#shiver is so stupid to draw really

[0bir]

i was gonna colour this in but i got like. lazy x-x'

one of the pose refs under cut, the other was taken from my mind

[munadrawson]

🐙🦑🍓🍓🍓💕

Click and Open image for HQ! [Commission OPEN] | [Cheap-bi Commission OPEN] | [Ko-fi] | [Twitter] | [Instagram]

Here are some more of them being sillies. And I can't draw chibis.

[driverlando]

✧.* TOTALLY US

synopsis - sometimes sex isn’t all sunshine and flowers, you and Oscar know that better then anyone else

before you continue: this contains smut so minors dni!! if you enjoy pls do give it a reblog, it means a lot to us writers :)

You never thought a quiet evening in could turn so hilariously chaotic, but here you were, tangled up with Oscar on your bed, the two of you giggling uncontrollably between heated kisses.

It had started innocently enough; a quiet dinner, a shared bottle of wine, conversations that flowed effortlessly and a movie neither of you had paid much attention to. Now, with the credits long since rolled, you were a tangled mess of limbs, caught somewhere between passion and laughter.

Oscar’s fingers traced lazy circles on your arm, sending shivers down your spine. You turned to face him, your heart skipping a beat at the playful glint in his eyes.

“Want to watch another one?” you asked, though your voice was heavy with a different kind of anticipation.

Oscar smirked. “I have a better idea.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that made your toes curl. You responded eagerly, hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, his hands roaming your body with increasing urgency.

“Bedroom?” he murmured against your lips, his breath hot on your skin.

“Yes,” you managed to reply, your voice breathless with desire.

You barely made it to the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way, leaving a trail of discarded garments that marked your path. By the time you reached the bed, you were both down to your underwear, the air between you electric with anticipation.

Oscar’s hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a mix of tenderness and urgency. He pushed you gently onto the bed, hovering over you, his eyes dark with desire.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky.

You felt a flush of heat spread across your skin, your body responding to his words and touch. He kissed you again, deep and passionate, before moving to your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire down your throat and across your collarbone.

His hands found the clasp of your bra, and with a deft flick, he tried to undo it. He fumbled for a moment, making you giggle against his mouth.

“Need some help?” you teased.

“I got it,” he insisted, though his fingers were still struggling. After a few more seconds of awkward fumbling, he finally managed to unclasp it, and you laughed together as he tossed it aside.

“Stupid thing” he murmured before moving his mouth lower, his lips and tongue teasing your nipples until you were squirming beneath him. You could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, and you reached for him, eager to feel him fully.

He responded by slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs and discarding them. He paused to shed his own remaining clothes, and then he was back, his body pressing against yours, the heat between you almost unbearable.

Oscar’s hand slipped between your thighs, fingers finding your most sensitive spot. You gasped, your hips arching into his touch. He teased you, drawing out your pleasure until you were begging for more.

“Please, Osc,” you moaned, your voice trembling with need.

“Patience,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to make this last.”

His fingers continued their slow, torturous rhythm, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Just as you were about to tip over, you felt a sharp pain in your leg. A cramp, you realised. You winced, trying to stretch it out without breaking the mood, but Oscar noticed immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern etched on his face, replacing the lust in his eyes.

“Cramp,” you winced, trying to stretch out your leg. “Just a cramp.”

Oscar chuckled, massaging your calf gently. “We really know how to set the mood, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, we’re a real romantic comedy.”

With the cramp finally easing, you resumed where you left off. Oscar’s fingers brought you back to the edge, his touch expert and teasing. You were so close, your body trembling with anticipation.

He moved over you again, positioning himself between your legs. As he pushed into you, you both gasped at the sensation, the connection electric. He started to move, slow and deliberate at first, each thrust building the intensity.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails digging into his back. The pleasure was overwhelming, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

“God, you feel amazing,” Oscar groaned, his voice husky with desire.

“So do you,” you managed to reply, your fingers tracing the muscles of his back.

Oscar began to pick up the pace, the rhythm quickening, the intensity building with each movement. You felt the tension coiling in your belly, your body trembling with anticipation.

And then, in a sudden shift, Oscar’s elbow slipped and accidentally jabbed you in the ribs. You yelped, more surprised than hurt, and he immediately froze.

“Sorry!” he exclaimed, eyes wide with concern.

You laughed, the absurdity of the moment breaking the tension, your giggles turning into full blown laughter. “It’s okay. We’re really on a roll tonight, huh? It’s been a disaster”

Oscar grinned, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. “Only a little,” he murmured against your mouth. “But we can make it work.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before adjusting the two of you to find a better position.

This time, when he entered you again, it was with a slow, deliberate thrust that made you both moan with pleasure. The rhythm resumed, the connection between you growing stronger with each movement.

You felt the tension build again, your body arching into his. Just as you were on the brink, his phone rang. You both froze, staring at the offending device.

“Ignore it,” you pleaded, your voice shaky.

Oscar glanced at the screen. “It’s my mom.”

“Seriously?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Can this night get any more ridiculous?”

He silenced the phone, tossing it aside. “She’s just going to have to wait.”

You laughed, pulling him back to you. “Good choice.”

Oscar’s lips met yours again, and the fire between you reignited instantly. His hands roamed your body, each touch reigniting the pleasure that had been building. He moved inside you again, the sensation even more intense than before.

You moved together, the rhythm perfect, the pleasure building rapidly. This time, there were no more interruptions. Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, laughter giving way to gasps and moans. You finally reached that elusive peak together, the pleasure washing over you both in waves.

Afterward, you lay tangled in each other’s arms, hearts racing and smiles plastered on your faces.

“That was…something,” Oscar said, his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and amusement.

“Yeah,” you agreed, snuggling closer. “Definitely something. And totally us.”

He kissed the top of your head, a contented sigh escaping his lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And neither would you.

[jaeyunluvr]

Billiards and wine (p.sh)

SMUT minors dni!!!

includes :: ceo!hoon, husband!hoon, female!reader, use of nicknames, pussy licking, clit rubbing, kissing, clothed sex+pls lmk if I missed any,, not proofread !! word count :: 1k+

tagging :: @minhosimthings because again, this emerged out of our daily reel marathon <3

accompanying your husband to his solo billiards game at his office after working hours, watching him concentrate while playing, all as you have a glass of wine were your favourite activities to be done on a weekend.

today was a saturday night, the one where your ceo husband got off work early to spend his time. you sat on the couch tucked into a corner of the room, as you sipped the alcohol from the elegant Venetian glass which was custom made for both of you.

the way he was dressed in a suit, the way his slender fingers handled the cue stick made you crave for him. not to mention the amount of time you guys have spent together this week, which was barely a few hours because of his busy schedule.

he promised to spend time with you after this one game but you were getting impatient and needy. how could you not when he was standing there, right in front of you looking like an absolute meal?

so you walked towards him, as he bent backwards to reach the red ball, his waist against the table. this turned you on even more and you grabbed his hands before he could push the stick against the ball restricting his actions.

one hand on his shoulder, you pressed your lips onto his in desire as sunghoon rested his elbows on the table holding both of your weight, letting you have your way even though he got interrupted.

letting go off the kiss, he pulled you closer by your waist, letting his hands drop to your thighs as he lifted you up, spinning you around and landed you on the table. his teasing fingers run up your thighs, into your skirt.

the touch makes you shiver and the edges of the table are so cold as they pressed against your thighs.

he looked into your eyes and says "wanted my attention so bad huh?" and you don't answer. it's like you're paralyzed under his hungry gaze.

he smirks at your speechlessness and dips his head down to latch his lips onto your neck, kissing it and digging his fanged teeth into your soft skin.

whimpers leave your mouth and it drives him batshit crazy. he brings up his hand to your lips and draws his thumb against your lower lip, bringing it down to your chin and pulls you in for a kiss. the kiss wasn't sweet, it rather felt hungry and needy.

he sucks on your tongue as you let out a moan in utter pleasure. it was seriously insane how crazy he made you. he grabs your neck as his pushes his tongue deeper into your throat and you stumble back onto the table your hands not being able to support you anymore. he holds you by your waist, his tongue still working out against yours.

he pushes you down onto the table and pulls your skirt up. one thing sunghoon really liked was clothed sex. he loved how he could slide his hands into your clothing forcefully and you couldn't see the touches coming.

he dips his head down further, placing a trail of kisses against your inner thigh. he could see the wetness pooling inside your white panties making them translucent. he could see how the folds of your pussy stuck to it and it drove him crazy.

he slid his thumb up and down your clothed clit. you were already sensitive from how he looked and how he kissed you stupid and the absolute subtle touch made you jump a little bit.

you couldn't see his face but you could sense the smug expression of his. he slowly pushed your panties to the side only to be met with the sight of your pussy soaking wet for him.

he loved it when you were sensitive like this. his mouth watered at the sight and he couldn't wait to taste you.

his warm tongue licked a stripe against your pussy, from your hole to the clit, making you jolt against the green surface as a loud gasp left your mouth.

he pauses.

"you like that baby?" he sees you frantically nodding at his question but it leaves him dissatisfied.

"use your words, pretty" fucking words? You had none left. but you still choked them out.

"yes, baby I need you so bad." he smirks at you and harshly licks your clit again and again, your sensitive nerves pulsing at the contact.

your toes were curling from time to time you swore to God he was making you feel so fucking good. strings of whimpers and moans left your mouth as he started sucking on your cunt.

your breaking point was when he drove his tongue against your hole while his fingers tapped and swiped against your clit. your hands find their way into his hair as you grip onto his locks for dear life. you started squirming under his touch and he held you down with his hand.

"hoon! too much" you said between moans but he didn't have the slightest consideration for it.

he knew you liked it, he knows what you want. always.

"take it princess" he said as he continued to rub your clit. you could feel the knot in your stomach and you knew you were about to come undone in a few seconds.

"about to come princess?" he asked. you seriously had no words at this point and just nodded at him and he let you reach your climax as your body shivered frantically under his hold as a loud moan escaped past your lips.

loud panting was heard as he got off of his knees and he climbed onto the table hovering you.

he stared into your brown orbs and your fucked out state turned him on a LOT more than earlier.

he leaned in to press a kiss to your lips, the kiss being much more sweeter and full of love this time.

he got off the table and pulled you up holding your hand. he held you by the waist and led you out of the room. "let's get home baby, then maybe you'll get the fuck you wanted all along"

[anantaru]

DAY 30 — hate sex

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — wriothesley, ayato, scaramouche, alhaitham

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, hate fucking, mild choking, they're assholes, exhibitionism, fingering, lots of teasing & they're meanies

𖧡 — WRIOTHESLEY

"i don't, fuck— even know if i told you this," you whine out through a clenched jaw, your trembling frame luxuriating in the feeling of wriothesley's thick cock rubbing against your spongy spots as the spreading warmth of his body fuses inside of your own.

nevertheless, you continue your taunting— truthfully, there was nothing better other than uttering out words that you knew, would drive him absolutely crazy, "but i really fucking hate you."

amusement swiftly settles on the duke's face when he notices something happening in front of his eyes, in spite of himself, he can see it plain as day.

that your sweet, angel face, combined with those lewd sounds and your pain in the ass, as well as bratty attitude, would ultimately make him lose his mind beyond salivation— right now, his face reminded of someone who was on the brink of leaning into this, the thought of stepping your relationship up and breaking free of this, occasional hook up scene between two people clearly harboring distaste for each other.

yet, instead of melting into those hidden emotions, wriothesley then, leaves one hand to fall against the headboard before jerking his hips back into you, this time much harder and in attempt to conceal the fact that you've evidently turned him on with your attitude, fuck, he'd never get tired of hearing you.

"oh, don't worry sweetheart," wriothesley grins, your body trembling when you hear him, and as always, he senses how you shiver under his large weight, your chest rising and falling when he wraps one hand around your throat, lightly, while the other remained on the headboard to steady himself and to not suddenly suffocate you with his figure.

"the feeling is very mutual," he winks, the only thing that seemed appropriate to you personally in this situation, was to punch him, especially due to that stupid, handsome, dumb smirk on his face. (you didn't punch him)

"oh fuck you," you spat angrily before feeling how he softly draws his fingers into your throat, mesmerized when you swallow the assembled saliva down and make him sense your pulse underneath his palm, ugh, it's so hot— and you're impossibly sensitive, constantly fluttering your hole around his girth, always so cutely reactive and moaning when his cock twitches through your walls.

your mess of a body was shaking, quivering and jerking up when he teases you once more, proudly showcasing his strength on your throat while never stopping the aching drags of his erection that was making your face twist in pleasure.

𖧡 — AYATO

ayato thinks you owe him, in fact, he believes you owe him a lot more than you're currently giving him— aside from that, the most unfortunate fact was that he secretly liked having you close to him, pretending that it's a way of paying him back for whatever reason, more so share your sweet company and yes, of course, it's a bit of a predicament taking into consideration that he literally cannot stand your guts and neither can you force yourself to like his.

it's a bit embarrassing and you're barely being able to grasp on how much you you were capable to hate another person, yet the second you hear his voice, it's a horrible sound, one that you eagerly wanted to choke right out of him.

well, if only ayato wouldn't be so adapt with your body— remembering every part of you, didn't matter to him if it's been a week or a month, he remembers and targets the spots he knew had to be taken care of.

because the yashiro commissioner knows how to fuck you, please you and make you sob out uncontrollably— you have clearly had the opportunity to experience it yourself and even now, while pressed down against his work desk, with both legs tightly shut around his waist, you almost forget about all the deep-rooted hatred that was growing inside of your heart.

every dip and curve, his hand would find when he drags his cock through your walls with each whimper of his name littering across his ear shells, his sensitive tip repeatedly pushing in and out of your soaked walls that the constant pressure of penetration was making your head spin, your shaking frame twitching under him as he curves ever so wonderfully into your warm cunt.

it's too good, too delicious to pass up on when you forget all circumstances and focus on the hate induced thrusts of his pelvis rutting against yours— both minds being drunk of lust and that sensual taste of sex and euphoria lingering across the room, your pussy convulsing as his lips melt against your own, shushing all your worries.

𖧡 — SCARAMOUCHE

"look at that," scaramouche grinned down on you, excited from head to toe, his ego downright overflowing when his tip pushes and presses into your warm, pulsing spots as he stares down on where your bodies connected.

his cock was slipping in an embarrassingly easy pace that it's quite shameful now that you think back on it, well, almost— at least scaramouche knew what places to target in order to make your spine curve and quiver when he leans his weight over your body to split your cunt a little better as he bucks backward, driving the intruding force of his length deeper with one hand steady on your shoulder.

you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into a warm, passionate kiss before he sloppily groans into your mouth, his tongue lapping across your own when repeated thrusts power through the tight ring of your hole, his pelvis continuously kicking against you and forcing your spine to bend into his chest, "hah, i can barely move," he smirks, "you're too tight— embarrassing," he drawls, your walls fluttering as he leans his sweaty forehead over your own.

