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honeyed-hedonist · 8 months ago

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Parings: Jason Todd x afab!Reader Word Count: 4.4k Warnings: SMUT—MINORS DNI. mentions of blood, gore, and violence, oral (f & m receiving), lots of teasing, degradation (jason todd is a big meanie), a lil bit of a size kink if you squint (hims a big, big boy), an obscene amount of dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, jason has multiple orgasms (he’s got stamina, baybee), creampie, cum swapping, and, as always, declarations of love (barf). A/N: I wrote this for my sweet baby angel @heli0s-writes in a little fic swap we’re having because we like to scream at each other about all the fictional men we want to rail us into a pulp. I love you! I hope this makes your brain melt. Tehe 😈 (Reposting from my former blog)

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Jason Todd is a menace. The absolute bane of your existence.

Who does he think he is banging on your door at 3:45 in the morning? As if your neighbors needed another reason to gossip about you. Nevermind all the probing questions that were poorly masked as casual conversation when you were using the on-site laundry room or grabbing your mail. If you had to hear “So, you and Red Hood, huh?” one more time, you were going to rip your hair out.

But Jason has always been brazen—not much has changed since the day you found him bleeding out in an alley between your apartment building and the pet shelter next door. He had a gunshot wound, lacerations over damn near every square inch of him, his mask all but shattered and exposing most of his face to you as you did your best to haul his massive frame up from the ground to drag him inside and patch him up. He had grinned at you the entire time, flirted with you while you fished the bullet out, asked you to dinner as you wiped the grit and grime off of his neck and chest. He hasn’t left you alone since.

You love him, of course. How can you not? He’s 6’4” of muscled steel, all wrapped up in a handsome, roguish bow with a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind. Any woman alive would be hard-pressed to resist his charms and you’re no exception, but it’s difficult to remember those warm, fuzzy feelings when he’s pounding on your door hard enough to wake the dead.

With bleary eyes, you unlatch the locks and yank it open, hissing at him as you fist your hand into the lapel of his jacket and tug him inside, ignoring the wide-eyed look on your neighbor’s face from across the hall. Your annoyance is overshadowing the rest of your senses, so you don’t see the tent in his pants, don’t notice his lust-blown pupils when he shucks his helmet off and throws it aside. Instead, you whirl on him, an accusatory finger pointed squarely at his chest in preparation to scold him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Why couldn’t you just come in through the window? I keep it unlocked for this exact reason, Jason! You stubborn fucking ass—mmph!” His mouth is on you instantly—demanding and desperate as he crashes his lips into yours, uninterested in hearing your lecture. His gloved hands lift you off the floor in one fluid motion that has you instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips. You feel it then, the heavy, hard length of him trapped between your bodies and you gasp, an action that he capitalizes on by shoving his tongue past your teeth and into the back of your throat.

The tang of coppery blood fills your mouth and has you retreating, pushing back on his chest to look at him, but he’s right there chasing your mouth, walking blindly towards your kitchen table to set you down. “Jay—honey, wait. Are you—fuck!” His teeth are sharp against your throat, silencing your protest with the harsh sting of pain, grunting as he grinds his hips between your spread thighs.

“Shut up,” He growls, voice low and dangerous, sending your synapses into overdrive, drowning out what little restraint you have left. “Need to be inside you. Need to hear those sweet sounds, baby, just—let me.” Jason’s fingers are shaking when he moves to peel your shirt off, and you know it’s the adrenaline, that he’s high from the violence of his nightly patrol, teetering on the edge of losing control. These nights, you think, are the ones he needs you the most—seeking salvation with your body, tunneling his way to absolution with powerful thrusts of his hips, because if you can love all the fucked up parts of him, can love him even after all of his mistakes, then maybe, in his mind, he’s worth something afterall.

So you nod, your own hands making quick work of the kevlar and leather he’s covered in, helping him shed layer after layer of it off until he’s bare chested and heaving with labored breaths. It’s then that you notice the gashes that cut diagonally across his collarbone, the skin ripped in a way that makes you shudder. Claws? A serrated knife? You can only imagine the kind of monsters he grappled with tonight. His chest is smeared with congealed, drying blood, a trail of it leading down his stomach, seeping into his briefs and tactical pants, staining the tuft of coarse, dark hair that leads to his pubic bone an ugly shade of rust.

His eyes have turned shark-like—a depthless obsidian that makes him look possessed, the usual crystalline blue almost completely eclipsed by his blown out pupils. You should be terrified by the sight, the danger lurking within that endless dark, but your demons have always called to his, so all it does is stoke the flames now licking their way down your spine to pool between your legs. His gaze shifts the second your hands fall to your panties, exhaling a shaky breath as you try to wiggle out of them, to grant him access to the part of you that only he gets to explore.

Jason snarls then, swatting your hands away to rip the flimsy strip of cotton clean off, tossing it over his shoulder where it floats delicately to the floor in shredded ribbons of fabric. And then he’s on his knees, dropping to your floor with a loud thud that has the knick knacks hanging on your walls tinkling with vibration from the force of his herculean frame hitting the laminate. He scoots closer, boots scuffing your floor, the heat of his stare now focused on your puffy slit. Every exhale is a rumbling growl, hot breath fanning out against your pussy as he inches closer and you bite your lip, ready to muffle the sound you know he’s going to tear from your throat the second he puts his mouth on you.

Warm, calloused hands skate up the insides of your thighs, throwing them open even wider to accommodate the width of his shoulders when he leans in. Jason’s nose settles against your slit and he inhales, breathing in the musky scent of your arousal. It leaves you frozen in place, barely breathing when you watch his eyes roll back with pleasure. It sends your pulse straight to your clit and you whimper, the sound acting as a catalyst for him to dive in tongue-first and lick a wet stripe through your folds. He moans at the taste of you, a deep, salacious vibration of sound that rattles your bones. It has you hooking your hands around the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip, mouth slack when Jason’s deft tongue and plush lips begin to work you over.

He’s precise and purposeful when he eats you out—applying just the right amount of pressure, finding the perfect moments to snag that bundle of nerves with his teeth, gumming at your velvety cunt with his mouth, his tongue attuned to your every need. It takes him no time at all until you’re whining, begging like a god damn harlot, your fingers wound harshly into the roots of his hair, pulling him in, fucking yourself on his face. His girl. Perfect and needy, just the way he likes you.

But, again, Jason Todd is a fucking menace, glancing up at you with that wild look in his eyes, clocking the way your eyebrows are knitted together, the way you��ve got him pressed so deeply between your legs that he can barely breathe—he knows you’re close, can feel your thighs trembling against his ears. He waits, feasts on you until your eyes roll back into your skull, until he knows you’re about to rocket into a release—and then he stops, withdraws his mouth—a mouth that’s glistening with evidence of your pleasure, and offers you a sadistic smile.

“You thought I was gonna let you cum, princess?” He goads, swatting at your pussy hard enough that it sends you reeling, your body jerking with a yelp. “Nah…Tonight you cum on my cock and nowhere else.” Jason rocks back on his heels and stands, towering over you, crowding your space as he takes your jaw in his hand, his grip hard and unforgiving. “Do you understand me?”

There’s a war happening in your mind, because you know he needs this control, know he’s standing on a very dangerous ledge and you have to tread carefully, but fuck if you don’t want to cop an attitude, push him right off that cliff just to see what he’ll do. Seconds tick by like minutes, his eyes bouncing between yours, expectancy evident on his handsome face while you contemplate how much you value the use of your legs and whether you’ll need them tomorrow.

“I don’t take orders from you, Todd,” You spit, jerking your chin free from his hold. Curiosity has clearly gotten the better of you, and the fire your response sets ablaze in Jason’s eyes has your stomach flipping. His mouth curls into a wicked little smirk, and then you feel that same hand of his wrap around your throat and squeeze; hard.

He bends forward, bringing his lips to the shell of your ear, tongue tracing the edge of the cartilage. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, hmm?” Your breath hitches at the gravel in his tone, and now you know without a doubt that you won’t be doing any walking tomorrow, let alone moving. Thank god you have some PTO saved up.

Jason’s spine straightens when he yanks you off the table, the movement so fast you don’t have enough time to process what’s happening until your ass hits the floor and you wince. “Well, would ya lookit that.” He mocks, palm slapping against your cheek before he’s hooking two fingers into your mouth to suppress your tongue. “Since you’re down there already—might as well make yourself useful, yeah?”

Fuck. Sometimes you forget the cruelty he’s capable of, the way he can talk so mean, degrade and embarrass you for the sake of your shared pleasure. It’s exactly what you asked for, and he always delivers. With blush stained cheeks, your face pinched in a glare, you reach for his pants, popping the button open, tugging the zipper down, and shucking the blood-stained bottoms and cotton briefs to his knees. What you’re met with has your jaw working, saliva pooling behind your teeth because goddamn is he hung.

Jason is fucking massive everywhere, so it goes without saying that his dick would carry some weight, but it still astonishes you every single time you see it. Bobbing invitingly in your face, angry red at the tip and oozing precum, veins prominent and pulsing along the shaft just begging for attention, his cock sits proudly above an even heftier set of balls, and you clench remembering just how good they feel smacking your sensitive clit when he pounds you out from behind.

His fingers are still playing against your tongue, sliding over the wet muscle until he breaches the back of your throat and you choke. There’s drool seeping past his knuckles, dribbling onto your chest, and he hums his approval, eyes glittering with the promise of what’s to come. One last pass of his calloused digits before he’s angling his tip and pushing his length into the wet heat of your mouth with a grunt. “This is a much better use for that mouth of yours, don’t you agree, princess?” Jason coos at you, pressing forward until your eyes screw shut, tears trickling down your cheeks when his cock seats itself deep in your esophagus. “That’s a good girl—open up that throat for me. Yeah, just like that—fuck.”

Soggy, spit covered fingers curl against the crown of your head as Jason begins to thrust, fucking your mouth. Your eyes are blurry, crossing each time he bottoms out, breathing harshly through your nose with every withdrawal, your palms digging into the meat of his thighs to keep you steady, to keep you rooted enough to take his assault. Over and over again he drives his hips forward, the slippery sound of the suction of your lips is so fucking obscene it makes you moan. That filthy, wet squelch ringing out as more saliva trickles from the corners of your mouth, bubbling up in sloppy arcs that web between your chin and his cock, matting into his pubic hair, commingling with the remnants of his blood.

You’re sure your face is stained pink from it by now, and you couldn’t care less, not when Jason’s face is twisted so beautifully above you—jaw slack and cheeks red, sweat marring his brow, hair curling at his temples and the nape of his neck. He looks so goddamn pretty when he loses himself in you like this that it makes the ache in your throat worth it, makes tomorrow’s hoarseness a welcome battlescar if only for the vision of him lost in the throes of violent passion above you right now. “Shit—m’gonna cum, princess. S’too good, I can’t—”

You slip your hand beneath your chin, between your bodies, cupping his balls, teasing them, rolling them in your palm, and he roars, bottoming out to cum down your throat. His cock pulses against your tongue and you wiggle it against his length appreciatively, humming while you swallow down spurt after spurt of milky semen until he’s pulling out with a hiss. Jason’s big hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up while he huffs. “Best little cocksucker, baby, but I’m nowhere near finished with you yet.”

Before you can blink. Jason hauls you up and deposits you right back onto the kitchen table, throwing your legs open. Letting out a low whistle, he drags the pad of his thumb up through your folds, swiping over your throbbing clit with a chuckle. “Such a pretty little pussy, hm? So eager, so fuckin’ desperate, clenching around nothing at all. You just wanna be full, don’t you?” He goads, slotting his hips between your thighs, letting the heavy weight of his dick slap against your sensitive pearl until you’re mewling, fingernails biting into his forearms.

“Jay—please,” You whine, your voice scratchy and rough, and he shakes his head, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth while his eyes make a slow trek up to meet yours.

“After your little performance? Not a chance, sweetheart. I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready, but for now? For now you’re gonna put on a show for me. Let me see how you stuff that needy cunt when I’m not here.” He smirks viciously down at you, wrapping his fist around his length, pumping slow and languid while your face heats with embarrassment.

The weight of his stare presses down on you, hot and heavy, as you guide a trembling hand between your legs, fingers dipping through your slick, peeling your lower lips apart with a breathy sigh. Despite his bravado, you know how bad he wants to be buried in your heat, cock shoved so deep that the tip batters against your cervix. It’s that thought alone that spurs you on, two fingers pushing into that wet, hungry hole with a moan. You hook them upwards, seeking, pressing against that tender little spot that makes your back arch, fucking yourself while he watches, his muscles coiled in waiting like a predator about to strike. It’s maddening—no matter how fast or how hard your fingers work into your pussy, it’s not enough, it’s never enough and he knows it.

“Feels good, huh, princess?” Jason huffs, pumping his dick while he watches you, taunting you with his words. “But you want more—can see it on that pretty face. Those little fingers just don’t cut it, do they? Course not, you need more. Need this fat cock, don’t you?” The whine that pours out of your throat is meek and pathetic, because he’s right and you can’t hide from him—not when you’re splayed out so beautifully like this.

How many nights have you spent lying on your sheets chasing an unsatisfying release at your own hands. It’s never as good as it is with him, because Jason knows you. Knows all the ways to make you keen and writhe and burst. “Go on,” He says, “let me hear you say it. Beg me real nice and I might give you what you want.”

God damn him, you think, because he never makes it easy, not on nights like this when the battle is still fresh in his mind, when the adrenaline is still plowing through his veins. And god damn you if it doesn’t light you right up, heating the already charged air between you both. Your head falls back with a thud against the table and he tuts at you, pulling your gaze back where he wants it—on him. There’s a lump in your throat despite your fingers still working your cunt, the shame of having to beg both igniting your desire and stoking the fire of your petulance. Gritting your teeth, you spit the words he wants to hear at him with indignant venom. “Please, Jason. Want—need your cock. Fuck me, baby, just—” He chuckles darkly, free hand moving to grip your chin, his thumb stroking the hinge of your jaw.

“Oh, I think you can do better than that.” Jason sucks a breath in through his teeth, his handsome face scrunched up with pleasure, and you catch sight of his other thumb swabbing over the tip of his cock, still rock hard and leaking between his clenched fist. “Try again.”

“Fuck!” You spit, fingers soaked as they dive in and out of your pussy with delicious friction. Swallowing what remains of your stubborn pride, you gaze at Jason from beneath your lashes, your eyebrows furrowing, features turning soft and pleading. “Please, baby,” Your voice lifts an octave higher—whiney, simpering—and it works. Jason groans, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Fuck me, baby. Please fuck me. Need you, need that cock—please? M’so empty without it. Wanna cum all over you, Jason. Please!”

“That’s my girl,” He croons, tilting his head to capture your mouth in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else, distracting you enough that you cling to him, fingers carding through his hair while the head of his cock prods through your slit until it catches on your opening and he drives his hips forward, stretching you apart in one powerful, rough thrust.

