grinding your hips against his, your rhythm rougher, more demanding than his, taking control.

He moaned at your words, “Do it, oh please, do it.” Enzo gasped, letting himself be guided toward your bed, sitting at the edge as he gazed at your body, his legs growing weak from the soft blankets beneath him. But the softness of the sheets did nothing to ease his anxiety when his eyes locked on your glistening, bare pussy, soaked with desire. “Sit on me, please... Just let me be inside you,” he begged, his voice trembling, almost pathetic in its desperation.

You sat on his lap, both of you moaning as you felt his cock teasing your entrance, yet you didn’t let him inside—at least not yet. You let yourself play with him, grinding your hips against him, listening to his moans as his cock slid through your wet folds.

When he was on the edge of begging again, you finally gave him what he wanted, moaning as you sank down, feeling him stretch your walls, filling you completely.

“Fuck!” He screamed in a moan, his hands gripping your thighs as he felt you riding him, your hips moving back and forth, squeezing his cock in a way that made him gasp. “Your pussy feels so fucking good, princess,” he groaned, his voice broken. “So fucking tight… so good.”

You could see the tears in Enzo’s eyes, and it only made you ride him harder, faster, your hips grinding down on him with more force. You arched your back, feeling him get impossibly tighter inside you, your walls clenching around him as you moved.

You could feel him trembling beneath you, his body shaking as you rode him.

He was moaning loudly, unable to remember the last time you two had such passionate sex, but he was loving every fucking second of it. He didn’t care that he’d begged for you to ride his dick like this—what mattered was the way your cunt squeezed him, how your thighs wrapped tightly around his torso, the way your back arched as you moaned, and how close he was to fucking cumming.

It was too much; he needed to let go, to cum inside you.

“Princess, fuck… I need to cum, please, let me. He begged, tears slipping from his eyes as he spoke. But you pulled him closer, your arms tight around his neck, bringing his face to your hard nipples, letting him kiss and suck on them.

“Me too, me too,” you moaned, breath hot against his ear as you felt his mouth teasing your nipples, the sweet contrast to the filthy act you were both caught in. With each moan, his cock slid deeper, pressing harder into you. “Let’s cum together, okay?” you asked, and Enzo nodded eagerly, pulling you tighter against him as his hips ground against yours.

The pace quickened, rougher now, and soon you both came together, your bodies shaking as you reached your release. Breathing heavily.

Enzo looked up at you, breathing heavily, his eyes filled with tears. You had to fight the urge to come again from the sight of him, so you stayed silent, watching his desperate gaze. You could feel the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through both your bodies as his hands roamed your back, his eyes still full of hunger, the desire never fading. But you didn’t speak, letting him take the first step.

“I...” he began, his breath ragged as he struggled to speak. “Princess, let me clean you up, please,” he asked, almost whining. You blink softly, trying to process his request. “Let me eat your pussy; I’ll be quick, I promise,” he pleaded, his desperate chocolate eyes locking with yours. Seeing the need in his gaze, you couldn’t help but nod, giving in to his request.

Enzo let out a relieved sigh when you nodded, lifting you carefully off the bed and sitting you back where he had been. You felt his cum from the sheets smear against your thighs, a shiver running through your body as the sticky liquid made contact with your skin, making you gasp with the sensation.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you look so fucking good from here,” Enzo whispered, his eyes locked on you as he knelt between your legs. “Your pussy’s so damn pretty,” he murmured to himself, his hands slowly spreading your legs apart, making a shiver run through your body.

“Enzo,” you murmured in anticipation, feeling your throat salivate with need.

“Just a moment, I just need to look a little more,” he said, his eyes fixed on your pussy with pure craving, his chest rising and falling with each breath. “So fucking pretty,” he muttered, leaning in closer to your folds, his pupils dilating as he took in how wet you were. He couldn’t help but let out a groan, his fingers moving to touch you.

With his touch, you moaned, his fingers moving slowly from top to bottom as he felt your arousal from your first orgasm coating his fingers. You could feel his other hand on your thighs, his fingers teasing, almost reaching your ass.

Enzo brought one of his fingers to his mouth, sucking your release off with obscene eagerness, and you couldn’t help but grip the sheets tightly as you watched his tongue circle around his finger, savoring every drop. The other hand grabbing your tight again.

“Oh, princess, you’re so sweet,” he groaned, his face inching closer to your cunt. But before he could take his first lick, he paused, extending his arm and placing his fingers, still coated in your wetness, in front of your mouth. “Can you suck them for me, sweetheart? Please?” You nodded eagerly, sucking his fingers clean, and once they were coated with your saliva, he buried his face between your legs, the first lick merging with the next as he devoured you hungry.

That was heaven.

“Enzo!” you almost screamed as he licked and sucked your folds with feverish intensity, his nose pressing against your folds as his tongue plunged into your wet core. It was messy—so fucking messy—that he seemed lost between your legs, as if he wasn’t trying to escape, he wanted to stay there, devouring you, tasting you, being dragged into madness.

And you didn’t mind; your fingers tangling in his sweaty hair, pushing his face harder against your pussy as you screamed his name. You didn’t want him to stop, and even if you did, he wouldn’t. Not with the way his tongue was relentlessly devouring and penetrating your cunt with perfect precision. It was messy—wild—but he didn’t care, and you even less. He was lost in the sensation, giving everything he had to please you, and he loved every second of it.

Your taste was making Enzo moan, making him drunk with the flavor. He couldn’t help but moan against your pussy, the vibrations sending shivers through your body, causing you to moan uncontrollably. “Oh, princess, you have such a pretty moans,” he murmured against your pussy, savoring every drop of your previous release.

Without warning, you came hard against his mouth, screaming his name with fervor, and he swallowed everything he could, savoring all the screams, while the rest of your cum mixed with his own release, soaking the sheets beneath you both.

You could had cum again with the sight.

Enzo pulled away from you, your arousal still on his chin, breathing heavily as he stared up at you with his usual mischievous grin, all his begging going away. “You know, I think I should flirt with other girls more often,” he teased, his voice warm as he sat on the floor, his eyes locked on you still perched on the bed.

“Shut up!” You playfully kicked him, causing him to laugh. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but there was no real bite behind your words.

He laughed again, his gaze softening as he looked at you with love. And for the first time, you seemed to be looking forward for his next mistake.

Loving Lorenzo was intoxicating, but nothing made you feel more alive than he did.

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

this is my first lorenzo berkshire one-shot, so please be kind and respectful! also it’s 4 am so might have grammar mistakes.

thanks for being my fav beta readers: @bucksplum & @earth4angels love you both (a little) 🐣 < 3

#— ; 𝐳𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 🧳#lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire smut #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you

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violettwrites · 2 months ago

Text

a heart that knows — daryl dixon

a/n: sorry to the nonnie that requested this bcos i took forever 😭 it had been sitting in my drafts since i received it but i’ve been so focused on writing the first few chapters of dotd but here you go my sweet !

if you enjoy my writing, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment ! and give me a follow if you want to see more ! i really appreciate the support 🫶🏻

summary: daryl and reader were arguing when he moves too quickly and scares reader.

requested: anon requested ‘I would love to see something where tp!daryl and reader are arguing about something and he’s being expressive with his hands and she flinches out of instinct, and he realizes that things have gotten worse at home for her. He feels awful and ashamed so he makes it up to her by planning a special date and asks her to stay with him for a while and he promises her he won’t ever let anyone hurt her ever again. Just like super mega fluffy.’

warnings: mentions of abuse

word count: 1,056

resources: divider by @adornedwithlight

➵ mega masterlist

the sun was starting to set, casting a golden hue over the run down trailer park, and daryl’s voice echoed through the air as he paced in front of you. his hands waved in the air dramatically as he ranted about something—what, you couldn’t exactly remember. the heat of the argument had long since taken the actual topic of discussion and it had been twisted into something far deeper, emotions raw and rising between the two of you.

“ya just don’ get it, do ya?” daryl’s voice cracked with frustration, his hands slicing through the air. “i don’ understand why you gotta push me away all the time!”

the moment his hand moved to close, a reflex buried deep within you took over. you didn’t mean to flinch, but you did— just a little. the quick jerk of your body was instinctive, a reaction you’d honed after years of dodging your dad’s drunken outbursts. daryl’s hands froze mid air, his expression dropping immediately.

he saw it. he knew.

the silence between you both felt like a heavy weight. your eyes dropped to the gravel, cheeks burning with embarassment.

“i’m sorry,” you mumbled, trying to shake it off, but daryl was already moving closer, his earlier anger completely forgotten about. he reached out slowly, carefully, as if he didn’t want to startle you again. his calloused fingers brushed the side of your arm, and you glanced up to meet his worried blue eyes.

“hey…” his voice was soft now, barely above a whisper. “i didn’t mean to scare ya, i’m sorry.”

you nodded your head, but daryl wasn’t convinced. he could see it in the way you wouldn’t look at him directly, the way your body was still a little tense, like you were ready to flee if things went south. he swallowed hard, guilt clawing at him. he knew how you felt— life was the same for him.

“how’s… how’s your dad?” he asked, his voice rougher now, but not from anger. it was the kind of roughness that came from knowing too much, from understanding what he couldn’t fix on his own.

you shrugged, trying to keep it casual, but the walls you built up around yourself were thinner now, cracking under his concern. “he’s the same.”

daryl’s jaw tightened. he hated hearing that— how you tried to brush it off so casually. he knew “the same” meant worse, meant you were still walking on eggshells at home, trying not to provoke a man who had no right treating you— his own daughter the way he did. daryl knew about your situation from the day he had met you, but it still made his blood boil to think of anyone hurting you.

without another word, daryl pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively. you melted into him, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. his embrace was warm, solid, and safe— everything your home wasn’t.

“i hate that you gotta go through this,” he whispered into your hair. he knew it wasn’t easy, getting away from a home life like that. hell, he barely made it out alive himself. “i hate that ya flinch like that, like you’re expectin’ me to hurt ya. i’d never…”

you leaned your forehead against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your skin. “i know,” you whispered back. “i’m sorry.”

“don’ be,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “don’ you dare apologise for somethin’ that ain’t yer fault.”

you didn’t argue. there was no point. daryl could be stubborn, but when it came to you, he was also fiercely protective.

“i ain’t lettin’ you go back there tonight,” he added, his tone final. “yer stayin’ with me tonight, okay? merle’s out for the weekend. it’ll just be us.”

you blinked, caught off guard by his offer. “daryl, i can’t—“

“ya can,” he interrupted, his hands resting on your shoulders as he gazed down at you with such intensity that it made your heart race. “i don’ want ya goin’ back there. not tonight. not any night. hell, ya can stay here as long as ya want. we got room.” he was right. he and merle had finally gotten their own little trailer in the park— simply to try and avoid their own father. sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

your eyes welled up with emotion, the weight of everything hitting you all at once. “you really mean that?”

“‘course i do,” he cupped your cheeks gently, brushing a thumb over your skin. “i ain’t ever lettin’ anyone hurt you again.”

his words were more than a promise— they were a cow. you could see it in the way he looked at you, the way his rough exterior softened when he was with you. he meant every word.

a tear slipped down your cheek, but daryl wiped it away with a tender smile. “don’ cry, baby. you deserve better than all this crap.”

“i know, but—“ you swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to pull yourself together. “i don’t know what i’d do without you,” you admitted, your voice trembling with gratitude.

“you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that,” he said, his tone gentle but full of resolve. “i ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

he gave you a small smile, and the tension between you both finally began to dissolve. daryl wasn’t much of a planner, but the next words out of his mouth were proof that he’d been thinking about this for a while.

“tell ya what,” he said, nudging you playfully. “how ‘bout tomorrow, i take you out? just us. get away from this place for a while. i’ll take ya to that diner ya like, and we’ll watch that stupid movie yer been goin’ on about.”

you couldn’t help but laugh through your tears. “you hate that movie.”

“yeah, but i like ya, so i’ll suffer through it,” he teased, and just like that, the heavy mood lifted a little more.

you reached up, standing on your toes to press a soft kiss to his lips, and daryl’s arms tightened around you, holding you close. “thank you,” you whispered.

“for wha’?”

“for making me feel safe.”

daryl kissed the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. “always, darlin’. always.”

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dee-writes-angst · 2 months ago

Text

Winners, Losers, and Equal Opportunists (Eris Week Day Six)

FEATURING Lawyer!Eris Vanserra x Lawyer!Reader

SUMMARY You and Eris have been fighting over a case for days, both of you disagreeing on everything. You both hate each other and have many firey courtroom battles, but tonight something in Eris seems to snap, and as much as you hate him, you can't help but fan the flames.

CONTENT WARNINGS smut, p in v, unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, hate sex (hear the choir sing babes)

AUTHORS NOTE happy day six @erisweekofficial!!! This is my official apology letter for yesterday's devastation, hope you enjoy day six AU and retellings!!

You never thought you’d end up in this position. Not with him.

The tension in the conference room could be cut with a knife as you paced back and forth, barely containing your frustration. Eris Vanserra leaned back in his chair with that infuriatingly calm expression on his face, watching you with those fiery eyes that had been haunting your thoughts for weeks.

“This isn’t going to work,” you snapped, slapping a file down on the table. “Your approach is too reckless. We need something solid, not whatever this...this gamble is.”

Eris, always poised, cocked his head slightly, an almost amused glint in his eye. “If you’re finished throwing a tantrum, maybe you’ll see that my ‘reckless’ approach is what’s going to win this case. Playing it safe is what’s going to get us eaten alive.”

You shot him a glare, your blood boiling at his condescension. “I’m not playing it safe. I’m being smart. Something you clearly have trouble with.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into that maddening smirk. “Smart, sure. But you’re missing the point. Our client needs bold. Needs something that will shake them up, not lull them into complacency. But I don’t expect you to understand that.”

You clenched your fists, resisting the urge to throw the nearest object at his head. This was always the way with Eris—every word that left his mouth was designed to rile you up, to get under your skin, and it was working. You’d never met anyone who could simultaneously infuriate and intrigue you the way he did.

“I understand perfectly well,” you bit out. “I just don’t trust you.”

“Good,” he said, rising from his chair and stepping closer to you, his presence suddenly overpowering in the small space. “Because I don’t trust you either.”

You were inches apart now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, could see the way his eyes darkened as they roamed over your face. His expression was unreadable, but there was something there, something simmering beneath the surface that made your heart race despite your best efforts to keep your cool.

“This is never going to work if we don’t figure out how to be on the same page,” you said, your voice quieter now, but no less sharp.

Eris held your gaze, his jaw clenched slightly. “Maybe we’re not supposed to be on the same page. Maybe the way we fight is what’s going to win this.”

There was something in the way he said “fight,” something that made your breath hitch. You hated him. Hated his arrogance, his smugness, his ability to make you feel like you were always one step behind, and yet...you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted to his nearness, the way your skin tingled under his gaze.

“What exactly are we fighting for, Vanserra?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper now, the heat between you rising.

His eyes flicked to your lips for just a moment, but long enough to make your stomach flip. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Before you could process what was happening, his hand was on the back of your neck, pulling you toward him, and his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was fierce, full of the pent-up frustration that had been building between you for months. You pushed back just as hard, fisting your hands in his shirt, pouring all of your anger and desire into it.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, you stared at each other, both knowing that something had shifted between you. This wasn’t just about the case anymore. This was about the two of you, and neither of you was ready to admit what that meant.

“Still think we can’t work together?” Eris asked, his voice low and rough, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

You smirked, wiping the back of your hand across your swollen lips. “I guess we’ll find out.”

The tension in the room was palpable as you both stood there, your lips still tingling from the force of his kiss. You hadn’t planned on this. Not even close. Eris Vanserra had always been an opponent, a thorn in your side—someone who made every case feel like a battlefield. But now, everything had changed.

Eris didn’t step back. If anything, he moved closer, his breath warm against your cheek as his fingers brushed the side of your neck. His touch was surprisingly gentle for someone who had just kissed you like you were at war. And maybe you were. Maybe this was a fight neither of you were willing to lose.

“We need to focus on the case,” you muttered, though even you weren’t convinced by the words.

