#one hand around your mouth to keep you quiet

[gf2bellamy]

movie — spencer reid

pairing : spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: spencer accidentally uses the word "we" content warnings: secret relationship , rossi playfully getting mad at reader , mention of closed case a/n: me and emily share the same opinion

The weight of the case you had just wrapped up still lingered, but for once, it wasn’t suffocating. You had saved the victim—just in time. It was the kind of win that made the exhaustion a little easier to bear, the long hours and dark realities a little more worth it. 

You sat across from Spencer in the jet, your legs subtly interlocked with his beneath the table—not obvious but enough to feel content.

He held a book in his hands, fingers resting against the worn spine, but his eyes weren’t on the pages. Instead, he was listening as the team engaged in a heated debate over movies. 

"The Thing is a must-watch movie,” Rossi declared, leaning back in his seat with the confidence of a man who had lived long enough to know a classic when he saw one. “I mean, come on—it’s a masterpiece.” 

Emily scoffed, arms crossed. “It’s just a bunch of paranoid guys stuck in the snow. Half of them barely have personalities.” 

“That’s what makes it brilliant,” Spencer interjected, his voice slipping into the conversation as easily as he slipped into statistics. “The isolation, the uncertainty of who’s human and who’s not—it’s a perfect study of paranoia.The ambiguity of the ending only adds to the tension.” 

You bit your lip to keep from smiling. That was Spencer—effortlessly brilliant, unknowingly endearing. 

Derek chuckled. “And here we go with the movie analytics.” 

Spencer smiled apologetically but didn’t say anything, instead he shifted slightly in his seat. His knee pressed a little more firmly against yours. You smiled softly at your boyfriend.

As the conversation continued, you watched Spencer’s fingers absently trace the edges of his book.

“What’s your opinion on it?” Derek asked, nodding at you. You had been quiet throughout the discussion, content to listen rather than participate. 

You shrugged, feeling everyone’s attention shifting to you. “Don’t have one,” you admitted casually. 

Derek raised a brow. “How do you not have an opinion?” 

“I’ve never watched it.” 

The moment the words left your mouth, you felt the entire mood in the jet shift. Rossi let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head in what could only be described as theatrical disappointment.

“This generation,” Rossi muttered under his breath, exasperated. 

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Is it really that big of a deal?” 

Spencer, who had been quiet until now, suddenly shifted his leg against yours—just a small movement, but enough to catch your attention. When you glanced at him, he met your gaze with a look of utter disbelief. 

“Yes,” he said simply, siding with the rest of the team without hesitation. 

Even Emily, who had just been trashing the movie moments ago, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you kind of have to watch it at least once. It’s a cultural milestone.” 

“I just don’t see the appeal,” you said, shrugging. 

Rossi let out another dramatic sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as if you had personally offended him. “Young lady, I expect you to watch this movie in the next three days—at the very least. And if you don’t—” He turned to Hotch, completely serious. “Aaron, I want you to fire her.” 

You laughed quietly, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, glancing around at your teammates, who still looked thoroughly scandalized. 

Before you could protest further, Spencer spoke up, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. “We can watch it tomorrow if you want.” 

The second the words left his mouth, you felt your entire body freeze. Slowly, you turned to look at him, eyes wide. 

Spencer, who had seemed completely unaware of his slip-up, only realized what he had just said when he saw your expression. His lips parted slightly as if he was about to backtrack, but then he clamped his mouth shut, looking like he wanted to disappear into his chair. 

For a split second, there was silence—thick, heavy, and dangerous. 

And then— 

“What?” Derek’s voice cut through the air, loud and full of suspicion. 

Without thinking, you kicked Spencer lightly under the table, your foot making solid but harmless contact with his shin. He flinched slightly, but to his credit, he barely reacted otherwise, keeping his face neutral even as you shot him a look that screamed really? 

Morgan narrowed his eyes, shifting his gaze between the two of you. “We?” he echoed, emphasizing the word.

Emily leaned forward, suddenly interested. “Yeah, Reid. We?” 

Spencer cleared his throat, clearly trying to recover. “I—I just meant—hypothetically, if she wanted someone to watch it with, I—” 

“You’d volunteer as tribute?” Emily teased, smirking. 

“I mean—statistically speaking, it’s more enjoyable to experience a film with someone rather than alone,” Spencer rushed out, his voice just a little too high, a little too fast. 

You resisted the urge to groan. He was not helping. 

Rossi, who had been watching the exchange like it was an unfolding plot twist in one of his own novels, suddenly smirked. “Interesting.” 

Hotch, the only one who hadn’t reacted much, simply raised an eyebrow before going back to his paperwork. Which, honestly, was more terrifying than if he had said something. 

You exhaled, shaking your head, trying to brush it off. “Alright, movie night it is,” you said, forcing a casual tone. 

The team was still watching the two of you suspiciously, but after a few moments, they slowly let it go—well, for now. 

Under the table, Spencer nudged your foot in silent apology. You sighed, nudging him back. 

This was not going to be the last you heard about it. 

[fear-is-truth]

❝ V A C A N C Y ❞ ・── cho sang-woo

◟warnings — dom!sang-woo ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ unprotected p in v ⋆ MDNI 18+

it’s late. the shitty motel room is dimly lit, the neon glow from the sign outside bleeding through the dusty curtains. the air reeks with the smell of sex, sweat, stale cigarettes and cheap detergent. CHO SANG-WOO has you on your stomach, one big, calloused hand splayed between your shoulder blades, keeping you pressed into the mattress. he’s slow tonight. not in a teasing way—more like he’s savouring it, the heat of youl, the way you clench around him with every measured thrust.

“shh,” he murmurs when you whimper, his hand sliding up to the nape of your neck. he squeezes gently, thumb brushing over your pulse. “keep quiet for me.”

he’s not being mean about it. if anything, his voice is soft, damn near affectionate. but there’s an edge to it, that quiet authority that makes your stomach flip. he leans in, his chest pressing to your back, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“the walls are thin. don’t wanna wake anyone, do we?”

you shake your head, but it’s hard to focus when he’s buried so deep inside you, rolling his hips slow and steady, dragging every inch of himself along your walls. he’s so fucking deep it’s making you dizzy. his free hand slides under your body, fingertips tracing the curve of your stomach before dipping between your legs. the touch is gentle, a contrast to the firm grip still holding you down.

“fuck,” he exhales, voice rough, strained. “you feel that?” he presses his palm against your stomach, right over where he’s stretching you open. “so full, huh? taking me so well.”his pace stutters then, something raw breaking through his control. he groans into your skin, lips trailing down your neck, sucking a mark into your shoulder.

“gonna come for me, sweetheart?” his voice is low, coaxing, but there’s a quiet demand underneath the sweetness. “be good and give it to me.”

and when you do—when you shudder beneath him, nails digging into the sheets, walls fluttering around him—he exhales sharply, thrusts turning rougher, more erratic. his hand clamps over your mouth just as he groans against your shoulder, hips grinding deep, burying himself to the hilt as he comes inside you. his breath is hot against your skin, and he stays like that for a moment, pressed against you, cock still nestled deep. then, finally, he exhales, smoothing a hand over your back, thumb rubbing slow circles against your spine.

“good girl,” he mutters, kissing the nape of your neck before pulling the blanket over the both of you.

[ditzydoe444]

Thinking about farmhand!Jason or cowboy!Jason who works on readers parents farm. She still lives with her parents to help them with the farm work and obviously has a big fat crush on Jason. Like when he’s chopping wood sweaty and shirtless or how he can lift a hay bale with only one hand AHHHHHHHHHH. Anyway!!!actually just need Jason to fuck her in the back of the barn (probs in the haystack OOPS) and he’s covering her mouth as he’s rutting into her cuz he can’t let them get caught and let everyone know what a slut the town sweetheart is can he?

-🍼

MDNI 18+

a/n: i did cowboy jason because i love them

jason wasn’t dumb, he knew about your wondering eyes staring at his body when he chopped wood, or how you would pretend to ‘read’ outside when he took care of the farm shirtless on a hot day. you grew up in a sheltered household, living on the farm far away from town didn’t help. “jacey you need help?” you spoke sweetly as you watched him chop wood, his muscles flexing and the slight tan on his skin glistened.

“nah don’t worry ‘bout that sweetheart ‘ve got it.”

he thought your not so discrete crush on him was adorable, as you grew up isolated you had very little friends hence why you followed him around like a little puppy.

it was harmless until the two of you started fucking.

“j-jacey jacey,” you panted as he fucked you in the barn, rutting against you as you laid on the haystack. it wasn’t comfortable by any means, but having a giant man built like a greek god buried deep inside you rubbing your gummy walls making your mind go blank, how could you complain? the barn was the safest place out of the farm, the only area where your parents didn’t wander around because they thought you were too prim and proper for a dirty place like it. “so good sweetheart you’re so tight,” he groaned as his nails dug into your soft flesh.

“so deep, so big,” you mumbled like a mantra, your eyes wide and dazed from the pleasure whilst a sheen of sweat covered your soft skin. one of jason’s hand covered your mouth, “ssshh sweetheart, need to keep quiet for me alright?”

jason was well loved by her parents, they saw him as a respectable man who helped the farm, not a man desperate and greedy for their daughter’s pussy.

he watched as the bulge in your stomach moved, how your small cunt was able to accomodate to his size alone was mesmerising. he watched as your hand weakly traced his biceps, going through every little detail and tracing the veins along it. “you’re so big jacey,” you mumbled though he came out muffled due to his hand.

he chuckled softly, kissing your neck as he continued to rut into you. “just for you sweetheart, a princess like you needs a man.”

jason was a possessive man, there was no way in hell that he would have some sort of preppy boy date you. you needed a man who would pick you up on dates in a large rusty truck, one that could build the house of your dreams with enough land that you could run and giggle along, and reassure you softly when you need it the most.

he knew your parents thought about marrying some sort of 9-5 office man in the small town, but that just wouldn’t make you happy. you were a princess, you had dreams that a skimpy cooperate man couldn’t provide. jason could build you the house of your dreams, a porch with a swing so you could read and admire him as he worked, a sunroom so you could bathe in sunlight without getting out when it’s hot and sticky with the bugs and of course small pink details and accents scattered everywhere for you to find when you’re bored.

“mmm, jacey ‘m close,” you whined as you shut your eyes from the feeling on your lower stomach, his strong hands gently coaxing your orgasm as they squeezed your lower stomach. he watches as your glossy pussy clenched around him, almost milking him. “come on sweetheart you can do it, just keep it quiet can’t have the town knowing i’m fucking the neighbourhood’s princess.”

[bytemee]

HOUSE OF BALLOONS — YU JIMIN.

“you're in my world now, you can stay, you can stay. but you belong to me, ooh, you belong to me."

synopsis. karina wasn’t used to sharing. seeing you laugh with someone else? that didn’t sit right with her.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). 18+ (smut), g!p reader, pet names (she calls u puppy like it’s ur name), unprotected sex, p in v, jealous!karina, dom!karina, sub!reader and bad writing ahaa...

words. 1.6k

authors note. i could go for a chipotle burrito but damn do they be taxing

karina was used to having all eyes on her. she was the kind of girl who walked into a room and made everyone else feel like background noise. and you—shy, awkward, always fumbling over your words—were her favorite plaything.

it wasn’t like you were dating. she just liked keeping you close, liked the way you turned red when she got too close, and liked knowing that you’d drop everything the second she called.

but tonight, you weren’t where you were supposed to be.

she had invited you to the party—expected you to hover near her like always, expected you to wait for her to give you attention. but instead, you were downstairs, sitting on the couch, laughing at something some random girl said.

karina didn’t like that.

she watched from across the room, arms crossed, lips pursed, as she saw the way you were smiling—actually smiling—in front of someone else.

when the girl leaned in a little too close, touching your arm, something snapped.

before you even realized what was happening, karina was in front of you, slipping between you and the girl with a sickly sweet smile.

"oh, i see you’ve met my little puppy," she said smoothly, tilting her head. "careful with this one. she gets nervous around new people.”

you were about to open your mouth to say something then she sat down on your lap, draping her arms over your shoulders. you swallowed hard, your face going pink, completely caught off guard.

karina had always been shameless with her teasing, but this—this was different. she was staking a claim, making sure everyone in the room knew exactly who you belonged to.

the girl you had been talking to gave an awkward laugh, clearly unsure of what to do now that karina had inserted herself into the situation.

"uh, i was just—"

"leaving?" karina finished for her, still smiling, though it was obvious she wanted her gone.

the girl hesitated, looking between the two of you before mumbling some excuse and disappearing into the crowd.

you barely had a second to process what just happened before karina’s fingers were suddenly in your hair, twirling a loose strand between her fingers as she leaned in even closer.

your eyes widened, your face burning up under the intense stare she was giving you. you swallowed thickly, your hands gripping the couch, unsure of where else to put them.

and then, just when you thought she couldn't get any closer, she did, her lips brushing against your ear. "don't look so surprised, puppy."

she pulled away just enough to look into your eyes again. then she got up from your lap, smoothing out her skirt before grabbing your hand and pulling you upstairs, away from all the prying eyes.

and you let her.

karina didn’t waste a second. she shoved you into the first empty room she found, kicking the door shut behind her before pinning you against the wall.

it didn’t matter whether you were hers in name—because in every way that counted, you were. and tonight, she was making sure everyone knew it.

her lips crashed against yours, rough and claiming, like she had something to prove. and maybe she did. maybe she needed to remind you exactly where you belonged.

karina was a damn good kisser, and the longer she kissed you, the harder it got to stand on your own. your fingers curled into her shirt, clinging to her for support, a quiet gasp slipping past your lips.

she loved this. loved how easily she could pull you apart, how simple it was to make you forget everything but her.

when she finally pulled away, a thin strand of saliva still connected you for a brief second before it snapped, leaving you breathless. your head spun, your lips swollen, and you just stood there, waiting—because she was the one in control, and you both knew it.

her nails raked across your skin, making their way under your shirt, and you bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan.

"you don't want anyone else, do you, hm?" she asked, her voice low and soft. she leaned in again, her lips brushing against your jaw, the gentle touch a sharp contrast to the way her nails dug into your hips.

you shook your head quickly, your heart racing in your chest, because no, no, you only wanted her. you only ever wanted her.

karina hummed, satisfied, her grip tightening just enough to make you gasp. "good," she murmured, "because i don't like sharing."

her teeth grazed your skin, and your breath hitched, fingers twitching where they hovered uncertainly at your sides. you wanted to touch her, wanted to pull her closer, but you knew better than to move without permission.

she noticed, of course she did, and it made her smirk against your throat. "what is it, puppy?" she taunted. "you want to touch me?"

you nodded, swallowing hard. "please," you whispered, barely able to get the word out.

karina pulled back just enough to look at you, tilting her head like she was considering it. her fingers trailed up your sides before she finally grabbed your wrists and guided your hands under her skirt until your fingers brushed against her underwear.