It forces a scream from your throat that he swallows, bottoming out until his pelvis rests flat against the pocket of fat above your pussy. “Fuck—give me your fingers, baby. Put ‘em in my mouth.” Jason commands, and you know exactly what he wants, bringing your damp middle fingers up to his face, letting him suck the remnants of your efforts from your skin. You watch, hypnotized, as his eyes roll back and he starts to move, his teeth sinking into the digits while he fucks you.

There’s nothing quite like having a cunt full of Jason Todd. The sting that comes from the sheer size of his dick, the way it stretches you to your very limits, those gummy walls forced open wide to accept every angry stab of his length. He bullies his cock into you, pounds hard enough that your kitchen table slides across the floor with each stroke. But he follows right along with it, hammering into you while his tongue slides between your fingers, sucking on them like a damn pacifier. It’s sinful, filthy, and raw—makes you absolutely feral, crying out for him over and over again, free hand dragging harsh lines down his muscled back so hard you’re certain you’ve broken the skin.

“Mhmm,” he hums, letting your fingers fall from his mouth. “I know, baby. I fucking know—swear to god you were made for me. Take my cock so fucking well—shit!” He growls, righting his posture and reaching for your ankles. Jason locks both of them in one hand, closing your thighs together, making you even tighter, the fat lips of your pussy peeking out between your legs. The sight has Jason grunting like a wild animal. “That’s my pussy, huh?” He asks and you nod, completely lost to the mind-numbing pleasure he’s supplying. “Know it is. Always gonna be mine, baby. Gonna ruin this little cunt for anyone else. Gonna wreck it.”

The world shrinks until it’s just you and Jason, no concern for your neighbors who can undoubtedly hear the way your kitchen table knocks against the wall every time he pounds his dick into your pussy, not a single care other than him and the way he loves you—the brutal way he fucks you. Resting both of your legs against the side of his chest that isn’t cut open, he hugs them close, looks down at you, and god, you’ve never seen him quite like this. It’s mesmerizing.

And then he’s spreading your legs, pushing your shins up and into your chest, folding you in half. The new angle sends his cock even deeper, and you let out another rapturous cry, each stroke pummeling your cervix. He shushes you, fingers mashing your cheeks together in a tight grip. “Eyes on me, princess. Wanna see you fall apart.”

So you watch, helpless and at his mercy, when his free hand wedges between your legs, fingers seeking out the place where you’re stretched around his dick, stroking it lovingly before moving his attention to your stiff, aching bud. Jason tilts his head, dropping his chin to his chest, letting a drizzle of spit cascade down between you. It hits its mark, splashing against the hood of your clit and rolling down until he catches it with his thumb, sluicing it up and over your pearl.

“Don’t you dare hold back.” He commands, and all you can do is nod, tits practically tucked under your chin, body jolting from his incessant, endless assault. And then his fingers start to move and you wail. The friction is a welcome respite from the brutal way he’s handling you. Jason plays your clit like he knows what you’re feeling, flicking and tugging, applying enough pressure that the heat beginning to bloom in your belly burns hotter, a blazing inferno that’s about to consume you. “That’s it, let it out. Come on, angel, give it to me. Soak my fucking thighs.”

There’s always this brief moment before you cum—the universe stilling for the tiniest of seconds right before you unravel. You lock eyes with Jason in that instant, lip pinched between your teeth to try and muffle the noise you’re making. He nods at you, encourages you to let it go, tells you that he’s got you with just the look in his eyes, and it’s the truth. When time catches up to you in the next blink of your eyes, you fucking explode. Your back arches, knees slamming into your chest while you scream and quake beneath him. Jason wrangles you through your convulsions, pins your limbs to the table, coos and hushes you, lavishes you with praise while your cunt gushes around the intrusion of his cock. And what a fucking mess you’ve made.

His teeth grit when he feels your cum wet his stomach and thighs, dribbling down his balls, and that’s the final nail in the coffin for Jason. With a roar of your name, he pumps into you a final time before he, too, loses himself. Jason cums hard—so hard that he damn near goes blind and deaf, vision whiting out, ears ringing as he empties himself into your swollen, fucked out pussy. It’s endless, the thick ropes of spend that now paint your insides. So much that you can’t contain it, a few errant, creamy strands dripping out of the place your bodies are joined.

When he blinks his eyes open again, he catches as much as he can on his fingers, licks it into his mouth, and yanks you into his arms to kiss you. You’re barely conscious, but you kiss him back anyways, and Jason can’t stop the smile that curls his lips as he feeds you his cum from the tip of his tongue. Brushing your sweat matted hair off your forehead, his smile widens, peppering your reddened face with kisses. “You still with me, baby? Or have I fucked you stupid again?”

A halfhearted swat to the side of his head is your answer, and he laughs, the sound warm and infectious. There’s something so sweet about his laugh, it’s always made your chest swell, deep and gruff and perfect��just like him. You both stay locked together, his arms around you in a tight embrace, until your mind finally floats back into your body enough for you to remember how to be a person again. “Hey—as incredible as that was, and don’t you dare get an ego about it—you’re still very fucking injured, Jason.”

Another laugh, his lips smacking against yours in a final peck that has you grinning right back at him. “Yeah, alright, I hear you, boss.” Jason teases, right before easing his softening cock from inside you. There are wounds that need tending, but he’s not quite ready to let go of this moment, feeling whole with your body wrapped up in his arms. He presses his forehead to yours once more, warm breath fanning out against your heated skin. “I love you, baby.” He whispers it, soft and sweet, your heart melting at the declaration.

It’s a sentiment you return without hesitation, arms moving to cup his face—your whole world now held between the palms of your hands—and tilt his face back to level him with your stare. “I love you,” you answer, conviction heavy in your voice as you brush your nose against his “always.” Jason’s breath hitches in his chest, because nothing on this earth could have ever prepared him for the peace, the utter tranquility that loving you and being loved by you has brought him. Despite the lump in his throat, the tears misting his gaze, he echoes “always,” right back to you, kissing you tenderly until you’re both dizzy, until the world around you fades once again, until all that’s left is you and him. Just the way you like it.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #fanfic #jason todd fanfic #red hood fanfic #fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #DC comics

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softfem-dom · 1 month ago

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john travolta's characters masterlist

navigation post bot m. list main m. list

🥥 = angst 🌪 = fluff 🤍 = smut 💿 = crack

DANNY ZUKO grease™

head canons :

how good are they in bed? 🤍 featuring different john travolta characters in a raking from best to worse in the sheets.

fics / one - shots :

a mess of travoltas 💿 incorrect quotes about the different travoltaverse y/n's getting mixed up

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pretty boy coded ,, danny as ur bf kinda

TONY MANERO saturday night fever™

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how good are they in bed? 🤍 featuring different john travolta characters in a raking from best to worse in the sheets.

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a mess of travoltas 💿 incorrect quotes about the different travoltaverse y/n's getting mixed up giving him a blowjob with lipstick on 🤍 he can't help himself, he just wants to ruin your pretty makeup even more.

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a real man? ,, canon

VINCENT VEGA pulp fiction™

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the daughter s bodyguard ,, teen! CEO's daughter! reader AU

GABRIEL SHEAR swordfish™

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ARCHANGEL MICHAEL michael™

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BUD DAVIS urban cowboy™

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JAMES UBRIACCO look who's talking™

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WOODY STEVENS wild hogs™

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CHARLIE REED old dogs™

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softfem-dom© do not repost!! 🦢

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galacticdominance · 4 months ago

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More Pulp Femdom

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lovelytsunoda · 2 months ago

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sweet sounds of heaven | logan sargeant

summary: for two rival bookstore employees vying for promotion, a freak snowstorm trapping them inside the small bookstore may just show them that instead of screwing each other over, maybe they should just be . . . screwing.

pairing: college!logan sargeant x college!female reader

warnings: 18+ for smut, rivals to lovers, sex in a book store, freak weather event or act of god? im a sucker for stories about adorable nerdy girls getting (lovingly) railed by equally sexy nerdy guys. there may or may not be inappropriate use of a wool scarf (read it and find out!)

the cozy store was calm and empty, snow falling rapidly outside. the radio was humming the old bing crosby version of 'white christmas' and the fire in the reading room was pleasantly roaring. she watched the last few customers leave , closing and locking the front door behind them. after flipping the sign from open to closed, she set off towards the break room, knocking on the locked door.

"logan, you better not be vaping in there! not only is it a fire hazard, it will piss mrs. christodolou off to no end. you should be out here helping me clean up after story time."

inside the break room, logan rolled his eyes, exhaling a cloud of passionfruit vape smoke. "gimme a second, hot stuff. someone left their mug full of caked on hot cocoa in the sink."

he'd gotten the mug clean ten minutes ago, and now it was sitting on the drying rack. truthfully, logan just wanted to watch her squirm.

"fine, sargeant. don't help. see if i care."

the pair had been at each other's throats since they'd started working for helen christodolou. the elderly greek woman ran a thriving independant bookstore, which she had started back in the eighties as a horror bookshop and pulp fiction retailer. over the years, it had morphed and changed, becoming the cosy little discount bookseller that y/n knew and loved.

logan had come later, likely because he knew someone who knew someone and really needed a job. he was a slacker, and spent mroe time vaping in the break room than he did helping. but alas, they were the only two full-time employees, and with a promotion on the horizon in the new year, she felt the need to prove that she was better than some blonde trust fund boy who was probably only employed here to keep him out of trouble.

brenda lee was playing now, and y/n was tempted to shout 'bah humbug' and turn the whole thing off. there was only so much christmas music she could take before she needed to listen to something of substance again.

after gathering the broken, dull and smeared crayola crayons off the small craft table that had been set up for children to decorate ornaments, cards and coloring pages at, she unceremoniously threw them into the clear plastic storage tote they came from, and went behind the desk to the desktop that controlled the music. she signed in to her spotify account, navigating over to her winter playlist rather than the compilation currently playing from youtube.

the calming classic rock took over the speakers, but did little to ease her irritation as she continued to clear up the table. the snow was falling harder outside, and she hoped she'd be able to hit the road and be most of the way home before it got any worse.

she heard the break room door open and close, creaking on it's old hinges as logan exited the room, his appearance announced by the lynx deodorant that seemed to follow him everywhere.

you would think that a boy with as much money as he had would make and effort to smell better.

"of course you show up now, when all the work is mostly done."

logan rolled his eyes, grabbing some forgotten books from the shelving cart and putting himself to work at refiling them. "it's not a big deal, y/n. everybody knows helen is giving you the job. its like i'm not even here."

"maybe if you did something other than suck on your fucking flavoured air all day and contributed to the day to day operations of this place, you'd have a shot at that job as well." she scowled up at him, closing cheap coloring books and stacking them on top of the storage tote.

"hey, i suck other things too! things that would make you feel fucking euphoric, if you catch my drift." logan winked from behind a chest-height bookcase housing sci-fi releases.

"i don't want to hear how good you are at giving head, logan. its been a long fucking day, and i just want to go home. so if you could please help me out here, it would be much appreciated."

all the fight was out of her voice now, and logan felt bad. this was no longer the banter that he looked forward to every morning, and the smile he enjoyed seeing was no longer mapped out on her face. instead she looked weathered and sleepy, like a day of working retail and listening to christmas carols had sucked all of the energy out of her.

logan stayed quiet, but y/n noticed the marked effort he made at helping her get the store in closing order, especially when it came to shutting down the point of sale system (which unfortunately cut out the music right in the middle of an inxs song that logan didn't want to admit he was enjoying).

"i'm sorry for being so hard on you." y/n sighed, pulling on her scarf. her tote bag was half packed, resting on the counter behind her. "i'm always in a sour mood once it starts getting darker earlier. something about the end of the year coming up this quickly is making me rethink every choice i've ever made." she tried to smile at logan, let him know she was fine, but her smile didn't quite meet her eyes.

after all, she would just be going home to an empty apartment, with a small and sad looking christmas tree that she bought at a charity store sitting on her side table.

"don't worry about it. i was being a dick for no reason. you didn't deserve it." logan said gently, patting her on the shoulder. "go home and get some rest, i can lock up here."

"thank you." she fished in her bag for the keys to her kia, excitedly walking towards the door. at this rate, she'd be home with enough time to make a small pot of pasta and watch a few episodes of santa clarita diet before she went to bed and slept through her alarm this morning.

except for the fact that she could hear the wind rattling the windowpanes. she couldn't even see out of the side door to where the employee parking lot was, her kia rio a dark cloud behind the wall of snow. she paused, hand on the doorknob as she looked outside. the wind rustled up a forgotten newspaper on the sidewalk, plastering it against the window in the door.

"i just got a message from kyle," logan shouted from behind her. "they've sent out a weather alert, and people have been advised not to leave their homes. i hate to break it to you, but you're better off staying here with me tonight."

"fuck." she cursed, throwing her tote bag at a display of christmas romance books, each looking like it stepped out of the hallmark studio head offices.

from his place behind the counter, logan winced. "i'm really sorry. but i don't think you should be driving right now."

"no, you're probably right about that." she said it calmly, but the more she sat there, the more she seethed with rage. "you know what, if you had gotten off your ass and actually helped me sooner, i could have been home right now!"

"don't get mad at me, please. i had a fight with my dad this morning and i really don't have the energy to fight with another person i love today."

she paused, some of the tightness leaving her chest. another person logan loved? did he really mean her? "i'm sorry." she said softly. "i didn't know."

"he was mad at me because i took my name out of contention for the promotion." logan announced, coming to sit in the doorway with her. his back was against the wall across from her, their feet almost touching.

"why did you do that?"

"because i don't deserve it." logan shrugged, broad shiulders shifting under his cable knit sweater. "i'm just here to prove to my parents that i'm responsible, and i can't even really do that right. you deserve that promotion more than i do. i talked to helen this morning. its yours as long as you still want it."

she smiled at him, nudging his foot with her own. "so there is a heart under there."

"its always been here, y/n. just for you. but you've ignored it, or you've mistaken it for arrogance." he sighed, messing with his collar. "but i guess i deserved it."

she laughed, head tilted back. logan loved that sound, and he swore that he would do anything to hear that sound again. "yeah, you did. but you're really pretty, and it wasn't bothering me half as much as i let on. a little bit of rivals to lovers never hurt anybody, right?"

"we could have been lovers a lot sooner if i'd been honest with you sooner. i really like you, y/n. i think you're fantastic. i love seeing your face light up when you're running activities with the kids, or watching the cute little faces you make when you're reading on break. and don't get me started on your reading glasses," logan gushed, a blush rising on his neck. "which i have had some very impure thoughts about-"

"logan? stop talking."

she leaned across the tile floor, pressing her lips against his as she basically crawled into logan's lap. he pulled her closer as she deepened the kiss, biting gently on his bottom lip.

"what if i told you i fantasized about this?" logan blushed. "hooking up with a sexy librarian after hours." he bit his lip, tugging it between his teeth before i could blurt out that eventually, that librarian had morphed to have y/n's face.

"and what if i told you that i had a fantasy about being fucked by a sexy, blond, muscular librarian?"

"then i would say that we're at an impasse. we can't both be the sexy librarian."