"seems like you missed me," scaramouche urges, hovering on top of you with a toothy smile, despite that leaning in for more, his fastened breathing close to your flustered cheeks as he grinds his cock deeper, finer and better— a small, little shade of pink manifesting across his face, everything about it was so sensual, so exposed.

without a doubt, whenever you would cross paths it would always end in the same story playing on repeat, almost like a broken record— and despite the fact that you weren't fond of him, or, scrap that, despite the fact that you hated him, a lot, you did like it, like him, kind of— most definitely when he fucks you like he hates you, because he does, but kisses you like you're in possession of the most delicious and softest lips.

or, digging a little deeper, when he, sometimes, wraps his arm around your waist when he accidentally falls asleep right beside you, hiding his fatigued face against your neck, leaning into your touch as he intertwines one hand with yours to stroke his thumb over your knuckles.

𖧡 — ALHAITHAM

it's a hard punch in your gut when alhaitham first stated that he didn't like you, nope, wasn't a fan of yours at all— and the way he phrased it infuriated you the most, it was so arrogant, detached and almost like he wanted you to know and feel bad.

it's not like you were forcing him to like you or anything, but the fact that he thought it was appropriate to tell you out of the blue while disregarding any negative emotions such confession could cause— to say it made you loathe him, detest his being with every vein in your body, was an understatement, truly.

but now, suddenly it's anomalous, like the first bite out of a warm home-made pastry you have never tried before.

then, a sudden wave of pleasure hits you, strong enough that you whimper when he first places both hands on your figure, when you find yourself pressed against a cold wall, a new sensation that was laced in thrill and excitement lusting up from deep inside, aflame and alive through your flesh like liquid fire in your veins.

your bodies were moving while concealed beneath the darkness with the scribe's hand long since stored under your panties and rubbing slow, precise circles on your clit— and the thought of doing something so sinful in the midst of the night, not to mention outside, was almost enough to turn you on entirely, drench his palm with your slick when the boiling heat inside of you changes its shape, manifesting into something exceptional.

"that— that doesn't change anything!" you argue, scowling as you lean your head against his chest, "you're still a snob."

"huh, what?" alhaitham huffs in between a relatively normal breathing, as if he didn't just fuck two fingers into your hole and was the single reason for your legs turning to jelly, wantonly destroying your stability, "i think you don't know what that word means," he mutters before rolling his eyes at you.

archons, you're so annoying, alhaitham could honestly tell you those exact words over and over again until he'd get a headache— and it fucks him up, you do, you never fail to irritate him but also make him intrigued. ugh, it fucks him up so dearly and you destroy his rational thoughts, he wanted to do nothing more other than distance himself from you if only you wouldn't be so damn addicting, and soft, or reactive when he prods one finger against your hole.

awakening at the touch, your desire for him flares anew as you buck your hips forward, driving his finger deeper, his digit spilling right into you when you greet him with a broken cry, your hips rolling and needful for more— alhaitham's eyes never averting their gaze from you, your hips searching and clinging on his body, a slight tremble reaching your spine when you hold your gaze on him, all now feeling in different way.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[zweigsons]

ride the cowboy

dodge mason x f!reader smut

summary: dodge has a really stupid rule about a hat that you'd never even seen him wear. but, it's not too big of a deal in the end

etc: nsfw, finger-fucking, unprotected piv

a/n: so like i might write a dodge x MALE reader soon bc apparently hes confirmed bi>??? and im tecnhnically a dude so like #perfect

word count: 1,993

“Why do you have a cowboy hat on your dashboard?” You asked with a snort, taking the cream colored hat off of the dash. You had asked Dodge to take you home after work, seeing as the motor in your windshield wipers had died in the middle of rain season. 

He glanced over at you briefly as he started his car. “Sometimes I need one. Just in case.” 

You giggled, “No one ever needs a cowboy hat.” You began to put it on your head before shooting him a skeptical glance, “You don’t have lice, do you?” 

He let out an offended scoff, reaching his hand over and playfully pushing your head. “No. I don’t have lice.” 

“Hmm, okay.” You placed the hat on your head. He gave you a funny look, but you dismissed it. “Does it suit me?” You asked with a giggle.

“Mhm, it does.” He chewed on his bottom lip as he drove, glancing at you every few moments. “You ever heard of the rule?”

“Shut up, what rule?” You asked, drawing your knees up to your chest. 

His smile quirked to the side and then he shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. Nevermind.” 

“No, tell me! You can’t keep getting away with being all dumb and mysterious.” 

“You think I’m mysterious?” 

“Did you hear me say dumb?”

He rolled his eyes, “I chose to ignore that.” 

“Dodge. What rule?” 

“Fine. Since you’re so insistent. Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” 

You knit your brows together, “Ride the…?” Then it clicked. You grinned, “So you wanna fuck me?” 

He sucked on his teeth, “You put the hat on. Kinda sounds like you wanna fuck me.” 

“Shut up.” Then you paused, looking at him. “I mean… I do. I have for a while.” 

He coughed, pink from his cheeks to his ears. “Yeah? I can do that.” 

“I sure hope you can,” You muttered, fiddling with the brim of the hat. It was too large for you, and it tipped down, covering your eyes. 

“So… your place?” He asked, and you noticed how his fingers tapped nervously on the steering wheel. 

You hummed, “My mom’s at work, and my siblings are at an overnight camp. So, yeah. My place.” 

You had never seen someone drive so fast yet so carefully after you said that. 

He pulled into your driveway and you started to take the cowboy hat off of your head, but he stopped you. “It makes it hotter for me if you keep it on.” 

He had that stupid lilting smirk on his face so you knew it had to be a joke, but you kept it anyway. Even if it seemed to make a point of slipping down. 

The two of you rushed inside of your worn down little house and he kissed you as soon as you closed the door. You giggled, pushing him back. “Easy, cowboy.” 

“Yeah, cowgirl?” 

You grinned, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to kiss him again, soft and slow. The brim of the hat was pushed up as the two of you stumbled over to the couch. His hands were on your waist as you were perched prettily on top of him. 

His hands sifted under your shirt, calloused fingers tracing lines into your skin. He finally knocked the hat off as he pulled your shirt off, leaning up and beginning to gently kiss your chest. He made a point of leaving marks on the soft flesh of your breasts and you found yourself giggling. “Dodge. C’mon.” 

“Mmh, c’mon? What do you want me to do?” He asked it slyly, licking your collarbone. 

You shivered, “Shut up.” 

He nibbled at your neck, “Can’t. Tell me what you want, okay?” 

You throbbed in your underwear and readjusted your position on top of him. “I want you to fuck me.” 

“We’ve established that. Tell me how.” 

You pouted, “You’re so demanding.” You had to actually think about it for a second. Most of the fantasies about him that you’ve had were centered around his rough hands and a fast pace. You started to unbutton your jeans and then reached at the hem of his shirt. He was smart enough to take the hint and tugged his shirt off. Fuck, abs. Abs and arms and his neck and, actually, everything about him. “I want you to finger me. Make me cum on your fingers and then we can see about the whole ‘ride the cowboy’ thing.” 

His eyes widened and he grinned, “Anything you want.” He saw the look on your face when he said that and added, “I’m serious.” 

“Shut up. Get to work.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He layered on a fake southern accent and it made you giggle. 

He flipped you back and pulled your pants down your waist. You wouldn’t tell him this, but being out of your work pants almost felt better than the coming pleasure. His fingers gently skirted on your underwear and you fidgeted, impatient for him to touch you where you wanted it. 

“Dodge,” You whined, wiggling your hips again. 

He smirked, “Baby. Patience.” The way he slipped into the petname made you melt. 

You were about as patient as you could be, though. “Did I ask for you to take five million fucking years?” You asked, propping yourself up on your elbows. 

He looked like he was biting back a laugh. “No,” He admitted, fingers finally breaking the waistband. His fingers traveled further down, finally sliding over your pussy. You gasped, throwing your head back. “You’re so wet,” He murmured, two of his fingers teasing your entrance. It seemed like he was going to be stubborn with it. 

“Yeah, I am, Andrew. If you don’t hurry up and make me cum, I’m going to do something, like, evil.” 

“Evil? Like what,” He chuckled, his middle finger finally starting to poke into you. 

You groaned, his finger stretching you out more than your own ever could. “Like… cut your dick off… or something,” You found it hard to focus on what you were saying when his ring finger was joining the other inside of you and, God, it was better than anything you could’ve imagined. 

“That’s dark,” He pointed out, thick fingers sliding all the way inside of you. 

You let out a small squeak when he curled his fingers up and he grinned upon your reaction. “Good?” He asked softly.

You sighed, “Good. Would be better if you moved more, though.” 

“Bossy,” He muttered, even as he complied with your request. His fingers, curled up at that angle, began to move in and out of you. You gasped, hands flying up to dig your nails into his neck. 

The pace of his hand sped up and he leaned in, kissing your neck as he fucked you on his fingers. He changed the angle slightly and his thumb rubbed at your clit as he still managed to thrust his fingers. 

“Nnh, Dodge,” You whined, locking your legs around his. 

“Use your words,” He said, beginning to suck another hickey onto your chest. 

“Fuck you,” You panted out. Then, “I’m gonna cum.” 

You felt him grin against you, “Go ahead, honey.” His voice was so sweet and he curled his fingers again, at just the right angle, and you were coming undone. 

You panted shakily as he took his fingers out of you. Still coming down from your orgasm, you watched him lick his fingers clean. Your cunt throbbed at the sight and you thought about it–riding him. 

You pushed him back and told him, “Take your dick out.” 

He laughed, taking two of your fingers into his mouth and nibbling on them for a moment, “Did your mama not teach you manners?” 

“Nope,” You replied, fiddling with his belt buckle. 

“Lemme do it for you.” 

He unbuckled his belt and then undid his pants. You lifted your hips and wet your lips as he slid his pants down his legs. Another part of his body that was perfectly toned–you thought about grinding on his thighs briefly. Though, your attention was mainly focused on his cock. The erection tenting his boxers was one that made your mouth water a little. You thought of him filling you up and it made you twinge with want. 

You rested on his thighs and you smoothed your hands down his torso, stopping at the waistband of his boxers. You cheekily hooked a finger into the waistband, pulling it back and letting go, giggling as it snapped against his skin. “You’re such a little tease,” He said with a grin. 

“I try my hardest,” You said, tugging at the garment again. This time, he shifted his hips up and let you pull them off of him. 

You trailed a finger up the base of his cock and he whined. A whine is not a noise you’d attribute to Andrew Dodge Mason, yet here you were. You chuckled, wobbling up on your knees to position yourself over his cock. 

Your hands wrapped around his member as you lowered yourself down, and he watched you with bated breath. 

You shuddered as the head of his cock breached your hole. “Good girl, jus’ like that,” He mumbled, thumb rubbing over your hipbone. 

You practically purred at the praise as you continued to lower yourself onto him. He helped you, too. Strong hands pushing you down and it felt so fucking good. He had a bigger dick than anyone in this shit-town you had ever been with, and it was fucking clear he knew what he was doing with it. 

You were down to the hilt and you let out a short sigh. “Good job, pretty girl. You gonna make me feel good?” He asked, bringing his hand up to tilt your chin down. 

“Mm-hm,” You replied, leaning in and kissing him. 

You started to slowly grind your hips on him and he groaned into your mouth. You lifted your hips carefully and dropped them back down, pleasure wracking through your body as you did. 

“So good for me,” He mumbled against you, nipping your bottom lip. 

All you could manage was a soft keen as you continued to lift and drop your hips. Dodge started to move, too, thrusting his hips up to meet yours when you put yours back down. It created a perfect feeling of pleasure and you slumped over him, biting into his neck as you moved. 

It didn’t take long with this languid push and pull for you to feel close to release again, so you tapped him on the shoulder. That was all he needed, too. “Are you gonna cum?” He asked when you tapped him, nibbling your ear. 

“Nnh, yes,” You whined, fingernails leaving crescents in his back. 

“Okay, baby, okay. ‘M almost there,” He murmured, kissing your cheek before picking up the pace of his own thrusts. 

You let out something that was half-yelp and half-moan and you let him take control of fucking you. 

Your moans grew more frequent and almost panicked as you neared your second orgasm. Then, as he realized how close you were, he told you, “You can cum.” 

You hadn’t even noticed you were waiting for his permission until you were tightening up and letting your release wash over you. 

As soon as you came, he pulled out of you and with a few more strokes with his hand, his cum splattered onto your belly. 

You laughed and then kissed him again, slowly pushing him down and laying on his chest. “We should probably clean up before my mom gets home,” You told him as he placed a kiss into your hair. 

“Mm, probably.” He had no intention of moving. You knew that your mom wouldn’t be home for at least another two hours, so you saw no problem with it. You nipped at his collarbone and let the soft rise and fall of his chest lull you into something soothing. 

[theostrophywife]

little dove.

pairing: tom riddle x reader.

song inspiration: if u think i'm pretty by artemas.

author's note: can't believe this is my first tom fic, but please know that this man awakens the feral, unhinged side of me. let me slytherin to your chamber of secrets and ride that basilisk tommy 😏

This was a stupid, idiotic, and terrible idea. 

Unfortunately for you, those were the conditions in which Harry and Ron worked best under. In your defense, you tried to talk them out of the prank, but the boys were determined to leave their mark. You suppose you could’ve told Hermione, but you didn’t want to interrupt her date with Draco. When it came to talking sense into their thick skulls, you were completely and utterly alone. 

After much argument, you finally accepted that you weren’t going to get anywhere with Harry and Ron. The only thing you could do was supervise their reckless pursuits and minimize the damage as much as possible. So here you were, sneaking into the dungeons under the cover of darkness. 

“This will be the best seventh year prank yet,” Ron whispered as he trailed close behind. “Fred and George are going to be so jealous.” 

“If we don’t die from the cold first,” Harry quipped sarcastically, slightly shivering underneath the invisibility cloak draped over the three of you. “The Slytherins really take the whole cold-blooded thing quite literally, don’t they?” 

You huffed in response, trying your best to muffle your steps. “Can we please focus on not getting caught? We need to be in and out of the dungeons before the prefects start their patrols.” 

The boys nodded as you inched further into the serpent’s nest. Luckily, the corridor that housed Professor Snape’s office was empty. You held your breath as you began to unravel the wards protecting the entrance. You had to give it to him, Snape was incredibly thorough when it came to his security measures. Good thing you were an expert on unlocking charms. 

With a final flick of your wand, the door gave way and creaked open. Ron and Harry wore matching grins as the three of you spilled into the office. Closing the door behind you, Harry’s green eyes crinkled with mischief. 

“Let’s get started.” 

Surprisingly, Harry and Ron’s half-arsed plan was actually coming together. The three of you worked in silence, the boys handing you paints and supplies at the snap of your fingers. After a few more strokes, you flicked your paintbrush over the wall and cocked your head to examine your work. Nearly every single surface of Professor Snape’s office was covered in your illustrations—technically vandalism according to wizarding law. 

The drawings, imbued with the same magic that powered the moving portraits, depicted caricatures of Professor Snape, all of which scurried like rats along the walls, hurtling globs of paint at one another. The head of Slytherin house was going to have a fit when he saw what you’d done to his office. You almost wished you could be there in the morning to witness the look on Snape’s face when he uncovered your masterpiece.

“Bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he packed up the paints and brushes. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Y/N.” 

Harry chuckled and nudged your shoulder. “See? You do have a taste for trouble, after all.” 

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Now help me clean up so we can go.” 

