#or that he brazenly made them be something they didn’t want to be for the band with no regrets

[dontworryihaveyourblorbos]

I don’t really know how to say this in a better way so imma just say it

If you think John Dory is a bad character then respectfully, you have no idea what being an oldest sibling is like.

He didn’t abandon his brothers. He was pushed to a point of having to be responsible for four younger brothers, ranging from baby to teenager, trying to coordinate and pull off good if not perfect shows, trying to help Rosiepuff raise both them and himself while also dealing with trollstice and the troll tree while also struggling with an ever growing *need* to be perfect. It doesn’t matter how much you love your siblings- if you’re stressed enough, you’re going to snap and you’re going to snap at them. And you know what? He probably hated himself for that too. And for the fact that he couldn’t be perfect. Any oldest sibling knows the guilt of not being good enough and presumably tearing down their younger siblings in the process…it’s awful. No fuckin wonder he walked away, bro was what, 17?? 18??? He shouldn’t have had to do that. And he didn’t just abandon his brothers knowing what was gonna happen to Branch. From his perspective, he walked away knowing full well Spruce and Clay could step up, and that Rosiepuff would still be there. He had no way of knowing Branch would end up alone and gray, because if he did, he never would have left.

John Dory is not a bad character. He loves his brothers.

Edit: some people are saying he didn’t come back until he needed something. He came back to an empty troll tree- he thought his brothers were dead. He probably only left for a few months or so! He didn’t abandon them. He had every intention to come back and did. His family was just gone.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Jealousy Part 2

The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.

CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers

~

It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions. 

He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.

Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself. 

All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many. 

But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you. 

It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped. 

On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.

He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”

Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it. 

Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”

Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake. 

“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”

“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”

He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one. 

“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”

“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”

His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”

It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."

“But-”

“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”

Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something. 

He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”

“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”

You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze. 

Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it. 

“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting. 

And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him. 

You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.

He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed. 

He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”

He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes. 

You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”

“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”

You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.

It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous. 

Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.

He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.

He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.

You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.

You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason. 

He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"

A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.

“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?” 

"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.

Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.” 

You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”

Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?

Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."

You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”

But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”

Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”

It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances. 

But what about your lives were normal?

[ellecdc]

Baby…my love…my obsession. While you’re working hockey!marauders I would die for enforcer!sirius black. Even just a little blurb 😌😌😌

I will never say no to a hockey au, I won't lie.

hockey player!Sirius Black x team medic!reader who is not at all pleased with Sirius' theatrics /sarcasm [859 words]

CW: gn!reader, hockey fight, swearing, blood, flirting/banter

Sirius was on his feet before Krum even hit the ice, and he was shouting (and cursing) by the time Krum looked towards the referee as if saying ‘did you not see that?’ as he fixed his goalie mask and reached for the stick that was knocked clean out of his hands.

“Fucking interference! That was interference!” 

“I know Black, I saw it too.” Coach grumbled from behind him; sounding far calmer than his most violent defenceman though he was staring daggers at the linesman currently skating away from his goalie that was just slammed into in his own crease. 

“Let me out.” Sirius barked as he kept his eye on the player - number seven - who dared to touch his goalie. “Come on! Let me out!” 

“Wait your turn, Black.” Coach barked back as the play continued. 

Fenwick raised his glove requesting to switch as Dearborn followed him toward the bench. 

“Alright, Black & Potter, you’re on.”

Sirius had hardly waited for Fenwick to make it to the bench before he was clearing the boards, hearing James’ skates seconds behind him as they moved towards the play.

Sirius hardly spared the puck a second glance as he made it to the other end of the rink, dropped his gloves and launched himself at the fucker who had checked his goalie moments before. 

He had the bastard's jersey tight in his fist as he swung his other into the side of his face. He’d landed one good punch before the Slytherin player clued into what was happening and then it was fair game. 

Sirius could hear the whistle of the referees as other players paired off with one another to keep them from joining the tussle. It was a riot of noise from the crowd as bells and horns sounded and fans banged on the glass lining the boards as Sirius and his opponent focused both on staying upright in their skates and knocking the other over simultaneously. 

Sirius’ helmet fell off with an elbow to his mouth that left his eyes watering, but he quickly had number seven in a headlock as the player fell back, Sirius landing on top of him and landing one more hit before the refs were pulling them off of each other. 

Sirius got two minutes for roughing, but so did number seven, so he felt it was rather worth it as he used one of the gatorade branded towels to clean the blood from his lips in the penalty box. 

His fight seemed to inspire a goal from his team, so he then felt it was very much worth it when the two minutes were up and he left the box to go back to the bench.

“Did ya like my fight, doc?” He asked you breathlessly as if he hadn’t just been sitting in a glorified time-out for the last 120 seconds; his wide, beaming smile only serving to further split his lip as his teeth started to taste like iron.

“For fucks sake, Black.” You muttered as you pulled out an alcohol wipe and dabbed at the cut on his lip; Sirius couldn’t even find it in him to wince at the sting of the alcohol when you were cradling his jaw with your free hand as though you were handling a baby bird; gentle, tentative, loving.

Maybe he was making that last one up, but he felt emboldened by the ghost of a smirk gracing your lips. 

“Always making more work for you, eh doc?” Remus teased from behind you; you rolled your eyes but didn’t bother gracing Remus with an answer as you leaned behind you to grab something.

“Maybe I just wanted you to kiss it better, yeah?” He asked when you turned back towards him. You seemed startled at first; not in a negative way, but rather like you hadn’t expected Sirius Black to be loudly and brazenly flirting with you. You schooled your expression quickly, however, when you narrowed your eyes at him playfully and slapped an ice pack in his glove-free hand.

“Ice it, Black.” You ordered.

“Good idea, gorgeous.” Sirius agreed as he did what was told, turning back towards the game. “Wanna make sure my lips are perfect for our first kiss.”

“Wait, don’t ice it! Some people pay big money for lips like that, Black!” Wood called from further down the bench. 

Sirius pretended to consider it as he squinted his eyes at you, watching as you worked particularly hard to not return his gaze. “No, no. If I ice it now, I’ll be in tip top shape for kissing after the game.” 

“You’re unbelievable.” You muttered as you watched Caradoc nearly toss a Slytherin player onto the Gryffindor bench, your tongue in your cheek as you tried not to smile at Sirius. 

“Thank you!” He accepted readily as the whistle blew - the lines were about to change.

“Try not to get into any more scraps, yeah?” You called to Sirius as he dropped the ice pack into your awaiting hand and lunged over the bench.

“For you, doc?” Sirius volleyed with a cheeky smirk as he skated backwards toward the face off. “Anything.”

[mv1simp]

I love it you last smut with max!!! I would love some more about sucking him off and he film you while he praises you.

Thank you so much💖💖💖💖💖💖

I gotchu anon here u go 🫶🫶

Popular ♥️

Max Verstappen x Enemy Reporter!Reader

money on top of me, money on top of her, yeah, shawty fuck with me ‘cause she know I’m popular

As Sky Sport’s latest F1 reporter, you’re determined to do whatever it takes to stand out amongst the crowd. You’re notorious for your ability to make Mad Max break out of his media trained facade, all your interviews with him going viral. But after his 10th PR debriefing over you, Max has had enough. Next time, it was your turn to be in front of the camera.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, filming, enemies to lovers , blowjobs, size kink, dom! Max and brat!reader 😼, 4k WC

And there you have it folks, another disappointing 2nd place for Redbull’s golden boy for the 3rd race in a row here in Spa, you say into the microphone with a smirk. Let’s go directly to him now, shall we?

Walking over to the post race media room, you make your way to the primary interviewer position, right on the front row, ignoring the jealous stares from other reporters scattered in the rows behind you. You’re chatting to your cameraman, instructing him to make sure he gets your good side, please, I don’t want to be on Channel 3 looking like a rat compared to these model drivers again when the podium winners walk in. Max Verstappen’s ice blue eyes immediately narrow as they lock onto yours, and he has to resist the scowl that threatens to appear on his face. He fucking hated your boss for always sending you - his most aggravating reporter - to make any bad race Max has even worse.

To the left of him, Charles and Lewis shared an amused glance as they watch their fellow pilot shoot daggers at you, who in turn greeted him with a predatory smile that would put a great white shark to shame. You decide to toy with your food a bit, turning your gaze to the other drivers, welcoming them sweetly and asking how they found the race. The many cameras on Max’s face didn’t fail to pick up how the so called flying Dutchman continued to stare at you brazenly as he contemplated your tumultuous history.

It wasn’t that you were a bad reporter. If anything, Max thought you had a knack for matching your questions to the athlete that you interviewed, and spoke in a charismatic and engaging way that had most of the grid happily stop on a race weekend to chat with you. You always made an effort to get genuine stories from the drivers, compared to many other news outlets, and it had been noticed amongst the grid, who preferred you as one of the reporters they engaged with - making you quickly skyrocket in popularity with viewers and establish yourself as a front row media figure. And it certainly helped that you were easy on the eyes, quickly become a familiar sight in well picked classy but flattering outfits to suit the Grand Prix locations.

Max could still remember the first time he saw you - dressed in a long sleeved, full length crimson dress that flattered your shorter figure, with long, dark curls framing your face and full lips as you laughed at something your colleague had said. He’d noticed you immediately in the media room, a pretty figure amongst the usual crowd, even going so far as to ask his PR manager who you were. But for all your charming media skills or cute outfits, you had made an enemy very quickly out of Max Verstappen the moment you opened your glossed lips and asked him how he felt after crashing into Hamilton’s car, yet going onto celebrate 1st on the podium while Lewis had to be taken to hospital.

It was almost a complete personality switch. While the other drivers got your thoughtful questions, Max was repeatedly hit with the most provoking shit from you. It was like you knew exactly what to say to turn him into that seething, infamous Mad Max, brows furrowed and a scowl on his face as he scoffed out replies to your invading questions. To your credit, you were able to elicit a lot more information and honesty from Max than other reports could, despite his angry tone. And while others backed down immediately when the reigning world champion started to get agitated, you would just lock in with a deceivingly innocent smile and escalate your questions.

Social media absolutely loved it, making endless videos of you interviewing Max go viral, countless memes emerging every post race debrief when you would ask some ridiculous question and Max would respond with something equally ridiculous, often resulting in back and forth bickering. It had gotten to the point where Max had had over ten - ten! - interventions with his own PR team who had begged him to please just ignore your provoking statements, just rise above, don’t engage -

Fuck that. Max Verstappen wasn’t a coward that backed down from a fight - but at the same time, he didn’t want to give in and give you what you wanted. He knew your type - just a clout chaser, going after him specifically as he was the fastest driver on the grid and would get you the most views. He was no stranger to being hated on and antagonised after toppling the Mercedes winning streak. His attention draws back to the present as he sees you finally turn to him, tilting your head coyly as you open those deceivingly sweet lips of yours again. That was some incredible driving out there today, Verstappen you say innocently, making Max narrow his eyes again as he didn’t buy it for a second. Incredibly dirty, some may say - judging by the 5 point penalty the stewards gave you. Why do you think you struggle to race wheel to wheel fairly?

Max felt his jaw clench at your provoking accusation. Behind him, his PR manager sighed and already started trying out a draft Instagram thirst trap that would hopefully do some damage control as Max heatedly dismissed your statements, insulting the steward’s decision in the process. This was going to be a long, long afternoon.

Max sighed, rolling out the tension in his neck as he sank down in the VIP area of the Monaco club, sculling his G&T. Beside him, Lando laughed at the sorry sight the current F1 champion had been reduced to after last weekend’s post race debrief had, as usual, gone viral due to a certain crafty reporter who had played the hotheaded Redbull driver like a fiddle. Mate, you let her wind you up too much, Lando said, smirking. It’s just classic journalist clickbait, you’ve dodged shit like that hundreds of times. Why do you keep letting her get inside your head?

Max didn’t respond, choosing to slam down his first glass and pick up a second G&T. Lando leaned in conspiratorially. Don’t tell me you secretly have the hots for her, mate. Is that why you two are always going at it? Too much sexual tension? She’s pretty fit and all, but you could easily get any hotter chick -

This time Max turns to glare at Lando, his furrowed brows clearly telling him to fuck off. Lando throws his hands up in mock defense, Just jokes, just jokes. But hey, speak of the devil and she shall appear. He says, looking behind Max and letting out a low whistle. And damn, the devil didn’t come to play tonight, that dress should be illegal. I get it the appeal now Max-

Rolling his eyes, the older blonde driver finishes his drink and stands up, telling Lando to come find it when he’s done being a prick. Striding off to the opposite end of the club, he doesn’t bother looking in your direction even once. He’d had enough of your annoying presence on the track to be able to deal with it off it.

Across the neon dance floor, you laugh cheerfully with your friends, cheersing to shots together. Tossing your shot glass back, you reach for another, hoping your friends don’t notice the disappointed flicker on your face when you had heard Lando’s laugh from the VIP section, only to look up and see Max’s wide shoulders disappear off into the crowd, no doubt leaving the club as soon as he saw you.

Honestly, you couldn’t blame him, you thought glumly. You weren’t entirely sure just how the dynamics between you too had ended up so rife with tension. You had been so excited to interview the Dutch champion for the first time, spending ages picking out your most flattering outfit and matching gold accessories, and had even picked the perfect question to let him showcase his empathy. You had a soft spot for the driver racing with the MV33 tag growing up as you related to having strict parents yourself. Seeing Max shine at such a young age against much older, experienced competition had been so cool you’d instantly become a fan. So you had asked him about his infamous crash into the reigning champion, Lewis Hamilton, hoping to give him an chance to share his side of the story about how he was forced to continue the race due to team orders - but instead found yourself at the end of a scathing reply from the older athlete.

It’s always the people who have never been behind the wheel of a race car who have the most to say, Max had replied that day, on live TV with a condescending look, I don’t tell you how to be an influencer and you shouldn’t tell me how to be a driver, okay sweetheart?

You had flushed, too embarrassed to even stutter out a reply, and as another reporter mercifully took over you excused yourself from the room. The memory of your first F1 interview still radiated crystal clear in your mind and brought you back to the present as your friends waved their hands in your face to get your attention. Oh yeah, that’s right - that’s why you hated the cocky Dutch driver, you thought darkly, tossing back another shot. And why you’d never do him the service of being a courteous reporter to him ever again.

Vowing to put all thoughts of your biggest annoyance to the back of your mind, you let yourself be dragged onto the dance floor. For the next 3 hours you drink and dance, celebrating the start of the summer break. You slipped away from the group at one point to go to the bathroom. You’re walking back down the dim hallway to the club when a hand reaches out to tap your shoulder, and you turn around to find a guy you’d seen eyeing you up earlier grinning a bit too sleazily at you, introducing himself as Rossi and asking if he can buy you a drink. Politely rejecting him, you turn back around but he grabs your arm this time, spouting some bullshit about playing hard to get, huh, dressed like that?

You scowl, immediately turned off, and forcefully twist his arm around and push him away, telling him very firmly to piss off. He look startled at your reply, and you roll your eyes at his performance before moving away but apparently this asshole just couldn’t take a hint, cause this time he grabs both your shoulders and pushing you into the wall. You’re starting to get a little panicked now, knowing you two are in a quieter hallway and the shots you had taken earlier have caught up and made you weaker -

Then he’s all but thrown off of you, crashing into the opposite wall in a display of pure strength. I’m pretty sure she told you to fuck off, cunt. Keep your hands off of her.

You’d recognize that deep Dutch accent anywhere. Your jaw drops as you look up to see Max Verstappen’s back, dressed in a fitted white tee, now standing in between you and Rossi. Peeking over his broad shoulders on your tip toes, using your small hands to grasp Max’s bicep and steady yourself on your heels, you see Rossi angrily stalk towards Max, opening his mouth - then close it as he realises he’s much shorter and this was a dumb idea. Max smirks as he watches the other man sulkily storm away. He turns around, an almost gentle look on his face as he asks you okay, schat? Are you hurt?

You stare up at him, a little dazed by how handsome Max looks in this lighting and how hot it had been seeing Max protect you. The driver’s gaze turns to your hand, where your pink manicured nails are still holding onto his large bicep. Flushing, you move your hand and stutter out an affirmation that you’re fine, don’t worry, thanks so much -

Max hmms in response, pulling back from your space and immediately making you miss his warmth. You shouldn’t wander away from your friends all alone, he says, It’s not safe. Especially for someone your size.

His steely blue eyes are raking up and down your petite form, sending butterflies swirling but you’re also annoyed at his condescending tone. I had it handled, you say defensively, crossing your arms and looking away, missing how Max’s gaze flickers to your tits which are now pushed up.

Yeah, I’m sure you had it handled, he snorts. What were you going to do, throw one of your heels at him? Seriously, you need to be able to protect yourself better if you’re going to go out looking like this.

He pointedly glances at the glittery mini dress you had on, with a sweetheart halter neckline, ending mid thigh with matching lace up strappy heels. A perfect club outfit, the gold matching your tanned skin, and brought to you by Versace.

What the fuck, Verstappen you hiss, seething as he immediately ruins the two seconds of tranquility you two had shared. Why do you always have to be so goddamn misogynistic? Blaming the woman’s choice of outfit? Seriously? You’re no better than that creep Rossi!

Your voice starts to rise as you glare up at him defiantly. Suddenly, loud voices make you both look down the corridor as some clubgoers start approaching. Not done with your argument but not wanting another PR fiasco all over Page 6 tomorrow, Max grabs your waist and pulls you into one of the staircases leading upstairs.

You end up on a private, dark balcony overlooking the quiet Monaco marina. The club’s bass vibrates through the walls against where a small sofa rests with an ashtray nearby, designating it as an intimate smoking area.

Max slams the door behind you two, locking it for good measure as you whirl back around, still keyed up. You’re comparing me to that piece of shit? Seriously? Max scoffs, rolling his eyes and resuming your argument. Let me guess, tomorrow morning you’ll conveniently have a new headline about how I hate women and I’m a misognistic pig, blah blah blah.

You glare at his dismissal, stepping closer to back him up into the door behind him. Well, aren’t you Verstappen? What do you expect me to wear, sweatpants? It’s a fucking club, everyone dresses like this! The first time I ever interviewed you, you literally thought I was some random makeup obsessed influencer when I’m an Oxford educated journalist!

I know that now! Max snaps. You just asked me about the one thing I didn’t want to talk about and I got mad. I didn’t realize you were going to bite my head off every interview after that and just use me to to blow up online!

You pause, then begrudgingly mutter that you supposed you’d dragged out the grudge a touch longer than necessary. It was the Leo in you, after all. But Max wasn’t done - Fuck, all I meant was you look good tonight and a lot of guys have been checking you out, so just watch out, okay?

Your eyes widen at the unexpected compliment, as althought you had always found him attractive, you’d never thought Max found you to be. Oh, you say, unable to hold back the blush in your face. Thank you. I owe you one, I guess.

You realize in the heat of the moment you had pushed right up against him, your soft chest up against his toned abs - giving him the perfect view as you calmed down from your heaving breaths. Max’s eyes darkened as you glanced from your chest up to his eyes, realising the compromising position as well and biting your lip.

Well, you could start by apologising to me, he says with a smirk as he pushes off the door, making you stumble back towards the sofa. That’s bullshit, Verstappen. I already said thank you. If you’re just gonna be a dick again I’m leaving, you respond automatically, but you let him continue to gently guide you back.

We both know you could have left anytime you wanted, schatje, Max breathes, bending down to your level as you come to a stop in front of the sofa, his lips grazing your ear and making your pussy throb from how goddamn sexy he sounded. Fuck, you were down bad. He grins cockily, not missing how you gasped sweetly and squeezed your plush thighs together at his words. Your gazes meet heatedly, and he finally ends the agonising tension by tilting your head up and joining your lips in a deep kiss.

You moan into it, his tongue swiping across yours skilfully and sending sparks shooting down to your pussy which was getting wetter by the second. Max pulls back, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your glossed lips. Why don’t you be a good girl for once and apologise to me nicely, yeah?

You refuse to budge. I’m not saying shit, Verstappen you say brattily. Just try and make me. Max smirks as you seal your fate. Let’s put that filthy mouth of yours to good use for once, he commands, and next thing his strong hand is pushing you down to your knees, making you come face to face with a very sizeable bulge. You gasp, looking up at him as he unbuckles himself, the clink of his belt buckle audible even over the thumping bass. His thick, veiny cock bounces out and lands across your pouting face with a smack. He grins as your eyes go wide at his size, jaw dropped as you begin to salivate at the sight. You’d definitely has one (or two) wet dreams like this - not that you would ever admit it to him.

God, you’re such a fucking slut, practically drooling for it already, huh? He teases condescendingly. You moan when he smacks your chubby cheeks with his warm length. I’m not, you whine, Stop being such a bully-mmmfhh!

He shuts up your pathetic whinging by nestling his tip against your pretty pink lips. Go on then, he mocks. You owe me one, right? Help me relax after all the stress you caused me last weekend.

