#prompt: pensive

[theresthesnitch]

WIP Snippet

In a similar vein to @heartofspells (thanks for the tag. 🥰) I have been doing far too many secret projects to be able to do this for a while, so you get a kinktober snippet. With any luck, this one should come out tomorrow with Day 8 prompt of pensive.

This is a wolfstar fic, but the set up is with Lily.

~*~

“How familiar are you with our business, Remus?”

“I’m not really familiar at all, I’m afraid. I just saw your ad in the paper. I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name?”

“I’m Lily,” she says. “My husband, James, and I own the company. Do you know what kind of help we’re looking for?”

“No. The ad didn’t really say.” 

Lily hums. “Yes, that was on purpose, I’m afraid. People get very weird with the Daily Prophet when we add more details.” She opens a door and gestures him inside. He’s relieved to find it’s an office. “I hope you don’t mind that we’re using one of the sets. We’ve been expanding so much that we don’t really have a dedicated meeting space any longer, other than the kitchen, but Cas and Marls are actually in there today.”

“No, I’m sure that’s fine.” Remus looks around. It’s a rather sparsely decorated office, but it’s nice. He’s not sure why they wouldn’t use it anyway. “I’m sorry, did you say one of the sets? Is this a film company? I thought you were all wix.” 

She smiles at him. “We are. You must be muggleborn, then?”

“Half,” Remus says as he takes a seat in one of the chairs. “I hope that’s not a problem.” If it was, they really weren’t going to like the werewolf part.

Lily waves him off. “Not at all. I’m muggleborn myself.” She hops up on the desk rather than sitting at the chair behind it, and it throws Remus off a bit. “I hope that’s not a problem.” 

“Not for me,” he says. 

“Well, let me tell you a bit about the company, then, and we can get into the nitty gritty.” She clasps her hands in front of her. “Pensive Passions is an order-by-mail pensive memory service. Specifically, we specialize in erotic pleasure memories.” 

It takes Remus’s brain a full ten seconds to process what she means. “Oh. It’s porn. Pensive memory porn.” 

“If you want to simplify it, then yes,” Lily says with a smile. “We prefer pleasure memories.” 

“I, uh. I’ll try to remember that,” Remus says. “So, um, do you need help managing your mail or something?”

She smiles again, and Remus feels like he’s missed the joke. “Not quite,” she says. “James and I started this a few years ago, and it was just he and I. We figured out how to harvest pensive memories for specific scenes, and we started selling them for a little extra cash. When we started to get more specific requests, we brought on some of our friends to help us too. Sirius jumped in immediately, and then Marlene and Dorcas. For the last few years, it’s just been the five of us, but we’re looking to add some variety to our line up.” 

“Okay,” Remus says, but he’s still not quite sure what she’s asking. 

Lily leans forward, almost like she’s going to whisper in his ear. “We’re looking for more actors, Remus. People to be featured in the memories.” 

“Oh,” Remus says, then shakes his head. “I don’t think that would work.” 

Lily shrugs, but he thinks she’s just being kind now. “This kind of work is not for everyone, that’s for sure. If you’re not comfortable with having casual sex for people to watch, then perhaps this isn’t for you.” 

“No, that’s not–” Remus pauses, thinking. “Well, I’m not honestly sure how I’d feel about that, but it doesn’t matter. No one is going to want to watch me.” 

“Well, that’s just not true at all,” Lily says.

[paperultra]

space cadet.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader Word Count: 831 words Warnings: None

reverie (noun): a state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts; a daydream

You imagine the thoughts in your head as a forest of kelp at the bottom of the sea: dense, beautiful, brimming with life and all too easy to get lost in.

They’ve caused you trouble in the past. Countless rapped knuckles, letters sent home to your parents, walking into trees on the way home from school. But how could you resist? Empires rose and fell over the course of an hour inside your mind, mighty beasts swore their allegiance to you and the four seas were yours to explore. The childhood you had in the real world was so dull and lonely in comparison.

When you ran off and joined the Straw Hats, you finally had the excitement you had so craved. And yet, even now, your mind still wanders.

“If you swab the deck any more, we won’t have any left, sweetheart.”

Only a select few can bring you back.

You blink rapidly, the clouds dissipating as you stop scrubbing and look up. Sanji’s already smiling when you meet his gaze.

He lifts his hands; one offers a plate of shortbread cookies, the other a glass of milk.

“I’m going to guess that you haven’t had a break in a while,” he says. “Am I right?”

A break? Sending him a perplexed frown, you lean on the handle of your scrub brush and glance over your shoulder.

The side on which you had started winks back at you from afar, wood gleaming under the afternoon sun.

Oh.

“I … I guess so,” you reply slowly, turning back to him. It’s only then that you register the saltwater washing over your feet and the ache in your muscles. “I didn’t even realize …”

He shakes his head and chuckles, leading you to some nearby crates to sit down. “Too caught up in your stories again? I’m almost jealous that they get to spend so much time with you.”

“I don’t mean to make you worry.”

“Loving someone means worrying about them from time to time.”

He winks, and you smile, flustered.

“I see,” you say quietly. “Then thank you for worrying, Sanji.”

“Of course.” He hands you the glass of milk, then picks up a cookie and taps it against your lips. “Now, this is my best batch of sablés. You have no idea how hard it was to keep Luffy from eating them all in the kitchen.”

“I have some idea,” you drawl amusedly, taking a bite.

The cookie breaks with a gentle snap. It crumbles delightfully in your mouth, sugar and butter dancing on your tongue. A pleased hum rumbles in your throat before you wash it down with a gulp of cold milk.

“What do you think?”

“I think I might eat the whole plate right now,” you say, taking the other half of the cookie.

He grins. “So you like them.”

“They’re delicious.” Picking up another one, you hold it in front of his face. “Here.”

Sanji’s gaze remains locked with yours as he leans forward to take a bite of the cookie, his lips brushing your fingertips in an impromptu kiss before he pulls away. He chews thoughtfully. The action should not look as good as it does.

“My best batch, as I’ve said,” he tells you once he swallows. “But I’ve tasted sweeter.”

You tilt your head. “Where?”

His mouth curls into a smirk, and he places his fingers under your chin to bring your face closer to his. Your noses touch and you can feel his answer against your lips as he murmurs, “Right here.”

The rest of the crew may also have the pleasure of eating Sanji’s food, but they do not share your privilege of knowing just how talented he is at kissing.

He sets down the plate and lifts his hand to cup your jaw, meeting your lips and letting out a soft sigh before pressing his lips more fervently against yours. You can taste the smoke on his tongue, a constant underneath the warm sweetness of sugar and the saltiness of butter. Your eyes flutter closed, and you reach up to cradle the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging slightly. The groan he lets out sends tingles down to the tips of your toes.

“Sweetheart,” he pants, and the longing in his voice would’ve made your knees buckle if you were standing, “I won’t be able to stop if you keep doing that.”

You put your glass of milk down so you can bury both hands in his golden hair. Your forehead touches his. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“Maybe it is,” he mutters.

You bring him back in for another searing kiss that Sanji returns just as eagerly.

Yes, you value your time alone with your thoughts. They are a forest of kelp at the bottom of the sea, beautiful, countless, and wild.

But as easy as it is to get lost in your thoughts, it is infinitely easier to get lost in him.

[sad-leon]

Finding Home Part 7 :D

it.. its been a minute, huh? scrapped some of the original plan to get rid of the art/mental block, but hey, we got there eventually

and let me introduce the worsties <3: Casey and Leo <3 (they've eventually stop hating each other i promise)

Masterpost || Next

KoFi || Patreon

[theunconcernedembalmer]

I may not be as active on the idv scene anymore but I miss seeing you and your Aesop on my dash oop. Glad to see you back fren :3

I missed being here XD thank u so much for the message beth!!

[erstwhilesparrow]

@mcyt-drabble-exchange treat for @arabella377 !

---

Grian actually stomps his foot when he finds out. “What d’you mean this whole time you’ve been—!” He grasps for words, fingers opening and closing on nothing.

Cleo blinks at Etho. Etho blinks at Cleo.

“When I said and we were roommates,” Cleo begins incredulously, “what did you think that meant?”

Grian throws his hands up and paces a tight, angry circle. Then he halts like he’s just thought of something. “Were you kissing?” he demands, scandalized.

“I thought for sure you knew,” Etho says a little helplessly.

Cleo cackles. “No, he was too busy thinking about Scar, wasn’t he?”

[ahollowgrave]

sensory prompt: 31. The cold, sharp smell of the first frost

(don't know if you wanted us to specify for which oc so i'm just letting you choose ahahah)

This takes place during one of Odette's earlier adventures. Traveling alone through long abandoned ruins. We're talking about skeletons, boys.

Odette hadn’t expect them to smell… cold. She wasn’t sure what a pile of bones were suppose to smell of. Grave dirt, decay, oldness perhaps? The nun sat back on her haunches and folded her arms across the tops of her knees. They were bare of flesh in a way that suggested time but they were not clean. Dirt clung to them and in the low light she could spy shiny black carapaces of living things crawling among the heap. Moss had stretched over a few of the larger bones, a few of which looked cracked.