As you carefully wiped the office of any trace of the three of you, Harry suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. You looked up, ready to scold him for idling, but fell silent when you saw the panicked expression on his face. 

“What is it?” you asked quietly. 

Harry held up his hand and slowly opened the door, peeking out into the darkness. A muffled clicking that sounded an awful lot like footsteps echoed from the corridor. “Do you hear that?” 

Ron cursed lowly. “The prefects must’ve started their rounds early.” 

You peered over Harry’s shoulder and felt the color drain from your face. “It’s not the prefects,” you said, swallowing thickly. “It’s the Head Boy.” 

Both the boys swore under their breaths. You steeled yourself, knowing that panic was not going to get you anywhere. As quietly as possible, you retrieved Harry’s cloak and beckoned the boys underneath it. 

“We’re so fucked,” Ron mumbled. 

“No, we’re not,” you chided sternly. “Get under the cloak and don’t make a sound.” 

Harry scooted in beside you, clutching the invisible fabric over his shoulders. “Do you have a plan?” 

You nodded. “Run like hell and don’t get caught.” 

“That’s a bloody terrible plan!” said Ron. 

With a glare, you tugged the redhead underneath the cloak. “Then please, let us hear your brilliant idea, Ronald.” Ron stayed quiet, his freckled face etched with fear. “That’s what I thought. Now stay close and for Merlin’s sake, try not to stomp around like a damned erumpent.”

Stupid. 

Idiotic. 

Terrible. 

Every ounce of apprehension you felt earlier that night came rushing back as the three of you cowered in the darkness. It was pitch-black in the corridor, but you didn’t dare cast lumos for fear of getting caught. Thankfully, a small light up ahead provided you with a vague sense of direction. You remembered passing the lit emerald sconce on the way down. All you had to do was get back to the entrance without running into the head boy. 

The glimmer of hope became clearer and clearer as you neared the stairs that would lead you out of the dungeons. You were so close. Barely a few metres away from freedom. 

Just as you thought you were safe, Ron knocked into a table, sending one of the snake sculptures guarding the alcove to the common room tumbling. The marble cracked against the concrete, breaking into a million pieces just like your hope of escaping. 

“Run!” you huffed, urging the boys to go on. 

A solid plan if you hadn’t been nearly blind in the dark. You could hear the shuffling of footsteps beside you. Three sets belonging to you, Harry, and Ron, while an unknown fourth inched closer and closer. Whoever it was wasn’t running, but they were definitely in pursuit. 

You stumbled through the dark, nearly tripping over your own feet. From up ahead, you could hear Harry and Ron urging you on. As you broke into a sprint, paints and brushes came spilling out of your satchel. Under any other circumstance, you would’ve abandoned your art supplies, but leaving them behind would fully incriminate the three of you. In the time it took to pick up the damning evidence, you stopped hearing your friend’s voices. 

It would’ve worried you, but in all honesty, you were relieved. If you could no longer hear the boys, then that meant they made it safely out of the serpent’s nest. A feat in itself given their track record. Those two couldn’t be inconspicuous if they tried. Without the need to worry for them, you were confident that you’d be able to slip out undetected. 

In hindsight, you were perhaps a tad bit overconfident. You were great at sneaking around, but apparently not good enough to slip the head boy’s notice. As soon as you started to creep past the dormitories, you ran into a wall that hadn’t been there before. 

Except it wasn’t a wall. 

It was a strong, firm chest. A chest that belonged to none other than Tom Riddle. 

Leave it to your terrible luck to run straight into the arms of the scariest boy in the castle. 

Determined not to cower, you lifted your chin defiantly and faced Tom head on. “Head Boy,” you greeted in acknowledgment. 

Emerald eyes unflinchingly surveyed you, that intense green stare sweeping from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. Beneath the faint glow of the Black Lake pouring in through the stained glass windows, you could’ve easily mistaken Tom Riddle for an angel. He looked like an illustration straight out of the Sistine Chapel. Beautiful, intricate, perfect. 

Yet utterly terrifying. 

Danger prickled at your skin as Tom’s lips curved into a sinister smirk. “My, my, what do we have here? A little dove out of her cage.” 

You bristled as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his voice a seductive caress. It was low, husky, and a little rough around the edges. Just like its speaker. Tom plucked a paintbrush out of your satchel and examined it between his fingers. “I saw what you did to Snape’s office. Quite artistic, aren’t you?” 

A part of you considered denying it, but it would’ve been a futile attempt. There was paint splattered all over your skirt and flecks of it were already drying on your skin. Tom had quite literally caught you red handed. The only thing you could do was to own up to it and face whatever consequences came as a result of your foolish actions. 

“Are you going to turn me in to the headmaster?” 

Tom shook his head, his brown wavy hair falling over one eye. “Not until I catch your two helpers.” 

Panic seized your body. It may be too late for you, but Tom hadn’t seen either Harry or Ron. There was a chance they could come out of this unscathed. 

“I was alone,” you declared with your chin held high. “There was no one else with me.” 

Anger contorted Tom’s handsome features. Those emerald eyes lit up in flames as he backed you into a wall, bracketing each side of your head with his arms as he leaned down. You tried not to cower under the intensity of his stare, but gods was it hard. Tom towered a good foot over you and as if that weren’t intimidating enough, he also blocked every possibility of escape with his body. 

“Don’t lie to me, little dove,” Tom growled, tilting your chin up with one hand. “I heard three sets of footsteps running through the corridor.” 

You swallowed thickly, praying to Merlin to grant you the ability to flawlessly lie your arse off. “I swear, it was just me. No one else. I did it all by myself.” 

Tom hummed as if unconvinced. “Well, you’re certainly on your own now. Your idiotic friends left you down in the dungeons all alone. Don’t you know that dangerous things lurk in the dark around here, Y/N?” 

“Like I said, I was alone.” 

“So it appears,” Tom said, flashing you a smile that told you he was the most dangerous thing lurking in the dungeons. “Poor little dove wandering the serpent’s nest all on her own. Hasn’t anyone told you that us Slytherins have teeth?” 

“Why?” In an idiotic surge of courage, the words slipped out of your mouth before you could pull them back in. “Do you plan on biting me, Tom?” 

Tom grabbed your jaw roughly, making you whimper in surprise. “Insolent girl. You’ll learn your lesson soon enough.” 

Without warning, he grabbed you by the elbow and started dragging you down the corridor. At first, you were certain that Tom was taking you to Dumbledore’s office, but as the minutes ticked by, you realized that you were going in the opposite direction. If anything, he was leading you right into the heart of the dungeons. 

Tom’s grip tightened to the point of pain as he guided you up a set of twin staircases, practically flying up the steps on the right side, which you assumed led to the dormitories. It had a similar layout to the Gryffindor common room, except instead of leading into the towers, the narrow hallway opened into an intricate maze in the lower levels of the castle. 

Nestled into the underbelly of Hogwarts was a large, dark room that was surrounded by more stained glass walls that looked out into the Black Lake. A school of fish swam by as Tom ushered you through the door, which he promptly locked behind him with a series of complicated spells you had no hope of deciphering. 

You were trapped. Alone in a room. With Tom Riddle.

Upon closer inspection, you surmised that this had to be his private suite. It was twice as large as your dorm back in the towers and extremely private. A luxury that only the Head Boy and Head Girl enjoyed. 

“You’ve been very bad, little dove,” Tom reprimanded. "You deserve to be punished, but I’ll tell you what. Give up the names of your accomplices and I might find it in my heart to go easy on you.” 

His drawling voice echoed in the bedroom as he leaned back against his desk, twirling his wand between his fingers. The look he leveled at you is enough to awaken your fear. Plus another emotion that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. 

Merlin, Tom was sizing you up like he was the lion and you were the helpless deer frolicking through the meadow. You steeled yourself and doubled down on your lies. 

“There was no one else, Tom.” 

He smirked as though you’d given him the answer he’d hoped to hear. Tom stopped twirling his wand, tucking it away in his back pocket as he stalked over to you. “Very well, then. I suppose you’ll just have to endure their punishments too.” 

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. It occurred to you that while you had your wand, you were completely and utterly defenseless against Tom. It should’ve scared you shitless, but instead you felt a strange sort of thrill as he came closer. “What…what sort of punishment?” 

A smirk curved at his lips as he fisted your hair between his fingers and tilted your head back to meet his gaze. “I think you know, babydoll.” 

Heat ignited in your veins as your tongue darted out to sweep across your bottom lip. “This is crazy,” you whispered. “Shouldn’t you be telling Dumbledore? Snape? Someone in charge?” 

“I’m the one in charge,” Tom growled as he shoved you against his bookshelf. Your back hit solid wood, disturbing the neatly organized tomes behind you. “You snuck into my dungeons, under my watch, and defaced my home. I will dole out your punishment as I see fit.” 

“And if I refuse?” You asked, hoping that you emulated the bravery that your house was infamous for.

Tom pressed his body against yours, leaving barely a hairsbreadth between you as he flashed you a feral smile. “It’s laughable that you still think you have a choice.” 

“I could scream bloody murder. Wake the entire castle up and alert everyone that you're holding a fellow student against her will."

“You could,” Tom mused as amusement flickered in his eyes. “But we both know you won’t.” 

“What makes you so sure?” 

“You’d never risk such a scandalous act to go on your record. First vandalizing Professor Snape’s office, then sneaking into the Head Boy’s dorm after curfew? You’re on a downward spiral, aren’t you, little dove?” 

“I didn’t sneak into your dorm. You dragged me in here.” 

“Please,” Tom said with a scoff. “Let’s not pretend that you don’t want to be here. I’ve been watching you, you know. The perfect little Gryffindor good girl. You think you have everyone fooled, but not me.” You groaned as he pinned your hips in place, sliding his thigh between your legs. 

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me in class? Bending over in that tiny little skirt of yours hoping I’ll glance your way? Leaving the buttons to your blouse undone so you can give me a view of that lacy red bra? Biting your lip when you’re thinking dirty thoughts about me in class?” 

You flushed at his spot on assessment. Tom might be right on the mark, but you weren’t about to admit that to him. Not when your pride was on the line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Dirty little liar.” Tom whispered against the shell of your ear. “You know, your mental shields are impressive, but it’s like you can’t help yourself when I’m around. You’re practically broadcasting your filthy fantasies every time we’re in the same room.” 

Fuck. 

This was bad. 

This was really fucking bad.

How many times had you sat in class staring at Tom while thinking the filthiest, dirtiest thoughts about him? Tom bending you over a desk. Tom slipping his fingers under your skirt. Tom making you scream with his head between your thighs.

All this time, he had complete access to those dirty daydreams.

“That’s right, doll. You may be a powerful occlumens, but you’re no match for my legilimency.” He chuckled darkly, caressing your jaw. 

A heavy pressure weighed down the constraints of your defenses as Tom poked around in your mind, teasing and taunting as a lover would. The act of him prodding around in your subconscious was oddly sensual, mixing pain and pleasure together as he waited for you to yield. 

There’s no use hiding now, Tom whispered into your subconscious. I’ve already seen inside your mind, doll. And your thoughts are just as fucking filthy as mine. 

Glimpses of your deepest, darkest fantasies flashed through your mind. The images were a never ending rolodex of filth and smut. Tom fucking you like his perfect little slut. Tom panting above you as he spread your legs. Tom working you with his fingers until you were a sobbing, whimpering mess. 

He was right. You were shameless. 

But so was he. A new image of you on your knees while Tom unbuckled his belt, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as you stared up expectantly took center stage. Since it was from his point of view, you could only assume that he was showing you one of his fantasies. It was oddly satisfying. Tom was basking in the depravity with you, sharing his equally fucked up thoughts. 

“Tom…” you breathed, leaning into his touch as he continued to pin you against the wooden bookshelf. 

“Not Tom,” he grunted gruffly. “You’ll address me properly from now on, little dove.” 

This was so fucked up and yet so hot at the same time. You were so turned on you could hardly speak. “Yes, sir.” 

“That’s better, doll.” Tom declared with a smirk. “Now that I’ve been inside of your head, I plan on being inside you in every other way as well. Starting with that pretty little mouth of yours. On your knees, little dove.” 

A strange sense of deja vu washed over you as you knelt onto the floor. The concrete nipped at your knees, but you welcomed the pain. It kept you centered as your body buzzed with anticipation. You watched as Tom unbuckled his belt, deft fingers slowly sliding his boxers down as he gripped himself with one hand. 

With a smirk, Tom brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, looking down at you with lust blown eyes. “Open wide, babydoll.” 

Tom pumped himself slowly. The sight of his cock made your mouth water, your head spinning and dizzy with desire as you tried to calculate how you were going to take all of him. The tip of his cock glistened with precum as he rubbed over it. Tom was thick, long, and absolutely delicious. You groaned as he rubbed his head over your lips, the salty taste of his arousal resting on your tongue. 

“I won’t ask again,” Tom warned. “Be a good girl and open your mouth. I’ll make you regret it if you don’t.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

A satisfied smile graced his handsome face before he shoved his way in. Your lips parted for him, opening your mouth wider as you accommodated his size. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

You nodded obediently, eyes filling with tears as you took Tom all the way back. He fisted your hair in one hand and rocked against your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. A garbled sound crawled out of your chest, but it was soon silenced with Tom’s impatient thrusts. 

“Fuck,” Tom cursed. “So wet and warm. Such a perfect little throat. What a pity that I’m about to ruin it.” 

Ruin was an understatement. Tom fucked your throat with precise thrusts, angling deeper and deeper and groaning as you gagged on his cock. He was so deep that you could feel him bruising your tonsils. The more he abused your throat, the wetter your pussy got. You were practically soaked as you moaned on his cock, sucking your cheeks in and bobbing your head up and down to take more of him. 

“Such pretty noises,” Tom said, his fingers curling through your hair to the point of pain. He tugged at your scalp, forcing you to meet his eyes as you sucked him off. “If your mouth feels this good around my cock, then I can’t even imagine what your cunt will feel like.” 

You groaned in pleasure, making Tom’s eye roll back from the vibrations. Controlled, compulsive, and perfectly composed Tom Riddle was fading before you, replaced by a man driven only by his base desires. He was an animal lost to lust and so were you. 

Tom squeezed your throat, groaning when he felt himself moving beneath his grip. “Your throat was made to be fucked, doll. You like that, don’t you? You love it when I’m rough.” 

You struggled to nod in acknowledgement, saliva sloppily collecting in the corner of your mouth as you continued to let him use you for his own pleasure. Tom chuckled at your pathetic attempt to respond. “Don’t bother answering, little dove. You won’t be able to speak when I’m done with you anyways.” 

The filth flowing effortlessly from his mouth made you clench your thighs together. Tom threw his head back, those pretty curls tousled and plastered against his sweat soaked skin. A moan tore through his chest as he got closer and closer, fucking into your mouth with reckless abandon. He chased after his orgasm, shuddering as he spurted hot ribbons down your throat. 

“Fuck. You see what you do to me? Swallow, doll. Every single fucking drop.” 

The fantasies that you’ve been harboring for the past few years finally came to fruition, but none of it came close to reality. Tom was a fucking god. A masterpiece coming undone above you. You’ve never seen such a beautiful sight. All the artwork in the world would’ve paled in comparison to witnessing Tom Riddle at his most vulnerable. 