You huff, still glaring at him through your dark lashes but obediently swipe a kitten lick across his leaking cockhead. Mmm, he tasted so good, you could easily see yourself become addicted. You move down his shaft, leaving teasing, gentle kisses and lipgloss marks along his length. He clenches his jaw at your deliberate teasing, telling you to quit it, but you just smirk and suckle on the very end, moving your tongue in circles to overstimulate his sensitive tip. Max moans, his hips bucking forward involuntarily but he quickly regains control and tangles a strong hand through your curls, dragging you forward to nestle in between his wide legs as he settles back comfortably on the sofa. I need to teach you some goddamn manners, huh?

You squeal from the rough treatment, your hands automatically grabbing to those thick thighs of his, opening your mouth in protest but you don’t get a chance to as he slams your plush lips down onto his length, burying himself in one go. Oh, fuck yeah, he moans, even better than I imagined, liefje. You whine and splutter, struggling to breathe at the unexpected intrusion and tap at his legs but he hold you down, blissfully enjoying your tight throat enveloping his cock. You can take it, right baby? Gonna be a good girl for me and keep my dick warm?

His condescending words should be making you angrier but instead you find yourself moaning against him, finding his dominating nature sooo hot. Tightening his hold, he now controls the pace as he jackhammers away happily, without a single care for your muffled squeals. You feel yourself melting at each thrust, looking up at him with starry glazed eyes. He smirks at the sexy sight, using his other hand to fish out his phone and hit record, blinding you temporarily with the flash.

Fucked the brat right out of ya, huh? He teases arrogantly, the camera picking up all the dirty, wet noises you’re making as you deepthroat him. Go on, time to go viral, tell everyone how much you wanted this. You look so much better in front of the camera and not behind it.

He yanks you off his length for a minute, letting you gasp and greedily suck in air as you give in completely to his demands. I do! I do want it, so bad Maxie, you whine. He tuts, slapping your lips with his thick length again and leaving streaks of pre cum all over your face. You can do better than that, sweetheart, you normally have such a way with words.

You whine at his ministrations, instinctively chasing after his tip when he withdraws it, making him chuckle at how cockdrunk he had made you. P-please Maxie, I’m sorry, so sorry for being a bitch, please let me suck you off and make it up to you, please-

Oh, he could get used to the sound of you begging and sweetly moaning his first name very, very easily. Ending your torment, he glides back through your eager lips at an angle, poking through your cheek. He zooms in to capture the filthy sight - tears that drip down your face, messily smudging your mascara and mixing with the trails of precum on your cheeks. Imagine if your boss saw this, huh? Shall I send him a dirty film? He’d lose his goddamn mind seeing his favourite reporter on her knees begging for a dirty driver’s cock.

You bob your head frantically, moaning as your eyes roll back from the intensity of it all. Your lacy panties are glued to your pussy with how wet you are. You’re taking me so well, schat, he pants, cursing, Fuck, it’s like you were made for me. If I’d known you were s’good at suckin me off I’d have you doin’ this after every race. Throwing his head back, he pushes you all the way down, your nose buried into his sweaty abs as he finishes, releasing thick ropes of cum down your eagerly awaiting throat. He holds you there as he roughly orders you to take it all for him, that’s right, just like that. He slides out of you with a wet sound. Open that gorgeous mouth for me, baby.

You obediently drop your lips wide open, tongue poking out so the camera can capture that you’ve swallowed every drop, just like he asked. Satisfied, Max tosses his phone to the side and easily lifts you up with his strong arms to straddle his lap. You immediately grind your desperate pussy against him, hands tangling in his hair as you sloppily make out. His large fingers grip your glittery minidress as he pulls back to grin down at you. Wear this outfit again, he says huskily. In fact, wear whatever you want, anytime. I can fight.

You laugh at his sweetness, heart fluttering at the thought of always having Max by your side to protect you. You know I’m never going to stop annoying you on the paddock, right? You threaten, although you’re smiling. It makes for great content. My boss would never forgive me.

Wouldn’t have it any other way, darling. We have a reputation to maintain, Max replies easily, grinning back at you as he pulls you back in. After all, you two had a lot of apologies to make up for and had found the perfect way to say sorry 💖

—————————————————————————

A/N: so I can never just write a short lil quick fic it always has to be an essay apparently?!? Anyways GLAD YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS THEME EHEHEHE I LOVED WRITING THIS SEND IN MKRE REQUESTS!! 🫶🫶🫶

[messylustt]

pervy ethan smut pleaseeeee

this slowly started to become longer than i planned. i couldn't stop writing

floral panties — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : you leave a trap for your pantie stealing fellow student

contents : perv ethan, pantie stealing, use of conditioner as lube, subby ethan, ethan's obsessed, use of 'dirty boy' as like a pet name ig, overstimulation, no actual p in v. wc 2.4k

Ethan didn’t know when it started but he found himself stealing your clothes. More specifically your panties.

You lived in the same dorm building, so every time you left your clothes by the communal washing machines, ethan couldn’t help but pocket some of your different coloured panties. He now had some lacy, some normal, and some with cute patterns.

It was shameful but Ethan grew addicted to wrapping them around his cock as he jerked himself off, muttering your name under his breath. He couldn’t jerk off normally anymore, he always had to have something of yours touching him.

Then one night, when you left the laundry, ethan spotted a left behind conditioner bottle, the one that made your hair smell like cherries. Without thinking he grabbed it, walked to his dorm, locked the door to his room, and began to use your conditioner as lube.

He stroked himself, the cherry scent making his eyes roll. He could imagine you on your knees in front of him. The cherry coming from your hair as you languidly stroked his cock. He orgasmed embarrassingly quickly at the new found fantasy.

Every time he saw you in the hallways of Blackmore, or in the dorm building, your cherry scent made his cheeks pinken.

The surprising thing was that you’d never actually met. You’d briefly acknowledged each other as a passing person, but no long conversations or a blooming friendship.

Ethan just always watched from afar, growing hotter when he’d catch your skirt hiking up in your seat. He remembers a pathetic moment when you had unintentionally been distracting him all class, and for some relief he palmed himself under the table.

You had reduced him to a horny teenager wanting to bust a nut the moment he sees you show a sliver of skin.

What Ethan didn’t realise was that you had noticed your gradually missing panties, and that one bottle of conditioner. You had always felt someones eyes on you whenever you would bend down to retrieve a pen you dropped.

You soon quickly linked up the eyes and stolen items to Ethan Landry. The boy who lived in your dorm building and took random classes with you. At first glance you’d say he appeared shy, at second you’d think he was kinda cute, and at third you’d finally notice the lust swirling in his eyes.

One night, when you were walking towards a washing machine, prepared with a basket, you heard distant steps far but close. You paused, quickly realising that it would be the brown haired boy.

You decided to leave a trap, just to see if he really was the one who brazenly stole your items. You placed your basket full of a mix of shirts, pants, skirts, and panties. You made sure to leave a pair at the top as you pretended to walk to the other exit of the room.

You hide behind a washing machine, watching as Ethan walked in. He didn’t have a basket full of clothes, so there was no need for him to be there, unless he liked to steal.

Ethan spots the new pair of lacy black panties on your pile of clothes. He edges closer, sparing a fleeting glance around before he grabs them, breathing heavy.

He goes to pocket them when he hears your melodious voice. Whipping his head up, his eyes widen as he watches you walk out from your hiding spot a raise to your brows.

“What are you going to do with those?” You ask, as you step closer.

Ethan is frozen, gulping down his want to hide. You’d caught him. He hadn’t thought this far. He’d thought he could get away with it. “Uh.” He stupidly splutters, not knowing what he can say. It was pretty obvious what he was going to do with them.

You edge closer as Ethan watches your every move. He notices the low cut singlet your wearing, and your sweatpants that hang low on your hips. A huge chunk of your stomach is on full display and Ethan’s eyes begin to feel heavy. Through his distracted state he hadn’t realised that you’d moved much closer.

You're inches from his face. He sucks in a breath when he caught your gaze. “Can I have them back?” You quietly ask. Ethan processes your words for a moment then realises that your talking about your panties. His fist had clenched around them. “Ethan?”

He chokes on air at the fact that you knew his name. You grab his wrist, taking the panties out, and throwing them into your basket. Ethan expected your expression to be mad, but he's confused and slightly intruiged at the fact that your just staring at him, your own intruige displayed across your features.

You were still extremely close and Ethan's mind quickly became a haze, becuase your hair smelt extra strong today. "I'm sorry." He manages to mutter out. He quickly looks away, embarassment filling him to the brim. But then you grab his chin, pulling his head back to face you.

He gulps. Feeling your fingers touching his face has added a new level of need that's making his stomach tighten. He can't look away from you, especially as a little smile forms on your lips. "Do you like me or something?" You ask, tilting your head in inspection of him.

"Uh..."

"You can be honest." Your voice is sickly sweet. It makes Ethan subconsiously step closer to you. Your chests are almost touching. Ethan licks his lips before answering in a small voice. "Yes. Yeah— I...do."

Your smile begins to widen. "Why didn't you talk to me?" Your tone is still soft and light, making a strain form in Ethan's pants.

Ethan refrains from grabbing you, lust weighing him heavy. "I don't know."

You leaned closer to whisper. "Because if you asked me out I probably would have said yes."

Ethan's eyes widen as you lean back. "You would?"

"I would have." You corrected. "But since your the thief, I don't know if I'd want to anymore." You were teasing him, because you quickly grew to like the desperate look he's displaying.

Ethan swiftly steps closer, your chests finally touching. Ethan shakes his head. "I'll give them all back. I won't steal again. I promise. I won't—" Ethan is rambling, as his chest heaves. God, he didn't want his one mistake in not having you to be his dirty actions and fantasies.

You chuckle at his almost pleading tone. You place your hand on his chest. "Stealing my panties?" You pretend to look annoyed. "That's extremely dirty."

Ethan is cursing himself for every time he used your panties to jerk off. "I didn't—“ Ethan is breathing hard. "I didn't mean to."

"Yes you did." You say, keeping him at a slight distance, with your hand on his chest. Even your small touches is making his cock throb.

"It was wrong, I just..."

"Just what?" A small smirk had edged your lips.

Ethan stares at your lips, wishing he could taste them. "I just wanted to feel some part of you." His tone his heavy and breathless.

"And you thought my panties would be the closest you could get?" You guess. "What about the conditioner?"

Ethan gulps. "I like how your hair smells." He whispers shamefully.

"My hair?" You begin to "absentmindedly" drag your finger along his chest. Ethan nearly shudders against your touch. It was only over the shirt, he shouldn't be freaking out so much. You began to egde closer, your breath hitting his face.

Ethan is biting his lip, stopping himself from just grabbing some part of you.

You drag your hand down his stomach until you stopped just above his bulge. "You're extremely dirty." You whispered. And Ethan's mouth had begun to open in a pant.

"Look at you. Turned on by...what?" You ask, running your finger down his thigh. "The smell of my hair?" Your nails sent a shiver down his spine. "Or was it the thrill of stealing another pair of my panties?"

You then lightly ghost the tip of your finger over his hard on. Tantilizingly light. Ethan's hips pathetically jolt, wishing you would touch him. Wishing he could touch you. "Is that what's got you hard?"

You meet his gaze. Ethan is breathing heavy, as a small snarl had egded his lips. He was beyond desperate, teased almost to the limit.

You then suddenly step back, making Ethan quickly whip his head to your leaving form. "Nice to properally meet you, Ethan."

He reached his limit. Ethan didn't have control over his body, as he grabbed you, yanking you back to him. Even though you were expecting this you still gasped at how swift the motion was.

Ethan grabbed your jaw, his breath hitting your lips. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He groaned as his cock pressed against your body. He turned you, so that your hips hit against a low washing machine. And he's smashing his lips against yours. He can't help but begin to grind into you as he laps at your tongue, whining into your mouth. "Holy fuck." He whimpers, finally tasting you.

Your mouth is opening, your own arousel, making your press your thighs together.

"No, no." Ethan hisses, grabbing one of your thighs as he sharply pulls them apart. He pressed his bulge against your pussy, making you gasp a moan. His mouth hangs open. "Oh, fuck—"

Ethan kisses you, hard. You were addicting. Not one of his fantasies could prepare him for this—for you. "Ethan—" You choke out as he continues to grind.

"You can't just tease me like that, and think you can leave." Ethan says, darting his tongue out to lick your jaw. "No..." Ethan breaths over your lips, his eyes hooded with lust. "I've wanted to touch you for so long." He moans.

You had begun to grind your own hips into him, the situation feeling extremely erotic. But you wanted some of that control back. You lead your hand down to pants, unbuttoning him and pulling his throbbing cock out. Ethan's hips stutter, his head hitting your shoulder.

You brought his head away, so that he can see you, as you spit straight onto his cock. Ethan jolts, his mouth opening in a whine at the action and visual.

You begin to stroke him, pulling your hand up and down appropriately. Ethan thrusted into your hand, whimpering into your neck. His tongue had darted out to lick your skin as he would occasionally bite when a shock of pleasure would shoot through him. "Oh, fuck— oh, god, y/n—" He whimpers and moans as he soon draws near.

"Such a dirty boy." You whisper into his ear. His hips shudder as he orgasms, his body jutting into you. The pleasure wrecks him, but as it ebbs away you don't slow your strokes.

Y-y/n." Ethan stutters, gripping the washing machine behind you. "I-it hurts, please."

"But Ethan..." you began as he whined, your strokes languidly going up and down. "You stole from me. Multiple times. I can't just reward you for that."

Ethan's mouth has opened against your skin as his fingers dig into the washing machine. "P-please. Oh, god, please—"

"You really want me to stop?" You ask. He just whimpers in response. "Aright." You bring your hand away, and Ethan is quick to grab your wrist.

"No, no, please don't stop. I'll do anything. Just please don't." Ethan begs as he brings your hand back to his cock. His hips jolt when you wrap your palm around him, and begin to stroke him again.

"Anything?" You tease.

"F-fuck— anything. Anything you want." Ethan hovers over your lips, as he draws close to his second orgasm. He kisses you, eating at your tongue and lips as his hips shudder in pleasure, his release spilling. "Shit." He moans in your mouth.

You slowly bring your hand away as you peck his cheek. He's flushed, hands still caging you in. You felt a rush whenever you would tease him, loving his desperate pleas.

"You said you'd do anything." You say. Ethan nods, meeting your gaze. A small smile had edged his lips. You looked so pretty this close.

"Then can you step away?"

Ethan's brows furrow. "Why?"

"You said anything."

Ethan grinds his teeth, but slowly steps back. You straighten your singlet, as you take a breath. You met Ethan's awaiting gaze. He seemed suspicious, beacuse you'd denied him before—trying to go. He didn't want you to, not now. "Don't you dare try and leave." Ethan says.

"Alright, then you can go." You say, licking your bottom lip.

Ethan begins to step closer. You place your hand out as you step away from the washing machine. "I said to step back." You try to sound firm but your tone is heavy with lust.

Ethan tilts his head as he nears you. You continue to back up, wanting to keep the control. But Ethan wasn't letting you get away when he hadn't even touched you yet.

He corners you into the wall making you curse. Ethan held eye contact, as his hand dragged to your thigh, he pulled you apart as his finger began to rub you through your sweatpants. You gulp, grabbing one of his shoulders. "You don't really deserve to touch me. Not after you—"

"After I used your panties to jerk off?" Ethan asked, quickening his pace. "After I used your cherry conditioner as lube?" He dipped his hand into your pants, bypassing your panties to get to your soaking pussy. You slightly shudder as he began to swirl his fingers around. "After I had to palm myself in class because you looked so pretty with your red lipstick and short skirt?"

A moan escaed you at the mix of his words and the work of his fingers. "Huh?" Ethan asks, kissing you slowly.

He pushes two fingers in straight away, making your mouth fall open. "I don't deserve to touch you. But that certainly doesn't I mean I won't." He begans to thrust in and out of you, hitting your g-spot, once he got a good angle.

You manage to grab his hair, making him look at your face. "You're still a perv." You say breathlessly.

Ethan nods, a grin forming. "I know."

Your head hits back as pleasure wracks your body. Ethan groans at the visual, his hands never wanting to leave you. He pulls your head back as he speaks to the skin of your cheek. "Now instead of your panties I can use this to jerk off to." He thrusts higher into you.

You moan, breathing turning erratic. "Oh, fuck." He kisses you hard, before whispering to your lips, grinning. "You smell lovely."

Then he pushes his head into the crook of your neck by your ear, smelling the lovely cherry.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[zhaobear]

28 (teaser)

It takes you 28 weeks to leave Kim Gyuvin, but only 28 days to run right back.

PAIRING : kim gyuvin x fem reader

GENRES : fluff, crack, eventual angst, with a happy ending, enemies to lovers au, strangers to lovers au, rich girl au, bakery au, falling in love in france!!

WORD COUNT : 1209 (teaser), estimated to be 20k

SUMMARY : when you pack your bags and move to france on a whim, you don’t expect just how many challenges you’ll meet — whether it’s your difficulty in adjusting to the new country, the harsh truths of the fashion industry, or most infuriatingly, pastry chef kim gyuvin, whose immense talent doesn’t stop you from deeming him the bane of your existence. despite yourself, his shop soon becomes more of a home than you’d like to admit, as gyuvin’s delicious creations and honest words slowly worm their way into your heart and show you that affection is more than just a monetary transaction.

WARNINGS : profanity, might be suggestive, red hair gyuvin x blue hair mc, mc wants to go to fashion school and gyuvin owns a pâtisserie (both are 20), mc is a bad bitch but sometimes superficial/spoiled but!! has char development, gyuvin shows love by being a little shit, i apologize for the banner graphic design is not my passion

AUTHOR'S NOTE : happy gyuvin day!! i wanted to finish this whole fic for his bday but i'm not quite there yet so take this teaser <3 if anyone wants to be tagged for this lmk and i'll start a taglist! i'm super excited to finish this fic even though gyuvin already got rid of his red hair......i will pretend it's still there

"NOT TO BE RUDE OR ANYTHING, BUT COULD YOU MOVE THE CRYING SOMEWHERE ELSE? YOU'RE AFFECTING BUSINESS." 

Your mouth falls open. Out of all of the words you expected to hear from the employee with the red hair, these weren't at all what you imagined.

The sheer nerve of a stranger — you can’t help but fume. Your status has led you to experience all sorts of men,  most commonly the kind that fall to your feet at first sight, begging you for a mere minute of your time. You’ve unfortunately experienced their rotten sides too, particularly the petty insults and misogyny that come with your industry. You’ve also experienced the raging anger when they realize you take too much pride in yourself to become their dolls. 

But to be insulted so brazenly on the first meeting, given your name, your reputation — men do not dare. 

“Well, excuse me for choosing your store to have a mental breakdown under. I couldn’t exactly—”

“Excused.”

“What?” You seethe, your face growing hotter by the second. 

“You’re excused,” the boy repeats simply, before turning back to the door. “If you want to sit inside, you’re welcome. Please just don’t cry outside of my shop,” he calls over his shoulder. 

The door closes behind him before you can even say anything back. You’re frozen in place, shocked by the pure shamelessness of the boy. Surely no manager would let their employee act this way? You’ve never been much of a Karen, but you’re tempted to find out. 

Finally, you look inside the store, peering through the glass door. Despite yourself, you’re pleasantly surprised upon the realization that you’ve stopped under a pâtisserie. Although none of the French bakeries have made any lasting impact on you, the decent crowd inside the shop has to amount to something. 

A variety of pastries are neatly lined on the glass shelves, clearly crafted with great care and intricacy. Almost all of them are unfamiliar, but your mouth waters anyway. You didn’t even know it was possible to crave something you’ve never had. 

You observe a flash of red hair saunter behind a door at the back, and all your cravings disappear. That bitch. You’d rather die than sit inside the shop and let him win, but you cajole yourself with the thought of making a complaint as soon as you find the right person. 

You push the door open, greeted by the bell that chimes overhead. 

Warmth. 

That’s your first impression of the store, and it’s not just the significant temperature difference. Something about the aura of the shop itself, the quiet but contented chatter of customers and the soft music spilling through the overhead speakers — you hate to admit it but it gives you a sense of comfort you were missing in the past three days. 

You shake your head. Pull yourself together. 

You storm past the line of customers, immediately met with their indignant shouts and protests, and stop in front of the young boy manning the register. His eyes widen, flitting back and forth between you and the customer he was helping. 

“Miss, I—I’m sorry but you can’t just cut in line like that…” he trails off nervously. His expression makes you think of a nervous rabbit, cornered by prey twice his size with nowhere to go. Twitchy nose and all. It’s kind of cute, and a part of you feels bad. You know he didn’t do anything wrong, but maybe the intimidation will get him to help you faster. 

“I need to speak to your manager.”

The boy balks, clearly unsure how to respond. He covers his confusion with a small smile. 