"you don't even read. it's no contest." she giggled, kissing him again, shifting so that she was straddling his lap instead of sitting side-saddle over his cock. "but i can't do this if i'm not absolutely certain that you can see a future with me. that you're not just trying to get in my pants."

logan's face softened, one of his warm, soft hands coming up to cup her face. she looked scared, and a little vulnerable. he wasn't sure if it was the nightmarish weather outside that was doing it, or if it was the shifting of their professional relationship.

"y/n. i have loved you since the first month we started working here. i was just too chickenshit to tell you. and if you won't listen to me tell you how incredible you are, and how much you make my world go around, then please, i am begging you, let me show you."

she sucked in a deep breath, chest rising and falling underneath her tight knit sweater. logan was looking at her with a tender face, a soft expression.

one that somehow reassured her that he was all in. that he didn't think she was weird, or beneath him like so many jocks tended to think. and maybe he wasn't too far out of her league after all. it still felt almost too good to be true. boys like logan sargeant never looked at girls like her.

but with the way he was looking at her now, she deserved to treat herself. to stop playing it safe for once.

her hands found the lapels of her trench coat, gently sliding it off her shoulders. the silence was deafening as it fell to the floor. she reached for her scarf, but logan's gentle hands over hers put a stop to it. carefully wrapping the ends of the scarf around his large hands, logan used the wool to pull her closer, placing a few kisses on her jaw before moving to her lips, relishing in the way her body responded to him.

he tucked his hands under her stockinged thighs, gently rising to his feet. she buried her head in his neck, gently nipping at the skin on his neck.

"easy does it, pretty girl. we're just getting started." logan breathed with a gentle laugh, voice husky. she was clinging to him like a koala, and he used that opportunity to move one of his hands from her thigh to her ass, giving it a gentle slap. her breath caught, and from where her crotch was pressed against his, logan could feel her getting wet. testing a theory, logan smacked her ass again, grinning as her hips bucked forward and against him.

"someone likes that, huh?" he whispered in her ear, sucking on her earlobe before kissing the skin behind her ear, and placing her down on the wingback chair by the electric fireplace.

he sunk to the floor, his knees against the scratchy rug in the reading corner, tugging his tommy hilfiger shirt over his head. he tugged at her scarf, letting it fall to the floor. hestiantly, she rested her legs on his shoulders, slowly undoing the zipper on her sweater, exposing the seafoam green cups of the lace bra she was wearing.

"i didn't expect to get laid today." she blushed, averting her eyes.

logan reached up to caress her face, using her chin to guide her eyes back to him. "look at me, princess. you're beautiful. just as you are." he pressed closer, lips brushing against her stomach twice before he placed an open-mouthed kiss right above her navel. "the other day, when you were explaining how the micheal connelly literary unvierse is all connected, it turned me on so much, pretty girl. i just wanted to bend you over the checkout desk and show you just how insane you make me."

he continued to kiss up her stomach, loving the way she squirmed and arched into him.

"on a scale of one to ten, how attached are you to these tights?"

"like a four, they've already got a run in the crotch, wh-"

she didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before the sound of tearing nylon made her eyes fly open. she stared down at logan in shock. the blond between her legs looked at her with a sheepish grin as he attempted to pull her torn pantyhose off her legs. "i've always wanted to do that. i'll buy you a nicer pair."

"they'll get stuck on my boots, jackass."

"no they won't." logan insisted, reaching for the zipper on the side of her winter boot, before pulling the whole thing off and dropping it on the floor next to him. "see?" he grinned, kissing her ankle. "not an issue."

the blond kissed up her leg, slowly stripping off what remained of her tights as he went. his lips were warm against her cool flesh, and as his head dipped under her skirt, he could feel the warmth radiating from her warm, hot center.

he gently nuzzled his nose against the wet spot forming on her cotton panties, relishing in the sweet, gentle moan she let out.

"logan." she breathed.

"i know, darlin'. i know."

he slipped one finger under the seat of her panties, pushing them aside before his tongue darted out to get a taste. he audibly groaned as he got that first taste of her slick, cock standing to attention. he dove back in, kitten licking at her slit as he pushed her legs wider.

"oh my god, logan." she whined, hips rutting against his face, coating the bottom half of his features in arousal.

his nose nudged against her clit, sending her nerve endings into overdrive. she writhed against the chair, both hands above her to grip the backrest. logan's tongue darted inside of her opening, and he flicked up and down a few times before quickly withdrawing.

"you taste so fucking good, pretty girl. i could come right here, right now, without even touching myself. just from eating you out."

she looked down at logan, who's eyes were closed in bliss as he continued to grip her thighs, head buried between them. he was so close, yet still felt too far away.

because what was the point of it all if not to find a way to be as close as physically possible to another person?

not really sure what she was thinking, she hooked the middle of her scarf around the back of logan's head, and still gripping either end, she used it to pull his head closer against her sweet pussy, moaning heartily as his tongue dove into her center again.

"jesus christ! yes, right there, yes!" she arched her back off the chair, feeling her hard nipples press against the lace of her bra. sweat was forming on her skin, and her chest was heaving.

"that's it, sweet girl." logan's voice was muffled. "keep making those pretty little noises for me, love."

her knuckles were starting to ache from how tightly she was clutching the scarf, the muscles in her arms sizing from the effort of continuously pulling him closer with the woolen fabric.

he raised his head, meeting her eyes and winking at her before ducking under her plaid skirt again to suck at her puffy clit. he slipped his pointer finger inside her opening, finger-fucking her as he pleasured her bundle of nerves. she was falling apart above him, crying out his name as tears of pleasure pricked the corners of her eyes.

"logan, i think i'm gonna-"

"do it, baby. make a mess for me, love."

she came with a cry, a few stray tears creating a bit of moisture around her eyes, slick spilling out over logan's fingers, hand and wrist. her own hands went slack, the scarf falling out of her grip as she fell back against the chair. she could still feel logan's lips on her, leaving gentle kisses along her thigh, his fingers running up and down her calves to help bring her down to earth.

"logan?" she hummed, looking down at him while she carded her fingers through his silken hair.

"yes, my love?"

"i want you to fuck me now."

logan slowly got to his feet, discarding the scarf and scooping her out of the chair in bridal style. he kissed her again, softer this time, and she could taste herself on his tongue. it was a sweet taste, something that had her moaning so sweetly into her lover's mouth.

he sat her down on the edge of one of the display tables, and she watched as he shoved an entire table's worth of christmas romances to the tiled floor. giggling at logan's enthusiasm, she stripped out of her sweater before reaching for the half-zip on his. getting the hint, logan took of his cable knit, revealing a sculpted chest that was still half hidden behind a white wife-beater tank top that was tucked into his jeans, his cock straining against his crotch.

she pulled him into her arms, hooking her legs and arms around him as he began to softly kiss and nibble at her neck. she hummed in contentment, resting her head against his shoulder. she couldn't deny the throbbing between her legs. she was raring to go again, but wanted to enjoy the quiet intimacy before she allowed him to bend her over the table and make her see stars.

his lips were soft against her skin, his hands large and comforting.

"you ready, baby? we don't have to do more if you don't want to." his voice was gravelly and soft, his breath heavy against the shell of her ear. he pulled back, searching her eyes for any signs of hesitation.

"i'm ready, logan. you don't need to worry about me."

she slipped off the edge of the table, gently turning around. she sighed into logan's arms, his warm hands ghosting over her stomach, his lips along her shoulders.

and then she slowly bent over the table, hoping she appeared seductive as she curved her spine, brushing her clothed core against logan's bulge, her plaid skirt riding up enough that he would be able to peek at her panties.

all that could be heard was the roar of the wind outside and the reverence in logan's voice as he ran his fingers along her naked back, deftly unclipping her bra. her trailed open-mouthed kisses down her back, and she felt her heart swell with love and threaten to burst out of her chest at how gently he was handling her.

"you're so fucking beautiful. now that i've gotten a taste, darling, i'm very reluctant to let another man do the same, even though i know i have no say in the matter."

he gently slipped her panties down her legs, watching them pool around her feet on the floor. his large hands undid the top button and zipper on his jeans, and she couldn't resist a look behind her to watch his dick spring to attention.

"jesus, mary mother of god." she mumbled under her breath, only vaguely conscious of what her aunt would refer to as sacrilege.

logan beamed down at her. "like what you see, pretty girl?"

"of course i do. now put it in me, please."

chuckling, logan pushed her skirt up with one hand, guiding her body back towards the table with the other. "your wish is my command."

logan slipped inside slowly, inch by aching inch as her opening widened to welcome him home. he bit his lip, head thrown back and eyes sewn shut in pleasure. she felt like heaven around him, and he had to count to ten to make sure he didn't come prematurely.

"you good, baby?"

"perfect." she purred underneath him, bucking her hips back. "take me, librarian."

"technically not a librarian. just a humble bookseller." he laughed, drawing out and thrusting his cock back in again. "but its not like that matters when i'm making you feel this good, does it?"

he loved watching the way she moved as he hammered his rock-hard cock inside of her sweet hole. the way her spine rippled under her skin, beautiful and strong. hearing the way she breathed and gasped and whined his name, small hand reaching to grasp his behind her back, fingers interlaced as he pounded her against the table.

"you feel so fucking good, baby. you're taking my fucking cock so well." he praised, vaguely aware of the table legs creaking as it jutted forward with each thrust. "so good for me."

"fuck, logan. i feel so full." she attempted a weak laugh, too overcome with how he was making her feel. "so good." the hand that wasn't squeezing the life out of logan's lurched forward to find purchase on the underside of the table as a particularly hard thrust pitched her forward. "jesus, right there! yes, yes!"

"that's it, baby. don't be afraid to tell me exactly what you want. let me make every dirty thought in your mind come true. anything you've ever read in one of those smutty little books of yours, just tell me, i'm your guy. i'll fuck you on the rolling ladder, eat your pretty fucking pussy between stacks of books. anything you want me to."

"logan, i'm coming-"

"that's it, baby. you can do it. give me another one. good girl, that's it." logan stuttered, feeling his own release draw closer, triggered by the feeling of her come all over his bare cock. "christ!" he blurted, pulling out as quick as he could, watching his release spill all over her plush ass, even seeping below the hem of her skirt. "motherfucker." he furiously pumped his cock, trying to squeeze out the last few stubborn drops before slumping against her body, reconnecting his hand with hers.

"i'll clean that up." he mumbled. "sorry about the mess."

"don't worry about it. i have a good shower at home." she giggled lazily, spent and content. she felt the table rock beneath her, and turned to face logan. "log-"

she didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before she felt the table give out underneath her. she spat out a curse as she hit the ground, feeling all of the wind get knocked form her lungs (along with her bra off her chest).

"shit, are you okay?" logan laughed, trying to do up his jeans as he sat up. "give me your hand, let me help."

"can i put my bra on first?"

"i mean, i wouldn't mind if you didn't, but it is kinda cold in here. let me grab your sweater."

getting to her feet and on slightly shaky legs, she managed to laugh at him. "what a gentleman."

logan shrugged, draping the sweater over her bare shoulders. "it's the least i can do after i tore your nylons to shreds and came on your ass. you really should let me clean that up. i don't want to stain your skirt."

she cut him off with a soft kiss, her underwear stuck somewhere underneath the fallen table. "logan, stop talking. what are we going to do about the table?"

"run away and blame the weather?"

#the christmas collection 2024 #logan sargeant x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smut #logan sargeant smut #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one smut

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lazysoulwriter · 3 months ago

Text

The Game - Drew Starkey.

850 words kinda smut

It was a quiet night, the kind where you and Drew found yourselves sprawled on the couch, the soft glow of the TV flickering in the background. The two of you had been together for months, knowing each other better than you knew yourselves. And tonight, you decided to play a game. A simple game—well, simple in theory.

“A game of trust,” Drew had called it, his smirk almost too innocent as he set the rules: ask each other questions. If one of you got it wrong, you had to take something off.

At first, it seemed harmless enough. You’d both played silly games before, but there was something about the way his eyes lingered on you that made the room feel different. Charged. Dangerous, even.

“So,” Drew began, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze intense. “First question. What’s my full name?”

You grinned, leaning back on the couch with a thoughtful look. “Easy,” you said, your voice playful. “Drew Starkey.” You laugh.

His eyebrows shot up. “Don't be like this.” He laughs "Wrong."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Well, then I guess I’ve got to take something off,” you teased, standing up and slowly pulling your top over your head. You felt his gaze on you, his eyes darkening, but he didn’t say a word.

“Your turn,” you challenged, tossing your top onto the chair nearby.

He grinned, leaning back on the couch, looking at you with a glint of mischief. “Alright, alright. What’s my favorite movie?”

You narrowed your eyes, biting your lip. He’d mentioned it before, but you couldn’t quite remember. “I don’t know… The Godfather?”

His lips twitched. “Wrong again. It’s Pulp Fiction.”

A low laugh escaped your lips, and you shrugged. “I guess that means I have to take something else off, right?”

“Please,” he murmured, watching intently. “I’m not complaining.”

You slowly unbuttoned your jeans, taking your time, feeling the heat of his stare. The tension between you two was palpable now, and you both knew it wasn’t about the game anymore. It was about the undeniable pull that kept growing with each passing second.

“Alright, alright,” he said, clearly struggling to keep his cool. “Next question. What’s my least favorite food?”

You thought about it for a moment, running your fingers through your hair. “I’m going to guess… broccoli?”

Drew’s face lit up with a satisfied grin. “You got it. Broccoli’s disgusting.”

You playfully groaned, crossing your arms. “Finally, a right answer. Well, lucky for you, I don’t need to take anything else off.”

He chuckled, his eyes sweeping over you, still sitting with an air of quiet confidence. But as the game wore on, it became clear who was winning—and it wasn’t him.

It was your turn again, and you were feeling a bit too smug. Drew had been steadily losing this game, each question pulling him closer to… well, losing more than just a piece of clothing.

“You ready?” you asked, smirking. “What’s my favorite thing to do on a lazy Sunday?”

His eyes searched yours, and for a split second, you saw the calculation in his gaze. He knew you better than anyone else. But the question stumped him.

“Uh, nap?” he guessed, his voice uncertain.

“Nope,” you said with a slow shake of your head. “It’s binge-watching Netflix and eating pizza.”

“Damn it,” he muttered, sitting up straight and pulling off his shirt with exaggerated slowness. His muscles flexed as the fabric slid off his body, and the air between you two became thick with unspoken tension.

You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, admiring the way his body seemed to glow in the dim light of the room.

“Alright,” Drew said, trying to regain his composure. “Your turn.”

By now, the game had lost all pretense of innocence. There was no question you weren’t both aware of the heat building between you, and every piece of clothing lost seemed to make it worse.

As you looked at Drew, a mischievous smile tugged at your lips. “Okay,” you said, leaning forward. “Final question. What’s the one thing that drives me crazy when you do it?”

Drew’s lips curled into a sly grin. “I know this one. It’s when I… tease you. You can’t stand it when I do that.”

You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head. “Wrong. It’s when you… make me wait.”

His grin faltered for a second, and his eyes darkened with understanding. “So, I lose?” he asked softly.