His thumb traced your jawline, his smirk returning. “Oh, I’m focused,” he said, his voice deep and steady, but there was a dangerous edge to it. “More focused than I’ve been in a while.”

You should’ve pulled away. Should’ve reminded him that this was strictly professional, that the high-profile case you were both working on would require every ounce of concentration. But instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, the warmth of his hand sending shivers down your spine.

“You think this is going to help us win?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Eris let out a low chuckle, his eyes darkening with something you hadn’t seen before. “Winning is all I care about,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “But this? This is something else entirely.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his hand slid down your arm, his touch igniting something inside you that you hadn’t expected. The frustration, the rivalry—it had all morphed into something else. Something electric.

You pressed your palms against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your hands. “Eris…”

He silenced you with another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate. It wasn’t a battle this time. It was something else—something that felt dangerously close to surrender. When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing hard, the space between you charged with an intensity that left you dizzy.

“You don’t like me, do you?” he asked, his tone teasing but his eyes searching yours for the answer.

You shook your head, a smirk pulling at your lips. “Not one bit.”

He grinned, his hand slipping down to your waist, fingers digging into your side. “Good. I don’t like you either.”

You bit your lip, trying to fight the pull you felt toward him. But it was impossible. The heat between you was undeniable, and no matter how much you tried to resist, it was too late. You’d crossed a line, one that neither of you could uncross.

“We’re going to regret this,” you said, though your body betrayed you by pressing even closer to him.

“Maybe,” he replied, his voice a soft rumble in your ear. “But not tonight.”

And just like that, you let go. Let go of the rivalry, the tension, the careful walls you had built around yourself. You gave in to the way his hands gripped your hips, the way his lips tasted of fire and defiance. You kissed him back, your frustration melting into something raw and undeniable.

The room felt too small, too hot, and you could barely think as his hands roamed your body, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you. Your back hit the conference table with a soft thud, and you gasped against his lips, the sudden sensation sending a thrill through you.

His lips moved to your neck, teeth grazing your skin as his hands slipped under your blouse. “This isn’t just about winning anymore, is it?” you breathed, half-dazed by the way his fingers traced your spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“No,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot. “This is about you. About us.”

You found yourself lying on the cool surface of the conference room table, your breath coming in shallow gasps as Eris leaned over you. His hands were firm on your hips, pinning you in place as his lips traced a slow, deliberate path down your neck. There was an undeniable hunger in his eyes, something primal lurking beneath his normally polished demeanor, and it set every nerve in your body alight.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his voice low, laced with arrogance as his lips hovered just above your collarbone, “does it bother you that I’m about to make you cum right where we’ve been fighting for days?”

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you with a shiver that ran from the top of your spine down to your toes. “You think you can make me cum that easily?” you shot back, voice breathless but still defiant.

A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I know I can.”

Before you could respond, he shifted his position, his hands sliding up your thighs, spreading them apart. His touch was both commanding and gentle, igniting a war of emotions within you. A part of you wanted to push him away, to maintain control of the situation—but the other part, the part that had been locked in this electric tension for months, wanted nothing more than to let go.

Eris’s eyes met yours, burning with intensity as he leaned down, his lips hovering just above the inside of your thigh. “I want to hear you beg for it,” he said, his voice a low growl.

You glared at him, though the tremble in your legs betrayed your anticipation. “I don’t beg,” you hissed, your voice shaky despite your best efforts to sound composed.

His fingers pressed deeper into your skin, making you gasp. “We’ll see about that,” he whispered, his lips curving into a wicked grin.

With that, he lowered his head, his mouth pressing against your most sensitive spot, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through your entire body. You bit down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to spill out, unwilling to give him the satisfaction so soon. But as his tongue moved with expert precision, teasing and tormenting you in equal measure, you felt your resolve slipping away with every passing second.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he worked, his movements relentless. He was determined to make you come undone right there on the table, the same place where you had once sparred verbally, the tension between you always on the verge of boiling over. Now, it had.

“You’re not so tough now, are you?” Eris muttered, his words vibrating against your skin, pulling a ragged gasp from your throat.

“Shut up,” you managed, though your voice was strained, breathless.

He chuckled, low and dark, clearly reveling in your struggle to keep control. “You’re close, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone teasing, full of smug satisfaction. “You can’t hold out much longer. I can feel it.”

You wanted to fire back, to throw something sharp and cutting at him, but the way he moved was driving you closer and closer to the edge, making it impossible to focus on anything but the white-hot pleasure building inside you.

His name slipped from your lips in a desperate whisper, and that was all it took for him to push you over the edge, your body tensing beneath him as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your hand reached down to grip his hair, holding him in place as you rode out the intense sensations, your breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts.

When you finally came down from the high, your body still trembling in the aftermath, Eris pulled back, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He was grinning, thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Looks like I was right,” he said smugly, standing up and pulling you with him. “I always win.”

Still trying to catch your breath, you glared at him. “This doesn’t mean you’ve won anything.”

He raised an eyebrow, his hands resting on your waist, keeping you pressed against the edge of the table. “Oh, really? I think it means I’ve won more than just this case.”

Your body still hummed with lingering heat, but your mind was far from satisfied. Eris stood there, smug and insufferable, the smirk on his face only fueling the fire of frustration that burned deep inside you. Every inch of him dripped with arrogance, from the way his shirt clung to his chest to the flash of his amber eyes, daring you to say something, do something.

And you did.

Without a second thought, you pushed him back, catching him off guard as his back hit the edge of the conference table. Before he could even utter a smart remark, you were on him, pushing him down onto the table, the sound of papers scattering across the surface filling the room.

“Think you’ve won, do you?” you growled, straddling him, your hands pressed against his chest as you pinned him beneath you. “Think you can just play me like that?”

His breath hitched for just a moment, but then that damn grin returned. “Oh, I know I can,” he retorted, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “And you’re just proving me right.”

Fury and desire collided within you, and you didn’t care about being careful or controlled anymore. This was about dominance—about taking back the power he so smugly thought he held over you.

“You’re so full of yourself,” you spat, leaning over him, your lips brushing his ear, hot with the promise of payback. “Let’s see if you’re still so cocky when I’m done with you.”

Before he could reply, you took control, grinding your hips against him with deliberate force, relishing the sharp inhale he couldn’t suppress. His grip tightened on your waist, but you ignored it, setting a relentless pace that had him pinned beneath you, powerless to resist.

“Keep talking,” you taunted, your voice low, breathy, “if you think you can.”

Eris bit down on his lip, his jaw tight as he tried to maintain his composure. “You think this puts you in charge?” he rasped, his voice rough with restraint. “You’ve got no idea who you’re dealing with.”

But you didn’t back down. If anything, his challenge only spurred you on, driving you to move faster, harder, each motion fueled by the need to take back every shred of control he thought he held over you.

“I think I know exactly who I’m dealing with,” you shot back, your hands sliding up his chest, nails digging in just enough to leave a mark. “A man who’s too used to getting his way.”

He grunted, his hands moving up your sides, trying to gain some semblance of control, but you wouldn’t let him. You were relentless, pushing him to the edge, refusing to give him a moment to catch his breath.

Eris’s head tilted back, his chest rising and falling heavily beneath you, but his eyes never left yours, still blazing with that fire, still refusing to surrender. “I’m not—done yet,” he managed between breaths, his voice low and strained.

“Neither am I,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss him—hard, biting, all teeth and dominance, swallowing the groan he tried to hold back.

His hands gripped you tighter, fingers digging into your skin, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was the heat between you, the rush of power, the frantic energy that wouldn’t let either of you rest until every last drop of tension was burned away.

“You’re gonna beg before I’m done,” you growled against his lips, savoring the taste of his frustration, the roughness of his breath against your skin.

Eris’s laugh was breathless, taunting. “We’ll see who’s begging,” he muttered, his hands trying to take control, but you pushed them back down, claiming every inch of dominance you could take.

The room was filled with the sounds of heavy breaths, low growls, and the relentless friction between your bodies. The intensity only heightened the moment—the push and pull between hatred and passion, between control and surrender. Neither of you was willing to back down, each action sharper, more forceful than the last, as if every movement could prove who had the upper hand.

Eris’s eyes burned with frustration and lust, the amber depths darkened by desire he couldn’t suppress. Every attempt he made to regain control was swiftly shut down by you—your body pushing him further into submission, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling, demanding.

“Still think you’ve got the upper hand?” you taunted breathlessly, your voice raw from exertion. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way his body responded, even as he fought against it.

“Shut up,” he growled back, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, but you only grinned, loving how even now, he couldn’t stop trying to defy you.

The table beneath you creaked with the force of your movements, every thrust, every grind as carnal as it was angry. There was no tenderness here—just a raw, primal need to claim and conquer.

Eris’s breathing grew more ragged, his control slipping with each passing second, but he refused to let you see him fall apart completely. Not yet.

“You’re going to—” he started, his voice cracking with effort, but you didn’t let him finish. You pushed down harder, forcing a strangled gasp from his lips as his back arched against the table. His body betrayed him, every muscle taut, every nerve aflame as you took everything from him, leaving no room for composure or pride.

“Say it,” you hissed, your mouth close to his ear, teeth grazing the skin as you demanded what he was too stubborn to give.

But Eris wasn’t one to break so easily. His hands slid up your thighs, rough and possessive, his breath hot against your neck as he growled, “You first.”

The challenge hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved, the tension vibrating between your bodies like a live wire, ready to snap. Then, with a sudden rush of fury and desire, you slammed your hips down, pushing him beyond his limits.

The noise he made—half growl, half groan—was enough to tell you that he was done fighting it. His body shuddered beneath you, and for a split second, you saw him—Eris Vanserra—completely undone. His grip on you tightened, almost painfully so, as the last of his resistance crumbled.

You were right there with him, the heat between you reaching its peak, a raw, burning crescendo that tore through the both of you. It was desperate, angry, and unforgiving, every ounce of tension you’d held between you spilling out in a fierce, carnal release.

For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you—nothing but the fire of your bodies, the breathless sounds of exertion, and the reckless, frantic need to claim, to possess, to win.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

You both stayed still for a few moments, panting heavily, the table beneath you creaking with every shallow breath. The air between you was thick with the remnants of your intensity, but the anger—the fire—hadn’t entirely faded.

You pulled yourself off him, both of you still raw with adrenaline, still caught in the aftermath of everything that had just happened.

“Don’t think this changes anything,” you muttered, wiping a hand across your mouth as you tried to steady your breathing.

Eris chuckled, his voice rough and hoarse. “Trust me, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

But the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his chest still heaved beneath the thin sheen of sweat, told you this was far from over. Neither of you had truly won—and you weren’t sure if either of you ever would.

ERIS WEEK TAGLIST

@littlest-w01f @mp-littlebit

#fanfic #x reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acourtofthornsandroses #acosf #eris imagine #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vandaddy #erisweek2024 #eris fanfic #eris smut #high lord of autumn #acotar smut

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cowboyemeritus · 5 months ago

Text

Il Suo Campione (Copia/Reader)

Chapter One

Series Masterlist

Summary: After another victory in the ring, your manager, Copia, makes sure you’re taken care of. (18+)

Content Warning: smut, violence, graphic descriptions of injuries, references to organized crime, drug use, ethically dubious relationship

Read on AO3

Notes: Howdy, everyone! WE ARE SO BACK (for now, at least)! A lot has happened since I last wrote something for you all (graduated college, got a job, moved across the country, etc.), but I got really excited about this idea and couldn’t stop myself. I’m considering turning this into a series, so if you thought this was cool please lmk!

GIF is by @ghuleh-recs :)

You’ve got this bitch licked.

She’s up against the ropes, desperately trying to protect her face as you pummel her over and over again. There’s blood streaming down from her nose, mouth, and a large gash on her hairline. You can tell it’s hard for her to see with how much is in her eyes. One of her front teeth is chipped.

It’s the fifth of five rounds. Thirty seconds left on the clock. Up until now it’s been a pretty close fight. She’s one of the tougher opponents you’ve faced and you’re in equally rough shape. Your split lip stings with every breath, and your nose will definitely need to be set after this. It only adds fuel to the fire of your rage.

You’ll win. Despite being evenly matched, you’ve managed to get in more solid hits, especially in the last two rounds. This girl is a fucking idiot, insulting you like she did.

“At least I don’t have to fuck my manager for table scraps.”

This isn’t about winning anymore. This is about making her suffer.

All you need is a well-timed right hook. You hit her directly on the temple, and she crumples to the ground. The crowd screams their applause, but you can’t hear it over the blood roaring in your ears. Before anyone can interfere, you’re on top of her, landing hit after hit in rapid succession. You want to beat her face in, to turn her into a bloody pulp.

It takes several men to finally pry you off of her.

“Fucking bitch!” You continue to thrash and curse as the referee and the unconscious woman’s manager kneel by her side, checking to make sure she’s still alive. When your opponent finally sits up, you redouble your efforts to break free. She starts to crawl away from you. There is genuine fear in her eyes, the sclera now red with blood. It’s not until you feel a firm hand on your shoulder that you finally still.

“That’s enough, dolcezza.”

Copia is looking down at you, a bemused look on his face. Still restrained, you rise to your feet. You spit a glob of bloody saliva towards your defeated foe, looking her up and down one last time.

Serves her right.

The manager, a hairy man with a misshapen face, points a finger at you, glaring daggers.

“Control your fucking dog, Emeritus.” His entire body shakes with anger. “Or I will have her put down.”

Before the situation can escalate, the men transfer you to Copia, who keeps his composure as always. Grasping your wrist, he raises it in the air and the crowd cheers again. A moment later, his gloved hand finds your waist, pulling you into his side as he whisks you away, leading you out of the ring towards the makeshift locker room. The feeling of his body against yours is grounding, eating away at the rage boiling inside.

“You did well tonight,” he says quietly in your ear. “The Boss will be pleased.”

The crowd is already clearing out of the abandoned warehouse, few willing to risk being caught by the authorities. Some linger, money and drugs moving from hand to hand. You’re about halfway to your destination when one of the loiterers, a man with dark hair and a scruffy beard, intercepts you.

“What an amazing fight,” he exclaims. You detect a slight southern drawl. Copia gives him a polite, reserved smile, and you feel him squeeze your hip.

“What can I say? There is no fighter quite like mine.”

His.

“Indeed,” the man says. Finally, he regards you. “That’s why I always bet on you, darling.”

You mumble out a quiet “thank you,” as you’ve been coached. There’s a moment of tense silence as you wait for the man to get to his inevitable point. He’s jittery, dilated eyes darting around wildly. You know why he, and all these other men, are really here.

It's not your athleticism.

“You know,” he continues, returning his attention to Copia, “I'm quite interested in the particulars of the sport and would love to pick this little lady’s brain. If we could have some time one-on-one, I would-”

“Thank you,” Copia interjects, “but we will have to decline.” Seemingly unfazed, the man takes a wad of cash out of his coat pocket, offering it to your manager with an unsteady hand.

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

Copia’s tranquil demeanor finally cracks.

“She’ll bite your dick off, DeFroque. Now get lost.” For emphasis, you jerk towards him a little, snapping your bloody teeth together. DeFroque jumps back in surprise, paralyzed for a moment. Without another word, he turns tail and flees.

“Quel cocainomane...” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s clean you up.” You nod in assent, and the two of you resume your journey.

The “locker room” is really a grimy old office at one end of the warehouse. It's empty save for a battered old desk and a rusty filing cabinet, the floor covered in chips of yellowed paint. The fluorescent lights flicker as Copia sits you down on the desk and begins inspecting your face. He grasps your chin, turning your head side to side. You want to lean into his touch, but remain pliant for him.

“You’re allowed to defend yourself,” he remarks, examining a pink welt on your cheek. He breaks away to dig through one of the drawers, producing a small hand towel, cotton balls, bandages, and rubbing alcohol a moment later.

You shrug. “I like offense.” Copia’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“That’s why you always draw the biggest crowds, cara.”