"there," she breathed out. "is that what you wanted?"

she was so wet, and the thought that she was this turned on because of you—because she was claiming you as her own—made you whine, the sound almost desperate.

"karina," you pleaded, the bulge in your pants growing more uncomfortable by the second.

karina's smirk widened. "you want me to touch you?" she asked, her breath hot against your ear.

you nodded frantically, still unable to form words, too overwhelmed by desire to do anything except obey.

"use your words." karina's grip tightened on your wrists.

"please," you whimpered, voice shaking. "please, touch me, i need you."

she hummed, satisfied. "that's what i like to hear."

and then her fingers were working at the buttons of your jeans, her other hand reaching under your shirt, sliding up your stomach before pressing against it to push you onto the bed, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss that left you breathless.

"karina," you moaned. "i—fuck..."

she didn't waste any time. as soon as you were flat on the bed, she crawled on top of you, straddling your waist, grinding against your thigh as her fingers wrapped around your cock.

karina chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. "you're so sensitive," she purred, her hand moving slowly, teasingly.

you whimpered, your hips moving involuntarily. you were starting to unravel, quickly losing control. karina knew it, and she loved it.

"is this what you wanted, puppy?" she asked, her lips brushing against your neck. "you like it when i touch you like this?"

all you could manage was a ragged moan in response.

her hand moved faster, sending a shock through your system, and you threw your head back, eyes squeezing shut. it felt so fucking good, and you couldn't think, couldn't speak, could only let her do whatever she wanted.

then suddenly she stopped.

your eyes snapped open, and you let out a whine, desperate for more.

karina ignored you, instead pulling her underwear down, kicking it to the side before she straddled your waist again, lining herself up with your cock.

her hands pressed against your chest for balance as she started to move, rolling her hips at an excruciatingly slow pace.

you groaned, your fingers digging into the sheets, trying to keep yourself from just taking over and flipping your positions. you knew that would just earn you a sharp slap and a scolding, something that you would much rather avoid.

karina leaned down, hovering her underwear above your mouth, a wicked glint in her eyes.

"open up," she commanded.

you obeyed, and she stuffed the fabric into your mouth. it tasted like her, and the thought of that alone made you twitch inside her.

your hands moved to grip her thighs, fingers pressing into the soft skin, holding her steady as she rocked her hips.

she let out a breathy moan as you tightened your grip on her. "fuck," she panted, her breaths coming in short gasps. "just like that."

you tried to say something, but all that came out was muffled by the underwear she had shoved into your mouth. karina smirked, her pace increasing, the heat in her core growing stronger, spreading through her body. she threw her head back, a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead.

"fuck," she groaned. "i'm gonna cum."

she could feel it building, her walls clenching around you, and she knew she was close. she knew the sight of her falling apart would send you over the edge, too, and that's what she wanted, needed, craved.

her grip tightened, nails digging into your chest, her breathing erratic, her hips rocking faster, harder. she was right there, teetering on the edge, and then finally, she toppled over.

"fuck!" she cried out, her orgasm ripping through her, her legs trembling.

the moment she started to come undone, so did you, unable to hold back any longer; you groaned into the underwear, your head thrown back, your spine arching off the mattress, thrusting your hips upwards as you came.

your hands held her in place, gripping her thighs so hard they would leave marks, but neither of you cared.

karina slumped against you, her chest heaving, her face buried in the crook of your neck. she was panting, trying to catch her breath, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart against your skin.

after a few moments, she pulled away, sitting back on your lap, a satisfied smile on her face. she reached forward and slowly pulled the underwear out of your mouth, her gaze fixed on you, taking in the aftermath of what she had done to you.

"mmm, looks like my puppy is satisfied."

you blinked, trying to clear the haze from your mind, but all you could focus on was the sight of her sitting on top of you, the mess dripping down her thighs, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen.

she looked so perfect.

"do you understand now?" she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice. "no one else gets to touch you like this. no one but me."

you nodded, still unable to find your words.

"good," she purred, leaning in and kissing you, soft and gentle, a stark contrast to how she had been before.

[steddieas-shegoes]

because it's yours

for @steddielovemonth using the quote prompt: "If there is love, smallpox scars are as pretty as dimples. I'd love your face no matter what it looks like. Because it's yours." - Stephen King

rated t | 1250 words | no cw | tags: post-vecna, eddie munson lives, pre-relationship, injury recovery, first kiss, getting together

▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️

Eddie’s not allowed visitors in the hospital, at least according to Wayne and Hopper. It’s for his own safety, they say.

Steve knows that’s partially bullshit. He’s good at sensing bullshit. But he plays along anyway, convinces the kids to just visit Max and they’ll plan a welcome home party for Eddie when he’s released. It gets harder by the day, especially when all the news they hear is that Eddie is healing well and should be good to go home even sooner than they thought.

No one tells them when he’s released.

Steve only finds out because he walks by the room Eddie’s been in, and instead of the door being closed, it’s wide open. There’s unfamiliar voices coming from the room. It could be doctors or nurses, but something makes him pause and peek in the doorway.

It’s an older woman and what appears to be her adult children, all of them having a very serious conversation about how she needs to be more careful while gardening.

Steve leaves before he’s caught eavesdropping.

He considers stopping by Dustin’s, see if he’s heard the news. Maybe the kids found out first.

Who is Steve to Eddie really?

Just because they gave each other looks and flirted a little and Steve carried him out of the Upside Down and-

He swallows the hurt and decides to go straight to Wayne’s new trailer. It’s just outside of town, easy to get to even with the damage done by the cracks. He’s been there a few times to check on him, even helped him set up his cable.

When Wayne opens the door, Steve knows something is off.

He doesn’t invite him in. Instead, he steps onto the porch and closes the door behind him. He gives Steve an awkward smile instead of his usual warm, comforting one.

“Is he home?” Steve asks.

“He’s sleeping,” Wayne allows. “He’s still recovering.”

“Do the kids know he’s home?”

“Son, he-“

“Why is he hiding? Everyone’s worried and just wants to make sure he’s okay. No one would keep him from resting!” Steve hates that his voice pitches higher. His hands are shaking. He’s never spoken to an adult he respects like this. “We just wanna know he’s safe.”

“He is.” Wayne sighs. “I told that boy no one was gonna stay away for long. He insisted everyone would forget him. I said no. He didn’t listen.”

Steve’s eyes dart over to the window he knows goes to Eddie’s bedroom. He’d been the one to help set it up when Wayne moved in.

“Can I please see him? I’ll be quick. I won’t even tell the kids yet. I just need to see,” Steve begs. “Please, Wayne.”

Wayne wordlessly opens the door and gestures for Steve to come inside.

He leads him to Eddie’s room, reminding him with a look to be quiet and not wake him up. Steve gives an understanding nod and walks into the room.

There’s sunlight sneaking through the blackout curtains, just enough to light up the bed that Eddie’s already wide awake in. Steve can’t help the smile blooming on his face.

Eddie looks scared, though.

His eyes are wide, and he’s pulled himself to the farthest corner of the queen sized bed. His hair’s a mess, proof that he probably was asleep just before Steve got here.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve waves. He doesn’t come any closer to the bed. “I just wanted to get eyes on you. Feeling alright?”

Wayne’s standing in the doorway behind Steve, probably trying to determine if he needs to step in or ride this out. If Eddie asks, Steve will leave. He doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

“What’re you doing here?” Eddie asks.

Steve watches the way his jaw moves around the words, how his mouth twists differently, like it’s taking more effort to talk. The scar going across his cheek, up into his temple, and down to his neck seems to be the cause of it. It’s still an angry red, stitches visible in some places where the bites must’ve been deeper.

He walks forward slowly. Eddie doesn’t stop him. Neither does Wayne.

The scar is big. It’ll always be big, though Steve has plenty of experience with scars and knows it’ll fade into a paler pink than it currently is. It’ll be a reminder, every day, of how he almost died. Eddie will have this memory every time he looks in the mirror, every time his own fingers brush against the ridged skin.

Steve cups the side of Eddie’s face that’s scarless.

Eddie gulps.

“Is this why you didn’t want anyone to visit?” He whispers.

Eddie doesn’t answer, but his eyes closing and head tilting down is answer enough.

“Eddie, look at me.”

Eddie opens his eyes.

“Do you really think a scar could scare any of us away? After how we found you, a scar is the least of our worries. You don’t have to hide from us.”

Steve’s not sure if Wayne’s still standing in the doorway, too focused on the way Eddie’s holding his gaze now. He’s lost weight and he’s still pale, but he’s alive. He’s still beautiful.

Maybe even more now.

“You’re alive. Everyone just wants you alive.”

“I’m gonna look even weirder now,” Eddie rasps out. Steve wonders if there’s damage to his throat, something his voice may never recover from entirely.

“I dunno. I think it’s pretty badass. Since when do you care about looking weird, anyway?” Steve smirks. “The Eddie Munson I know would find a new ridiculous story to tell every time he’s asked about something this cool.”

“I was leaning towards making people believe I got in a fight with a dragon,” Eddie shrugs one shoulder. His cheeks are red, warm underneath Steve’s touch.

“And won.”

Eddie leans his head forward, resting his forehead against Steve’s. “Of course I won. A knight in shining armor saved me.”

“You saved everyone else first. Don’t forget that part of the story,” Steve reminds him.

“A hero’s brave sacrifice…” Eddie mumbles. Steve chuckles. “Maybe true love’s kiss?”

“Isn’t that supposed to break a curse?” Steve whispers, suddenly nervous about all the times they flirted before. Flirting is harmless until it’s not.

“You’re right. In this case, it’s the curse of never kissing a nice guy.”

“And you think I can break that curse?”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

It’s a little awkward at first, mostly because parts of Eddie’s jaw are still numb from nerve damage and moving in certain ways is difficult. But once Steve adjusts, and they both giggle against each others’ lips, it’s easy. They fit.

Eddie tries to deepen the kiss, but he is still healing, and he has to pull away when his stitches tug painfully.

“Your battle scars won’t matter to any of us. They damn sure don’t make you less beautiful to me. Everyone misses you,” Steve rubs his arm, the one with no visible bandages. “Can I at least bring Dustin over later? Let him see that you’re actually alive and the hospital and government haven’t been lying?”

“Is that what everyone thinks?”

“You have to remember we’ve been through this a lot. Hopper was dead until he wasn’t. Anything can be faked.”

“That’s reassuring,” Eddie groans. “Yeah. Bring everyone by tomorrow. I’ll even shower.”

Steve kisses the top of his head. “Do you need help?”

“With showering? I just might, big boy.”

The way Eddie smiles is different now, but Steve loves it all the same.

[yassbishimvintage]

Just Us

MDNI: For the grown and the sexy.

Warnings: Talks of kids, sex positions.

A/n: Hey y'all. So here is that Aaron fic. Look its all over the place. And I highly recommend listening to the song before to set the mood.

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains of their St. John’s Wood home, casting a golden hue across the minimalist, yet luxuriously warm bedroom. The house was unusually quiet, their busy schedules clear for the first time, leaving Aaron and Cleo to savor the rare stillness.

Aaron stood at the vanity mirror, buttoning up a crisp black shirt, the fabric molding perfectly to his broad shoulders. His hazel eyes flicked toward Cleo’s reflection as she moved gracefully across the room, her silk robe tied loosely at the waist, revealing hints of the outfit underneath. She was effortlessly stunning, her skin glowing with that natural radiance he could never get enough of.

"You’re staring, Mr. Pierre," Cleo teased, applying a subtle gloss to her lips, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Aaron didn’t miss a beat, stepping closer to slide his arms around her waist from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. "And I’ll never get tired of it," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of her neck.

Cleo chuckled, her fingers briefly resting on his. "We’ll miss the movie if you keep this up."

He leaned back slightly, meeting her gaze in the mirror. "Is that really a problem?"

They eventually managed to finish getting ready, Cleo slipping into a chic, figure-hugging dress with a pair of understated yet elegant heels. Aaron, in his tailored slacks and shirt, exuded that effortless charm she always admired.

As they walked to the Bentley truck, Cleo grabbed his hand. "It’s nice, you know—just us today."

Aaron squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "My favorite kind of day."

During the drive, their playlist filled the silence—an eclectic mix of old-school R&B and modern hits, songs that carried memories of road trips, late-night talks, and spontaneous dances in the kitchen.

At the cinema, they opted for one of those luxury screening rooms with reclining seats, plush blankets, and an intimate vibe. Aaron ordered their usual—popcorn layered with both butter and caramel (Cleo’s guilty pleasure), and a couple of mocktails.

Mid-movie, Aaron reached over, his fingers finding Cleo’s without looking. She squeezed his hand gently, leaning her head against his shoulder. For them, it wasn’t just about the film. It was about these small, quiet moments—the ones where words weren’t needed because the love was already woven into the space between them.

After the movie, instead of heading straight home, they strolled around the city, talking about everything and nothing, laughter spilling freely, just like when they first met. It was a simple morning turned perfect, wrapped in the comfort of familiarity and the spark that never faded.

-

Cleo glanced up at Aaron, a slow, teasing smile curving her lips as they walked hand in hand along the quiet streets of London. The soft hum of the city provided a gentle backdrop, but his question hung in the air, weighted with both playfulness and sincerity.

She arched a brow, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, so that’s your agenda for today? A movie and a baby-making proposal?"

Aaron chuckled, pulling her closer until his arm wrapped securely around her waist. "I mean, it sounds like a solid plan to me. Quality entertainment, great company, and potentially expanding the Pierre legacy."

Cleo laughed, the sound warm and rich. She stopped walking, turning to face him fully, her hands resting on his chest. 

Cleo pretended to consider, tapping her finger against her chin dramatically. "Hmm, sleepless nights, diaper blowouts, teething… sounds dreamy."

He laughed, the deep, warm sound vibrating against her palms. Then, with a more tender expression, he whispered, "But also baby giggles, first steps, and watching them grow up with a family who’ll spoil them rotten."

Cleo’s heart softened, even as she rolled her eyes playfully. "You’re dangerously persuasive, Mr. Pierre."

Aaron grinned, leaning in to kiss her softly. "I’m just saying… we’d make a masterpiece."

She laughed against his lips, then pulled back slightly, her gaze locking with his. "Well, you know me—I love a good challenge."

He smirked. "So that’s a yes?"

Cleo just shook her head, her smile giving nothing away as she started walking again, tugging his hand. "Let’s get home, and we’ll see who wins this round."

Aaron followed, that satisfied grin still on his face because he knew exactly where this was headed.

Aaron chuckled, his grip on her hand tightening slightly as they continued walking. "Well, can you blame me?" he replied, his voice low and smooth. "Your body’s basically my favorite subject. I study it like it’s the only thing that matters."