You nodded, enjoying the way the tension seemed to vibrate in the air between you two. “You do.”

Before he could even process the words, you stood up, slowly walking toward him. You placed your hand on his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips.

“Now,” you said, voice low and teasing, “let’s see what happens next.”

He leaned forward, his lips grazing the side of your neck as his hands settled at your hips. “I think I’m going to enjoy this,” he murmured.

The game was over, but the night had just begun.

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron fanfics #drew starkey x you #drew starkey smut #outer banks imagines

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knight-of-flowerss · 6 months ago

Text

BIRTHDAY PRESENT

MODERN!BOXER!BENJICOT 'DAVOS' BLACKWOOD x READER

Masterlist

Smut! MDNI! 18+!

Synopsis: Daughter of a famous boxer, a spoiled little princess, but also one who cares for her family. When your brother gets beaten to a pulp by an underground beast of a boxer, your father takes him under his wing. Now you have to deal with him.

Note: am I supposed to be writing three other fics atm? Yes. Yes I am. Did I write this in the spur of the moment cause it sounded like an amazing fic? Yes. Yes I did.😋 also I used Y/N twice (js a warning lol)

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @hardkiddonut

Your bother was a boxer. A shit one but still a boxer. Your dad is one too, a legendary one. The great Duke Miller. Your brother, Scotty Miller, is due to be his 'prodigy', he's hoping.

Duke has high standards for Scotty, he wishes for him to be like how he was. But he's a screw up, he hates boxing and he'd rather play football rather than train.

Duke started him off in underground fights, trying to toughen him up. It'd been a few months and he'd gotten a bit better so Duke decided to put him in a match with one of the best fighters in that shitty, underground boxing world.

Benjicot 'Bloody Ben' Blackwood.

He's dangerous, always beating his opponents basically to a pulp. As soon as he stepped into that ring, he was an animal.

And that's what happened, he beat Scotty to a pulp, nearly killing him. You were furious, watching your brother get repeatedly punched as he lay their helplessly, brutality always did make the crowd go wild.

Scotty is taken away on a stretcher, to the hospital. Rage blinds you as you storm over to Benjicot's changing room, opening and slamming the door.

He's half dressed and you're seething with anger. Are you seriously going to stand up to this very violent boxer? Yes, yes you are apparently.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?! You nearly killed my fucking brother!" You shout at him. Ben turns around, only just now noticing you're here.

His eyes rake up and down your body, taking in the heels, short dress and perfectly manicured nails. His lips curl up into a smirk as he leans against the lockers, his arms crossing across his bare chest. "He was too weak. He deserved it."

Was your brother weak? Yes, yes he was. Are you going to let this man know that you agree with him? No. No the fuck you aren't. "Too weak?! So since he's too weak, you just thought you'd kill him?! Is that it?!"

He shrugs and his smirk widens. He pushes off the lockers and stands straight. "His own fucking fault. He shouldn't have signed up to fight me. You must be his little sister then?"

"Yeah! I am! And it wasn't him who signed up for the match! It was our dad! Just 'cause you think you're some big man doesn't mean you have to nearly kill him!" You screech, the sound echoing off the walls.

He approaches you slowly, stopping just in front of you, towering over you. He takes you in once more, his gaze raking over you. Taking you all in, a shiver going down his spine.

"Your daddy should know better than to throw your older brother to me. What's your name then?" You glare up at him as he smirks down at you. "My name's y/n, but I don't care about that. You're gonna pay for his hospital bills."

He hums, "y/n huh? Cute, like you." His smirk morphs into a teasing grin, "and pay his hospital bills? How are you going to make me do that, Darlin'?"

"You're gonna pay it with the money you won." He laughs at that, gripping your chin and tilting your head up. "Is that so? You think you can just waltz in here and demand money from me, huh? And what if I don't wanna give you a single penny, Darlin'? What then?"

You smack his hand away, "it doesn't matter if you don't want to! You nearly fucking killed him! It's the bare minimum!"

He laughs again, reaching out and tugging you towards him, his big, calloused hands gripping your hips. "How do I know you care about your older brother? How do I know you aren't just trying to swindle me out of my hard-earned cash?" He grins, a shit-eating grin.

You push him away, your manicured nails slightly digging into his bare chest, "Because I was the one who told him not to fight! I love my brother and you are the fucker who nearly killed him! You're gonna pay for it!"

He lets out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes at you. He leans forward, his arms coming up to box you in on a nearby locker. "And how are you going to stop me from walking away, huh? Sweet little thing like you. Who's gonna make me pay, huh?"

"I'm gonna make you pay. Or they are." You nod your head at the two men at the door, your body guards. They follow you practically everywhere since your dad is a legendary boxer back in his day and his brother being his 'prodigy son', that's what the press calls him, bar him being a shite boxer.

He follows your gaze over to the two bodyguards, eyeing them both up for a few seconds before a loud, barking laugh leaves his lips. His attention drifts back to you. "Yeah? You think those big guys are going to make me pay up, eh? Just because your daddy used to be this big, famous boxer doesn't mean your bodyguard’s intimidate me darlin'."

"Oh, so you think you can beat them black and blue like you did Scotty?" He laughs again, a barking sound that seems to echo. He grins down at you, his voice now taking on a lower, more serious tone.

"You think I’d let those two goons over there even touch me? I'd knock them both out with a single punch, then what're you gonna do darlin'?" His tongue darts out to lick at his lips before grinning.

"You won't knock them out." You spit out. He smirks, leaning in closer so your faces are mere inches apart. “You doubting my boxing skills? I'm offended, darlin'. You just saw what I can do. I'd beat those big guys into the ground, without even breaking a sweat."

You cross your arms over your chest, "Go on then."

He laughs again, a loud and arrogant sound, he pushes away from the wall, "You sure you want me to kick your goons arses? Won't you be embarrassed about my beating them so badly?" You give him a dirty look, looking him up and down, "Like you could."

He grins as he stops in front of your big bodyguards. He looks up at the two big men, an arrogant smirk plastered on his face as he gives them a cocky wave. "Hey there boys, fancy a little sparring session? Just a fun little warmup before I fight again tomorrow."

The bodyguards exchange a look before the first one cracks his knuckles, his eyes never leaving Ben. "Sure pal, why not?"

You stay a little behind, watching everything happen. One of the bodyguards swings a punch at Ben's face, but he ducks to the side at the last moment and it misses, he laughs as he straightens up and shakes his head. "Is that the best you've got? Seriously?"

The bodyguards both charge forward at the same time now, fists flying. But he's too quick, he dodges every punch, his movements smooth and agile. He laughs again and smirks at them. "You call yourselves bodyguards? You're about as strong as a wet noodle."

The bodyguards are getting frustrated now, one of them tries a kick aimed at his stomach, but he grabs the man's leg and swings him around, sending him flying into the other bodyguard and knocking them both to the ground. He stands over them, still laughing, his hands on his hips as he looks to you. "You still doubting me, darlin'?"

You glare at him, "You said you could knock them out, you haven't knocked them out yet." He laughs again as he looks down at the two men who are now both getting to their feet. He's having the time of his life. "I'm getting there sweetheart, I'm getting there. Just didn't want it to be too quick and easy."

The bodyguards charge at him again, but he's still too quick, he ducks and weaves through their punches, countering with jabs of his own. He's like lightning, moving around the room with dizzying speed.

The bodyguards are getting tired now, their movements slowing down as they wear themselves out. But he's nowhere near tired at all, he's enjoying himself too much. "Come on guys, is that all you got? This is embarrassing, honestly."

The bodyguards exchange a look, they're both exhausted now, their faces red, their breathing ragged. They're done for. But it doesn't even look like Benji has broken a sweat.

He grins as he steps over to them, towering over the two big men, his hands on his hips as he looks down at them. "Have you boys had enough yet?"

They both nod, still trying to catch their breaths. There is no way they could keep up with him. He laughs again, that same loud, barking sound, and turns to look back at you. "There, I told you I'd knock their asses to the ground. You doubt me again princess?"

"Are both of you fucking serious?! You're both fucking pathetic!-" You hear someone clearing their throat at the door, you turn to look at them. "Daddy..", Your father was at the door. A former legendary boxer, still big and hench, in his fifties, bordering sixties. He's still got his muscles and the brooding glare.

Benji's smirk slips a little, his eyes going wide at the sight of your father, the famous, legendary boxer, Duke Miller. This was not the man he wanted to meet right now. Well, he would love to meet him, but right now when he's knocking his daughter's bodyguard's on their arses? Nope. He slowly steps back and stands up straight, he's still taller than your dad, but that didn't matter, everyone knew that this man was not to be trifled with.

Your dad doesn't speak, merely looks him up and down and grumbles. "You're that Bloody Ben bloke arnt you, huh?" Benjicot swallows, his hands shifting from his hips to stuffing themselves into the pockets of his trousers. "Yes sir. That's me."

Your dad walks further into the room, taking in the sight of his two bodyguards sitting on the floor, before his steely gaze drifts back onto Ben, he looks him up and down for a few moments before grumbling again. "What're you doing talking to my daughter?"

Ben glances quickly at you before looking back at your father, trying to keep his cool, though he can feel himself starting to sweat under the pressure of being eyeballed by your dad. He shrugs his shoulders and responds with a slight stutter. "She uh, she came to see me, sir… after the fight."

Your dad narrows his eyes, the intense glare not faltering for a second as he steps further into the room, moving closer to Ben, his expression stern and intimidating. "Why'd she come to see you huh? You beat her brother good. What she want from you?"

Ben swallows again, his hands gripping a little tighter in his pockets, though his lips still quirk upwards into a cheeky half-smirk. He looks past your dad and meets your gaze for just a moment, before his eyes flicks back to your dad again. "She came to demand I pay hospital bills, sir."

Your dad scoffs a little at that, his eyes flickering over to you, before he fixes Ben with his hard stare again. "Hospital bills huh? Yeah she's a good kid, always making sure that brother of hers is okay. Always looking out for people." He steps closer still, his face so close to Ben that he's practically breathing down his neck, his voice dangerously low. "I take it you told her you ain’t paying?"

Ben swallows again, his gaze shifting to the floor, the smirk slipping from his face as he suddenly feels much smaller and insecure under your dad's gaze and proximity. He nods faintly once, not trusting himself to speak without stuttering right now.

Your dad chuckles slightly at that, a low and gruff sound, as he steps back and crosses his arms over his chest, still looking at Ben. "Is that right? You’re saying no to us, huh?” He raises an eyebrow as he waits for a response, the look on his face making it very clear he's not to be trifled with or defied.

Ben slowly raises his gaze, meeting your dad's eyes now, his bravado starting to return as he straightens up slightly and speaks up. "Yeah, I am. Why should I pay hospital bills for some guy who I beat up in a fight when it's literally our jobs."

Your dad keeps his brooding face on before bursting out in a boisterous chuckle, "Fair enough lad." You look at your dad with a shocked face, you can't believe he's not shouting at him by now.

Your dad chuckles again and shakes his head as he moves over to the two bodyguards, still sitting on the floor, and reaches down to pull the first one to his feet, who wobbles slightly but ultimately stands up on steady legs. He pats him on the shoulder before he nods to the second one, who stands up but still looks a little shaky. "You two go stand out in the hallway. Make sure we're undisturbed." They both nod and leave the room, glancing warily and warily at Ben as they do.

Ben watches them go, his eyes following the two bodyguards, before slowly drifting back to your dad, who is now standing in front of him again, his arms crossed over his giant chest and his feet planted firmly on the floor, like an intimidating sentinel.

Your dad glares at him for a few moments, his expression stern, before he slowly starts to speak again, his voice low and firm. "Let me tell you something, kid. You got a reputation for being tough, for winning fights and being a damn good boxer. But I'm not afraid of you. Don't think for a second that I wouldn't lay you out flat if I had to. Understand?"

Ben swallows again, his bravado shrinking down under your dad's harsh words and terrifying presence. His shoulders slumped slightly and he mutters. "Yes sir, I understand."

Your Dad nods, seemingly satisfied in knowing that he's got Ben feeling small and scared. He steps back, putting a little distance between them before speaking again, his voice a little less intimidating now, but no less firm and authoritative. "Good. Now, I'm going to talk with my daughter. Alone. You sit down. And you don't move a muscle till one of us tells you to, you hear?"

Ben nods again and mutters another 'yes sir' before he quickly turns and heads over to a chair in the corner of the room, sitting down on it quickly, like an obedient schoolboy.

Your dad makes a satisfied grunt as he watches Ben sit down, his gaze lingering on him for a few more moments, before he looks at you, jerking his head towards the door. "Pumpkin, come with me. We need to talk."

You nod and follow him out of the room, glancing back towards Ben one more time, he glances up and meets your eyes but looks away quickly, staring down at his hands awkwardly instead, looking like a scolded child sitting in the corner.

Once you're both out in the hallway, your dad speaks again. "What're you doing talking to that kid, Pumpkin?" You look up at your father, "He has to play Scottys bills daddy. Just because you think he's a good boxer and you wanna 'take him under your wing' doesn't mean he gets to beat up your son."

Your dad scoffs and mutters something under his breath as he shakes his head, still looking a mixture of annoyed at your insistence. "You're too soft, Pumpkin. Kid has skills, he's got potential. I think I can train him, mentor him, groom him. He could be something special."

"But.. but he hurt Scotty, daddy!" You plead with your father. Your dad sighs and looks at you, his gaze softening a little as he takes in your concern for your brother, though his tone remains firm. "It's just a couple of broken bones sweetheart. Scotty'll be fine. Kids get hurt in boxing. It's part of the game. You gotta toughen up a little, stop being so soft."

I pout. Am I a spoiled princess? Yes, yes I am. Do I get worried about my brother and my dad revolving around fights? Yes, yes I do. That's why I'm so adamant that this fucker pays.

Your dad chuckles slightly when he sees your pout, his expression softening even more. He has a soft spot for you, always has. "You're just like your momma. Always getting worked up at the slightest bit of injuries. She was soft just like you."

I nibble at my bottom lip slightly, "I miss momma. She would agree with me. It's not smart to take that.. savage… under your wing daddy."

Your dad sighs at that, his smile slipping as he's reminded of the past. He shakes his head slightly before he speaks, "Your momma would most likely not approve, you're right. But she's not here anymore. I'm the one looking out for you two now. And I say that kid has potential. I think it'd be a waste to let him carry on fighting in those crappy little underground clubs. I could help him become great, get him into professional fights."

You roll your eyes, done with this stupid conversation, "whatever, I'm gonna go visit Scotty." Your dad nods and pats you on the shoulder. "You do that sweet'eart. I'm gonna stay here and have a chat with that kid for a while. But you go see your brother, I'm sure he'd love a visit from you."

I walk away, going to the hired car for you to go to the hospital, leaving your dad.

Your dad watches you go, his expression soft for a moment before he turns back to the room, pausing outside the door to take a deep breath before he goes in.

Benji is still sitting in the chair, looking up when the door opens. He can see the intensity in your dad's eyes and suddenly feels a wave of nervousness again as your dad approaches him.