She was pretty sure all the bones were there for a complete skeleton… or near enough. Which made their haphazard arrangement on the floor of this abandoned place even more curious. With self-preservation far from her mind, Odette leaned forward to caress the curve of the grinning skull.

“How far from your resting place are you, my friend?” Her voice was soft, hardly above a prayer, but even still it echoed in wide and empty halls.

Frost bloomed where her fingers touched and though she yanked her hand back it stopped nothing. In rippling spirals the frost reached every part of every bone in a matter of moments. And then the skull sighed -- breath pluming before it like a winter morning -- and the pile began to rise.

Odette fell backward and scrambled wildly away from the half-formed skeleton. Watching with horrified fascination as little blue flowers continuously blossomed and withered along the ribs and across the shoulders, as steady as breathing. As the complicated bones of the hands and feet sorted themselves into their proper places it took the early steps of a fawn. Several of the crawling things that had been living among the pile fell and, absently, newly formed hands caught them and pat them back into place. Moss trailed behind it like a ruined veil until gravity reinforced itself.

It never once stopped watching her.

Odette riffled through her catalog of prayers and rites and collection of stories and myths.

And then it stood before her, tall and complete, still shedding dirt and long insects with many legs.

Wordlessly and with a chivalric tip of its head, the skeleton offered the still-prone nun a hand.

Thank you for the ask @oneiroy! ][ Sensory Prompts ][

[pyonpyonpyon]

❛ no more lies, no more secrets. ❜ // ichiro -> ramuda

𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 

"Right, gotcha. But y'know, Ichiro... I've never really liked lying." How Ichiro likes to interpret that is up to him, but Ramuda himself has always preferred diversions and half-truths and omissions. Even now, he brings no acknowledgement to the latter half of Ichiro's words. Even if Ichiro notices it, Ramuda has little intention of willingly vivisecting himself so Ichiro could be served his secrets on a silver platter.

"So I'll do the best I can to answer your questions!" He passes the responsibility of truth to Ichiro, though... it's too broad a topic, so Ramuda should narrow it down a little for him. What is information Ichiro would want to know, and what is Ramuda willing to give? He gazes into Ichiro's eyes--one red, one an overly familiar green--and places his careful bet.

"And this way we can stick it to your old man too~!"

[fourleafclovxr]

i should reread rise and fall...

[giaantisopod]

like how this blog was made for the sole reason that i was being ill thinking about goro akechi…

[balladetto]

mister magic / accepting / @godraet

"The desert has a way of wriggling into your soul."

     Maybe if Link closes his eyes, he can pretend this thing between them is peace.

     Is it stupid of him to want that? Yeah, probably. Yet for all the resentment that lies behind his teeth, white-hot against his gums and borne of the torment wrought by this man, the exhaustion of— everything else, everything that could be, weighs inexplicably heavier.

     This feels like it might be a moment's respite. A breath in the spark of clashing blades, a tree's hollowed nook in the middle of a storm.

     Link does not close his eyes.

     He clenches his fingers tighter around the arms crossed over his chest. A hum rolls in from the back of his throat, carefully neutral. He feels, at once, too big for his skin and too small for the sword he would be-could be-should be holding in his hand — it's an issue of trust, really. He can want all he likes in the face of it: it's not gonna go anywhere.

     ( Still, he's listening. If nothing else, he remains very good at that. )

[shewhowillrise]

DC x DP Prompt

“So as the reasons stated, Anti ECTO Acts are not only harmful as a back door into the security of the Meta Protection Acts, it’s bordering on species destruction. I’m appalled this has passed right under our noses.”

Batman’s spirited (eh) speech from earlier kept digging at a nerve in Constantine’s mind.

“You seem pensive, are you alright?” Think of the devil, and he appears with his dorky pointing ears in tow.

“What? Yeah,” Constantine started, “I’m just surprised is all. What with your son being an ecto being, thought this sorta stuff would be on your radar.”

He shrugged as he went to leave, but was stopped by a winged gauntlet, “my son?”

“Yeah,” Constantine said, “the bloke with the red mask. I mean, it’s obvious, what with the fact he needs to kill and consume souls just to stay whole and sane.”

Batman’s mouth turned thin, “explain.”

Constantine snorted before sobering, “oh you’re serious.” He got the patented hng in response.

“You’re son’s a revenant, at least without a proper magical check up to make sure. That’s the typical prognosis when a person comes back from the dead after mur-”

“What,” Batman interrupted, “is a revenant?”

“An ecto being that needs to feed on souls to stay alive, or their demise avenged. Basically, their soul is unbalanced, due to the fact that when they came back, only their rage does. To get all the other emotions, they must,” he makes a slashing motion across his neck, “others to get those emotions from. Or, who ever killed them is offed by the person of their choosing. Well,” he thinks for a second, “it’s not a conscious choice but someone their soul chooses. Once the original perp is dead, the rage will rest, which lets in all the other emotions to stay.”

Batman huffed.

“Honestly surprised that the clown’s still alive. The amount of theatrics your son contains, I bet whoever his soul chose, got quite the show.”

[godsfavdarling]

How does that feel?

+18!!!

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You've been having a hard time finishing in bed and you finally tell Spencer what's going on. words: 4,4k warnings: smut - oral (fem! receiving), breast/nipple play, unprotected sex (don't do that) a/n: this was a request! also, i've stared at this thing for so long i don't know anymore what's going on, but i hope yall like it <3

You sat at a cozy corner table in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by your closest friends - Penelope, Emily, and JJ. The four of you had met up for a much-needed girls' night out to finally have a chance to unwind and catch up. 

"Can you believe the latest case we worked on?" JJ said, shaking her head. "Sometimes it feels like we're living in a crime novel."

"Tell me about it," Emily agreed. "But PLEASE! Let’s not talk about work. I need to decompress."

Penelope raised her glass. "To decompressing! And to… friends!"

You all clinked glasses, smiling at each other. Very quickly the conversation shifted towards more personal topics.

"So, how are things with Will?" Emily asked, turning to JJ.

JJ smiled. "Things are great, actually. We're planning a little getaway next month, just the two of us. What about you, Em? Any romance on the horizon?"

Emily shrugged. "I'm enjoying the single life right now. Besides, it’s not easy to find love having this job. When am I supposed to do that?"

Penelope grinned. "Don’t you worry about it, pumpkin! You’re gonna find someone soon. I can feel it in my bones!."

The conversation continued in this vein for a while, each of you sharing updates about your romantic lives. You listened and laughed along, but Penelope's observant eyes caught the slightly distant look on your face.

"Alright, spill it," Penelope prompted, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "What's been going on with you lately? You've seemed a bit off."

You sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment. These were your friends, after all, and you knew you could trust them. "It's just... I've been having a hard time finishing in bed lately. It's been… really frustrating."

Emily raised an eyebrow, her expression sympathetic. "Have you talked to Spencer about it?"

You shook your head. "Not yet. I mean, I want to, but I don't want to make him feel bad or think it's his fault. He's always so attentive, and I don't want him to think he's doing something wrong. And he’s not doing anything wrong. He’s perfect. Obviously."

JJ leaned in, her voice gentle. "Hey, communication is key. Spencer loves you, and I'm sure he’d want to know what's going on so he can help. I’m sure his big brain knows exactly what to do."

Penelope nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! Plus, it could be an opportunity to explore new things together… Sometimes all it takes is a little experimentation."

You smiled, feeling a bit more encouraged. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I'll talk to him."

-------------------------------------

Later that evening, you found yourself back at home, sitting on the couch next to Spencer. He was engrossed in a book, the dim light casting soft shadows across his focused face. He set the book aside when he noticed your pensive expression, concern immediately clouding his eyes.

"Hey, is everything okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.

You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest. "Spence, there's something I need to talk to you about."

He turned to face you fully, his full attention on you, his brow furrowing slightly. "Of course. What is it?"

You hesitated, your fingers twisting in your lap as you searched for the right words. Finally, you decided to dive in. "Lately, I've been having a hard time finishing in bed. It's been really frustrating for me, and I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want you to feel bad."

Spencer's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding and concern. His mouth opened slightly as if to speak, but he hesitated, clearly processing what you had just revealed. "Oh…”

You immediately regretted saying anything. It wasn't the end of the world, after all. You still enjoyed sex but just couldn't reach the high. Maybe you were just too stressed. 

It had nothing to do with Spencer. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as Spencer seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed as he tried to find the right words. Why would he know what to say? You felt like you were just making things difficult.

“Forget it. It’s fine,” you said quickly, trying to dismiss the conversation and spare him the discomfort.

“No, no, no, wait,” he said, reaching out and grabbing your hands as you started to stand up. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding you. “It’s okay. I’m glad you told me. I just… how did I not notice? I… I’m just trying to remember, well, I remember everything and I just… I can’t believe I… couldn’t tell.”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I didn’t want you to know. It’s embarrassing.” Your voice wavered, and you looked away, feeling tears start to spill down your cheeks.