Cleo laughed, shaking her head, a soft blush creeping onto her cheeks despite the years they’d been together. "You say that like it’s supposed to be flattering."

He stopped walking, gently pulling her to face him again. His hazel eyes softened, the playful edge giving way to something more sincere. "It is. I know every curve, every change, every little sign. It’s like your body speaks to me, and I’d be a fool not to listen."

Cleo’s heart skipped, her teasing demeanor faltering under the warmth of his words. She reached up, brushing her fingers along his jaw. "You really don’t play fair."

Aaron leaned down, his lips brushing against hers, soft and lingering. "Never claimed to."

They stood there for a beat, wrapped up in the quiet, unspoken connection that always seemed to pull them back to each other. Then Cleo pulled away slightly, her signature smirk returning.

"Alright, Mr. Pierre. Let’s see if all that studying pays off."

Aaron grinned, sliding his arm around her waist as they headed home. "Oh, trust me, Professor—I’m about to ace this test."

Aaron smirked, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischievous glint as he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

"You really wanna know?" he teased, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of her hip. "It’s not just about the position, babe. It’s about having you right where I want you."

Cleo arched an eyebrow, amused but intrigued. "Oh, I’m listening."

He leaned back slightly, his grin widening. "Alright then. It’s when you’re on top," he confessed smoothly, his hand sliding up her back. "Because I get to watch you. Every move, every expression—you in control, but still mine. And when I pull you down just enough to kiss you? That’s my favorite."

Cleo’s laugh was soft, her eyes darkening with both affection and heat. "You really don’t know how to keep things PG for more than five seconds, do you?"

Aaron shrugged, unapologetic. "Not when it comes to you."

Aaron chuckled, his lips brushing over the back of her hand before resting it on his thigh as he merged onto the highway.

"Back shots are a close second," he admitted, casting her a quick sideways glance, his grin never fading. "But see, with that, it’s all about me—control, power." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "But when you’re on top? That’s us. It’s you owning it, and me losing my damn mind watching you."

Cleo smirked, tilting her head slightly as she studied him. "So, basically, you like being obsessed."

Aaron laughed, his deep, rich tone filling the car. "Babe, I’ve been obsessed since day one. That’s nothing new."

She rolled her eyes playfully, leaning back in her seat, her smile softening as she looked out the window. "You’re lucky you’re cute."

He shot her another quick glance, his grin turning into that smug, signature smirk. "Nah, I’m lucky you’re mine."

Cleo’s gaze lingered on him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, freshly defined by his new cut. The subtle glint of his chain peeked out from beneath his shirt, catching the light with every slight movement. His glasses sat perfectly on his face, adding an intellectual edge to his already magnetic presence. The way his hand rested on her thigh—firm, warm, and claiming without needing to say a word—sent a comforting shiver through her.

His focus on the road was unwavering, but his thumb absentmindedly traced slow, deliberate circles against her skin. There was nothing performative about it—just natural, effortless intimacy, like his presence was the anchor to her heartbeat.

She sighed softly, the tension she didn’t even realize she carried melting away. “You don’t even try, do you?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, more to herself than him.

Aaron’s lips quirked slightly, his eyes still trained on the road. “Try what?” he asked, his thumb pausing for just a second before continuing its gentle motion.

She shook her head with a faint smile, looking out the window, her heart swelling. “You just… exist. And it’s enough.”

At that, Aaron glanced over briefly, his smile softer now, filled with unspoken words. He gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Same way I feel about you, baby.”

And just like that, the car didn’t feel like a space—they were wrapped in a bubble, just the two of them, the world passing by unnoticed.

Aaron stepped out of the car with effortless grace, his chain catching the last hint of daylight as it swayed slightly with his movements. He adjusted his glasses with one hand while the other casually slid into his pocket as he rounded the sleek Bentley. His steps were unhurried, purposeful, like every motion was stitched with quiet confidence.

Reaching Cleo’s door, he opened it with a smooth pull, his gaze dropping to meet hers. There was a softness there—an unspoken tenderness mixed with that ever-present masculine edge she loved. His hand extended, palm up, the veins in his forearm subtly defined as he waited for her to take it.

Cleo slipped her hand into his, and the warmth of his touch sent a familiar spark through her. He helped her out with ease, their bodies naturally falling into sync as she stood. His hand didn’t drop away immediately; instead, his fingers lingered, sliding from her palm to her wrist, then up to gently brush the inside of her forearm.

“You good, baby?” he asked, his voice low, coated with that distinct rasp that always made her chest tighten in the best way.

She nodded, her smile soft yet full of heat. “I’m always good with you.”

Aaron leaned in, his lips grazing the curve of her jaw, then trailing softly to the shell of her ear. “Good,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “Because I plan on keeping it that way.”

His hand found the small of her back as they walked toward the house, fingers spreading wide, possessive but protective. It was subtle, but to Cleo, it was everything—the quiet declaration that she was his, even without words.

-

Aaron disappeared into their expansive walk-in closet, the faint sound of hangers sliding along the sleek, custom-built rods filling the quiet space. The soft lighting cast a warm glow over the neatly organized rows of designer suits, tailored shirts, and an impressive collection of sneakers meticulously arranged on shelves. His chain caught the light once more as he pulled his shirt over his head, the muscles in his back flexing with the motion.

Cleo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of his physique. His broad shoulders tapered down to a slim waist, the definition in his back a testament to his disciplined routine. He didn’t know she was watching—or maybe he did. With Aaron, it was always hard to tell because his awareness of her presence was almost instinctive.

He exchanged his tailored slacks for a pair of soft, grey sweatpants, the waistband riding low on his hips, and tossed on a black fitted T-shirt that hugged him just right. As he adjusted the simple yet perfectly styled chain around his neck, he caught her reflection in the mirror—a soft smile playing on her lips, her gaze unapologetically lingering.

“You just gonna stand there and stare?” he asked with a smirk, his deep voice carrying that casual tease she’d fallen for years ago.

Cleo stepped into the closet, closing the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps. “Can you blame me?” she replied, her fingers lightly grazing the exposed skin at his waist before sliding up to rest against his chest. “You make it hard not to.”

Aaron tilted his head slightly, his grin deepening as he leaned down, his lips barely brushing hers. “Then don’t stop,” he whispered, before claiming her mouth with a kiss that was both soft and possessive, his hands finding her hips, pulling her closer.

For a moment, the world outside their closet ceased to exist—just the two of them wrapped up in the gravity that always pulled them back to each other, no matter how much time had passed.

Cleo lay sprawled across their bed, the soft linen sheets tangled beneath her, her chest rising and falling in slow, satisfied breaths. The subtle sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, catching the muted afternoon light that filtered through the sheer curtains. Her hair fanned out across the pillows, wild and untamed, much like the energy that had filled the room just moments before.

Aaron stood at the foot of the bed, his chest heaving slightly, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He raked a hand through his hair, the chain around his neck resting against his collarbone, glinting faintly. His gaze never left her—admiring, possessive, tender.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice husky, filled with both pride and adoration. He climbed back onto the bed, settling beside her, his hand tracing lazy, feather-light patterns along the curve of her hip.

Cleo’s lips curled into a soft smile, her eyes half-lidded with that post-bliss haze. “You know,” she said breathlessly, “I was just trying to get dressed.”

Aaron chuckled lowly, leaning in to press a kiss to her shoulder, his beard grazing her skin, sending a fresh wave of warmth through her. “You looked too good to ignore,” he whispered against her skin, his fingers still drawing slow circles.

She hummed in response, her hand finding its way to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm. For a few blissful moments, neither of them spoke, just basking in the quiet intimacy that filled the room.

Then Aaron broke the silence with a soft laugh. “So… that dinner date with Kel and Simone?”

Cleo turned her head slightly, giving him a playful side-eye, her smile widening. “Oh, we definitely missed that dinner. But I think they will forgive us. Eventually.”

Aaron grinned, leaning down to kiss her again, slow and unhurried. “We’ll catch the next one,” he whispered, his hand slipping to intertwine with hers, their fingers fitting together like they always had—effortlessly.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout @melaninpov @todorokishoe24 @chaoticcoffeequeen @gopaperless @jenlovey @notapradagurl7

[revelboo]

Revel im coming to your door step begging and pleading for anything Bee related, one shot, hcs, smut fluff WHATEVER..just give me whatever you want and I'll DEVOUR IT. I'm on my period and hella emotional and i burn through all your fics so fast i just- UGH 😭

on another note i hope you're having a day far FAR better than me and just good over all, love you! n thank you!! 🫶🏻

Sure! Fluff and 18+ Mass displaced mech scenario 🌶️

Earthspark Bumblebee x Reader Scenarios

Comfort

• “You’re being quiet today.” There’s no judgement in his soft voice and you appreciate that so much. Just like he hadn’t complained when you’d caught his hand and pulled it to you, encouraging him to drape it across your middle. Enjoying the heat of his touch. Laying back against him under an apple tree and letting the sun warm you, you tip your head back against his heated chassis. “Everything okay?” Like he’s afraid he’s done something wrong and and you smile up at him.

• “Just a little off today,” you say, a hand resting on top of his. He’s been around you long enough to understand that for a week or so a month, you might be quieter than normal or even snap at him and feel immediately bad about it. And that you’re too embarrassed to talk about whatever it is. So he’d asked Dot and she’d told him. In excruciating detail what the problem most likely was. Giving him a lesson on human reproduction that he hadn’t really been expecting. Or particularly wanted.

• Tracing little circles on the back of his hand, you ask him for a story and he tells you about before the war. About a city that’s gone now, destroyed in the fighting, but that he remembers with such longing in his voice that your own chest aches. Relaxing against him, you let his touch and voice soothe away the discomfort and distract you.

Smut

• Warm palm sliding up your spine as you lay on your belly, legs dangling over the edge of the container he’d bent you over, your body’s humming where he’s been teasing you for what feels like forever. Can feel his erect spike leaving a damp trail against your inner thigh as he bends over you, mouth peppering soft kisses against the back of your neck. And he shifts against you, the head of his spike sliding so close to where you need him as he presses a soft bite against your neck, sucking and nipping the spot until you know he’s trying to leave a mark. Something he’d become obsessed with after finding out how easily he can mark you. “Bee, please,” you whimper, down to begging as his spike slides against you. Right there when you’re aching for him.

• Humming softly as his mouth slides to a new, lower spot, he reaches between your bodies to grip his spike and slide himself against your slick heat just to make you whimper again. Hurting to be inside you, but wanting to take his time with you. “You’re so wet for me aren’t you?” He growls, finding you and slowly driving deep. Smiling when you wiggle as much as you can in the position you’re in, trying to get him to move while he just wants to savor this. The feel of you wrapped so tight around his spike. “Tell me what you need.”

• “Fast,” you manage, resting your cheek on an arm and feeling his servos grip your hips. The first deep thrust a sharp snap of his hips before he’s growling against your neck, mouth and denta teasing your shoulder as moves inside you. Keeping you pinned where he wants you. Optics shuttering as he listens to the sounds you make. Those little gasps and moans, the wet sounds of his spike pumping inside you. Feeling you begin to squirm, trying to push back to meet his thrusts and he pins you better just to make you whine a protest. “Bee, please.” Squirming a hand under you to play with you until your hips are bucking, until you cry out and tighten on him. Fisting his spike so tightly and he keeps moving, hips snapping until he shakily catches himself on his forearms to keep from crushing you. Hips still rocking urgently as he fills you, pressing deep and groaning against your skin and fighting the urge to spark you. Every time it’s a little harder to resist and knows he’s going to have to have the discussion with you eventually. Because he wants it so bad. Wants to claim you so thoroughly you’ll never need anything but this, him.

[thelargefrye]

PLUSHIE TIME ... mature one - shot (18+)

pairing : boyfriend!san x girlfriend!f!reader

genre : smut (this is just pwp), established relationship

word count : 1.7k

warnings : plushie fucking, humping, masturbation (f), clit play (i guess?), unprotected sex, big dick!san, degrading / humiliation kink, some cum play, name calling (slut, good girl)

suffer with me tag : @sanjoongie

note : a little something for february filth – if you like don't forget to reblog and leave a comment, thanks!

alone and bored, you find yourself missing your boyfriend with nothing but the plushie he gave you to keep you company.

the apartment felt quiet. you lay bored on your bed as you played on your phone, switching between games and tiktok. you rolled around, switching between laying on your back and stomach as you moved around restlessly. you wanted san to come home – having gone out with his friends to eat. he had invited you to go with him, but you honestly weren’t in the mood to socialize. 

maybe you should have gone to save yourself from this boredom. 

however, the feeling of boredom wasn’t the only thing you were feeling. you allowed your mind to wander to your lovely boyfriend… and his lovely body, hands, and most importantly his lovely dick. 

damn, you were horny now. with a huff you tossed your phone to the side, eyes drifting to the cute plushie san had gifted you, sitting on the bed next to you. its form slouched over from all your moving around. your fingers reached over to touch the soft fur of the plushie, it being a comforting reminder of your soft boyfriend. you couldn’t help but bite your lip as an idea formed in your head. 

“fuck it,” you mumble to yourself as you grab the slightly larger than usual plushie as you sat up.

quickly ridding yourself of your sleep shorts and underwear, you positioned the plushie beneath yourself. straddling it with slow, deliberate movements as you positioned it comfortably between your legs. the plushie’s soft body pressing against your bare skin, teasing you with its gentle touch – reminding you of how san often teases you. 

you couldn’t help but imagine san lying beneath you, his eyes filled with a dark desire, urging you on. as you began to move, you could almost feel the heat of his body, hardness of his cock beneath you. slipping between your wet folds. 

as you rolled your hips, you felt shivers of pleasure rush through you. the plushie’s fur tickled your clit, coaxing soft gasps from your lips. you imagined san’s hands gripping your hips and guiding you, setting your pace as his voice both praised and degraded you. a rush of heat sent through you, sweat forming and you immediately took your shirt off. tossing it somewhere in the floor for you to find later. 

your fingers danced over your skin, tracing from your thighs and up your stomach before you groped your own breast. squeezing them and pinching your nipples. “mmh, sannie,” you called out, breathlessly as you picture it was him and his hands skillfully touching you. 

your rocked your hips more as your pictured san’s thick cock filling you completely, stretching you out, and hitting that perfect spot that always made you cry out in pleasure. your pace quickened, friction building up a wanting tension within you. one of your hands traveled between your legs, parting your slick folds even more to find your throbbing clit. you circled it, your moans growing louder as you grew closer and closer to your release. 

you removed your fingers, looking at how your slick covered them before you’re shoving them in your mouth. licking them and tasting yourself, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head as you pictured san’s cock was in your mouth instead. your plushie’s fur rubbing nicely against your aching clit. 

the only thing able to leave your mouth was san’s name. you could imagine his mocking tone if he was to catch you, but you honestly didn’t care at this moment if he did. you could picture san beneath you, head thrown back in pleasure as he would hold back his climax. you could hear his voice groaning as you continued to rock your hips against your plushie. 

your cries filled the room as your pace quickened, the plushie slick with your arousal as you chased your climax. the plushie’s fur creating a good friction as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten. until it eventually snapped, sending you over the edge with a loud cry of san’s name. 

your orgasm crashed over you as you collapsed onto the plushie. its head resting between your breast, smothering it like how you would with san. you let out deep breathes, heart pounding in your ears as you came down from your high. 

you hugged the plushie close to you, the image of san still heavy underneath your lids as you looked at the object you just used to get off. still feeling absorbed in your fantasy, you kissed the plushie. your lips moving rather passionately against the plushie’s stitched mouth. your tongue flicking out as if it was san you were kissing instead. 

your hips moved with a wild urgency, grinding against the plushie’s softness, each movement sending waves of pleasure over your body once more. its fur brushed against your aching clit, teasing it with every roll of your hips. your moans filled the room as you lost yourself in your need.  

you felt your world shrink to the size of your plushie beneath you. totally enraptured by the pleasure that you never heard the door opening behind you. only the startling feeling of thick hands grabbing your ankles is what brought you back down to reality. with a hitch breath you turned to meet san’s eyes. his full of lust and desire meeting your needy ones is what causes him to smirk down at you. 