Uncapping the bottle, he thoroughly soaks one of the cotton balls. Tilting your head up, he dabs it on the bridge of your nose. You hadn’t even noticed the skin had broken. The alcohol stings, but you remain still, used to the sensation. There’s a comfortable silence as Copia cleans the blood from the rest of your face, taking extra care around each cut and bruise. He has always insisted on caring for you in this way, despite being able to do it yourself. You’ve learned to let him, and savor every touch like it’s a gift.

Copia moves from your face to your hands. You offer them to him as he carefully unwinds the tape around your wrists and thumbs. Knowing the routine by heart, you slowly rotate and bend them to show him they feel alright. Copia nods in approval. With the towel, he dabs at your knuckles, wiping away your opponent’s blood until the skin is visible again. He shoots you an interrogative look when he sees they’re all split.

“She made me mad.” Copia sighs. You both know that in an official boxing league, this kind of behavior would be enough to keep you from ever setting foot in the ring again.

“Amore, what am I going to do with you?”

Now it’s your least favorite part. Copia gestures for you to lay back on the desk and despite the gnawing feeling of dread you obey, legs dangling off the edge. Hovering over you, you can’t help but gaze up at him, admiring the contours of his face. You feel the urge to run your hands through his mousy brown hair, but he’s already reaching for your broken nose. You jolt when he finally makes contact, writhing a little beneath him. He tuts.

“Stay still.” It’s all but a whisper.

There’s a faint crunching noise as Copia pokes and prods at your nose with experienced fingers. You do as he commands, balling your fists and gritting your teeth at the sensation of bone and cartilage moving. Once he’s satisfied with the positioning, he packs your nostrils with cotton, then gently places a bandage over the break, securing your nose in place.

“There,” he coos. “Not so bad, eh?” You glower at him and he chuckles. You think Copia is going to let you sit up but he doesn’t move, looking down at you with an interested look in his peculiar, mismatched eyes. He brushes some loose hairs away from your face and runs his thumb across an undamaged section of your cheek. Planting his hand next to your head, the other finds your opposite hip, effectively pinning you to the desk. You don’t resist when he leans down, pressing his mouth into yours. He’s forceful, enough to agitate your split lip, but careful to avoid bumping into your nose. Closing your eyes, you take in the lingering minty taste on his lips, instinctively parting yours at the feeling of his tongue prodding at you. Unconsciously, your thighs press together.

Copia’s tongue is gentle in its exploration. It crosses your mind that your mouth is still bloody and you are in desperate need of a shower, but clearly he doesn’t mind. With the hand at your hip, he begins to lightly trace the waistband of your shorts, his index finger running along the edge. The two of you remain like this for what feels like forever until, unable to breathe through your packed nose, you start to tremble from the lack of oxygen. Having mercy on you, he breaks away. While you desperately catch your breath, he takes the tip of a gloved finger between his teeth, pulling the garment off to expose his bare hand. It quickly returns to its place, this time right above the apex of your thighs. Smothering you with his mouth once again, Copia swallows your quiet moan as he reaches down to grab at your core. You want to pull him closer, but the second you try to reach around with your free arm he grabs your wrist.

“Let Papa take care of you.”

With no other choice, you lay back as he massages you through the fabric of your shorts. You’re practically melting under his touch, your aches and pains fading until they’re nothing but background noise. The fight itself seems so far way, as if it happened in another life. You can’t imagine why you were so angry before. Right now, Copia is at the center of your whole world, like he is, and always has been, the only thing that matters.

When he finally slips his hand under the elastic to touch you directly, you moan for him again. He traces your clit with his middle finger, dipping down to feel and gather the wetness of your cunt. Your self-control slips, and you grind your hips up into his touch. Seemingly satisfied with your state of arousal, Copia withdraws, sliding an arm under your body and lifting you so that you’re sitting upright. You swing your legs over the other side of the desk so that you’re face-to-face. Copia removes his other glove, placing it next to you before gripping the waistband of both your shorts and underwear. Planting your feet, you just barely lift your ass off the table, allowing him to pull the garments down. You have to kick off your slides so that he can completely remove them, dropping them on the floor next to the desk.

The anticipation is heavy as you watch Copia free himself from the confines of his well-tailored suit pants. His cock is thick and hard, immediately springing forth when he unzips his fly. The tip is flushed a light purple and already beading with precum. You swallow down the saliva rapidly accumulating in your mouth, wanting to reach out and touch him but knowing to let him lead. Sure enough, he takes a small step forward, slotting himself between your parted legs. His hands find the underside of your thighs, lifting them up to rest on his hips. You fall back, propping yourself up on your forearms. The desk is just the right height where he has perfect access to your entrance, and you shudder at the sensation of his cock teasing your folds.

Copia drapes himself over you as he slides inside your wet heat, claiming your mouth again. He fucks like you fight, hard and fast, snapping his hips with an unparalleled ferocity. The force is enough to move you back and forth on the desk, and your already exhausted arms begin to wobble with overexertion. When they finally give out you fall back, nearly smacking your head. You just barely manage to catch yourself.

“Dolcezza, you make Papa a very happy man. You know that?” You nod and Copia rewards you with a well-angled thrust, hitting a spot that has you convulsing under him. He hums, satisfied by your response. Still pounding into you, he grabs onto your sports bra, dragging it upwards to expose your breasts. They bounce each time his hips drive forward, the cool air immediately pebbling your nipples. He pinches one of the pink buds, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and you gasp, back arching off the desk.

“Fuck!” It comes out like you’ve been kicked in the chest. You can feel the tension building in the pit of your stomach, pulling tight like a rubber band. Copia’s pleasure is evident on his face, his brow furrowed and cheeks flushed. Small droplets of sweat bead at his graying temples.

“You always — Fuck! — You always fight so well for me.”

Slowly, his hand trails down to where the two of you meet. His thumb begins to trace tight circles around your clit, compelling your body to contract around him.

“Papa-”

“Where would I be without you, mia campionessa?”

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, crashing down like a tidal wave. You thrash wildly on the desk, a hand clapping over your mouth to stifle a long string of moans. Copia follows not long after, spilling inside you with a low groan. For a moment, everything is still. You gaze up at him, spellbound. The florescent lights create a blueish halo around his form and with the flush still decorating his cheeks, he’s practically glowing. You know he won’t kiss you again, but when he withdraws entirely, tucking his soft cock away, the disappointment still stings. Unable, as always, to find the right words, you bite back the feeling and silently get up. Going through the motions, you let Copia assist in making you presentable again. You’re acutely aware of his seed dripping out of you, but choose to pull your shorts and underwear back on before he can address it. From a hook on the door he retrieves your jacket and sweatpants. He’s halfway through pulling on his own coat when there’s a knock.

“Yes?”

“Sir,” a muffled voice announces. “The earnings are secure. Car is ready for you.”

“Bene. We will be along soon.” He looks to you, offering you his arm. You take it like it’s a lifeline. “Let’s go home, dolcezza.”

#the band ghost #the band ghost x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #my writing #you guys we are so back

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sorinethemastermind · 26 days ago

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Trick or treat!

You pick all!

Well then... I suppose I'll reward you with a trick 😈 (idk if I'd call this a reward, actually. It's pretty angsty)

──────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───────────

Rayla fought against her bindings, the unyielding metal rubbing her wrists raw. "Come... on!" she growled, yanking desperately one last time before slumping back against the wall.

"You're only going to hurt yourself." Soren said from his place beside her.

"We can't do nothing."

"They'll find us." Soren said, voice sure. But when she turned to argue with him she could see the worry in his eyes. Rayla sighed. Snapping at Soren wouldn't make anything better.

"That's what I'm worried about." she admitted. "That they'll come for us, and he'll use us against them. That... that I'll have to do something I don't want to do."

"Hey." Soren bumped her with his foot. It was all he could do. "You're Rayla. He can't make you do anything."

"Not... Aaravos." Rayla muttered, the name like poison on her tongue. "I- I promised Callum I would-"

Her voice died in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut, not even wanting to imagine. She could feel Soren's worried gaze on her, but she couldn't meet his eyes as she continued;

"I promised I would kill him."

She heard the sharp intake of breath at her words, the confusion and horror in Soren's stare. And it all tumbled out;

"I promised that, if Aaravos took control somehow, I would stop him. I would make sure he couldn't be used to hurt anyone he loved. Except... except he's someone I love, Soren!" Rayla exclaimed, all the weeks of fear boiling to the surface now that she couldn't ignore it anymore; couldn't pretend it wasn't a possibility. "I don't think I could live with myself if I did that to him, but... how could I live with myself knowing I broke my one promise to him?"

Her voice died off into a broken whisper, and for a long moment Soren didn't say anything. Then she heard the sound of metal clanking against stone as he stretched over to her, straining against the cuffs to press his shoulder against her's. She leaned into him, grateful for any semblance of comfort.

"It won't come to that." he said softly. "I promise."

They stayed like that until they heard the sound of someone coming, at which point Soren quickly moved back to where he'd been. But the footsteps didn't belong to Aaravos.

"Callum!" Rayla exclaimed, forgetting the chains in her haste to reach him. They pulled her back to the ground as quickly as she shot to her feet, throwing her down again to the cold stone of the floor. "Callum, is it really you?"

He tried to smile at her, but something was wrong, she could tell as soon as he set foot through the doorway and into the flickering torchlight of the dungeon.

"Callum?"

He staggered towards her, fists clenched, knuckles white. There was blood on him and for a moment she feared the worst, but she couldn't see any wounds. Not his blood, she realized, relief giving way to horror. But there's so much of it.

"Rayla. It's going to be okay." he whispered as he reached towards her, voice hoarse. And that was when she saw his eyes. Solid black, with just a pinprick of white where the pupil should have been. She gasped.

"Callum! What did you do?"

"You're going to be okay." he said again. "That's all.. that's all that matters."

He fumbled in the pouch on his belt and withdrew a key, his hands shaking as he used it to unlock first her cuffs, and then Soren's. As soon as he was done she went to him, taking his face in her hands and looking deep into his eyes. The inky blackness stared back, unfeeling. A tear slipped down his cheek and she wiped it away.

"Oh, Callum." she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close and burying her face in his neck. Her grip tightened, but it wasn't enough, she could feel him slipping away.

"Ez..." he said, voice thick, as though his words were wading through deep water. "Ez is upstairs. He'll.. he'll get you out."

"You're coming with me." Rayla said, lifting her head up to look at him, tears rolling freely down her face. "I'm not leaving you. Never again. We'll figure this out-"

"He's-" Callum stopped, his hand clenching where it clasped her own. He fought through it. "He's still out there. I only... I only wounded him."

"No-"

"You promised, Rayla."

"Callum, please." her voice broke, anything else she might have wanted to say devolving into uncontrollable sobs. She felt his hands spasm again, nails digging into her skin, and he broke away from her; staggered back against the wall.

"No. No, you're not going to win. Not this time, not ever." Callum spat, clutching at his head. "You're not going to use me ever again!"

There was a hand on Rayla's shoulder and she spun, reaching instinctively for blades that were no longer there. But it was Soren, his face a mask of pain. As their eyes met it melted away, replaced by a sad smile.

"Rayla." he said, and his smile wobbled. But he kept it there anyway, trying to stay strong for her. "You should go."

"Soren, I-"

"You should go." he said again, more forcefully this time. "You... you don't want to be here for this."

Callum's voice cut through the momentary silence before Rayla could say anything, his words like little daggers being pushed into her chest, one after the other. "He really would do anything for you, wouldn't he?"

Rayla shivered. She hated the sound of his words in Callum's mouth; mocking and vile. The man she loved would never sound like that. She turned to try and face him, but Soren's grip tightened on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Don't. This shouldn't be the last way you see him."

"But Callum-" she sobbed, seething with anger and frustration and fear. That aching helplessness welling up inside her, threatening to swallow her whole.

"You should go." Soren said again, his words simple, his meaning plain. "It's what he'd want."

He released her then, leaving the decision in her hands. She staggered away from them both, bitter tears running down her face as she ran for the stairs. She could hear Callum laughing behind her, his voice twisted and strange.

She could practically hear his voice in her ears. The Moonshadow Assassin who, can this be right? Is incapable of killing. And then she did hear it, following her up the stairs;

"Ah, the Failed Son. Come to finish what you started?"

Rayla ran, away from the man she loved, and away from the promise she couldn't keep. She ran and she didn't look back.

#enjoy your trick! 👻#don't know if what I'm giving you is enjoyment #rayllum fic #rayllum #soren tdp #rayla tdp #platonic sorayla

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darkroomkisses · 1 year ago

Text

Teacher’s Pet (Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader)

A/N: Woooo I'm back with a little CollegeAU fic feat. Bully!Rafe Cameron. <3

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON/ DUB-CON !Read at your own risk!

Words: 3.1k / Proofread once!

Banner by @straywords 🥀

Summary: Bully!Rafe Cameron and you get paired together for a class project. This gives Rafe the opportunity to fuck with you in the worst way yet.

Rafe languidly ran his hand up and down his cock. His thoughts possessed with images of you. The Cameron's Estate was quiet, it was late. Rafe was lying in bed. He imagined you on your knees kissing his cock from his tip to his balls. Flicking your tongue over his most sensitive spots. He hated how you consumed his thoughts almost every day.

He would never admit how much he wanted you. It made him livid; he despised you since you were in high school. Now you were in college, sitting in the same classroom as him. His hate morphed into something dark. He had fantasies of having you under him and under his control. He knew you thought you were better than him, you walked into class everyday ready to conquer the day.

He thought it was pathetic and meaningless to care so much as grades and being elite. He stroked harder, biting his lip to keep quiet, his thoughts overflowing with putting you in your place.

Finally, you’re not in control, wedged in a situation you can’t get out of. Rafe imagined your eyes wet with tears, throat tightening, hollowed cheeks as he forced himself deep in your wet mouth. His strong grip on your hair, keeping you in place. His stride speeds up ready to release. An image of you looking up at him nervous and damaged, makes him explode, panting hard he lets out a sigh pleased but not satisfied. He was still aching because he desired the real thing and couldn’t wait much longer.

The next day gave Rafe the opportunity he’s been waiting for. Rafe watched as you walked into class, your head held high, beaming with excitement for the day. He was annoyed already, what did you have to be so bubbly about?

You greeted Mr. Bennett, smiling so sweetly in his face. Rafe knows that fucker would love a chance to play with an innocent little thing like you. You were so naïve. Mr. Bennett was one of the younger teachers at the school. Bright eyed new teacher who didn’t have the years of experience wearing him down yet. He had dark hair, a solid build. Rafe would admit that, but Rafe knew he was better than him. He was richer and hotter, what’s the competition? But the way he touched your shoulder made his blood boil. He hated the way Mr. Bennett interacted with you. He clenched his fists. You made your way to your seat in front of rafe, Not even sparing him a glance, but his eyes don’t leave you.

“Can anyone answer my question?” Your teacher looks around the wide classroom, full of students with bored expressions and heads down. Your hand shoots up and you answer correctly.

“Very good dear.” He smiles at you then continues the discussion.

You hear a scoff behind you. Your heartbeat quickens, feeling your skin prickle. You already know that it’s no one other than Rafe Cameron, your bully. Your number one tormentor.

You don’t turn around or make acknowledgement that you notice it. He leans forward, his scent invading your personal space.

“Fucking teacher’s pet. Probably fucking him too.” He hisses at you leaning back into his seat. You shudder at his words. You’re angry at yourself for letting such juvenile words get to you. You sit up straight, pretending to not give a fuck.

Mr. Bennett announces “Okay, students” He claps his hands together gathering everyone’s attention. “I’m assigning partners for our next project.”

You try not to let your face drop. The class breaks out in groans. Mr. Bennett laughs, calming the class down. and calls out the pairs. You nervously shake your leg waiting for your name. Tapping your fingers on your laptop. “Alright, Rafe Cameron and Y/N L/N.” Your heart sinks. That familiar scent fills your nose again.

“Looks like were partners, teacher’s pet.”

The feeling like you just got punched in the gut hits you hard. The rest of the class goes by in a blur. Your mind racing with ways to get out of this. Mr. Bennett dismisses the class. You stand up quickly, ready to bolt. Rafe is right behind you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Of course, I get paired with the fucking nerd, fuck it.” He sighs dramatically.