“I’m sure whatever it is, I can assist you. Can I ask what the problem is?”

“Look, I appreciate you trying to help, but the best thing you can do for me is just get me the manager,” you huff. “Please,” you tack on awkwardly, feeling worse at the small flash of hurt in his eyes. The boy nods and leaves, disappearing behind the door at the back of the store. 

You tap your foot impatiently, ignoring the string of curses the customers in line direct at you. Already irritated with the amount of time they’re taking, you consider leaving, about to turn around until the door finally swings open. 

However, you’re not prepared for the man who emerges from the back. You gape at the sight of the red-haired boy, who raises an eyebrow at the sight of you, giving you an infuriating once-over. 

“Is something the matter?” He asks coolly, like he didn’t insult you mere minutes ago. Like you’re just a regular disruption and not — not you. The heir to one of the most widespread fashion companies in the world. The girl with everything. 

“I asked for the manager,” you hiss. But the boy’s face only brightens at the word, a casual grin spreading across his face. 

“Looks like you’ve found who you’re looking for,” he replies, raising his hands. “Manager by day, chef by night. What can I do for you?” 

Your hand clenches into a fist against your will, the need to punch the cheeky smirk off his face overpowering you. You hold yourself back, instead matching his attitude with a sickly sweet smile of your own. 

“I thought most managers were aware of basic customer service. But I suppose I expected too much from a hole-in-the-wall place like this,” you simper, watching his face turn the same shade as his hair.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” the man splutters. “I—I have five star reviews on Google!”

You try not to snicker at how quickly you’ve caught him off guard, schooling your expression into something that you hope is cool and unconcerned. “Well then, I’m sure Google would love to hear my thoughts instead. No use being here if I can just put a few dents in those five stars, right?” You shrug noncommittally and turn around. 

“Hold on,” the boy says, a hint of desperation in his voice. You face him, trying to smother the smug smile threatening to overtake your features. “Would a free pastry help?”

“Hm,” you feign contemplation. “I don’t know. None of the pastries in Paris have been particularly outstanding to me yet.” 

“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be a problem here,” he answers, smiling. The smile looks genuine enough, but you notice it doesn’t reach his eyes. His gaze is stuck on you — calculating, wary, like he’s still trying to make sense of you. “Yujin-ah!” He calls out without taking his eyes off you. The boy from earlier emerges behind him, refusing to look at you.

“Yeah?” He glances at the redhead with a lingering hint of that bunny-like anxiousness. 

“Get her a kouign amann on the house for me, please.” He finally breaks eye contact with you to look at the smaller boy with a gentle smile that you can tell is reserved for him. Yujin nods, hurrying to grab the pastry. 

“If it’s not to your liking, you can mention me personally in the review. The name’s Kim Gyuvin,” the redhead says, giving you a maddening wink before walking away. You splutter at him indignantly, but to deaf ears as he vanishes behind the back door.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Hello, thank you for writing the imagine, I loved it so much, I came to torment you again and ask if you could write another one? *3* Hannigram x reader, some hilarious situation where they get jealous but the reader doesn't notice lol which ends up resulting in a smut hihi

Hey again!! ❤️ not a torment at all, thanks for requesting once more!! Im soooo excited for this i havent written much jealousy for them!!!!

———

After the final guest of Hannibal’s dinner party had finally left, you felt like you could breathe once again. It had been a long night of both entertaining and running around to make sure things went smoothly.

Your heels came off first, and you groaned with relief. You had been so wrapped up with everything that you hadn’t noticed Will or Hannibal brooding for the last hour.

What caused their ill humor was a burning jealousy, but not one you had consciously caused. Instead, Dr. Chilton was to blame.

My, you two, I did not think you would show off your conquest so… brazenly. But I cannot say I blame you. That sort of beauty is best admired up close, don’t you think?

And lo and behold, they had seen him introducing himself to you later on. They couldn’t hear your conversation, but they still noticed his efforts to make you laugh. Still, they didn’t want to cause a scene.

On your end of things, Frederick had been charming but respectful, just another one of Hannibal and Will’s acquaintances that you didn’t think much of. You were unaware of just how much he liked getting a rise out of your partners, simply because it amused him.

You found them in the kitchen, Hannibal putting away wine glasses while Will leaned against the counter nursing glass of scotch. You approached him with a tired but content smile, intent on undoing his tie for him.

He observed you quietly for a moment, a muscle in his jaw still twitching with leftover tension.

“Long night, I know,” you said, misreading his expression. “My social battery’s completely drained, too.”

“Some people were enjoying themselves perhaps too much,” Hannibal said. “You stirred much interest.”

“Me?” You said, confused. “Well, I was trying to be a good hostess.”

“A very beautiful one, at that,” Will added.

You blushed a little, grinning. “I did get some compliments here and there.”

He made a hmph sound and in the next moment, he drew you in for a kiss. You chuckled softly, now understanding the possessiveness of his action.

Hannibal set down the glasses and approached as well. Without breaking the kiss with Will, you reached back for him.

But instead of letting you bring him closer, he kneeled behind you.

“What’s gotten into you!?” You gasped as Hannibal yanked down your panties, hiking up your dress.

“I have to have you,” he rasped. “I need your taste.”

He was usually the less frantic of the two, but it seemed his composure had been thrown out the window. To see him like that ignited something deep in your core.

Will grasped your chin and brought your lips back to his. You moaned into his mouth at the first swipe of Hannibal’s tongue.

Jealousy always led to their passionate reclaiming of you, and you were already aware that you had a long, long night ahead of you. Perhaps you would have to find ways to make it happen more often.

——

[jam3sacaster]

Earned It.

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / Concerned with Declan’s affinity to work, you drop him a visit at the office…

18+ FANFIC / Implied smut! Reader character aged at 21. Short Work. Hope you enjoy guys! 🩷

Song Inspo: Earned It by The Weeknd.

The bronze ram statue of Corinium twinkled brazenly under the moonlight — the personification of Tony Baddingham scowling at anybody that dared enter the building. Sauntering to the front desk, you are greeted by a haughty, sharp-nosed lady, wrapped tightly in a cashmere cardigan and with a honed, greying bob. She glared at you, a bitter, disdainful look in her eyes. “I’m here to see Declan O’Hara.” You beamed, flashing her your most friendly, yet faux, smile. Her beady eyes surveyed you — tight waves of golden hair, overly glamorous makeup and wearing only a long, beige Burberry trench coat, calves bare, with black stilettos. “He’s busy.” She tutted reprovingly, but buzzed through to him. “Mr O’Hara, there’s a… not quite a lady here to see you.” Her smirk was maliciously complacent as she spoke. “What tha’ fuck? Don’t…” Declan’s tinny voice blared over the receiver, but was promptly cut off by the woman again. “Go through.”

Silently swearing under your breath, the paprika-orange corridors of Corinium were deathly quiet, with the exception of your stilettos clicking against the laminate flooring. Pushing over the door of his office, Declan was buried intensively into a mountain of paperwork, his brow furrowed harshly and his mouth fixed firmly around his pipe. “Good evening, Mr O’Hara.” You pronounced elegantly, locking the door behind you and striding over to his desk. It took a few moments for him to glance upwards — but boy, was he glad he did. The drifting aroma of Coco Chanel filled his nostrils, and sent his rhythmic heartbeat into overdrive.

Your supple red lips were painted crimson, and your twinkling eyes winked at him suggestively. “What a strange outfit. Where have ya’ been?” Declan questioned, utterly confused by your trench coat and silkily shaved legs. “Nowhere. Home, then here.” You replied, pulling his reading glasses from the bridge of his nose and setting them onto the table. “I’m sorry I’ve been here so much, I’ve just got…” He began, excuses falling from his mouth profusely. You raised your hand to silence him, shushing softly. Without speaking, you untied the coat, allowing it to fall to your ankles and revealing something Declan could only describe as heavenly. 

A set of intricately laced red lingerie — bra, pants, red stockings held up with a scarlet suspender belt — framing your voluptuous figure perfectly. Declan’s jaw couldn’t physically hang any lower to the floor. “What the…” He muttered breathlessly, any form of coherence escaping him. “What’s this about?” He asked, rising from his chair and setting his pipe down. There wasn’t a single atom of your body that he didn’t want to either eat or fuck, his words shortly after. “Well, I’ve barely been able to say hello to you in the mornings recently before you’ve rushed off here. So, I thought I’d bring home to you instead.” You smirk, incredibly smug & turned on as you noticed his ravenous glare.

Intent on teasing him as fervently as you could, you rifled through his stationary organiser, only ceasing when you withheld the biggest ruler you could find. “Now, I think I’ve been really, really bad by turning up here. So I think I need punishing.” You muttered, bending yourself across your desk and handing him the ruler. It was always difficult to tell which mindset Declan would be in, but you were confident that you weren’t leaving anytime soon when that devilish smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“On that lonely night, said it wouldn’t be love but we fell in rush. It made us believe it was only us.” - Earned It.

[mochie85]

Truth Or Dare

These Wicked Games Collection Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: The first contact you and Loki had made in weeks, since the falling out that fateful morning. A game of Truth or Dare makes you both confront your feelings. Suggested Song: "Do I Wanna Know" by The Arctic Monkeys Word Count: 2.9K Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: Smut adjacent/Mature, a game of truth or dare, a kiss between Reader and Steve Rogers. 😏

Pent-up days bled into lonely nights. You retreated into your room, save for mission briefings and assignments that Fury would send you too.

Your interactions with Loki had been civil. Not a word was spoken between you two that didn’t involve other people or the task at hand. And when you found yourself in each other’s company, alone, you would just leave the room.

What you didn’t see were the glances and the stares in your direction. Not Loki’s, but the team’s.

“They must’ve fucked,” Bucky whispered.

“Absolutely, they did,” Natasha confirmed.

“How do you know?” Steve asked. “You can’t know that.” The three of them were watching through the glass wall of the conference room. You were showing the new recruit, Wanda, around the common areas and Loki was watching you through side glances and narrowed eyes.

“Do you remember how he acted during poker night?” Bucky asked.

“Ya, he was a real piece of work. I thought we were gonna have to call HR or something the way he was coming on to her,” Steve spurned.

“Ya, and now…that stopped. He got over his infatuation.” Bucky observed.

“Or he wasn’t enough to satisfy her.” Natasha counteroffered. Both men looked at her quizzically. “I mean come on. Not once had she looked in his direction. She’s over him. But he hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off her!” Natasha said proudly of you. Neither Steve nor Bucky could argue with her assessment.

You had just walked into your room when a loud knock came on your door. “Come in” you yelled across your apartment.

“Hey,” Nat said, walking in and sitting on your duvet. She eyed you up and down looking at your blouse and pencil skirt. “Did you just have a meeting?”

“Ya, with Fury.” You said, mid unbutton.

“Don’t get undressed yet. The rest of the team is on a mission again tonight. So, we thought we’d have a little movie night to welcome Wanda.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I think she would love that. I’m down,” you said excitedly.

“Great! Same crew as poker night.” Nat said getting up to leave.

“On second thought…”

“What?! What is it?” Nat asked running through a list of possible scenarios and conclusions in her head. “Oh my God, is it because of Laufeyson?”

“WHAT?! No! Why would you say that? Pfft…of course not!” You laughed. “Laufeyson? Why would I care? I don’t- I don’t care,” you prattled.

“You guys slept together, didn’t you?” She smirked, wanting confirmation of her earlier theory. You stayed quiet. Just staring at her, not knowing how to answer her question. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of it. It was just that it ended on a very sour note. “Your face says it all. Tell me everything!”

You sat there, telling her about the amazing night you had weeks ago. How you brazenly went to his room that night of the poker game and had your own game. But then you also told her about the following morning and how neither of you have really talked about it since.

“You like him, don’t you?” she asked with a Cheshire grin. “You really like him!” You groaned and flopped yourself on the bed, hiding underneath your pillows. “I honestly don’t see the problem. The man was packed! And if you’ve managed to ride it and leave it. More power to you.”

“Natasha!”

“What?! I remember the poker game. I remember him stripping!” she laughed as you rolled your eyes.

“How could I forget? He made a show about it in front of me when he could’ve easily just magicked his clothes off!”

“Look. Just come. Prove to him that you don’t care what he said to you. That it was a game for you too and nothing more. Right?”

“Right…” you agreed hesitantly.

You followed Nat down the hallway, praying to any powers-that-be that Loki wouldn’t show up. Wanda bound up to the two of you and she blocked your view of the common area. She was very excited about the movie, thanking Steve for letting her choose it. When she moved to sit, was when your eyes landed on the recliner across from you. Decked out in a fitted white shirt and loose black denim, sat Loki, with his arms crossed and legs open as if in invitation.

You sat on the couch to the other side of him, facing the other direction, pretending to be interested in the projector Bucky was trying to work out. Bucky smacked it a few times till the light flickered momentarily and then went black again.

“Why is this not working?!” Bucky raised his arm to hit it again before you and Vision stopped him.

“You know, I think we should play a little game to take our mind off things while those two try to fix the monitor,” suggested Natasha. “A little game of Truth or Dare, perhaps?” The game got your attention and you looked directly at the redhead, affixing your death stare to her pouty lips.

What are you up to? You mouthed to her. She ignored you completely and turned around. “Ooh, can I go first? I love this game!” Wanda asked bouncing excitedly. “I’ll start with Steve!”

“Awe why do you have to start with me?” He asked petulantly.

“Cuz you’re our fearless leader. So lead!” Natasha pushed. Steve only rolled his eyes.

“Truth or dare?” Wanda asked.

Steve lowered his head down in defeat, smiling, trying to be a good sport. “Dare,” he said to the resounding oohs and aahs from the group.

“I dare you to demonstrate the best kiss you’ve ever had.” Wanda smiled innocently at the heckles and jabs thrown in Steve’s direction. Although, you got the feeling that she was hiding more than she was letting on.

“What? Like in the air?” Steve proceeds to pucker his lips and kiss an imaginary person in front of him.

“No! OK, that’s… kind of gross!” Everyone laughed.

“How ‘bout on her!” Nat interrupted, pointing to you as she sat back and smiled, watching the whole thing play out.

Heat ran down your back as you looked at Steve. He gave you a boyish, heartwarming smile that almost took your breath away. You watched as he got up and made his way over to you. Did everything just go in slow motion? He lifted your chin to face him. “May I?” he asked so sweetly, and you nodded in response. With bright blue eyes shut, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was soft at first. He gently sucked on your upper lip and splayed his hands open, cupping your cheek. You had missed this. The closeness. The intimacy.

You missed him!

You started thinking about Loki and the few erotically charged moments you spent with him. You moaned at Steve’s touch, imagining it was Loki you were kissing. Steve took that as a sign to tilt his head and his tongue dove in further. It slid across yours, sending a tingling sensation down to your core.

Natasha watched Loki. As Loki watched you. The scowl on his face getting deeper and deeper as you clung to Steve tighter and tighter. Steve pulled away slowly, as he breathed out. You didn’t realize you were holding tight to his lapels, on your tippy toes, keeping him close to you.

“Ok. My turn!” Steve smiled and turned around abruptly as if he hadn’t given you one memorable kiss. You stood there stunned into place, slowly turning to face away from Loki. Steve looked at Natasha to exact his revenge. “Natasha. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” She answered confidently.

“Have you ever fantasized about anyone in this room, intimately?”

“Yes.” She answered and Bucky’s ears picked up, looking at the deadly assassin through his side eyes.

“Who?!” Steve asked aloud.

“Fixed!” Bucky yelled as the monitor came to life.

“One more before the movie starts.” Nat turned to you and asked you with wild eyes and a mischievous grin. “Truth or dare?”

You took a deep breath and sighed, “Dare.” Nat’s grin got even wider as she walked up to you and whispered her dare in your ear.

“Oh come on! We all want to hear it!” Wanda said. Your eyes turned wide and the expression on your face dropped when Natasha pulled away.

“Go on. You have to do it! You chose dare.” She goaded you. You narrowed your eyes at her as you started making your way over to Loki on his lone recliner. His arms were still folded, and his legs were still open.

The confusion on his face was telling. It got even more concerned when you turned around and sat directly on his lap. Loki held his arms in the air, unsure of what to do or where to put them. “Excuse me?!” he finally said.

The room looked at both of you, chuckling and awe-faced. Nat looked like she had won a match that you were unwittingly a player in.

“Just go with it, okay?” you whispered to Loki.

“Go with what? Why are you sitting on my lap?” Loki bellowed.

“Shh! The movie is starting,” Natasha scolded the both of you, turning around with a self-satisfying grin. The audacity! The fucking nerve of this woman! You were going to pay her back somehow. You didn’t know where or how, but one day! Best friend be damned! Maybe you’ll reveal who she’s been having fantasies about. Maybe you’ll hide all her guns. Yeah! And her stun bracers too!

Loki placed his hands on the armrest. He was euphoric at the turn of events. But highly confused as to what the dare was to make you sit on his lap. How long will he have? Are you going to sit here for the entire movie? Can he touch you? Norns how he longed to touch you! It’s been weeks since that awful morning. And every time he tried to talk to you, you would leave the room. Or there were more pressing matters at hand.

His pride and confidence left him the morning you left his bed. He thought he made it very clear how in love with you he was. But you either didn’t believe him or you were just playing a game with him.

He didn’t know how to approach you anymore. But one thing is for certain, if you keep moving the way you were, he would have to excuse himself immediately.

“Stop moving!” he ordered.

“I can’t help it. You’re not exactly comfortable to sit on.” You whisper-growled back at him.

“That’s not what it looked like a couple weeks back. I seem to recall you enjoyed sitting on my lap.” Without warning, Loki grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to his frame. Seating you right in between his open legs. Right on the cushion of the seat. “Better?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said begrudgingly. “Thank you.”

“Always a pleasure, darling.”

The first half hour of the movie was hard to follow. Every breath Loki would take, any small movement he would make, you felt it right behind you. You sat perfectly stiff. Your back, like a ruler, not wanting to give in to his warmth and comfort.

As the movie progressed, you tried to make the best of your awkward situation. The team had settled and forgotten about the two of you in the back of the room. You yourself got lost in the dramatic plot of the movie. All too soon, your arms grew tired. You relaxed them onto the armrest, forgetting that they were already occupied by Loki’s. You tried to relax them to your sides but were met with his thighs on either side of you.

Loki didn’t seem fazed by any of it. His breathing was even. His heartbeat was steady as a drum, albeit thumping loudly and hard behind you. The only tell he gave away was the movement of his head next to yours. His quick inhale of breath as he surreptitiously smelled the perfume of your hair.

How long has it been? Days? Weeks? A lifetime, since you’ve felt his touch. And here you are now, sitting on his lap, hoping that the growing hardness you felt behind you is what you think it is and not just his belt buckle.

“Truth or dare, darling?” Loki whispered in your ear, breaking his resolve.

“Loki, I’m tired of these games. I don’t-”

“Truth? Or dare?” he insisted. You gave out a big sigh and rolled your eyes, knowing he could see your expression. You looked around at your team, engrossed in the movie.

“They can’t hear us as long as you whisper,” Loki said answering your unspoken question.

“Truth.” You answered him.

“Really?” he asked surprised.

“Well, a dare got me into this mess,” you reasoned.

“What was Natasha’s dare?” Of all the things he could’ve asked you. You didn’t think he would be too curious, but it was also the one answer that would leave you too vulnerable.

“She dared me to-”

“Sit on my lap?”

“No!” A beat was taken before you had the courage to say what you needed to.

“What did she say, verbatim?”

“Her exact words were…to sit with the person I had feelings for…for the entire movie,” you whispered.

Heat crawled up your spine. You can feel your embarrassment radiate through your clothes and add to the heat that Loki was giving off. You felt so flushed and nervous that you started rambling. “And you had taken up the entire space with your long legs. Clearly, there was nowhere else for me to sit but your lap. I mean honestly. It was almost as if you didn’t want anyone sitting next to you. What’s the point in coming to these group exercises if you don’t intend to be amiable? I-”

“Shh,” Loki said putting his finger to your lips. “Keep your voice down, darling. Or else my enchantment will fail.” You looked around at your teammates who were still engrossed in the movie.

He pulled you closer to the chair, flushed against his firm chest. His large hand cradled your stomach while his other fingers continued to explore your lips. They tickled you as he ran them gingerly, tracing your cupid’s bow down to the soft pout of your bottom lip. He kept his stare at your mouth, lost in thought.

“Dare me, darling.” He whispered.

“That’s not how the game works, Loki,” you smiled.

“Dare me to kiss you. Please.” His plea took you by surprise. Desire wrapped around the two of you. Squeezing the air from both your lungs, leaving you wanting.

Breathlessly you said, “I dare you to kiss me Lo-” You hadn’t finished your sentence before his lips hungrily descended on yours. His hand cupped your cheek and kept your head to his. Your hands intertwined with his and he held on to you tighter.