Your dad stands over him for a few seconds, not saying anything, just looking down at him. Ben tries to smile to cover up for his nervousness but it comes across as an awkward grimace on his face instead.

Your dad just grunts and motions to the chair next to Ben. "Move owa." Ben quickly scrambles to move a little further down the chair, and your dad sits down next to him, his legs spread out wide and his bulk taking up more than half the chair.

Your dad turns to look at him, his gaze hard and unwavering, it makes Ben shrink a little in the chair. "So, kid, I hear you beat my boy Scotty good huh?"

Ben swallows and nods faintly, his fingers gripping the arms of the chair slightly as he tries not to show how intimidated he feels right now by your dad.

Your dad lets out a gruff chuckle and shakes his head slightly. "You're a crazy bastard, I'll give you that. He's my kid and I love him, but Scotty never was the brightest or the toughest. I'm not surprised you managed to lay him flat like that."

Ben chuckles a little, relaxing slightly and feeling a little more confident. He likes how your dad is treating him casually, instead of like a kid, the way you had, even though he's older than you. "He was sloppy. Put up a pretty pathetic attempt of a fight. It was hard to even take it seriously, if I'm honest."

Your dad lets out another laugh at that, this one a little louder. "Yeah, Scotty's never been the best at fighting. He's always been a bit of a mummy's boy that one. Never been one for roughhousing. Was always more interested in playing sports than fighting."

Ben nods in agreement and relaxes further into the chair, starting to enjoy the conversation with your dad now, instead of feeling like he's being interrogated. He's smiling now, the same cocky smile he usually has. "Yeah, he spent more time on his football kick than on punch training, I could tell from his form as soon as the fight started."

Your dad chuckles again and nods. "Yeah yeah, that sounds like Scotty alright. Always a mamma's boy, that one. I've tried my damndest to get him to toughen up, to actually learn how to fight instead of relying on being quick or agile. But every time I tried to get him to come to the gym with me, all he wanted to do was kick a bloody ball."

Ben laughs at that, shaking his head at the thought of Scotty being anything but a fighter. "He's damn lucky he never came up against a proper fighter then or he'd be hurt a lot more than a couple of broken bones."

Your dad laughs loudly at that and shakes his head, seemingly amused by the thought of Scotty getting hurt worse than a few broken bones. "You are a real fighter son, a true one. But you're stuck in these shit-tip underground fights."

Your dad grins at that and claps a hand down on Ben's shoulder. "That's what I'm hoping to change. You got real skill kid, you've got natural talent. But you could be one of the greats if you let me train you. Help you reach your full potential."

Ben grins back at your dad, his eyes lighting up with excitement now. It was one thing to have your daughter come demanding him to give money. But having the famed former legend himself want to take him on as a mentee? That was an opportunity he was not about to refuse, even if it did mean he was stuck having to deal with your pestering.

Your dad grins as he sees the excitement and interest in Benjicot's gaze, and squeezes his shoulder. "So, what do you say kid? Will you join my private training regimen and let me help you reach the greatness I know you can achieve?"

Ben nods, not hesitating for a second at the offer. "Hell yeah I'll do it. Train with a legend? Who'd say No to that?"

Your dad grins even wider at that, laughing as he gives Ben a firm pat on the back. "That's the spirit kid. No time to spare. We start your regular training next week. Twice a week. I trust you'll be at the gym every time, no excuses. Understand?"

Ben nods again, feeling the firm slap on his back and trying not to wince as it hits his sore muscles. "I understand, sir, yeah. I'll make sure I show up. Every single session."

Your dad grins and leans back in the chair as he hears that, his hand still on Ben's shoulder. "Ah that's good news. I was hoping you'd say that. You'll stay at me mansion. Have a proper place to rest and eat before and after our training sessions. There's a gym there so that we're not driving back and forth to the boxing gyms too. You'll love it, kid."

Ben's eyes widen at that. A mansion?! That's some real top class treatment. He's never had anything close to that growing up, so he's shocked to say the least at the offer. Plus, living at a boxing legends mansion? And one as rich as your dad is? This was sounding better and better by the minute.

Your dad pats him on the shoulder again. "You'll have your own room, don't worry. Private room just for your use. Got plenty of space at the mansion, more than enough room for you to have your own space separate from our family."

Ben's mind is still boggling at the thought of having a room in your dads mansion. It's an insane deal from his point of view. Free training from one of the boxing greats and a place to live? It sounded like a dream come true. He smiles and nods again, still a little speechless.

Your dad smiles as he sees the look of disbelief on Ben's face, and can't help but laugh at his surprise. "I take it you're shocked by that, yeah? Surprised I'm giving you such special treatment and a place to live?"

Benji nods, his lips curving up into a smile despite himself. "Hell yeah, I'm surprised. I was expecting a few training sessions, but now you're telling me I'm living with you at your mansion. You don't have to do all that for me, you know. I don't deserve it."

Your dad laughs and shakes his head, waving away Benji's words. "Nonsense, kid. You've got talent. Serious talent. I'm damn near certain I can turn you into a world class fighter. It'd be a waste not to give you the best training and support to reach your full potential. I'm going to make you a damn legend."

Ben's smile somehow gets even wider at the praise and support. It feels damn good to be treated as something other than just a dumb boxer and instead, someone with actual potential. "Yeah, damn right you are. I'm gonna be the best damn fighter you've ever trained. Make you proud of having taken me on like this."

Your dad smirks and pats Benji's shoulder again, giving it a firm squeeze now. "That's what I like to hear. You have the skills, kid, I've got a lot of confidence that you're goin' places. I'm not taking on just any old guy to train. You're something special. I can see it. You're gonna have the skills and the talent to become a damn champion one day if I keep working with you."

It'd been a few months since Benjicot moved in. As you can already tell, it was a shit show. Let's just say a glass got launched in the direction of Benjicot from you, snarky comments from an injured Scotty and Rom, your little brother, silently eating while he watches and does his GCSE revision.

At every opportunity, you make his life hell. Well, inconveniencing him. Moving his boxing gloves or wrap, putting his clothes in random places, changing out his protein powder for flour. Other things too, just to piss him off, a little inconvenience in his day.

You were also rude, giving him dirty glances, mean comments, rolling your eyes at every word.

After seven months of Benjicot living with them and training with your father and brother, your birthday comes up. Nineteen. You always had wild, big parties on your birthday, this is no difference.

You're going for classy. Golds, silvers, fancy glass carved cups. It was gonna be huge.

Guests pile in, champagne getting passed around to each. After all the guests arrive, they get to mingle for a while and put the presents on the large, over-piled table.

Soon enough, you make your grand entrance. Walking down the very large staircase, clad in a black dress, short skirt at the front with a long trailing back, sliding against the floors and stairs. Your hair is lightly curled and your makeup done up. You looked almost feline.

Benjicot's standing with your brothers, watching your walk down the stairs, like a model. Long legs going down each step with cute Louis Vuitton heels.

Stepping off the stairs, people come up and wish you happy birthday. You grab a glass of champagne, sipping on it as you make your way around, mingling with friends and family.

After a while, you're a bit tipsy, taking shots with your friends and dancing on the dance floor. You stumble outside, walking to a small bench in the very large back garden, grabbing a breath of fresh air.

Ben wanders into the back garden to grab some fresh air as well. He'd had a good time partying so far but he'd needed a short break. He spots you sitting on the bench and heads over to join you. He sits on the bench next to you and looks over at you. "You enjoying your birthday so far?"

You look at him as he sits down, rolling you eyes, just your luck. "Yeah. I am."

Ben just snickers softly at your reaction to him sitting next to you. You clearly weren't too happy to see him, which amused him. "Oh, come on. Don't act too thrilled to see me, I know you're really happy I'm here…"

Ben has a cocky smirk on his face as he pokes your side gently. He hadn't seen you all night, so you getting all annoyed at him for joining you on the bench was amusing. You sigh, rolling your eyes again as you put one knee ontop of the other, resting your elbows on them.

Benji's smirk grows at the sight of you rolling your eyes yet again. He'd clearly gotten under your skin already, and it was far too easy.He glances over at you and grins before he speaks up again. "Damn, you look like you're really enjoying yourself over there."

One of his eyebrows raise slightly as you reposition your legs. You were acting just as he had imagined you would, you'd clearly grown exasperated with him already, even though he'd been sitting next to you for only less than a few minutes. It was a little funny.

Benji snickers to himself. You were a hell of an easy to rile up. He could already tell he was annoying you, he was just testing your limits now. "Why the long face? We're at a birthday party… you're supposed to be having fun, birthday girl…"

"Yeah well, with the guy that battered me brother and is now me dads fucking favourite despite not being his son sitting next to me, no surprise I'm not in a good mood." You scoff.

Benjicot just smirks slightly at your response, you were clearly a little pissed off and he knew he was the cause of it. You were just so easy to rile up, all he had to do was sit next to you and you started losing your temper. He chuckles softly, tilting his head at you. "That's right… I'm the golden boy… and you're just a pain in my arse…"

He leans back against the bench and continues to smirk smugly as he glances over at you. You were glaring at him already, you must've been absolutely fuming by now, but that was exactly what he was wanting. You were very fun to wind up, he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

He couldn't help it, he was far too amused by your angered expression. He knew you were seething on the inside and he just felt like poking the bear some more. "Aw… look at your face. You're all pouty and angry… it's cute…"

You give him a disgusted look. "Just shut up. My head is banging and you’re talking too much."

Ben snickers as you give him that look. You acted so damn cute when you were annoyed, it was amusing to him. He almost couldn't resist the idea of making you even more pissed off. "Aww, is your little head hurting? Has all that dancing given you a migrane? Poor little thing…"

You glare at him. Then your mind got fuzzy, next thing you realise, your making out with him and his fingers are.. well.. inside you..

Ben's taken by surprise when you suddenly start making out with him, not that he's complaining of course… but he wasn't expecting you to kiss him out of the blue. He grins into the kiss, just going with it. He lets a finger trail along your skin before he slides his fingers between your legs.

Benjicot's enjoying this, clearly, and he's not about to stop kissing you and touching you any time soon… he knew you were a little angry before but now he had you kissing him and making out with him he just wants more.

Ben slides his tongue into your mouth, pressing himself closer to you as he starts to kiss you a little bit rougher. He's enjoying having you so close to him like this, and he can't help but want more.

You moan softly into his mouth, your legs parting more as his fingers rock inside you. Ben grins against your lips, feeling you part your legs even more for him. He loved seeing how much you wanted him, it was an ego boost. He pushes his fingers into you a bit deeper, enjoying the way you writhe for him.

Ben slides his tongue into your mouth again, trying to muffle all of those sweet sounds you make. He really was enjoying this a lot, and he wanted more… he felt his jeans start to tighten as you got a bit more handsy and started pulling his shirt up.

Benji pulls back from the kiss when he feels you start to tug at his shirt, grinning down at you. "You gonna take my shirt off, darlin'?" You moan and pant, pouting. "I.. I wanna feel you.. fuck Benji.."

Benjicot just chuckles softly, enjoying how eager you were right now. He wasn't used to you being so willing and submissive.. He grins down at you as he pulls off his shirt, revealing the lean, well-toned muscles underneath. He grins as he looks at you, just waiting to see what you would do next.

You tug him down to kiss you again, moving his hand to guide his fingers back inside you, your nails raking down his chest.

Ben grins as you pull him down to you, not even a little bit surprised that you're wanting to continue things. He moans as he starts kissing you again, and it doesn't take you long to guide his fingers back to where they had been before and he lets his fingers sink into you again. He lets out a soft groan as your hands wander down his chest.

He leans into you a bit more, enjoying the feeling of your hands running over his chest and body, and your lips on his. He's really enjoying this, and you feel so fucking good around his fingers, he's starting to strain in his jeans, and he knows he's going to need to ease the pressure and discomfort soon enough.

You grip onto his waist, your other hand in his hair as you tug on it and moan in his mouth.

Ben moans back into your mouth, loving how you're pulling his hair and gripping onto his hips, knowing how good his fingers are making you feel, how eager you are. He slides his other hand up your thigh, his hand moving higher and higher as he kisses you more roughly and you let out another quiet gasp.

His lips move from yours and start trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, messy kisses against your throat as his hand on your thigh starts to push your dress up, wanting to get touch more of your skin.

He moans against your neck, his lips and teeth sucking and biting gently as he continues to kiss down your collarbone and shoulder, his hands are now grabbing your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin as he continues leaving hot, eager kisses all over your skin.

Your thighs tremble slightly, squeezing your eyes shut, biting your lip softly. The pleasure is becoming too much.

Benjicot can feel your thighs trembling in his hands and he grins against your skin, loving how you were reacting to his mouth and hands, he could tell you were getting more worked up. His lips and teeth travel back up to your neck and he starts kissing and biting at it again, leaving more marks over your skin.

"Fuck.. Ben.. 'm close.." You whimper out, trembling and writhing.

Ben feels a shiver down his spine as you let your breathless words, he can tell how close you are and he loves it, he keeps his lips against your neck, sucking and biting gently as his hands slide higher and higher up your legs. He's enjoying it too, his breathing is heavier and he's feeling a lot of pressure against his jeans, he's going to have to find a way to get some relief sooner or later.

"Oh fuck! Benji! 'M gonna cum!" He lets out a low and slightly strangled moan as he sucks a mark into your throat, feeling you getting closer and closer to release as his hands continue to move and wander over your legs. He's growing more and more desperate to have some sort of relief, it was starting to get really uncomfortable, feeling your skin against his and hearing you call out his name over and over again.

" 'm gonna cum, 'm gonna cum, 'm gonna cum.." You mumble and babble, thighs shaking. He grins against your neck as he hears your breathless words, loving the sounds of you so close to cumming, he continues to suck and bite at your throat, his breathing heavier now and feeling more strained, he needs something soon.

Benji lets a hand wander up higher, finally letting his hand grip and squeeze your thigh, wanting to touch more of your skin and hold you even closer to him. He moans against your neck as he feels himself get even more pent up and frustrated in his jeans, and he's starting to get desperate for some kind of relief and friction.

You grip his arm, acrylic nails digging into his skin, your mouth drops open into an 'O' as your thighs tremble and you cum, the waves of pleasure crashing down.

He moans into your neck, feeling you come against his fingers and he can't help but let out a slightly shaky breath as you grip onto his arm and make all those sweet sounds.

His hips twitch forward, and he lets out another shaky moan as he feels himself get even more pent up, he's struggling to keep it together.

He pulls back from your neck and letting his forehead rest against yours, his breathing still a little laboured and his jeans feeling really damn tight.

"Mmm… Benji.." You moan breathlessly. He can't help but let a shiver run down his spine as you say his name again, all breathless and weak, he's really struggling to keep himself from just shoving you back against the bench and taking what he so badly wants.

He lets out a low moan as he looks down at you, his heart racing and his head spinning a little, he needs some kind of relief, and he's struggling to keep himself together as he looks down at you, all messed up and flushed and panting a little.

Now that was one hell of a birthday present.