“My house. Tomorrow at 5.” Rafe says impudently.

You gape at him taken aback by his words, you try to force a smile, ignoring his insults.

“Oh um, I thought we could just meet at the library or something. Coffee shop maybe?”

Rafe looks at you with disgust like you just said the stupidest thing ever.

“What did I just say? My house at 5.” He bumps your shoulder on his way out the door. You clench your jaw. You take a deep breath and make your way out the door.

You’re standing outside the front door on the massive Cameron's estate. Uneasiness fills your body; you take a deep breath before your fist raps on the door. You hoped no one would answer, and you wouldn’t have to face the darkness that is rafe cameron. The door swings open quickly, startling you. A beat passes you don’t move or blink.

“You just gonna stand there looking stupid or come inside?” Rafe stares down at you as you shift your feet, trying to will yourself to move. He looks at you expectingly, you slowly walk past him standing in the doorway watching you. You stand in the hallway in awe from the beauty of his home. It’s quiet and clean and massive. You clear your throat when you hear the front door close and lock.

Rafe makes his way to the couch; your eye catches the open beer on the table and the half smoked joint. You twist your face at that. You follow him sitting to the far side of the couch. Rafe moves closer to you, enclosing the little space keeping you apart.

Rafe looks you up and down, you were wearing shorts and a short sleeve shirt. The heat making it impossible to really cover up. His eyes lingering on your bare thighs and moves up to your chest. You were distracted from rummaging through your bag taking out the study materials.

Rafe couldn't care less about the project, but thankful this gave him an excuse to be alone with you. He shifts in the seat and his thighs pressed harder against yours. He feels himself getting worked up by the slightest movement. He was dying to touch you. Your laptop sits on your lap, explaining the work you started, Rafe barely gives you more than a few grunts of acknowledgement.

“So, you see this is the conflict and we need to offer a more detailed explanation and-’’ You stop taking when you feel Rafe’s fingers lazily brush your bare thigh. Rafe’s eyes are low. He wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. Too preoccupied with his own thoughts. Your eyes flashed to the beer; it was long gone. Your stomach dropped.

“Rafe.” You said making him look at you.

“Don’t…” You try to push his hand off you. The way you said his name set fire to Rafe’s grip, making him grasp firmer. He took his other hand to touch your face, he was looking into your eyes.

“What the fuck-’’ You were cut off quickly by Rafe roughly kissing you. You used all your strength to push him back.

“Get the hell off” you demand, instinctively wiping your mouth.

Keeping him away at arm’s length. Rafe looks at your mad expression.

“So, you’ll let that dick Mr. Bennett touch you but I can’t?” Rafe spits out, anger lacing his words. You looked confused, not understanding his rage. He stands up, pacing back and forth.

“He’s-he’s our teacher Rafe, that’s all.” You move the laptop to the table.

“Fuck that. I see the way he looks at you. I bet he dreams about bending your smartass over his desk and fucking you stupid.” Rafe says crudely. He was in front of you now. Close. Too close.

You sit stunned for a beat. You’re perplexed and a little frightened. Why was Rafe Cameron trying to kiss you? and why was he jealous of your teacher? It was all too much. You manage to spit out some words.

“What? Mr. Bennett is a great guy and not a sick weirdo like you like to imagine. You’re acting fucking crazy Rafe!”

That did it.

That was it.

Rafe’s fingers were tight on your jaw in an instant. You let out a little squeak.

“Don’t ever call me crazy, ya hear me!? I’m not fucking crazy!” Rafe yells in your face making you flinch hard. You hate being yelled at; you can feel the tears escaping.

“I’m sorry” you try to utter despite being Rafe still having his hand on your jaw.

“Aw you’re sorry?” Rafe mocks your pitiful apology.

“You should be sorry; you walk around all high and mighty. Like you don’t give a shit about anything or anyone but your stupid fucking grades. Its fucking boring.” Rafe cruel words stabs your heart. He lets go of your face.

“That's not true! and I know I shouldn’t call you names, but you really said some fucked up stuff.” You try to placate him, trying to get him to ease up.

“Don’t be a fucking baby, you try to act all innocent, I bet your panties get soaked when that loser touches you. When he compliments you. I bet even when you get a fucking ‘A’ on a test you’re soaked” Rafe obscenely says licking his lips. Sinking to his knees in front of you.

You gulp down. His words and movements make you nervous, even though there is little truth to it. You do find Mr. Bennett attractive, and that makes you feel guilty enough, he’s your teacher, not a peer. Now Rafe is calling it out? Like its written all over your face.

“No” you shake your head hard.

“Rafe, just forget it and let’s get back to work yeah?”

He ignores you.

You feel his hands on your thighs now. You try to back up and free yourself but can’t move back any further.

Nowhere to go.

You’re trapped between the couch and Rafe, his hands explore your thighs, reaching closer and closer to the top of your shorts.

“Hm, how about now?” Rafe wonders out loud, more to himself instead to you.

“Huh?” you manage, confused at his words.

“Let’s see if you’re wet. Maybe you like being treated like this. Not being in control. Having someone telling you what to do. Make you do shit you would never do freely?”

You don’t say a word, a little afraid of what will come out. Your thoughts were so jumbled in this moment.

You’re scared yet you feel your skin flush. Rafe comes closer to you and hooks his fingers in the sides of your shorts. His teeth connect with the zipper on your shorts pulling it down slowly. You hand flies over your mouth, keeping your whimpers locked inside. Rafe pulls your shorts down and it pools to at ankles. Rafe takes a moment to stare at you sitting in front of him just in your panties and shirt. He pulls your legs apart, spreading them wide.

“Rafe” your voice quivers.

You want him to stop but your body desperately wants to be touched. You hated the fact it was Rafe doing it. He hated you and wanted you at the same time, it was twisted and wrong, but he made something spark inside of you. Something you haven’t felt before. You feel out of control and self-conscious. You can feel your wetness dampen your panties. You knew Rafe could tell by the grin that molded on his face.

“I knew it” he breathed out like he was proud of you.

“Little little slut” he shoves his hand between your legs, feeling up your panties, the wet spot becoming more obvious. He strokes his fingers on your slit making you tense up; you try to close your legs, but Rafe prevents you.

“Don’t be shy now…I thought you liked being the center of attention?” Rafe remarks sarcastically, playing with your folds through your panties. You tremble from his touch, you let out a little gasp when your panties are pulled to the side.

“Fucking hot, better than I imagined” Rafe murmured. Your eyes bug, shocked by his confession.

“Touch yourself” Rafe rasps, his breathing heavy.

“What? No, I can’t” you blurt out. That was not what you were expecting.

“Don’t tell me you can’t. I want to see you touch yourself, just like I was doing to you” Rafe stands tall now, his figure looming over you.

There is little room for argument, you shakily run your hands over your wetness, coating your fingers. You tease yourself lightly, Rafe is watching you closely.

“Hike your legs up.”

You almost whimper at his demand. You slowly bring your knees as close to your chest, you’re in a squatting position, spread wide for him. You try to close your eyes and forget he’s there while you do as you’re told.

“No no, keep your eyes on me” Rafe runs his hands over the tent forming in his shorts.

You try to keep eye contact with him. Your brain feels like its short circuiting, you want to stop, make him stop. You’re smarter than this. You know this is some sick game Rafe wants you apart of. Another way to fuck with you like he’s been doing since high school.

“Keep going, don’t stop touching yourself baby” Rafe purrs. He drops his shorts, standing in his underwear.

Baby

Your breath catches in your throat at that. You let out a moan feeling dizzy, you are close.

Rafe was so satisfied with how you pleasured yourself in front of him, for him. It was almost too much, he wanted to fuck you so bad. But he needed you warmed up for him. He probably wouldn’t get another chance, why not make it good.

“That's right baby, I want you to cum for me, cum on your fingers looking up at me” Rafe was on edge he was stroking himself slowly, trying hard to stay cool. The look on your face wasn’t making it easy, he can see you were fighting it, he wanted you to let go.

“Fucking cum for me, cum for me” Rafe practically begs, his own movements losing rhythm.

You do just that. You feel electricity shooting through you, you jerk against your fingers, your wetness coating them, you let out a broken moan, riding your fingers for a little longer. you try to even your breathing as you come down.

“Good girl” Rafe praises. You try your best not to sob, you drop your legs and cover your face, feeling embarrassment wash over you. Rafe stalks forward and takes your hands from your face. Knocking you on your back and pins your wrists against the couch, above your head.

“Rafe, wait please” You sob for real now, not ready to give more, you feel spent after your climax.

Rafe lets out a scoff and rips your panties down your legs. He pulls your shirt over your head to expose your chest to him.

“Always knew you had a great rack under all those ugly baggy clothes you wear” Rafe takes your bra pulling it down to cup under your boobs. You let out a groan when Rafe’s teeth meet one of your nipples, he carefully grazes against it, then sucks hard on it, you almost scream at the sensation. When he repeats it on the other side only rougher, you let out a scream, arching your back.

“Stop, that hurts” you whine, panting feeling overwhelmed by pain and pleasure. Rafe laughs

“I love hearing you cry baby, it’s so sexy” Rafe groans. He brings his mouth over your clavicle and bites unforgivingly, probably leaving a mark. You sob out, squirming under him. Rafe leaves kisses over your collarbone, then drags his tongue tenderly over your skin from left to right.

“Rafe, enough please” Your begging falls on deaf ears. Rafe is too lost in the pleasure to stop himself now.

“Look at me. Now” Rafe commands you look in in the eyes, holding his gaze. Rafe runs his tongue over your lips ever so lightly. He brushes his lips against yours before crushing his them hard against yours, rolling your lips with his. With you distracted by his kiss, he takes this moment to burying himself into you. You plead at him, begging to slow down but Rafe grunts into your mouth losing himself inside you.

“Fucking Christ, you feel so good, too good.” Rafe rasps.

He hooks one of your legs over his waist to give himself better access. Rafe lets go of your wrists; you feel the bruises coming. Rafe nuzzles his head into your neck. You try to push him off, to get some space, just to breath for a minute but it’s impossible. Rafe is too far gone, it’s like trying to move a boulder.

You pull on Rafe’s hair, he doesn’t move. He groans loudly while his hips rut into you harder and harder.

“Fuck yes, God you’re fucking wet for me” Rafe moans, his movements become frantic. He’s hungry for you and your fight only makes his desire intensify. You feel defeated you can’t take much more; you’re losing to the intoxicating feeling of Rafe’s cock splitting you open. You dig your fingers in his shoulders hard, he’s growls, and brings your hand to his neck, he squeezes a little too hard not caring about your comfort.

“You made me like this, it’s all your fault.” Rafe rhythm gets sloppy his climax approaches. You feel him pulsing inside of you.

“I’m gonna fucking cum baby, deep in you.” Rafe can’t hold back any longer, you plead with him to pull out. You beat on his shoulders.

“Fuck fuck fuck” Rafe’s hip jerk against you, he goes still inside you. His hand is still around your neck. When he finally lets go you cough, trying to catch your breath. You couldn’t get out from under him fast enough, you push past him, grabbing your clothes.

“What the fuck! like actually, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” You’re seething and you have tears in your eyes, you wipe them away quickly. Rafe is still hazy post his orgasm, it takes him a moment to get his bearing. He stands up, gathering his clothes that were discarded.

“Not so perfect now, are ya? Now we are equals. There’s shit in this world you can’t control, just thought I’d show you first.” Rafe smirks wickedly at you. You’re speechless. Stunned. You huff and frantically grab your belongings. Ready to run the hell out of there.

“Oh, and we better get an ‘A’ on this project, teacher’s pet.” You can hear the smile in his voice as you slam his front door.

#tw noncon #non con #dark fics #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark fic #smut #obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #college au #darkfics #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe cameron x you

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spacetime1969 · 4 days ago

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Danny Fenton’s Field Trip to the Ghost Zone!

I have had the wonderful opportunity to write a fic inspired by the art of the wonderful @arisu-artnfics as part of @ecto-implosion. I ended up thinking it would be fun to bring in a trope from a completely different fandom, and write a Peter Parker Field Trip fic for Danny Fenton. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Magic, Dragons, and Storms? Oh my!

Ao3 | First | Previous | Next

Technus’s voice sounded over the speaker. “Welcome to the Time Lost Lands, students! The home of Queen Dorathea and her subjects.”

“Woah is that a castle?” one of Dash’s classmates asked.

Dash looked out the window and sure enough, there was a massive medieval castle right out the window.

“Is that a dragon!” Dash couldn’t help his yell as he spotted a large winged reptile climbing out from behind the castle.

Manson just grinned at him. “Yep.”

The Dragon jumped from the tower and started flying towards them. Dash made a very manly noise of surprise. Definitely not a terrified squeal. (AN: This is a lie. He actually did a very good impression of a baby otter)

The Dragon was getting closer and closer, and everyone, other than the nerds, was getting progressively more freaked out. Fenton and his friends on the other hand didn’t even flinch as the massive mythical creature landed on top of the bus.

“WHO DARES TRESPASS ON MY... Oh, hello Lady Samantha. How are you this fine morning.” Halfway through its booming yell the dragon transformed into a woman with long blond hair who smiled at Manson.

“Hi Dora!” Manson smiled back. “Our class fell through a natural portal and we’re trying to get home. Think you can point us in the direction of the Far Frozen?”

“Well I can certainly give you directions, but I’m afraid they won’t be much help. The next stop on your journey is Box Ghost and Lunch Lady’s lair, which is currently only accessible through The Storm of Doom.” Dash could hear the capital letters in that name. He looked out into the Ghost Zone where the ghost was pointing and saw a patch of dark clouds. It didn’t look like much, but something about it scared him.

“Oh no, are they alright?” Fenton asked. He and his friends actually looked concerned.

Now Dash would admit that he wasn’t the best at math, but if those four were actually scared of something after how relaxed they had been at everything else in this dimension, then Dash should probably be just as scared. (AN: Dash made an error in his calculations, he should have been far more scared than he was)

“Last I heard from them they were preparing their lair for the storm. So I assume they are doing alright, but we won’t know for sure until the storm passes,” the ghost queen said.

“Speaking of which, that storm is heading this way!” Technus’s voice said over the bus speakers.

The other ghost, Dora, nodded. “Yes, I have been working to prepare the castle and move my citizens inside for the storm. You and yours are welcome to shelter with us Lady Sam.”

Manson and her friends share a look. “The last thing we want is to be stuck in The Storm of Doom.” Valarie said.

Fenton and Foley both nodded. “Yeah, the castle is probably one of the safest places to ride it out. I vote we take Dora up on her offer,” Fenton said.

“Hang on just a minute!” Mr. Lancer interrupted. “Since when were the four of you in charge!”

Foley shrugged. “Hey, Technus!” he said, turning to the front of the bus. “What are the odds on us surviving if we try and fly through The Storm of Doom?”

“My current calculations indicate a 5% chance of immediate death.”

Mr Lancer’s eyes widened. “Well that’s not too bad,” he managed to stammer out, but Technus kept going.

“A 30% chance of your classmates' blood boiling in their veins. A 24% chance of their brains freezing solid. A 4% chance of death by electrocution. A 10% chance of death by poisonous gasses. A 7% chance of spaghettification. A 9% chance of death by eldritch madness, 6% chance of Danny, Valarie, and I being the only survivors, 3% chance of you and Sam also surviving, and a 2% chance of more than half of your classmates surviving. The odds of everyone surviving is less than 0.01% and statistically insignificant, so I rounded it out.” Technus sounded way too cheerful to be discussing their, apparently very probable, deaths.

Mr. Lancer’s face had gotten paler and paler as the ghost spoke. He stumbled into his seat, Foley just smirking at him. “So, do you want to do that? Or do you want to spend the night in a very secure castle and not die a horrible death?”

“Besides,” Fenton held up a glowing green post-it note that he had gotten from... Dash had no idea where he had gotten it from, “time is apparently moving at a two to one ratio to earth right now, so every two hours we spend here only one is passing on earth. So we have plenty of time.” No one bothered to ask him how he knew that.

Mr Lancer just nodded and slumped farther into the bus seat.