“did i scare you?” he taunts with a smirk, head tilting to the side. 

your eyes darted down to look at his crotch, noticing the prominent bulge and signalling that he has been watching you for some time now. he suddenly began to move, his hands firm as he dragged the poor plushie away from you, this left your exposed and trembling with anticipation as you watched him. 

san grinned down at you as he repositions the plushie, its crotch now resting near your face while its nose nuzzled against your sensitive clit. the unexpected sensation sent a jolt through you and san let out a laugh at your reaction. san removes his clothes, his angry, red cock hitting his stomach. his tip leaking as he pumps himself to the sight of you slowly grinding against the plushie’s nose. 

you barely had time to process anything else as san comes over you, his body warm and hard, a solid weight that pinned you between him and the plushie. keeping you in place. he spread your legs wide, revealing your glistening arousal, pussy dripping with need. 

“look at you,” he taunts, voice low as a seductive growl leaves his chest. “so fucking desperate you had to hump your little toy. did you really think that could satisfy you like i can?”

“n-no!” you blurt out, his words degrading and making you flush with a mixture of both embarrassment and excitement. you felt san’s thick cock press against your entrance, teasing you with his tip before he’s thrusting into you. he fills you completely, his girth stretching you in an almost overwhelming way. your fantasies can never compare to the real deal. no matter how many times he’s fucked you. 

“is this what you wanted, baby? my fat cock stretching you and filling you up,” he says against your ear, his tongue licking along the shell of it. 

san sets a brutal pace, each thrust driving deeper into you, claiming you completely. his hips slamming against yours in a way that left you breathless. your body arching to meet each thrust, your hands gripping the plushie almost painfully. the plushie’s hard nose against your clit with every movement, adding a layer of blissful pleasure that made you moan loudly. san’s hand snaked up to grip your hair firmly, allowing him to guide your head back to the plushie’s crotch that was covered with your juices. 

a wicked smirk painted his lips, “kiss it,” he commanded, voice full of mockery and authority that made you clench around him. “taste yourself, little slut. show your toy how grateful you are for all the pleasure it gave you.” 

you obeyed, lips pressing against the pushing down of his hand, moans muffled as he kept your head in place. your tastes yourself as your tongue licks against the fur. the act was a pure mixture of humiliation and ecstasy as each kiss and lick was punctuated by the relentless pounding of san’s cock. he continued to throw words of degradation at you, reminding you of your earlier actions. how you succumbed to your need in such a desperate, debauched way. 

“such a good girl,” he praises, voice dripping with amusement. “take it all, baby. let me see you come undone while you thank your little friend.” 

the room fills with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the slap of skin against skin, your muffled moans and cries as you feel yourself surrender completely to your pleasure and san. you feel your climax build up, tension coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust until finally, it snapped. 

it sent you spiraling into an earth-shattering orgasm. san’s own release followed quickly after. his hips stuttering as he came inside you, flooding your pussy with his cum. he held himself deep, savoring the moment of your walls fluttering around him before he slowly pulls out. he watches with satisfaction as his seed begins to drip out of you, running down the poor plushie’s face. both ends of it now coated in yours and his’s cum. 

you rolled over on your back, plushie still held closely as you flipped it back around. your eyes meeting san’s as your tongue lolls out and licks at the plushie’s face, cleaning it of san’s cum. the sight itself is nothing short of erotic according to san and he has to stop himself from getting hard again. his chest heaves as his hand comes to grip the head of the plushie tightly and rips it away from you. 

he instead presses his own lips against yours in a heated kiss. tongues tangling together, noses pressing against each other as the kiss is nothing short of sloppy and messy. when san pulls away, a string of salvia connects you both as you look at each other once more. san looked down at the plushie once more, admiring the evidence of your pleasure. 

he moved to lay against you, head buried between your breast and your hand comes to run through his dark locks. the memory of what happened tonight makes your heart race as you know what you will be thinking about the next time you are left alone.

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

Lingerie shopping

The boutique was quiet, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and soft fabrics. You ran your fingers along the delicate lace of a black set, feeling the intricate embroidery against your skin.

Behind you, Simon stood with his arms crossed, his dark eyes scanning the store with disinterest—until he caught sight of what you were holding.

“That for me, love?” His voice was low, teasing.

You smirked, turning to face him. “Maybe. Want to help me pick something out?”

His eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of heat passing through them as he stepped closer. “Oh, I’ll help, alright.”

You picked out a few more sets—deep red, soft ivory, and a dangerously sheer navy blue—before leading him to the fitting rooms. He sat in one of the plush chairs just outside, his legs spread wide, elbows resting on his thighs as he watched you disappear behind the curtain.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” he murmured.

You grinned, slipping into the first set—the black lace. It hugged your body in all the right places, the sheer panels leaving little to the imagination. Stepping out from behind the curtain, you struck a playful pose.

Simon’s jaw tightened. His hands flexed over his knees, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Turn around,” he ordered, his voice thick with restrained hunger.

You did, slowly, dragging it out just to tease him.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Come here.”

You took a step closer, but before you could react, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you between his legs. His palms found your hips, his thumbs brushing the delicate lace as he looked up at you with hooded eyes.

“You expect me to just sit here and watch you prance around like this?” he growled, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers trailed along your exposed thighs, sending a shiver through you.

“That was the idea,” you teased, biting your lip.

Simon chuckled darkly, his grip tightening. “Yeah? Let’s see how much teasing you can take.”

His hands slid up your sides, fingers grazing the lace covering your ribs before slipping around to your lower back. He pulled you closer, his breath hot against your stomach as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss just above your navel.

“Simon,” you breathed, your hands finding his shoulders for balance.

“Shh,” he murmured, lips trailing higher, stopping just before the edge of the fabric covering your chest. His fingers skimmed over the thin straps, his thumbs brushing the curve of your breasts.

The curtain shifted slightly, the faint sound of a saleswoman moving nearby making your heart race. “Simon,” you whispered urgently. “Someone might—”

He smirked against your skin. “Then you better keep quiet, love.”

His hands roamed lower, gripping the swell of your ass as he pressed his mouth against your stomach once more, his teeth grazing your skin. The heat pooling between your thighs was unbearable, the thrill of being caught only adding to the intensity.

Before you could melt completely, he suddenly pulled back, his hands lingering as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

“Try the next one,” he rasped. “And hurry the fuck up before I lose my patience.”

You swallowed hard, retreating behind the curtain with shaky legs, already knowing this little shopping trip wouldn’t end in the fitting room.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the next set—the deep red one, all lace and barely-there straps. Your skin still burned from Simon’s touch, your pulse racing from the way he had pulled you so close, his lips ghosting over your skin, his voice thick with desire.

You slipped into the new set, the fabric hugging your curves perfectly, the delicate details accentuating everything he already worshipped about your body. Taking a deep breath, you pulled the curtain open again.

Simon’s eyes snapped up instantly. And this time, he didn’t even try to play it cool.

“Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes dark with hunger. His hands flexed over his thighs, his entire body radiating tension as he took you in.

“Like it?” you asked, stepping toward him, loving the way his jaw clenched.

Simon leaned back slightly, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. “Come closer.”

You did.

He reached out, his fingers trailing along your hip, toying with the thin strap resting against your skin. “This one,” he murmured, voice thick. “This one is trouble.”

You smirked. “Then maybe I should change again.”

His grip tightened. “Not a chance.”

Before you could react, he was on his feet, towering over you, his body a wall of heat and muscle. His hands slid to your lower back, pulling you against him, and you gasped at the hard press of him through his jeans.

“Simon,” you whispered, heart pounding.

His lips brushed your ear. “D’you feel what you do to me, love?”

You did. And you wanted more.

But just as you tilted your head up for a kiss, the distant sound of footsteps reminded you exactly where you were.

Simon groaned, dropping his forehead against yours. “Bloody torture.”

You giggled, reaching up to run your fingers through his short-cropped hair. “Then maybe we should get out of here.”

His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing possessively before he stepped back, eyes still burning. “Go change. Now.”

You turned, heading back into the fitting room, but just as you reached for the curtain, Simon leaned in, his breath hot against your neck.

“Don’t bother putting your clothes back on,” he rasped. “You’re wearing that home.”

Your breath caught, a shiver rolling through you. “Simon—”

His fingers brushed the side of your breast, his voice dangerously low. “And when we get there, love? You won’t be wearing a damn thing at all.”

Your knees nearly gave out.

You didn’t just rush to change—you practically ran.

[tfwbluu]

・ SESSION #4 ・

pairing sunoo & f!reader 1901 words warnings mean!dom!noo & sub!reader drinking games reader’s tipsy raw sex (stay safe!) breeding kink fingering degradation/praise pet names overstimulation mentions of morning after pill

Sunoo was one of Viesczy’s most alluring hosts, and he knew it. He wielded his charm like a sly fox, luring his prey in with innocent smiles and honeyed words, only to devour them whole when they least expected it.

Perhaps that’s what drew him to you—the way he could play the perfect gentleman, only to turn into something far more sinful behind closed doors. He had his preferences, his turn-ons, and one of them was being in control.

The drinking game had left you warm and flushed, a pleasant buzz humming in your ears. Sunoo, on the other hand, remained perfectly composed, watching you with amusement as your thighs pressed together, your soaked panties evidence of just how much the alcohol had loosened your inhibitions.

“Are you already tipsy?” he chuckled, tilting your chin up, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“Mhm… no…” you mumbled, though the way you leaned into his touch betrayed you.

Sunoo only smiled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured, effortlessly pulling you into his lap, slotting his thigh between your legs.

You sighed into his warmth, burying your face in his neck, breathing in the faint notes of vanilla and musk that clung to his skin. Your arms wrapped around him instinctively, lips pressing soft, needy kisses along his jaw.

“Needy, aren’t you?” he teased, leaning back slightly to give you more access, his hands resting firmly on your hips.

“Sunoo…” you whined, the sound breathy, desperate. Your body moved on its own, rolling your hips against the firm muscle of his thigh, the friction sending sparks through you.

“It’s okay, doll,” he cooed, his fingers tightening ever so slightly. “I’ve got you.”

His hands settled on your waist, guiding your movements as you rutted helplessly against his thigh. The friction sent waves of heat through your body, making you whimper against his neck.

“Awe, aren’t you a desperate little thing,” he cooed, his tone dripping with amusement as he felt the dampness seeping through your panties. “So worked up already… just from a little alcohol and teasing?”

You whimpered in response, gripping his shoulders as your movements grew more desperate. Sunoo only chuckled, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll take care of you.”

His lips crashed against yours, the kiss deep and insistent, his fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, a silent demand that you eagerly obeyed, parting for him as he swallowed every needy sound you made.

Your hands roamed over his body, fingers lazily mapping out the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. A quiet hum of approval rumbled from his throat as his hands drifted lower, teasing the hem of your top.

He pulled away just long enough to strip it from you, his movements fluid and practiced. In one swift motion, he unhooked your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders, leaving you bare beneath his heated gaze.

His fingers traced slow, teasing circles over your waist before gliding up to cup your breasts, his touch both gentle and possessive. His lips ghosted over your skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, marking you in deep shades of cherry and plum.

“So pretty,” he mumbled, admiring the way your body trembled under his touch.

“Ngh… Sun, please… need you,” you whined, fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

He chuckled darkly against your skin. “Are you sure you can take me, doll?” he teased, nipping at your collarbone just to hear you gasp. “Once I start, I won’t stop until I’m satisfied.”

Your breath hitched. “I can take it—can take you, just—ah!” A sharp cry escaped your lips as he suddenly flipped you onto the plush bed, his body hovering over yours.

His eyes darkened as he pushed your skirt up, revealing the damp fabric clinging between your thighs. His thumb brushed over the soaked material, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Be a good girl for me, okay?” He slipped your panties off effortlessly, his touch deliberate and teasing. His fingers trailed over your slick folds, gathering the evidence of your arousal before pressing against your entrance.

“You’re already so wet, angel. It’s cute,” he teased, his voice dripping with that sweet yet sinful charm, his fingers tracing gentle circles against your drenched clit.

Before you could even process his words, he pushed two fingers inside, filling you in one swift motion. A gasp tore from your lips, but he didn’t give you time to adjust—his fingers moved quickly, curling just right, coaxing desperate moans from your throat as pleasure consumed you.

“F-fuck! Sunoo… hnghh, feels so good…!” you whined, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly, your body writhing beneath him, overwhelmed by the pleasure. Sunoo clicked his tongue, his grip tightening around your waist.

“Stay still,” he commanded, his voice firm. With ease, he pinned you down, his strength keeping you in place. “If you keep squirming, I might just have to punish you, sweetheart.”

“Then make me,” you teased, even surprising yourself with your sudden confidence. Sunoo’s eyes darkened, his lips curling into an innocent smile that contrasted the sinful promise in his gaze.

“Oh? Looks like I need to teach you a lesson for talking back, hmm?” he mused, slowly pulling his fingers from your dripping core, hitting it with a sharp slap, leaving you clenching around nothing.

Before you could protest, he shed his clothes with ease, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen. He wasted no time in yanking your skirt down, leaving you bare beneath him.

“No complaining, doll. You take what I give you,” he breathed out, positioning himself at your entrance.

Without warning, he pushed inside, stretching you open in one swift motion. A sharp gasp left your lips, but he didn’t give you a moment to adjust—his hips were already moving, setting a relentless pace that had you seeing stars.

“F-fuck~! Sunoo!” you cried out, your back arching off the bed, pleasure crashing over you in waves as he fucked you into the mattress.