174 notes · View notes

yua0ra · 19 hours ago

Text

𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲

WARNINGS: theatrelover!theo x cinemalover!fem!reader, sex, porn with plot, semi-public sex, p in v, raw, cursing, hot, fingering, NSFW, english is not my first language. not proofread | minors please dni. smut 🂡

SUMMARY: In the cool of the evening, when everything is getting kind of groovy, you call me up and ask me: would I like to go with you and see a movie? First I say "No, Ive got some plans for tonight." But then I stop and say "All right".

WC: 6.3K AN: HAHAHAH finally, after what it seemed like a fucking eternity, I bring you... Theodore SMUT. Everyone say thank you! JK, enjoy it, you whore. <3

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

Theodore Nott had an insufferable, borderline pretentious love for contemporary theatre. He would wax poetic about the brilliance of Jez Butterworth, the raw grit of Simon Stephens, and the immersive absurdity of Caryl Churchill. You, on the other hand, were a cinephile at heart—Tarantino’s razor-sharp dialogue, Scorsese’s masterful character studies, Nolan’s intricate narratives. You could analyze Pulp Fiction’s non-linear structure just as easily as you could tear apart The Wolf of Wall Street’s moral ambiguity.

Despite your differences, you both had an undeniable appreciation for storytelling—whether on stage or on screen. And naturally, that appreciation often turned into petty arguments.

"You can’t tell me The Ferryman isn’t one of the best pieces of theatre in the last decade," Theo scoffed one day, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, please. Jez is just doing modern-day Greek tragedy with a sprinkle of Irish drama. It’s compelling, sure, but it’s not reinventing the wheel."

Theo narrowed his eyes. "And what, you think Tarantino’s constant foot fetish and non-linear storytelling is revolutionary?"

"At least Tarantino has mastered the art of tension," you shot back. "The Sicilian scene in True Romance? The diner scene in Reservoir Dogs? You don’t need an elaborate set change or monologues drenched in metaphor—you just need two people in a room and a damn good script."

"That’s rich coming from someone who praises Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller—two of the most dialogue-heavy playwrights in existence."

Your friends groaned. They were used to this. You and Theo could argue for hours over narrative devices, symbolism, and whether theatre or cinema was the superior storytelling medium.

But one afternoon, during an extracurricular drama lesson, the argument escalated to a level that left everyone in the room speechless.

The class was discussing adaptations—how literature, theatre, and film intertwined.

Theo, ever the theatrical purist, argued, “Plays allow for the rawest human emotion. There are no camera tricks, no fancy editing—just an actor on stage, exposed. That’s why theatre will always have a deeper emotional impact than cinema.”

You weren’t about to let that slide. “That’s a wildly limited way of thinking. Film is just as much a visual art as it is a narrative one. Sure, theatre relies on the performer’s ability to hold an audience, but film can show a character’s internal struggle without a single word of dialogue. A glance, a shift in lighting—those subtle details can hit just as hard as a monologue.”

Theo tilted his head, amused. “Alright, then. A Streetcar Named Desire—would you rather see it on stage or in Elia Kazan’s adaptation?”

You smirked. “Kazan’s adaptation is brilliant, but you’re proving my point. The film version utilizes Marlon Brando’s raw, visceral performance while also using close-ups, sound design, and visual metaphors to enhance it. Theatre is powerful, but it’s limited by its medium. Film has more tools.”

The tension in the room thickened as you both volleyed back and forth—citing everything from Angels in America to Taxi Driver, from Arthur Miller’s The Crucible to Nolan’s Memento.

By the time you both stopped to take a breath, the rest of the class was staring at you like they had just witnessed an academic duel to the death.

Blaise, looking mildly concerned, muttered, “I think you two just argued in a language no one else speaks.” Pansy blinked and slowly nodded her head, “did you just name-drop fifteen different playwrights and directors in the span of five minutes?”

Draco, unimpressed, simply said, “I came here to watch people pretend to be trees, not to witness whatever that was.”

You and Theo exchanged a look. And, despite everything, a slow grin spread across both your faces. Because for all the arguing, all the differences, and all the passionate debates—you loved every second of it.

- ★、

The weekend had finally arrived, and with it, your much-anticipated cinema trip. It wasn’t every day you got to slip away from the castle, apparate to London, and immerse yourself in the warm glow of a dimly lit theatre, the smell of buttered popcorn thick in the air. Tonight’s screening? A Tarantino classic—Inglourious Basterds. You were practically buzzing with excitement as you stepped into the theatre, savoring the moment before the film began.

And then you saw him.

Theodore. Bloody. Nott.

Leaning against the concession stand, hands in his pockets, looking as if he belonged in some noir film with his perfectly tailored coat and unimpressed expression. His sharp gaze flicked over to you, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, well,” he drawled, stepping closer. “Didn’t peg you for the type to sneak off to London alone for a late-night film screening. How rebellious.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t strike me as the type to appreciate Tarantino. What are you doing here, Theo?”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “What, am I not allowed to expand my horizons? Maybe I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Oh, please. You’ve spent weeks slandering film in favor of theatre, and now you suddenly show up to a Tarantino movie of all things?”

Theo hummed thoughtfully, stepping closer, so close that the scent of his cologne—expensive and frustratingly good—filled your senses. “Maybe,” he mused, “I just enjoy riling you up.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was betraying you with its traitorous thump against your ribs. “Right. So you apparated to London, found this exact cinema, and happened to pick the same showing as me? Coincidence?”

His smirk deepened. “Perhaps.”

Before you could interrogate him further, the theatre doors opened, and people started filing inside. You exhaled, shaking your head. “You know what? I don’t care why you’re here. Just—don’t ruin the film for me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, trailing after you.

You found your seat, sinking into the plush velvet, determined to ignore the fact that Theodore Nott had somehow ended up in the seat directly beside you. He stretched out, looking infuriatingly at ease, as if this hadn’t been some grand invasion of your sacred cinema time.

And then, as the lights dimmed and the first scene flickered onto the screen, Theo leaned in—just enough for his breath to ghost against your ear.

“If this film doesn’t impress me,” he whispered, “you owe me a ticket to the next play I pick.”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze, and smirked. “Fine. But when you inevitably love it, you’re admitting I was right.”

Theodore just chuckled, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest. “We’ll see.”

As the film unfolded on the screen, you found yourself hyperaware of Theodore’s presence beside you. It was ridiculous, really—how could one person occupy so much space without actually moving?

His elbow rested dangerously close to yours on the armrest, his long legs stretched out in that careless way he always sat, as if the entire world was his to lounge in.

You tried to focus on the movie, on the tense exchange between Landa and Perrier LaPadite, but Theo shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours, and suddenly, every bit of dialogue seemed to drown beneath the sound of your own heartbeat.

You weren’t sure when it happened—when the push and pull of your debates, the sharp edge of your banter, had morphed into something more charged, something that left a static hum in the air between you.

Maybe it had always been there, simmering beneath every eye roll, every challenge, every smirk that lasted a second too long. And now, sitting here in the dim glow of the theatre, with flickering light casting shadows across his annoyingly perfect features, it was impossible to ignore.

Halfway through the film, Theo leaned in again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Alright, I’ll admit it. The dialogue is brilliant.”

You smirked, keeping your eyes trained on the screen. “Told you.”

His fingers tapped idly against the armrest, a steady, maddening rhythm. “Still doesn’t mean it’s better than theatre.”

You turned your head slightly, lips curving in amusement. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Theo tilted his face toward you, his voice dropping lower, smoother. “Because film lets you hide. Close-ups, cuts, music—it manipulates how you feel. Theatre? It’s raw. No second takes. No distractions.” His eyes flickered over your face, lingering just a moment too long on your lips. “You can’t escape it.”

A shiver ran down your spine, though whether it was from his words or the way his voice curled around them, you weren’t entirely sure. You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus. “You call it hiding. I call it perspective. The camera lets you see things no audience member ever could—something intimate, something only you get to witness.”

Theo hummed, considering that. The tension between you had shifted into something heavier, something that pressed into the space between breaths. He was still close, close enough that you could catch the faintest scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from where his arm rested near yours. It would be so easy to lean in just a little more, to close that final inch between you.

And then, just as you were about to force yourself to sit back, to pretend none of this was affecting you, he moved.

Slow, deliberate. His fingers brushed against the back of your hand, the touch featherlight, testing. Your breath hitched, your pulse hammering against your ribs, but you didn’t pull away. Theo, ever perceptive, took that as permission, his fingers shifting, tracing the delicate curve of your wrist.

“You’re… mad, Theo. You’re out of your mind,” you murmured, barely aware you had spoken the words aloud.

His lips quirked, but there was something darker in his gaze now, something that sent heat curling low in your stomach. “That’s right…,” he murmured, his fingers sliding between yours, “but you’re too, you haven’t moved.”

You knew you should say something—should tease him, should act unaffected—but all logic had abandoned you the moment his hand fully curled around yours. The room around you had disappeared, the film reduced to a distant hum in the background.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Theo lifted your intertwined hands, brushing his lips against the inside of your wrist. It was barely a kiss—more of a ghost of one—but it sent a shiver straight down your spine, igniting something electric in your veins.

Your breath hitched. “Theo—”

“I know,” he murmured, voice impossibly low, as if he was reading every thought racing through your mind. His thumb traced slow, teasing circles over your palm, his lips still hovering dangerously close to your skin. “Tell me to stop.”

But you didn’t.

You exhaled shakily, tilting your head slightly toward him, meeting his gaze through the dim flicker of the screen. “What if I don’t want to?”

His smirk deepened, but there was something softer there, something almost unreadable. For a moment, he just looked at you, as if memorizing every detail, before he finally whispered, “Then we might have a problem.”

And the worst part?

You wanted to find out just how much of a problem it could be.

The world outside of your little bubble had disappeared completely—the film playing on the screen, the murmur of the other audience members, the distant rustling of popcorn bags—it all faded into nothing. All that remained was Theodore, his touch burning into your skin, the weight of his gaze heavy as it flickered down to your lips.

His hand tightened ever so slightly around yours, his thumb tracing the delicate skin of your wrist, and you swore you felt your heartbeat stutter. There was something unbearably patient about the way he was looking at you, like he was waiting—waiting for you to pull away, to scoff and shove him off, to turn this into just another one of your never-ending debates. But you didn’t move.

Instead, you found yourself leaning in, the warmth between you growing thick, heavy. Your noses brushed—barely, just a whisper of contact—but it sent something electric crackling through your veins.

Theo exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath. His voice was nothing more than a murmur, just for you. “You’re really not stopping me.”

You smirked, fingers tightening slightly around his. “I thought you liked risks.”

His lips caught yours in the next breath, slow at first—just a soft, testing press, as if he wasn’t entirely sure this was real. But then you sighed against his mouth, tilting your head slightly, and finally leaned in.

Theo let go of whatever restraint he had left. His free hand came up to cradle your jaw, fingers pressing gently beneath your ear as he deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second.

He tasted faintly of Italian summer and something richer, something entirely him. His touch was both careful and possessive, like he was memorizing the shape of you beneath his fingertips. You felt yourself melt into it, the heat between you intensifying, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You barely noticed the way his thumb brushed over your cheek, the way he tilted your chin just slightly to kiss you deeper. Everything about it was intoxicating—the way he moved, the way he swallowed the quiet little sigh that escaped you, the way his fingers flexed against your skin like he didn’t want to let go.

Somewhere in the background, the movie continued playing—gunfire, sharp dialogue, the rise of a dramatic score—but it all blurred into nothing. All you could focus on was Theo, on the way he was kissing you like he’d been waiting for this, like he wasn’t sure he’d get another chance.

When he finally, reluctantly, pulled away, his lips barely ghosting over yours, you were both breathless. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, his fingers still cupping your jaw, his thumb tracing absent patterns over your skin.

You opened your eyes slowly, meeting his gaze. His pupils were blown, his lips slightly parted, and for the first time, Theodore Nott looked entirely, devastatingly undone.

A slow, lazy smirk curled at the corner of his lips. “Well,” he murmured, voice slightly rough. “I suppose I owe Tarantino some credit after all.”

You let out a breathy laugh, rolling your eyes. “Unbelievable.”

He chuckled, fingers trailing down the side of your throat, as if he wasn’t quite ready to stop touching you yet. “Admit it,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You liked that more than the film.”

You hummed, pretending to consider. “Jury’s still out.”

Theo smirked, his lips brushing yours again in a featherlight kiss, like a silent promise. “Then I guess I’ll just have to convince you.”

And as he pulls you back into another kiss, slow and deep and utterly devastating, you realise with absolute certainty—you were in trouble.

Theodore's hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, his lips moving with an urgency that steals your breath. He pulls you closer, eliminating any remaining distance between your bodies, his heart hammering against his ribs.

His other hand splays across your lower back, pressing you flush against him as the kiss grows more heated, more demanding. He nips at your lower lip, his tongue soothing the sting before delving back into your mouth, stroking along yours in a dance that leaves you breathless. The cinema, the other people, the movie - it all disappears. There is only the two of you, lost in the passion of this stolen moment.

When Theodore finally breaks the kiss, you're both left panting, your chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering open to gaze into yours with an intensity that makes your heart stutter. “Fuck..." he breathes, his voice ragged with desire.

And then, an act on impulse, a surge of primal instinct driving him. In one swift, fluid motion, he reaches under your thighs and lifts you effortlessly, settling you straddled on his lap. The sudden change in position startles you both, but the shock quickly melts into a shiver of pleasure as you feel the hard, muscular length of his thighs beneath you.

The cinema has long since faded from your awareness; now there is only the two of you, the heat building between your bodies, the electricity crackling in the air.

Theodore's hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh almost hard enough to bruise as he holds you in place. Your chest is pressed against his, and you can feel the pounding of his heart, the rapid rise and fall of his breathing.

His eyes are dark, almost black in the dim light, blazing into yours with an intensity that makes your own pulse race. "Darling," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky rumble. His hands move again up your back, one tangling in your hair while the other cups the back of your neck, pulling you into a searing, desperate kiss.

The kiss is a clash of lips and tongues, a dance of passion and pent-up longing. It's a kiss that speaks of a hunger, a need, a desperation that can no longer be contained. Theodore kisses you like a man starved, like he is trying to devour you, to consume you, to make you a part of him.

Red faced, messy hair, you look up at him. “Sh-shit Theo, we shouldn’t be doing this here.” You quietly giggled.

Theodore chuckles softly at your giggle, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. He doesn't stop his ministrations, his hands still roaming your curves with a familiar confidence.

But he does lean back slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Shh, shh, bella, what's the matter? Don't tell me you're getting shy on me now..." he teases, his voice a low murmur meant only for your ears.

"We're just two lovers, lost in the moment. Surely there's no harm in that?" His hand slides from your hip to your thigh, his fingers tracing maddeningly slow circles on your skin. Your breath hitches at the touch, a fresh wave of goosebumps erupting across your flesh.

Theodore's eyes darken with lust as he feels your hips squirming against him, your plush rear rubbing against his hardening cock through the fabric of his trousers.