Manson turned back to the ghost dragon lady floating outside the bus and smiled at her, bowing at the waist. “We humbly accept your offer of shelter, Queen Dorathea of the Time Lost Lands.”

The Ghost, Queen Dorathea, nodded back at Manson. “The Time Lost Lands do not forget those who helped us find our path to the future, you and yours will always be able to find shelter in our walls, Lady Samantha.”

The solemness that had fallen over the group hung for a moment, before Manson straightened and smiled at the ghost. “Thanks Dora, I really appreciate it!”

“Of course Sam! I’m always glad to have you stop by! Have your vehicle land in the field by the stables. It should be safe from the storm there.”

They did as ordered, and the bus came to a stop next to a stable with, were those unicorns? (Star would later inform him that they were actually alicorns.)

They all hopped out of the bus and looked around at the castle. It was even more impressive up close. The walls absolutely towered over them, and they made Dash feel very small.

Off to the side he could see Fenton and his friends talking to Mr. Lancer, but they were too quiet for him to hear what they were saying. He wasn’t gonna have to wait long to find out what they were talking about though, since Mr. Lancer called them all to gather around.

“Alright class. Miss Manson and Mr. Foley are going to go find out how long we will have to wait out the storm. In the meantime, I encourage you all to eat your lunches. If you were planning to buy lunch at the planetarium please raise your hand, Mr. Fenton has offered to hand out Fenton Sustenance Crackers™ to anyone without a pre-packed lunch.”

Dash felt his lunch money in his pocket and winced, he didn’t exactly want to take Fenton’s charity, but he had worked up quite the appetite since they had fallen into the Ghost Zone, so he raised his hand. Next to him, Kwan raised his hand too.

Fenton slowly made his way around the group and passed the crackers out. When he approached the two jocks Dash was surprised to see that they were literal crackers, like a saltine. For some reason he had been expecting more. Fenton smirked at him and split the cracker in half, handing one half to each of them. Dash stared at it.

“Is this really it?” he asked.

Fenton just smiled. “Yep, trust me, that’s all you’re gonna need.”

Dash shared a look with Kwan as Fenton continued onto the rest of the group. Kwan just shrugged at him and the two inspected the crackers they had been handed. It looked like a normal cracker, for the most part. Dash was pretty sure the slightly green hue was just the lighting, but he still hesitated.

Dash’s stomach rumbled and he shrugged. It was better than nothing. He tossed the cracker into his mouth.

It tasted strange, both citrusy and bland, while also tasting like absolutely nothing. The taste was nothing compared to what happened when he swallowed though. He could feel the cracker slide down his throat and into his stomach, and then expand.

“Oh that’s really weird,” Kwan said with a shudder.

“You get used to it!” Fenton yelled from across the field.

Dash shuddered, he really, really hoped he never did. He would give Fenton one thing though, the crackers certainly worked. His stomach felt like he had just eaten an entire 16” pizza by himself.

He joined the other students as they sat in the grass eating and talking. For a moment he forgot that they weren’t just hanging out on the football field back at Casper High. Manson and Foley returning with the green skinned ghost queen broke the illusion though.

The group hurried over to Fenton, and Valarie. Dash didn’t recognize what Valarie and Danny did, that the group were only avoiding breaking into a sprint to not cause a panic.

Dash was just close enough to over hear their whispered conversation.

“Danny we have bad news,” Manson said.

“Really bad news. The storm’s drifted further than expected. The Core is heading straight for us,” Foley sounded scared, and that scared Dash. The look on Fenton’s face pushed him from scared to terrified.

Fenton stood up from where he had been leaning against the bus, straightening and turning to the ghostly queen who had offered them shelter. “Queen Dorathea, how may I be of service to you and your people.”

The Queen bowed her head to Fenton. “Your friends have agreed to assist the royal mage in raising a shield around the castle. But I fear that without your power they will be unable to outlast the storm.” The queen made eye contact with Fenton “I ask for your aid in this, K-”

Fenton interrupted the queen. “Just Danny right now, Dora.” Fenton looked over at the rest of the class, who were obviously trying to listen in to their conversation. He made brief eye contact with Dash before turning back to Queen Dorathea. “But you will have my assistance in any way you require it.”

Fenton turned to Valerie. “Come on, let’s go let Lancer know what’s going on.” He turned back to the Ghost and bowed. “We'll be back soon.”

They hurried over to Mr. Lancer. Dash wasn’t close enough to hear what was said, but he could see the way Lancer tried to argue with Fenton only for him to stand firm. Eventually Lancer slumped and seemed to give permission.

Fenton grabbed his bag and made his way back to his friends and the queen. “Alright, let’s go. Val, you got things covered here?”

She nodded, before pulling Fenton and the others into a quick hug. Then they walked away, leaving the class whispering behind them.

There was no sun in the ghost zone but it certainly felt like it was setting as the green sky grew darker and the howling noise of the storm began to grow louder and louder.

Dash and the other A-Listers watched as the storm rolled over them, the clouds covering the sky completely. The clouds seemed to whisper to him and Dash couldn’t help but be drawn to them. He felt himself stand up and, not hearing his friends call his name, started walking away.

Val smacked him over the back of the head. Hard.

Dash felt dazed and confused. When had he stood up? Where had he been walking to?

“Yeah, don’t look at the storm. It’s not the weather you really have to be worried about.”

Instinctively Dash looked back up at the storm. Val smacked him again.

“Don’t look at it idiot. Got it?” Dash nodded rapidly. “Good. Now get back to your friends. You scared them.”

Dash looked back over his shoulder. They really did look terrified.

He quickly walks back to them. “Sorry guys, I don't know what happened.”

Paulina’s voice shook. “Don’t do that again.”

“You scared us man,” Kwan said. "It was like you couldn’t hear us.”

Dash almost looked back up at the whispering clouds again. But he caught himself, and looked down at the ground instead. “I don’t think I could.” He whispered.

They sat in silence, intentionally not looking at the storm.

There was a deep ring that echoed through the castle, and voices raised in a haunting chant. All around them a glowing green dome raised to block out the storm, the whispers in the storm becoming muffled and drowned out by the chanting.

“Look! up there!” Star said, pointing up to the castle walls. Dash followed her finger to where four figures were standing silhouetted against the bright green of the shield.

Three of the figures were holding their arms up to the sky, green wisps of magic trailing out from their hands and stretching out to the dome above them, pulsing in time with the chanting. The fourth figure had his hands on the shoulders of two of the others, their hair seeming to glow with the lighting.

“Is that Fenton and the others?” Star asked.

“Yep,” Valarie said. Dash jumped. He hadn't seen her walk up behind them. “Them and the royal mage.”

“Since when could they do magic?” Paulina asked.

“Sam and Tucker have been studying for a while. Danny too, but he doesn't have as much talent in it. He’s so powerful though that it doesn't matter much in the long run. He can just brute force a lot of things.”

She turned to look at them, making eye contact with Dash in particular. “You should all be grateful you haven't bothered them since freshman year. Sam could turn you into a frog and Danny could separate your soul from your body with just a word. As for Tucker… let’s just say that we’re all glad he stays focused on technomancy.”

Dash felt queasy. "Did you ever learn anything?” He asked, morbidly curious.

Valarie just shrugged. “It's not my specialty. I know some of the theory, but not much more than that.” She grinned and pulled a very big ray gun out of her purse. “Besides, I'm more of a gun gal anyway.”

Kwan squeaked and Dash barely kept himself from doing the same.

“How’d you get that to fit in your purse like that?” Star asked.

“There are some benefits to having magic friends.” Val grinned at them again, before sobering slightly and gesturing back towards the bus. “Now come on, we fixed up the bus so that people can sleep in it.”

Dash and the others followed her to the bus. The backs of the bench seats had been laid down flat and someone had found blankets and pillows from somewhere, turning the seats into makeshift cots.

“Claim a bed and get some sleep if you can. It's gonna be a long night.”

Dash had a hard time sleeping on the makeshift cot. Not necessarily because it was uncomfortable, but more because his mind was too full. The green glow and unending haunting chanting wasn’t helping either. Though it was definitely preferable to the alternative. The way he had almost walked off into the storm terrified him.

He got up from the bed and quietly made his way out of the bus.

Val was sitting outside on a wooden stool that had been pulled from somewhere. She had her gun balanced on her knees. and was staring up at where her friends were still chanting on the castle wall.

“How are you so calm?" he asked. “All of this is absolutely crazy, and yet you're so calm. How?”

Valarie just sat there for a long moment. “There's not much I can say other than 'you get used to it,'” she finally said. “Danny Sam and Tucker, they've been there since the very beginning, since the portal opened in his parents lab.” She glanced at him. “It's hard to keep up with the rest of them sometimes. They're all so in sync and I joined them so much later, but I'm nothing if not stubborn, so I keep up with them anyway.”

“So this whole time Fenton and the others have been befriending the ghosts and learning magic and and... I don't even know what else.”

Valerie's laugh was humorless. “Yeah you really don't know what else Dash. And I'm not going to tell you.”

“Why not!”

“Why would I Dash? Why would I tell you a secret that isn't even mine when you bullied Danny and ostracized me back in freshman year. Why do you think Dash?” Val shook her head. “It's not my place to tell people, and even if it was, you'd never be someone I'd tell anyway.”

Dash had nothing he could say in response.

Valerie turned back to watch the castle walls. “Go back to bed Dash.”

He did as told, but he didn't get much sleep that night.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #ecto implosion #Danny Fenton’s Field Trip to the Ghost Zone!#my writing #my work #fanfic

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 months ago

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i am SO here for the influx of love for “keep quiet”. that fic… S…

potentially my favorite fic of yours to exist and if you EVER wanted to temporarily put pause on pussy steve to bring back this sloppy, squirty, dumbified, pretty pussy bucky i would be forever in your debt

related to this, and this

of course, also, "Keep Quiet, Nothing Comes As Easy As You"

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

Thank you!!

And, listen, why spend time just talking about one of those boys when you can ramble about them both?

Attempted 69, oral sex, fingering, teasing/dirty talk, etc.

Bucky is scorching hot--red-hot--from the tips of his ears aaaall the way down to his clenched, curled toes. It is redicious, how fucking lethally high the fever he's running has gotten. But he's not just flaming. Every inch of his body is a guitar string twisted and tightened to the point of breaking.

He's so fucking tense and yet so useless, too, limp like an overcooked noodle that's weak, falling apart, barely keeping it's head above the surface of the simmering water. Both. He's, yeah, he's both.

He's burning up, evaporated, but he's also just a liquefied puddle. Solid mush. There is too much sensory onslaught to track.

And Bucky can't make sense of it all, spinning and sloshing inside his empty head. He's so fucking thankful he's lying on his back, face-up with their sex-mused, sweat-damp sheets stuck to his arching, tingling back because if he were anywhere else he would be crumbling. Falling to his knees, or, worse, more embarrassingly, straight onto his face. There is no way to hold himself together when such intense pleasure flows through him like a fucking waterfall. All soaked. There is no way to hole himself together when he's consumed by flames in the middle of a firepit. Burning hot.

Bucky is quivering chaotically, uncoordinatedly, and he's moving his mouth, sloppy and fast yet slow, and he's not talking, he's barely able to rattle out moans, and he's blushing so badly from head to toe that he must look like he's been dipped in a pool of wet, glistening pink paint and he's swollen from how fucking much he's blushing, his blood boiling, and he's sensitive. Tingling. Sparkling. His blood is wreaking havoc on his body as it rushes through his veins, boiling, boiling, thick, and pumping.

Oh, god.

It's so goddamn overwhelming.

Bucky doesn't know what he's doing--he doesn't even know if he's making Steve feel good. Because. Yeah. That's right. That's what he's supposed to be doing.

He has a mission here and he's probably utterly fucking failing at it. He can't rub two brain cells together to think about how to do better, though. He is, just, consumed by this. Now. Here. Hot. Wet. Sensitive.

Steve told him he'd make him feel good if Bucky made him feel good, too. And he's trying. He's trying so hard that he's pretty sure there are tears leaking out of his eyes, but his face is also so slick and coated in the wetness of Steve's arousal that he can't tell.

What's tears?

What's dripping wetness from Steve's hot cunt?

What's the fucking difference?

Bucky can't tell if he's crying, sobbing, choking, or just using his whole face so uncoordinatedly, so unashamedly getting up in Steve's pussy that he's smeared his heated, briny wetness so high up on his cheeks that he thinks he's crying. There's sweat beading his hairline, too. He's soaking into the mattress from the perspiration seeping from every pore on his body. His lips--his mouth and his... not mouth lips--feel swollen from how long they've been at this. Overused. Licking and tonguing and nipping each other to rip out moans and gasps and cries of pleasure. Orgasm after orgasm.

Bucky spread across their bed, Steve on top of him, flipped the other way.

When he got like that, positioning their bodies just so, Steve lewdly spread his legs to expose himself from his cute, sweet swollen clit past his wet, clutching vagina to his tight, tight asshole; he's so pink and pretty and Bucky might be fucking burning, but he's also drowning and suffocating and dying a million different ways between his legs. Steve on top of him, bodily, his weight shoving Bucky down into the mattress.

Jesus.

Bucky has pressed his entire face up against Steve's pussy, diving in, and he's dying that way plus dying at how Steve is doing the same for him.

Too much pleasure.

He can't.

Steve is doing a much, much better job. Bucky is... pretty sure. He can't think straight. Earlier, he had his tongue on Steve's clit and two fingers buried in his cunt and was pulling more fucking sticky, hot, salty wetness out of him with the stimulation but at some point. Christ. At some point, Steve stepped up his game, and Bucky couldn't. He needed something else to hold onto. He needed to dig all ten points of his fingers into Steve's hips to keep from thrashing and squirming hugely, getting away from or getting more of Steve's talented mouth. He doesn't fucking know. God.

Please.

He can't.

He whines needily, stupidly into Steve's pussy, licking at him broadly to try and give some of what Steve is giving him back. It's so hard. He doesn't know what he wants; he doesn't know what he needs; he doesn't know what he's doing.

It's a stupidly pathetic and delicous display. The difference between them stark. They're both so fucking aroused but Steve can keep his cool and keep his technique, Bucky, on the other hand, can't keep a single fucking shiver from shaking through him as if it's the most devastating earthquake. Steve is curling three fingers deep inside him and sucking at his clit and Bucky feels like he could fucking burst out of his skin. Steve's pressing hotly against that spot inside him that has his vision blurring into a hot, white void of, just, need and he's sucking on his clit hard enough that it hurts. It's that bite of too much, too good pain that leaves Bucky failing to swallow down a little behind-his-teeth shriek.

Steve is too good at multitasking for this to be fair. Bucky can't help it. He can't keep up! He's infamous for going dumb during sex and he's so sensitive between his legs, just one touch, one murmur of sweet words, and he can't handle it, and Steve is too damn skilled at eating pussy and he's just--

It's not fair!

If Bucky wasn't crying before, now he is.

He is.

Crying.

"C'mon, princess," Steve pulls back only the slightest bit with a truly obscene sound. Almost a goddamn wet slurp. All that fucking wetness dripping like honey out of him, making Steve's breath against him even more noticable, his huffing feels painted on. Every word leaving Bucky quivering and exposed.

Brazenly, at the same time that Steve's voice purrs over those teasing words, he drags his three fingers out of Bucky's tight, trembling pussy and slips them up and down, up and down, up and down his wet slit, teasing him, playing with him so fucking effectively. Shit. He feels how fucking hard his clit is but also, god, he feels swollen everywhere.

He's blushing with his entire body, so how can all of his blood be centered between his legs, making him flush hot and swell with arousal? It doesn't make sense. It doesn't have to make sense. Bucky can't make sense, he can't put one thought in front of the other.

Oh, fuck. me.

"C'mon, pillow princess, baby, don't stop," Steve doesn't stop. Nevermind how he's not even out of breath, the fucker.

He's terrible. Eating pussy like a champ, dirty talking like he doesn't care about how pornographic his mouth is getting, not ashamed for even an instant, and totally merciless as he strips Bucky down.