Loki’s kiss was deep and demanding. There was a sense of urgency to it as if he was running out of time and he had yet to get his fill of you. He pulled away briefly to breathe but his appetite only grew. He needed to kiss you. He needed to touch you. Everywhere.

With his eyes closed, his lips found your neck and artfully marked your skin. His hands flew to the buttons of your shirt, opening them one by one as you laid your head back onto his shoulders.  You gave in to him. Into his touch. His hands reached inside and cupped your breast, making you moan.

A well-timed explosion happened in the movie that you and Loki had already disregarded. It pulled your attention away from his yearning, giving you logic long enough to remember where you were.

“Loki…” you whimpered. He ignored your cries and was lost in his own spiral. “Loki I…I need you. But not here. Not in front of everyone.”

“Why not in front of everyone? That way Rogers knows what a proper kiss looks like,” he growled. His jealousy made you titter. “Let me wipe that moment out of your memories. Let me replace it with my lips.” He grabbed your chin and kissed you again with no regard for keeping it quiet. His entire body shook with emotion. Longing, jealousy, dominance.

“I was thinking of you,” you admitted panting onto his lips. “I was imagining I was kissing you.”

Loki stared into your eyes as he let that information swirl in his thoughts. His growing smile sent shivers throughout your body. You felt carnal pleasure in knowing you had pleased him somehow.

His voice changed. His eyes had grown darker. He inhaled through his teeth as he praised you, “That’s my girl,” he snarled. His hands continued to roam underneath your blouse. His fingers pinched your aching nipples through the lace of your bra, sending you jolts of pleasure down to your already heated sex. “Are you going to continue being a good girl for me?”  

You nodded devotedly. “Good,” Loki growled, fighting to keep his desire at bay. “I want you to go to my room and wait for me on my bed. Can you do that for me, pet?”

You moaned when he nipped your jaw gently waiting for you to answer. You slowly got up, feeling the rush of your excitement pool down into your panties. You walked slowly, trying not to get the attention of the others, as you snuck behind the chair where Loki was sitting.

“Oh and pet…” he whispered grabbing your hand gently. “…Don’t think of running away to make me chase you like last time. Unless,” spreader bar “You’d like to be cuffed and barred again.” He smiled, daring you.

⬅️20 Questions | House of Card➡️

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958@salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Five

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau and Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour.

W/C: 1,776

The smell of coffee enticed you as you were nudged awake. Opening your eyes, you saw Dean standing over you, a steaming mug in hand, wearing a bemused expression. From where he stood, you had slid down the couch arm in the night, legs akimbo, sticking out over the other couch arm, the fluffy socks a reason for his bemusement.

You must’ve slept at a funny angle cause your neck felt stiff as Hell. You struggled to sit up but managed, shifting the blanket so Dean could sit if he wanted to. You swiped a hand down your face, knuckles rubbing the sleep out of your eyes until you saw stars.

“Captain America, boot you out or something?”

You shook your head and accepted the mug from him.

“Ben snores like a Mack truck.”

“Ahh.”

He sat beside you, wearing the clothes he came in, minus his jacket.

“Well, Beau’s in the kitchen cooking up a storm. Hope you don’t mind. I saw you had a coffee maker. Hell, I’m surprised you didn’t wake up after all the noise it made. I was convinced you would. Beau checked on you, too. Said you were still sound asleep.” He chuckled lightly and waited expectantly.

Figures. You could sleep through a noisy coffee machine, but not Ben’s snoring.

You stared at the mug in your hands. God, it smelled so good. He reminded you of a kid who just wanted to impress their parents. He held the same energy. A pent-up kind of excitement. You brought the mug to your lips and sipped.

Holy fuck.

That was the best coffee you’ve ever tasted. Not too sweet, not too bitter and heated to perfection. Your tastebuds rejoiced in the flavour.

“Oh, shit.” You whispered.

“Good, right?”

He looked so proud of himself, so happy. And he had a right to be. You savoured the taste, closing your eyes. You’d tried with that coffee maker, but whoever designed it had made it as complicated as possible. You’d given up, pushing it to the back of the cupboard, leaving it to gather dust. You’d forgotten about it, lying to your then mother-in-law, who had gifted it to you and your husband as a wedding gift.

“Well, I’ll let you—yep.”

He slapped his thighs, stood up and left you alone with your coffee.

The warmth from the mug seeped to your core. Your ankles ached from exposure to the cold, and your back twinged from sleeping on the couch, but the coffee made up for it.

You heard Dean and Beau’s deep tones and laughter from the kitchen. Whatever Beau was doing, it smelt good. And it seemed that Dean and Beau were getting along. You could only hope that Ben would join their camaraderie.

Heavy footsteps thudded downstairs, pulling you from your thoughts, stopping you from checking on the two men in the kitchen.

Ben emerged wearing only his boxers. How did he manage to still look so good? His hair wasn’t exactly flawless, but it looked better than yours. Yours resembled a bird’s nest, but his made him look even sexier. It wasn’t fair, and it had you thinking. What would he look like after sex?

“You look like shit, y’know that?”

He sauntered in and took the seat beside you. He noted the mug in your hands and brazenly took it, downing the contents as you stared at him in shock.

“Fuck. That’s some good coffee, sweetcheeks.”

The audacity of this man was something else. And it only got worse. He handed back the empty mug and stood. He scratched his balls right in your eyesight, stretched, then tapped your knee.

“C’mon, getchur ass in the kitchen, I’m starvin’.”

All you could do was sit and stare at him, mug almost hanging from your hand. You blinked.

“Doll, if you don’t close your mouth, I’ll put it to good use.”

You clamped your mouth shut. Your brows bunched together in irritation, and you stood.

“Don’t talk to me like that. And you owe me a coffee.”

You barged past him, purposefully bumping into his arm on your way to the kitchen.

“Hey!” He barked.

You opened the kitchen door. Beau was at the stove, and Dean sat at your table, mug in hand.

“Hey! Don’t walk away from me, lady!”

A hand gripped your arm, swinging you around to face Ben. A chair scraped behind you.

“Hey, why don’t you cool it and step away, Marlboro Man?”

 “Fuck you, lumberjack.”

“Hey, hey!”

Beau’s deep shout reverberated around the room. You turned to see Beau standing at the stove, apron on, and wielding a spatula.

“Enough of the language, it’s too damn early to be fighting and yelling. Now let go of our host’s arm and put some damn clothes on.”

That shut him up. And you. And Dean. Ben let go of your arm and stormed away, back down the short hallway leading to the stairs. He disappeared up them.

You rubbed your arm and sat down, placing the empty mug on the table. Dean huffed, and you heard him mumble, “Ain’t no lumberjack…”

He sat pouting like a little kid. It was kinda cute, and your heart twinged. How could a grown-ass man make you feel like this? You wanted to put your arms around him and comfort him.

Then, as you were sitting there, it occurred to you that you hadn’t had a chance to tell them your name due to last night’s craziness. The thought never even occurred.

“I should probably tell you my name, huh?”

Dean snorted, instantly perking up.

“That would be nice. Finally, put a name to a face since you know ours.”

Dean gave you one of his award-winning grins, along with a cheeky wink. Then he downed the rest of his coffee and placed the mug on the side.

“I should probably wait until Ben’s back down, right?”

“Why? You don’t know how long he’s gonna be. How do you like your eggs?” Beau inquired.

“Scrambled. Please.” You added the pleasantry, remembering that he was the guest. “You didn’t have to do this, y’know.”

“Oh, I know, darlin’. Force o’ habit, I suppose. And Dean here was figuring out the coffee machine.” Beau said over his shoulder as he cracked a few eggs and whisked them in a bowl.

“Thing had a ton of dust, like, covered.”

“I couldn’t figure it out.” You admitted.

“Well, I’ll show you sometime…uh.”

“Y/N.” You finished for him.

“Y/N.”

The soft timbre of his voice gave your belly flutters. Oh, you could definitely get used to hearing your name slip from his lips, addicted even.

After a short wait, Beau placed a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes in front of you, setting your cutlery beside the plate. Holy Hell. Everything looked perfect. Dean rubbed his hands together in glee when Beau placed his plate down. He didn’t take a second to dive in, and then make his approval known. His moan shot down to your core, and your eyes fluttered in shock. It was too damn early. He couldn’t be making you feel this way. Shouldn’t, even.

“Damn, this…. this is…. mmmm.” Dean took another bite, not bothering to finish his thoughts.

You took your cue. The first forkful blew away your mind and tastebuds. And the sound that came from your lips rivalled Dean’s. Both Dean and Beau stopped to stare at you.

“Sorry…but damn…Beau…it’s so good.”

His cheeks turned pink, and he turned around to hide. You heard the spatula scraping against the pan as two more plates were made.

*

Dean, Beau, and Ben congregated in the living room, with you standing before them. Dean wanted to get started on the frames box, deciphering whatever was inscribed. But you had to make a food run and get these boys some clothes besides what they already wore. And as much as you loved them, there was no way in Hell you were letting them stay whilst you went out.

“Okay, if anybody asks, you’re brothers. Triplets, even. Last name, Smith.”

Ben snorted. “Ain’t no one gonna believe that, dollface.”

“And why not?” You demanded, already done with Ben’s antics today. “It’s totally plausible. You three look more like triplets than the set down the road.”

You put your hand to your head. Frustration bunched your muscles and had your jaw tensing.

“Just…get in the damn car.”

You stomped off, snatching the keys off the hook on the wall. You toed your sneakers on and grabbed the bags from the porch. From inside, you heard Dean reprimanding Ben.

“Why you gotta purposely annoy Y/N for? She’s tired, and you irritating her ain’t helping.”

You yawned, stretching your aching shoulders and neck whilst the guys traipsed out. Yanking on the handle, you stepped into the drivers seat. Your car was nothing special, a standard SUV. It was a couple years old, and the odometer was getting upwards of fifty thousand miles.

You rested your forehead on the steering wheel. Dean’s coffee and Beau’s breakfast had sustained you, but it seemed not enough for the task ahead.

“I call shotgun,” Beau exclaimed as he exited your house.

“The fuck you do!” Ben barked out.

“Alright, there’s a simple solution to this. Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets the seat.” Dean reasoned.

From your wing mirror, you saw Dean pull the door handle up, successfully locking the door. Then they stood in a circle, and Dean declared on three they reveal. You could only make out Dean’s back and Beau’s side profile. His hair ruffled in the breeze as they stood and played their game.

Ben shouted out, calling bullshit, and stormed off.

The car door opened a moment later, slamming shut as Ben sat in the back. His jaw ticked, obviously stewing from the loss. You couldn’t help but smile. A light chuckle escaping your lips.

“The fuck you laughing at?”

You shrugged.

“Why didn’t you just sit in the passenger seat? What they gonna do? Drag you out?”

Ben furrowed his brow. He snorted and shook his head.

“Never damn occurred to me.”

Now you snorted. Figures. But it was too late now. Your passenger side door opened, and Beau heaved himself in beside you. Dean sat beside Ben. 

“Nothing like a good game of rock, paper, scissors.” Beau grinned as he buckled himself in.

“That’s cause you won.” Ben sulked.

“Aw, come on now, don’t be a Debby downer, just cause you lost. Fair and square. You picked rock, and Dean and I chose paper. Them’s the rules.”

“Still bullshit.” Ben mumbled, sulking in his seat, as you started the engine.

Tags:

@curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch

[underdark-dreams]

Fellow Rolan lovers forgive me 👀 I have no idea where this came from. I just encountered Harper Geraldus in Act 3 again in my playthrough last night, and my brain said, that boy needs to get [redacted]

Harper Geraldus x afab!OC (unnamed, description kept vague)

Wet Behind the Ears

"What would you like, Geraldus? You can tell me." Harper Geraldus has had a very bad, terrible, absolutely no-good week. His superiors decide he needs a night at the Sharess's Caress to cure what ails him.

Tags: Size Kink, Sexual Inexperience, Face Sitting, Explicit | afab!OC

Word Count: 5.6k [Read on AO3]

No sooner had she stepped from the bathwater did the door to her chambers swing open.

“Hope you’re not headed to bed,” called a sing-song voice.

She wrapped a towel around her wet middle just as Irenya flounced brazenly past the wooden screen beside her bath. Privacy was a rare luxury in Sharess’s Caress, but her workday was well over—she’d earned the right to a bit of it.

“Do come in,” she drawled. 

The elf only gave her a coy smile as she toyed with the laces of her tiny bodice. Even for a courtesan, Irenya wore as little as she could get away with. And the bar downstairs owed her half its profits for it.

“Good, you’re up. Mamzell’s got another client for you.”

“At this hour?” A bit of impatience crept into her voice; it was far past midnight. Whoever they were, they’d better be paying well. “Don’t suppose they’d prefer one of our lovely drow.”  

“You know that’s not how this works,” Irenya laughed, a tinkling sound. “Mamzell handpicked you. Said you’ll be his type.” 

That meant he was either quite green, or quite reserved—she knew her niche well. She busied herself with toweling off and wondered which. “Patriar?”

“Harper,” answered Irenya.

That did stir a mild curiosity. Harpers were even rarer than Guild members on the upper floors of this place, and that was saying something. Folk who dealt in secrecy and under-dealings were strongly discouraged from visiting pleasure houses—though she knew from personal experience that they didn’t always listen to orders. 

And why should they? Sharess’s Caress kept secrets better than any of them put together. But unlike the Guild or the Zhent, most Harpers weren’t known to have pockets deep enough for after-hours trysts. 

“If this is another favor for Entharl Danthelon,” she warned, cinching a gauze robe around her waist. “I swear, Amira turns into a giggling maid around that bloke. Don’t tell her I said that,” she added swiftly.

Thankfully, Irenya didn’t seem to hear. She took an eager step closer. “Just wait till you see, you might have fun with this one. He’s so pretty,” Irenya groaned, biting her lip in the way that earned all that coin.

Pretty or not, her body yearned only for her empty bed. But telling Irenya that would ensure it got back to Mamzell Amira, and the house mother’s patience had its limits. She put on a practiced smile instead.

“Then kindly shoo,” she told Irenya. “And send the pretty man up.”

As the door swung shut behind the elf—who was no doubt headed for a good night’s sleep, unlike herself—she heaved a sigh and moved to prepare her room for clientele. A second goblet on the tray; a pass over the covers and pillows to ensure they looked fresh and unslept in. She shook her hair down from its clasp, glancing in the mirror by the bath to smooth it. Then she perched herself on the edge of the mattress and arranged her robe to show a sliver of leg. Just enough to catch the eye. 

If this Harper was openly visiting the Caress, he must have done something very impressive worth rewarding. Or else survived something awful enough to warrant a professional distraction.

Gods, let it not be the latter. She’d comforted her share of men and women who only wanted to be held while they cried, but tonight, the prospect made her groan. A tumble in the sheets would be far less work on her part, and the customer usually left just as satisfied in the end.

A soft tap at the door broke her reverie. 

Her brow furrowed for a moment—knocks were rare. “Come in,” she called.

When the youth stepped slowly into her room, it was immediately apparent why he hadn’t just opened the door like any other patron would.

Irenya hadn’t lied—he was certainly pretty. But gods, he was young. Couldn’t be older than twenty or so, with an angular jaw and wide hazel eyes framed by long, dark lashes the same color as the hair curling just past his shoulders. He had the look of a fawn who’d just stumbled into the middle of civilization.

She watched his large eyes quickly take in the room. When they fell on her where she sat, the blush that traveled up his face was noticeable even in candlelight.

Her mind switched tack at once. She rose to her bare feet, wearing her friendliest and least wanton smile. 

“Please,” she invited, drawing an arm out to welcome him in. 

His eyes flicked down her figure once, then settled firmly up on her face. “Thank you,” he managed, and strode briskly into the room as if afraid she might rescind the offer. 

It took only a few seconds to size him up. His leather jerkin was well-worn but clean, same as his boots. He was tall and fit, yet he moved with more of a cautious ranger’s gait than that of a soldier or swordsman. Perhaps that was just down to nerves. As she watched him close the door, she noticed his pale fingers fidget and shake on the latch slightly.  

Few of his age and apparent rank could afford this place, particularly by special appointment. Someone must be very fond of this young man.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she told him, filling the inevitable silence before it could form. “Would you like a drink? I’ve got something excellent from Amn.”

She turned away to uncork the bottle and give him a chance to look around. In truth, this was a vintage she’d been saving for a quiet moment alone tonight—but it would taste just as fine with company. As she filled both cups, she could hear him shifting on his feet behind her.

“Thank you,” he repeated again as she turned back. His voice was a gentle tenor, and there was a nervous tremble on the first word. 

“So.” She offered the wine out to him—he was careful not to touch her fingers as he accepted it. “What shall I call you?”

“Geraldus,” he blurted out. Clearly not taking up her veiled offer to give a pseudonym. When his doelike eyes finally met hers again, they were unsure. “Can—could I ask your name?”

She gave him another easy smile and replied with the usual. Not returning his honesty—but when did she ever?

“Very nice to meet you.” And young Geraldus actually dipped his head in a little bow to her. Oh, she would have this one fast asleep in half an hour.

“What a gentleman,” she laughed, finding herself harmlessly charmed by the gesture. “The pleasure’s all mine. Seat?” 

She sank back down on the edge of the bed while leaving plenty of space for a gap. For a moment Geraldus froze, and she was afraid she’d broken him. Then he followed suit wordlessly, wine in hand, and took a seat on the very far corner of the mattress.

Really should bother Amira for some chairs, she noted to herself. Then again, most of the clientele didn’t mind beds as much as Geraldus apparently did.

At least he was drinking. It would help him forget his nerves, and she was pleased to see Geraldus take a long drought as his eyes roamed across the room again over the edge of his cup.

She took a savoring sip. “Good, isn’t it?”

“It’s sweet,” he agreed in surprise. “It doesn’t burn like—” He caught himself, looking sheepishly at her. “That is, it’s better than the wine back home.”

“Where’s home for you, Geraldus?” She tried and failed to imagine such a gentle soul growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

“Nowhere special,” he said, looking down to swirl the liquid in his cup. “Just a little village in the Greenfields.”

“Ah—” She half-reclined with an elbow on the mattress, and felt a grin rise to her face in spite of herself. “Yeah, that’s firmly ale country. Damn good ale, though.”

Geraldus’s face finally relaxed. “You’re from Greenfields too?”

“Just lived there for a while. Long enough to miss it after a few years in the Gate. Let me guess, was your family in barley or sheep?”

“Sheep,” he laughed, and she admired how handsome he was with a touch more confidence. “On rainy days I can still smell the wool.”

“You think sheep are bad? Try pigs.” She cocked a brow at him and took another drink.

Geraldus looked at her as though trying to tell whether she was joking. “There’s no way someone like you has mucked out a pig stall.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a lady,” he protested, as if that ended the discussion. “You drink Amnian wine, you smell like lavender—” Geraldus straightened up slightly, looking as though he'd given too much away. 

She found she enjoyed his guilelessness. She had no regrets about the comforts this life afforded her, but ‘lady’ was a stretch. Still, manners were always appreciated.

“How else do you think I paid my way here?” She teased him. “Selling my best sows set me up quite nicely my first year in Wrym’s Crossing.”

The subjects of life in the country compared to life in Baldur’s Gate took them far. She refilled their wine twice, eventually just leaving the bottle within arm’s reach on the floor. Geraldus had relaxed enough to mirror her pose and lean back on his elbow; she brought her feet up on the bed to curl into a comfortable shape beside him.

Perhaps sleepiness and the wine were going to her own head…but Geraldus looked prettier by the minute. She watched the rose-petal curve under his lower lip as he spoke, not catching what he was saying. His eyes were more of a pale green than the hazel gold she’d taken them for at first. Or maybe that was just a trick of the candlelight?

As she pondered, she realized that he had grown silent and was watching her face in turn. She'd angled herself closer to him involuntarily while he spoke. They were close enough she could hear the shallow note of his breathing.

“Can I ask you something?” She requested, breaking the quiet. Geraldus nodded.

“Why exactly did you come here tonight? You’re not the usual type,” she added, and touched her fingers to his free hand in an attempt to soften the observation.

“Oh.” Geraldus fiddled with the neck of the wine glass in his hand. “It wasn’t really my idea. Not that—this is nice,” he said in a rush, and she felt his fingers twining up through hers on the bedspread. “Not like I expected.”

She cocked her head. “Did you expect me to eat you up?” Not a bad idea, she thought, glancing over the lines of his body under his jerkin.

“No!” He blurted out in surprise. “Maybe? I don’t know…it just happened so fast. Entharl pushed me out the doors before I knew where I was. Said I was too gloomy for usual company,” he added, looking down at his boots. 

So that confirmed her earlier suspicions. Harpers may be discreet, but it was hard to miss things when you worked down the street from what was almost certainly one of their safehouses. Which meant poor Geraldus must have been sent here tonight for comforting as much as pleasuring.

“Have you had a bad day?” She asked gently.