In awe and wonder, you looked up at him with mascara streaked eyes, tears and saliva staining your face. Tom hauled you to your feet and claimed you with his mouth. The taste of him was still on your lips, but Tom didn’t seem to mind as he parted your lips with his tongue. The kiss was neither sweet nor innocent. It was dark and dangerous and there was an edge of possessiveness in the way he demanded your submission. Almost like he was marking his territory. 

Tongues, teeth, and lips met with a clash as Tom carried you over to his desk. His books and journals clattered to the ground as his teeth grazed the column of your throat. The taste of him was intoxicating and you licked, sucked, and nipped at every inch of skin he allowed access to. You gasped into his mouth as Tom parted your legs, not bothering to warn you as he palmed your soaked panties. 

Your core clenched as he slipped a finger inside of your pussy. A squelching sound filled the room as Tom added another digit, pumping you full and fucking you with his middle and pointer fingers as you begged for more. He knew exactly what he was doing. Tom studied you like one of his books, with meticulous precision and alarming intensity, pouring all of his efforts and attention into making your body sing. 

It wasn’t long before that familiar warmth singed your veins, your moans growing louder and more desperate as you clawed at Tom’s back. You were so, so close. You were practically riding his hand as he brought you closer to the precipice. Just when you were about to come, Tom pulled away and denied you the orgasm. 

“Don’t be mistaken, doll. This is still a punishment.” Tom said as you whined from the loss. He silenced your complaints by bending you over his desk. 

“Tom, please—“ You clawed at the wood as he lined up and filled you with one sharp thrust. “Oh my fucking gods.” 

Tom gripped your hips, the slap of his skin against yours echoing in the room as he fucked you from behind. He was relentless, thrusting in and out and arching your back while he railed the absolute life out of you. It wasn’t long before you were getting close again. The sharp angles of his thrusts had him hitting all the right spots, making your knees weak and your pussy sensitive from the roughness of his actions. Sensing that you were close, he rutted into you, letting that tension uncoil before ripping the orgasm away from you once more. You whined, fresh tears soaking your cheeks as you chased after that high. 

“Like I said, this is still a punishment,” Tom taunted, slowing his thrusts to a snail’s pace. “That’s two orgasms I’ve taken from you, which leaves you with two more. Four for every wall you defaced. It should be twelve, given that you had help, but I’m in a forgiving mood. I think I’ll just spank the other eight out of you instead.” 

With your head bowed, you wiped the tears off of your cheeks and braced yourself. You knew that he was telling the truth. To Tom, this was mercy. You should’ve found it sadistic, but you fucking loved it. Maybe you were a masochist. Whatever the case may be, it seemed like the two of you were a match made in heaven. 

“I’ll be good,” you whispered hoarsely. Your throat was still raw and sore from earlier. “I’ll happily take the punishment. I promise I’ll be good, sir.” 

Tom chuckled darkly, relishing in your submission. His hand came down with a hard smack against your right ass cheek, making you jolt from the contact. Before you could recover, he repeated the action on the left. 

“That’s two,” Tom said proudly. “Can you count out the rest, babydoll?” 

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip every time his large hand came down on your ass. His rings bit into the soft flesh of your skin, but it was a delicious sort of pain. One that you could easily become addicted to. 

Three. Tom tugged at your hair. 

Four. Teeth nipped at your shoulder. 

Five. Fingers curled around your throat. 

Six. Hips slammed against you. 

Seven. Lips trailed down your spine.

Eight. Moans echoed in your ears. 

When Tom slipped his fingers down to your clit, your eyes rolled back so hard that you saw fucking heaven. “It’s not a punishment if you’re enjoying yourself so much, little dove. I can feel you creaming my cock. You look so innocent, but you’re just a filthy fucking slut for me, aren’t you?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“So. Fucking. Perfect.” 

Tom emphasized each word with a thrust and worked your clit faster and faster, bringing you to the edge. This time, he didn’t pull back. Tom let the orgasm build until it threatened to wipe you out entirely. White hot heat coursed through your veins as stars exploded behind your eyes. You whimpered through the intensity of the orgasm. After being denied four times, the pleasure ripped through your body so fiercely that you nearly blacked out. 

“Fuck, let me fill you up,” Tom growled. “Take it, doll. I want you dripping with my cum.” 

“Yes, yes, oh gods. Please cum inside of me, sir.” 

Tom released a guttural grunt, gripping your hips in place as he filled you to the brim. Nothing in the world compared to the sensation of Tom filling you with his warm, wet cum. You glanced behind you and found him staring intently as he slipped out of you, stuffing his cum back into your pussy as it dripped down your folds. You bit your lip, utterly aroused by how fucking sexy this man was. 

His gaze met yours, a proud smile curving against his lips as he swept you off your feet and into his arms. “I think I’ll keep you, little dove.” 

[moamidzyism]

house warming (k.mg)

☆。.:*·ﾟwc 756 smut ౨ৎ men DNI ˚⁺。˚ ୨୧ mingyu x fem!reader, established relationship, cockwarming [masterlist • reblogs + feedback appreciated]

you really should have planned better.

it was like everything that could possibly go wrong did. you imagined that by now you would be wrapped up in a large, cozy comforter nestled on your cloud soft king size bed in your already furnished new house. but the movers got the wrong date down, so now your house was bare save for the mess of cardboard boxes in every room and the lumpy air mattress in the middle of your lonely bedroom.

the room lacked the warmth you had hoped for, and the chilly air seeped through the gaps. and to make matters worse, you found out that your heater was broken, in the dead of winter. 

it was too much to manage in one night, so you decided to unpack your closet and go to sleep. everything else was tomorrow’s problem.

but in the middle of the night, you stir awake, a kink in your neck reminding you of your less than ideal sleeping arrangement. you turn to the man lying beside you, who is restlessly moving around.

“what are you doing?” you groggily snap at him.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbles. “”i’m just really cold.”

“there are extra blankets in the closet, i think.” you suggest, rolling over, trying to lull yourself back to sleep.

“i wanna feel you, baby.” he whispers, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. you roll away from him, more focused on checking your phone, causing him to emit a low groan.

“no, baby, come back here.” he pleads, drawing out the last syllable of his sentence.

“mingyu, it’s two in the morning.” you retort, the harsh blue glow of your phone illuminating the room’s bare bones.

“i’m so cold,” he whines again, pulling the comforter over the two of you.

“baby, check in the closet for extra blankets.”

“but you’re so warm here,” he pulls you closer to him. he snuggles into your neck, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“god, we need to call a repair person to fix that stupid heater,” you groan when you think about everything that you need to do.

“we can do that in the morning,” he says, as he traces kisses along your jawline to your neck. “but in the meantime, we can keep each other warm.”

“mingyu, babe, i’m so tired, and the movers are coming at ten and we still have so much to do.”

“baby, baby,” he shushes you, wrapping you in his arms. “just relax.”

“i’m trying to go back to sleep.”

“please,” mingyu begs. “baby, it’s cold outside. i just want to feel your warmth.” you feel a shiver down your spine when he begins to nibble on your ear. “you don’t have to do anything, i just wanna be inside you.”

he slides your sweatpants down. slowly guiding his cock to your entrance, he rubs it up and down your slit. his tip pokes around your entrance and you push your hips back, encouraging him to enter into your tight cunt. his hands grip your hips tightly, his face screwing up in pleasure as he slowly pushes. you suck your breath as he bottoms out. “sorry,” he mumbles.

“it’s fine,” you sigh, melting into his embrace. mingyu, still mumbling sorries, moves around until he finally feels comfortable. when he does, his head returns to the nook of your neck. the two of you lie with your figures entwined, your limbs interwoven in an affectionate dance. your head rests against his chest, his heartbeat beneath you serving as a lullaby. his cold hands slide underneath your sweatshirt, and you clench around him.

“fuck,” he groans lowly and now it’s your turn to profusely apologize. “it’s fine, honey, just give me a moment to calm down.” you give him a moment before you place your hands on top of his arms where they rested at your waist. this was supposed to be an innocent moment – as innocent as it could be. it was supposed to be an opportunity to feel close to each other, but, as you’d expect with your boyfriend, innocence seemed to take a backseat to a different kind of intimacy.

slowly he rocks his hips against yours, prompting a soft moan to escape from your lips. “gyu,” you warn him slightly, but he ignores you, his hands slipping down to your hips to pull you closer to him. “what happened to “i just want to feel you”?”

“m sorry,” he moans out, “you know i can’t help it. you just feel so good.”

taglist: @dearlyjun

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[maysileeewrites]

it looks better on you || Coriolanus Snow

18+ content; mdni!

summary: Coriolanus is obsessed with you wearing his clothes | based off of this concept post

my Coryo masterlist

Coriolanus Snow is positively obsessed with you wearing his clothes.

Whenever he sees you in one of his shirts or sweaters, it’s like he can’t think straight anymore, every single thought wiped from his head - except one: you’re absolutely mesmerizing, somehow even more beautiful and enchanting, wearing his clothes. 

You’re his - and you wearing his clothes is just one more way for him to mark you as his, to show everyone that you belong to him, and only him. 

No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to fuck you. No one else gets to fall asleep next to you, wake up next to you. No one else gets to feel the immense, overwhelming satisfaction that always overcomes him when you’re wearing his clothes. 

No one else - just him. 

As it should be, Coriolanus thinks, smirking as he watches you poring over your University books at your desk from his position on your bed. Initially, he came over to your apartment so that you could study for your test next week together. Though he hasn’t really gotten a lot of actual studying done.

You’re just too damn distracting. 

You always are, but especially now - wearing his shirt and playing with the hem of it while you’re trying to memorize the text you’re currently reading, your other hand absentmindedly running through your hair, your lips silently moving - it’s like he can’t think straight. 

His eyes are fixed on you, following your every move. 

The way you screw your eyes shut as you sigh frustratedly - probably trying to remember a particularly difficult aspect of your textbook article. The way your fingers keep playing with the hem of his shirt. 

Really, he thinks, watching you sigh in frustration and slamming your textbook shot, throwing it a dirty look, his clothes look so good on you - almost better than they do on him. 

„Something wrong, love?“, he asks you, getting up from your bed and walking over to your desk, where you’re still sitting in your desk chair, head in your hands. 

You shake your head, sighing again. „No, it’s just this stupid biochemistry test … I just can’t get the hang of this stuff, which means that I’ll fail that test next week, which will bring my overall grade down and-“

„Hey“, Coriolanus interrupts your nervous ramblings, stepping closer to you and taking your hands in his, gently pulling them away from your face. He squeezes your hands, before bringing up one hand and gently brushing his knuckles over your cheek. 

You sigh, closing your eyes and leaning into his comforting touch. 

„I know that this is all a bit overwhelming right now, but you won’t fail that test, you hear me? You won’t - I’ll make sure of that. Even if it means that we have to spend every minute this weekend studying.“ 

„But, Coryo-“, you try to say, but he shakes his head, his eyes finding yours. 

„You won’t fail, trust me“, he says, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your hairline. „We’ll continue studying for this, I promise, but right now, you need a break.“ His gentle, yet firm voice tells you that he won’t take an objection for an answer. 

You sigh, even though you know your boyfriend only has your best interests at heart. He can be so stubborn sometimes …

„A distraction …“, he continues, something in his voice changing that causes you to shiver involuntarily as he leans down, stepping between your legs, looking at you with a teasing smirk on his face. 

„What do you-“ 

Your words are swallowed by his hungry, wild kiss. 

You make a surprised noise, wrapping your arms around Coriolanus’s neck out of pure instinct as his hands settle on your waist, drawing you closer to him as he keeps kissing you, his tongue coaxing your mouth open. You can’t help but moan as you feel his tongue moving against yours. 

Then, suddenly, he’s picking you up from your chair and you wrap your legs around his waist out of instinct as he carries you over to your bed, not once breaking the kiss. Your back hits your soft mattress and Coriolanus swallows the surprised noise you make with his hungry, desperate kisses. 

He breaks the kiss then, looking down at you with a teasing smirk on his lips, before lowering his head to the crook of your neck, sucking at the soft, sensitive skin. His lips curl into a possessive smirk when he hears the mewling, panting noises you make. 

He knows that he’ll leave bruises on your skin - pretty, purple marks that will mark you as his, showing everyone who you belong to. 

„Coryo!“, you gasp, trying to make sense of the world, tangling your hands in his blonde curls and trying to ground yourself, as he continues to relentlessly suck at your soft skin, all the while grinding his hips into yours, creating a delicious, nerve-wrecking tension. 

His lips leave a trail on your skin, from the soft, sensitive skin of your neck, to your collarbone and then lower and lower, until the hem of his shirt you’re wearing gets in the way. 

Breathlessly, your hands leave his hair and you reach down, trying to free yourself from the bothersome garment, but then suddenly, Coryo’s hands are there as well, stoping your motions. 

„No, keep it on“, Coriolanus says, reaching out with his hands to tug the dark grey shirt you’re currently wearing - one of his that you’ve ‚borrowed‘ - back down. His voice is low, his eyes are dark, the expression in them sinful and challenging - a promise. (A threat.) 

„It looks better on you anyways.“ 

You swallow upon hearing the arrogant possessiveness in his voice and clench your thighs together. 

When he notices, Coriolanus just smirks at you. 

You whine, reaching for his hands. „Please, Coryo“, you beg, your eyes finding his. You can’t have him teasing you - not right now, not when he’s already got you this worked up. 

„Please what?“, he asks, still smirking. 

„Please, just - touch me; just do something, Coryo, please.“ 

When he still doesn’t react to your pleas, just keeps smirking at you, you reach out with one of your hands, brushing over the bulge in his pants, before growing bolder and cupping his already hardened length through the material of his trousers. 

Coriolanus closes his eyes then, a low moan escaping his lips. 

„Fuck.“ 

His voice is something between a groan and a whimper as you keep stroking him through the fabric. 

For a split second you toy with the thought of doing the same thing to him he did to you - teasing him, edging him on, only to cruelly withdraw your touch at the last second. But he looks so good right now, his head thrown back, his eyes screwed shut, his lips slightly open, soft whimpers escaping him, you can’t bring yourself to do so. 

You don’t need to - because the next thing you know, Coriolanus is impatiently swatting your hand away, getting rid of his trousers and briefs in mere seconds, before placing his hands on your waist, shifting you, until you’re straddling his lap, your legs on either side of him, your core brushing against his erection. 

You can’t help the loud moan that escapes you then - the friction feels so good and you just want to feel him inside you already. 

„Coryo-“, you start to say, but his hand is already there at your core, roughly yanking at the thin material of your panties. You hear the material tear and you gasp loudly, when, without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them inside you, immediately finding your sweet spot. 

„Y-you really o-owe me a v-visit to the clothing store“, you pant, trying to form a cohesive sentence as Coriolanus continues to pump his fingers in and out of you at a merciless pace, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust of his fingers. 

Coriolanus just smirks, groaning when he feels your walls clenching around his fingers. „Fuck, not yet“, he pants, removing his hand and causing you to whimper at the sudden feeling of emptiness. „Need to feel you, need to be inside you.“ 

All you can manage is a nod, moaning when he positions you in his lap. You try once again to take of the shirt you’re still wearing, but Coriolanus swats your hands away once again. 

„Keep it on“, he says, his voice low and dangerous. 