“No, it’s not. It’s not embarrassing. I want you to feel good.”

“It does feel good. Always. I just… I don’t know. I just can’t cum. It’s like I get almost there and it feels good, but it never happens.” At this point, you were crying openly, the frustration and embarrassment overwhelming you.

Spencer pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. You buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and steady beat of his heart. He rubbed your back soothingly, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. "Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out together. I want to help."

You clung to him, feeling the weight of your frustration starting to lift just a little. "I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to think it was your fault."

Spencer pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his gaze intense and filled with love. “It’s not your fault, and it’s not my fault. Sometimes these things happen. What’s important is that we’re in this together. We can try new things, we can talk and see what works for you.”

You nodded, sniffling a little. “Okay. I’d like that.”

“Good,” he said, smiling gently, his thumb brushing away a tear from your cheek. “We’ll take it slow and explore together. Your pleasure is important to me, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re satisfied.”

As you snuggled into his arms, the tension slowly easing from your body, you wondered why you had been so scared to tell him in the first place. Spencer always knew what to say, always knew how to make you feel safe and loved. 

This was Spencer - your Spencer - and you realized you had nothing to fear.

-------------------------------------

Spencer was clearly waiting for you to initiate anything, respecting your pace and comfort. In the meantime, he very carefully tried to understand you.

Despite his constant reassurances that there was nothing to be ashamed of and that he was more than happy to figure this out together, you couldn't shake the lingering embarrassment about your problem. He was understanding and supportive, trying to create a safe space for you to open up about your frustrations.

You spent several nights just talking, diving deep into the details of your intimate experiences. Spencer approached it with a mix of curiosity and determination, asking thoughtful and sometimes probing questions. 

You discussed every position you'd tried before, analyzing what felt best and why. You talked about your feelings toward toys and whether they might help. 

Spencer inquired about foreplay - whether it felt too short, too long, too intense, or not intense enough. He wanted to understand what was most pleasurable for you in terms of finishing. Was it when he was eating you out, fingering you, or through penetration? Or did you find that a combination of these was most satisfying? 

He also asked if you enjoyed it when he talked to you during the act. What were your favorite things for him to say? 

He wanted to understand everything about your experiences. What went through your mind when you masturbated? What kind of porn did you watch? Each question, while sometimes making your face flush with embarrassment, was asked with genuine care and focus. 

Spencer treated it like a meticulous scientific research project, aiming to solve the problem with the utmost care and attentiveness. His dedication and focus made you feel deeply cared for, as he was on a mission to be the one to help you find the satisfaction you deserved.

On Saturday night, you and Spencer lay in bed with your books, enjoying the quiet comfort of each other's company. He was engrossed in a thick classic novel in a foreign language, while you were absorbed in your favorite author’s new romance. The plot had just reached the point where the two protagonists had sex for the first time. The scene stirred something deep within you, making your skin feel hot and your heart race. You bit your lip, trying to concentrate, but your thoughts kept drifting.

As the scene ended, you finally allowed yourself to look over at Spencer. He was completely lost in the pages, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Having problems, genius?” you teased, your voice carrying a playful edge.

“What? No!” he replied, not even looking up from the words on the page. “How’s your romance? Is it good?”

“Oh... it’s very good,” you said, scooting closer to him, propping your head on your hand. Finally, he looked at you, curiosity mingling with his usual attentiveness.

“What is it?” he asked, sensing your change in mood.

“Nothing,” you replied with feigned innocence, placing your hand on his chest. 

His eyes stayed on you, studying your expression. Your breathing grew heavier as you stared at his neck, unable to hold back any longer. You lowered your face to the side of his neck, your lips brushing against his skin.

Spencer's breath hitched slightly, and he set his book aside, his attention fully on you now. "Are you sure it's nothing?" he murmured, his voice low and inviting.

You smiled against his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin. "Well, maybe it's something," you admitted, your voice a whisper. Your fingers traced gentle patterns on his chest, feeling a now quicker beat of his heart beneath your touch.

Spencer’s hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. “Tell me,” he urged softly, his eyes filled with desire.

The room felt charged with electricity. 

“Well… I was just reading this scene… where, you know… the girl and the boy finally fucked. On the floor. It made me think of us.” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.

“You want to have sex on the floor?” Spencer asked with a serious tone.

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “No, too many germs,” you said with a playful grin.

Spencer chuckled, his eyes softening with affection. “Alright, not on the floor then,” he said, his voice low and inviting as his hand gently caressed your cheek. “But I get the idea.”

You leaned into his touch, your heart pounding with anticipation. “I just want to be close to you,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone.

Spencer's eyes darkened with understanding, and he leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft yet insistent. “Then let’s explore that together,” he whispered against your lips, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip, pulling you closer.

His kiss was deep, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency that sent shivers down your spine. 

His hand, now resting on your hip, guided you closer, pressing your bodies together. 

You instinctively rubbed your thighs together, seeking some friction, and Spencer, ever observant, immediately noticed. It seemed impossible for him to be more attentive, yet somehow he was. 

With a gentle but deliberate motion, he turned you so that you were lying on your back beneath him. As he shifted, you felt the press of his already hard cock against your core, making you lift your hips slightly, yearning for more contact.

“We’re gonna take things slow, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “I want you to feel good.”

You wanted him, you wanted him now, but you understood his approach. 

After all the endless conversations, you and Spencer had reached a few conclusions about what worked best for you both. 

For one, you often found yourselves too excited, mostly you, to slow things down. Foreplay, though it was present, had usually been quite brief due to the intense need to get naked and feel him inside you. So, longer foreplay became a new priority.

Two, you discovered that you felt most connected when he was close to you, every part of his body touching yours.

Three, you both agreed on the importance of more kissing. Spencer had given you what felt like a comprehensive college level lesson on erogenous zones, emphasizing the need to focus on and cherish these areas. 

His lips, his touch, his breath - every aspect of physical intimacy was to be savored and explored in greater depth.

With these insights in mind, Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. His hands roamed your body with a slow, deliberate grace, each touch designed to explore and stimulate. 

His kisses traveled from your lips to your neck, then lower, each movement a careful balance of passion and tenderness.

He paused to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with both love and a hint of playful mischief. “Ready for us to take our time?” he asked, his voice a soothing murmur.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of excitement and relief. “Let’s take our time.”

Your nipples were already hard against your tank top, the fabric offering little barrier to the stimulation. Spencer grazed the side of your breasts with his hands, his touch both teasing and tender. 

As his lips kissed and nuzzled your collarbones, his thumb began to circle your nipple through the thin material of your shirt. The sensation made you shiver with pleasure, and you melted further into his touch.

His leg, now firmly pressed between your thighs, rubbed gently against your inner thighs and core. The pressure of his length pressed into your hip, amplifying the heat building in you.

“Please, take it off,” you whispered, your voice quivering with need.

“Take off what?” Spencer murmured, his face still buried in your chest, his hair brushing against your face with every movement.

“My shirt. Please,” you pleaded, a hint of desperation in your voice.

He chuckled softly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he slid his hands lower, pushing up your top to reveal your stomach. He showered your exposed skin with soft kisses, his lips warm and affectionate against your belly. 

As you reached for the hem of your shirt, you quickly pulled it off, tossing it aside.

“What happened to taking things slow?” Spencer asked, looking up at you with a teasing grin, his chin resting against your stomach.

“Sorry,” you said, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t be,” he replied with a smile. “I just want to make sure you feel really good.”

“I do,” you whispered, your voice filled with need. “Keep going.”

“Whatever you say, angel,” he murmured with a soft chuckle.

With that, Spencer moved between your legs, lifting them and resting them on his shoulders. He positioned himself comfortably, and you felt the anticipation rise as his face moved closer to your core. 

He inhaled deeply, his breath warm against your sensitive folds, making you whimper in response.

“Please,” you begged softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he said, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into you, pulling down your underwear with careful, deliberate motions. He started with a gentle kiss on your nub, his lips exploring with a tenderness that made you gasp. 

He then trailed his kisses down to your thighs, peppering them with soft, teasing pecks. The sensation was delightful, and you giggled, placing your hand on his cheek.

He turned his mouth to your hand, kissing the inside of your palm before taking it in his hand and guiding it back to rest gently beside you. His fingers lingered, his touch warm and reassuring as he held your hand. 

He then looked at your cunt.

“You’re already so wet. For me?” he asked, his voice filled with both awe and desire.

“For you? Always,” you replied, your breath hitching.

He chuckled against you, the sound and the vibration making you shiver. “Don’t do that,” you said with a laugh, trying to steady your breathing.

“Sorry,” he murmured with a playful tone. 

Before you could say anything more, he gave you a long, slow lick from your entrance to the top, his tongue moving with a deliberate slowness. He stopped at your sensitive nub and began to suck gently, his mouth working with a rhythm that made you arch your back and moan in pleasure.

Spencer’s mouth was a world of sensation against you. 