Bucky whimpers, sucking wet, sloppy kisses down the inside of Steve's thighs clenched around his face to try and not drown. If he didn't already know Steve likes it--likes him like this, likes teasing him--he'd know now with how he's flooding him, shoved in so close to his cunt.

Bastard.

Meanwhile, Steve fucking kisses him on the pussy like he'd kiss his mouth if they were face-to-face, frenching. Filthy motherfucker. He will call him names until his eyes roll back because he's awful. And names are the best he can do. He doesn't have anything else going for him--so weak.

"Thought I told you not to stop," Steve rumbles, sliding the tease of two fingertips in him, making him really fucking feel how his hole clenches tight.

Bucky whines like he's dying because he is.

In retort, Steve slaps him; he doesn't hit him in the face or let his big, heavy hand collide with his ass, spanking him, nah, Steve's worse. Steve is a pervert. 'Cause, no fucking problem or hesitation, he's manhandling Bucky's legs apart, spreading him wide and leaving him vulnerable to the rush of cold air across his sex, and, from there, he's bringing his hand down flat and stinging across his pussy.

He slaps Bucky's pussy.

And.

Bucky just fucking squeals, his eyes rolling all the way back into his skull.

He's gone.

If he was useless before, then there isn't a word for how vulnerable and helpless and fucking dumb Bucky is now. There's no one home. He's vacant. Eyes glassy and far-away. But it isn't enough for Steve. It never is. It's not a true Rogers marathon fuck session until Bucky passes out.

So, as Steve turns around--purposefully grinding his pussy against Bucky's lazily open mouth, hanging wide, before he dismounts him, using him how he wants--Steve makes sure to arch his back, showing off his goddamn perfect ass, and settle neatly in his lap. Okay, almost in his lap. He's offset enough to grind, humid and sticky, against Bucky's thick upper thigh. Riding his leg as he unceremoniously shoves two fingers back into Bucky's cunt. Torturing him.

"Should've known better," Steve muses to himself as he fingerfucks him into oblivion. Two fingers in, fucking him good, giving him something to clench down on while his thumb is against his clit, rubbing and pressing tight enough to leave his vision to ignite into sparking fireworks. Shit. Wet sounds fill the room as the air grows thicker and more fragrant around them. It smells like sex. Like pussy. Undeniably.

"There's no fuckin' way you could handle 69in', 'course not," he smirks to himself, his accent really coming out the hotter he gets for this. "You get too fuckin' dumb. Can't even do anythin' when I'm just touchin' you. How could you have any smarts when you're getting touched and expected to touch me, too? Fuckin' pillow princess." He's all too self-satisfied because he fucking knows he does this to Bucky. Before him, Bucky wasn't so--yeah. He didn't get so dumb. It's just Steve. Steve gets all Steve, and Bucky can't handle it!

Bucky is so dumb now that he can't even argue. He can't agree, either. So, he just lays there, whimpering and pleasured so exorbitantly he can't hardly take it.

He's gonna cum again.

P.S. I don't have an ask to relate this to as an excuse to write it, so I'm just gonna fucking stick it here because why not-?

So, imagine pussy Steve getting it into his head for one reason or another that he's gonna peg the shit out of Bucky (even though pegging implies that it's a woman doing it to a man and they're both men here), like, he's gonna dick his boyfriend better than Bucky can dick him.

He's stubborn.

He's competitive.

He's... oh.

Bucky gets him a nice big, thick strap, something that will be a struggle for him to take because he's hungry like that, and Steve harnesses it on.

He puts his shiny new toy in place and he's so fucking excited that he's all wet and slippery between his legs, and he fucks in and, "OH!" He can't keep his moaning gasp in. It's just the way his clit grinds against the base of his toy. It feels like lightning cutting through him. White hot.

He was so into the idea of fucking Bucky and taking him apart but here he is, puppy panting, tongue out, shaking because every time he jerkily thrusts, it makes him wetter. He's so sensitive down between his legs, he can't help it. Every thrust is a bigger shock for him.

Plus, the sight of his strap fucking in and out of Bucky? Jesus Christ. How does Bucky ever do this, much less do it while being able to feel his dick? What the fuck?

Steve squeals when Bucky chuckles and strains to reach between his legs, cupping his wet, swollen sex in one big palm and asking, "aw, is this too hard for you? Are you too sensitive down here?"

Steve. can't. take. it.

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #pussy buck #pussy steve

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tossawary · 11 months ago

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I've only seen 3 episodes of the new "Percy Jackson" show so far and my main complaint with the first two episodes was pacing. I thought the pacing in the third episode was much improved and overall very good, but a lot about the first two episodes felt rushed to me.

I think episodes 1 and 2 both could have been two episodes each to slowly introduce us to Percy, Grover, Sally, Mr. Brunner, Mrs. Dodds and the Minotaur, and then to the Camp, to Annabeth, Luke, Clarisse, the satyrs and the different cabins, etc.. I mean, I think what was there was pretty solid! I like the actors! I don't think it's badly written (I think making Luke show Percy around the camp was a good choice to make later things hit harder, since we will have more time with Annabeth on the quest itself later), but I would have liked more breathing room scenes, like when Percy burned the blue jellybeans, for things to settle in, and I blame the studio for not giving this show a longer season to work with.

As it stands now, the first two episodes felt more intended for existing fans, rather than for onboarding new fans. I feel like a frog being thrown into boiling water instead of the water coming up to a boil around me. If you're not familiar with this religion & lore already, if you don't know who the Twelve Olympians are, the introduction to the Camp doesn't give you much of a foothold, which is quite unfortunate when PJO was many people's introduction to this stuff.

The blue food is not really explained. The tension of the mystery with Mrs. Dodds kind of gets thrown out because it all happens so fast. There's no time to slowly build a feeling of normalcy and then wrongness. Percy's relationship with Chiron is undermined by how little time they get together. Percy finding out who his father is happens SO QUICKLY that we don't have a proper understanding of what's wrong about his claiming when it happens. The camp looks cool and I want to see more of it! How it functions is barely explained! We barely get to meet anyone! It feels like Percy is there for less than 48 hours before he's leaving on a quest again, so there's very little time to build up his attachment to it. I have less emotional investment in Percy's conflict with Clarisse because we barely get to understand what daily life at Camp Half-blood might be like (although I understand putting less focus on Clarisse now knowing that you'll be able to play catch-up during future storylines).

I think the show is making pretty good choices with the time that they have, I just wish they had MORE time. I don't think that they have to include every little detail and scene and character from the books. I like a lot of the changes they've made just fine. I just feel like the writing and acting is being undermined by the fact that there's very little time to set things up so that you can knock them down, and that it takes more time to show something visually than it does to read a sentence. Everything in episodes 1 and 2 is moving so quickly that some of the magical aspects feel... less magical to me because there's less time to develop contrast. And the show doesn't have as much time to potentially develop cool NEW things, to slide in more new funny character interactions, because it's all so smushed down. I want more time to see these actors shine together.

(Although, admittedly, it is VERY funny to feel like Percy is stuck in some sort of speedrun version of the story. Every day is a new rollercoaster of Percy not knowing what the fuck is going on and going with it because he's not given the time to ask questions. Sure! This might as well happen next! His life sucks already. That part feels very true to the books, although I think the feeling could still be preserved if the show was given more time.)

I'm tired of 8 episode seasons. I don't know if I think that PJO needs a full 20+ episodes to tell the story of the first book, probably not, but being constrained to only 8 instead of at least 10-16 feels disappointing.

#tossawary pjo #tossawary watching #spoilers

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nevarroes · 4 months ago

Note

I am very sorry to be coming in like this unannounced but gortcas is apparently rotting in my brain feel free to ignore this or whatever i just wanted to share with u 🫡 its 5am. Help.

It takes Casim maybe four minutes after he wakes up to realize what it was that woke him up. There's a cold emptiness to the bed, but that's not it - or, it isn't, after he first realizes that it's just him. No, its the half open door, light spilling into the room, and Gortash cursing beyond that door. It takes him another minute to parse out what Gortash is saying, beyond the slur of his words. For a moment, Cas throws an arm over his eyes, listening to Gortash huff and strain and bitch over the buttons of his overcoat not coming undone, and then Casim realizes that he's already dressed, and is trying to undress. It's at about that moment that Casim realizes that Gortash had gone somewhere, and, most importantly: Gortash had gone there alone.

The sheet hardly rustles as he slips out from beneath it, but Casim doubts Gortash could hear it over his own labored breaths and straining, and then the final gasping sigh of relief when Casim presumes another button comes free. Beyond the door, just barely cracked, Casim watches Gortash. He's leaning against the edge of his desk, pudgy fingers scrambling against the comparatively tiny buttons of his unnecessarily fanciful overcoat, his hair hanging in front of his face instead of styled perfectly, and the sight - endears him as much as it infuriates him. There was one thing that Casim had tried to hammer into Gortash' tiny little brain, and that was not to leave without Casim there, and yet still, the fat little man had the oddest way of expunging the information and going off on his own anyways.

Eyes narrowed, tail flexing idly behind him, Casim watches as Gortash gives up, huffing another curse and leans heavier against the desk. It groans beneath the addition of his weight, despite being a solid desk, and casim's lips curl just slightly, until Gortash's gaze lifts and lights on him with fuzzy, alcoholic glee.

"Cas! Come help me get this damned overcoat off-" Gortash begins, pushing himself up to stand slightly more of his own accord as he waves a hand to the demon, who simply watches.

"Where were you, Gortash?"

Casim feels as though his voice is pleasantly calm. And yet, despite this, Gortash tenses; slightly bleary eyes trailing up and down Casim's form until they return to his face, brows furrowed as he considers what to say.

"... working," he settles on, finally, and Casim's tail flicks irritably.

"Working?"

"Yes, Cas, working. I wanted to meet-"

"Alone?"

"Yes, Cas," and now Gortash sounds exasperated, and oh, that makes his blood boil more.

"Alone, when I've told you, time and again not to? Gortash, how am I supposed to protect you if you keep rolling your ass down to do this that and the other by yourself-"

"It was fine, Cas, I was just down the road-"

"Oh, fine, he says! Listen to me, you little twit," and Casim is across the room, invading Gortash's space, pressing him firmer into the desk.

"I am sick and tired of repeating myself. Do. Not. Go. Places. Alone. Your safety-"

"Is your number one priority, yeah, I got it, Cas-"

"Do you? Because you smell like you rolled in booze before you came back, and that doesn't exactly endear me to the belief that you understand!"

Casim's voice raises at the end, and Gortash scoffs, pressing a hand against his chest to provide himself with some room. Casim doesn't give him any, and Gortash gives him a stink eye, before his expression softens.

"Look, I do get it. I'm sorry, I wanted to meet with the Steel Watch, and got distracted-"

"Which is why I should have been with you-"

"-but I made it home safely," Gortash continues, as if talking over Casim was going to make him right, and Casim scoffs.

"So," and Gortash offers him a brilliant smile. "Help me get undressed?"

Casim turns on his heel, and walks back towards the bedroom.

"Undress yourself," he replies over his shoulder, irritation still obvious in his voice, though his spirits begin to lift as Gortash curses and starts to try to scramble after him.

"Cas? Casim, you wouldn't leave me stuck in this, right? Cas? Cas?!"

ignore it? man I love this omfg love the scenario nd Cas just being ever so slightly endeared watching him although being mad 😔😔 Cas refusing to help… why‘d his fat ass even button up the coat I‘m crying

Cas worrying about his safety will never not get to me I fear WAHHH thank u so much for writing + sending me this it made my morning to be honest with u

#blakemail #id call him on the verge of being alcoholic but actually hes just a lightweight #idk what exactly u intended but I like to think Gortash just lets him sleep because he doesn’t want to wake him looking all peaceful💔#god i love reading or seeing peoples takes on them soo much it makes me so happy

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woman-of-balnain · 2 years ago

Text

Possession (Alpha Rick x Omega Reader)

Prev. Work | Collection Masterlist | AO3 Ver. | Next Work

Pairing: Rick Grimes/Fem!Reader

Summary: After catching another alpha making unwanted advances on you, Rick makes the younger man watch as he claims you all over again, showing that you are indisputably his.

Set in the early Alexandria days (s5).

A light sequel to my other story, ‘the Claim’, but this can be read independently.

A/N: If you haven’t read ‘the Claim’, basically Reader is Hershel’s daughter but can be read as any race (as in you can picture her as adopted etc.).

If you have read it, then just note that Lori still died giving birth to Judith, making Shane completely lose his sanity and he’s no longer around either (the reason why can be left up to your imagination). Like in the show, Rick has adopted Judith as his own and you both act as her parents but that is only mentioned and doesn’t play any serious role in this oneshot.

I’m really unsure about this one because the scenario is pretty fucked up lmao but hopefully it’s not complete and utter trash 😅

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, there’s some non-consensual kissing and touching from an original male character, Rick being feral, dominant, possessive and a little bit dark, submissive reader, smut, brief orgasm delay/denial, unprotected sex, creampie, established relationship, Rick and reader are true mates, reverse-voyeurism I guess? Since Rick is literally getting off by making someone else watch... reader is female and wears traditionally female clothing.

Word Count: 3,989

Dividers by: @newlips + @cafekitsune

Rick couldn’t help but feel uneasy and keep his guard up in the early days after arriving in Alexandria. After losing the farm and then later the prison, it was only natural that the whole group felt on edge. It felt too good to be true and it reminded him a little of Woodbury, making him wonder if Alexandria was also putting up some kind of front.

Ultimately though, Rick wanted it to be everything it presented itself as, because the group needed a win after the hell they’d all been through. So, Rick was determined to try and make it work; and he knew that he could eventually – at least once he put a certain alpha in his place.

It hadn’t escaped his attention how a younger alpha kept hanging around you, his omega. It bothered him, deep down, that the other man was closer to you in age and the way he made you laugh and smile with whatever stupid things he was saying.

But Rick knew that the interactions were just friendly on your part. Your eyes had never strayed in all the time you’d been together, but that didn’t subdue the possessiveness he felt over you. The problem was the other alpha, Dylan, and the clear interest he had in you, despite you being claimed by Rick long ago.

The way he touched you – light brushes against your skin that could have easily been explained away as an accident, but Rick knew it was much more than that – it made his blood boil. Rick had seen you grow uncomfortable more than once, but your new job, assigned to you by Deanna, meant that you would have to work closely with the other alpha. He didn’t like it, but he knew that he had nothing solid to prove that Dylan was doing anything wrong. At least not yet.

His irritation only got worse when he came back to the house you’d been given, early in the evening one day after he’d been discussing things with Deanna. Because the first thing he saw was Carol, holding Judith, and no sign of you. The two of you had adopted the little girl as your own after Lori’s death, so the fact that you weren’t the one looking after her was out of the ordinary. His eyes scanned the rest of the living room, but you were nowhere to be found and it set him on edge.

“She went off to help someone,” the beta woman told him calmly, sensing his uneasiness.

“Who?” He grit out, already knowing the likely answer.

“Dylan,” she replied with a hint of trepidation, knowing he wouldn’t like it. “Wanted some advice on that wild horse that was brought in.”

It was a logical reason to ask for your help, since you had plenty of experience with horses due to growing up on the farm. Not to mention the fact that Dylan was in charge of looking after any livestock in Alexandria and you were tasked with working alongside him. But Rick knew there had to be an ulterior motive on the other alpha’s part, so he didn’t even say another word to Carol before he turned and headed back out the door in search of you.

You were in the stables of Alexandria, stroking along the nose of the wild, yet beautiful mare that had been successfully captured, trying to calm it as it grew restless in its stall.

“I’ll try to spend some time with her every day,” you told Dylan, your attention still on the mare. “Gain her trust first before we try to do anything with her.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” the young alpha replied, moving closer to you.

His arm brushed against yours and you tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling growing inside of you. You turned to face him and tried to put some distance between you both, but he just kept coming closer.

“You know,” he said, getting right up in your space. “It’s gonna be really nice having you around here to help.”

“Uh… thanks?” You replied, dread filling you at the way he wouldn’t stop coming closer and closer.

“And it’s just an added bonus that you’re easy on the eyes,” he continued, looking you up and down.