All you can manage is a weak nod, because then his grip on your waist is tightening, shifting you forward even more until you’re sinking down on his hard length. 

„Fuck, Coryo.“ Your voice is nothing more than a breathless whimper as you continue to sink down on him, trying to adjust to the stretch. 

Coriolanus however, is too impatient to give you time to adjust, bucking up his hips to thrust up into you the moment you’re fully seated. 

You whimper, feeling his cock hit that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. 

Coriolanus groans, his grip on your waist tightening to guide your movements as he continues to thrust up into you. „Fuck, baby, you look so good riding my cock like that, wearing my shirt …“

You whimper, squeezing your walls around him. 

Coriolanus groans again, his expression clouded with pleasure. „Fuck, keep doing that and I’m not going to last long …“ 

You can’t help it - your walls squeeze around him again. 

A strangled moan escapes him then and you whimper when his thrusts get harder and faster and one of his hands finds its way to your core, brushing over the bundle of sensitive nerves. 

„Fuck- Coryo, please“, you whimper, as the pressure inside you keeps building and building and building. 

„Don’t worry, I’ve got you“, he says, as he continues to thrust into you at a relentless pace, his fingers teasing your clit. 

You do your best to meet his movements with your own, glad for his bruising grip on your hip, guiding your movements. 

„Just like that, you’re doing so good“, Coriolanus praises, sitting up to claim your lips in a hungry kiss. 

You whimper, overcome by all these different sensations - Coriolanus moving unrelentlessly inside you, his fingers on your clit, his lips on yours; turning you to mush in his arms. 

„Coryo!“, you breathlessly try to warn him when you feel your walls clenching around him again, you’re so close and you just want to feel your sweet release. 

„I’ve got you“, he repeats his earlier sentiment, his thrusts becoming even more erratic. „I’ve got you - fuck, you look so good, I could watch you riding me in my clothes forever, fuck-“

It’s his words that do you in, sending you over the edge. 

You come with a loud cry, his name on your lips, shaking in his grip, your walls squeezing him. 

„Fuck, fuck-“

It only takes two more thrusts and then Coriolanus is coming as well, spilling inside you. 

„Fuck, Coryo“, you whimper, still overly sensitive from your orgasm. 

„I’ve got you“, he repeats, pulling out of you, before closing his arms around you, shifting you around until your head lands on his chest and your back hits the soft mattress of the bed. 

You close your eyes as he settles a hand on your stomach, drawing you even closer for a moment. 

You stay like that for a long moment, both of you trying to catch your breath. 

Once you’ve calmed down enough, you notice how unbearably hot you feel - Coriolanus’s body heat is more than warm enough, but you’re still wearing his shirt that’s now drenched through with your sweat. 

You press a quick kiss to his cheek, ignoring the protesting noise Coriolanus makes as you move to sit up again. 

„My turn“, is all you say, as you finally take off his shirt and throw it to the floor, baring your chest to him. 

„What-“ Coriolanus’s remark is swallowed by the loud moan that escapes his lips when you settle back down in his lap, brushing against his erection. 

„My turn“, you repeat, grinning, „and I think it looks better on the floor.“ 

You swallow his reply with a hungry, desperate kiss. And judging by the way he’s squirming beneath you, trying to brush against your core, he probably doesn’t mind too much. 

someone please get me some holy water so I can cleanse my mind from these smutty thoughts

It’s finally here!! Sorry that it took me so long to get to it, but I’ve been in quite a writing slump these last few days.

Anyways, I’m wishing you all a Happy New Year <3 and thank you so much for all the love you’ve shown my writing lately! Here’s to more content in 2024!! :)

tagging:

@qoopeeya @honey-flustered @spectr3inl0ve @reader-bookling123 @itsnocturna @toogardenheart @theamuz @livius-codex @dominqueeekk @ebsmind @damagdcoda @snows-wife

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | NOT SO SECRET ADMIRER PRT.3

REQUEST : hii! i jus wanted to know if your remus lupin, “not so secret admirer” was gonna continue with more than two parts? i’m really enjoying the story 😽 ⏤requested by anon

TAGS. : casanova remus makes an appearance ; good news for reader ; date at the three broomsticks ; oversized sweater sharing moment ; remus is a gentleman ; most of the time ; he's so dreamy ; and flirty ; and a tease! ; you're too cute for him ; he thinks you're absolutely precious! ; lowkey idiots in love ; it's finally happening! ; you both have an effect on each other ; making it official hehe~ ; final part~

LENGTH : 1.8k

← PART ONE | PART TWO

Sirius whistles a sharp, short tune and wiggles his brows at Remus, “look over there, Moony~” Sirius sings as he gestures towards you from across the field, “your missus wants you to go over and give her a big ol’ smooch,”

“Shut up, Padfoot,” Remus laughs and playfully hits his best friend on the shoulder as he passes him on his way to you. He doesn’t care much for all the teasing; he’s been counting the days, and now, he’s counting his steps —the closer he gets to you, he starts to run. Remus doesn’t care if he looks stupid or overly eager, not when you’re smiling at him so beautifully; he wants to see you smiling from closer up. Just as he’s a few meters away, he hears you call out to him and his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. 

“I got top marks!” 

From where they were scattered around at the base of the ancient tree arching over the black lake, the Marauders eye their tall, love struck friend as he runs to you with, suddenly, open arms. 

“Looks as happy as a Niffler with all that treasure in his arms,” James laughs as their rambunctious group grins, snickering at the sight before them. Remus shouts in joy, his elation heard from across the field as he picks you up by the waist, only to pull you close moments later for a prolonged embrace. The sight warmed their hearts despite their determination in denying it. 

“He should really just kiss ‘er already,” Peter whines, his impatience drawing more snickers from two of his best friends. 

“You read my mind, Wormtail,” Sirius laughs, throwing his arm across his ratty friend’s shoulders, “wanna place your bets on when he’ll finally grow the balls to kiss ‘er?” all the boys share a wide grin and start placing their bets, Peter offering his treasured sweets, James, his full allowance for Hogsmeade weekend and Sirius, his recently concocted potion for a devious prank. 

“You sound like you’ve run a marathon to get here,” Remus throws his head back slightly, eyes shining with fondness as he lovingly caresses your warm cheek with the back of his hand. 

“I—” you take a moment to catch your breath, giggling briefly from your own embarrassment but the warmth ins chestnut-brown eyes calmed you down, “I thought you were in the library,”

Remus’ brows fly to his hairline from surprise as you hide your face in his sweater; a feeble attempt at sheltering away your sheepishness. You had been running about Hogwarts castle for him? The tall brunette doesn’t know whether he should laugh in good humour or kiss you stupid. 

The urge to kiss you was undeniable, however. Especially when you were being so adorable, hiding your sweet face in his chest like that. His long arms wrap around you, pressing you further into his warmth and comforting scent. The motion makes you sigh dreamily only to stutter when you feel a soft pair of lips press a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Congratulations…” his soft, deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. The sentiment was whispered with such sincerity, it made you swoon. Only you were allowed to hear his praise and your entire form lifted like a weightless cloud. You felt floaty and light. You want him to praise you more, you want him to kiss you more too. The last time he kissed you was the day before your exam - it was torture waiting for your exam to get marked. But he made the wait worth it, “How about that date? Huh?” 

Pulling away, you tilt your chin to peer up at him with a timid flutter of your lashes, “I was promised a butterbeer too…” 

The mix of your mischief and undeniable cuteness had Remus’ heart racing a mile a second; he couldn’t help but release the tension in a short laugh, “you can have as many butterbeers as you want!”

Hogsmeade weekend couldn’t come sooner enough. However, as soon as the awaited date had arrived, your excitement was turned into dread. An entire afternoon spent with Remus. You can imagine yourself already making a mess of things and, knowing how clumsy you get when you’re nervous, you’re sure it isn’t long before you’re tripping over air and making a spectacle of yourself. 

“Easy there,” Remus coos at you softly when you jump in surprise from his sudden actions, “sorry about that but you were shaking like an autumn leaf, sweetheart,” he flashes you an apologetic smile before his expression melts into adoration at the sight of you in his oversized grandpa sweater, “is that better?”

You manage a timid nod, avoiding his beautiful eyes as you slip your arms into place, adoring the familiar comfort the warmth and smell of his sweater brought you. It was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous. This was Remus; he wouldn’t do anything to make you feel bad or embarrassed just because of a silly mistake. You peek up at him from beneath the cover of your lashes. He’s so tall and handsome and just so… perfect. A gentle giant, topped with messy brown hair, soft eyes and covered in mysterious, faded scars but remains ever kind. This is why you fell for him, why he has such an effect on your heart, why he has such a pull on your entire being. He is safety and comfort and love all moulded into the beautiful gentleman that he is. 

With a surge of bravery, you inch closer and closer to your Hogsmeade date’s side until you’re practically pressed into him. Remus smiles at you but tries to hide away his blushing cheeks by keeping his gaze forward as he leads you down the path to the Three Broomsticks. It isn’t until he feels your small, soft hand slip into his much larger one that he finally glances down at you. The two of you meet eyes once more before you’re hiding your embarrassment away by burrowing your face into his bicep. 

For the love of Merlin, could you stop being so lovable and precious?! Girls like you were his number one weakness — you were going to kill him at this rate!  

“If you keep at this cuteness act, I’ll have no choice but to wrap you up in my arms and run back to the castle so I can have you to myself forever, little dove,”

Was he just playing around or was he being serious?

You look up and stare into his eyes — you couldn’t quite tell… 

As promised Remus treated you to as many butterbeers as you wanted, not that you wanted much anyway. Not only that but the butterbeer does a good job of warming you up and you didn’t fancy having to take off Remus’ generously offered sweater so you’ll stick to your second butterbeer for now. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anymore? I did make a promise,” Remus urges gently but when you politely shake your head ‘no’ and wrap your arms around yourself to burrow your nose under the stretched out collar of his sweater, he instantly knew your reasoning. You make it so easy to fall in love with you, “Is there something else you’d like then? Maybe a dessert? I don’t feel like I’ve rewarded you enough for a job well done on that test,”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you blurt out, “Being with you is reward enough,”

…did you think he was joking when he told you his intentions on the way here? 

“I wasn’t joking, little dove,” he hears you softly hum in curiosity, asking him to elaborate, “I will keep you all to myself if you don’t stop being so adorable,”

“I-I don’t mean to—” he laughs at your flustered state and picks up your hand to kiss your knuckles. 

“I. Don’t. Care,” it was a threat but one that was lovingly spoken into your skin as he kept your hand raised to his lips. Your eyes meet his over the bumps and grooves of your knuckles. He was being very sincere. 

“…how—“ you hesitate, biting your lip and avoiding his eyes momentarily, “how about a compromise?…” bargaining for your freedom — this wasn’t something you expected the afternoon to turn into. Nevertheless, you’re willing to play along, bearing in mind the serious undertones of your conversation. 

“I’m listening,” he hums and he almost sounds like he’s purring; a familiar glint of mischief reflecting in his eyes as he focuses his gaze onto your hand. You watch as he admires the way his fingers interlock with yours, forming an intimate hold where his larger hand appears to devour your smaller one. He looks into your eyes again, a small prompt asking you to continue with the proposal. 

“How about we promise to see each other every day at lunch?”

“Not good enough,”

You nibble on your bottom lip and miss Remus’ lingering stare, “breakfast and lunch?”

“Still not good enough,” he’s smiling —no, he’s smirking at you. What happened to your gentle giant?! He’s supposed to be kind and sweet, not a tease! You’re dangerously close to having a heart attack and he’s showing no mercy!

“D-dinner too, then?”

“Your suggestions are not satisfactory,“ his words are that of a professional, “and I’m getting very impatient, my dear,” you’re speechless as he holds up your hand and rolls the long sleeve of his sweater down your arm, exposing your skin where he begins to pepper a light trail of kisses down. 

In between your flustered state and racing mind, you don’t know how your panic managed to translate your thoughts so articulately, “How could I possible work out a compromise with you then?!”

“You’re a smart girl, you know what I want,”

“No, I—”

“What I want is what you want…”

His words make you pause. For a moment, you can hear nothing but your racing heart pumping blood past your ears, see nothing but Remus’ smirking lips and piercing brown eyes, feel nothing but his lips on the skin of your arm, taste nothing but the lingering alcohol on your tongue. It takes one big inhale to muster up enough courage, furthered by your earlier two frothing tankards of butterbeer, “be my boyfriend then…” you sound like a shy but demanding, spoiled child. One that Remus would happily pamper to your heart’s content. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, sweetheart,” his kind smile makes your heart race and an elated grin slowly grows on your lips before he’s leaning across the table at lightening speed, your hand still held captive in his, “Lets seal it with a kiss, shall we?”

You expected him to kiss your forehead. But no. No, this kiss was so much better. 

He tastes like chocolate and buttery, foaming beer.   

A/N : Goodness did this take a long time, im so sorry my darlings! i don’t know why i consistently kept getting writers block when it came to writing this fic. i think it’s partially to do with the fact that i never really intended to continue the original timestamp hehe~ nevertheless, it’s here and i hope you darlings enjoyed the read!

NAVI. 

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88 @fallencrescentmoon @topaz125 @xxrougefangxx @starchaser-lily @probablypossesedbysatan @agent-tempest @veryberryjelly @th3-st4r-gur1 @sousydive @rosalyn-s @thelastbrainceliishere @littleshadow17 @b-i-h-i @babiely @nickkie99 @hehehhehexd @imdoingbetternow @regulusblacksposts @nicassie @lovelyygirl8 @onedaysoonyoullsee @jennieasfrance @onlyfredslibrary @soradragon @idli-dosa-reblogs @remusparkers

[pomefioredove]

If you don't mind, could you do for Flirty prompts event: "Trouble never looked so goddamn fine." with Riddle?

absolutely o7 I had a lot of fun with this one

summary: "trouble never looked so goddamn fine" type of post: short fic characters: riddle additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, maybe a little ooc, riddle being a repressed victorian LOL a part of this event

"Are you done yet?"

Riddle knows, logically, that you're only doing this to get on his nerves. No matter how he chides, shouts, threatens (and makes good of those threats), you keep coming back for more.

You flash him a big grin, strawberry staining your teeth red.

He grimaces. You either have a death wish, or you're stupid enough to think that he won't punish you.

"We're on a schedule," he says, though you're already well aware.

"The unbirthday party ended an hour ago. You can't possibly still be eating."

"And let this go to waste?" you gasp, pointing your fork at the last remaining slice of tart. "That would be rude, Housewarden."

You're clearly being sarcastic.

Death wish, it is.

"There is no rule about having to finish an entire tart by yourself," Riddle crosses his arms. "Let alone one about having to stay after an unbirthday party has ended for it."

You roll your eyes. Testing his patience once again.

"I didn't say it was a dorm rule. It's just common courtesy. I'm sure Trey will be flattered once he sees the entire plate licked clean."

Riddle shivers at the mental image of that. "That is wholly unnecessary,"

"Maybe if you help me finish, I'll be done faster," you hum.

It's a trap. He knows it is. But...

"If it will get you back to your room, so be it," he sighs, taking a seat beside you. "I suppose I have room for half a piece. Shall I c-"

He turns, and is met with a forkful of glistening strawberry, mere inches from his lips.