His large eyes met hers with a long look. For a moment, he almost seemed close to tears. “Bad week,” he answered.

She brushed the back of his hand with her thumb. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Vehemently, he shook his head at her.

“What would you like to do then, Geraldus? You can tell me.”

“I don't know…I’m not sure.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Can I kiss you?”

In answer, she took the wine glass from his hand and set it at the foot of the bed beside her own. Then she reclined parallel to him, tilting her face up in an open offer.

Without another word, he leaned down to press his lips to hers. He trembled slightly against her, whether from nerves or from a more sober emotion she couldn’t tell. She brought a hand up to his hair regardless, smoothing and tucking the dark waves back behind one lightly pointed ear.

Their lips slid together softly like that for a long moment. Eventually she felt Geraldus relaxing against her mouth. But his frame still hovered over her, as if he wasn’t sure where to put his weight.

Without breaking the kiss, she guided his far arm to her side. Though she’d placed it there herself, the feel of his large palm pressing against her waist stirred a pleasant warmth in her belly. She clasped both hands behind his neck, encouraging him to lean down further over her while they kissed.

When he left his lips parted for a few seconds, she took the chance to gently touch her tongue to his. Geraldus made a soft, eager sound against her, returning the gesture with enthusiasm. His mouth was warm and sweet and tasted of rich Amnian wine.

While kissing him was lovely, she was increasingly curious to know how else she might take this poor boy’s mind off his apparent troubles. When she pulled away, Geraldus’s face trailed after hers as though reluctant to end the kiss.

“Would you like me to kiss you anywhere else, darling?”

Geraldus blinked down at her, perhaps thrown by the pet name. “Where else is there?”

It brought a laugh from her, and she curled her fingers through the dark locks behind his neck. “You really don’t know how this works, do you.”

His eyes widened with a nervousness that only confirmed her suspicions. 

“I've been with a woman before,” he answered defensively. 

“Oh?” She continued petting his hair, keeping her tone light and unteasing. “Have you been kissed other places, then? By men or women?”

From there, it was easy to suss out the exact limits of his experience. It came as no shock that no one had ever put their lips anywhere but his mouth. Not his neck, his chest, his cock—that last fact she withheld her kisses from him until he admitted, flushing profusely right up to his dark hair all the while. 

She found herself speaking more plainly than usual. “Geraldus, first I’d like to help you out of these clothes. Then I’d like to suck you off before I ride you. How does that sound?”

That had most certainly broken him. He stammered and blushed somehow darker; she could practically feel the heat radiating off his face above hers.

Finally, he managed a breathless response of “yes, please.”

She drew his lips in against hers again as she went to work. She felt him reach a hand to the buckles under his side, but she was already springing them open on both right and left.

“How do you know—” He began, impressed, before quieting as the realization hit him. She slid the leather pieces up over his head and leaned in to give him a quick, enthusiastic kiss. When his linen tunic followed, she kept him held back for a moment with a hand splayed over his sternum.

Gods damn, but they grew them right back in Greenfields. 

Geraldus was broad-shouldered and lean, with firm bands of muscle beneath the pale skin of his arms and chest and stomach. From the sinews in his forearms and the strong cut of his shoulders, she guessed he handled a longbow quite often.

As her eyes raked over him with open appreciation, she caught sight of a shining scar across his left side. Young he may be, but his body already bore evidence of his chosen profession. She reached to brush down the line of it with her fingers; Geraldus shivered but tilted slightly into her hand.

“Didn’t get that shepherding,” she observed.

“No,” Geraldus agreed. He licked his lips again—the gesture was much more intriguing combined with shirtlessness. She hooked her thumbs over the waist of his pants in suggestion.

“Wait,” he requested, his gentle voice trembling again. She watched his eyes moving over the curves under her thin robe. “Can I?”

She leaned back and stretched her arms up over the pillows, arching her back in invitation. 

Slowly and deliberately, as if unwrapping an expensive gift, his fingers reached for the tie at her waist. She watched with satisfaction as he drew the garment open to each side to expose the bare length of her body. His lips parted in admiration as he took her in.

“Can I touch you?” Geraldus asked in a whisper.

“Anywhere you like,” she assured him.

To her delight, Geraldus fell over her and began eagerly exploring her chest with his lips. When his hot mouth closed over the hard peak of one breast, she hummed in approval and ran her nails up through his long hair. It seemed to encourage him; his calloused palm moved to cup the other.

“Tonight’s for you, darling,” she reminded him lazily, not really in a hurry to interrupt him.

He responded between hungry swirls of his tongue. “I’d kiss you here if you’d let me,” he said, and his hand actually slid from her breast to land boldly above the apex of her thighs.

“Absolutely not,” she laughed against his brow. “Gods, you’re unbelievable—how dare those Harpers keep you hidden away so long? Sure you don’t have a little sweetheart in Rivington?”

“Of course not—” There was a wet sound as he released her breast to stare up at her, wide-eyed. “I wouldn’t be here if—if I was—”

She clasped his jaw in a hand to kiss him again, drowning out whatever earnest response he was trying to make to her teasing. “If you’re very, very good tonight, I’ll sit on your pretty face. How about that?”

“Gods,” he groaned, and that pretty face landed between her breasts. “Would you?”

She looked down at him quizzically. “You honestly want to, don’t you?”

His cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Yes,” he admitted.

“As long as you’re a good boy, then,” she told him. With a firm shove, she sent him sitting back on his heels at the end of the bed. “Now take off your pants, Geraldus.”

He scrambled to obey, kicking off his boots before his fingers fumbled at the laces of his trousers. She lay back and watched him with genuine anticipation. From the size of the tent straining at his front, she already suspected that the gods had given to him with both hands.

And what a delightful bit of justice in a harsh world—for young Harper Geraldus to be blessed with such a big cock.

His impressive length stood stiff at attention, skin a lovely smooth pink—and the size of him. Not the biggest she'd had, but much closer than his blushing shyness had led her to believe.

She crooked one finger at him where he stood in a come-hither motion. He crawled up the bed eagerly, but she shifted away to the side at the last minute. “On your back,” she directed him. 

Geraldus obeyed again, his tall frame collapsing into the pillows as he watched her shuck the robe all the way back off her shoulders. She curled up into his side, tracing a finger down the firm, fair planes of his chest and stomach. He shivered under her touch.

Then her fingers closed gently around his base—barely fitting a third of his length in her grip. She pumped him a few slow times from base to tip. It would require most of her creativity to take him, either with her mouth or her cunt.

But if anyone deserved both, it was the young man currently squirming and whining in her bed. She could tell Geraldus was struggling to quell the instinct to thrust up faster into her grip. No doubt trying to be good enough to earn what she’d promised, judging by the way his wide eyes were fixed in anticipation on her face. She clenched her thighs together at the thought of having his eager mouth between them.

“I can see why no one’s put lips to your cock before,” she mused, enjoying the way his dark brows screwed up just from the unhurried strokes of her hand.

“W-why?” His tenor had shot up to a strained pitch. She loosened her grasp completely—it would be too easy to finish him like that.

“You’ve got enough to choke on,” she told him, and climbed between his legs. “But don’t worry, I’m quite good at this.”

Before he could clear his expression from its jumbled mixture of shock and hope, she leaned to take his tip softly over her tongue.

His body made a sharp jackknife at the waist, and Geraldus let out a word much filthier than she expected. But she was ready for his physical reaction—the weight of her forearms on his hips kept them firmly planted into the mattress.

She slid her mouth over him, relaxing her jaw to take him all the way to the back of her throat before releasing everything but the very tip of his cock. She continued the motion several times until saliva trickled down the rest of his length. Then she returned her hand to his base, twisting her grip to meet her lips with each motion.  

She took him just like that, giving attention to his full length, relishing the way his smooth tip bumped the back of her throat with each thrust. He whimpered and begged incoherently above her at the sensations of her mouth and hand taking him in tandem. Could he already be as close as he sounded?

Just as the thought occurred, she felt his legs tense on either side of her own. Almost disappointed, she instantly slid her mouth off him with a wet kiss of release. 

Geraldus made a sound like a sob at the absence. When she glanced up, there were actual tears pricking at the corners of his dark eyelashes.

“Dearest,” she murmured up to him. It was far too tempting to apologize to that face; she placed nipping kisses along his thighs instead. “You deserve to feel my cunt first, don't you think?”

“Yes,” he groaned, obviously trying to master the strain in his voice. It suddenly seemed like a very good time to reward his patience.

“Be a good boy and slide down,” she urged him, already moving up around his straining erection on her knees to straddle his waist.

That brought a spark of hope to his eyes. Geraldus frantically gripped her torso for leverage, tugging her bodily up the bedcovers as he somehow nudged each of his broad shoulders through the gap in her legs. As he settled her above him, he stared up at the slick view between her thighs like a penitent.

“Smack me twice if you can’t breathe,” she told him, giving his dark locks a teasing pull to try and get his attention. The way he nodded left her unconvinced he’d heard.

Deciding he looked ready enough, she lowered herself firmly over his waiting mouth.

For all his obvious inexperience, the instant heat and enthusiasm of his tongue was a pleasant start. Her eyelashes fluttered in satisfaction as he painted firm strokes up her folds, just barely reaching her peak.

“Good,” she praised with a sigh. “Higher—”

He listened attentively despite wearing her thighs clasped around the delicate points of his ears. His hands rose to her hips as he angled his mouth higher, finally hitting the spot where she needed him most. Her toes curled where they were pressed over his biceps.

He was completely unpracticed, but he had good enough instincts to keep the pace steady as she rocked herself against his face. She imagined his hips bucking uselessly into the air behind her, desperate to wet his neglected cock in the folds his tongue was parting.

“Pretty Geraldus,” she sighed, her hand a fist in his dark hair, trying to keep her wits about her as she felt a twitching climax build at her core. “Shall I come on your tongue?”

His eyes flew wide between her legs. In answer, strong forearms gripped tighter over each of her thighs, holding her down onto the now-frantic lapping of his tongue over her slit. She closed her eyes and arched her back against him, giving way to the heat of his mouth desperately sucking and licking her closer to the edge.

With one last tug on his hair, she shuddered against him and rode out her orgasm over his tongue. She felt a gush of arousal from her center flow out over his lips. Geraldus moaned something against her flesh, but the words dissolved into a hum that ran straight to her core and reverberated as another shiver of pleasure up her spine.    

With effort, she pushed herself back to sit on his chest, freeing his arms. Geraldus gasped for air slightly, but his expression was drunk with pleasure and a bit of pride. His mouth and chin were painted wet with her arousal.

“Such a good boy,” she purred in praise. “Getting me ready to take that big cock of yours—” Before he could respond, she reached to swipe her thumb along the wet line of his jaw, then nudged at the juncture of his lips.

He understood immediately, obediently sucking her finger into his mouth and cleaning her release off with his tongue. She felt his hips rocking involuntarily behind her.

With a smooth shift of her weight, she landed with her bare chest pressed to his and pushed her wet slit back against the top of his cock.

“Oh,” Geraldus whined above her, and his beautiful eyes squeezed shut at the feeling. She continued slicking her folds up and down his length to wet him, all the while watching the way his face screwed up as if pained. His fingers flew to grip around hers where they lay over his ribs. 

It was difficult enough to line up her opening with his cock from this angle—let alone while having both hands held hostage under his own. Using his firm stomach as leverage, she pushed up to straddle him against her and then sank down. It seated the tip of him perfectly inside her. 

Just that first stretch was delicious. Geraldus seemed to feel the same; his hands released hers, instead landing on her hips with an enthusiastic squeeze. But he panted obediently under her, eyelids still shut tight, waiting for her to take him further.

Little by little, she eased herself down onto each inch of him, her jaw falling slack as he stretched her walls to their limit. Finally her hips landed to slot against his own. 

She stayed there for a moment, relishing the utter fullness of having his cock entirely buried within her. The ache at her opening was slowly tipping from a twinge of pain to a throb of pleasure.

But she wouldn’t be able to ride him from this angle. Instead, she leaned forward to grasp his strong shoulders and braced her arms straight against them. “Geraldus, look at me.”

His eyes fluttered open then, and landed on her face where it hovered above his. She took in his parted lips, the aquiline line of his nose, the youthful smoothness of his brow marred by a pleading wrinkle as he waited for her to move. And his expressive eyes, which she now decided with certainty were a pretty shade of hazel—currently traveling over her face as if trying to read her thoughts. 

“You are the loveliest man,” she told him with utter sincerity. And I’m going to fuck you until you forget everything but my cunt.

With his eyes still on her, she slid her hips up and back down over his length. A guttural, breathy sound rose straight from his chest. She continued working him in and out of her tight wetness, finding a slow but steady pace that was just barely past the edge of teasing for both of them.

“Oh, Gods—” His hands spasmed against her hips, as if he wanted to bounce her faster on him but wasn’t sure whether it was permitted.

She took the cue herself. She ground her hips into his at a more brisk clip—and bit her lip hard at the sensation of his tip knocking deep inside her with each thrust. At this angle and pace, he filled her to the point of incoherence.

After being taken up to the edge of release by her mouth, she could tell Geraldus was already close again. When her fingers brushed up over his hard nipples, he let out a shuddering whine of pleasure. His hard length twitched against her walls.

At once, she slowed to grind her hips into him, relishing the pressure of his hard cock filling her so fully. He panted at yet another denial, and she felt his calloused fingertips digging into the flesh of her hips. Geraldus gazed up at her with a plea for more.

“Have you been good enough to come in me?” She studied his face unhurried, admiring the way his fair brow screwed up in anguish and pleasure at the question. “What do you think, darling?”

“Yes,” he begged, too sweet to know he was strong enough to fuck her at whatever pace he wanted, even from this angle. “Please, yes, I have—”

She splayed her fingers across his chest, rocking herself deeper atop him. “Ask me for it.”

“Please,” he whined prettily, his eyes shining with tears again. “Please, please, I’ve been good, I swear—Gods, let me come inside you, please—”

He was so earnest, so beyond desperate, it would be unthinkably cruel to deny him. She leaned both hands back on his thighs and rode him hard, using the angle to drive his cock into her center again and again. Stars swelled across her vision; each thrust sent his considerable length pounding against the limits of her insides. She closed her eyes against another rush of pleasure to her core, listening to the sweet way Geraldus whimpered her name.

Large palms pressed hard against her lower back—the angle of him shifted inside her as he leaned up to muffle his sounds into the skin of her breast. Then his arms and legs shuddered as he released inside her, spilling and twitching against her walls. She rode him out through it, as best she could with the way he clutched her to him, wanting him to feel every last scrap of pleasure.

Her own climax hit her like the snap of a bowstring. She found her arms clenching around his shoulders for balance, as if she might tumble away on the wave that rushed through her body. 

Geraldus supported her firmly, sweet thing that he was, holding her tight despite the way his own limbs trembled.

After a while of him holding her straddled on his lap, the pressure between her legs turned to an ache. She stifled a wince as she shifted to slide off him. Even his softening length was a stretch for her tender and likely now bruised insides. She chided herself for riding him so enthusiastically before—she knew better than that. 

As she began to pull away further, Geraldus clutched his arms tight around her back.

“We just need a towel,” she explained, turning to kiss the tip of his ear. “Did you think I was leaving?”

“No,” he lied, growing sheepish again, but his arms loosened to let her up.

She returned with a soft cloth for each of them. He reached for one, but she knelt beside the bed to neatly clean him. Even now, he was still too green to grasp exactly how this all worked.

And the mess between her own legs could wait; by now his release had already dripped out of her to generously coat her thighs.

Once they were both tidy, she rose to her feet and smoothed back a stray lock of his hair. “Would you like me to draw you a bath?”

Geraldus shook his head, looking up at her with sleepy affection.

“Would you like to go to bed, then?”

His eyes filled with innocent delight. “I can stay?”

She considered telling him that after the sum his keepers had no doubt paid, he could do a great many more things with her. But it might be nice to surprise him with that in the morning. 

Instead, she raked her fingers through his hair and tilted his face up for a soft kiss. “Of course, darling.”

She moved on rather unsteady legs to snuff all the candles, then helped guide him under the covers through the dark. 

When it came to sleeping, she didn’t usually care to share her bed with others. Tonight she found herself in an unusually generous mood. Geraldus was long-limbed and full of wiry muscle, yet every bit as gentle as a lamb. 

As she settled herself under the blankets, he notched his face up against her shoulder and rested an arm securely across her middle. She leaned her cheek against his dark hair like a pillow. The feel of being weighed down by his body against her side was comforting in a way she didn’t expect.

“I love you,” Geraldus abruptly sighed against her neck.

She let out a sleepy breath of laughter that ruffled the locks of his hair. 

“No you don’t,” she told him gently, and pressed a kiss to his brow. “You just really, really needed that.”

[smallpeniscollective]

Smokin’

Eddie Munson x Reader (18+)

Summary: (reader smokes weed with her crush Eddie, lowered inhibitions lead to shared secrets, smut ensues)

Word Count: 5.8k

Content: she/her pronouns, drugs (don’t do drugs, kids), some cursing, sexual content, p in v sex, unprotected sex, praise during sex, pet names (princess, baby, sweet thing), loss of virginity (reader’s)

Minors DNI pls !!!

Part 2

*~*~*

All she could focus on was the ticking of the clock, digging deeper into her psyche and driving her absolutely crazy that class was not over yet. She wasn’t a bad student, in fact, she did very well in her English class, but right now all she could think about was meeting Eddie out by the abandoned wooden table in the woods, just far enough from the school so nobody would bother them. She was downright jonesing for some of that za.

It didn’t hurt that she had had a crush on the school freak for a while. They shared the senior Calculus class, and if it wasn’t for her letting him brazenly cheat off of all of her work, he wouldn’t even be passing. In the period before her English—the Calculus class—she had slid a note to Eddie that read, Woods after last period? He answered with a subtle nod, and that was that. They had plans to make a sweet deal.

The bell rang, and she scooped up her bag and almost ran out of the classroom, jump-scaring a few peers as she zoomed past them still in their seats. She slipped through the halls towards the exit, darting past all of the high school trope groups and the group-less people who were getting excited for the weekend.

It was a sunny day outside with small fluffy clouds, but still a briskness to the air, making her realize she had left her sweater in her English class in her rush. Well, she thought, I guess it’ll be in the lost and found on Monday.

She snuck past the track field, managing to stay unnoticed by all of the students leaving the school at the same time. Trudging through the forest, she made a game of it to make as little sound as she could, staring at her feet and avoiding twigs and leaves that looked particularly crunchy. She almost won the game in her head, just about to make it to the wooden table...

She hit something sturdy, immediately bouncing backwards and landing hard on her ass. “Ow,” she reacted, then looking up to meet the eyes of the man, the myth, the legend. Eddie Munson.

“Sorry, was I in your way?” he joked, extending out an arm to help her up off of the ground. She accepted it, taking his hand and feeling him yank her up with such ease that it gave her a small headrush coming up so fast.

“Sorry, I was looking at the ground,” she mumbled, following him to join him at the table.

“Yeah, I noticed you do that,” he said. Even when he didn’t mean to, everything he said sounded like flirting, and it only made her more nervous around him. He sat across from her, opening his box and keeping its contents out of view of her. “So... same as usual?”

“Mmm, I think I want more this time. How much can I get for thirty-five?” she asked, pulling a crumpled wad of cash out of her jeans pocket.

“Woah, that’s a lot. You trying to stave off our little visits?” he jokingly asked, although the fastest little glint of sadness shone in his big brown eyes.

“Oh, no, you know these are the highlights of my week,” she mused back, flashing a cheeky grin that had him smiling back immediately. He pulled a bag of bud out of his box, and it was a lot; her eyes were glued to the hefty amount of weed in the plastic bag. She could feel his stare burning her skin as she struggled to meet eyes again. “How much would I have to pay you to roll for me? I’m just not as good at it as you are.”

“Princess, you know flattery is the way to my heart,” he openly flirted, “For you? I’d roll your whole bag for free. Only price is that you’d have to pick up your goods from me later at my place, it’s gonna take some time to roll all of this up.”

The pet name caused her cheeks to burn, and he must have noticed the effect that that had on her because his grin turned deviously large. She managed to stutter out, “Y-yeah, that’d be c-cool.”

“C-cool?” he mocked, eating up her nervousness and having it boost his confidence. “Don’t tell me you're clamming up on me, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes, releasing her tension with a breathy chuckle. “Don’t play dumb with me, Munson, you know you’re hot,” she joked, hoping he would drop the subject of her anxiety if she called out the reason for it.

“You think I’m hot?” he asked. His tone had changed from his usual flirtatiousness to actual intrigue. She dropped the cash on the table in front of him, hoping to escape the mess she had created.

“So, where do you live? And when do you want me to meet you there?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, giving her a look that said, So, we’re just gonna skip over what you just admitted? Her unmoving stare answered his question and he moved on, taking her money off of the table and answering her with, “The trailer park. I’m the big silver one. Van outside. You’ll know it when you see it. And... how about nine?”