A low, guttural groan escapes his lips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. His other hand slides up your side, his fingertips skimming the side of your breast, teasing you with the promise of his touch.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your flesh. "Gorgeous, you feel what you do to me, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice a low, husky growl.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your stomach as your grip tightened on his coat. The way he spoke, all dark velvet and wicked amusement, made your head spin. You did feel it—the tension thrumming between you, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the way his fingers ghosted over your skin like he was memorizing the shape of you. And Merlin, it was driving you insane.

Your breath hitched as you shifted against him, creating more friction, desperate for anything to relieve the ache building inside you. His sharp inhale, the barely restrained groan against your throat, sent a rush of satisfaction through you.

"Fuck," Theo muttered, his lips grazing the delicate skin beneath your jaw. "You're dangerous."

A breathy laugh escaped you, but it was cut short as he tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. His nose skimmed along the column of your throat before he pressed an open-mouthed kiss there, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the way you trembled against him.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, lips brushing against your pulse point. "Arguing with you, watching you get all worked up—Merlin—and now this?" His teeth grazed your skin, not quite biting, just enough to make your breath stutter. "Gorgeous, you have no idea how long I've wanted this."

His confession sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and you couldn't help the way your hips rolled against his, seeking more of the delicious friction he so easily provided. His hands gripped you tighter, his restraint fraying with each passing second.

Theo let out a strained chuckle, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something dangerous. "If you keep doing that, sweetheart," he murmured, voice thick with desire, "I'm going to forget we're in a bloody cinema."

The thought sent a thrill through you, but you knew he was right. The dim glow of the screen cast flickering shadows across his sharp features, but the reality of your surroundings was quickly slipping away, drowned out by the intoxicating heat between you.

You licked your lips, breathless. "Then maybe you should."

Theo stilled for a fraction of a second, his fingers flexing against your waist. And then—Merlin, then—his lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

"Brilliant idea, darling," he purred.

And before you could second-guess yourself, before the haze of lust could fade, Theo was back at it again, with more force and more desire.

Theodore's hand cups your breast fully now, his thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling your hardened nipple through the thin material of your shirt. His lips trail up your neck, pausing to nip and suck at your pulse point before moving to your ear.

"I want to bend you over the back of this seat and fuck you until you scream, until the entire cinema knows who you belong to," he whispers, his voice rough with need.

"I want to make you come on my cock again and again until you're begging me to stop, until you're completely and utterly satisfied..." His hand slides down your stomach, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your skirt, teasing the sensitive skin just above where you crave his touch most.

Theodore's eyes blaze into yours, filled with a hunger and a desperation that makes your core clench with anticipation. "But I suppose I can be patient, for now," he murmurs, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"After all, the anticipation, the build-up, the waiting... it's all part of the thrill, isn't it? Knowing that I could take you right here, right now, but choosing not to... for now."

He pulls you into another searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, consuming you, until you're left breathless and wanting.

When he finally breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, a wicked glint in his eye. "Tell me," he murmurs, his voice a low, sinful purr. "What do you want, my clever little witch?”

“N-no, Theo.” You blush, feeling hot. “I’m too turned on, I’ll be quiet I promise.”

Theodore's eyes flash with triumph and desire at your breathless, needy words. A smug, satisfied smirk spreads across his handsome face as he realizes the effect he's having on you.

His hand slides further down, his fingers brushing against your clothed sex, feeling the damp heat radiating through the fabric. "Mmm, is that so, pretty?" he murmurs, his voice a low, husky purr.

"You want me to fuck you, right here, right now, don't you? Want me to slip my hard, aching cock inside your tight, wet little cunt until you're screaming my name?" His fingers rub slow, teasing circles over your clothed clit, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm and whimper with need.

Theodore leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, his voice dripping with sinful promise. "I promise, I'll make it worth it. I'll fuck you so hard and so good that you'll forget where we are, and every single time, that you watch this movie, you will only see me.”

His other hand slides up your shirt, pushing the fabric out of the way to expose your heaving breasts. He cups the soft mounds, kneading and squeezing them, his thumbs and forefingers pinching and tugging at your hardened nipples.

"You just need to be a good girl and stay quiet for me, understand? No matter how much you want to scream, no matter how much you want to cry out in ecstasy, you need to stay silent. Think you can do that, tesoro?" Theodore's eyes blaze into yours, filled with a hunger and a desperation that makes your core clench with anticipation.

His hand slips beneath your skirt, his fingers brushing against your slick folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal.

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, his voice a low, commanding growl. "Are you ready for me to fuck you like you've never been fucked before, right here, right now, in front of all these unsuspecting people?”

Theodore takes your silent nod as the consent it is, his eyes darkening with a new wave of lust and desire.

His hand slips further beneath your skirt, his fingers brushing against your slick, bare folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal coating his skin. With a low, guttural groan, he pushes two fingers deep inside you, his thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit.

He pumps his fingers in and out of your tight heat, his palm pressing against your clit with each thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through your body. Theodore leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Shit, you're so fucking wet. So ready for my cock, aren't you? I can feel your greedy little cunt sucking me in, begging to be filled..."

His other hand still up your shirt, pushes the fabric of your bra out of the way completely. He leans down, taking the stiff peak into his mouth, suckling and nibbling until you're writhing against him, barely able to stay silent.

Thank Merlin, you guys are in the last row, and the cinema’s loud speakers consume the room, the attention of the silent watchers move away from you both, the world narrowing down to the feeling of Theodore's hands on your body, his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping sex, his mouth on your breast.

You can feel the hard, thick length of his cock pressing against your ass, the evidence of his own desperate arousal. Theodore's hand slides from your breast to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he grinds his hips against yours, the rough fabric of his trousers rubbing against your sensitive flesh.

He captures your lips in a searing, desperate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, consuming you.

"Mmh... please Teddy." You can't hold it in. It's been too long, he's teasing too much. "Hurry up so we can get the hell out."

Noticing your discomfort, and your inability to stay fucking quiet, Theodore’s eyes widen briefly at your plea, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He chuckles softly, a low, sinful sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

His fingers continue their relentless assault on your dripping pussy, pumping in and out, curling against that sensitive spot deep inside you that makes your toes curl and your back arch. "Mmm, so eager, aren't you beautiful?" he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing purr.

"So desperate for my cock, so hungry for me to fill you up, to make you mine..."

He nips at your lower lip, his teeth tugging on the tender flesh, before soothing the sting with his tongue. His hand slides from your neck to your hip, gripping the curve possessively. "Very well, my love. I suppose we can finish the movie another time… too bad we couldn’t do it in here.��

Theodore's voice is low and rough with desire as he slowly withdraws his fingers from your dripping sex. You whimper at the loss, your body aching to be filled, to be stretched and used. He stands abruptly, pulling you up with him.

With deft, practiced movements, he straightens your skirt and shirt, making you presentable once more. Taking your hand in his, he leads you quickly and quietly out of the cinema, weaving through the darkened aisles until you reach the emergency exit at the back.

Pushing open the door, Theodore pulls you into the cool night air, the stars twinkling above you in the inky black sky. He doesn't stop until he finds a secluded spot behind a tall hedgerow, hidden from view of the cinema and the buzzing streets of London.

Turning to face you, Theodore pulls you flush against him, his hands gripping your hips with hands that you knew would leave a mark.

He connects both your mouths, hurriedly, impatient to fuck you good.

He groans into your mouth, his tongue delving deep, stroking along yours, tasting you, consuming you. His hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing the firm globes before lifting you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He carries you a few steps further, until your back is pressed against the rough bark of a sturdy brick wall.

Breaking the kiss, Theodore leans back just enough to look into your eyes, his own blazing with a hunger and a desperation that makes your heart race.

He reaches down with one hand, fumbling briefly with the fastenings of his trousers before freeing his aching cock. It springs forth, shiny and veiny and heavy, the swollen head already glistening with precum.

He strokes himself once, twice, hissing at the sensation, before gripping your thigh and positioning himself at your entrance. "Tell me, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a low, rough growl. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you need my cock inside you, filling you, claiming you, making you mine. Say it, cara mia..." He rubs the head of his cock teasingly against your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal.

His other hand slides up your jaw, cupping your face, his thumb playing with your swollen pouty lips. His eyes bore into yours, filled with a desperate, aching need. The cool night air kisses your skin, but the heat building between your bodies is scorching, all consuming.

Theodore's chest heaves with each ragged breath, his heart pounding against his ribs. He's waiting for your consent, your permission, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.

With a sudden, sharp thrust, he sheaths himself inside you, burying his thick, hard length deep into your tight, wet heat. He groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure that sends shockwaves through your body.

He starts to move, his hips rolling against yours, his cock sliding in and out of your dripping sex with long, deep strokes. “Cazzo..." Theodore grits out, his voice strained with exertion and ecstasy. "You feel exquisite, like you were made just for me. So fucking tight, so fucking perfect..." He captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans and cries of pleasure.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you down to meet his thrusts, the force of them making you shake against the hard wall.

Theodore groans at your sudden cry, the sound turning him on. He pistons his hips faster, driving into you with a newfound urgency, the force of his thrusts making the old oak tree shudder and sway around you.

"That's it, bella," he pants, his voice a low, rough growl. "Let me hear you. I want to hear every little sound you make, every desperate plea falling from your pretty lips. Were not in there any more, don’t hold back princess…”

One hand slides from your hip to your thigh, pushing your leg higher up his waist, opening you up to him, allowing him to delve even deeper into your tight, clenching heat.

The other hand slides up your shirt, exposing once again your heaving breasts to the cool night air. Theodore leans down, taking one hardened nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling at the sensitive bud until you're writhing against him, your fingers tangling in his dark hair.

He laves his tongue over the reddened flesh, soothing the sting of his bites before moving to its twin, giving it the same attention.

All the while, he never stops his relentless assault on your pussy, his cock pounding into you with a force that steals your breath and makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

You can feel the tension building low in your belly, the coil tightening with each thrust, each stroke, each press of his hips against yours. Theodore's hand slides between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over the swollen nub.

His touch is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "That's it, baby," he murmurs against your breast, his voice a low, sinful purr.

"Come for me, my love. Come on my cock like the perfect little angel you are. I want to feel you…”

Theodore feels your sex clamp down around his cock like a vice as your orgasm overtakes you. He groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure that echoes through the quiet night air, as your walls flutter and spasm around his throbbing length.

He doesn't slow his thrusts, instead pounding into your quivering heat with a newfound fervor, prolonging your climax, drawing out your ecstasy.

“Yes, yes, yes… just like that” he growls, his voice ragged and strained with his own impending release. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so tightly, like you never want to let me go. I can feel your greedy little cunt trying to swallow this big dick.”

He captures your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure, his tongue delving deep to stroke along yours, to dance and twine with yours in a lewd, filthy imitation of the act taking place below.

His hands grip your ass, squeezing the firm globes, pulling you harder against him, burying himself impossibly deeper inside you with each powerful thrust. Theo's fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles over the sensitive nub, pushing you through your climax and straight into another.

Your body is trembling, shaking, the pleasure almost too intense to bear as he fucks you through the aftershocks, the waves of bliss crashing over you again and again. He can feel his own release building, the tension coiling at the base of his spine, his balls drawing up tight.

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside your still fluttering sex, his cock pulsing, throbbing, as he finds his own completion.

"Fuck, pretty, fuck!" Theodore roars, his voice echoing through the night as he starts to come, his thick, hot seed spurting deep inside you, painting your walls white.

His hips continue to roll, grinding against yours, drawing out his orgasm, filling you up just like he promised.

He holds you close as the waves of pleasure slowly ebb, your combined releases trickling down your thighs, marking you, claiming you, making you his.

Theodore's heart hammers against his chest as he tries to catch his breath, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes locked with yours.

You felt colder now, the sharp night air finally biting at your flushed skin, but Theo barely let you move away from him. His arms were still wrapped around you, firm and possessive, as if he had no intention of letting you go just yet. And honestly? You weren’t about to complain.

Your breath came in slow, uneven pants as you tried to recover, your forehead still pressed against his. His lips curled into the ghost of a smirk, his usual arrogance softened by the post-bliss haze settling over both of you.

“Merlin,” Theo finally muttered, voice still thick and gravelly, “that was—” He exhaled, shaking his head like he couldn’t even find the words.

You let out a breathy, satisfied laugh, tilting your head to look at him. “Better than theatre?”

His lips twitched, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re really asking me that?”

You hummed, feigning nonchalance even as your body still buzzed from everything you’d just done. “Well, I mean, I know you think theatre is the peak of human artistic expression, but surely even you have to admit that was… cinematic.”

Theo let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Cinematic?”

You grinned, biting your lip. “Perfectly timed tension, intense buildup, and an unforgettable climax—I’d say we just gave Scorsese a run for his money.”

Theo groaned, tipping his head back, but you caught the way his lips twitched, like he was trying so hard not to smile. “You would turn this into a bloody film analysis.”

You shrugged, smug. “And you would turn it into a tragic, forbidden romance.”

“Obviously,” he shot back, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Star-crossed lovers, clashing ideals, unbearable tension—”

“—and a dramatic resolution that makes the audience swoon,” you added, nudging his ribs.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled you in closer. “Fine, I’ll admit it. That was—” He lowered his voice, leaning in to whisper against your ear, “—Oscar-worthy.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, pushing playfully at his chest. “You’re giving credit to film? You? Theodore Nott?”

He smirked, completely unbothered. “Even I have to admit, some performances just can’t be staged.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you finally let yourself melt into his arms, letting the cool London air wrap around you both. “Well, I suppose there’s only one thing left to do now.”

He raised a brow. “And that is?”

You looked up at him, feigning seriousness. “Debrief. Proper analysis, compare our perspectives—”

“Absolutely not,” Theo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re insufferable.”

You grinned. “And yet, you’re still holding me.”

Theo sighed, shaking his head with an affectionate smirk. “Yeah, well… Guess I do have a weakness for a well-written story.”

His lips met yours again, soft and unhurried this time, and you couldn’t help but think—whether it was theatre or cinema, tragedy or romance—this? This was your favorite story yet.

#⋆. 𐙚 ˚ yua0ra’s works #slytherin #slytherin boys #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #wizarding world #hp fanfic #theo nott #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott smut

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presidentsdaughter · 18 days ago

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note/tags - suicide but not jimmy.. just his mom, slight gore mention, some smut?, dry humping, jimmy is like early 20s in this.. start to a fic i couldn’t bother to finish, bad writing..

Jimmy’s mom is all over the walls. It’s like someone has set off a fucking party popper. She didn’t even have the decency to get him a banner.

Welcome home Jim! Congrats on getting bailed out! I knew you could do it!

Not even that. Not a single slice of cake. Not even a candle or a party hat or a gift box or a fucking hug. Whatever people get on their birthdays.

Jimmy stands there, jaw tight, unblinking as he looks over the mess she has made of herself, the house, and his life. She’s smoked all her cigs, drained every bottle, snorted anything fine enough to suck up through a straw, and he knows Mom, she’d never leave a needle behind. So the only thing she leaves in his name is this mess and this awful smell.