"What is this?"

"Tart,"

He sighs. "No, what are you doing?"

"Sharing, like we said,"

You address him as if it's the most normal thing in the world. Riddle narrows his eyes.

"I'm not eating off that. Your mouth was on it,"

You shrug, eyes brimming with barely-restrained mirth. "I cleaned it,"

And he's supposed to believe that? He crosses his arms, glaring, but you still don't back down.

You're nearly as stubborn as he is. After an agonizing eternity of staring, he closes the distance between himself and the tart, eating off your fork.

Only to be met with another piece.

"I am not a child. I can feed myself," he mutters. He can feel his face turning red, and not from anger.

"Sure, you can, but I bet this is much better, right?"

Riddle sighs, taking another sweet bite. He really shouldn't entertain you; he doesn't want you getting any ideas...

You hum, clearly pleased with his compliance, and then take bite off the same fork.

He pales. "That's disgusting,"

"I actually quite like this tart, thank you," you say merrily, talking through a mouthful of strawberry.

Such a clear disregard for table manners... It makes his heart skip a beat.

"That is clearly not what I meant. And I'm not having any more,"

You scoff. "What are you, five? Afraid of cooties?"

Riddle's face turns redder than the tart itself. He stammers pathetically for a moment, at a loss for his usual sharp words.

"I-I am not! It's unsanitary to share utensils!"

"Is that a rule?"

He simmers, crossing his arms again. "As you put it, it's just common courtesy,"

You draw another forkful up, letting it linger in front of your lips for a moment. "Fine, I'll leave..."

Your hesitance turns into mirth, and you point the tart towards his own mouth. "But... just one more bite."

Riddle scoffs, studying your expression. He hopes you're joking.

You're not.

He knows he really shouldn't indulge you. You're enough of a troublemaker as it is... but...

...He leans forward and takes the bite. Trouble never looked so goddamn fine.

[kungfubarbie101]

Toy- Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

nsfw/smut, fem!reader, p in v, cunnilingus, light fingering, dom!Ghost, masked/unmasked Ghost

Ghost had entered your room, rummaging through your desk draw in attempt to find a laptop charger since Soap decided to ‘borrow’ his and then never return it. “Fucking hell, where is it….” He said to himself as he slammed the drawer shut, turning to your dresser, pulling open the top drawer to reveal a collection of lingerie.

His eyes had widened, he didn’t expect you having these finds of clothing and was pissed that you haven’t worn any for him. He stared at many pairs of thongs, knee highs, and many more things folded neatly, he lingered his eyes to a pair of sexy red lingerie that caught his eye. He got curious and lifted to outfit, unfolding it to his eye level, smirking, he thought of you wearing it, how skimpy you must look in it, how hot you would look wearing it in front of him before he strips it off of you as he fucks you.

He adjusted his pants. He was about to place them back but another thing had caught his eye, a black object that laid just right underneath of the red lingerie set. “What the fuck is this?” He questioned to himself before placing the lingerie set down and picking up the new item he just found. He held the item, studying it for a second before turning it to see that there was a button on the bottom, he furrowed his eyebrows and pushed it. As he pressed the button the whole thing began to vibrate.

He scoffed in realization. He just had found your vibrator. “For fuck sake (your name).”

Soon after Ghost had found your pervy little item, he decided he was going to ask you about it once you got back. And as you did come back to your room after training, exhausted and ready to relax you noticed that Ghost wasn’t there when he said he was stopping by. You wondered if he must have found what he was looking for and left so you went into your room, setting down your duffel bag and opening the top draw of your draw, as you looked inside you noticed that a pair of your lingerie sets had been misplaced since the last time you saw it.

The red lingerie set that had your vibrator covered, which was missing.

You furrowed your eye brows, rummaging around through your draw to make sure you didn’t misplace it and before you could question yourself you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned seeing Ghost.

“Looking for this?”

Your eyes widened seeing as Ghost had your toy in his fingers, waving it slightly at you. You stood speak less and embarrassed as he began to move closer to you. “Am I just not good enough, (your name)?” He pausing as he took another step forward to you, his tall figure looking down at you. “Do I just….not satisfy your desires?” His thick british accent was stern as he spoke.

You took a deep breath, steadying your breathing before speaking, “Ghost, you know you fill me up with lots of desire….quite often” You replied, your eyes shifting as you spoke, and your cheeks hot. You could almost see that shit eating grin he had on his face through his mask. “If you want pleasure (your name), just say something, call my name.” This made you smirk, shifting slightly leaning into him close to his face as you could get.

“Trust me Ghost, I’ve called you name many times. And I mean many…” Your tone had shifted to nervousness to seductive in a split second. This made Ghost have shivers of arousment go down his spine as you looked up at him with such desire and lust. Eye fucking him at this point. He bit his bottom lip, his eyes not leaving yours. “This toy won’t be needed anymore, you’ve got me, got it?” His sentence wasn’t just a question it was more of an order that if he catches you even rubbing this thing against your pussy to make you cum, he was going to show you who really can make you cum ten times as harder then this stupid toy.

Your knees felt weak, and your heart was fluttering as your stomach was doing back flips. But you couldn’t let him win over this whole teasing gig so you decided to dig deeper.

“You think you can do better?” You tease.

He chuckled at your comment, crossing his arms and pulling away from you. He was taking it as a challenge.

“I most definitely could”

You shook your head, you could tell he was semi offended just how his body language was but you continued on. “Sorry but I really can’t take your word for it….” You walked away from him, sitting at the edge of the bed, motioning him to come over which he gladly did.

“I need you to prove it to me, Simon….”

Oh boy and how that got to him, how you said his name, his actual name mind fucked him. Your ass was going to get fucked well and good.

He walked over closer to you, pushing your body down on the bed with some force. You grinned. His knee went immediately in between your crotch, leaning down into your form, grabbing you by the back of the head causing a groan from you. Your hair tangling in between his fingers, he used his free hand and practically ripping his mask off his face and kissed you hungrily. His dirty blonde hair and blue eyes gleaming in your view, it’s not like you haven’t seen his face before but whenever you do, you can’t help yourself but stare at him in awe.

The tension had grew larger as Ghost reached his hand underneath your shirt, feeling as your nipple poked out from your sports bra, he pinched your nipple through the thinner fabric, making a breathy moan come from you as he dominated your mouth.

You had no control of the situation, none once so ever. He broke the kiss, exploring to your jawline and down your neck, nibbling small marks against your skin. You let a groan slip from your tongue, which seemed to arouse him more.

“Simon….” You muttered under your breath. Running your fingers through his dirty blonde hair, he moved further down your body till he met the zipper of your cargo pants. Unzipping them and eagerly pulling them down your legs. He didn’t hold himself back.

“Shirt off now….” He said sternly.

You followed orders stripping your shirt off immediately. You now just being left in a bra and panties. He stared at your body, taking in every curve. He looked down a saw, lord and behold, you where wearing a thong. He kneeled down, pushing the side of your thong to the side, revealing the spot he was hungrily looking forward to.

He dipped his head down, running his tongue up and down. With every motion and swirl he made your body grew hotter and pleasure building inside of you. He sucked and licked circles around your pulsing clit, not stopping for anything. You gripped the sheets, moaning coming from your mouth was nothing but sweet sweet music for Ghost. You frantically pulled your bra off, your breasts bouncing slightly as they fell from your bra, your nipples hardened.

You felt Ghosts mouth leave your pussy, causing a yern from you until you felt his finger plunge inside of your hole. Your lower body arched, “Fuck!” You yelled, which caused Ghost to quickly cover your mouth. “Soap is in the other room, you be a good girl and be quiet” Ghost told you, making you nod in response before he began with no hesitation to start finger fucking you. “I can’t….” You moaned out, which only made him go faster, his fingering plunging in and out at a rapid pace where you could hardly keep up on.

Those fingers had slipped out of you, being replaced by something thicker and longer.

His dick began to slowly push in and out of you, a whimper leaving your mouth as his dick stretched you out. This aroused him, he began to thrust himself in and out, getting you use to him. “Simon…” You closed your eyes, squinting from the pain. Grabbing your hip, fitting himself all the way deep inside of your pussy. Those soft and slow thrusts quickly became rough pounding. “Oh fuck, (your name)” Ghost let out, he cocked his head back, the way your vagina walls clenched around him was nothing he had felt before, more exotic and exciting to him.

The sounds of skin slapping and shaky moans clouded the both of you as Ghost rutted his dick in you. The force hitting your g-spot at a ruthless pace. He was hungry, his grip became firm, holding you tightly as he fucked you, balls deep into your cunt. His chest heaving and eyes half lidded sent thrill through you, he looked so pretty as he was filled with much pleasure and lust. You were about to cum.

“Simon….I’m close. P-please don’t stop…” You begged between each breath as you moaned for him. Your hips grind against his as your orgasm grew. His pace began to slow which caught you off guard, and before you could even speak he spun you around to your stomach. You loved how dominant he was getting with you, you like you where being controlled.

He reached under your hips, lifting your ass up in the air for him. He placed a palm at the center of your back, pushing your back so your arching for him and you ass perked up. He rubbed his middle finger up your pussy, “God your so soaked (your name)”. He realigned with your hole, easing his dick all the way inside of you. He began to pound inside of you once again, hands gripping at your hips as he did so.

You dug your face into the pillow in front of you, concealing your moans, your fingers gripped the sheets. “(Your name) I’m going to cum….” He breathlessly confessed, followed by low groans. This set you off, “Simon….stay just like that. I’m so close…” You moaned out from the side of the pillow, crying out to him, the mascara you once had on your lashes smearing off.

At the moment you both had came, his semen coding your vagina walls. Heat pulsing and back arching, a wave of crashed over you, your legs trembled at the hard climax. You where basically quivering. Ghost had pulled out of you, almost collapsing on top of you, the pleasure he had just experienced was astronomical. He went and grabbed a damp towel, helping you clean up before he untangled his body with yours, lifting your body on top of his.

“You where right….I’ll come to you then that toy”

This made Ghosts night, but you knew you where going to get shit from Soap in the morning.

[beenbaanbuun]

country boy w/ mingi

thinking thoughts about country boy mingi who talks to you in a southern drawl as he leans his upper body on the bonnet of his truck. he’s so shameless with the way he looks you up and down, and you really don’t mind at all. in fact, you almost wish you could swap places with that stupid toothpick he keeps dangling from his pretty lips.

“don’t you think you ought to be getting home, doll?” he croons at you as you push yourself up to sit on the hood. the way your thighs spread against the red metal makes him salivate, but he’s a strong man. he can control himself, “i don’t think your daddy is my biggest fan; he wouldn’t appreciate you hanging around someone like me after sunset.”

as much as you hate to admit it, mingi is right; something about the farm boy from the neighbouring ranch just didn’t sit right with your daddy. maybe it’s his cocky way of speaking, or the rumours that get passed around town by all the pretty buckle bunnies who had their turn with him. the cowboy had built quite a reputation for himself, over the years. he likes to fuck and chuck; he’d rarely beds the same girl twice, and never more than three times. those brief encounters seem to be enough for most of the women you come across in the local bars—they do nothing but rave about how nonchalant and uncaring the cowboy is in bed. apparently, the way he fucks them hard and rough makes him all the more attractive.

yet he was never anything but soft with you. soft smiles, soft words, soft touches. just soft. if only your daddy could see the way he grins at you as he pulls the hat from his head and settles it atop yours, or the way his lithe fingers tighten the string around your chin to secure the hat in place. the deep chuckle that leaves him as the brim falls over your eyes goes straight to your chest, your heart beating unhealthily quick.

“my daddy doesn’t control me,” you push the brim up so you can see his pretty face. his skin is gorgeously tan from all those hours he spends in the field with his boss’s horses. you often watch him from your window, sketchbook in hand as you messily draw him over and over. he doesn’t look quite as good in graphite as he does through the glass of your bedroom window. seeing him like this, so close that you could touch him, is even better, “and i’m not ready to go home yet. besides, didn’t you promise me a ride on mr campbell’s prize pony?

he smiles and it shines brighter than the sun that’s taking its time in sinking below the horizon. his laugh puts the sound of morning birds to shame. his skin is smoother than your daddy’s whiskey, and his eyes sharper than his switchblade. nothing compares to him, you figure as you gaze into his deep hazelnut eyes; you could watch him and never hunger for anything else. you’d be sustained for life.

“sure i did, doll,” he takes the toothpick out and flicks it to the ground. you watch as it lands in the dirt by his dusty leather boots before letting your eyes drag themselves back up his body to reach his eyes. every part of him is just as pretty as the next and you find that the more you stare, the more you want to have him, “but it’s getting to be dark soon, and like i said, your daddy doesn’t approve of me. i’m not quite good enough for his little princess, am i?”

“i think you’re good enough for me,” you blurt out, heat immediately rising to your face as you take in what you’ve just said. humiliating yourself in front of the man you’ve been dreaming about for years is never good, especially not when you see the man almost every day. you look to the floor, cursing yourself as you hear mingi hum in amusement. it’s not for long, though. he catches your chin on one long finger, drawing your eyes back up to his.

“i’m sure you do, doll,” his voice is teasing, as is his lopsided grin. it sends a shiver down your spine as he taunts you, “precious little thing, thinking i don’t see the way you stare at me from your window. i see the hearts in your eyes, y’know. the way they turn green whenever you see me with one of those towny girls. it's cute; you’re cute.”

a huge hand comes to rest on your exposed thigh. you freeze in place, eyes on his, heart in your mouth. then his other hand meets with your other thigh and without any resistance from you, he parts them just enough to shuffle his body between them. you swallow down the knot in your throat as he invades your personal space.

“part of me wants to agree with your daddy; you’re too good for me, doll. you deserve someone better,” his face is too close to yours. you’re holding your breath as if you might blow him away if you were to exhale. his own fans across your face, the scent of mint and menthol filling your senses. suddenly, it’s your favourite smell in the world, “but then again, i tend to be possessive over things i consider to be mine… and i don’t think i could bear it if i were to see my doll hanging off another man’s arm, hm?”

he whispers that last bit, the slow drawl of his accent echoing through your brain, turning your thoughts to mush. you’re sure he can see the effect he’s having on you; the shallow rise and fall of your chest, your swollen lip from where your teeth continuously tug against it, your glazed-over, thoughtless eyes. you’re also sure that it’s only serving to encourage him.

still, even if mingi currently has your legs in a gelatinous state and your heart ticking like a time bomb, your daddy didn’t raise a pushover. a princess, yes, but never a pushover. one of your (extremely shaky) hands finds its way to his chest, pushing at the linen-clad muscles ever-so-gently until he stumbles just a few inches back. despite your eyes not being able to find his face, you know you can do this.