He kept going with long, languid licks, his tongue gliding from your entrance to the top of your sensitive nub. Each stroke was deliberate, exploring every inch with a careful, loving precision. 

The warmth of his tongue, combined with the perfect pressure, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making you gasp and moan.

You felt your breath quicken as his movements became more focused. 

He moved his tongue in quicker, teasing circles around your clit, his mouth creating a constant, delightful friction. 

You squirmed under the intensity, your hips instinctively bucking in response.

When you no longer felt him on your clit, a desperate cry for him almost escaped your lips. But then, he gently slipped his tongue inside you, and a wave of relief and pleasure washed over you. 

He moved with precision, his tongue exploring deeper while maintaining the steady, teasing motions that drove you wild. Each movement was deliberate, calculated to elicit the maximum pleasure from you.

His nose brushed against your folds and clit with each movement, adding an extra layer of sensation. The combination of his tongue inside you and the gentle pressure of his nose against your most sensitive spot made you tremble. 

Your hand clutched at the sheets, your body arching toward him, seeking more.

You could feel the build-up of tension and ecstasy swelling inside you.

Through all of this, Spencer held your hand firmly in his, his fingers intertwined with yours. 

As you felt your orgasm approaching, you squeezed his hand tightly, your fingers gripping his with a mix of desperation and pleasure. 

Spencer responded by tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, his touch soothing and intimate amidst all the intense sensations he was creating.

With a final, expert flick of his tongue, he sent you spiraling into a powerful climax. 

Your body tensed and then released in a wave of pleasure, your moans filling the room. Spencer continued his slow, consistent movements, savoring every moment of your release.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, he slowly eased his mouth away, leaving soft, lingering kisses along your inner thighs. 

His hand remained clasped with yours, and he looked into your eyes from between your thighs, his expression a mix of content and desire. “Wanna keep going? We can stop if you need to.”

You shook your head, a determined glint in your eyes as you pulled yourself up and crushed into him, pressing your lips against his with an almost desperate intensity. 

The kiss was fervent, your tongues dancing together, both urgent and consuming as you tasted yourself on his lips and on his tongue. He was covered in you.

Spencer’s hands found their way to your back, his touch warm and gentle, but firm at the same time.

Tonight felt different. It was more intense, more electric. 

As your kiss grew deeper, you moaned into him, the sound mingling with his own soft groans of pleasure. With a deft maneuver, he turned you so that you were straddling him, his hands firmly on your hips.

“Is this okay?” he managed to ask, his voice a low rumble as he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. The effort it took to break the kiss was evident, his breaths heavy and laden with desire.

“Yes,” you responded quickly, your need palpable as you crashed your lips back onto his, kissing him even harder. 

“Baby, slow down,” Spencer said softly, though his voice was tinged with longing. “We were meant to go slow.”

You moved your lips to his cheek and jaw, leaving a trail of kisses that were tender but laced with urgency. “I need you. I need you so bad,” you whispered against his skin, the words laced with an aching desire.

Spencer gently cupped your face, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your jawline. He guided your gaze to meet his.

“Look at me,” he said softly, his voice a gentle promise and his eyes filled with affection “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. We have all night and even more.”

He leaned in and kissed you with a tenderness that contrasted the intensity of moments before. 

“How do you do it?” you asked breathlessly, your curiosity blending with the haze of desire. You wondered, as you looked into his eyes, how he managed to maintain such control over himself amidst all the passion.

“What?” Spencer’s voice was a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

“Stop yourself,” you clarified, your voice barely above a whisper. “How do you manage to hold back?”

Spencer’s eyes softened, and he gave you a reassuring smile. “It’s not about holding back,” he said, his voice calm and sincere. “It’s about making sure you feel good. I want this to be perfect for you, for us, every time. That’s what matters.”

His words stirred something deep within you, and you were hit by a wave of warmth and appreciation. As he leaned in to kiss you again, the tender, loving nature of his touch gave you goosebumps.

“Can we fuck now?” you asked, your voice husky with need.

Spencer looked at you with a warm, eager smile. “Yes. Yes, we can,”

You gave his cock a few teasing strokes, feeling the way he reacted, his breath hitching as he moaned softly into your shoulder. You slowly guided him to your entrance. 

The sensation of him pressing against you was both thrilling and comforting, a familiar solace you will never get tired of and always makes your world shudder.

With a gentle, deliberate motion, you positioned him at your core, and you slowly lowered yourself onto him. 

The gradual stretch and the way he filled you completely was exquisite, causing you both to moan into each other’s mouths softly. 

You took your time, savoring each inch, feeling every subtle shift and movement.

Spencer’s hands were steady on your hips, guiding and supporting you as you adjusted to his size. His breaths were heavy, matching the rhythm of your movements. 

The room was filled with only the sound of your shared pleasure, a mix of gasps and moans.

As you slowly rode him, the rhythm of your movements became more synchronized, each motion building both of you up to the peak. 

Spencer’s hands were not idle - he moved with purpose, his touch exploring every inch of your body with a deep, loving attentiveness.

One hand continued to support you around your lower back, while the other trailed up to your breasts. His fingers began to play with your nipples, gently pinching and rolling them as you moved. 

That was one thing you had confessed to him during one of your intimate conversations, and Spencer had clearly taken it to heart. You had shared with him how much you loved when he played with your breasts, revealing, a bit embarrassed, the deep pleasure it brought you.

“How does that feel?” he asked in between the kisses he left on your neck, his voice a husky whisper against your skin.

“Fuck,” was all you managed to say, a breathless gasp that made him chuckle, his eyes gleaming with amusement and desire.

He massaged your breasts tenderly, his fingers moving with a practiced ease, adjusting his touch to match the rhythm of your thrusts. His lips covered every inch of your neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

The combination of his hands on your breasts, the feeling of him inside you, and his lips on your skin was overwhelming. Your body responded instinctively, arching into his touch, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

Spencer’s breath came in ragged gasps, his groans of pleasure mingling with yours. His hands worked skillfully, keeping your nipples sensitive and aroused as your movements became more frantic and desperate. Then his eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of concentration and passion evident in his gaze.

While you stared into his brown eyes, he finally teased your nipple with a light lick of his tongue. 

You almost screamed. 

He started kissing it while his other hand worked on your other breast, his mouth hot and insistent. His tongue traced circles around your hard peak, sending shivers down your spine, while his slim fingers squeezed the other one.

At that point, you screamed into his ear, unable to contain the intensity of your pleasure.

“Sorry,” you whispered, your voice a trembling apology.

“It’s okay. You’re so beautiful,” he replied, his eyes softening with affection as he looked at you, his hands never ceasing their tender ministrations. His words and touch combined, making you feel cherished and desired in every way and that made your heart swell.

His lips returned to your other nipple, sucking and teasing it with more insistence now.

Finally, the pressure inside you reached its peak. 

With a gasp and a shudder, you came, the wave of ecstasy crashing over you while his lips stayed on your breasts peppering them with kisses.

Your body tensed and then relaxed as you rode out the climax, your moans filling the room. Spencer continued to stroke your breasts gently, his touch both soothing and stimulating as he guided you through the final throes of your orgasm.

As you slowly came down from the high, you leaned your head against his, your fingers gently threading through his hair, the other arm wrapped around his neck. He held you close, his hands now lingering on your back with a soft, affectionate touch. 

He squeezed you tightly, turning his face to kiss your neck, which elicited one more moan from your lips. 

You could feel him smiling against your skin as he squeezed you tightly one more time.

[moonstruckme]

A Friendly Proposition

Based on this request: Hi mae!!! Would you be open to writing tasm!peter parker or Remus lupin with best friend reader who hasn’t cum before, and he is outraged when he hears this? And he’s like, why don’t I show you (wink wink) -- Thank you for requesting!! I chose Remus for this but I would love to do some Peter smut in the future if anyone has any ideas :)

cw: smut mdni, fingering, not necessarily inexperienced reader but kind of has that vibe, basically smut no plot

bestfriend!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 2.2k words

“I dunno, I guess overall it was fine.” 

“Fine?” Remus looks up from where he’s lying on his bed, one eyebrow lifted in that way you don’t think he knows he does. You’re sitting on the floor in front of his mirror, attempting to cover up a particularly bad hickey your date from last night had left you as a parting gift. His reflection has a wry twist to its mouth. “I should hope it was more than just fine.” 

You shrug, tilting your head to dab at the makeup on your neck. “Not the best, not horrible. I’d call it thoroughly average.” 

Your friend hisses sympathetically through his teeth. “Not the sort of rave review most guys strive for. If I left someone with a mark like that, I’d hope I made it worth their while.” 

You can’t keep your lips from curving. “I didn’t say it wasn’t worthwhile.” 

“Did he at least make you cum?” 

You cough in surprise. “At least?” You turn around, giving him a disbelieving look. 

Remus’ answering expression is equally incredulous. 

“How common do you think that is?” you ask him. 

The eyebrow lifts higher. “Well, now I’m not sure, but I’ve never had any problems.” 

You scoff, turning back to the mirror. “That’s because you’re a guy.” 