He had backed you up against the nearest wall and now his scent was all around you. It was suffocating and unpleasant, because it wasn’t Rick’s familiar and comforting scent. The fear just grew inside you at the lack of your alpha’s presence.

“Dylan... Rick will lose it if he hears you say something like that,” you warned, knowing better than anyone just how protective your alpha could be.

“That old man?” He scoffed, causing anger to rise within you. “What’s he gonna do?”

Dylan pressed his body against yours and you struggled, trying to move away, but he took hold of your arms and pinned you in place.

“Come on, Omega,” he tried to convince you and you hated the way that word sounded coming from his mouth. “You need a real Alpha. One who can keep up with you.”

If only he knew… you thought to yourself, thinking that you were the one usually left exhausted as you tried to keep up with Rick’s stamina.

“What?” You asked, with annoyance, trying to mask your discomfort. “Someone like you? Give me a break…”

“Don’t worry,” he snarled, his face so close that you were forced to look him in the eye. “I’ll make you forget him. I’ll make it so the only name you remember is mine.”

“Seriously,” you fought against him again. “Just cut it out. You don’t want to see him angry.”

“You reek of him,” was Dylan’s only response.

“What do you expect? He’s my mate.”

“That’s never stopped me before,” he grinned.

He pushed his hips against you so that you could feel how excited he was by the idea. It only repulsed you and made you turn your head away in disgust.

“Please, don’t do this…” you pleaded with him, truly scared now as you realised the full depth of his intentions.

“That’s right,” he chuckled darkly. “Beg, little Omega.”

Then he took hold of your face roughly, turning it back to look at him before his lips forced themselves onto yours. You kicked your legs and grunted against him in anger, trying desperately to get away, but his hold on you was steadfast and you weren’t able to escape.

You hated it, every fibre of your being screaming out that this was wrong and wondering where the hell Rick was. It was more than just another man forcing himself on you. It was like trying to mess with nature, because the claiming bite Rick had placed on your neck linked you to him intrinsically. It joined you physically and emotionally, so another man touching you was like torture.

You gasped for air, relief filling your body when Dylan’s body was ripped away from yours. The relief didn’t last long, though, because you caught sight of your alpha, enraged and completely out of control. You wiped the back of your hand against your mouth, wishing you could erase what had just happened.

Rick was fuming and pushed the other alpha to the ground before plummeting his fists into the younger alpha’s face. His eyes were feral with an untamed fury over another man touching you in that way.

“Rick…” you called out softly, trying to get his attention.

Despite his anger being completely warranted, and the way you still felt disgusted over the other alpha’s unwanted touch, you needed Rick to calm down. Because if he didn’t, it could jeopardise the new home you had all found.

But Rick either didn’t hear you or refused to listen, continuing to brutally beat the other alpha down into the ground. You winced when you heard the tell-tale sound of bones breaking and saw the way Dylan’s head whipped to the side from the force of Rick’s assault.

When most of the younger man’s face was a mix of dark bruising and bright, red blood, Rick finally let up, his chest heaving and his eyes still absolutely feral. He stood up, leaving Dylan on the ground, the younger man coughing and wheezing in his defeat.

Then Rick’s gaze met your terrified one and his expression softened as he made his way over to you. His eyes and hands searched you frantically, making sure that you were okay, and you looked at the broken skin of his knuckles with concern.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” his voice cracked as he spoke, and then he was resting his forehead against yours.

“F-for what?” You stammered out, still in shock from it all.

“I wasn’t here,” he elaborated, his hands resting protectively on your hips. “To stop him from doing that to you."

“You’re here now,” you pointed out, your fingers stroking soothing patterns across his cheek. “But… you shouldn’t have done that. Won’t Deanna get mad?”

You looked over at the other alpha, still lying on the ground, but now unmoving. Seeing the way your concern only deepened, Rick followed your gaze and his mood darkened again. He moved away from you, striding back over to the man who was the reason for his current rage.

Bending down, he grabbed hold of the collar of the younger man’s shirt with one hand, pulling him up slightly before he hit across Dylan’s face with his other hand. The other alpha startled back awake with a groan, eyes barely keeping open from how swollen they’d become.

Rick pulled him up, dragging his body until it was propped up against the wall that he’d previously held you against. Then, he bent right down to look straight into the other alpha’s eyes, every part of him seething as he was only just holding back from killing the younger man.

“No, you don’t get to pass out,” Rick drawled out, voice low and gruff with barely restrained fury. “You’re gonna watch. You’re gonna see everything and take it all in until you understand that she’s mine. And afterwards, assuming that you get to live, if you ever even look at her again, I’ll do more than just break your jaw.”

You stared at your alpha with confusion, wondering what exactly he intended for the other man to see. Then Rick stepped back before turning to look at you again and the unrestrained lust that entered his eyes as he took you in made you both nervous and excited.

“Rick…” you said again, backing up and away from him.

He stalked you like you were his prey, but it was different to when the other alpha had done it. Because Rick was yours and you were his. And sooner or later, he would have you however he wanted you. Your back hit resistance and you realised that you were trapped again, but now there was only desire and anticipation filling you at the thought of what he had in mind.

“Omega,” he said lowly, caging your body with his. “Tell me what he said to you. What he wanted to do.”

Your eyes widened at his request, but you had never seen him so completely feral, so raw with anger. Reluctantly, you decided to obey him, not wanting to push him any further.

“He…”

You faltered, feeling nervous, but Rick gave you a reassuring look, telling you he wouldn’t be angry. Not with you anyway.

“He… he said he would show me what a real alpha is like…” you admitted hesitantly.

Rick’s gaze darkened, but he didn’t interrupt. You didn’t like repeating it, but deep down, in the darkest depths of your mind, you enjoyed how possessive he was of you. That alone gave you the courage to continue.

“He wanted to take me, despite the fact I’m yours. Wanted me to beg him to stop…”

You looked away, but that was enough for Rick. He gently turned your head back to face him and rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip tenderly.

“I’m here now,” he repeated your earlier words. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You nodded, trusting him completely and he leaned forward, bringing his lips to yours. The familiar, but no less perfect sensation made all of the tension you felt fade away. His mouth reclaimed your own, washing away any traces of the other alpha and reminding you that you were Rick’s and his alone. His to claim, his to protect and his to love.

Just like every other time that he kissed you, the world around you seemed to melt away and you forgot that you weren’t alone. You forgot everything except for Rick. So, you gave no resistance when his hands moved up your thighs and under your skirt. Your only reaction was to let your hips buck up with need when his fingers came into contact with your core.

He pushed your flimsy panties to the side, allowing him to feel you properly and tease you senseless. You quickly grew wet, your body perfectly tuned to respond eagerly to his touch. Rick knew exactly what you wanted, understanding what drove you towards euphoric release.

He thrust his fingers inside of you, while his thumb moved over your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. It rubbed in circular motions, occasionally flicking over the sensitive nub to stimulate you further. You moaned shamelessly, clinging to the soft lapels of his jacket.

It was that dark brown suede one, with the woollen collar that he always seemed to be wearing when he unleashed his anger on someone, after they pissed him off. Seeing him in it, earlier that day, that should have been a warning sign telling you that something bad was going to happen.

But in that moment, he had never looked more desirable as his head pulled back and you took in the raw lust in his piercing blue eyes. Tendrils of his curly hair fell down onto his face and his lips were swollen from the force of the kiss you’d just shared. He was determined to prove a point and it left you aching for him.

“You’re so wet, ‘mega,” he groaned out, fingers still plunging in and out of your pussy. “Just for me, right?”

“Only for you, Alpha,” you responded instantly, biting down on your lower lip in an attempt to stifle your moans.

“What do you want, baby?” He asked, fingers curling inside of you. “Tell me.”

“I want you,” was your breathless reply. “I need you. Your cock… inside me...”

“Beg for it.”

“What?” You asked, in a daze.

Rick pulled his fingers from you abruptly, ignoring the way you whined at the sudden empty feeling they left behind. He grabbed hold of you, turning you around until you were facing the other alpha – the man you’d forgotten was even there. He was still conscious but barely keeping his eyes open. Yet, his attention was fixed on the two of you.

“Oh god…” you whispered with embarrassment at the sudden reminder of his presence.

“Did you forget we had company, baby?” Rick asked, pressing his chest against your back as his arms held tightly to your waist. “He’s going to watch you come undone. He’s going to learn that you’re mine. Only mine.”

“Rick…”

“I told you, sweetheart,” he continued. “If you want my cock, you have to ask for it. Give him what he wanted, let him hear you beg. For me.”

“Fuck,” you groaned in response, unable to deny how turned on you were by his show of dominance.

Rick pushed down on your back, bending you forward slightly as his leg moved between yours. Your thighs spread instantly, letting him settle between them and his strong hands pushed your skirt up so that you were fully exposed to him.

Then he we went still, holding you there but no longer moving. You realised what he was waiting for, but it was humiliating to think of begging him in front of someone else.

“Omega,” he warned.

One of his hands left you and you heard the tell-tale sign of him unbuckling his belt. Just the thought of him being so close but unwilling to touch you until you did as he demanded broke your resolve.

“Oh god,” you whined out, desperate for his touch. “Please, Rick…”

The sound of his belt hitting the floor from behind you made you even more needy, because he still wasn’t touching you how you wanted him to.

“You can do better than that, ‘mega,” he replied calmly.

“Please, Alpha. Please fuck me, I need it.”

You no longer cared that you had an audience. Rick was an expert at making you come undone for him and you were at the point where you’d do anything that he asked if it meant he would give you what you so desperately craved. A deep moan escaped you when he took hold of your hips, pressing you back against him.

You realised that his pants were pulled down, allowing his hardened length to rub against you tantalisingly. But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t where you ached for him to be.

“Go on,” he coaxed you with a groan, wanting more. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need your cock,” you replied obediently. “Only yours.”

“Why?”

“Because… oh, fuck,” you faltered briefly as his erection brushed against your clit. “Because you’re the only one who can make me feel good.”

“That’s right,” he agreed, pleased with your words. “And where do you want it, baby?”

“Rick!” You whined, unable to comprehend how he was so composed or how he still wasn’t satisfied.

“Tell me,” he insisted, one hand tugging at your hair and pulling your head back.

“I need your cock inside me,” you gave in. “Deep inside my pussy. Please, please, please… I need it so badly!”

“Such a dirty mouth,” he let out a light laugh.

“Rick, please, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Okay, baby,” he soothed you, lining himself up at your entrance. “Since you begged me so nicely.”

He didn’t wait for a response, thrusting into you hard and fast, his cock pushing in, right to the hilt. The moan that escaped you was primal and desperate as your pussy clenched around him in response.

“See how well she responds to me?” Rick asked, no longer talking to you.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you attempted to block it out. But it was impossible, because your body was so acclimated to taking in his every word.

“You know,” he continued, still pounding into you from behind. “She’s still just as tight as the first time I fucked her. This pussy was made for me. Enjoy the show, because this is the only time you’ll ever see her like this.”

“Rick,” you cried out, going crazy from the way he was speaking. “Oh god, don’t stop!”

It ashamed you how much it turned you on. You were absolutely dripping, not only from his actions, but from his possessive display of dominance.

“Hear that?” He continued taunting the other man. “This is how an alpha fucks his omega. And you? All you can do is watch.”

“Please, I’m so close…” you begged, your mind in an absolute daze.

“No,” Rick denied, his words now meant for you. “You don’t get to cum until I tell you to.”

You whined obstinately, but you both knew that he had you wrapped around his finger and that you’d do whatever he said. Your body rocked forward with every brutal thrust, and he knew exactly what he was doing to you, but he still had a point to prove.

“She’s mine,” Rick grit out, sounding like he was getting closer to the edge – of both his release and his sanity. “Every single part of her is attuned to me. If she begs, it’ll be because I tell her to. The only alpha she’s ever gonna know is me.”

It was like a sweet sense of euphoria when his hand moved down between your legs, and he brought his attention back to your aching clit.

“You’re so good to me, aren’t you baby?” He praised, his lips right by your ear.

“Yes,” you replied, desperate to cum. “Yes, only for you, Rick.”

His thumb rubbed over your sensitive nub and your pussy contracted around him in response.

“That’s it,” he coaxed you, voice low and reverberating through his chest against your back. “Cum for me sweetheart, let me feel you squeezing around me.”

“Fuck!” You moaned out desperately as he flicked his thumb over your clit and sent your body crashing over the edge.

Rick let out desperate sounds of his own as he pushed into you deeply, holding you steady against him. Then, the hand he still had holding onto your hair forced your head to tilt to the side, offering your neck to him.

His head bent down and his lips came into contact with your mating gland before he sunk his teeth into the skin, reclaiming you so that there would be no doubt about who you belonged to. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a scream – it was partly from pain, as the old wound was reopened, but mostly it was from a deep and intense sense of pleasure as he re-staked his claim.

Then you felt his cock twitch before he came deep inside of you, his other hand resting over your lower abdomen possessively. Rick kept you close to him, making sure you took every last drop while his tongue soothed the spot on your neck that would always keep you tied together.

He traced light patterns along your stomach, comforting you as you both came down from your high. Eventually, he pressed one last kiss to your sensitive gland before pulling back and sliding out of you. He fixed your skirt, moving it back down before he righted his own clothing, pulling his pants back up and covering himself again.

You swayed a little on the spot, still in a bit of a daze. He seemed instantly aware of how exhausted and spent your body was, because he wrapped his arms around you, turning you to face him.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he promised. “I’ve got you.”

Your head fell to his chest, and you let out a content sigh as he pulled you into a protective hug. When your body had settled and you were able to support yourself, Rick pulled away and brought his attention back to the other alpha.

Dylan began breathing heavily as Rick walked back over to him. But he was so beaten, bloody and bruised that he couldn’t seem to say anything. You watched as your alpha gave him one last, hard punch to the face, knocking him out cold again.

“Rick, this is not good,” you said, reality and all its repercussions coming back to you. “Once Deanna finds out –”

“Hey,” he cut you off, moving back over to you. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry, okay?”

His expression had softened again, and he reached out to take your hands in his. You wanted to trust him, because he’d never let you down before, but Alexandria was so different to what you’d experienced since the loss of the farm, and you didn’t want to lose the sense of security and normalcy that it provided.

“Y/N,” he held your gaze, his voice filled with conviction. “I love you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You couldn’t hold back a smile at his words, and you nodded, letting your instinct to trust him overcome all of your doubts.

“I love you too,” you replied softly.

He grinned in response, pulling you closer and capturing your lips in a gentle and loving kiss. As usual, everything else seemed to fade away until all that was left was Rick and your unwavering faith in him.

Next Work

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x f!reader #rick grimes/reader #alpha rick grimes #alpha!rick grimes x omega!reader #omega reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfic #twd smut #twd fanfic #female reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes/you

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way-of-love · 2 years ago

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Oooh can you write a Namor x Reader!waterbender/powers where he meets her and is immediately attracted to her. While she is like I wanna fight this guy because he's such an arrogant douche. And namor is like damn she's hot when she's angry and the fight is basically foreplay for them and they end up being insanely attracted and horny at the end of it.

OOOOOOO Yes I can! This'll be a oneshot, just becuase I have too much on my plate to write. Happy New Years!

Also, forgive me if it seems kinda off been having writers block for the past few weeks!

It was told though mouth-of-mouth that the 'power to manipulate the water was given to everyone, if it were given to everyone it wouldn't be so special anymore.' Your mother once told you that when you first showed signs of the hydrokinetic ability at the ripe age of 4, with no help from the father you inherited it from you had to teach yourself how to control those abilities, how to grow them and how to not use them for you r own gain.

This power could have made you a god or even the next Avengers if you embraced it how your cousin Aspen Matthews did. But, she was the star of the family, there can never be two. If so one will try hard to outshine the other. Hence your mother made you swear you'd keep it a secret from everyone in her family, your friends, your lovers, even your best friend who was as normal as they can get.

'No one will ever understand your hardship! They'll turn you into a lab rat!'

It was hard to ever embrace your power thanks to your mothers harsh words. After discovering your powers, she became very...paranoid about them. Telling you all these things the government would do to you if you ever used them in public, and how you could never be as strong as your cousin Aspen, she was the golden child, you were just the extra.