“Nine’s good,” she uttered, swiftly turning away from the table and taking off in a blushing rush, tucking her hair behind her ears as she power-walked away from the table as fast as she could.

“Alright, see you at nine, princess!” she heard Eddie call from behind.

*~*~*

Nine p.m. had finally rolled around, and she managed to find his trailer in the trailer park. She recognized his van, sweeping her fingers along the side of it as she made her way to his front door. Or, the only door of his trailer.

Admittedly, she had gotten a little dolled up. She didn’t change her outfit, for that would have been way too obvious, but she did add a touch of makeup, just enough to make her eyes pop in the way she likes and make her lip look extra kissable.

Taking in a deep breath, she knocked softly on the door three times. The third knock was cut off by the door swinging open and Eddie’s tall figure stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey there, sweet thing, you come here often?” he flirted, tilting his head to the side and looking her up and down obnoxiously. The exaggeration of his attempt at flirting drew a giggle out of her, rewarding Eddie with a sense of satisfaction at making her laugh.

“Got the goods?” she asked, taking a step towards the door, and he moved out of her way to let her in. She scanned over the piles of cassettes and VHS tapes, noting his abundance of horror movies and metal music, which she had expected. The smell of cigarettes and dust lingered in the air, which she didn’t mind at all. She’d never admit it because of all the medical propaganda her family dumped on her, but she thought it was cool that he smoked cigarettes. She had seen him lighting up a few times before in his van while leaving school, and she just couldn’t deny what seeing that little stick hanging from his lips did to her.

“Yeah, uh, sorry about the mess,” he said, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. She had never seen him be bashful before, and heart did a little leap as she had found it endearing.

“It’s fine, Eddie. I can promise my bedroom is much worse,” she joked, still looking around his trailer. She hadn’t realized it, but he noticed that that was the first time she had ever referred to him as Eddie. To everyone but his club, he was always Munson, always the freak. His heart did a leap too in that moment.

“Oh! I got your goods in here,” he said, dipping away to fetch the baggie of joints he had pre-rolled for her. Damn, he was right. That was a lot of joints. She stared at the bag in awe.

Being in his home must have given her a small sense of confidence, because she proceeded to nervously ask him, “Um... if it’s not too much to ask, would you like to smoke one with me...?”

He stared at her with an indecipherable expression. She couldn’t tell if he was deciding for or against smoking with her, and she broke eye contact and looked down as a nervous habit. She started to backtrack, “Y-you don’t have to, I just—”

“Fuck, yeah. I’d love to.” He dropped a big dimply grin, infecting her with the giggles.

He opened the bag and pulled one of the neatly rolled joints out before zipping it closed and passing it back to her. She put the baggie of joints in her bag quickly, pulling out her own small bright blue handheld lighter. She gave the lighter to Eddie before mentioning, “Don’t forget to give that back, it’s my only lighter.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess,” he answered smugly before extending an arm in a silent invitation to sit on the couch, and she obliged. She sank down on the old couch, and it felt more comfortable than her own couch at home. He plopped down next to her hard, rocking her and the couch, before holding the joint out for her to take. “You go first,” he said, tilting his head down to look at her with a devilish grin.

“Gladly,” she said, leaning forward and catching the end of the joint on her lips, taking it from him without using her hands. “Light me up?” she asked through the joint on her lips.

“Gladly,” he returned, using her wording against her. He held the little blue lighter to the end of the joint, flicking the gear and igniting it. She hovered over the flame for a moment before pulling back to breathe it in, puffing on the joint heavily before Eddie swiftly grabbed it from her lips. 

The burn in her lungs felt like a warm tingle spreading through the inside of her chest, but it was the burn in her throat that made her cough. She coughed an embarrassing amount, her face and eyes turning red from it. “Hey, it’s supposed to be puff puff pass,” she whined in a manner that conveyed she wasn’t serious, but her mangled voice was what made Eddie laugh.

He gave a dark chuckle before saying, “Like you’d say no to me, sweetheart.” He held her gaze intensely as he hit the joint, taking in a deep puff before letting out a billowing cloud of smoke, blowing the smoke into her face teasingly. She laughed at his gesture, waving away the cloud.

After they had gone back and forth, taking turns of the joint until it was just a roach, she put the roach down on the ashtray on his coffee table. Eddie had some of his music playing as they were both leaning back against the couch, heads staring at the ceiling as they felt the weed kick in.

She began to feel fuzzy, her body feeling so heavy like it was sinking further into the couch. She let out a light stoner laugh as she felt the tingles spread down to her fingertips and toes, feeling her brain swirl around like the room was spinning. The voice of her consciousness sounded out loud, and her speaking voice sounded too quiet like it was in her head. But her absolute favorite part of getting high was the sense that she truly had no other care in the world, just bliss and fuzziness and oversaturated colors. It felt like peace.

“This shit fucks so hard, Eddie,” she said, her brain confused to if she even said those words aloud.

She lazily tilted her head towards him, watching with heavy eyes as he stared at the ceiling. She couldn’t help but stare. It was definitely the weed heightening this thought, but she couldn’t help but notice how pretty he was. His big brown eyes with the long eyelashes, his dimples that suited his cheeks so well, his sharp jaw and strong chin, and oh, those plump, kissable lips.

“Eddie...?” she whispered, pulling his gaze from the ceiling to her.

“Yeah, princess?”

His eyes were so red. She would have laughed if she wasn’t about to say, “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?”

He laughed slower than usual, so she could tell he was deep in his high like she was. Their conversation felt like it was happening underwater, and his voice tickled her ears as he replied, “Damn it, babe, I was supposed to call you pretty first.”

She felt the laughter bubble in her chest first, slowly erupting from her mouth, her brain feeling disconnected from the process. “Beat you to it. Sucks to suck, Munson.”

His eyes drooped, and he glanced at her lips before looking back into her eyes. “You are, y’know. Pretty.”

She looked away out of habit before giving a huff. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” he said, turning his body so he was facing her. “I was surprised you even wanted to smoke with me. Hell, I’m surprised you even wanted to buy from me. The cute girl in my Calculus class wanted to buy from me? How did I get so lucky?”

She turned her body so she was facing him, leaning her swirling head against the couch. Her eyeballs felt fuzzy as she looked up at him with doe eyes. “You think I’m the cute girl in class? You dummy, I think you’re the cute boy in class. Why do you think I let you cheat off of my work?”

His eyes stared deeply into hers, and he glanced at her lips briefly again. This time, she returned the favor by glancing at his. She felt her heart racing in her chest, every thump echoed through her body until her extremities felt numb. He placed his large hand on the side of her face, and the coolness of the rings were like a shock to her as he swiped over her lips with his thumb. His touch felt electrifying, as if every nerve cell in her body was magnetized to his skin. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, in the softest tone she had ever heard from his lips.

“You fucking better,” she joked and was immediately pulled in. When their lips met, it felt like fireworks were going off inside of her. Tingles shot up the back of her neck and crept up the base of her skull, capturing her in pure bliss as Eddie’s lips melted into her own. She could taste the weed and hint of cigarettes in his mouth, and she could hear the heavy breathing from his nose against her face. It was all she ever dreamed of, plus some. She had never enjoyed kissing other boys, mushing mouths always felt so awkward and unnatural. But with Eddie, now, all she wanted was to feel the soft fleshy wet mess of tongue against tongue. Her heightened sensations from the weed mixed with her established crush on Eddie had her already giving out soft moans into his mouth, and she could just feel him smile against her mouth in return. She felt his big warm hands place themselves on her waist, and she leaned in further, pressing her chest against his.

She didn’t even feel when her hands had moved to grip his Hellfire Club shirt until he pulled back. “Damn, why have we never done this before?” he said in a deep husky voice.

“Because I get nervous,” she said, feeling the words spill out before she had time to think of a proper response. She looked down and fiddled with the neckline of his shirt before saying, “And because this weed’s got me feeling brave, Eddie.”

“Just how brave are we talking?” he asked, thinking she wouldn’t notice his quick glance down at her body. She did notice. In that moment, her body felt hot to the touch, and then the weed did something it had never done before. Maybe she had just never been horny and high at the same time, but the way the pot in her system sent her body into maximum overdrive at the way Eddie eyed her body had her throbbing hard in her jeans. Her nerves were ablaze everywhere, especially there, and she could just feel her underwear becoming increasingly more damp the longer she stared at him.

“Really brave,” she muttered, unable to speak above a whisper due to the intense craving her body was feeling. He flashed that dimply grin like he knew she couldn’t resist it and moved his hands to cup her face. She let her neck go lax, melting into his touch and letting him hold the weight of her head. His hands felt so hot against her face, and then he leaned in so close that his lips brushed against hers as he spoke.

“You ever fucked a future rockstar?” he inquired, his eyes looking darker and deeper than ever.

A chill ran down her spine at his words, and a let out a shaky exhale before admitting, “I’ve haven’t ever fucked.”

He immediately dropped his charismatic persona, pulling back with a look of concern in his eyes. “I’d offer, but I don’t think it would be right to... deflower you... in such a state...” He began to trail off, but she put a finger to his lips.

“Eddie, right now, I’ve never wanted anything else so god damn bad,” she said, unable to take her eyes off of his perfect plump lips. “Only reason I never have is because I’ve never liked anyone else this much.”

She watched as his lips morphed from a concerned flat line back into that devilish smile she liked to see so much. It infected her, making her smile wide as well, and the tip of her finger felt like it was buzzing as she traced along his smiling lips with her finger. The underwater feeling returned as she leaned up to bring his lips back into a kiss, laying back on the couch and pulling him down with her so that he was laying on top of her and kissing her.

“Damn, you really do get brave when you smoke,” he chuckled, and the deep chuckle rumbled in her ears as she caught his lips again, opening her mouth to invite him into hers. His tongue slid across hers, feeling hot and slimy, and she loved it, returning the gesture. She felt him slowly drop all of his body weight onto hers, and the pressure against her lower abdomen caused her to let out a small gasp into his mouth. He felt her gasp, taking a sense of pride in being the one to make her feel this way and pressed himself against her again, feeling his own excitement start to build.

She spread her knees apart, allowing him to lay between her legs, and he willingly obliged to taking the position, sliding his denim-clad crotch against hers. The friction of him pressing the seam of her jeans into her elicited the smallest moan from her, and Eddie repeated this against but harder, fulling grinding into her as their mouths danced and his clothed erection rubbed against her. Her fingers found their way into his long hair, her nails accidentally scratching against his scalp, making him groan into her mouth. The sounds and feelings that he was giving her welded together in a fuzzy entanglement, making her already spinning head feel like she was on air. She felt his warm hands snake down from her face down to the hem of her shirt, dipping his fingers underneath the fabric to brush against her hot skin. The sudden coldness of the rings made her slightly jump, and he pulled back, worry apparent on his face. His eyes nonverbally asked, Is this too much?

“Sorry, your rings are just cold,” she giggled, before taking the initiative to lift her own shirt over her head, revealing the black bra underneath. Truth be told, after school she had switched into her fancier undergarments in the hopes that something would happen between them. And she was appreciative to her past self for making that decision. He stared in awe at her chest, all pushed together by the tight black bra and looking extra plump in the dim trailer lighting. He took the chance to bury his face in her cleavage, sucking and smacking on the soft flesh, leaving little reddish purple spots in his wake, causing her to moan and lightly buck her hips up. She was already turned on, but now she just felt like an animal in heat, all wet and needy for him. He pulled a nipple out of its bra cup and took it into his mouth, swirling his tongue softly on the hardened bud, and she felt waves of tingles flow through her body, half from the high and half from the pleasure he was bringing her just from sucking on her naked skin. When she had gripped his hair so hard she was worried she’d accidentally yank it out, he grinned against her soft skin, just knowing how he was affecting her untouched body.

“That feel good, princess?” he whispered, releasing her nipple from his mouth, pulling back to look in her eyes. He had never seen her, or anyone, look so desperate and needy. Hell, she would have begged if he told her to. She looked up at him with pleading doe eyes, and he just melted at the sight. “C’mon, baby, use your words.” His deep voice dripped like honey into her ears, and she felt the shift in her core that made her need some friction down there.

She whispered back, “Please keep touching me.”

He chuckled and with a teasing voice said, “Oh, baby, you think that is me touching you? You don’t even know.”

He unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, pulling them down her thighs until she lifted her legs above his head so that he could pull them off of her calves. He threw the jeans on the floor next to her shirt, keeping her legs up with his hands. She didn’t realize she was panting as he slid his hands down her legs, letting them drop on either side of him while he gazed tenderly at her damp panties.

“Already so wet for me, baby? That’s so sweet of you,” he teased, hooking his finger under the wet patch and pulling her underwear to the side. She gawked at him unabashedly as he swiped his fingers up her wet slit, his fingers feeling cold against her heat. She whimpered at the cold sensation, accidentally bucking her hips. The high had left her brain and traveled south, making her body feel abuzz as he rubbed up and down her slit a couple of times, barely grazing the sensitive nub at the top.

“God, you’re so hot,” she heard him say, but her eyes screwed shut at the sensation of her throbbing cunt being touched so gently. When she felt a finger prod her hole, she gasped, letting him know she was very ready to be entered. A thick finger entered her, and she moaned loudly as he pushed his finger all the way in, his thumb still rubbing up and down. He slowly pulled out and pushed back in his finger, choosing to add a second one. The second finger made her feel the slight stretch, and she moaned louder at the sensation. He started pumping his fingers in and out of her, starting a new building sensation in her core. The faster he pumped, the more he bumped that sensitive nub with his thumb, and that feeling inside of her felt like something deep was about to explode. She unashamedly rutted her hips against his hand, letting out more whimpers and moans than she ever had before in her life.  And just as she teetered the edge of that sinfully delicious explosion, he stopped completely, pulling his fingers out of her and leaving her a panting, soaking mess.

Her throat hitched, releasing an audible whine, making Eddie laugh. He leaned over her, his painfully hard but fully covered erection hovering over her sopping heat, and said, “Now see, baby, that was me touching you.”

She was speechless and desperate, needing any sort of attention back on her tingling loins. “Will you please fuck me?” she timidly asked, relinquishing any morsel of control she had and completely throwing the ball in his court.

“Of course, princess,” he said with a wink. He paused to sit up and look around the small living room of the trailer before declaring, “But not here.”

“Not here?” she breathed out.

“C’mere, we’re going to my room,” he said, lifting himself quickly off of the couch before turning around to swoop down and suddenly lift her off of the cozy furniture, bridal-style. She reveled in the romance of it all, feeling most definitely like a princess with her handsome knight in shining armor, freely laughing as he carried her to his little room.

Eddie’s bedroom smelled a lot more like weed than his living room, and she could guess where he smoked most of the time. Metal and rock posters lined the walls, and towers of cassettes, books, and VHS tapes littered the floor.

He ducked down to lay her down gently on the bed before yanking his Hellfire club shirt over his head quickly and tossing it on a pile of discarded clothes on the floor. She stared at his bare torso, admiring his tattoos, and he just ate it up. He smiled before dropping himself down on the bed over her. “You ready for more, sweetheart?”

"Yes,” she blurted out with zero hesitation, eagerly nodding and eyeing the tent in his jeans hungrily. He followed her line of sight, smirking to himself when he realized she was staring straight at his boner. He leaned back, looking down to undo his jeans before he shimmied them off, letting the tent in his boxers swing free, before throwing his jeans onto the pile of clothes to join his shirt. He then resumed his place, crawling over her as she laid back on his bed, his clothed erection grazing her legs and then her abdomen as he climbed up her body. Using his forearms to hover over her, she dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him into a steamy kiss. As their mouths meshed together again, he steadily lowered himself so that their half-naked bodies were flush against each other, and she could feel his stiffness nestle right into the crotch of her panties, making her let out a shaky breath.

He slithered his large hands down her body before reaching her underwear, hooking his fingers into the sides before pulling from the kiss to ask, “Can I take these off?”

“Only if you say please,” she joked, mentally slapping herself for choosing this moment to toss in a joke. But, like the good sport he was, Eddie was quick to respond.

“Please, oh please, may I take thy panties off?” he mused back, but looked confounded when he saw her flinch. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re very hot, Eddie, but please don’t use the word panties. It just feels so weird when guys say it.”

“Panties.”

“Eddie, I’m serious. It feels icky.”

“Panties.”

“Dude!”

“Panties!” he yelled, waving his hands in her face and laughing hard at the cringing expression on her face. She couldn’t help but join in his laugh, being able to look at their conversation in a different light, and seeing how ridiculous they sounded.

She sighed, shaking her head in an endeared manner as she said, “Fine. Thou may remove mine panties,” returning the joke of Old English speak.

He gave an exaggerated groan and said, “God, you’d do so well in DnD. That’s so hot.”

“Ist thou removing mine panties, or what?” she asked flatly, hoping to get back on track to their sexual shenanigans.

“Oh! Right, yes,” he said before theatrically yanking down her underwear and tossing them over his shoulder. All of the laughing and giggling stopped when he laid eyes on her sopping cunt. She could just see his erection strain against the thin fabric of his boxers. He pulled them down, letting his boner spring free, and his length slapped against her thigh. She hadn’t expected it, but the boy was hung. She gawked at his long extremity, and he let her, taking pride in her jaw dropping. She looked back up into his eyes and smiled when he asked, “You ready?”

“Mhm,” she mumbled before wrapping her hand around his member, but he put his hand over hers to stop her, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Woah, wait, do we need a condom?” he asked, gingerly stroking his thumb over her hand.

She shook her head, “I’m on the pill, Eddie.”

He grinned in response, before taking the reins to line the tip up to her still-soaking entrance. When he started to push in, she felt the swirling feeling coming back to her head, and she couldn’t tell if she was still so high or if this was a new feeling, being already cock-drunk on Eddie. The stretch of him felt sharp for a moment, but she felt too blissful to react to it, pulling his head down to attach her lips to his once more. Their mouths hung open against each other’s as he fully sheathed himself in her, and this time she did let a small whimper of pain escape. Her pain immediately dissolved into pleasure as she adjusted to his size.

When he began to move inside of her, starting slow as he pulled out and pushed back in ever so gently, she was still a moaning mess, moaning against his open mouth.

“That feel good, baby?” he asked, and his words had never felt so sugary sweet. All she could do was moan in response, her moan raising in pitch as it caught in her throat. He broke their kiss to watch her face, her expression conveying euphoria as he slid in and out of her. Her tight walls felt so good on his cock; he would have finished then and there if he wasn’t so focused on her. He snuck a hand down between their bodies, searching for her sensitive little nub, and once he found it and began drawing small circles around it with his finger, she could feel that building sensation return. And he could tell from her moans getting progressively louder. He wanted her first time to be everything she could have wished for, so he started to pick up his pace and thrusted harder and faster into her, keeping his finger steady on her clit.

Sparks were shooting through her body, centered around her lower abdomen, and she wrapped her legs around Eddie to keep him closer, even though she knew he wasn’t going anywhere. The steady circling around her clit became sloppy as he let himself pound into her hard, and she felt his member reach impossible depths inside of her. The faster and harder pace of his cock sliding in and out of her, stretching her from the inside out, had her digging her nails hard into Eddie’s shoulder blades as she felt her hips begin to chase that tension building in her. She let herself get lost in the pleasure of it all, the tingles in her brain all the way down to her fingers and toes mixed with the waves of pleasure coming from her abdomen had her toes curling and her eyes squeezed shut. She felt her walls begin to squeeze tighter as the tension inside of her began to reach its peak, like a string about to snap.

She suddenly felt her face being grabbed by a strong hand, her jaw entirely encapsulated. “Look at me,” his voice demanded, and she opened her eyes pitifully, giving him the eye contact he wanted. Eddie had always been so silly, such a tease. It was shocking yet so deeply arousing to hear such sternness in his voice. “I wanna see it in your face when I make you come.”

“Eddie,” she whimpered, “I think I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby, I can feel it. Be a good girl and come for me.”

And with his words, that string inside of her snapped, and she let out a squealing moan as she experienced her orgasm in waves, feeling her walls pulsate and stretch over his cock while her body went completely lax. He continued to pound through it all, letting out aggressive grunts as he thrusted through the clenching of her walls, giving her continuous echoes of her orgasm until his pace stuttered. He released a gentle moan with his own release, prolonging it with extra pushes into her until he felt his own hot liquid seep out of her tight hole that was clenched around his member. He pulled out slowly, and she whined at the sudden emptiness inside of her.

“God damn,” he huffed with a tired smile before dropping his body onto hers, burying his face in her naked chest. She giggled at this, playing with his hair and scratching her nails over his scalp.

They stayed like that for a good long moment, basking in their post-coital bliss, until she noticed the clock next his bed. She read the time with a gasp. “Oh my god, it’s like three in the morning! Shit, I gotta get home.”