“Oh, you like that?” he mocked, lifting your ankles onto his shoulders, pushing even deeper inside you. “You’re more flexible than I thought,” he mused, pounding into you harder, pulling desperate sobs and moans from your lips.

“P-please… please, fu—hck, need mo—hre…!” you mewled, your body trembling beneath him, your walls fluttering around his cock as he maintained his steady, punishing rhythm, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Mhm? What was that, sweetheart?” he taunted, slowing his movements to a deep, agonizing pace, making you feel every inch of him dragging along your sensitive walls. “Can’t hear you over all that babbling,” he teased, watching in amusement as you squirmed beneath him, completely at his mercy.

His hand tangled in your hair, holding you close as your body trembled beneath him. His other hand gripped yours tightly, anchoring you to him. “P-please…” you whined, your hips shifting in frustration as he kept his agonizingly slow rhythm.

“Please what, princess? Use your words properly,” he mocked, an innocent-looking smile on his face that sharply contrasted with the way his cock stretched you open, moving at a torturously slow pace.

“Go f-faster… please—ah… fuck!” you moaned, relief flooding your voice as he finally set a faster pace, the sudden intensity stealing your breath.

“There you go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he taunted, now pounding into you with a pace that left you gasping, the room filled with the sounds of your moans and the rhythmic slap of your bodies meeting.

The tension in your core coiled tighter, your body arching as the overwhelming sensation built to its peak. Lips ghosting over your ear, he nipped teasingly before soothing it with a teasing lick, trailing down to capture your lips in a deep, consuming kiss—swallowing your moans as pleasure overtook you. Then, with a cry muffled against his lips, the knot snapped. A wave of ecstasy crashed over you, your release spilling over him as he groaned, his grip tightening. His own climax followed, hot and deep inside you, filling you to the brim as he muttered your name against your lips.

“That’s it…” he breathed, thrusting through his orgasm, fucking his cum deeper into you. But he didn’t stop. His hips kept moving, his cock still hard inside you.

“W-wait, no—sensitive..! S-stop..!” you whined, your nails digging into the sheets as he pushed your overstimulated body further, determined to wring every last bit of pleasure from you.

“You can take it,” he muttered, his fingers finding your nipples, pinching and rolling them as his lips trailed more bruising kisses along your skin.

You were an incoherent mess beneath him, body trembling, overstimulated yet craving more. He was insatiable—burying himself deep inside you over and over again, filling you up for the second time, then another just minutes later. His cum mixed with yours, leaking from your swollen cunt and pooling onto the sheets below. The obscene squelching of your joined bodies echoed through the dimly lit room, each thrust sending another wave of pleasure coursing through you.

“Fuck, you’re so full, aren’t you, princess?” he groaned, feeling the way your walls clenched around him, refusing to let go. “Your pretty cunt ‘ts sucking me in so tight.” His thumb flicked over your swollen clit, making you jerk beneath him.

“Haa… Sun—ooh! Fuck! Please, s’too much…!” you whined, but the way your body responded to him betrayed your words.

“Oh shush, we both know you want this,” Sunoo teased, slowing his movements before suddenly pulling out, leaving you empty and aching. A needy whimper escaped your lips at the loss, making him chuckle in amusement.

He watched in fascination as his cum dripped from your swollen core, your body still trembling. Your breath was uneven as you tried to process everything, only for Sunoo to grip your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You didn’t think that was the end of it, did you?” he asked, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. Before you could answer, he plunged back inside with a single thrust, groaning at the way you clenched around him.

“S-Sunoo!” you yelped, body hypersensitive yet craving more.

His lips brushed against your ear, voice dark and teasing. “Your tight little cunt is practically begging for me—don’t lie. A cumslut like you can’t wait to be filled up again, am I right?” His hand drifted down, pressing against the bulge in your stomach, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

“So be a good girl and take it.” His voice was a low murmur against your skin, each word dripping with intent. He thrust deeper, hitting a spot that sent a sharp wave of pleasure through your body, making your breath hitch.

His pace was brutal, his fingers laced with yours as his mouth claimed you once more, tongue exploring every inch. You could only shake and whimper helplessly, eyes rolling back of your head, lost in the pleasure as he used you, filling you over and over again—until the only thing you could feel, think, and breathe was him.

By the time the night faded into dawn, you were spent, utterly consumed by him. And as reality set in, one thing was certain—you’d be making a stop for those morning-after pills.

author’s note still trying to get used to writing sunoo and i’m quite happy w how this came out >< lmk if i need to add anything to warnings i edited this while half asleep ngl LOL

taglist @kikidoul @rikiives @contyynishimura @ziiao @lilmarsh-t @bxcndd @laylasbunbunny @d-dilemma

[adilqalbi]

What's True Love If Not Necromancy?

pairing: ramdevi

tagging: @rc-catalog

word count: 799

tw: light mentions of death

rating: g

summary: a different take on devi waking up for the first time in hertfordshire, finding ram and their conversation.

additional note: A SUPER LATE birthday present for the one and only JB/ @webanglikethat!! Jbaby you're one of the greatest people I have had the honour of knowing. i did my best here but forgive any mistakes. i hope you have an amazing year and whatever troubles you, i hope it goes away asap. i'll always love you (platonically)

Ram hadn't realised just how much he missed Devi until the night she showed up to his room, complaining of a headache. 

She had been unconscious for weeks, but the British physicians had seemingly done their best to help her recover from her injury. 

Now, here she was, sitting on Ram's bed, breathing deeply and massaging her temples. 

Ram sat on the floor at her feet, watching her, his palms resting on her knees, waiting patiently for her to break their silence. 

Finally: ‘’Where are we?’’ Her voice was a whisper, and Ram had to lean in to hear the question. 

He sighed. She didn’t know. Of course, she had been dead, roaming around in the afterlife probably, and now she was back but in a foreign place. 

‘’We are in Britain. Hertfordshire.’’

‘’Hertfordshire? How? This…doesn’t make sense.’’

‘’Shh, I know it doesn’t. I’ll explain everything, rakshasi.’’ Ram ran his hand through Devi’s messy hair, trying to calm her down. 

‘’Please, Ram. Just tell me. I was dead. Dead. What happened?’’

Ram bit his lip. There was no delaying this. She had to know. 

He sat down next to her on the bed, took her hand in his and began. 

‘’You did die. Dixit stabbed you. But, you killed him before your final breath. And, then you died.’’

Devi was silent. 

‘Ram continued: ‘’I figure you would be upset to know that the last time you breathed was in…Christian’s arms.’’ 

‘’By the gods. Dying in the arms of a foreigner.’’ 

‘’Yes, well, it’s okay though. We got you back very quickly.’’

Devi looked up at Ram. ‘’Yes, how did you manage that?’’

Ram rubbed his neck, nervous, ‘’There’s this ritual that can be done. It had never been successful before but it worked with you for some reason.’’

‘’A ritual?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘’It had never worked before?’’

‘’No.’’

‘’But, here I am.’’

‘’Indeed.’’

Devi rolled her eyes. ‘’Of course, you would know a ritual. But wasn’t it too big a risk?’’

Ram looked at the bedroom floor, dark oak. He was silent for a few minutes, lost in thought. 

It was risky to have done the ritual. He could have made everything worse. But, he knew one thing was true, which would never change. 

‘’I wanted to do everything in my power to get you back. I don’t think I could live without you.’’

Ram looked directly into Devi’s eyes, ‘’Five years, Devi. Five years of stolen glances, and flirty jokes, and searching for each other in the crowd and yet not being able to talk openly. I’d already suffered for five years, without you by my side.’’ Ram stopped here, his voice failing him. 

Devi completed his thoughts: ‘’And after five years, once we just began taking steps towards…happiness…that’s when I was taken away from the world of the living. And you…’’

‘’Couldn’t bear it. Not for one minute.’’ 

Devi curled her lips inwards, not sure what to say to Ram’s sudden confession. 

‘’I’m sorry, maybe this was too much altogether.’’ Ram quieted down, mentally berating himself for not keeping his mouth shut. He was always so good at it, so what happened now?

The next thing he knew was that Devi was holding his hand tighter. ‘’No, Ram. It’s…I appreciate you so much. I love you dearly. It’s just that…I don’t know. I just wasn’t expecting it.’’

Ram raised his eyebrow, askance. 

‘’You were the one who said that what we have can’t be anything more than a secret.’’ Devi smirked, her old self coming back slowly as her mind got used to being alive again. ‘’What changed?’’

Ram looked at her again, her sparkling eyes, her smile. He thought back to how she laughed. 

‘’I want to make you laugh, I think. I want to do that for the rest of my life.’’ 

Devi blinked. She had expected a sarcastic joke, but this was serious. 

She smiled softly again, rubbing her thumb against Ram’s palm. 

‘’Ram…truly…I’d love to laugh with you forever. But-’’

‘’Oh god, there’s a but.’’ 

Devi, ironically laughed, ‘’Listen to me, you rakshasa. But now was not a good time to confess. I came back to life  half an hour ago. I’m pretty sure my body isn’t used to being alive currently. I think I need to sleep, actually. So, if you would please continue your tale of true love later on, I’d love to be able to sleep.’’

‘’True love? What do you mean true lov - wait!’’

It was no use. Devi was already under the covers with her eyes closed.

Under the covers. Sleeping. 

On Ram’s bed. 

In Hertfordshire. 

Where the maids liked to gossip. 

He looked at the empty side of the bed. He thought about it for perhaps one minute. Then he cuddled in right next to his true love.

[scorpioriesling]

omg hey would you please do a bodhi or garrick smut i love your writing

The Sting of Jealousy

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Bodhi x reader

Kink(s): 18+, mdni, smut

Summary: This is shorter but that’s a-okay; it’s nearly porn without plot, ok? I’ve been writing so much smut lately to prepare for Kinktober — but, this one needed to be published asap. (; Who doesn’t love jealous Bodhi?

SR’s Note: I’ve never written for Garrick sooo I’ll absolutely be taking you up on Bodhi smut because well I love him I’m sorry (i’m not) + tysm for the compliment!! omg

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

“Bodhi…”

His name slips from your lips in a quiet whisper, the sentence dying on your tongue as he kisses up your neck. The light from the dorm room lamp winks out as your eyes flutter closed, the pure ecstasy flowing through your every vein as your boyfriend’s hands continue to wander.

“What’s that, baby?” He coos, feeling rather satisfied with the way he’s pleasuring you. You squint, your gaze taking over every rippling muscle in his back as his lips kiss across your chest more forcefully. You squirm beneath him, his fingers slowly tracing down your exposed stomach and nearing the apex of your thighs.

“I… oh,” You suck in a breath as his middle finger finds your clit, rubbing lightly over the bundle of nerves. He chuckles, low and deep before placing a kiss just beneath your ear.

“Pretty girl,” he mumbles, his fingers slowly moving towards your awaiting core. He slips his middle and ring finger inside, pumping them slowly as you continue to huff beneath him.

“Bodhi… please,” you beg, but he continues to kiss your neck. Air escapes your lungs when you feel his teeth against your neck, biting and sucking softly as he continues to work his fingers into you.

“P-please… oh Gods,” you pant, and he pulls back with a satisfied smirk.

“There,” he says, his fingers slowly slipping out of you. “Now there’s no question who you belong to.”

Another heat wave washes over you — Bodhi was hot, but jealous Bodhi?

Let’s just say you didn’t exactly stop Ridoc’s playful flirting today at training.

“I don’t think it was ever a question-“ you’re cut off as your boyfriend stands, yanking you to the edge of the bed in one swift motion. You squeak as his hand connects with the underside of your ass, his fingers still wet with your arousal.

“You’re right. It wasn’t.” He tosses your legs over his shoulders, baring your aching core to him. His cock is in his hand in seconds, your slick smearing over it a few times before he aligns himself with you.

And slams inside.

“BODHI-“

“You’ll just have to learn the hard way,” he tuts, his fingers wrapping around your throat. He leans in, pulling his dick out of you and thrusting it back in.

“Very, hard way.”

You gasp, the sudden full feeling of his big cock inside of you cooking the band in your lower belly. He continues driving into you, and you struggle to keep quiet.

“B-baby, I… I t-told you Ridoc’s just a friend-“

His hand releases your throat, opting to splay along your jaw instead. A tortured horny expression crosses his face as he stares down at you, his thumb slipping between your lips.

“Don’t ever say another man’s name while I’m fucking you,” he growls, his hips snapping harder against your ass. “If he’s such a good friend, why was he eye-fucking my girlfriend today then, huh?”

You moan, his irritation only turning you on. Bodhi hated when other men flirted with you — so much he could barely control himself sometimes. Today, on the training mat; well, that was certainly no exception.

He grunts as he fucks his long cock into you, his gaze fixated on your bared breasts as they bounce with each minstration. His mouth drops open slightly, a few brown curls falling to his tanned forehead.

You suck, bringing his attention back to your lips. He retracts his finger, and you immediately open your mouth and stick your tongue out flat.

Immediately he groans as his bottom lip catches between his teeth; you knew that move would get him.

“So fucking hot, baby,” he praises, his fingers lovingly tracing along your jawline as his thrusts grow sloppy. You reach down, your fingers playing with your cliff as he nears the edge of release.

“Gods… you’re… oh fuck,” he sighs, watching your stomach muscles tighten with the added friction. The coil, red hot inside you, threatens to snap.

“Bodhi… you’re gonna make me cum,” you whine, gazing up at him with your big doe-eyes. He grunts in pleasure, wrapping his hands around your thighs as he thrusts into you a few final times.

He gasps, his cock twitching against your velvety walls as he releases his cum inside of you. This was the final push you’d needed, as you clench around him, milking his dick for all he’s got.

You cry out in pleasure, slightly trembling as your orgasm rolls through you. He pants, his fingers tracing up and down your thighs as he watches you come down from your high. Only catching your breath for a moment, he pulls out — the sudden emptiness bringing a pout to your lips.

He leans over, kissing your lips with all the love he has for you. When he pulls back, you can only grin at him. Your boyfriend— only yours.

“You just remember that next time another guy sets his sights on you.”

✧･ﾟ: *

[lvrrgirlll]

Running a cozy little bed and breakfast and hobo!Patrick charms you into letting him stay for free

The little bell sat on the front desk dinging broke your attention from the coffee you were in the process of making yourself. Walking through the doorway between the kitchen and front entryway, you smile, seeing the disheveled man before you, tapping his fingers against the desk mindlessly.

“Hi, um, I was wondering if I could get a room for the night,” the man asked, tired eyes meeting yours hopefully.

“Of course, it’s $100 a night and that includes breakfast in the morning.” You don’t miss how clearly attractive he is. He looks to be around your age —maybe a little older— and has a sort of swagger that you can’t exactly describe, even despite his tired state.