He toes at what is left of her, her legs bent awkwardly at the knee like a mistreated Barbie doll. Her face is this gaping hole that looks something like her bloody cunt the day she pushed him out. For a second he wishes that it would open up like the maw of a beast and swallow him whole, take him back to where he came from, and then he goes back to feeling nothing much.

It’s no biggie. Jimmy never liked her much. She liked Curly more than she liked him, but everyone likes Curly more than him. He’s a sole-crushed peach splattered on the sidewalk, picking up grit and dirt, and Curly is a fucking prized watermelon or a silver spoon, a real nice spoon, the fancy kind you only get out for guests—He’d come and use his polished edge to scoop Jimmy right up, shape him into something nice, clean him off and serve him for dessert.

Curly bailed him out. He drove Jimmy home in his nice new car, it smelt good and had his initials on the number plate. He did this all because he needs Jimmy to feel good. So he can go and tell anyone that’ll listen about his piss-poor junkie best friend. How he put him back on his feet. Curly is modern day fucking Christ and Jimmy is a crippled leper.

By his mother’s open hand is his father’s handgun. She’s named Mia after the chick in Pulp Fiction. Jimmy picks her up, gives her a once over, and tucks her in his back pocket for a rainy day. He goes to take a piss because he’s been busting for one ever since Curly picked him up, but the throbbing urgency numbed when he saw his fragments of mom’s skull dotting the carpet like milk teeth.

Jimmy takes his piss and then he notices mom didn’t even leave a single sheet of toilet paper behind. He shakes himself dry, returns to the couch where she lays limp, thinks of blowing off her tits and then decides she isn’t worth another bullet. Jimmy turns the gun to himself. He wonders if mom put it to the right side of her head or the left. Probably in her stupid whore mouth. She would let anyone in there.

“You’re joining the party, huh?” You’re standing in the doorway of his trailer, lukewarm and unsmiling, snapping your gum like this is no big deal. You’ve always been that way. Unaffected. Jimmy pulls the trigger and Mia jams. She’s an old girl. He forgives her. He just wanted to see you cry.

Jimmy doesn’t really think you would cry, but he likes the thought of it. You would look so fucking ugly when you cry.

“I found her earlier, heard the shot and came to check.” You’re wearing short shorts so short the inside of your pockets hang out past the cuffs. “But I thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

“Fuck you,” Jimmy says, arm dangling by his side. Mia clatters to the ground when his fingers lose grip.

“That’s not very nice,” you tell him evenly, sidestepping clumps of clotted blood to get to him.

Jimmy flops down beside his mom’s faceless body. She talked too much so the silence is kind of nice. He spreads his legs and you drape yourself over him, pressing your tits to his chest and sucking his tongue into your warm mouth.

“I didn’t forget your present.” You’re rolling your hips into his, the old couch creaks with the weight of all two and a half of you. His mom topples sideways onto his shoulder and Jimmy shoves her dead weight back the other way. Blood smears the arm of his shirt where she fell, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Oh, yeah?” Jimmy bites your neck, he feels the pulse of your hot cunt through those tiny shorts.

“Course I didn’t, saved the date and everything.”

He half expects you to dig into your bra and pull out a baggie of something, but you just offer him a half smile, giving a sideways glance to the stinking corpse.

#🧸.shorts #mouthwashing jimmy x reader #jimmy mouthwashing x reader #jimmy x reader #mouthwashing x you #mouthwashing smut #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing jimmy smut #jimmy smut

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javierpena-inatacvest · 1 year ago

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Movie Night

Summary: You and Javi are trying to pick a movie to watch together. When Javi decides to change into gray sweatpants to get more comfortable... something else besides movie watching ensues.

Word Count: 2.3K

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), established relationship, face fucking, oral (m receiving), mastrubation (f), praise kink, Javi in gray sweatpants (it deserves its own warning), reader has hair that can be held, Javi being a menace but still soft and sweet (because that's just how I roll)

A/N: This was inspired by an ask from an anon (thank you, non, Javi in gray sweatpants is everything), and I'm absolutely feral completely normal about it!!! Also, I had this gif in mind the whole time I was writing this because GOD DAMN 🥴🥵

This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!!

“Forrest Gump?”

“No…”

“Jaws?”

“No, not that either…”

“Pulp Fiction?”

“Not that one…”

“Well ya gotta pick something Osita.” Javi sighed, laughing to himself at your indecisiveness as he put back the VHS tape choices he had pulled out for your weekly Friday night movie. Ever since the two of you had started dating, Friday nights had been exclusively reserved for you and Javi cuddling up on your couch, eating the pizza he picked up on the way home from work, and catching him up on the many movie classics he had missed since his time away in Colombia- a well deserved way to end both of your weeks. The first few weeks of movie night picks had been easy- mandating that Javi had to watch all of the Star Wars and Indiana Jones series (your two personal favorites) before moving on to anything else. You had let Javi pick what movies he had wanted to watch from there, mostly to curb any time wasted from your indecisiveness on choosing something.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna pick?” You groaned, squatting down next to Javi as the two of you sorted through the movie collection under the TV stand.

“Osita, I’ve picked like, the last 3 weeks in a row. I promise, I don’t care what we watch. I’ll make it easy on you. Here…” Reaching back into the TV stand, Javi pulled out a few random movies, scattering them on the ground before looking back at you. “I’m gonna go change out of my work clothes, pick something from these by the time I get back. Only 4 choices. Can’t be that hard, ya dork.” Javi chuckled, pressing a quick kiss onto your forehead before standing back up and making his way towards the bedroom.

‘Fine…” You grumbled, shuffling through the choices that Javi had left. Reaching down next to you, you picked up “The Princess Bride”, deeming it the best of the 4 random tapes Javi had pulled from the TV stand, popping it in to the VHS player before settling back onto the couch, curling up in one of the blankets you had draped over the sides. “I picked something!” You shouted towards the bedroom, hearing Javi’s footsteps beginning to make their way down the hall.

“See? Knew you could do it, Hermosa.” Javi’s voice trailed behind him as he stepped into the living room, playfully rolling his eyes at you. “So, what are we watching?”

Truth be told, you hadn’t heard a single word Javi had said since you had watched him enter the living room- Not after seeing what he was wearing.

He had changed out of his work attire and exchanged it for a fitted black t-shirt and gray sweatpants that left very little to the imagination. Javi had insisted to you that they really were the only pair of sweatpants that he had, but there was a part of you that was convinced he knew just how irresistible he looked in them, and that the sight of him in those pants made you absolutely feral.

“Hmmmm?” You replied, visibly shaking your head to try and reel yourself in from the thoughts you were already having after seeing your boyfriend walk into the room in his new outfit. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked, what movie are we watching?” He nodded towards the TV as he sat next to you on the couch, legs splayed open in a way that had the outline of his bulge perfectly pressed against the gray fabric of his pants. You could practically feel your mouth watering as you looked down at his lap- you were trying your best not to stare, but you couldn’t help but swipe your tongue along your bottom lip breathing heavily as you looked up at Javi.

“Or…” You smirked, working your way across the couch to crawl into Javi’s lap, straddling him with your legs on either side of his, running your fingers through the dark curls of his hair. “We could not watch the movie and do something else.” Your hands began to travel down Javi’s body, resting on his chest and grabbing at fist fulls of his shirt as your hips pressed down into his, feeling him starting to become hard underneath you, your kisses becoming desperate and frantic.

“Something else, huh?” You could feel Javi’s boyish grin between the presses of your lips, his hands working their way up and down your body before digging into your hips as you rolled them against his lap.

“Mhmmmmmm.” You nodded, reaching down to palm at Javi’s dick, straining against the fabric of his pants. “God, you look so good in these. You know what these sweatpants do to me, Jav?” Your kisses left Javi’s lips, slowly trailing down his body in hot, wet presses against the exposed skin of his neck and soft fabric of his shirt. You slid off Javi’s lap, kneeling on the ground in front of him, tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants, springing free his cock, already painfully hard and leaking with precum. Javi lifted his legs, shuffling his pants down to pool around his ankles, letting your hands and kisses wander up his thighs.

“Fuck me, Hermosa…” Javi groaned, leaning his head back against the edge of the couch as you planted hot kisses along his length, one hand slowly stroking the base of his shaft, the other running up and down the skin of his legs. “You wanna suck my dick, baby?”

You smirked, gently shaking your head from side to side, looking up at Javi. “I- I want you to fuck my mouth, Javi.”

Javi’s eyes went wide, jaw immediately going slack as your words left your mouth, visabally taking a moment to process your request. He reached down to cradle your face, forcing your gaze up towards his. “Baby… I don’t- Hermosa…are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you or anything.”

Regardless of what either of you wanted in the bedroom, rough, soft, or anything in between, Javi’s first priority had always been making sure that first and foremost, you were comfortable. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about your request before- as much as he loved going down on you, Javi absolutely lost his mind every time you went down on him, and the thought of you on your knees, taking his cock deep down your throat as he fucked your mouth had him rock hard.

“Javi,” You giggled, biting down on your lip, raising an eyebrow at him, “I’m positive. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t want to. I wanna make you feel good, baby.” Grabbing the hand gently cupping your cheek, you tugged at it, forcing him to stand up, running your hands up and down his thighs before removing one to lick a broad strip down your palm and wrap it around his shaft, slowly stroking it, making him groan.

“Fuck me.” He muttered to himself, watching you wrap your hand around his length and taking him into your mouth, swirling the tangy mix of his arousal and your spit around your tongue. He ran his hand through the dark curls of his hair, trying his best to keep his composure, already so worked up from just the thought of what you were about to let him do alone. “If it’s too much, you let me know, okay? Tap my leg or my arm or whatever, and I’ll stop, no questions asked, I-”

“Javi. I love you, baby. I wanna choke on your dick. I promise I’ll be okay.” You smirked, nodding in reassurance, hand still twisting around the base of his shaft, making its way up to thumb at his tip, red and leaking, sliding the mix of your saliva and his precum up and down his length.

“Jesus. Okay, Hermosa. Open that pretty mouth for me, baby girl.” He reached down, thumb tugging at your bottom lip before sliding his hand along the back of your head, carefully cradling it as your jaw hinged open, sticking out your tongue for him to place his cock on. Your eyes batted up at him through heavy lashes, gripping around the back of his bare thighs as you let your mouth relax, his length hard and heavy against your tongue as you took him between your lips. He eased into your throat, setting a slow pace as his hips gently rocked as you took him deeper into your mouth, hearing him audibly moan as your fingertips dug into the skin of his legs, urging him to go deeper, pulling him closer to you. “You sure?” Javi looked at you, eyes wide as you nodded, humming against his cock in approval, as if he knew exactly what your little gesture had meant.

Javi pulled back, pausing for a moment, a devilish smirk spreading across his face before pushing all the way back in, making you hollow your cheeks and breath through your nose, brushing up against the curls at his base, the sweet and musky scent of him filling your nostrils as you inhaled. “Oh fuck, Osita. Holy shit.” His voice rasped, hitching in the back of his throat watching your mouth fill with his cock. His fingers ran through your hair, tugging a little tighter as his thrusts began to quicken, his grunts and moans becoming louder with each push and pull. “Fuck, such a good girl taking me so well. So fucking pretty when you suck my cock baby, holy fuck.”

His other hand met his first, cupping the back of your head as he fucked into you, hitting the back of your throat as tears welled in your eyes and drool pooled from your lips as his cock consumed your mouth. You loved sucking Javi’s dick because you knew just how good it made him feel- watching his face all blissed out, leaving him a moaning and muttering mess. But this? Looking up at him through your heavy lids seeing the pure euphoria radiating off of him? It was unmatched.

You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that had rapidly been building between your legs, feeling the wetness pooling in the fabric of your underwear. Desperate to ease your own needs, you shifted one of the hands that was holding the back of Javi’s thigh, bringing it down to snake down your sweatpants and the waistband of your panties, humming in relief around Javi’s length as you rubbed your clit, already throbbing and pulsing before your fingers had even touched it. Feeling the absent grip of your fingertips in his leg, Javi looked down to see you touching yourself as his cock thrusted in and out of your mouth, making his jaw even more slack, while his pace became more frantic and sloppy.

“You touching yourself, baby? Fuck- sucking my cock like this got you all worked up?” Javi groaned through gritted teeth as you nodded up at him with watery eyes, hollowing your cheeks to try and keep from gagging as he brushed against the back of your throat. “Fuck meeee.” He whimpered, not sure how much longer he was going to last watching you, feeling the tingle at the base of his spine already beginning to grow. “Dirty fucking girl. I’m not gonna last much longer, baby- shit- be a good girl and make yourself cum on those pretty little fingers for me, yeah? Wanna see you- oh fuck- wanna see you cum for me before I fuck myself down your throat.”

Sliding deeper into your panties, you felt the slick covering your folds as you dipped your 2 fingers inside your heat, the palm of your hand bumping against your clit while you touched yourself, feeling equally as worked up and close to finishing as Javi was. Saliva spilled from the sides of your mouth as tears slid down your cheeks as Javi’s cock filled every inch of your mouth, the veins of his dick throbbing along your tongue. You could feel your pussy begin to flutter as your hands slid in and out of your dripping entrance, arousal pooling in your belly with each brush of your palm along your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your whimpers and moans humming around Javi’s cock had him reeling, his fingers gripping tighter around the ends of your hair as he cradled the back of your head, as he pushed deeper down your throat.

Suddenly, you could feel the coil inside you snap, your cunt clenching hard around your fingers as your orgasm ripped through you, your eyes squeezing shut and the breathing through your nose becoming heavier as you came. Knowing that you had hit your high, Javi sought relentlessly to reach his own, desperately thrusting into you. “Fuck me, Osita. Fuck. I’m so close baby, shit, gonna fill up that pretty mouth of yours. Meirda, Hermosa, ay dios mío, voy a-aahhhhhhhhh (Shit, Beautiful, oh my god, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh).” With one more push of his hips, Javi’s spilled himself inside you, hot ropes of his spend coating the back of your throat as his cock throbbed, milking himself of every last drop before pulling back out of your mouth. Both of your breaths were slow and heavy, Javi’s hand resting under your chin, tilting your messy, wet face up towards his as you swallowed, taking his cum down your throat.

“Jesus Christ…” He whispered to himself, his jaw still slack and eyes wide as he looked down at you, a devilish grin now growing across his face. “Fuck me. Fuck, that was so hot. You okay, baby?” He asked, pulling you up to stand as you used the back of your hand to wipe the spit still dripping from the edges of your lips.

“More than okay.” You smirked, pressing up on your tiptoes to plant a hot kiss on his lips, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. “We’re gonna have to get you new sweatpants, Jav.” You giggled, still laughing at the fabric pooled around his ankles. Javi tilted his head in confusion, reaching down to shuffle his pants and boxers over his legs.

“Why’s that, Hermosa?”

“Because if you keep putting on those sweatpants every time we’re supposed to watch a movie, I don’t think we’re ever gonna watch a movie again.”

Taglist

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @dappydelta @blackfemalenerd

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