They climbed out of Eddie’s bed reluctantly, gathering their clothes from his bedroom floor and from the living room floor. They hadn’t spoken a word yet, both too nervous to wreck the good thing they had going, until Eddie couldn’t take the tension anymore. “Okay, so... I guess I’ll see you on Monday?” he asked, not sure of what to say but wanting to desperately to beg to spend more time with her.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, before pausing a long moment to suggest, “or we could hang out like tomorrow, or technically later today... Uh, if you’re not busy...”

He absolutely beamed at her words. She did want to spend more time with him. He felt excitement blossom in his chest as their little situation felt like the beginning of something special. “Tomorrow—er, later today—would be awesome.”

She let out a nervous, breathy chuckle. “Cool.”

“Cool,” he repeated back to her. They fell into silence again, but it was comfortable silence this time.

“I, uh,” she began, gesturing to the door.

“Oh! Yes, of course,” he said, stepping out of her way and opening the door for her. When he opened the door, the cold night air hit her like a ton of bricks and she shivered, regretting leaving her sweater in class earlier that day.

He witnessed her slight shiver, instantly saying, “Wait right here,” before dipping away to grab something from his bedroom. He came back with his iconic denim and leather jacket, offering it to her. “It’s really cold out tonight,” he shrugged, like giving her his jacket was no big deal.

“I can’t take your jacket,” she said, attempting to politely decline.

He hung it on her shoulders and said, “Well, you can give it back later,” both as a way to make her more comfortable but also as a way to express that he hopes she sticks to their plans.

“Okay,” she breathed, “and you’ll have to give back my lighter.”

And with that, she was on her way home with plans to see Eddie tomorrow.

*~*~*

A/N: my first Eddie fic !!! Part of me wants to do a part 2 so bad, but pls let me know how u feel about it omg <3 lov u guys

[dilfhos]

TRAINRIDE

#!WHO; DABI x fem!READER

A! i hope u ignore this cus its stupid but I think dabi/touya being a total scum to huge endeavor fan reader should be a thing

+ (i added my twist to it; at the time this was sent, i was on my dc shit heavy and id already started it)

#!CW: deadoves!n0nc0n, dirty talk, degradation, humiliation, implied exhibitionism, gaslighting, touya arc if you squint real close! dabi has dick piercings bc i said so

tagging: @mostlyheinous @scariusaquarius @dabislittlemouse @nyx--knacks @the-grimm-writer @ectologia

Dabi hated taking public transportation, especially now.

It subjected him to having to conceal his identity for one, blending into the fleeting crowds with dark, long clothing. It didn’t bother him as much had it been any other time, one where he wasn’t on constant guard or easily irritated by familiar phrases and his face.

Dabi only gave a quick glance to the glass behind him, eyeing the way his big hood hung low on his head, hand deep into his trench pocket as the other supported his balance. He drew his hood lower at the glance from a man on his left.

The train eased to a stop and the doors slid open as the crowd swarmed to bring in and send out more people. When the doors closed and the train began to move again, he found himself being thrown forward. A small yelp came from the woman in front of him, turned partially.

He was about to mumble something before his eyes made contact with what she was wearing.

Seeing that you were brazenly adorned in merchandise of the number one hero, he scrunched his nose up at the sight of your complimentary accessories before finally settling on your face. Preoccupied with your phone to notice his oggling, you shifted, body moving with the force of the train as it started moving.

Dabi didnt mean to look, but the subtle quake of your chest piqued his vision and he wished he wasn’t met with those same fucking eyes. How cringe you looked with the familiar navy phone-case you had on the back of your phone to match.

In fact, if Dabi wanted to, he’d stand there and count every one of Endeavor’s paraphernalia and the number could be well over three. You really walk around like that? Parading your favorite hero on your body like a fangirl poster.

He chuckled darkly before rolling his eyes. Yeah, you probably had one or two of them in your room that you fuck yourself to at night to boot.

The train was only a little crowded but not enough to fully obscure your body from his view. You were dressed in jeans, the denim pairing with a snug t-shirt that sculpted your chest perfectly under his gaze. On the back he could see the familiar bright flames. They were disgustingly familiar, completing the stoic features of the hero on the front.

“Endeavor, huh?” You finally glanced up, a bit surprised to find barely anyone on board at this point. A few men sat adjacent, some sleep, others occupied on their own devices and papers or simply dead in gaze as they awaited their respective stops.

Then him, of course.

Turning fully around you face the source of the comment and your heart began to hammer.

Under a subtle glance or two, he didn’t look too out of the ordinary. Dark pants, shoes and a coat on his back, he could’ve as easily passed for some unremarkable human being cold and exhausted from days events. However, under the certain proximity, you had a clear view of his face, unmistakably his metal-littered, scarred face and the dangerously piercing gaze to match.

You parted your lips but he held up a finger, silencing you before you could squeak a sound. He glanced around toward the few other occupants in the car, noting them to be of no significance until his eyes returned back to yours, the silent threat of impending danger weighing heavily in the air around you.

“Are you-are you going to kill me?” You finally said, voice sickeningly timid. Wide eyes peered up at him, height clearing yours as he slowly backed you towards the side of the car.

“He your favorite hero?” Dabi ignored your question, eyes flickering to your chest before his hand followed. You squeaked in surprise as he boldly placed his hand against your breast.

Jerking away, you prepare to to defend yourself when he gripped your wrist.

“To answer the question, I’m not gonna kill you. ‘M just gonna hurt you real bad though,” You’re spun before another word is uttered, the rattling of metal against wheels loud enough to drown your protests.

“Please don’t do this,” His hands were exploring your body, running up your thighs and cruelly pinching at the skin on your sides before settling on the hem of your jeans.

“Please don’t,” You whimpered shakily, meeting the villain’s eyes in the glass.

“I just feel like ya personally insulting me y’know?” He grunted over the sound of his belt clinking. His hand was back on your side now, nails digging into the meat of the exposed skin until drawing a wince.

Dabi shuffled forward until your hands were pressed against the wall of the train, steadying yourself. His other made quick work of yanking down your jeans until they rested around your thighs, panties on display before his hungry gaze.

“D-don’t. I’ll scream.” By now, you’d been reduced to a whimpering, teary-eyed mess, your frantic gaze shifting through the other riders for a witness to what was going on.

But they were all too preoccupied to care.

“Yeah, for who?” The passengers that did notice were the wrong ones.

You met the greedy eyes of the man closest to you and the way his own dropped down to your connected bodies. Dabi was quick to notice that and chuckled before leaning down toward your ear.

“Still your idol, doll? This is his society, you know? The one on your ridiculously, ugly top,” He snickered, his fingers hooking into the side of your panties.

Before you could cry out, his scarred hand clamped over your mouth at the same time as his cock breached your cunt. You tensed, nothing escaping you but a muffled gasp as he shoved himself past your tight ring of resistance. Your eyes were wide, peering back at you in the glass, reflecting off of the pain and horror present.

“Mm, so tight.” He licked the shell of your ear and you release a shuddering sob. He began a snappy, brutal pace, the thick cock dragging heavily through your dry walls. Every time he pulled away, you felt every vein, every metallic orb scraping against gummy insides.

He slammed back into you at the same time the train screeched over rusted tracks, grunting with every stroke, his thin hip bones snapping against your ass.

His grip was bruising as he held onto your waist, his wrist only flicking to push and pull you back onto his dick. His other hand remained pressed against your mouth to muffle your cries and moans. You reached behind to at least try and push him away, alleviate the grating pain he was causing but your attempts were laughable as he only slapped away your efforts.

Dabi sped up, stumbling forward until your front was pressed against the metal interior, body squished between hot and cool. The hand over your mouth dropped to hang loosely around your neck, tilting your head back to meet his. The hood over his head only served to make him all the more menacing with the shadow that casted over his grotesque features.

“What do you think Mr. Endeavor would say if he saw his biggest fan being defiled like this? Probably be disgusted huh? I mean, allowing a complete stranger to fuck you on public transportation.” Your eyes closed as you imagined the twisted look of repulsion on your favorite hero and the image brought you to more tears.

You hiccupped as he trailed fingers down in between your legs to brush against your clit, missing the way his grin widened at the way you suddenly tense up. You released a pained moan at the way your pussy clamped down on him.

“So sensitive,” He chuckled at the way you try and bite down your orgasm. He could feel you start to relax, your cunt pulsating around him as your juices started to slick him up.

Overhead, the sound of the loudspeaker crackling at the next stop had Dabi’s eyes glancing up, as if now aware of the time. Releasing you, his hand fell to your other hip where his blunt nails dug as his pace quickened.

“Stop’s coming up,” He mumbled. You didn’t really hear him though. You were busy trying not to give in to the way his cock was filling you up, the pain parting into pleasure, your juices beginning to fall and squish around his dick.

Your head hung low; you couldn’t even look at your reflection in the glass anymore, at the way your brows furrowed over glossy, blown eyes. The way your wet lips part to release silent moans. You were despicable. You couldn’t call yourself a fan of the great Endeavor anymore, not after this.

Not after him.

Dabi’s feet planted firmly, his hips suddenly stuttering to a halt. He was quick to conceal your squeal with his hand again as his dick twitched in your cunt. Your teary eyes widened as you felt warmth flooding you, too horrified to even move save for your trembles.

He was still going, slowly rutting his nut back into you with shallow strokes. It was only until you heard a chime overhead that he pulled away with a content sigh.

Dabi eyed the way his cum was beginning to seep down your thighs, dripping into your bunched up jeans and an idea formed in his head, one that had him grinning sadistically.

A moment later your trembling legs finally gave way allowing you to sink onto the floor.

He began to fix himself, adjusting the hood on his head. He threw a cocky salute to the man eyeballing him earlier and a final disgusted look down at those eyes on your shirt. He then shook his head with a forming smile, walking away and leaving you on the floor of the cold train. The whooshing of the doors were deafening in your ears as you looked up to greedy eyes.

Back at the hero agency, Endeavor’s phone lit up and a notification from an unknown number had his brows furrowed in confusion at the link. His scowl only deepened after further investigation.

DILFOS. do not plagiarize my content—current or archival.

[atlasofthestaars]

Can you write something where the reader is sick, and their love interest Smoke helps take care of them? Thank you!

NOTE: IM SO SORRY HOW LONG THIS TOOK ANON </3 ITS FINALLY HERE

Tried to make this lighthearted and funny!

Sorry this is really short (or short for how long you waited for this) </3 I wanted to finally get this out and I couldn’t think of much to extend this

SICK DAYS [SMOKE X READER]

Colds were perhaps the worst thing ever.

Okay, you were being dramatic. You’d never admit that outloud, and especially in this state, but you were. They definitely weren’t the worst thing ever, but you loathe being sick. It sucked the life out of you, it made you miserable, and everyone wanted to avoid you. Not to mention, even after the worst is over, you’d be left with sniffles and coughs for an unreasonable amount of time.

Why couldn’t being sick just be a one day deal? It was all too easy to get sick anyways, one tiny mistake then you were suddenly down on your luck and getting sick. It didn’t help that you were staying in possibly the worst place right now to deal with a cold. The Lin Kuei temple was not the best place with its freezing temperatures to recover from a cold. 

Haha, cold. Cruel irony.

Grumbling, you sighed as you pulled the covers over yourself, curling into a tight ball as you closed your eyes. This way, you’d be warmer. And then maybe, just maybe, you could sleep and wake up and suddenly be better. It was definitely wishful thinking, but it was better than nothing.

Sadly, your plan was thwarted in a matter of minutes.

The door of your room opened, shining the light leaking in from the hallway directly on your face. You flinched at the sudden change in light, a frown tugging harder at your lips. It was as if the elder gods were mocking you. They enjoyed your pain, surely. 

You squinted open your eyes, nearly hissing at the light. Your grumpiness was somewhat quelled as you noticed just who was the figure who had decided to disrupt your attempt to hibernate your way into wellness. 

Tomas, the light of your life. Not that he knew it, nor did you ever mention it to him.

You blinked, focusing on his form which was being outlined by the light outside. By the elder gods, it was making him look like an angel. Not that you didn’t think he wasn’t an angel already, but now he especially looked like one. Especially when you spotted the things he was carrying in his hands.

Water and soup. 

Nevermind, maybe the elder gods were blessing you today. Maybe they pitied your sickly state, so they sent an angel to nurse you back to health. Surely that must be it.

“Are you feeling better?” Tomas asked as he set down the bowl of soup and water on the nightstand. He then knelt next to your bed. You tried to take a sniff of the soup, before remembering sorrowfully that your nostrils were clogged. You mourned the loss of smell, suddenly. 

“I think I’m dying.” You croaked out, using your status as a sick person to be even more dramatic than usual. It was a treat to yourself, to help you cope with your status. You groaned as you shifted in bed, wanting the pain of being sick to end already. You glanced at the soup and water, before glancing back at Smoke to see his reaction.

“You wouldn’t be dying if you didn’t go out in the snow like I warned you not to.” Tomas chided you, yet at the same time he had a smile on his face, and a playful note to his voice. You stared at his face, making sure to commit it to memory. It was going to be one of the few things that was going to get you through this sickness.

Or the last thing you remembered before you passed away from this illness like a sickly Victorian child.

“Well I’m not a coward.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you recalled how you had brazenly rushed out into the snow. You were too overjoyed by the snowfall to bundle up. Plus, you weren’t out there for too long, you assumed nothing was going to happen to you.

Maybe pride was your downfall. 

“But you are sick now.” Tomas quipped back, raising his eyebrows to emphasize his point. You grumbled, not thinking of a proper comeback to his statement. You blinked in surprise as you felt his hand brush over your forehead. You were glad your face was already flushed from sickness so your blush didn’t stick out. “Seems you don’t have a fever.” 

“Yeah.” You said, stunned for a moment as you recalled his gentle touch as he retracted his hand. You didn’t care how warm your sickness was making you feel, you missed the soft warmth from his hand. You cleared your throat as you glanced at the bowl. “So, what type of soup did you bring?” You asked, all too curious.

You were shocked to hear it was your favorite soup. He had brought you your favorite soup when you were sick to make you feel better. You closed your eyes for a second, to thank the elder gods above that you had met this man.

If it weren’t for your sickness, you’d kiss the man.

That, and well, you were too much of a coward to tell him your feelings. 

“Did you hear me?” You were taken out of your stupor, looking at the man as you furrowed your eyebrows, trying to recall if you had processed what he said. You were thankful he was patient as he repeated himself. “Are you well enough to feed yourself?”

“What.”

“Come on, sit up.” He urged you. Confused, you sat up. You reached out to grab the stack of tissues on your nightstand and blew into it. While you didn’t find it dignified to blow your stuffy nose in front of your crush, you found it was far less embarrassing than to drip snot in front of him. You grimaced as you tossed the tissue into the trash can. As you looked up, you were surprised to see a spoon of your favorite soup hovering in front of your face. “Here.”

“Huh.” You said, dumbfounded. Maybe the sickness was taking your intelligence too, because it felt like right now all you could muster were confused sounds and words. You blinked as you watched Tomas nod towards you, gently lifting the spoon closer to your mouth. Panicking, you leaned forward and ate the soup.

How is it that him being here made your favorite soup just a bit better?

“Good.” Tomas praised, and you felt yourself flush at the simple word. Does he know how much you adored him? No, and you doubted how much even these simple actions meant to you. Happily, he seemed to urge you to eat more, and you complied. You were not going to pass up on this opportunity to bask in his attention. “You know, I worry for you, sometimes. No one in their right mind would normally run into the snow like that.”

“I’m not a fragile baby.” You huffed stubbornly, sniffing. Yet on the inside you were fawning. He worried for you. Maybe it’s because he thought you were insane, but he worried for you! That had to mean something, right? The gray clad man shot you a look, and you pouted. “Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean anything.”

“Uh huh.” Smoke replied, sass in his tone. Still, he gave you a radiant smile as he continued to feed you soup. You felt on top of the world. If only you didn’t feel miserable otherwise, you’d consider getting sick more often so you could bask in his attention.

You glanced at Smoke’s face.

Nevermind, you would gladly trade your health if you could continue to be pampered by this man.

You had several blissful minutes of Smoke feeding you soup. As you finished the bowl, he let out a satisfied hum as he set the emptied bowl on the nightstand next to you. You also drank more from the glass of water he brought.

You were feeling a bit better already! Or maybe that was just the effect Smoke had on you. You weren’t certain which one it was. Maybe it was both.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.” Tomas said, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You were so, so lucky to know this man. You inhaled, holding your breath as he pressed his hand to your forehead again. His touch lingered longer this time. And you weren’t sure if you were being delusional or not when you swore his thumb brushed your cheek. “Good, no fever.” He murmured, though you weren’t sure why he checked again.

Still, with the way he was looking at you, you had no room to question or complain about that. Certainly he just wanted to make sure you were feeling better. 

You sat there, taking in the sight of Tomas. His warm, gray eyes. His nice, fluffy hair that you always had to hold yourself back from playing with. Your eyes traced over his cheekbones down to his chin, and for the most briefest of seconds, you gazed at his lips.

Why did you have to be sick!?

“Did you take any medicine yet?” He asked, peering at you curiously. You froze, completely forgetting that medicine was a thing. You had just been planning on honestly sleeping this stupid sickness off. Medicine would have definitely helped.

“Uh, no.” You admit, sheepishly. You watched as Smoke playfully rolled his eyes before pulling out a small bottle from his pocket. 

“Good thing I brought some for you.” Smoke said, an almost smug tone in his voice. He poured out two pills, and glanced at you. “I know you too well.” He shook the bottle in his hand as if to emphasize the point.

There was something all too sweet in his voice that made you want to swoon and fall into his arms.

He held out his hand, the two small pills in his palms. Quickly, you reached for them. You ignored the rising heat to your face as your hand brushed his. You really, really wanted to hold his hand. They felt warm and soft.

You felt his expectant eyes on you as you reached for the last of your water. You popped the two pills in your mouth, and you quickly tilted your head back as you took a mouthful of water. You swiftly swallowed, and you let out a sigh as the pills disappeared into your stomach.

“Thank you, Tomas.” You croaked out, and immediately wanted to slap yourself for. Why did your voice have to give out on you on what was supposed to be such a heartfelt moment? Your worries all melted away as he shot you the most beautiful grin you’ve seen in your life.

“Anything for you.” Tomas said, his voice gentle and soft. He said your name with reverence, as if you were the most important thing. He grabbed your hand. And held it carefully between his own. Your eyes dropped to his hand holding, and it felt like the wind was knocked out of you. You weren’t sure if you could pass off the heat on your cheeks as you simply being sick.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Snapping out of your daze, you looked up to see Smoke’s intent gaze on you. You opened your mouth, trying to come up with the correct answer. You certainly couldn’t say that you were too busy swooning over the man to hear what he said. But you couldn’t just say anything because then it’d be obvious you hadn’t been paying attention.

And yet, it didn’t matter.

“You’re too cute.” Tomas said softly, and you suddenly wondered if you had been dreaming all this all this time. Getting up, he leaned over and gently pressed a featherlight kiss onto your forehead. He then drew back with a soft smile. “Get some rest, okay?” He murmured, cupping your cheek gently, rubbing his thumb against it before letting go.

You watched wordlessly as he gathered the bowl and water glass. He turned around and sent you another sweet smile. And you swore in his eyes he had the hint of the smuggest attitude you’ve ever seen on him as he looked you up and down.

He must know how much you adored him. That bastard.

As the door closed, you sat in silence as your face continued to burn. Your heart was beating far too fast for what was healthy for a sick person. You lifted your hand to brush against where his lips had met your forehead, and you felt like you were falling in love all over.

Maybe being sick wasn’t so bad.

“Look who’s the reckless one, now?”

You grinned as you entered Tomas’ room, a bowl of soup and a glass of water in your hands. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the eye roll he sent you as he blew his nose. Still, he sent you a weak smile as he laid in his bed. He didn’t catch your sickness as bad as you, but he was still sick regardless. Bumping into the door, you closed it as you approached him.

“Maybe it was reckless, but the look on your face was worth it.” Smoke said, a hint of smugness in his voice as he smiled at you. You scoffed, but you knew you couldn’t even fake being mad at this man. Setting down the bowl of soup and the water, you sat on his bed beside him.

“Was it worth it?” 

“Anything is worth it if it involves you.”

Sighing dreamily, you cupped his cheek as you leaned forward to press a soft kiss on his lips. You marveled as his face bloomed into a soft pink. He held your hand in place, leaning into your soft touch. Your heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t think you should be kissing sick people.” Smoke teased, his eyes squinting at you as his eyebrows raised. You rolled your eyes. Raising your hand, you pinched his other cheek, eliciting an exaggerated ‘ouch’ from the man.

“Says you.” You huffed, pouting. 

“My bad.” Tomas chuckled. “I really couldn’t resist though.” He admitted as he looked up at you. Why did he have to have the dreamiest eyes in all of Earthrealm? You returned his smile, rubbing his cheek gently with your thumb. 

Yeah, getting sick wasn’t so bad after all.