As he held his credit card up to the machine on the end of the desk, the hopeful look in his eyes seemed to dissipate. He chuckled, looking up at you and offering a tight lipped smile as if it was just a mistake with the machine. “One second…” he murmured, pulling out his phone to check his bank account. You didn’t miss the quiet “oh fuck” that left his mouth as he looked down at his phone before putting it back in his pocket.

He leaned on the desk, laughing dryly as a smirk crossed his face. “So uh… funny story, sweetheart. I’m sort of short on funds. But I’m a tennis player, I’m playing in the challenger a couple miles down the road and if I could just crash here tonight I can pay you back when I win…” His expression is smug but his voice drips with desperation. You can see the dark circles under his eyes and the way his eyelids hang low. He’s endearing, but admittedly smells sort of… ripe. And his pleading eyes really sell it all. How could you say no to him?

Smiling at him again, trying to be warm and understanding, not wanting to embarrass him for his lack of funds, you nod. “Um- sure, you can stay here tonight without paying… yet, that is. As long as you’re sure you’ll win that thing.”

“Oh, I don’t think we have to worry about that,” he muses cockily. “But I get a minimum for just playing in the first round anyways, so even if I lose tomorrow I’ll be able to pay you,” he tacks on seriously.

“Alrighty,” you nod again. “You can follow me up to your room.”

The two of you walk silently up the stairs where 4 doors lie in a small hallway. You open one up, motioning for him to enter as you turn the lights on. The room is quaint but in a cozy sort of way. You ensure he’s settled in and knows where everything is before moving for the door, ready to leave him be. Something in you, though, longs to keep him around as long as you can. His charming air has captured you.

“Have you already eaten dinner,” you ask, turning to look at him, leaning on the doorframe.

Something flashes across his face —surprise maybe. He seems genuinely flattered by your question. Maybe it was just the fact that he hadn’t actually eaten, too eager to get where he was going and concerned he wouldn’t have enough gas if he pulled off the highway to stop anywhere, or maybe it was because he found you irresistible, but he felt a pang of hunger (which type, who’s to say?) in that moment.

“No, I, uh… I haven’t eaten, actually,” he replies gently.

You hum in understanding. “Well I was going to make myself some grilled cheese and tomato soup if you want any? It’s the slow season here so it’s just you and me, but you’re welcome to join if you like.” He nods as you leave with another sweet smile, heading down to the kitchen.

Right as you’re getting the second sandwich out of the pan, your heart footsteps on the creaky floorboards, alerting you of his presence. “Oh, hi. Dinner’s ready.”

He nods, taking a seat at the small table in the kitchen. You bring over his food, then yours, before moving to the fridge, asking if he wanted anything to drink. “Got any beer,” he asks carelessly. You turn around holding two beers in your hands, smiling from ear to ear.

Over dinner the two of you talk about his tennis career, where he strategically avoids telling you about his sort of ‘fall from grace’ and how he got to the point he got to. You’re impressed, of course. He asks you about what made you start a b&b in some random countryside town, to which you tell him how it had been run by your late grandmother before you took over when your parents decided they didn’t want the business. He comments how nice it was for you to do something like that.

Despite his obviously sort of sleazy vibe, he’s been so kind thus far. You’re completely enraptured in him and he knows it too. He can see it in the way you look at him and the way you bite your lip when he says something sort of risqué and the way you rub your thighs together when he stretches, revealing the tiniest bit of his toned abdomen.

The night ends with him in your room instead of his own, taking out all of his troubles on you in the most pleasant ways imaginable. Safe to say, you let him stay through the whole challenger, no longer really worried about the money, but more about the devilishly handsome man before you.

[adverbally]

No Love for You Like Mine

Written for the @steddiemicrofic February prompt “rose” | wc: 367 | rated: T | cw: allusion to period-typical societal homophobia | tags: established relationship, fluff, Valentine’s Day, hopeless romantic Steve Harrington

———

“You better not let me crash,” Steve warns. He wobbles as Eddie leads him into the bedroom, ring-covered hands covering his eyes. The warmth of Eddie’s body bumps into him with each step.

“I won’t,” Eddie promises, amusement coloring his voice. He guides them to a stop. “Now keep your eyes closed.”

Steve wonders if Eddie can feel the movement of his eyes rolling beneath his hands. “They’re closed.”

He immediately misses the contact when Eddie lets go and steps away, quiet on socked feet.

“I know we said no gifts, but I couldn’t not do something,” Eddie explains. He sounds nervous but excited, like he had the first time he played Steve one of the songs he’d written about him. “So, uh, you can open your eyes now.”

It takes a moment for Steve’s vision to adjust, then another for him to process what he’s seeing. There are candles lit on nearly every flat surface in the room, casting a warm glow over the otherwise dark bedroom. A bottle of champagne sits beside a platter of chocolate-covered strawberries on the nightstand. Rose petals have been sprinkled across the duvet in the shape of a heart.

Steve gawks at the romantic scene. “You…” His throat suddenly feels tight.

“It’s corny,” Eddie admits bashfully, “but it’s our first Valentine’s Day together so–”

He finally forces his gaze away from the display to look at Eddie, pink-cheeked and fiddling with the ends of his hair. “You did all this for me?” he croaks.

Eddie’s face softens. He pulls Steve into an embrace, arms winding around Steve’s waist while Steve loops his around Eddie’s neck. “Maybe I can’t go out and tell the world how much I love you with the whole–” his face scrunches disdainfully– “fancy dinner-date thing. But I can tell you. Show you.”

“You show me all the time,” he objects.

“In little ways, yeah, but not, like, a big romantic gesture.”

Steve shakes his head but he can’t stop smiling. “This is… Nobody’s ever done something like this for me.”

“You deserve it.”

It’s obvious that Eddie means it, love sparkling in his eyes like the candlelight, tasting sweet in his mouth when Steve kisses him.

[eyelambspider]

♡ My Cuddles! || König & Krueger

┊pairing : könig x gn!reader x sebastian krueger ┊content warning : fluff, slight jealousy, cuddles, a little suggestive, swearing ┊word count : 1.3 k ┊a/n : look-sometimes you just need two masked men who want to fight for your cuddles alright? *sobbing defending myself*

It was going to be a long fucking night, that much was for sure. The night watch duty was torn between the three of you: König, Krueger & Yourself.

With your hour already done, it was time to get a bit of sleep before the next one.

With the masks hanging ominously over their faces. The two Austrian men watched as you walked with a heavy step over the the only bed in the dim cabin. Eyes and intents hidden under dark fabric that blanketed their faces, neither relenting in their quest to keep their identities hidden.

Yet, both head turned subtly, trailing after your retreating form.

Krueger was sitting in the corner of the one room cabin, shucking quiet pieces of wood onto the ground. Digging his blade into a piece of wood as he carved it out and looked it over, pretending to keep busy even if his eyes flickered over and stole a glance at you taking your boots off.

König meanwhile, was standing by the window, arms folded over his chest and leaning against the wooden walls. Glaring out into the dark snowy night, making sure nothing shifted or moved out there. Pretending somewhat that his blue eyes weren't also flickering occasionally across the room to watch you slip under the covers of the blanket.

Your soft, satisfied sigh made them both momentarily pause. The sudden tension in their shoulders making the two men glance at each other.

Krueger's sniper veil swayed slightly as he considered König, and König's eyes turned icy, brows furrowing. A silent shared sentiment passing between them.

They were both thinking the same thing.

Krueger was the first to move, nearly jumping to his feet. Setting his rough carving down on the table, twirling the blade between his fingers before sheathing it back into his belt.

Under his hood, König's mouth hung open slightly at the man's audacity. Watching rigidly and slightly panicked as the veiled mercenary stalked over to the side of the bed, looming over you with an aura of mischief.

"Sleeping soundly?" he murmured, leaning over to gauge your expression better. The edges of his veil bristling against your arm as he whispered, "Cold, schatz?"

Before you could turn and address the sudden intrusion, Krueger was already slipping his boots off and crawling in behind you with a grunt. Throwing an heavy arm around your waist as if he's done this a thousand times before.

König's eyes widened, the shock evident through the small windows in his mask. His watch completely forgotten the moment Krueger lifted his head up, checked to see that König was looking, and with a seemingly satisfied-smug-gesture, his arm tightened around your waist... pulling your body flush against his own. Your ass pulled back against his hips.

If Krueger could see the tall snipers face, he'd bet there was a vein throbbing against his temple, ready to burst.

König's eye twitched, gloves creaking in protest as they balled up into tight fists.

He crossed the room in a few strides, looming over the other side of the bed and damn near ripping the blanket off. "Was zum Teufel!" he whisper yelled harshly, icy eyes glued to Krueger's body against yours like he wanted to strangle him. "What the fuck are you doing!?"

Krueger hardly flinched, resting his chin on your shoulder innocently-the bastard. "I'm keeping meinen Kleinen Liebling warm."

"You are making things uncomfortable!" they continued to whisper shout to each other, as if you weren't quite literally stuck between the argument to protest yourself.

Kruger huffed, reaching a gloved hand to tilt your chin his way. Able to see your face over your shoulder.

Your face was the picture of perfection to him. Inviting, surprised, and a beautiful dark blush blossomed across the bridge of your nose, spilling onto the architecture of your face.

"Are you uncomfortable, schatz?" he purred the name out, unable to help the way his body was starting to react with you so close. You fit so perfectly against him... like you were made to fit in his arms. The bubble of warmth between your two bodies pleasant... and your hips pulled back against his was giving him ideas.

König watched on in horror and Krueger's gloved hand gave your hip and experimental squeeze. The color draining from his skin the moment you shook your head quietly. The blush painting your complexion all-telling.

König had no fucking choice but to back up then, if you had no protests then there shouldn't be any further discussion...

but he watched as Krueger cuddled his veiled face into your hair, breathing you in enthusiastically as you tensed. His actions making your pulse visibly jump under the delicate skin of your throat. Krueger's arms wrapping more firmly around your waist... wandering up to try and splay across your chest- and no way he was going to take that any longer.

A surprise to everyone, König had lifted the blanket hastily, inviting himself into the tangle of limbs.

A small surprised squeak came from your lips, the bed dipping as König climbed in quickly, his own arms wrapping around your back and pulling you into his chest. The two of them beginning to fight like two little boys on the playground.

"Verdammt, du großer bastard!" Kruger hissed as your shoulders were pulled away from his chest, the cold filling in your sudden absence. He gripped at your hips a bit harder, determined to pull you back.

"Halt die klappe! Du kleines arschloch!" König gritted out, much stronger than him.

Both of them huddled closer, leaving no inch for you to even squirm away. Their bodies brushing and squishing you lightly between them.

König reached over your shoulder, pushing insistently against Krueger, trying to peel him off your body like a bug. The sniper's hard chest and arm barring you against him.

Krueger was hardly taking the sudden childish act, retaliating with his own. His leg shuffled between yours, kicking at König's shins, trying to push him out of the bed that he had claimed first.

"Hey," you whispered, between their little scuffle. König's hand pushing at Krueger's veiled face, smearing his head away, while Krueger's foot was getting closer to kicking König in the balls. The two not noticing your growing exasperation.

"Hey!" you finally shot up, their limbs halting to glance up at you. For a moment, both feared you would get up and leave their arms empty. And just like that... they calmed, listening despite the scowls on their hidden faces.

"Both of you... just... be quiet and go to sleep... or don't, I don't care," you muttered, falling back into the bed with a soft thump.

The two of them watched your face quietly before turning to each other. An ominous 'you almost fucking ruined it' aura seeping from both of them.

"Just... stop fucking moving," you murmured sleepily. As much as they were, the two of them were actually really warm. Wrapping around you like the worlds best weighted blanket.

You relaxed against them, letting your eyes flutter closed to find a moments peace. The feeling of you softening made both of their heart flutter dangerously in their chests.

Begrudgingly, they complied, muttering quiet curses.

König cradled your head close to his chest, smoothing down your hair with an almost imperceptible touch that belied his size, your leg bent delicately over his own... and Krueger held your hips, wrapping a gentle arm around your stomach, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. The quiet and calm finally seeping into the cabin.

everyone give anon a kiss for helping & correcting the translations :)

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Hit Me Where It Hurts The Most p.4 | S.B.

feat. Sirius Black x Rowle!reader

SUMMARY: You attend the Lestrange Gala on Rabastan's arm, finally making your family proud. But all things must come to the light, and with time running out, a decision must be made.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, pure blood ideology, manipulative and abusive families, angst angst angst, protective!Sirius, hurt/comfort, HEA

AN: wow! this is long! but ahhh! can't believe we've reached the final part of the series!! but don't worry, I'm not done with this one quite yet...

series navigation | part one | part two | part three | masterlist

You tried to focus on the book in your lap, but the words were swimming on the page, taking the shape of your argument with Sirius.

He's lying to you.

You don't understand.

Please don't leave.

He'd been so passionate, so single-minded in his desire for you—it scared the shit out of you. His words were pretty, his intentions righteous, but was that enough?

For so long, the story of your life has been drilled into your head. Over and over and over again. A wealthy man's wife, the jewel of his crown, the mother of his children, keeper of the bloodline.

What were you beyond that? Who were you, if not obedient?

The train rolled loudly beneath you, the Scottish country side a blur of green and gray. It was a long weekend, and it seemed loads of students were taking advantage.

Before boarding, you caught a glimpse of James and Sirius with some bags waiting in a patch of sunshine. Of course James Potter would use a free weekend to visit his parents.

Sirius was puffing on a cigarette, staring down at the tracks while James talked animatedly about something you couldn't hear. He looked…sad. And you turned away, following your brother onto the back of the train.

You were in a compartment with Thorfinn, his long legs stretched out and resting on the cushion beside you, his head lolled against the window. But you knew he wasn't sleeping, because his snores would rattle the windows more than the train.

He was oddly quiet, though, and the threat of danger buzzed like a gnat around your head. You wished you'd insisted on sharing at compartment with Rab, but Thorfinn dragged you away before you could open your mouth.

“What are you staring at?” He gruffed, peaking open one of his eyes to peer at you.

You hurriedly looked down at your book, but it was too late. He pushed himself up, cracking his thick neck before bracing his elbows on his knees and leaning towards you.

“We need to talk.”

You closed your book, setting it aside with trembling fingers. “What about?”

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. A bizarrely human gesture of discomfort. “Father wrote two weeks ago, the—the business is not going well.”

Your stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

It looked like it genuinely pained him to be telling you this, and your addled mind couldn't begin to decipher it. “We're running out of money, y/n. Rapidly. If things continue, we may lose…” he trailed off, staring down at his fine leather shoes. “We may lose everything.”

“Why are you just telling me this now?” You asked, voice tight with fear. Was there anything secure in your life anymore? At every turn, if seemed danger and uncertainty lurked.

All you ever wanted was safety, and that seemed more impossible by the day.