“No,” Remus says, amusement tingling in his tone. “I mean, yes, but I meant I’ve never had any problems making other people cum.” 

“Seriously?” You freeze with your hand upheld awkwardly above your neck. You’re doing your best to make this conversation feel casual, but sometimes having an attractive guy for a best friend can get confusing, and the room is starting to feel a tad warm despite the open windows. “Like, what’s your success rate?” 

“What’s yours?” 

“I asked you first.” 

Remus’ lips twitch, fondness beneath his exasperation. “For women specifically?”

“Sure.” 

He nods, expression turning pensive. “I can’t be exactly sure. I mean, it’s not like I’m constantly fucking loads of women.” He says it so offhandedly, but just the language makes a tickle of warmth start up in your cheeks. “There were a couple who didn’t, when I was younger, still learning, but since then it’s been fairly high.” 

You swallow. You wonder what the learning had entailed, what Remus had picked up that you and anyone you’ve hooked up with hasn’t. It’s typically not for a lack of trying, though some certainly invest more time into the ambition than others. You can’t say you’ve even tried that hard yourself, not in a while and not since you’ve reckoned with the idea that it may simply not happen for you. It feels like a pointless exercise. 

You break from your reverie when you notice Remus watching you in the mirror. 

“Your turn,” he prompts. 

“You can’t make fun of me.” 

“You know I wouldn’t.” 

You absolutely do not know that, he loves to tease, but he’s right in that you don’t think he would about this. You catch yourself nibbling on your bottom lip, and stop. 

You do your best to affect his unflappable blasé when you say, “Zero, so far.” 

That blasé hardly holds up now. Remus sits straight up. “Never? Not once?” 

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, so you focus on covering the spot on your neck. “Nope.”

“Not even by yourself?” 

“You make it sound like it’s so easy.” There’s some bitterness in your tone as you tilt your head up, inspecting your work in the light. “I haven’t tried in a while, because I was never able to. I got sick of it.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

You try not to melt. Remus will call you that, from time to time, but given the context of your conversation you wish he wouldn’t. Suddenly his room feels a little bit smaller, the atmosphere more private than before.

You look at his reflection, expecting to find teasing in his expression, but it’s thoughtful. Contemplative. 

“You said you wouldn’t make fun,” you remind him. “I feel like that should also include feelings of pity. Let’s not act like it’s some great tragedy to not have cum before.” 

“No, I’m…it’s not that. You’re right, there are worse fates.” One corner of his lips curves slightly, and you mirror him, relieved. “I was just thinking that I could…well, I might be able to help.” 

“What?” A little laugh trips off your tongue. Your face is really feeling warm now. “Do you have some kind of manual or something?”

“Would you want my help?”

“Is there a diagram you’re going to show me? Trust me, I’ve seen those.” 

“Answer the question, love.” 

You set your makeup down, expelling a breath. Meet his eyes in the mirror with a shrug. “Yeah. Sure, I’d be curious.” 

Remus studies you. Analytical hazel eyes and a map of scars you would know blind. “Tell me if this makes you uncomfortable, but I could show you, if you’d like.” 

Your breath seems to stall in your lungs. “On…” you trail off, not wanting to misunderstand him. 

“On you,” he confirms. “Would you want that?” 

You’re nodding before you can think enough to speak. Your head feels slow and fuzzy, like you’re navigating a dream. “Yeah,” you manage. “If you’re alright with that.” 

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” Remus spreads his legs open on the bed, patting the space between them. “C’mere, love.” 

“What—like, now?” 

“Do you have another engagement?” He gives you a little smile. It squishes the scar underneath his left eye adorably, but when you hesitate he sobers. “Hey, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

You shake your head, and it’s like your body remembers how to move, propelling you up from your seated position. “No, sorry, I’m good with this. I think I’m just a bit nervous.” 

“That’s alright,” he reassures you. “You don’t need to be, though. It’s only me.” 

You see his eyes drop to your mouth, and you let your lip slip from between your teeth a second time. Remus is right. If there’s anyone you should be comfortable learning this with, it’s him. 

When you go to crawl up on the bed, he stops you. “Probably want to lose the pants first,” he suggests. 

Right. You set your fingers to the button, and it seems to fly open of its own regard. You feel Remus’ eyes on you as you slide them over your hips and step out. 

“Underwear too, or…” 

“No, we’ll keep those for now.” Remus holds a hand out for you, and you get up onto the bed, letting him help you settle in between his legs. It’s impossible not to be conscious of the feel of his pants against your bare skin, or how comfortably he wraps a hand around your thigh, pulling it open that much wider. “Do you usually start with everything off?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “Isn’t that sort of the point?”

“Sometimes,” he hums. “Sometimes, though, it helps to work up to it. You need to get warmed up, you know?” 

You murmur an affirmation, though you don’t actually know. There’s never been much warming up when you or anyone else has tried to do this before. But it doesn’t matter, because then Remus starts rubbing the outsides of your thighs with both hands, and any sound dies in your throat. 

“You have to start slow,” he says in a low voice. Scarred, strong hands moving over your skin. “Everyone responds to different things, and it’s about feeling out what works for you.” 

You can’t imagine how this wouldn’t work for anyone. Remus touch starts moving inward, until his long fingers are dragging over your inner thighs, fuelling a familiar warmth at their apex. 

“Are you feeling more relaxed now?” 

You wet your lips. “I think so.” 

“Good. If you’re feeling up to it, you could try touching yourself other places, see what works.” 

Tentatively, you slip one of your hands up your shirt. Your breasts feel more sensitive than usual, and when you squeeze one, combined with Remus’ hands on your thighs, it makes your breath catch. 

“There you go, sweetheart. You’ve got it.” 

Your body starts to slacken against him, but Remus doesn’t seem to mind. He only uses his grip on your thighs to drag you closer, propping you up. You can’t tell which one of you is warmer. 

Without warning, his hand brushes over your mound. You gasp. 

“Is this okay?” Remus asks, his voice closer to your ear than it had been. He gives you another stroke over your panties. 

“Yes,” you breathe out. 

“Alright. Tell me if I do anything you don’t like.” 

One hand continues moving over your thigh while the other drags the fabric of your panties aside, flattening over your cunt. 

“Oh, poor girl,” he coos. “Is all this for me?” 

Your silence must scream mortification, because he chuckles and bumps the side of your head with his affectionately. 

“Sorry, I’m only messing with you. Is it always like this?” 

You lie. “Yeah.” 

Remus hums, dragging two fingers through your folds. You squirm in his lap. Your hand has completely forgotten your breast. 

“I usually start here,” he says, one finger circling your clit. It slips and slides in the mess you’ve already made. “You do the same?” 

You nod fervently. He adds another finger, moving over it gently, and has to tighten his grip on your leg to keep it open. Your breaths start coming faster as he repeats the motion. You can feel him getting hard behind you. 

Just as your pleasure starts to take you under, Remus’ fingers fall away. 

“Your turn,” he says. His voice sounds slightly hoarse. 

When you hesitate, confused and a bit bereaved, he chuckles, taking your hand in his and pressing your fingers to your clit. 

“Show me how you’re gonna do it, sweetheart.” 

Tentatively, you try to copy his movements. Your own fingers feel clumsy and inadequate compared to his, but after all the work Remus has put in they’re still enough. You chase that tightening sensation, hips twitching into your own touch. 

Remus doesn’t leave you on your own for long. His hand finds your cunt again, seeking, it seems, every possible way to drive you to madness. He collects the slick pooling by your entrance, sliding it up and down through your folds, and when his fingers breach your hole you make a soft, surprised sound that sends his lips down onto your shoulder. 

Instantly, you’re aware of how much better this feels. Remus’ mouth is warm and soft, a contrast against the roughness of his stubble. He sucks at you gently, warming you up like he had your cunt, before letting his teeth scrape lightly over your skin. Your date from last night had been so eager to get your neck into his mouth, suctioning onto you like a parasite and rolling your skin between his teeth in a way that hurt more than it helped. Remus is all temperance. He bites you, and then licks it over to make sure you’re soothed. 

The thought occurs to you that maybe you shouldn’t be comparing Remus to someone you actually dated. 

He curls his fingers inside you, and every thought you’ve ever had falls away. All you are is a collection of sensations and wants. 

“You’ve got it, darling, keep going. You’re doing so well.” 

Your fingers and Remus’ working like one mind, until your thighs are shivering and he has to redouble his efforts to keep you still. Your head lolling onto his shoulder, the way his lips transfer to your neck as if it's the most natural thing in the world. His scruff scratching under your jaw, moving as he says your name. 

The myriad of other things he says, sweetheart, baby, good girl, you’re doing so good, growing raspier as the pressure in your core worsens until you worry you’ll shatter if he doesn’t keep ahold of you. 

“Let go,” he instructs, kissing the skin beneath your ear lovingly. “You’re alright, just let go.” 

You choose to trust him, and your body—your being—snaps.