[honeybeefae]

Pretty Little Tears (Rhysand x Reader)

KINKTOBER DAY NINE: TEARS

Summary// He knew you could take him deeper. You were doing so well. It was taking all of your strength not to throw up as Rhys forced himself down your throat more and more, but when those tears started to roll down your face, smearing your makeup, he felt something primal stir deep inside of him. And he wanted more.

(This is definitely one of the shorter fics for Kinktober as well as ending in an ambiguous way, I hope you guys still like it. I’m not 100% confident with it but I’ve edited it to hell and back so I think this is the best I am going to get. Enjoy! :))

WARNINGS:  18+, Smut, Degradation, Crying Kink, rough BJ, gagging

Your mate had been staring at you all night, the risque dress you were dawning barely leaving anything to the imagination. It was something you saved only for your visits to the Hewn City as it helped you get into your role of the wife of Rhysand, ruler of the Court of Nightmares. 

It was a part you were new to, trying your best to match Rhys’s mask. The hardest thing was watching, and sometimes participating, in dueling out punishments for the wicked people that resided here. A part of you would feel guilty hearing their pleas and cries but knowing what they did, the innocent people who they tortured or hurt, made it easier to swallow.

Tonight was no different, though you had not heard any report of trouble so far. Everyone was dining and dancing in somewhat peace. Mor was off to the side with Cassian chatting about something, Azriel dwelling in the shadows, while you danced within the arms of one of your cousins as your mate watched from his throne above.

“You look lovely tonight, Y/N.” Your cousin, Dephren, commented. He was a head taller than you, with hair just like yours, but as wicked as they came. You would even say he could rival Mor’s father, Keir, in his attempts to gain power in the court. “I am glad to see our High Lord is keeping you in good health.”

“As am I.” You said curtly, glancing at Rhys briefly as you twirled across the floor. “I have much to be grateful for from him.”

“That you do, cousin. I must ask, though, are you sure you are satisfying him?” He asked, his eyes full of cruel mirth. “I would never insult you but I do worry about my Lord, and I as well as many others truly wonder if you are the right person for him.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the other vultures of the court leering at you and eavesdropping on the conversation. It must have been talked about beforehand as someone had called away Rhys so that he was not within earshot to hear the slander they were saying.

You suddenly found yourself floundering like a fish out of water, the facade you put up cracking just the slightest bit, as Dephren spun you round and round.

“I will take your silence as answer enough.” He smirked, tightening his grasp on your hands as the music finally came to a stop. Everyone started politely clapping, gearing up for another song as your cousin bowed mockingly in your direction. “I think Remia would be a better fit for him, she certainly seems to be able to keep his attention.”

Remia was the daughter of one of Keir’s closest allies and a great beauty in the Hewn City. She was also as vicious and hungry as the rest of them, willing to follow whatever orders it took to rise above and look down on the people below. You knew your family was bitter about your new life, about how their weakest child found herself mated to the High Lord himself and cut all ties to her family. 

However, you didn’t expect them to try and cast you aside so brazenly. It had you cursing at how naive you were, how you thought there was no threat to you anymore now that you were happy and loved. 

His words cut through your skin like a knife as you turned to look at your mate, mouth tightening at the egregious display of affection Remia was showering him with. Mor and Cassian had picked up that something was amiss, picking up the tail end of your cousin's words and following your eyes to Rhys.

Before you could turn around and say anything to him, Mor was at your side with a glare that could turn a man to stone. “How bold of you to say the things you do about Rhysand’s mate, Dephren.” She hissed, placing herself in front of you. “Perhaps you would like to speak louder for him to hear?”

“Mor.” He nodded, forcing a polite smile. “I meant no to disrespect to Y/N, I assure you. I was simply pointing out a concern most of us have, isn’t that one of her duties?”

She opened her mouth to lay in on him but you put a hand on her shoulder, squaring your shoulders and stepping around her to stand toe to toe with him. You could sense Rhysand in your mind wondering what had drawn the crowd but you shut him out. This was something you needed to handle yourself. 

What you said next, how you handled this test of disrespect, would dictate how everyone saw you. You needed to be equally as fearsome as your mate if you were going to rule beside him. 

“My duty, Dephren, is not for you to question.” You challenged loudly, your voice echoing off of the mountain walls for the entire court to hear. “I can assure you that your High Lord is very satisfied with the way I fuck him. Not that it is any of your business nor whatever whore you’ve sent his way to try and distract him.”

Rhysand appeared behind you, darkness surrounding him as Dephren shrunk back in fear. You smirked as one of his hands slunk around your waist and pulled you into his side, his nose dipping into your hair as you refused to break eye contact.

You had everyone's attention now and while as before you would have shrunk back from it, now you wore it like a crown. They should be the scared ones and from the looks on their faces, it seemed that they realized what monster they awoke.

As you stood straighter and held your higher you could feel your mate's approval. Not only was he proud of you but you could feel his caress in the back of your mind, and could hear the lustful thoughts that flickered through his mind as you took a couple of steps forward. He liked this version of you.

“I find it funny cousin that you call my relationship into question when I highly doubt your wife could say the same about your performance, don’t you think?” You taunted, raising your eyebrow as his face turned a fierce shade of red. 

The people behind him started to whisper and chuckle while his wife took a huge gulp of wine, trying to remain invisible. You weren’t done humiliating him though, he needed to be an example to the rest of them.

“What’s the nickname she gives you to her friends? Minute man?”  The question was rhetorical as your smirk grew, hearing Rhys’s voice in the back of your mind.

I didn’t know you could be so cruel, Y/N. This poor man is about to throw himself down the side of the mountain if you continue any longer.

Hopefully, the lesson is almost learned then. I would hate to have to repeat myself.

His fingers tightened on your hip in approval, satisfied to watch you work. Dephren was a shadow of the man he was ten minutes earlier as you left your mate’s hold to stand over him. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did but you didn’t want to feel guilty now. He deserved it.

“Kneel.” You commanded, voice velvety smooth. It was only one word but it held so much power and control you couldn’t help but feel drunk off of it. “Kneel and apologize and I might forget this conversation ever happened.”

And to your surprise, he wasted no time in complying with your request. His knees hit the floor hard as he knelt at your feet, lowering his head in submission. 

“Please, Y/N, forgive me.” Dephren squeaked. “I beg of you.”

You turned to Rhysand, tilting your head in question to see what he thought. He gestured towards you before crossing his arms over his chest and smiling darkly, enjoying the show. 

“Just remember, my dear Dephren, who I am.” You warned, your voice like ice as you glanced around at the rest of the spectators. “As shall the rest of you. I do not forget and the next person I hear, or even think, of such slander, I shall have their tongues and their minds.” 

Your skirts swished around your feet as your turned and grabbed Rhys’s hand, letting him lead you to the throne and adorn his lap as Dephren swiftly stood and disappeared into the background. There was a beat of silence before the music started back up and everyone returned to their respective places. 

It was taking all of your concentration to control your breathing and not break out in a sweat as your adrenaline came crashing down. You didn’t recognize the woman saying those things as you replayed it over and over in your mind. It was as if you had been possessed by someone else.

You were wonderful, Y/N. You had me utterly entranced with your performance.

His hands grazed up your bare legs, catching on the sheer fabric as he reached the crest of your hips. It was a delicate touch that sent the filthiest thoughts into your head. You craved more, your breathing evening out as he went higher and higher until he caressed the side of your breast. 

Goosebumps erupted across your skin as you turned to look into his violet eyes, your face flushed with desire. You were as bewitched by him as he was with you, licking your lips hungrily as he scowled at Keir who was waiting for the two of you to notice him.

“What is it now?” Rhysand snapped, holding you tighter as you began to kiss up his neck. You usually weren’t one for huge public displays of affection but with what happened tonight, it was like you were a new woman. 

A hungry, aching woman.

As Keir began his question about one of the other people in the room you tuned him out, your sex slickening as you began to grow impatient at Rhys’s lack of attention toward you. His hand still rested on your hip, rubbing small, enticing circles as he droned on and on.

It was only after a few minutes you decided to take matters into your own hand. You did not know if you were feeding off the raw power you had just realized you held or if it was simply adrenaline, but whatever it was it had you worked into a frenzy. 

Rhys…

Though his eyes never left Keir's, he tensed ever so slightly under your touch. You knew you had his full attention. While maintaining a bored expression on your face, you began to show him all the multiple times you had pleased him. It started off with just small glimpses of skin and soft moans but as your impatience grew, you sent him much more vulgar things.

And when you whispered into his mind just how wet you were with the picture of you exploring yourself, you felt his resolve snap underneath you like a twig.

“Do I not have you here to maintain order while I am away, Keir? Are you not able to handle things?” Rhysand snarked, raising an eyebrow as you both stood abruptly. “You bore myself and Y/N with these meaningless conflicts. If you cannot control them by yourself perhaps your leadership needs to be questioned.”

Keir immediately bowed his head while muttering apology after apology. “I did not mean to bore, my lord, nor Lady Y/N. I was simply-”

Rhys clicked his tongue, silencing the steward swiftly. “And yet you continue to do so. We will be taking our leave now but I will be returning within the next few days. I suggest you make sure everyone is on their best behavior…otherwise you might find yourself on the edge of the sword.”

“Yes, of course.” He replied with gritted teeth. Mor, Azriel, and Cassian were already gone by the time you were leaving the grand room. You smiled coyly at your mate, licking your lips as he pulled you flush against his body.

“Do not play modest with me, darling. I saw every single thought in that pretty, filthy head of yours.” Rhys smirked, already half hard from just remembering them. “If you think you are getting off easy tonight you are sadly mistaken.”

“I don’t want you to be easy tonight.” You cooed, gazing at him through your lashes. “I want you to make me scream so loud that everyone in the Hewn City knows who was right tonight.”

His eyes darkened and before you could blink you were plunged into darkness, appearing in your shared bedroom moments later. You gasped when you were shoved roughly against the door but his lips smothered yours before you could say anything else.

You melted into him, your tongue dancing with his while your hands found purchase in his hair. It was soft against your fingers, which tightened into fists when he wedged his thigh between your legs. The friction was heavenly as you had soaked through your panties, your dress allowing him easy access.

“Is that all for me?” Rhys purred into your ear, biting down on your lobe before kissing and nipping his way back to your lips. You nodded, too out of breath to say anything, to which he smiled devilishly. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already speechless.”

The air around you was thick with need as you grabbed one of his hands and placed it on your breast, your hips rutting against his leg. “Are you just going to talk or will I see any action from you, my lord?”

Rhysand couldn’t help but grin at your words. Even pinned against the wall, pussy dripping for him, you found a way to smart off to him. It was one of the things he loved you for, the fire within you.

With one push off the wall, he separated your bodies and crossed his arms over his chest. “Take it off. Now.”

Your heart fluttered at his change of tone, fingers trembling in excitement as you started to pull down the straps of your dress. You knew that your words had awoken that dark, sadistic streak he kept carefully locked away. It was something you didn’t get to see often but tonight you wanted it. 

You wanted him to use you for pleasure, to let him so thoroughly fuck you that there was no doubt left that only you could bring him to that level of ecstasy. It seemed that Dephren’s words had indeed got under your skin but hopefully this would ease it.

Rhysand knew it as well. He had wanted to torture the greasy, traitorous man as soon as he pieced together what happened but you took over effortlessly, showing everyone in that room who you could be even though his words made you question.

His cock throbbed at the memory of you standing over Dephren, at just how utterly sexy you were at that moment. 

As you let the dress fall into a pool of silk at your feet, the cool breeze making goosebumps rise on your arms and your nipples harden, the wetness between your legs only grew. It felt like it was dripping down at this point.

“Kneel.” He commanded, beginning to undo the strings of his pants while you immediately sunk to your knees. You bit down on your lip as he put two fingers under your chin, tilting it up upwards at him. “Such a good girl.”

One of his hands gripped his thick, heavy cock while the other gathered your hair into his fist. You swallowed in anticipation, both of your hands on your thighs as you opened your mouth wide for him. Just as he liked it.

Rhys growled as he slapped the head of his dick on your tongue, coating your lips with the precum that had already gathered at the tip before he thrust into your mouth with no warning. You instinctively gagged, your throat tightening around him while your hands flew to his thighs to steady yourself.

“Just like that, darling.” He grunted as he slowly fucked your mouth, his balls hitting your chin with every thrust. 

You followed his lead as much as you could, your scalp burning as he tugged and pushed as he pleased. His cock was hard to fit fully in your mouth but you did your best, licking the underside every time he pulled out to drive him crazy. 

Drool was escaping the seal of your lips around him, running down your chin and onto your bare chest. The moonlight shone against it, catching his attention and spurring him on even more as he truly used you to get off.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it Y/N?” Rhys taunted, his pupils blown wide in lust as you gargled around his length. “You crave to be used like this, for my pleasure. You want me to treat you like the secret whore you are.”

A nod was all you could muster as he pushed further and further into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and cutting off your airway. It made you lightheaded which only seemed to enhance your feelings, one of your hands dropping to your cunt so you could thrust two fingers inside.

He laughed deeply at your desperation, enjoying the way you struggled to breathe from how far his cock was in your mouth. It was almost all the way in when you started to push against his leg in a warning. You were going to have to come up for air soon.

However, he knew you could take him deeper. You were doing so well. It was taking all of your strength not to throw up as Rhys forced himself down your throat more and more, but when those tears started to roll down your face, smearing your makeup, he felt something primal stir deep inside of him. And he wanted more.

With an audible pop, he pulled himself out, your lungs burning as you coughed and sputtered. You were still slightly dizzy from the lack of oxygen when two hands hoisted you up and turned you so that you were facing your mate.

“Look at you…” Rhysand praised, smearing your mascara underneath his thumb as another tear ran down your face. “Perfectly ruined, all for me.”

“Only for you.” You whispered hoarsely, closing your eyes when his hand curled around your throat assertively. 

The sight of you teary-eyed and wrecked almost made him cum in his pants. You were wrapped around his finger, ready to give him whatever he wanted without realizing that the only thing he did want was you.

“Let’s see if we can wreck you even further. Can you do that for me? Can you take more?” He asked you, wanting to make sure you were okay even if he was about to bust at the seams.

You kissed him softly while grabbing his free hand and guiding it towards your sex, jumping when he brushed against your clit before pulling back so that you were looking into his eyes. 

“I told you I wanted you to make me scream so loud they could hear me in the Hewn City. My mind hasn’t changed, Rhysand.” You smirked, letting him sprawl you out on the bed behind you and spread your legs impossibly wide. 

Rhys crawled on top of you, kissing your forehead once, before making his way down your body. “Darling, I’m going to make you cry until the skies themselves begin to weep.”

And with one last smirk, he began to feast on your body until the very ground shook from your screams of pleasure.  

[uchihaharlot]

I asked about Obito and Itachi’s crush offering a massage. And loved it. And now I am here to beg for a more…NSFW version? Please?

Consider your wish granted. 😈 I probably should have done that first time around, but sometimes I like writing fluffier cutesy things.

Also, my apologies nonny! I try to answer these in the order that was received, but there are often shorter drabbles I like to work with first. ❤️🫶

NSFW; dom-ish…Obi (wuuuuhhh??); assplay; penetration; soft/needy Itachi (🥹); soul sucking blow job; these men live the good life, I swear!! Someone come rub my busted ass hip!! 🥹😭😭

Obito:

His crush is a bit perturbed this time around. Why the hell didn’t he get the message the first time she took his damn shirt off?? He’s a bit…dense, ok? Obito is not stupid though, he definitely had a feeling she was up to something. Mm, still up to it this time too, man just didn’t want to get his hopes up. This time he doesn’t stop her when she rucks his shirt up, a little more rough than necessary. Her greedy hands mapping every small dip and minor scar on his back. Roaming down his hard muscles and up to his neck. Despite having small hands, his crush works out those tired muscles and soothes his aches.

‘Let me return the favor.’ It was bold, yes, and laced with a devious tone. Obito couldn’t think of a better way to make her squirt squirm than to return the gesture. ‘Finally.’ She thinks.

He does the same to her as she did him, removing her shirt and bra. Spinning her around pressing stomach flat to floor. Firmly dragging calloused hands over warm flesh. How soft and delicate she left in the hands of a man who has seen caused destruction. How he could destroy her with just a few thrusts. The first kiss on her shoulder has her heart racing. Obito’s warm breath was katon heat on her skin and caused goose flesh to break out. Searing smaller teasing kisses in his wake, Obito lifted her hips and pressed his severely aching girth to her and bent down to whisper in her ear.

‘Is this what you want?’ Dragging his lips down her backside again, lowering his briefs to let out cock and run it against her thigh until it pressed against her clothed heat.

‘..yes.’ Panting already, how badly this girl tried the first time around, she shouldn’t be this breathless. Obito didn’t want to make things any more tantalizing than they already were, but nonetheless, he pressed into those moist panties before slipping his arousal down between her thighs and shutting them.

Bodies pressed close, Obito gently rocked with her. Dragging his girth in and out of her thighs, the head of his cock was a great visual when she looked through her arms. Mimicking hard thrusts, she only imagined how full of him she would be. Why was he taking so long, ‘Obi..?’

‘Ask nicely.’ High on himself, Obito lowered the remaining barrier between them. Stuck his thumb in his mouth and ran it over the sensitive skin between her cunt before slipping it into her ass. The sound that ricocheted out the back of her throat made him press in further. Obito gently tugged her clit with his freehand, ‘or I’ll stop.’

‘No!’ Desperate, sheer lifted her head to look over her shoulder. ‘…please. Obito, gods please.’ He ran that hand to push her panties down to her knees and parted them a little, tracing her entrance.

‘Please. What?’

When her response was his fat cock, only then did Obito brazenly sheath himself to the hilt and slowly drag in and out. The loud mewl she let out told Obito he needn’t be too careful, if she was taking him this well. She could handle a little more. His thumb rocked in and out of her ass, hurried but precise. The way her soft but taut cunt sucked him in more as his thumb worked a different nerve, delivered coinciding sensations.

Her body quaked with his. Obito can only act tough for so long. The second her fluttering walls encapsulate his throbbing cock, its game, set and match. Neither one of them can keep quiet. Whispers of ‘I’m going to pump you full of my cum’ to ‘gonna put a baby in you’ seemingly come from a deep seated desire.

Her into reprieve is to thrust back into him with as much force, feeling the tip of his length kiss the spongey muscle of her cervix. Tap, tap and then the warmth of his loins spreads through her insides. Leaving a line of it down his shaft when he slips out.

They’ll lay on the floor in blissful silence, softly petting one another hair, face and body. Deep slow kisses until the euphoria has subsided.

Itachi:

Gurl is making Itachi flustered this time around. Two back rubs back to back, barely 24 hours apart. His genius didn’t leave room for debate, she was DTF. Just how far was this girl willing to go to please him? When she ran her hand over his abdomen, Itachi pulled her closer. There was no need to beat around the bush. If she really wanted it, just come out with it. Itachi was never one to mince words, he rather found being direct and concise yielded better results.

‘I know what your hands can do.’ He whispered, running a thumb down her palm. ‘I’m more curious about your mouth.’

Under the gaze of the sharingan, his crush drops to her knees. She’s gentle but eager with unfastening his slacks. Tracing the hair that peaks, he slouches in his chair. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to be. In the privacy of his own home he could give in to a prohibition or two. As his crush runs her hands over his briefs, both hands pulling down at the hem. He took himself in in hand and tapped the tip of his cock to her lips. She eagerly swiped up his shaft, Itachi growled lowly. Choked out when she sank the warmth of her mouth over his aching cock, to the base and back. Looked up at him and did it again. And again, taking the plunge over his aching head, and fully reaching the back of her throat. Gag reflex seemed nonexistent relatively quickly.

His eyes rolled shut when she tugged his testicles a little and took him in stride again. The urge to ram his cock in her mouth almost took precedence over the desire to last a little longer. Itachi was not virginal by any means, but goddamn his crush was making him feel like a half cocked 16 year old again. When she took him in both hands he went incoherent. Her breathy laugh and whispers fell on deaf ears, ‘does this feel good ‘Tachi?’ Followed the sounds of his low moans and pleas. Itachi gripped a hand at the back of her head to pull her off, but she neither yielded nor slowed down.

He wasn’t a push over, but that familiar itch of the floodgates opening up was the harbinger to the loud grunt that crawled out his throat. Her hands delicately worked his throbbing cock, the tingle scrunched up his balls and soothed the ailment for release. She drank him in full. Allowing the tip of his cock to ram the back of her throat once more as his creamy sperm coated and sloshed down her throat. Unfazed by the bitterness, and her little seductive pop off his cock. It drove him bonkers, Itachi bent down eagerly for a kiss. What was it about a woman drinking from your cock like a straw and swallowing it like the worlds freshest smoothie? Itachi gave two shits about the lingering flavor.

When she thinks he’s satisfied, he’ll bend her over and sweetly offer his gratitude…