“I didn't want it to affect—” he waved vaguely towards the closed compartment door. Towards Rabastan. “I didn't want it to be a factor. Father told me to keep it from you, but sister—” he reached for your hand, the bandage removed by Madame Pomfry that morning, and it took every ounce of willpower you'd built to not pull away. “You may be our last hope.”

You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes. “I can't, Thor—”

“You already are,” he said. “With the Lestrange's on our side, Father can turn this around. Save our family.”

You held his icy gaze, shocked by what was transpiring. Thor hadn't spoken to you like this in…Merlin, years? He'd become so tight-lipped, so hostile, you'd forgotten that there was man inside that brutal, glacial exterior.

But…was he a man you trusted?

“I should go to him now, then,” you said, the compartment suddenly stifling. “Have some quiet time before the party.”

Thorfinn nodded. “I'm not supposed to allow unsupervised meetings, but…this once I can let it slide.”

“Thank you, brother.” You leaned forward to kiss his cheek, surprising him, before slipping out of the compartment before he changed his mind.

You slumped against the wall, catching your breath and wiping tears from your cheeks. How had this all ended up on your shoulders? Your family, your future, your feelings, Sirius’ feelings—it was too much.

All you ever wanted was safety. Security.

For a moment of delirious hope you thought about tracing down Sirius’ compartment, begging him to take you to the Potter Manor with him. Let yourself want him as recklessly as he did you. But what Sirius offered was a pipedream, a fantasy, and you'd always been a practical girl.

You could only see one reality laid before you. Unrolled like a red carpet at your feet.

No matter how you felt about Sirius, how much you felt for him, could you risk everything for a shot at something as fickle as love?

What happened when he got tired of you in six months? When the novelty wore off? When the heat of an illicit affair turned tepid and stale?

Sirius would resent you. You would resent him. It could only end in heartbreak for the both you. Could only end in pain.

You raped a knuckle on the door of Rabastan's compartment.

“Come in,” he called, sounding a bit distracted.

You slid open the door, peaking your head in. “Am I disturbing you?”

He closed the book in his lap, setting aside the quill in his hand for notes. Dressed in luxurious clothes, even for a train ride he thought he'd be spending alone. “Never, darling. Are you alright?”

You sat on the cushion beside him, his dark eyes sweeping over you, tangible as a caress. “Thorfinn is snoring too loud for me to think straight,” you lied. “And I thought maybe we could spend some time together, before tonight?”

He smiled, turning so his back was braced against the train window and he was facing you, one leg propped up on the seat. It was a casual position, spread out and languid, and your cheeks flushed with heat at the near indecency of it.

Rabastan never did anything by mistake, and this was no exception. His perceptive eyes watched your reaction, and something sinful flickered to life in them as the blush stained your skin.

“Your brother was under strict orders to prevent unsupervised interactions,” Rab pointed out, tilting his head slightly.

“We'll be in London by the time he wakes up, he won't even notice,” you replied.

He made a soft, contemplative sound in his throat. “I didn't take you for the rebellious type, little doe.” He pushed his dark hair back from his face, revealing every sharp angle and curve, a face carved by the Goddess Aphrodite herself. Flawless.

You'd make beautiful, perfectly pureblood children, that was for sure. Not that you cared much for that, beauty or blood status, and you hadn't ever really contemplated whether you wanted children. It was just what was done.

“I'm not, usually,” you said. “I'm not sure what's come over me.” At least that wasn't entirely a lie.

“You always have this lost look in your eye,” he murmured. “Beautiful, fuck, you're beautiful. But sad, aren't you?”

His words struck a chord, tears brimming once more, weighing down the buoyancy of his praise.

You were so tired of being sad all the time, afraid. You just wanted to forget for awhile, and just be.

Rab shifted, setting his feet on the ground and moving closer to you. His hand came up to cup your cheek, turning your face towards him. “Darling, I could make you so happy.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, achingly tender, and a sob wrenched itself from your chest. “Sh, sh, my love, it's alright now.” He swiped away your tears with his thumbs. “You're safe with me. You'll never know hardship or pain again, if you just let me take care of you.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes, his expression painfully sincere. And you knew he meant it, knew that he would never let harm come to his wife. If you were his, you were as secure as gold in Gringott's. Untouchable.

“Just tell me what you need from me, and it's yours,” he whispered, eyes shimmering with promise.

Right now, all you wanted was to forget. To feel something other than gnawing, consuming fear.

“Don't want to think anymore,” you breathed. “I'm so tired of thinking.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, sharp as a dagger and twice as dangerous. “I think I can manage that.” He dragged you towards him, molding his lips to yours. You leaned into him, letting his mouth guide yours through the lush, toe-curling kiss. His tongue glided over your lower lip, tasting you, and you parted for him, moaning as his tongue twined with yours.

Rab felt so good, so assured and deliberate. It was easy to give in to him, to let him take the lead.

One of his arms looped around your waist, hauling you up and into his lap, straddling him. His hand on your face slid into your hair, gentle but firm as he deepened the kiss. Your heart beat wildly in your chest, heat spilling into your lower belly. You gave a tentative roll of your hips, desperate for more than a kiss, and you felt him smile against your mouth.

“Eager, darling?” He purred, kissing down your neck. “As tempting as you are, little doe, there will be none of that until you're mine.”

“Rab,” you whined, digging your fingers into his muscular shoulders, head tipping back to give him more access.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty.” His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his chest as he thrust his hips up, making you gasp. “Go on, sweetheart. Show me what a perfect little wife you'll be.”

His words send a terrifying, exhilarating thrill through your body, a visceral reaction beyond rationality. It was a like a drunk being passed a handle of whiskey, everything you ever wanted at your fingertips.

Pretty little wife.

A path. A plan. A purpose.

You rocked your hips against him again, crying out when the thick bulge of his cock grazed your clit. Yes, yes, yes. Fuck, it felt so good, losing yourself in him. Letting the world slip free from your shoulders like the moans slipping from your lips.

Rab chuckled low in his throat, his hand skimming down your stomach, dipping beneath your skirt and panties to feel your dripping pussy, leaking obediently into his hand as his middle finger swirled your entrance. “You're a vision, darling. Absolute perfection,” he praised, the words hot and breathy against your skin. “Being so good.” His finger slipped inside of you, curling against your gooey walls, and you keened, aching thighs working you even faster against his palm.

“Mmph—Rab, m’so close,” you whimpered, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“Go on, let go for me. There's my precious girl, that's it—” his whispered encouragement sent you over the edge, muffling your cry into his neck as pleasure seized you, hips bucking erratically as you rode out your high.

“Fuck, fuck,” you gasped, heart pounding in your ears, between your legs, as you slowly returned to earth, melting into his sturdy embrace.

Rabastan slid his fingers from you, taking a small taste of you for himself before feeding the digit between your lips. “Well done, love. Came so pretty for me.” He kissed along your temple, your cheek while you sucked yourself off of his finger.

He withdrew his finger, patting your cheek like you would an obedient dog, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Suddenly, what you were doing hit you like a ton of bricks. You'd crawled into his lap like a bitch in heat, desperate and lonely, and so pathetic—your whole body stiffened in his arms, fighting the urge to recoil from him.

How could you have done this? Walked into his trap so willingly after everything? Betrayed Sirius’ open-heart so completely?

It took everything in you to swallow the tears forcing their way up your throat.

The train whistled, long and ear-splitting, and you jumped off his lap, so relieved your knees nearly gave out beneath you.

“Thor is going to wake up, I have to go.” You righted yourself, willfully ignoring the wet spot you left on his designer trousers, the raging hard on still tenting in his lap. “I'll see you tonight?”

“Run along, little doe. I'll see you tonight.” He waved you away.

You hurried back into the hall, nearly tipping over your feet when the train started to slow as it approached the station.

Thor wrenched open the compartment door, blue eyes landing on you. You have him a stiff nod, knowing what he wanted from you, and he grinned, jagged as the spikes of a bear trap.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. The emerald gown Rab selected for you was exquisite, tailored to perfection from its halter neckline to the slit reaching towards your hip. It looked like it had been poured onto you, hugging every curve. You should feel beautiful, but instead you felt deeply vulnerable. Like you may as well walk out there naked. All your secrets from the last month written across your skin.

After departing from the train, you and Thorfinn met up with your parents for tea, and you endured their endless questions and backhanded praise, leaving you feeling battered and even more ashamed than you already had.

It all felt so…hopeless.

Your eye wandered to your trunk, where the invisibility cloak was hidden away. A final sliver of hope. You didn't think you were brave enough to use it, if this morning was any indication. But you'd brought it anyways, knowing it was what Sirius wanted.

Your mind tugged one way, your heart another. Without this marriage your family could be left destitute. Your future a compete mystery.

And clearly, the allure of Rabastan's security and power was more formidable than you'd bargained for. The slightest push, and you'd folded. Fear making you desperate, foolish, cowardly.

And maybe that's what you were. Maybe Sirius was wrong about you.

The door to your suite creaked open, your mother sticking her head through the crack. “Are you finished yet?”

“Yes, mother,” you replied, rising from your makeup table and smoothing your dress. “I'm ready.”

You walked arm and arm with your mother down to the party, tuning out her endless instructions on how you should act and heave, who you should speak to, who you should ignore.

But as soon as you stepped into the ballroom, she fell silent in awe. It was stunningly lavish, every table dripping in velvet and diamonds,the glittering chandeliers overhead extravagant enough to compete with Gringotts. The marble floor clicked under your heels, the sound swallowed up by the band on the stage and the mingling voices floating on the air.

You knew the Lestrange's were wealthy, but this…

“Ah! There are my beautiful girls!” Your father appeared, Reinhard Lestrange on his left, Rabastan and Rodolpus flanking him like sentinels. “Don't you look lovely, darling.” Your father took your hands, bringing your knuckles to his lips, and you had to fight to control your expression. Your father never showed affection

Unconsciously, you glanced up at Rabastan. His eyes were trained on you, a pleased gleam lighting up his face, and you flushed. Reinhard seemed to notice the exchange, and looked at you with more interest.

“It's a pleasure to finally meet you,” he drawled, his voice having the same smooth cadence as his younger son. “Reinhard Lestrange.” He offered a hand, and you placed your fingers in his, and he brushed a kiss to your knuckles.

“It's an honor, sir,” you cooed despite your heart beating wildly in your chest, curtsying low.

A small smile ghosted his mouth, an echo of Rabastan's. “No wonder my son is so besotted, it's rare to meet such a competent young lady. Let alone one as striking as you.”

Besotted. You caught Rodolpus and Rabastan exchange a look, Rodolpus a teasing smirk, Rabastan a half-hearted glare.

“I only have my parents to thank for my nature, sir,” you said, and your parents beamed.

Reinhard chuckled. “So, what went wrong with your brother then?” Reinhard teased, surprising you with his sense of humor.

“Well, there's always one,” you shrugged, glancing at Rodolpus, and Reinhard burst out laughing.

Rabastan gave you a proud wink, and you bit your lip to stop from grinning. Rodolpus chuckled too, elbowing his brother, and you exhaled in relief. Maybe you could do this.

“Quite right, darling. Lucky Bella didn't hear that though, she's rip those pretty eyes right out.” Reinhard clapped Rodolpus on the shoulder. “Come, dinners about to begin.”

Rabastan swooped in as your party began to move, looping your arm through his. He looked wonderful, like one of those American movies stars, so dapper in his perfectly pressed black suit.

He leaned down towards you, keeping you close as you navigated the crowd. “Masterfully done, darling. I haven't seen my father laugh in weeks.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, waving at Evan and Regulus as you walked past them, their jaws a bit slack as they stared at you.

Rab cast them a warning glare, and they snapped their heads back to one another. “You look beautiful, though I doubt it needs to be said considering the trail of broken necks.”

“It's the dress, Rab. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever worn,” you said, looking up at him through dark lashes. “I'm so grateful.”

He leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “You'll have a closet full of the finest things, little doe.”

You reached the table and he pulled a chair out for you. You sat down, letting him slide you closer to he table before taking his seat beside you, to the right of his brother. Thorfinn sat beside your father, who was at Reinhards left. Your brother cast you an appraising glance, but turned his attention back to your father with barely an acknowledgement. Your heart deflated a bit.

Rabastan shook his head, frowning at the hurt tugging down the corners of your mouth. “And I thought my brother was an arse.”

“I resent that,” Rodolpus muttered, taking a sip of champagne. His wild-haired wife sat beside him, curled around his arm like a snake, her eyes meandering over your face.

Bellatrix Lestrange, once a Black. You could see the Black genes written all over her, from the bone structure to the haunting gray eyes. A jilted pang made you wince down at your plate.

How badly you wished Sirius was here. And he would be, you supposed, if Walburga and Orion Black weren't despicable wastes of oxygen.

You glanced down the table, finding them sitting with Regulus' between them, his eyes cast down at his plate while his parents talked over his head. From the movement of Walburgas mouth, you knew what they were talking about: Sirius.

Regulus felt your gaze and looked up, his eyes connecting with yours. His jaw feathered with tension, and thread of connection in spooling between you. He must see the hurt reflected in your eyes well.

You looked away.

Dinner dragged down for what felt like eons, tiny plate after tiny plate of priceless, exotic food, and endless flutes of champagne.

After dessert, Rabastan coaxed you out onto the dancefloor, where you waltzed and turned for another hour or so. But you couldn't get Regulus' expression out of your mind, couldn't shake the harrowing feeling it left behind.

We aren't supposed to be here, it screamed.

You'd never particularly enjoyed these parties, volleying with Sirius had always been your favorite part even if you'd never admit it. You felt his absence like a missing rib.

Had you ever missed Rabastan like that? Felt a moment was lacking, a meal was tasteless, a song was hollow, because Rabastan wasn't there to enjoy it with you?

The answer came with dizzying clarity: not even once.

But you felt it constantly with Sirius. Even at the wretched party, you so wished he could hear the sonorous band, or got to taste the bizarrely sweet squid patté just so you could exchange the same disgusted glance.

Everything felt brighter, lighter with Sirius.

But, the toll of the Lestrange clocktower sounded like a death knell. There was no going back.

You heart fractured, sending a wave of despair so intense, you stumbled over Rabastan’s foot.

He hauled you closer to his chest, steadying you. “Are you alright, darling?” He murmured, gently brushing your hair from your forehead. “Ready to sit for a spell?”

You nodded, allowing him to escort you towards a set of chairs in a quieter corner of the party. He flagged down a waiter to bring you a glass of water, and procured a fan from another.

“I have some business to discuss with my father, will you be alright on your own for a bit?” He asked, petting the top of your head.

“I'm alright, thank you, Rab,” you replied, taking a sip of water to try and force down the knot of emotion in your throat.

He kissed your cheek before disappearing into the crowd. You noticed your brother peel off from his place at the bar with some girl to follow him, and alarm bells sounded in the back of your mind.

You had a terrible, bone-deep feeling that the business they were discussing was you.