“well, what about you?” your voice is feeble. you clear your throat in the hopes of making it stronger, “you think i like watching you flirt with other women? to hear all those nasty stories about what goes down in the bed of your truck?” the more you talk, the more your courage builds. you look him in the eye, only to see he’s still smirking. that beautiful, infuriating smirk, “you’re not the only possessive one, mingi. if i’m yours, you’re mine—”

the next few seconds happen in a flash, but you can pick out three key events. first, he bullies his way between your thighs again, pushing them wide and pulling you close until his pelvis is flush against yours. then, with a determined hand, he rips the hat away from your head, slamming it down onto the hood of his truck and making you jump. there’s almost no time between that and the final event, though, as before you can say a single thing more, a pair of determined lips find your own.

they’re hot as they trap you in a kiss, moving quickly and sloppily against your own. he’s quick to take charge, fingers pressing deep into the flesh of your thighs as he moves his lips against yours. it’s like he’s been waiting for this for years, and now that he’s finally got it, he’s not willing to let it go. desperate, and hard and fast, it makes your head spin in the most delicious way. so much so, in fact, that you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck to act as some sort of stability as you melt into his touch.

he pulls away for mere seconds, just enough for you to catch your breath, before diving in for more. this time, he leads with his tongue, bullying his way into your mouth as soon as his lips are on yours again. there’s no fight for dominance, the both of you already knowing that he’s the one in charge of this whole ordeal. you just let yourself sink into it, enjoying every second of him devouring your mouth.

all you can hear is moans mixed with the sound of lips smacking against lips. you can’t tell where your moans finish and his start, but perhaps it just goes to show how in sync the two of you really are.

he finally pulls away again, for good this time, and a heavy sigh falls from his lips, “i’ve always been yours, doll,” his wet lips meet your neck, and you tip your head back as a moan tumbles from your parted lips, “from the moment i met you, i was yours.”

“what about—”

“gossip spreads in a small town like this,” he cuts you off, “not everything you hear is true. you have a one-night stand to get over a girl once and suddenly you’ve slept your way through the whole town. honestly, i’m kind of glad the story focuses on how good i am in bed and not on the way i cried about you after i came…”

you can’t stifle the giggle that bubbles from your throat as he nuzzles against your neck.

“you cried about me?” you laugh.

“multiple times, doll,” he confirms, “what can i say, i’m a softie at heart.”

[luveline]

hiii jade!! are you planning to do any pregnant!reader x sirius

don't mind me i'm a sucker for sirius fluff 🤭

Sirius blows into your ear gently. “You’re falling asleep.” 

You’ve moved into his lap like a cheap tent badly pitched. Your neck hurts, your face against your own shoulder, but the brunt of your weight held up by your antagoniser. Sirius doesn’t complain about your elbow in his stomach or your cheek on his chest, but his embrace isn’t free, clearly. It comes with teasing. 

“I’m not.” 

“You are, my love.” 

You tamp down a full body shiver. How nice it is to be so warm and be held so closely. His arms encircle your front firmly but casual all the same. He never seems shy about anything.

“Do I look bulbous?” you question.

James hears it from the kitchen table. “Afraid so!” 

“No,” Sirius says, ignoring his cruel friend. He brings his hand to your stomach and covers as much of your bump as he can, which isn’t much. “Stupid question.” 

“Are you going to come and help at any point, mate?” James calls. “Or shall I install your cabinets by myself?” 

“In a minute, Prongs!” He kisses your cheek. “My girl needs a minute, don’t you?” 

“I’m okay.” 

Sirius hums and shifts you closer to his chest. He’s been even sweeter than usual lately. You worried it might freak you out if he was going to keep treating you like a fragile, breakable thing, even give you a smarmy feeling —you’re pregnant, not incapable. But it’s all been well-received. Honestly, you could do with more moments like this, but you won’t tell him that, and he won’t hold it over your head that he knows. 

“He can do it himself anyways. I just hold the screws.” Sirius touches your stomach. “How’s the kicking?” 

“You can feel it if you go a little higher.” 

“Yeah?” His hand climbs slowly upward, waiting for the little kicks. He presses down firmly, the only sign he’s felt your baby’s movements a catch in his breath. “There he is. Oh, fuck, he’s really going for it tonight. Jesus Christ.” 

“It’s fine. I like him kicking like that. Less pressure on everything else.” 

Sirius grins and draws a line under the kicks with a proud hand. “You need anything before I go help the nuisance?” he asks. 

You tip your head back, pouting for a kiss you receive in less than a second. He’s rough in his way, gentle as he moves back and chucks you under the chin. “Get off me, then,” he says. 

You laugh and flop onto your side. He pats your hip as he goes, not going far.

[pursuitseternal]

“Knowledge is a dangerous weapon:” Bookworm!Tav, Vampiric Spawn Powers, and Breeding—“Bites” Update 📚

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 4.6K of banter and breeding

Based on an anonymous prompt

(HBD @lipstickghoulie )

Summary: You have always loved your books and a challenge, when your Vampire Rogue learns his starvation has kept him from his full powers, you take him up on his challenge to teach him the skills that are his due. As you draw closer together, he finds that one bit of information you have failed to teach him… how to make a dhampire

CW: light mocking of Astarion’s ditziness, Spawn Spidercrawl, catching powers and feelings, flirty touching, creepy silent vampire moves, Breeding talk, no babies just breeding, Mating Press™️

Ao3 link | Series link | Masterlist

📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚

You always knew he was… dumb. Thick headed. Unobservant.

Okay, at times the comments from his thick, rosy lips were just plain stupid. “That lever… must do something…” That was a wonderful moment, one that earned him your eyes rolling so far back in your skull they hurt. “We have some words and some… circles…. Wonder what they do….” Another example of his unparalleled intelligence.

Not to mention the countless times he failed to remember any of the major gods and their shrines as you passed through crypts and defiled chapels.

For as handsome as he was, for as sultry and seductive as you found him, he was… smoothed-brained. But as your journey forced you closer together, you couldn’t help but think some of it may be merely pretense, he was a magistrate after all. He was abused and tortured for centuries, surely that does things to one’s mind. And he was always reading. Every day, every night at camp, his beautiful aquiline nose stuck in a book, crimson eyes devouring the words at a breakneck speed.

One to even rival your own thirst for knowledge.

Maybe it was that you allowed the poor Spawn a chance to drink living, thinking blood for once. Your own. Maybe that was what began to take his little, stupid moments and turn them into something endearing.

Not that he was gracious when you corrected his ignorance. Every time, he gave that adorable, grumpy harumph and then defended his comments, or… since he started feeding from you, he’d just look at your neck still freshly marked and lick his lips. That really shut you up. Set you on fire.

But it wasn’t until you needed him to reach that last little chest up on the crumbling ledge inside some dank cavern that you realized his ignorance wasn’t wholly pretend.

Astarion, vampire spawn, didn’t know just what he should be capable of. He looked positively befuddled when you told him to just climb the brick wall. His sass had been sharp, “I’m not some spider, darling.”

“But you can spider climb, you dolt,” you had laughed imitating his tone, trying to call his bluff on skills he should have, at least according to what you had read in your book. A Spawn should scale such a wall with immense ease.

He just narrowed his crimson eyes at you, a snarl on his lips as he shook his head. “I have never performed such an act, darling, nor have any of my brothers and sisters, those of us Cazador kept for his bidding. Better check your precious facts in your precious tomes before you throw your assumptions on my prowess… dear.”

You still shiver at that night. Back at camp. When you ignored the way he bristled as you approached him in front of his tent. He had sneered at you, readying his next acerbic quip for you… Until you sat so close beside him, settling the heavy book in his lap. Leaning in, you point to the page. Traits and Strengths of the Vampiric Spawn.

You felt him cease breathing, his left hand clutching at the edge of the book growing even whiter. “Astarion,” you breathed. Leaning in more, you looked into his eyes, his gaze scanning the words so quickly on the aged vellum. And then he shoved you by your cheek out of his sightline. He needed to finish this.

“Why, I should be positively remarkable, assuming your book is correct,” he sighed, as if he saw a vision, a dream fulfilled. One where he was powerful.

You nodded as his crimson eyes flashed at you, wide with wonder. “You mentioned Cazador never let you feed enough, and not from thinking creatures.” He nodded, skeptical even as his eyes fixated on your lips. “Well, what you did not know was that denying you a sufficient diet meant also restricting you from your full powers, even as a Spawn, Astarion. You should be able to climb up walls and ceilings, move swifter, lift boulders too much for even Karlach to manage. You should be able to heal almost instantaneously, without potion or feeding.”

“And now?” he replied, that little tremor of hope in his voice unmistakable as his hand traced over the page of your book.

“Well, it’s a difficult deduction, since you have our unwelcome illithid parasite. But now that you are feeding regularly, even from thinking creatures, you should find the effects more than just making you feel… happy,” you rambled on. Even as you kept talking, his eyes glued their gaze to your neck, your lips. If you weren’t mistaken, they even dipped down the v-shaped cut of your tunic.

“So… the more I drink from thinking creatures, the stronger and more powerful I will be?” he murmured, a slight grit in his throat as his eyes definitely darted down your bosom now.

“Y-yes,” you rejoined, sliding back just a touch.

And he slid that touch closer, and then some.

“You’ll help me, won’t you, darling? You’ll help me learn these skills? Give me all I require to access my full potential….” His eyes looked wet, the ruby irises glowing in the flickering firelight. “Please?” he adds with that smirk and that single arching brow of his made you stomach flutter and heart thump so hard in your chest.

“I…” you started, but he only seemed to lean ever closer.

“You know, when I was a Magistrate, back in the City, I would have craved someone with intelligence like yours. We would have been rivals, colleagues…” his eyes dip once more shamelessly up and down your seated body. “Perhaps lovers even,” he breathed. “I always surrounded myself with those of highest intellect, darling. Intelligence is so… undervalued by many, and knowledge is a dangerous weapon, but I see you, my darling. Won’t you please come to my aid now?”

“We… we can try,” you had whispered, barely able to the let the words from your lips with how you seemed to seize under the intensity of his stare.

“Wonderful,” he purred, catching your cheek, your chin in his cool palm. “I just hope we don’t have to wait too long…”

You squirmed as his thumb began to brush beneath your lip.

“…to put my new strengths to the test I mean, of course.” He smirked that little bit more twistedly. More seductively. And you knew he heard your heart beating in your artery, your blood rushing under his touch in your veins to pool lower. It was his nature, and you knew more of it than he did.

“Of course…” you breathed. “I’d be happy to help.”

“Then it’s settled,” his voice was thick in his throat, you relished the way his other arm stole around you, clutching at you back to bring you all the closer under his heady spell of charm and seduction. “All that’s left is to seal our new arrangement somehow…”

He pushed that heavy book off his lap, sliding to bring you into completely flushed against him. You’re sure your pulse was raging so loudly, it’s deafened his pointed and twitching ears. That chilled, corpse-cold touch under your chin tilts you up just… so…

You melted, closing that distance between your lips. Every logical thought dispersed in the wind of your desire, that panting breath that passed from your lungs into his.

That’s how this all began, and where it had brought you to this moment, where he clings to the ceiling of a massive cavern filled with both the stink of Gnolls and the vile creatures themselves. Dagger gripped in between his glinting fangs. He readies himself with a look of pure and dark excitement. He loves this. He misses this when it’s just you all back in the quiet of camp, where he tests his ever growing strength and climbing abilities, where he drinks from you every night before he hunts in the dark.

Where he slowly makes you more and more aware of your awakening body the more he touches you and caresses and kisses you. Always every night. Always between your increasingly intellectual discussions about vampiric powers and the moment he sinks his fangs into your skin to feed. He always leaves you after dark, his own belly sated, while you… you grow all the hungrier. Needier. You want more debate, more analysis, more of his body covering yours as he drinks you down.

But not anything more. Not yet. Even as you knew he was edging closer to asking you for sex. Even if he didn’t know all the… implications. After all, knowledge was a dangerous weapon.

You shake your head to free yourself from the longing thoughts of past nights and burning expectations of the night to come. You give him the signal, watching him release with flawless precision, dagger in hand now, as he falls from his spider-perch.

The Gnolls never see you coming, not before your endearingly ferocious Vampire Spawn lands with preternatural grace on their heads and vivisects them before you even reach their location.

He pants as you get at least one good shot from your bow, right for the last twitching body on the ground.

It’s not until you smile, satisfied, you notice that Astarion’s pale skin is riddled with scratches and tears from the beasts’ claws. He holds out his arms, rolling up his sleeves and smiling. Enjoying the sight of his vampiric body healing before his eyes. That crimson gaze practically glows as he looks at you over the carnage. “See something you like, my sweet?” he purrs, arching that brow, just for you, as if the others in your party aren’t even there.

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, turning to find the coveted chest of supplies, that Zhentarim sigil on it is no deterrent to you. Not when your Vampire Spawn can charm anyone to do anything now. “We better head back to camp,” you kneel before the strong chest, trying your hand to pick the iron lock.

“Tch,” his voice brushes your ear, physically tickling the small stray hairs that make you gasp. “You know I’m far more skilled with my fingers, especially when it comes to slipping inside…” You shudder to feel him crouching right behind you, his thighs pressed against your ass, his waist brushing your lower back. “…Slipping inside chests, locks, that sort of thing,” he adds louder, just to appease your unease. That dexterous touch has only grown all the smoother and stronger and sneakier now that he has fed well for a while.

He is so sneaky in fact, only one of his hands actually works the lock pick for a moment, the other quickly skates up your leg, tracing the inner seam of your buckskin breeches almost to the peak of your thigh. He laughs in your ear as you muffle a noise under your own palm.

“Soldiers, you really need four hands to pick one lock? Haven't you gotten better, Fangs, now that our fearless leader has let you suck on her and tutor you in being a Spawn?” Karlach chortles, her feet swaying side to side in that perpetual motion dance she seems to do.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Astarion throws the barb over his shoulder, letting you bury your face to hide the tweaks of ecstasy at the corners of your eyes as his fingers keep moving higher… higher. “Some silent performance only you get to savor, it seems?”

“If I didn't know better…” Gale’s pedantic voice draws closer.

“There now,” Astarion crows like the proudest rooster of them all, his hand quickly leaving the edge of your mound to twist that pick and pop the lock just as Gale peers from behind. “Look at all this loot,” he groans and stands, satisfied as he folds his arms over his chest. “Good thing you have a strong, well-fed Vampire to bring it back with us. Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

He smirks down at you, hand extended to help you to your feet. Back to the rest, he flashes you that fang-toothed smirk that he knows sets your pulse galloping out of control. Pulling you up, he has to steady you in your legs, near boneless as they are with just that tease of pleasure. “Calm yourself darling, you're making my undead heart hurt sympathetically from all that… excitement,” he rasps right into your ear once you’re on your feet before him, releasing you in favor of bags of treasure and potions and loot to stuff in his pack.

Your mind is racing as your trod back towards your little camp well off the Risen Road for good measure. Thoughts scramble, worries peak their heads up, and you can’t stop thinking about the rest of what you have learned reading about vampires. Necessary research for you, particularly since Astarion has seemingly added flirtation and seduction into your witty repartee this last tenday. So far, you’ve managed to keep his wandering eyes from those pages when he glances through your tomes. He seems to prefer every little dip of your skin where he can see it at any rate. So far, you’ve managed to keep his hands in places on your body that are not too dangerous, yours on his as well.

But something inside you knows that tide is shifting. He wants to offer you more in exchange for more… and… well, if it doesn’t just make your body thrum with life in ways no books had and no previous interests had either.

He has beaten you back to camp, haphazardly tossed the loot for the rest of you to sort out in the center of camp. You know he’s waiting in his tent, now that the sun has begun to trek lower and lower. It’s time for your research, for your indulgence of his strength, and… whatever else might happen.