You make sounds you can’t hear, your own fingers stuttering and stopping while Remus works you through the new sensation, murmuring assurances into your skin. Runs his free hand over your trembling thigh. 

Eventually, your mind quiets enough to hear that his breathing is nearly as labored as your own. He slips his fingers out of you. You try to turn around to face him, but your body betrays you, slumping against his front. 

Remus chuckles, smoothing a hand up your side. “Good job, sweetheart. You did beautifully.” He smears a kiss over your cheek. “How was that?” 

You sigh blissfully. Your brain feels pulverized. “Really good.” 

Another soft laugh. “Yeah? Glad to hear it.” 

“Thank you.” You lean your head on his shoulder, trying to look up at him. 

“You’re welcome,” he replies, voice warm with amusement. “Honestly, I should probably be thanking you. I feel quite lucky.” 

You hum bemusedly. Remus’ sex-slicked fingers run lazily over the inside of your thigh. Perhaps your mind is still addled from your orgasm, but this feels incredibly normal to you now. 

“Really? Why?” 

“I just,” he exhales, leaning his head against yours lightly. “I just can’t believe I was the first person to hear you make those sounds.” 

“Oh.” You feel the tickle of embarrassment coming back to you. It draws your shoulders in. “Sorry. Was I very loud?” 

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart.” Remus turns his head, kissing your temple firmly. “You were perfect.” 

[ozarkthedog]

𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐀𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

summary: Declan introduces you to a friend.

pairing: Declan O’Hara x afab!reader / Rupert Campbell Black

warnings: 18+ mdni. filth. unspecified age gap. oral sex (m). Declan calls the shots. fingering. edging. no m/m. slight anal play. dirty talk. squirting. rough sex. Rupert pushing the boundaries aka he’s a menace. cuckhold of sorts. male masturbation. cream pie. light, barely there after care. ep 8 spoilers. w.c: 2.4k

author’s note: i'm a Declan girlie but I had to write something feat. Rupert.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Soft golden rays bleed through the aged windows of the O'Hara estate. Its owner, Declan, sits comfortably on a worn chair in the middle of his study. Books and papers litter the room, even on the small sofa adjacent to the chair. As the fireplace crackles, the bright orange flames warm your skin as you kneel naked between your employer's thighs.

Declan groans as he feeds you his cock. His thighs widen, as much as his unzipped trousers will allow, on the tattered chair, giving you more room to swallow him down. His heart beats steadily under his lush brown sweater as you suckle his cock while looking up at him under your lashes.

Declan enjoyed times like these when the house was empty, and he got you all to himself. With Maud gone, leaving everything to Taggie was unfair, so he caved and hired a housekeeper. Little did he realize he'd fall head over heels for you.

You both took your time dancing around one another like nervous teenagers at a school dance. Harmless flirting and late-night conversations over the meals you'd cook for him led to Declan taking matters into his own hands.

He was used to control. He enjoyed it, really. The power felt comfortable, and he had no issue wielding it.

Declan was still on edge one day after a trifling day at Coriniuim. His usual soak and cig in the tub wasn't helping. The radio was blasting ear-aching songs, and the water was getting too cold too fast, but that all changed when you walked in on him with an armful of fresh towels.

He took a chance, one that could've ended with him locked up, but you didn't run. You followed his dubious commands and let him exert his dominance, allowing him to reign over you.

Since then, you two have been inseparable.

"Ah, right on time," Declan notes, looking at the clock perched on the mantle in his study as the large front door creaks open.

Declan mentioned inviting a friend over earlier in the day, but you didn't think he meant now.

The sight of your wide doe eyes makes his gut fervently twist. He's always appreciated someone yearning after what was his, especially an individual so well-loved by the women of Rutshire.

"Don' stop, Love," Declan instructs. His Irish accent dips low as he curls a solid hand around your head when you start to draw back. Your wary, garbled sounds vibrate Declan's cock eliciting a hiss from his lips. He sends you a pensive look and keeps you locked as the steps draw near. "You know I like people ta watch, but I wan' to try somethin' new."

Your heart lodges in your throat. Declan had divulged this kink not long after the two of you began dating. It was harmless fun flirting with other men while Declan observed from the shadows like a deviant; the journalist grew feral until he could no longer hold himself back, scurrying off with you in his arms, leaving the poor target in a stupor.

No one could ever come close to Declan; you never want them to.

"I seem to have come at a rather inconvenient time, have I not?" A pondering English baritone fills the room.

Rupert Campbell Black.

With arms crossed, the affluent man leans on the rustic doorframe. He catches your uneasy gaze with a cheeky smile, prompting a wildfire in your belly.

Declan shakes his head, his thick mustache ticking excitedly, "Not at all. Come in."

You try to move again, but Declan doesn't budge an inch. Your brows knot in confusion as your hands fly to cover your exposed bits as best you can.

"Say hello, ta Rupert, Swee'heart," Declan instructs, his dark chestnut eyes alight with devilry.

Your gaze trails from the man's supple leather loafers and pressed lined slacks to the sepia colored dress shirt that exposes a svelte chest as the top two buttons are undone. Rupert oozes high society and overt confidence, the kind of man you'd go dumb even looking at.

"My, my, where has Declan been hiding you?" Rupert croons. His azure orbs fixate with dark intrigue at your naked, shivering form.

As you greet Declan's neighbor, a slight garbled noise barely registers to the men. Tauntingly, Rupert leans over and puts a hand behind his ear, "Sorry, Angel. What was that?"

Your belly flips, and butterflies flutter carelessly in the wake of being so degraded. Still, your cunt produces a wave of arousal and clenches around nothing.

Knowing he doesn't have much patience, you chance another look at Declan and wish you hadn't. His white teeth bared, and his lips pulled back into a light sneer, like a wolf facing down prey, waiting for you to heed his command.

Declan bites back a moan at the hedonic sensation of you stringing together a messy greeting for the affluent man.

Rupert snickers. "Aren't you cute."

"Thatta' girl." He praises before thrusting his length into your throat and cutting off your air.

He waits for a beat, relishing in the watery glaze that coats your eyes and how your chest heaves. Fidgety hands dig into his darkened slacks, knocking the loose ends of his belt. Drool spills down your chin and settles at the base of his cock.

"Ya know ya waited too long ta give Rupert a warm welcome." He fumes, his expression twisting lightly with displeasure.   

With a soft growl, Declan eases his grip. You fall back on your heels, a blight, coughing up spittle and trying to suck down fresh air at the same time.

"Might I say, you've got a real treasure here," Rupert leers down at your messy face and spit-soaked breasts that make your nipples shine in the light. "Lovely to meet your acquaintance."

"Though' you migh' like a taste." Declan offers, looking up at Rupert like you weren't perched at their feet, anxiously awaiting their next move.

"Would I ever." A Cheshire grin tugs at Rupert's lips. He makes a show of folding his button-down sleeves over his muscular forearms as he stalks around you.

Declan beckons you with the tilt of his head, "C'mere, Love. I ain't done wit' your mouth."

You sniffle before taking your place between his knees once more. Declan can sense your worry as Rupert traces a finger down your spine while he crouches behind you. "Don' worry abou' him. He won' do anythin' out of line."

Declan taps his bulbous crown against your swollen lips, drawing your attention away from the blue-eyed beau. His sturdy thighs are a protective shield, enveloping you like a fortress from harm.

As curious fingers tickle your sticky thighs, your lips part with a gasp, allowing Declan to thrust into your warm, wet mouth.

"Jesus Christ, she's soaked." Rupert husks as he softly skims your glistening folds. Your cunt throbs from his unfamiliar touch, coursing a frightening spark of arousal up your spine.

"She's not 'ad much experience." Declan hisses as his crown breaches the tight confines of your throat. Your hand tugs at the thick base that's peppered with dark curls, fingers barely overlapping, pumping in time with his languid thrusts across your tongue.

"You don't say." The Englishman trails off, no doubt thinking of all the crude ways he could defile you.

As you start a slow rhythm, bouncing your head up and down Declan's cock, making the older man unashamedly moan, Rupert swipes his fingers across your seam and gathers all your shiny slick, drawing it up to your clit before lazily circling the tender bud.

Bright lights erupt under your eyelids. Blood rushes south, pooling in your core, heightening your suffocating lust as your body bends to his will.

"Ah ah, Angel." Rupert tsks, grabbing hold of your wriggling hips. His grasp keeps you stock still, unable to evade his voracious touch.

The pads of Declan's fingers press into your scalp as a soft warning. "Be good ta Rupert."

Being pushed and pulled between the two older men was agony of the luscious kind. You only knew of Declan's touch, the succulent highs and lows. The amorous sublime.

A gentle hand glides over your ass before massaging the plump cheek. Your frantic cries are a mumbled mess as you're pushed higher and higher into the pleasurable abyss from Rupert's caress.

He winds two fingers into your core, cursing from your tightness, and splays his dexterous digits along your walls. His thumb lands square on your clit, swiping back and forth with prowess. "So sweet and responsive. Such a good girl." he curls his fingers along your walls, drawing pathetic noises from your chest.