When you looked around, no one was paying you any mind. Your parents were nowhere to be seen, and neither were the male Lestrange's.

This might be your only chance to find out what they had in store for you.

As quickly as you could without drawing attention, you made your way out of the party and up to your room, fanning yourself and hoping anyone that noticed you would simply think you were poorly and retiring to your room.

You ditched your heels and grabbed the invisibility cloak, wrapping around yourself. You watched yourself disappear in the mirror, and a thrill of excitement shot up your spine. Sirius' cologne still lingered on the fabric, and it brought you a bit of comfort.

After stuffing some pillows under your duvet, you slipped out of the room, invisible as a wraith, a closed the door softly behind you. You hurried down the halls of the massive manor, wracking your brain to remember the brief tour their house Rabastan gave you upon arrival. You turned down the hall you remembered him skipping over, the walls decorated with art too fine to be unimportant like he'd implied.

A few feet down the hall, you could hear your father's voice floating through a crack in the door.

“This is my daughter we're talking about, Lestrange,” he bit.

“What you're proposing is absurd, Rowle,” Reinhard replied, sounding almost bored. “Especially considering it seems she'd marry my son of her own volition.”

“Not without our permission, she wouldn't. And she will have no such blessing until the amount is paid in full.”

Your throat dried. What amount?

Rabastan chuckled, the sound low and patronizing. “You think she cares what you think, Thorfinn?”

“Of course she does,” your father snapped. “Don't pretend you know her, or care about her.”

Silence echoed around the hall, drawn to a razors edge. You shifted to peer into the room, finding Rabastan leaning against his father's desk, eyes dark with rage.

Thorfinn stepped between Rabastan and your father, and Rodolpus moved to stand beside his younger brother, looking decidedly more casual than the rest of them.

Rodolpus alone could mop the floor with your family, and they knew it.

“Care about her?” Rabastan growled. “Have you not come to my house to sell her like merchandise?”

“Rabastan,” Reinhard warned.

Rabastan pushed off the desk, prowling closer. “Merchandise, which, I feel inclined to mention, you damaged?”

Your stomach dropped, and Thorfinn blanched.

“What?” Your father hissed, turning to Thorfinn.

“Damaged how?” Reinhard asked, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder.

Rabastan went quiet, letting Thorfinn sweat, before he shook his head. “Damaged metaphorically, of course,” he said, leaning back against the desk and Thorfinn sagged a bit in relief.

“Regardless, you ask too much, Rowle,” Reinhard continued, casting a warning glare at Rabastan.

“How much would a daughter of your own be worth, Reinhard?” Your mother asked, and you gasped. Your mother was never one to speak out of turn.

Reinhard’s expression darkened. “That's the difference between us, witch. I would never put a price on my child's head,” he snarled. “I've only agreed to be a part of this because my son insisted.”

You braced a hand on the wall, shock rocking through you. Not only were they trying to sell you, Rabastan wanted to buy you?

“Father—”

“Enough. I know you're soft on the girl, but—”

“Fine,” your father interrupted, making Reinhard grit his teeth. “Make it 15,000 galleons.”

You felt like you might be sick. How could you family do this to you? Thorfinn's words earlier echoed in your mind. The business is not going well. You may be our last hope.

You didn't realize he meant it so literally.

Reinhard looked at Rabastan. “Is she worth it, son?”

You couldn't stick around for his answer. You took off down the hall, bare feet slapping on the marble, tears streaming down your face.

An arranged marriage, one of mutual gain, was one thing, but to be sold? It made you sick. How could Rabastan agree to that? How could he touch you, kiss you, knowing that he was purchasing you like livestock? Had you ever had a choice? Would they drag you down the aisle in shackles?

You pushed your way through the party and out the grand front doors, flying down the steps. The ground was frigid and rough beneath your bare feet, but you ran anyways, leaving the shadow of Lestrange Manor far behind you.

You couldn't get back Hogwarts without the train, and there was only one other place you could think of to go.

In a sickening whirl of color, the spell spit you out on the stone steps of candlelit porch, framed with enchanted flowers that bloomed brightly despite the winter chill: Potter Manor.

You stared up at the front door, heart racing so fast you could barely breathe. There was no turning back from this.

You reached a hand up and knocked three times.

A few moments later, James pulled open the door, dressed like he was about to go to sleep. Fuck, you hadn't even considered how late it was.

“Y/n?” He asked, adjusting his glasses.

“I'm sorry, I—”

“Y/n?” Sirius pushed in front of James, eyes wide. He was shirtless, flannel sweatpants slung low. His smattering of archaic ink a stark contrast to his fair skin, and for a second you forgot what you were doing here. “Are you okay?” Sirius asked, ushering you into the foyer and closing the door. “Are you hurt?” He pushed the cloak from your shoulders, revealing the gown you were wearing, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“No, no. I—” a sob welled up, choking off your voice.

“Oh, darling, come here.” He bundled you into his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around your body while you cried into the curve of his neck, fists balled up against his abdomen. “Sh, sh, it's alright, love. I've got you,” he murmured into your hair, pressing kisses into the side of your head. “I've got you now.”

He held you a bit tighter, lifting you into a bridal holding, making you cry harder.

“What's going on?” You heard an unfamiliar man ask, and you clung tighter to Sirius, fear streaking through you.

“Shh, it's James' father. You're safe,” he whispered, carrying you across the house and depositing you onto a chaise in a sitting room.

Distantly, you could hear James explaining who you were in a hushed voice.

“I didn't know where else you go,” you sniffled, taking a stuttering inhale. “I'm sorry for barging in.”

“Nonsense,” he shushed you, crouching down in front of you and offering a handkerchief. “You're right where your meant to be.”

You dabbed your eyes and nose, smearing mascara all over the clean fabric and cringed.

“Can you tell me what happened, love?” He asked, brows furrowed with concern.

“They—he—” your voice splintered, another wave of panic and sobs dragging you under.

“Okay, you don't have to say anything.” He shifted to sit on the couch and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you trembled. You buried your face into his neck and let yourself cry, and cry, and cry.

All the stress and fear of the last few weeks bubbled up and poured out of you until you were gasping, hollowed out and raw.

Something shuffled in the room, and you suddenly remembered you were not alone. Sirius appeared to have the same realization, glancing over his shoulder at his friend and his parents.

You braced yourself for the barrage of questions, but instead you heard James’ mother murmur, “Would she like some tea?”

“Love?” Sirius asked, turning to you. “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head, embarrassment scorching your cheeks. “M'okay, thank you Mrs. Potter,” you mumbled.

“Chamomile tea would be great, mama, thank you,” Sirius answered for you, a twinge of exasperated affection in his voice.

“’Course. Be back in a bit,” she said, her voice so gentle it brought tears to your eyes once again, and you heard three sets of slippers shuffle out.

“Look at me,” Sirius murmured, cradling your face and lifting your head from the crook of his shoulder. “I need to apologize for yesterday. I let my own feelings cloud my judgement and I—I’m so sorry if I frightened you.”

“It frightened me because it was true.” You barely recognized your own voice, hoarse and small. “Because I wasn't ready to face it.”

“And now?” His gray eyes welled with something dangerously close to hope, and your heart gave a silly little flip.

For the first time, you didn't try to fight it. You just let the feeling bloom in your chest, warm and glittery, and you nodded into his neck, wrapping an arm around his middle.

“Now I know that I was building my life, myself, around a lie. None of it was real—” tears threatened to choke you again, but you fought them down. “How I feel about you is the only thing I know isn't stained by their lies. I know that it comes from me, the real me. And that’s why it scared me so much. They taught me not to trust myself…”

Sirius was quiet, eyes glossy with unshed tears, his thumb catching a stray tear as it rolled down your cheek.

You weren't sure if you were ready to give voice to what you heard, but you wanted to offer some kind of explanation for your sudden appearance. “I overheard something, and my instincts were screaming at me, and I just…I listened.”

“That's good, love. That was the right thing to do,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles around your back. “And I'm glad you came here.”

James sauntered into the sitting room, tray in hand. “I was wondering where the cloak went,” he said, crouching down in front of you and handing you a mug of tea. “You alright, mate?”

Mate. The word made your broken heart glow.

“I thought you ran it by him?” You asked, quirking a brow at Sirius.

Sirius shrugged. “James is a loud mouth.”

“Hey!”

“I heard you tried to go toe to toe with my brother,” you said, providing further proof of Sirius' accusation.

“And I'd do it again,” James huffed. “I'll do it now, if you want. Where is he?”

“Not Thorfinn, unfortunately. But you can tangle with me, if you'd like.” A low voice filled the room, startling the three of you to your feet. Rabastan stood leaned against the doorway, twirling his wand in his fingers. “Trusting sort, the Potters. Let me right in.”

James bolted out of the room in search of his parents and Sirius withdrew his wand, tugging you behind him.

“What did you do?” Sirius growled, and Rab rolled his eyes.

“Nothing, cousin. Now, get your hands off of my girl.” Rab straightened to his full height, but Sirius didn't falter.

Fuck this. “I heard you,” you snapped, stepping out from behind Sirius and raising your own wand as you stalked towards him. “I heard you talking with my parents. You fucking bought me?”

Rabastan's smug smile dropped. “No, I--”

“What am I worth, Rabastan? 15,000 galleons? Twenty?” you hissed, jabbing your wand under his chin.

“You didn't stick around for my answer, darling?” He countered, taking a step forward, closing the gap between you. “I said you were worth the trip to Azkaban after I gutted your brother like a fucking fish.”

You blinked. “What—”

“We were never going to buy you,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Or at least, I wasn't. I would only have you if you wanted me in return.” His fingers came up to caress your cheek, and you flinched away, taking a step back. “I thought you wanted me too,” he whispered, hurt straining the edges of his voice.

“You've been lying to me,” you said, taking another step back. “I can't trust you, or any of them.”

Rab's jaw flexed, his chin dropping to his chest in shame. “I'm sorry, little doe—”

“Don't fucking call me that.”

He turned his head like you’d slapped him, his hand flexing around his wand, eyes squeezing shut. A part of your heart ached with guilt, but you couldn’t forgive him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

James returned, wand raised. “You need to get out, Lestrange. Now,” he ordered.

“James, wait,” Sirius said, stepping forward and placing a steady hand on your shoulder. “So, you didn't go through with it?” The question was directed at Rab, who lifted his head to meet Sirius’ eyes.

“That’s why I came,” he said, looking back at you. “I called it off. All of it. But I need you to understand, you...you can’t go home.”

“What?” Panic closed like a fist around your throat.

“I’m sorry, darl—y/n.” He took a tentative step towards you, pocketing his wand. “When we discovered that you ran, your father—he disowned you.”

You sagged to the side, Sirius catching you around the waist. They disowned you. Cast you side like damaged goods. Like you were worthless to them now. “W-what?”

The room tilted around you again, your vision tunneling to a pinprick--

“Easy, love.” Sirius eased you back onto the chaise, cupping your face in an effort to keep you tethered to consciousness. “Take a breath for me, in—good girl—now breath out. Nice and long, that’s it.”

You followed his instructions, taking big, deep breaths until the darkness at the edge of your vision receded, your heart rate starting to slow.

“All they’ve done is set you free, doll,” Sirius said, smoothing your hair from your face. “You’re going to be alright.”

“Where will I go?” You sniffed, clutching at Sirius’ shirt. Over his shoulder, you saw pain flicker across Rabastan’s face, but he looked away, towards James.

“If I provide a stipend, would your family be able to house her? Since you Potter’s like stray’s so much?” He gestured to Sirius.

“It’s up to her,” Sirius interrupted, throwing his cousin a glare. “She can go where she wants.”

“You’re more than welcome,” James said, looking past the others towards you. “We’ve got plenty of room, no stipend required.” The last bit was directed at Rab, his voice turning barbed.

“The semester’s almost over,” Sirius added. “Could stay for the summer, than get your own place in London. If that's what you want to do.”

“And we’ll keep your brother far away, if needed,” Rabastan added. “I meant what I said. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Despite yourself, some of your resentment towards him loosened. He’d done the right thing in the end, and perhaps it wasn’t all a lie. This world had chewed you all up, one way or another, how much could you fault him for baring the scars of the monster that made him?

Those same scars nearly cost you everything. Everything being the man on his knees in front of you, the sincerest and most loyal person you'd ever known. The only person you ever trusted unconditionally and without restraint. He was everything you'd ever wanted, you'd just been to blinded by fear to see it.

“Thank you, Rab,” you murmured, and he dipped his chin. “And thank you, James,” you said, and he gave you two thumbs up. You took Sirius’ chin, turning his face to yours. “And you, Sirius, there aren’t enough ‘thank you’s’ in the world,” you whispered, and the smile he gave you was so lovesick, it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“Don’t you dare thank me,” he said, taking your hand from his face and placing it over his heart, beating rhythmically in the center of his bare chest. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, love. I’ll maim Lestrange’s pretty face right now if you want—”

“Fuck off, mutt—”

“That won’t be necessary,” you chuckled, leaning in to peck Sirius’ lips. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I suppose that’s my cue,” Rabastan said, adjusting his cuffs and looking everywhere but you and Sirius. “I’ll see you around the common room, then?”

“We’ll see—”

“Of course,” you placed a hand over Sirius’ mouth, silencing his attitude. He nibbled your palm in retaliation.

Rabastan dipped his chin in farewell and took his leave, glancing back at you a final time before stepping out into the quiet night.

You lowered your hand from Sirius’ mouth, giving him a phony scowl, and he bared his teeth, teasing you back.

“I’ll talk to my parents,” James said, rubbing the back of his head. “Sirius can show you to the empty guest room, though I suppose you won’t be using it—oi!” Sirius launched a pillow at James’ head, and he scampered away, disappearing down the hall.

Sirius turned his attention back to you, expression softening. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, holding your hands in his.

You nodded. “I’m okay…afraid, I suppose. But in a different way.” You traced the web of your fingers with your eyes, and brought your joined hands up to kiss across his scarred knuckles. “But Sirius, I’m not sure we should jump into anything quite yet.”

Sirius nodded, his eyes lingering on your lips. “We’ll go at your pace, whatever you want—so long as I can kiss you every six hours.”

You grinned, affection blooming like a burst of sunlight in your chest. “I think we can arrange that.” You leaned forward, pressing your tear-dampened lips to his, and for the first time, it didn’t hit you where it hurts the most, in your battered, bruised heart. It touched your soul instead, somewhere deeper, uncharted.

Somewhere new.

Thank you so much to everyone that read and supported this series! I'm so proud of it, and it was a joy to scream about it with you all 🫶

But don't worry, you haven't seen the last of Rabastan 😉

taglist: @lovelykat001, @carmenschemtrails, @lolalleins, @fangirl-swagg, @batboysanonymous, @watchmerora, @iheartnostalgia, @simars3, @elizabethblood9, @unstable-cucumber, @holholliday, @itisjustwhatitis