His tent is dimly lit as you enter, a mess of blankets and pillows, some fine and some in tatters. Stacks of books in the corners have replaced the blood bank bottles you first found here to clutter his space.

But no Astarion.

You tilt your head confused, settling down on one pillow, more or less intact, reaching for an apple he keeps in his stash of food just for you. Just to replenish you between his own feedings. As you bite into the hard skin, as the juice fills your mouth, you reach for a book, some ancient law book he found in the ruins of that village. Must make him think of his old life.

The pages are old and soft in your fingers, your eyes absentmindedly skimming the long words and complex sentences as you chew.

Peaceful. Until you realize it’s far too quiet.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, that feeling of being watched creeping up your spine. Turning, mid bite, you peer into the shadowed corner of his tent behind you.

Two glowing red eyes stare at you from the dark, just a hint of glinting teeth as he smiles and drinks in your fear and surprise. He laughs to hear you hiss as you jump in your seat. “There you are,” he croons from his darkened corner. “I’ve been waiting.”

“F-f-for what?” you force a smile and force your breath to steady all at once. He slides closer, settling down right beside you, and you notice your worn book in his hand, the smile on his face is sultry.

And predatory.

And for a moment, you regret teaching him as much as you have about his untapped powers.

“When were you going to tell me about your little bit of… research… on the side?” his voice is chilling, his brow arching as he flips the book open right to the back.

Right where you had been trying so hard to prevent his eyes from skimming, his ambitious brain from devouring the knowledge.

Your body is hot and rigid, and you know from the way his pointy ears twitch, he hears your pulse. You know from the way that his nostrils flare that he smells your arousal, the slick that dampens your underthings just to be this close to him again after his little stunt today.

“If my observations are correct… and they usually are…” he purrs, even though the stack of evidence to the contrary is vast. But you bite your tongue as he continues, your heart leaping at the topic he is about to breach. “You sound and smell eager to discuss this topic if dhampires, my darling.”

You swallow, watching so heated and frozen as he slides so gracefully to place the weight of that tome in your own lap, his fingers removing the half-eaten apple from your fingers to toss to the side. Then he brings their sticky, juicy tips to his mouth to suck them clean.

You moan, unbidden, at the wet and vigor with which his tongue cleans every crevice of those digits.

“Now, I’d hate to be left wondering just why my intelligent, little darling would withhold such a vital… potent… part of my unrevealed powers as a vampire?” he sets your hand back on your thigh, a little extra brush of his fingers, returning to trace that seam inside your breaches as he had before. “Is she… curious? Afraid? Is this why she has been just so hesitant during our…” he grips your chin, turning your head with commanding force until there is nowhere else to look but his deep crimson eyes, “…late night trysts?”

“It’s not something one just… brings up, Astarion,” you try to flatten your tone, even as that one hand still traces up and around your thigh. “It’s just not… done…”

Something about his eyes softens, “It would be important to discuss, you know, for there is more that I would like to share with you than just witty banter and blood…” his tone dips low into a rumble. “It’s not something I would have known, not a concern I would have shared until I knew of it…”

“There’s more to it than you might know,” you squeak as his fingers press into that slot between your legs. “Now that you’re well-fed, you’ll feel actual….”

You swallow the word. His touch presses hard enough into your folds through your breaches to make them soaked. And you, wanton you, you give a breath and a buck of your hips to keep his fingers there.

“Pleasure,” he smirks, eyes scanning your face as your force your eyes back open, halfway at least. “Yes, I gathered as much. The more I feed, the more I come alive… alive enough to perhaps even bestow a new life…” he squints a grin at you, your mouth slack as he draws that touch just as hard again, “…perhaps one day.”

You arch your body, trying to slip closer. Your secret is out, your anxious thoughts over clandestine information dispersed in the air. And so, the next words from your mouth just build on all that you had been swallowing down.

“Yes, perhaps one day…” you sigh, leaning back on your hands to try to give him full access to your cunt. “Perhaps one day, we could test out those powers together.” Your voice shakes with excitement, it’s pressed with the sincerity you feel for him.

“Oh, my love,” he smirks and reaches both arms around your waist. That newfound strength pulls you flush into his lap, until your molten, silk-soaked center presses against where he’s hardening. “You always know what to say… Seems like quite the power that will take much preparation and proper timing…” He brings your fingers back to his lips as he kisses them softly. “I’d have to feed on more than just a bear and more than just sips from my little treat, sweet as you are…”

You nod, once or twice, before losing yourself in the bliss of his tongue on the tingling inner skin of your wrist. Barely more than a lap before his fangs pierce your skin and suck you down. Your very essence, your living blood pools in his belly, you feel it coursing in his veins. It fills him and hardens him beneath your hips in an instant.

“Well, practice makes perfect you know,” he croons, bloodied lips barely hovering off your own. “I can tell from your scent you are not… in season…. And I have only had the single little taste.”

You pant, writhing at the scratch of your clothing, you long to rip it off and toss it where your book has long since been abandoned. “Sounds right to me,” you hiss, arms tucking around his neck to lower those arrogant stupidly handsome lips to your mouth.

Astarion’s throat rumbles with a growl, the taste of your blood fresh in his mouth as he rolls you on your back. Primal. Feral. He’s your powerful vampire, blood in his body, lust in his brain. And you want to put it all to the test—your own little experiment to match his enthusiastic desire for you. His touch is lightening fast and strong, pulling off your clothing, swift and sure and careful until every inch of your bodies are bare.

Strength hums in his muscles, even as his hands gently caress your cheek, your neck still sore from all his feeding. His body presses you into the pile of blankets that cover his plank of a bed. His hips grind your belly, your thighs are pulled almost against your chest until you’re spread wide open for him. But for every jolt of his cock as it prods above you and drips his early cum on to your belly, his kisses on your lips are sweet, gentle. A silent movement of gratitude for all your willing aid. Those fingers drag their slightly warmed touch around your breast, kneading it tenderly. With every arch of your back, you can almost catch the base of his cock inside your folds.

And you shake. You quiver. You’d had a few lovers, mostly boring and few and far between. But never has your body burned for anyone like it does for him.

As if his vampire touch is calling your blood to pool beneath it. Not one traditional strength, but with Astarion, you aren’t totally sure he doesn’t have some unnatural ability to command your body. To make your blood pound and sing just for him.

“What a good girl,” he rasps, a grind of his hips to send that cock near your navel, over your skin. “I can feel your heat for me from here. Just waiting to be fucked full.” His mouth descends quickly but carefully, only taking a single nipple in his lips. Sucking hard, he pops off with a loud wet noise.

Almost as loud as your moan.

“So ready, aren’t you?” His question weighs you down, your eyes half shut to savor the way he drags back with that length, sliding it in just an inch or so into your aching sex. “I’m waiting…” he growls, and you sob as he pulls even that little bit of his tip back out.

“Yes, hells below, yes,” you pant, hands flying to claw into his ass. Pulling him towards your throbbing core.

That blunted tip prods just barely inside you again. “You want me to fill you?” he rasps.

You nod, your teeth biting your lip hard enough to bleed.

“You want me to fill your belly like you let me fill mine with your sweet blood?” he grips his arms around your shoulders, pressing harder into, cock sliding in another little bit. “Fuck you so many times, my cum will drip from you for days?”

“Yes, Astarion…” you breathe, his mouth devouring your words, ready to swallow your cry as he does, finally, fill you.

You feel the gravity of his body crushing you, his legs braced with every tendon taught as he snaps his hips into. It’s so deep, so driving the way he fucks. And every thrust slaps your flesh and smacks his balls against your ass, but you love it. His breath dampens your collarbone, arms wrapped so tightly around you, you can do nothing but hold on for dear life. Your thighs burn from how they’re bent into your stomach almost, your folds leaking with arousal, and the drag of his cock touches every part of your walls and slams against your channel’s end.

He licks your shoulder, wet tongue lapping up to the artery in your neck. Where it pulses and dances in time with his beat inside you. Flushed and boiling, speared on his length, you pant, suffocated deliciously until you burst. Your visions swimming and muscles contorting in his press, you scream for him. You can hear your arousal, your slick, coating his thighs as his thrusts only increase with speed.

Lifting his head, he sweeps a hand down your sweat-drenched belly, palm bracing just below your navel. His push is relentless, hard and gradual enough you feel it behind your belly, how he gives you resistance from outside against that constant ramming of his cock at your deepest point. It’s enough to throw you into another coil of bliss instantly. “Good girl, so wet and dirty and waiting to be filled…'' he finally speaks through his panting. And he pushes on your belly once more, grunting with each fuck as he comes undone.

As he thrusts and spills his seed, prodding the full length of him to the deepest point yet. You can feel it almost sticking through your skin as he pulses. As he spills, burst after burst, he still rams that end of your cunt.

Beads of sweat drip from his forehead as he looks down your body, and how your skin is wet and flushed and marked from where he gripped you so fiercely.

He smiles and licks his lips. You try to clamber out, but his hand only comes to rest on your shoulder. “Ah ah,” he tutts his tongue at you, slipping out, only to take two of his fingers to play in your mix of cum, slipping it back inside you over and over again. “You’ll need to practice too, and you’ll need to rest to keep all of me inside of you.”

You shudder, a smile wide on your mouth, aroused and embraced, half hidden behind the back of your hand as you cover your face.

“Tch,” he chides you, pulling that hand from your face, “none of that, my darling. I’ll watch every bit of your blush darken your cheek until you’re ready to go again.”

“Again?” you choke. Your hips already feeling stretched and sore, you lay them flat and try to ease the aches.

“Oh yes,” he purrs, “you’ll have to build your strength the old fashioned way, my treat. Now,” he gives your ass a little smack on the side as he lifts it, “on your knees, darling…”

You finally take a breath, freed from his wiry, heavy frame. One cool hand settles between your shoulder blades to have you rest your head on his bedding. But that other hand pulls your hips up, slipping through your juices and teasing your clit until you buck back against his belly. You breathe contentedly, savoring the way his fingers caress you, worship you.

You close your eyes, wriggle your hips, already craving that stretching fullness inside you. A future with him at your side during the day as your strong, well fed vampire… and on your back and knees and belly and any way he would want you during the long nights with your virile lover.

[lucyandalexiafan]

Could you write something where Alexia is obsessed with the reader boobs please

Movie night | Alexia Putellas x reader

I wrote this few days ago and I find now the time to post it🫠. I don't know if you wanted a more smut work, but the result was something really fluff and cute; I don't know why but it came out so sweet, even though the initial idea was something more sexual. Maybe it's because of all the tweets and TikToks that make me watch thousand times the interview she did for the top 11 and I keep hearing 'thank you' and 'Are you a Manchester City fan', which make her seem so cute; or maybe because I'm feeling so single ahah.

Anyway, I'm sorry if you wanted something more smut and less cute, and thank you for the request!

Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them!

I bite my lip trying to hold back a moan.

Ale's hands on my breasts, her fingers caressing and playing with my nipples.

It had all started very innocently.

Since this morning Ale had been very clingy, very physical.

As soon as the alarm went off she pulled me tighter into her embrace, her hands squeezing my chest, muttering jokingly about how 'I don't love her enough' as I wanted to get up, then kissing my neck just below my hairline every time I stayed a few minutes longer in bed with her.

After almost being arrived late at the training, she tried to be paired with me during both the gym and athletic training, finding every time an excuse to touch me.

Her hands had always been on my thigh, arm or hand at lunch.

It was as if she had an extreme need for physical contact, to touch me, but not necessarily sexually.

On the way home we stopped at the restaurant near our house, my favorite Chinese restaurant, and Ale took there our takeaway dinner that she had ordered while she was waiting for me at the end of the second training session. She composed it with my favorite dishes.

We went into our apartment and had dinner on the sofa laughing in front of a stupid American talk show (even though she seemed to understand one word in ten and only laughed when I laughed).

Once we ended our dinner, Ale asked me to watch a film, one of my favorite dark academia films, and I agreed; so, she helped me to clean the table in front of the sofa and the dishes and we lay down on the sofa.

After a few minutes from the start, she lay between my legs, her head on my chest and her hands at her sides. The position itself wasn't uncomfortable, my back was resting against the couch and my head was on a pillow turned towards the television, my hands caressing her back.

I felt her body relax second by second, the tension from the training slowly flowing out of her body. Every now and then she let out a few moans or gasps, but nothing overly sexual.

About a quarter of the way through the movie, she had moved a little lower, her navel touching my inner thigh, her right temple against my sternum; her hands had started to caress my torso under my shirt, to lightly scratch my hips.

The contact had given me shivers, her cold fingers tracing light circles with her nails.

“I thought you wanted to see the movie amor,” I say, chuckling.

She moans into my chest, her hands gripping the edges of my shirt.

I lift her torso, allowing her to push it over my breasts, braless.

Ale she starts kissing my skin, leaving endless little kisses on my boobs, she draws wet paths that connect one nipple to the other.

Her fingers squeeze my breast in a light grip, playing with my nipples.

"What happened Ale? - she looks at me confused - You are so physical"

"Since when I can be more physical with you? - she asks smiling - I love your boobs so much amor" she says assorted while she squeezes them with her hands.

I gasp, seeking contact with her, and grip her hair between my fingers.

My neck arches back when she bites my right nipple.

She grins against my sternum.

She runs her nipples between her fingers.

"Your boobs are so sensitive - she gasps and then kisses a nipple - That's one of the reasons why I love them… I just need to touch your nipples and you're soaked for me" she whispers absorbedly while she kisses them.

"Only for you, amor - I moan - only for you"

Ale smiles satisfied.

She bends down and kisses a patch of skin just below her nipple. She sucks it, leaving a clear purple mark on me, releasing it with a dull sound.

"When you're really horny you can have an orgasm just by me playing with your nipples - she bites my right one, passing it between her teeth and making me moan- It's never happened to me before, but it's so… so-"

I gasp when her fingers squeeze a nipple tighter, too tight.

My hand shoots out and grabs her wrist, not knowing if I want to stop her or ask her to do it again. Ale bends down to kiss the fingers surrounding her wrist, leaving small sweet kisses on my skin while she whispers to me that she's sorry.

I arch my back towards her asking her to touch me, to keep touching me.

“They're so soft – she whispers as she leaves a hickey on my other tit – and just the right size for my hands.”

I bite her lip looking at her.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Are you saying they are big? - She looks at me confused - Alexia, I've never had a girlfriend with bigger hands and longer fingers than yours"

She opens her mouth wide in offense, her eyebrows raised dangerously, while the sides of her mouth turn up in a smile.

Then, suddenly, she lowers herself towards my breast, biting it.

I groan in surprise.

It's not a painful bite, but it will leave a mark.

She smiles satisfied as she watches it.

"Looking at how you ask me to fuck you with my long fingers I wouldn't say it bothers you" she replies in a mock offended tone.

The tongue touching the edges of the bite.

I turn my head towards the couch, trying to avoid her gaze, my embarrassment clear from the color of my cheeks.

"Ale…" I gasp, not knowing exactly what he wants.

"Keep watching the movie, amor" she tells me, her voice betraying a trace of excitement, before resting her head on my sternum.

Her hand continues to play with my breast, the one towards the television, playing with the nipple, running it between his fingers, pulling it towards her.