Your body rolls like waves, back and forth between the two men. Rupert's teeth sink into the tender skin of your ass before a gentle tongue soothes the marks and trails down the valley of your cheeks, causing you to choke around Declan's cock.

A wad of spit lands directly on your rosebud just before a wicked tongue ravishes the tight, untouched hole.

Your belly drops at his vulgar touch. No one ever touched you there before. A heavy wave of arousal slips from your cunt as you fight the urgent need for release. Rupert moans hungrily as he laps the rim of your ass.

Your incessant wriggling alerts Declan to Rupert's perverted actions.

"What'd I say, ya daft cunt?" Declan fumes. His mustache twitches as he shoots daggers at the man posed behind you.

Rupert swirls his tongue one final time before leaving your rosebud with a loud pop. "Sorry, chap. I forgot you haven't filled all her holes yet." The tug of his lips says otherwise.

Declan mumbles under his breath and leans back in his chair, focusing on you. "What'a fuckin' sight," he grunts, yanking your tear-coated face off his girth. His large hand completely cups the side of your face, making you feel like a doll with glossy, swollen lips as he stares at you like a man possessed.

Rupert twists his wrist, and your eyes grow wide as saucers. The need to come moves to the forefront of your mind. Declan can tell you're fighting, doing everything you can to hold back as you're slowly dragged to the edge.

Your jaw goes slack, and eyelids flutter; you're willing to endure any repercussions for coming without approval, but then Declan stamps your orgasm out just as quickly as it started.

"No, no, no. Don' be greedy," he tsks, shoving your dumbstruck face back down onto his length.

With Declan's cock stretching your lips and drooling pre cum over your taste buds and Rupert curling his fingers into the spongy spot behind your clit, your nerves scream for release.

The insides of your thighs are soaked, slick from want and a need held so close yet so far away. A soft cry falls from your spit-stained lips as Declan snatches your head off his cock and curves a large hand under your chin, holding you like a precious piece of art.

His opaque orbs sweep across your face, wild and feral; he's on the edge of breaking but holds steady like the stubborn man he is.

"Come on, Declan, let the girl come," Rupert implores to the stoic man holding captive your utmost pleasure.

The corner of Declan's lips tilts. He knows what'll happen. He can see it in your face, how truly gone you are, how nearly close the dam is to breaking.

"Go on, show 'im what he's missin', Swee'heart." Declan encourages, finally allowing you the taste you've wanted all this time.

Your body writhes in their combined hold with unkempt ecstasy as a ravenous cry fills the large study. You come like a geyser, locking like a vice around Rupert's fingers, forcing a curse from his lips as you coat his wrist and trousers with your creamy release.

"Jesus-" Rupert moans, dark and depraved, watching with rabid fascination as your core pulses in time to the beat of his heart.

Declan gathers you into his arms, away from the still man, propping your knees on either side of his thighs. "Sit on the couch and watch," he orders a dumbstruck Rupert before easing you down on his swollen cock.

A whimper catches in your throat from the obscene stretch as his girth widens your channel for the first time that day. Declan grabs your ass and steadily bounces you on his length, helping you rise and fall since your legs have turned to jelly.

"Gone so dumb, ya can' even move," Declan mocks. Coarse whiskers chafe your skin as he nibbles your chin, pouring filthy praises against your jaw, "Still so tight. Maybe two cocks'll do the trick," he drives his girth into your exhausted body. "Wan' your pretty cunt gapin' fa' me."

The seam of his brown sweater grazes your clit on every thrust; the fibers are soft yet overstimulating, your body boils, on the verge of combusting, and there's nothing you can do.  

A low moan catches your attention, dragging you from your frenzied state. As you turn your head to find the strange noise, you see Rupert with his swollen cock in his hand, barely out of his trousers. His cock weeps, the bulbous tip pulsing red, while he sucks your juices off his glistening fingers like a man starved for days.

His animalistic gaze bores into where you and Declan connect. You can imagine how obscene it is. Declan's sticky balls thwap immorally against your ass. Sticky sounds bounce off the walls as he draws more slick from your core, staining the base of his cock in a creamy ring.

Rupert's eyes flit to yours. You silently mouth his name, playing with the man who's used the women of Rutshire like a kid with infinite toys. The subtle action pushes the posh man over the edge.

Biting his knuckles, Rupert spills over his other set with a ragged string of grunts. The image sets off a chain reaction. You follow suit, crying as you come around Declan's cock, and dragging your other half with you. Declan's thick brows furrow, groaning his ecstasy as he fills you with ropes of white.

The three of you gradually come down from the hedonistic scene. Your hearts beat to their natural rhythm as the birds outside sing a dusk setting song.

"T'was lovely to meet you, Angel," Rupert flirts, cleaning his cock with a handkerchief before tucking himself into his trousers. "Hope to see you again real soon."

"Fuck off, Rupert," Declan quips, jutting his chin toward the door.

Rupert sends you a wink before rounding the couch and exits with the fattest smile you've ever seen.

Declan mumbles under his breath and curls his arms around you. He tucks your head under his chin, letting you unwind comfortably before the crackling fire.

"Was that okay, Swee'heart?" Declan's asks with softened eyes.

With a satisfied sigh, you snuggle deeper into his hold, seeking the warmth and protective embrace he can only give. "More than."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[fangswbenefits]

Questions

Summary: Your curiosity drives you to ask Astarion a very unexpected question, and he's more than happy to give you a proper reply.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Innocent/inexperienced Tav being a tease. Precum. Praise kink. Oral sex (mild). Edging. Body worship. PiV. Creampie.

Word count: 2.7k

“What does an erection feel like?”

Astarion nearly dropped the dagger in his hand.

He was effectively caught off guard in a way that made him blink.

Twice.

“What?”

“What does an erection feel like?” 

You were smiling so sweetly and innocently that to an outsider, it might seem you had just asked him to fetch you a cup of tea.

He was officially stunned into silence and not many could take pride in such an accomplishment.

But you.

You had a way with words that could have his head throb from annoyance as well as his cock throbbing from lust.

Your hands were laced behind your back as you took sure steps in his direction with a sweet smile dancing on your lips.

He glanced around the forest clearing, quite taken aback by your sudden bluntness in such matters.

“And what prompted such a thought in that pretty little head of yours?”

With your smile spreading wider, you came to a full stop in front of him just as he sheathed the dagger at his hip once again.

“I was just wondering,” you said with a mere shrug. “I mean, I already know how it feels when… when we…”

“Fuck?”

Astarion would seldom be this forthcoming with you, but he truly enjoyed how you’d fluster so easily for him and from his choice of words.

You nodded.

Gods. 

He would never tire of how adorably oblivious you could be to your effect on him. 

“So you want to know how it feels for me, is that it?”

You nodded again, rooted in place as he began circling you like a predator studying its prey. Such an intrusive yet unbelievably arousing question had him almost salivating for the tease he was about to shower you with.

“As selfless as I am, darling,” he began with a tut, inching closer and closer to you. “I would like to know what I’d get in exchange for this delicate information.” 

He saw you swallow, still holding a sweet smile. “What would you want?”

Feigning pensiveness, he cleared a few specs of pollen that had gathered on your shoulders. “A kiss.”

“Where?”

Astarion would love to immediately sink you on your knees and have you plant the softest kisses along his cock.

But he would have to start slow with you, so he could revel in your inexperience.

He tapped his cheek twice with his finger, now close enough that he could feel your warmth. 

“So… a kiss for each piece of information?”

He grinned approvingly. “Lovely idea, darling.”

You closed the gap and moved to press your heated lips on his cheek.

It came as no surprise that he began to feel the faintest stir down below, letting him know just how weak he was to your sweet advances. But what truly made his cock harden even more was knowing you weren’t actively trying to seduce him.

You were too innocent to think a simple kiss to his cheek could turn him on.

So he’d let you know.

He’d show you.

“It feels very, very distracting,” he started, already mourning your warmth when you pulled away. “Especially when it’s due to sexual arousal.”

You blinked, waiting for him to go on, but what you didn’t know was that Astarion wasn’t one for charity.

Even when it came to you.

“Well? How about another kiss?”

You flinched. “Oh! Right… where?”

Oh, you were making this so easy for him. 

He would be fully hard in no time if he played his cards right with you.

So, he tapped his lips.

And you didn’t even hesitate to press a fleeting kiss on them.

But before you could move away, he gripped your wrist. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted, holding you in place. “A proper kiss.”

“That was a proper kiss.”

“Not if I can’t even taste you,” he said with a dramatic pout.

You nodded, promptly taking his lips in yours in a rather chaste kiss, and then Astarion went in for the kill.

He could always taste the inexperience and hesitancy whenever you gave himself to him like this. Masterfully, he parted your lips with his skilled tongue, and nearly groaned from how receptive you were to him.

The familiar lull of a throb around his cock was almost too distracting and he had to fight back the urge to immediately pull your body fully against his, so he could grind on you.

Surprisingly enough, and before he could tease your tongue with his fangs, you broke the kiss.