That can surely crush a child's confidence.

But you grew up hidden. Making sure no one saw you use your abilities, never used them in public only at home in the shower or at a lake. Yet, it called to you. It always beckoned you to the sea.

The inconceivably vast briny deep waters yelled at you with their tides crashing against the sandy shore and the waves waving at you like a temptress beckoning her lover. You've never been to the sea. And the day that you did, you regretted it, dreadfully so.

Another day another boring and very tedious chore of listening to this man yap away about his plans for the future, your future with him to be exact. Honestly, you don't understand why you entertain this dummy! While giving him a good once over you narrowed your eyes and came to a solid conclusion.

You were just lonely.

After living alone for a few months in isolation you met a strange sea man, he wasn't dangerous nor was he a threat. Well, unless you considered annoying a threat.

It was everyday, every single day, he'd come up to shore at the same time and his mouth spewed out these sentences that irked you, it made your blood boil and you had no choice but to retaliate with your own words then it came down to your fists. He discovered your power when you were being careless on his way back from taking down a whole ship that sought out pure vibranium from his waters.

Currently you were in the midst of throwing icy water disks you created from the sea at the flying sea king who finally got you to this point. It was always something with this guy and his,'...let's burn the world together,' that never sat well with you. Hell, if you were any hopeless romantic chick you'd say yes before he finished asking. Because admit it, he was a king, a god, a mutant like you and he looked...good. Some would say you were stupid to deny him anymore than you have but you were going on a solid five months telling him no.

But the stubborn king didn't take no for an answer. Each and every time he came to the surface with a different reason why you should join with him. You heard him out at first and after you got comfortable with him around and understood why he wanted to destroy the surface being all nice and even flirty, he asked to use your power and exploit it. To destroy a nation that was hidden away from the world and for the entire planet to fear you.

Namor knew it wasn't a good idea to use your loneliness or your vulnerability you had to the world but he was desperate. He wanted to use your power, yes, but he wanted your hand along with it. He didn't want the world to know you as 'Y/N, Wakandas Destroyer,' He wanted you to be,'Y/N, The Feathered Serpents Wife' or even 'Y/N Talokans Queen.' Any of that would be acceptable but you cut him off before he could finish explaining.

Hence the physcal fights started. You didn't enjoy them but it sure felt good to kick water boys ass once in a while when you did. He on the other hand loved watching your both twist and turn, hands moving majestically through the air and summoning the waters he cherrished so much being loved by your fingertips.

Even if he was on the deadly side of those attacks he loved every minute of it. He made it clear that he loved it, getting hit, getting cut, bruised, he took it all because that was the only caresses he would get from you and he would smirk everytime he got hit.

It infurriated you. Why would he keep coming back if he got hurt all the time? Once, you beat him so bad he didn't get up. Attuma had to drag him back while shaking his head at his king. And his king being dragged back into the sea with a phantom of a smile on his bleeding lip. Namora knew Namor was holding back because of how he felt though he never said anything it was as clear as day that the king fancied you.

Panting you raised your hands in a defensive position. Your legs felt like jelly and your arms trembled. He looked ever the more dangerous right now and you weren't sure why, even Attuma and Namora who stood by the waters edge watched him come at you with all that he had and you barely dodged his attacks. It was like he was a whole different person, no more playful Namor, now stood before you was a hardened seasoned warrior of old and he was wounded.

What happened to him after those two weeks? He didn't visit you but Namora and Attuma did but barely. They were very vague about details and said Namor would explain when he came to see you again but there were no words spoken between the two except the one warning he gave you before locking fists together.

"Prepare."

You were just about to give up but you knew better than to do so. "You're so annoying and its fucking frustrating! Why did you even show up here in the first place if all you wanted from me was my power. You'll never get-"

A tanned fist came at you at lighting speed, you had your hands raised but when you were talking you left yourself open. He was going to kill you.

When that fist came it didn't connect with any part of your face or shoulders, instead you were lucky enough to be standing by a palm tree. It connected with that but you got the wind of it, with such force your bangs and loose pieces of hair went everywhere. First, a loud groan from the tree echoed through the small area around you then snapping, crackling and popping, the fibers of the wood breaking apart before finally a loud thud. But you didn't move, instead you stared wide eyed into the molten chocolate passionate eyes of the god king who was breathing heavily in front of you.

You always admired how he talked about his people, his land from before, his family, his time roaming the seas. You even enjoyed the looks he gave you when the both of you sparred just for fun but that was before he decided to go to war with Wakanda. After that it annoyed you.

Now, starring at how he looked at you with those lovely eyes made you yearn for 'what could have been'.

Dropping your arms and your stance you stood straight and proud. " I accept my defeat. As promised you can ask something of me,"

There was a set of rules the two for you followed when one lost or yielded:

Leave ego at the door.

Respect each others boundaries.

Whomever is knocked down or yields must do one thing the victor says.

The rules were easy and simple but you always won, he always told you he'd want to see you often and you banishing him from seeing you was definitely out of the question. So, you always asked for little things, trinkets from Talokan, foods from his city, and a chance to see the exotic fish humans would only dream of seeing but unfortunately some species would not survive up near the surface so you put a pin in that request.

Now, he was the victor. Dropping his tanned arm he moved closer to you placing his large warm hands on each of your upper arms gently squeezing. His eyes never leaving yours.

"You. Y/N, I want you,"

Your eyes widened a tad at his wish, a victor always got what they wanted if it didn't push the boundaries and that was one of the things you said he can never have. You.

You began to shake your head prepared to tell him that was her rule, she could never be his, your power could never be his but he shut you up by covering your mouth with his warm hand.

How rude! You narrowed your eyes at him hoping he had a good reason to be touching you in such a way.

" I know I can not have your power or whatever, but I don't want that. I want you, your body, I want to ruin you Y/N in every physical way possible until all your can think about is me," His voice was low and he leaned in close until his forehead rested upon your own hot one. Your face was red. Did his war leave him mental? Or was it the heat of this battle? Slowly he removed is hand from over your mouth.

Whichever it was it suddenly made your core tighten with a familiar squeeze you haven't felt in a while. Were you aroused by this? Yes, your sparring sometimes left you a bit flustered thanks to the words that were exchanged between the two of you but that couldn't lead to this. You were denying him what he wanted and he was unyielding of his decision, his request. Nevertheless, what he said plainly made you view him a little differently.

His arm retracted but before he took it back his warm fingers brushed against your red cheek followed by his palm, now he cradled your cheek in his hand. Namor made sure your eyes never left his praying that the emotions that played in his eyes were enough to confirm what he said. That's when you knew that he wasn't the only one who felt that same feeling.

Attuma and Namora looked at the scene and quickly scurried, well Namora forced Attuma to leave because he was ready to sit down and watch the show.

Soon the both of you were the only ones at the beach hidden by thick trees and rocks.

"Namor...Ku'kul'kan, I might be falling deep," Your voice trembled and it was quiet. There was a heat bubbling in the air between the two of you the more you realized that his words weren't just for show. they weren't painted sweet. He meant them.

With eyes casted down afraid if you looked at him further you'd loose yourself to t his sweet feeling that you just couldn't handle. Even feeling how awkward you felt Namor, without a word took your other cheek in his free palm and forced you to lift your head so you starred directly into his eyes. He was closer to you now both of your noses barley touching one another, both lips parted so your soft breathless pants mixed with his own.

"I've already fallen Y/N, I'll catch here at the bottom," With his breathless voice and your hesitancy to stop him he pushed his lips onto yours. It may have been brief but you were shocked but soon you closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders touching his bare tanned skin feeling the flesh that you wanted to so badly bruise, tear apart and scar. Now you wanted to caress it and hold it.

He seemed to have the same thoughts because he tilted his head to the side forcing his hot tongue past your parted lips and dropped his large hands to your sides pulling at your flimsy shirt. He was already half naked while you still wore fabrics, it wasn't fair.

With tongue clashing against tongue you were surprised you were keeping up with the king of the deep with how thick and skilled his tongue was. Not even men you had fling with kissed this...this romantically. Your heart was beating so quickly in your chest you could hear it pounding in your ears!

Was this what it felt like to have your feelings returned? Was this what it meant to lust, to like, to...possibly love someone?

Breaking the kiss you had to pushed against his shoulders to give yourself some space, your lips were red swollen and wet, "Wait- wait we need-"

Again, you were cut off by yet another kiss you couldn't help but succumb to. Knees buckled and legs turned to jelly causing you to lose your balance and slip onto your knees , he feel to his knees with you breaking the kiss and next his lips your on your neck licking and kissing what he could of your sweaty flesh making you moan and shove at his shoulders. But it was like pushing a freaking wall of muscle! He wouldn't budge.

"N-Namor please," Your voice pleaded, whiney, to have him release you but alas he pretended not to hear your voice and pushing the sleeve of your top off your shoulder revealing your true flesh where the sea king greedily kissed, nipped and licked.

"I'm trying to catch you, I don't want you to hurt when you get down here mi reina," Deep, accented, rich and low.

Honestly, you didn't expect this outcome whatsoever. This was just sudden, and very surprising. A surprise that had your core tighten and caused a pool of heat to make itself known between your squeezing thighs, you were.. aroused.

A man of his caliber, a man who you avoided feelings for and masked it as annoying, a man who thought war was his only means of protecting his people, a man who almost killed you, made you feel as aroused as a whore in Babylon who hasn't had sex in weeks.

Well, not the best analogy but the idea was still there.

Before you knew it you let him push you onto your back into the sand, he slid between your legs and one hand was gripping the sand by the side of your head as the other reached for under your shirt. While caressing the flesh at your tummy he raised your shirt.

"Now you're docile, its cute to see you this way mi reina." He smirked while his hand fully slipped under your shirt and his fingers brushed against the underside of your breast. Why you didn't wear a bra today? Because you truly didn't expect t have company over like this.

Your cheeks redden and you quickly took hold of his hand stopping him from fully grasping your bare tit.

"I...this is embarrassing Namor," You cleared your throat," We were literally just fighting and now we're, what are we doing?"

Namore smiled, not his cheeky cocky smile but a genuine smile," We are just two people enjoying some time at a beach, two natural bodies who just so happen to be compatible enough to enjoy a dance that many before us enjoyed between man and woman,"

He scooted further forcing your legs to spread and hang around his thighs lazily, and you felt him. Hidden beneath those dark green trunks of his was a long hard slab of flesh already threatening to rip through the marital and it was pressing against your loose short shorts. Unfortunately, they were so loose they didn't bother to cover your snatch. Your trimmed bare snatch.

When you said you weren't prepared for anything you sure weren't, it was a laundry day so everything was being washed and or dried. Meaning panties, bras and even the good clothes you'd fight the sea king with.

He noticed in your fight a small glimpse of what you hid beneath thanks to your loose fitting clothes so it certainly helped him get riled up while he riled you up. A win was a win regardless of its means.

Namor had you beneath him almost as bare as he, if not more so, ready to receive because he already felt the slick wetness of your arousal against his trunk covered shaft.

"So, that means the sooner we couple the more we can realize just how badly we truly needed each other," Sliding one hand down to his golden belt he undid it carefully making sure to press that hard print against your cunt, squishing both sexes together while the claps were undone. He pulled the golden belt away from his waist and dropped it somewhere in the sand.

Did your bodies need each other? By the way your slick juice was leaving a slight damp mark on his trousers you'd say yes.

"We do fight each other very well, so maybe we do fuck well too," It embarrassed you to even say such a sentence. Especially when all you've been spewing from your mouth were insults and threats all directed towards him.

On the other hand he enjoyed seeing you struggle talking dirty to him. All those threats and insults fueled him and made him harder than he ever was and it was all thanks to you. While watching you he hooked his thumb on the waistband of his trunks and pulled them down, with urgency and you lifted your hips just as eager to finally catch that large slab of meat with your awaiting cunt with a loud wet slap.

You didn't bother to look at the dark tanned throbbing erection of his that was already beading at the tip. Okay, maybe you did but the slap to your cunt made your eyes to flutter closed briefly while a deep sigh of satisfaction left your lips.

Namor groaned under his breath as he prepared standing straighter and laying his cock over your mound and tummy. And with a thick warm finger he guided it over the length of himself before finally reaching to an area above your belly button, right where he measured the tip of his bulbous cock.

"This...this is where my cock is going to reach deep inside you,"

Your hand gripped his forearm that rested in the sand next to your hip,"You'll-tear me apart Namor," You whined squirming already.

He reared his hips back and made sure to position his tip between your puffy folds, you were already oozing with anticipation ready to start yet another fight with him, but this time with your full body.

The sea god hissed softly running his length up and down between your folds hearing how slick you were, it was a sound not even the sea can mimic. A real woman wet and ready was a gift man should always cherish.

And now a man of the water was going to drown in it.

"Then mi reina, lets count this as a win for me."

Without warning he found your entrance and pierced you, you welcomed him with a tight hot embrace of an eager cunt. A cunt he was already losing to. He was met with little resistance but there was some when he went further than any pervious man has ever gone.

It made you almost shriek! You grabbed his arm and placed a hand on hos abdomen making him stop. You were panting starring up at him with wide eyes, "Wait! Wait please-"

Taking your hands he held each one by the wrist and made sure you wouldn't escape from his grasp. God, you already knew what he was going to do.

The sea king looked down at you with a burning desire to ravish all that you were and to bring forth a destruction that lead to your end, an end that left you limp and drooling no doubt.

"And this, is where I catch you."

Using your hands as anchors to reel you back into his thrusts. And fit finally, he did. You were speechless when his hips connected with your ass making you bonce with each thrust, the claps, the plaps echoed along the beach and thankfully not a soul was in sight.

Finally you let out a sob like cry of pleasure when his finally let go of your hands just to grab your hips and lift them up a bit so his cock hit that one spot that made your toes curl. How did he know that was the spot?

With your back arched and head rolled back into the sand your only view was the sky and the ocean, waves of calm brushing against the shore one after the other almost mimicking Namors thrusts. It was driving you crazy.

"I-It feels so-" You gasped and your eyes crossed a bit as your body jiggled and bounced." So, so good!"

The poor sea king was groaning above you gripping your hips and concentrating on hitting the spots he guessed felt good to you, of course, it was purely guessing. Maybe the two of you were meant for each other. The soft caresses of your hands reached for each of his forearms and held them, anchoring to them.

He leaned forward over your body while animalistically gripping those hips of yours like a mad dog and placed open mouthed kisses along your tensed jaw and parted lips.

"Mine, mi reina magnifica," A groan was ripped from his throat and filtered through your hungry mouth, your hands no longer by his forearms but slid up to his cradle his cheeks in each palm. You were close to that sudden release but yet you didn't want it to end here. Your body hummed with the nickname and brought forth a shiver throughout your body.

With a few more powerful thrusts he suddenly

stopped with eyes closed and lips parted panting.

Was he...was he done already?

Panting yourself you placed kisses around his lips, his nose and forehead while wrapping your legs tighter around his waist.

"P-please you can't stop now, not when I'm so close you jerk,"

The words left you in a breathless annoyed huff. How dare he stop in the middle of pounding your insides. Opening his eyes once again he smirked and removed his hands from your hips, he moved them up and around you sliding an arm under and around your bare waist as the other wrapped under and around your shoulders securing himself down to you. You were forced to wrap your arms around his neck.

His face was buried into the crook of your neck," Forgive me my love, you're just so tight," Without further delay he began and this time he gave you no mercy. You could hear his teeth grind by your ear while he concentrated on controlling his hips to give you that mind blowing orgasm you've been needing.

It didn't take long before you came with a sob, digging your nails into his fleshy back and toes curling from the intensity of it. Fucking out in a public space and with the man you thought was the most annoying thing on this planet who was actually very into you, made this even more mind blowing than it was.

Soon, Namor the sea king quickly whipped his cock right out of that tight embrace of your walls and spent himself on your tummy. His load shot out so far it caught your parted lips and cheek, he panted heavily by your ear trying to catch his breath.

He shuddered and slowly straightened up he ran a sandy hand through his dark locks and smirked down at you.

"I told you I'd catch you."

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