“Astarion, you’re not playing fair,” you said with that adorable pout that always made him want to have you on all fours for him.

But besides that, Astarion was not one to play fair, yet he’d make a single exception just for you and this specific moment.

He was too eager to entertain your unexpected curiosity.

He smiled innocently. “I do apologise for getting ahead of myself. It’s hard not to with you…”

And he truly meant it.

You were an exercise on self-restraint and he wished he could lavish you in bliss whenever possible. But he also knew you needed your space and to also be the one to take initiative, so he’d often patiently wait for your move.

And what a move this was.

His trousers felt too tight already, and he had to adjust his growing erection with one hand, which evidently caught your eye.

“Are you hard already?”

Already?

As if it was a hard feat with you being such a tease…

“I will show you if you give me your hand,” he proposed deviously. “It would be easier for me… and you.”

You gave him an adorable wicked smile as you placed your hand in his. “Surely you must remember how it feels without having to have one.”

What a tease.

Your words sent a couple of jolts of pleasure straight to his swelling cock, intensifying the pulsing.

He guided your hand to his crotch, and couldn’t hold back the grunt that rumbled in his chest as you gave him a tentative squeeze.

You delectable little minx…

“How does it feel?” you said, smile never wavering.

“Extremely distracting… and pleasurable.”

Another squeeze.

“What else?”

He would come undone in his trousers if you kept pushing him like this. 

“I feel the urge to be inside you.”

Your eyes widened. “Does it hurt?”

He shook his head, feeling his cock twitch under your palm. “No. But I would very much like to press you up against the nearest tree and slide it inside you.”

Maybe he wasn’t as patient as he thought he was.

Maybe he didn’t really have time to play his cards right.

He was so incredibly turned he thought he could easily die again just from the tease and frustration.

Unexpectedly, you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his other cheek.

“Can I… touch it? Will you tell me how my hand feels?”

Astarion nearly froze at your seemingly innocent suggestions.

Perhaps his love for debauchery was contagious and you were catching up and learning from him. Not that he was complaining, but his endurance might be at stake should you continue to further edge him with your sweetened words.

“You can do whatever you want,” he simply said, driven by the lust and agonising need for release.

And then you did something that nearly made his eyes bulge out.

You kneeled in front of him.

Gods above…

Eyes fixed on his as you struggled to undo the lacing at the front of his trousers.

The first beads of precum had already begun to drip from his tip.

He hurriedly helped you, fingers quickly loosening the fabric and creating an opening for you to take the next step.

And you did.

With another sweetly innocent smile, you pulled his trousers down just enough for his cock to bounce free, earning a sigh of relief from him.

Your fingers wrapped around him and his hips instinctively bucked from the sudden squeeze.

“How does it feel?”

Astarion wasn’t a man to be at a loss for words, but he couldn’t bring himself to string a couple together to answer you.

A single string of precum dangled from the tip and he now knew he needed to feel more of you or he might lose it.

“A kiss…” he said almost pleadingly, placing one hand in the back of your head.

You offered him a pout. “Where?”

He closed his eyes and let out a growl, rolling his hips as he fucked your hand.

“Gods…” he moaned aloud when your warm lips touched the swollen tip of his cock.

This had his eyelids snap open at once just so he could marvel at the sight of his precum dribbling down your chin.

But the near blinding pleasurable sensation came to a halt as you pulled back, darting your tongue along your lower lip.

“Tell me…”

Then you were on your feet again, but never letting go of his cock.

“I really want to ravish you…” he said impatiently, slowly taking a few steps into you, so you would walk back.

“Why?”

He wanted to fuck you.

No.

He needed to fuck you.

“Why what?” he growled, removing your hand from his throbbing cock, which earned a whine from you. “You keep touching me like that and teasing me with your words, and I will not last.”

In fact, he had lasted longer than he had expected, given the torture you were submitting him to.

“Was that your plan all along, my sweet?”

You shook your head, nearly tripping on a single twisting root that emerged from the ground.”No! I - I was simply… curious…”

Oh, he was going to adore making you sing for him. 

“Were you really?” 

Your back was soon pressed against a large oak tree and the most devious of smiles crept into his face.

He had you just where he wanted.

“You wanted to know how an erection feels, did you not?”

You bit your lip with a curt nod.

“I can tell you how it feels inside you,” he taunted, lips close to your ear and cock pressed against your shirt, staining it with precum. “Would you like that, darling?”

Your reply came in the form of a gasp that he quickly swallowed with a kiss, gripping your chin in between his fingers and applying enough pressure so that you’d part your lips for him.

You quickly caved in with a strained moan and his tongue slipped inside so he could taste your innocence.

Dexterity wasn’t a skill for everyone, but it was one he had harnessed and honed over centuries, and it came in handy in a vast array of situations.

Being able to undo your trousers with the fingers of a single hand was the one he was most proud of.

He felt you melt into him as he tugged at the tight fabric before yanking them down, and all of this without breaking the hungry and urgent kiss.

With a single finger he realised just how soaked you were for him, which was to be expected. Your body reacted to him in a way that further reinforced his devotion to you. It stroked his ego in the right places and tugged at the frayed ends of his sanity.

This time, he was the one pulling away, so he could drop on both knees as if readying himself for a prayer.

Your eyes were half-closed and heavy with the overwhelming weight of desire when you stared down at him.

With two fingers, he parted your folds and saw the delicious throbbing swell inviting him in.

And who was he to deny such invitation?

He leaned in and pressed a soft and lingering kiss on it, proud to earn the most adorable whimper from you as your hands flew to tangle in his curls.

“Astarion…”

He would die a thousand times over just for your praise and for your pleasure.

Nothing made him harder than your sweet cries as his name rolled out of your tongue.

He pressed two more kisses before raising to his full height again and chuckling in your ear. “You’re ready for me.”

You nodded eagerly.

Your despair was so adorable he could come just from how you were desperately grinding against him, the lower half of your shirt drenched in his precum.

With one hand, he pulled your leg up and apart just enough to grant him full access to you.

With the other, he angled himself at your entrance and was met with barely any resistance as he slowly pushed inside, grunting as you immediately began to tighten around him.

“Do try to relax, darling… allow me to at least bury myself fully inside.”

But he knew all too well it was merely wishful thinking.

He was getting undeniably closer to the point of no return.

You did try to comply with his request, lopping your arms around his next for added support as he pushed further inside. However, he was aware you couldn’t fully help but to instinctively clamp around his cock, squeezing his bulging veins and welcoming his precum.

His lips were on your ear once again. “You feel divine and I don’t think you need my words to know that.”

The first thrust dragged a soft mewl out of you and he held your leg in place, knowing all too well your knees would soon buck under you from the sensation of being fucked so deligently.

At this point, he was edging himself once he managed to set a steady pace, wet and sloppy sounds filling his ears.

You always took him so well.

He glanced down just so he could witness your wetness coating his cock each time he pulled back, only to ram it back inside with a desperate grunt.

“So… i-it feels really good, right?”

His eyes met yours and his rhythm faltered momentarily as he was surprised you were still trying hellsbent on getting your question answered.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he growled, his balls beginning to tighten as he reached the edge. “It feels ridiculously good.”

You immediately clenched.

Of course you did. 

You adored being praised and being shown you were taking him so well.

Not wanting to reach his peak himself as your contractions would aid him reaching his, he pressed the pad of his thumb against your pulsing swell and rubbed measured circles around it.

“Let go, darling,” he urged, his voice strained as he struggled to keep his focus. “I’ll catch you.”

He quickened his pace, entering the final stages of his insenset climb to the height of his bliss. His hips snapped more vigorously, the lewd sounds that he drew from you further testing his sanity.

You came first as intended, squeezing so hard around him he could no longer keep his eyes open and having to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

His name spilled from your lips like a broken prayer that any self-deserving God above would be a fool to ignore.

Someone this divine deserved to be heard throughout Faerûn and Astarion took immense pleasure knowing he was the source of your immeasurable pleasure.

As your contractions caused you to squeeze tightly around him, he felt himself let go and immediately felt his own bliss wash down over him, his lower abdomen rhythmically contracting and his balls rise up as the first ropes of cum began to shoot inside you.

He let out a guttural groan as he stilled as deep as he could, eager to feel his cum begin to slide out.

He would always come too hard and too much for you.

The amount of cum always surprised him, but he had grown to accept he was meant to fill you to the brim with his seed.

Surely enough and your contractions began to subside, he felt a few droplets drip out.

He pulled his head back so he could see just how flustered and out of breath you were because of him.

“Did that answer your question?”

Your laboured breaths were too endearing and he smiled proudly.

You swallowed hard. “You cheated…”

He gasped dramatically, still buried inside you. “I did no such thing. I simply found a better way to satisfy your mind, darling.”

Masterlist

[ahollowgrave]

🐱 for moderately intimidating

You're so nice...but!! You're also super cool and inspiring, and very appreciated. Admired!

what crazy things to type because I think YOU are the super cool and inspiring one!!!! I love when we get to catch up and RP!!!! blowing you kisses!!!